#the pretty colours got splattered with red | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

switchundercover · 7 months

Text

Tickletober Day 2: Accidental

A/N: HELLO TUMBLR TK COMMUNITY!! This is my first fic I'm posting on here, with tickletober giving me the motivation I needed to do so!! I've always been lurking in the community ever since I joined it, but I finally thought that it was time to put myself out there! I'm currently OBSESSED with ATSV, so I did a thing with Hobie and Miles bc I love how they interact in the movie! Anyways, I won't bore you with a super long authors note that most people probably won't read, so I hope you enjoy the fic!

Tw: swearing, mention of blood/bleeding out, tickles

——————————————————————————

Hobie slumped onto the couch of his living room, clutching his waist in pain. He had been sent out on a mission, and had got beaten up.. pretty badly to say the least. Despite the insistence that he was fine and 'I've survived worse, I'll be alright', it didn't stop Miles Morales from checking in on him to examine and.. try to heal his wounds.

"Mate.. I'm fine, really." Hobie said, wincing as Miles examined the wound.

"Hobie, you're literally bleeding out." Miles replied, a hint of sass in his voice. Hobie just shrugged, surprising Miles with how nonchalant he was, but he did inhale sharply between his teeth as Miles wrapped up the wound in gauze. Hobie let out a shaky sigh, turning his head away from Miles. Hobie didn't like it when his friends took care of him like this, feeling like he could take care of himself due to being the oldest in the group. He felt it was childish of him to ask his younger friends for help, when he knew that they had to deal with the same, if not worse, pain.

Hobie's body flashed a few colours, the colour around his waist being relatively normal so Miles could see and tend to the wound better. The rest of his body was a muted gray, small bits of a blood red colour appearing on his body like paint splatters whenever Hobie would wince from the pain, the colours eventually fizzling back out into the gray. To anyone who didn't know Hobie, it was an oddly pretty spectacle (despite it being at Hobie's expense), but to those closest to him, it was relatively normal, so it didn't distract Miles from the task at hand; which was making sure Hobie didn't bleed out and die.

After the bulk of the treatment was finished, Hobie melted into his couch, feeling a bit more relaxed after the more painful part of the process was dealt with. Now, Miles was just examining his torso, making sure there were no other major wounds. The feeling was relatively calming, feeling like a sort of massage. Miles' fingers were quick to examine Hobie's torso, now examining his ribs to see if any of the bones had cracked. What Miles didn't expect was the sharp intake of breath that came from the punk, the spot that Miles touched flashing to a more neon shade of yellow for a brief moment before returning back to normal.

"O-oh, sorry- did I hurt you..?" Miles asked, a bit of shame in his tone. Miles looked at Hobie with a worried expression, afraid he might've caused more damage.

The usually cool and collected Hobie stammered for a moment before shaking his head, making up an excuse from the top of his head. "Nah, you're fine mate. Just wasn't really expecting it 's all." Hobie replied, that yellow colour on his ribs returning as if it was disagreeing with what Hobie said.

Miles noticed the flash of yellow, not exactly knowing what it meant. He knew that if Hobie's body was blue, it meant he was sad, pink meant platonic love (his body would be a brighter red if he was around someone he loved romantically), and many, many other different colours and meanings that Miles had memorized due to knowing Hobie for a good while. This yellow was new, something that Miles had never seen before. Miles thought he might've been reading to much into this, so he just gave Hobie a small hum in response and continued his examination.

Hobie's body stiffened slightly as Miles went back to examining his ribs, feeling an unbearably ticklish feeling every single time Miles' fingers would lightly press against the bones, checking for any painful reaction. The yellow colour only being on Hobie's ribs definitely eluded to.. something, Miles wasn't sure, but the colour made Miles somewhat worried. Miles withdrew his hands, a small frown on his face as he looked at his friend with concern.

"Hobie, if it hurts you need to tell me. I don't wanna make it worse." Miles fretted, his tone being concerned and a bit scared for his friend. Hobie felt a little bad that his stifled ticklish reactions made Miles worried, but.. it was still extremely embarrassing to him, so Hobie shook his head, dismissing Miles' worries.

"I'm fine. Don't worry 'bout it. You worry to much bruv." Hobie chuckled, his teeth clicking against his tongue piercing out of slight nervousness. Miles raised an eyebrow, inching his hand closer to Hobie's ribs, but not touching them just yet. Hobie's reaction immediately became apparent, the punk flinching away from Miles' hand, and the yellow colour on his body spreading slightly. Miles was confused. If it didn't hurt, what was the issue? Miles thought of himself in Hobie's situation for a moment, being injured and having a friend of his checking for injuries. He thought of somebody's hand pressing against his ribs, slightly pressing against the bone to see if they were hurt. Miles' eyes immediately widened at the realization, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"Oi, what're you bein' all smug about?" Hobie questioned, his body stiffening slightly as he pointed an accusing finger at Miles. Hobie figured that Miles had found out why he was reacting in the way that he did, and as a result of this, a small bit of red crept up onto his face, and the yellow along his ribs spread and became a bit brighter.

Miles couldn't stop himself from giggling, finding the situation incredibly amusing. "Oh, it's nothing.." Miles quickly darted a hand to Hobie's ribs before pulling it away just as fast, grinning as Hobie's body jumped away from it and an essence of a screech escaped his lips.

"Y-you wouldn't do.. that to me! I'm injured man, you'll kill me!" Hobie argued, narrowing his eyes as he found it a bit harder to keep his cool.

"Relax! I'll be gentle!" Miles said, his giggles getting louder as his hand made contact with Hobie's torso. Miles smirked at the way Hobie's body tensed up, and the slightest hint of a squeak made it's way past Hobie's closed lips. Miles slowly, and I mean slowly dragged his fingers along Hobie's ribs, the punk inhaling sharply as a result.

"Miles! Fuck- stop that!" Hobie yelped, the tiniest giggle slipping through his gritted teeth. Hobie's pleas were only met with a huge grin from Miles, who immediately capitalized off of that small giggle by pressing his fingers against Hobie's ribs and vibrating his fingers rapidly. In Miles' eyes, this was gentle, as he knew Hobie had a hell of a lot of resistance when it came to touch. Wether it be pain, or in this case, tickles.

"MAHAHAHAILES-! STAHAHAHAHAHAP- NAHAHAHAHAHAHA FAHAHAHAHACK-!" Hobie screeched, his attempt to squeal out a plea immediately replaced with more bouts of loud laughter when Miles decided it would be a good idea to use a small amount of his venom power to shock Hobie, the unbearably ticklish feeling traveling across Hobie's entire torso. Miles giggled and let up, allowing Hobie to actually breath. Miles snuck an extra pinch to his ribs, grinning at the small yelp that came out of the punk.

"Alright, I'm done. Don't want you getting hurt.. more than you already are.. you good?" Miles asked, Hobie responding with a shaky thumbs up. "Y-yeah.. 'm fine mate.. holy shihihit." Hobie chuckled, the tingly feeling from the venom still present. Throughout the entire ordeal, Hobie's body changed colour completely, going from gray with those hints of yellow (which Miles was now suspecting ment Hobie was embarrassed about something), to a full blown pink, with occasional flashes of the familiar yellow colour here and there.

Miles chuckled and stood up, going to the kitchen to get Hobie some water. Miles quickly returned, offering the water to Hobie, who drank it so fast you'd be convinced there was nothing in the cup in the first place.

"Thanks Miles.. you know, for tendin' to my injuries and whatever. 'S nice of you." Hobie said, sighing as he let out one final giggle. Miles smiled, loving the fact that he left a positive impact on Hobie's well-being. "Well, I feel like it's kind of.. in my nature to care about the people I love, so you're welcome." Miles replied, his smile growing a bit wider.

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie?" Miles suddenly asked, looking at Hobie.

"Sure, what're you thinkin' of?"

And so Hobie and Miles lazily draped their bodies over Hobie's semi-comfortable couch, watching a movie on some probably illegal website. Hobie couldn't shake the small smile that was on his face, the knowing that Miles, and all of his friends for that matter, would be there for him making him feel all warm inside. Miles caught a quick glimpse of Hobie, seeing that the pink colour on Hobie's body got a bit brighter.

And personally, Miles wouldn't have it any other way.

#atsv tickle #atsv tickling #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickle community #tickletober 2023 #lee!hobie #ler!miles #tickle fluff #across the spiderverse tickle #across the spiderverse tickles #love them they're so hakdjsozhsks

109 notes · View notes

inkformyblood · 5 months

Text

chance encounter (CWFKB2023) #2

Modern AU. Bloodsoaked kiss fill @codywanfirstkissbingo

There’s a man covered in blood sitting at the edge of Cody’s bar.

He’s pretty enough that the blood doesn’t detract from it, somehow enhancing the bright flash of his eyes as he twists to stare at the door he’s just trudged in from. Cody follows his gaze, settling his elbow on the door to peer down at the trail of footprints that the man’s left in his wake — Cody could line up his footsteps with a ruler, each perfectly placed to try and minimise the damage , and he’s seen habitual drunks who’d run for a bar with less efficacy than this man has — and he catches the man’s eye as he straightens up.

“I’ll pay extra for the cleaning,” the man says. His mouth twists like he wants to say more and he’s found it tastes bitter, hitting his palate like a pick-axe. “But am I able to order?”

“You hurt?” Cody asks instead, gesturing to the man’s, well, everything. It’s impossible to distinguish his natural hair colour beneath the blood, and every blink on one side grows longer with the sticky slide over the previous finger-smudged space to try and clear it. His clothes haven’t fared much better, a simple button-up destined for a long soak in some peroxide if not an immediate sentencing to the bin and a tight pair of jeans that will make Cody’s brain light up in all the wrong places if he thinks about them too long, blood splatter and all.

The slow grin that dawns over the man’s face could only be described as wicked, enough to convince a priest to tear off his collar and renounce his crusade if only for a second glance, and Cody isn’t particularly adept at denying himself small pleasures anymore. Nearly dying would do that to a man. The stranger peels his hand off of the bar, his fingerprints embossed in the wood in deep red marks, and Cody’s starting to reach for a rag before what he’s seeing catches up to him. The man’s teeth are pointed, his tongue a flash of pink amongst deep red as he licks over the expanse of his palm, culminating the motion by removing the prosthetic fangs with a wet slick. He sets them next to the soak of his fingerprints. “All entirely fake. A prank I interrupted I believe or it may have been intended for me all along. But now I am soaked to the bone, already sticky and that is only going to get worse, and I’m in desperate need of a drink.”

“We’ve got a small bathroom round the back.” Cody’s mouth moves without his brain’s input, cogs that had already stuck on the intensity of the man’s gaze as he had licked over his palm — that hadn’t been a fascination Cody thought he had possessed but now he can think of nothing else — grinding to a further halt at the thought of the man undressed in the cramped confines of a shower, soap clinging to his shoulders, the soft plane of his belly, lower. “You could wash up there.”

”You won’t get in trouble?” The man asks softly, leaning closer to Cody like they’re in a confessional, his voice so gentle that Cody flushes from the dichotomy of it all. “No trade secrets I should stay away from, overbearing bosses, jealous exes?”

“Why would my exes be jealous?�� Cody asks before he can stop himself, rocking back on his heels to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force his headache with nothing more than the pressure and a fervent prayer.

The man chuckles, ducking his head to make an attempt at hiding his grin behind the back of his hand. The pale swipe over his palm is briefly visible and Cody’s stomach twists, his head swimming with how much he’s craving something he’s only just learned is possible.

“They’d be jealous because I’m getting to talk to you and they’re not.”

Cody grumbles something unintelligible at the man, refusing to look at him directly. He hadn’t had much of a religious lean in his childhood, the house packed too full for anything else to seep in through the cracks. But he had dutifully sat through the parade of speakers from every faith while he’d been at school and sang the hymns like he was supposed to but it hadn’t meant anything special, it just was; the same way got the second pick of the chairs around the tv and he always chose the low armchair that would tip over if he leant back too far, the same way he got third pick of the sweets whenever his family all piled into the car for a trip and sixth choice of where they got takeaway from on the rare nights they could order. It had always been there, braided into his swearing and the way he structured his breaks around the holidays just like he would for the school breaks. But he must have done something right, somewhere, somehow, because this man, blood-stained and smiling like there’s never been anything wrong with the world, is in his bar.

He holds out the rag, a clean one, uncurling it from his fingers as he does so. There’s an indented line cut into the hollow of his knuckles, thanks to his own actions, and the man murmurs out his thanks as he stands, taking the rag from Cody. He roughly scrubs it over his eyes, revealing patchy pale skin littered with freckles and glitter in equal measures. The glitter is red, clinging to the natural hollows of the man’s face, the furrow of his brow and the corners of his eyes.

“Bathroom’s just through the door marked ‘Staff Only’, take a left and it’s the second door on your right. Ignore the skeleton in the closet. His name is Lewis.”

“And your name, my most beloved bartender?”

“Cody.”

“Cody,” the man repeats, lingering over the scant few syllables like he’s savouring them, swirling wine round in a glass as if that would make it taste any better. Closer now, he smells sweet, the fake blood beginning to dry tacky and stick around his joints, a rusting puppet too stubborn to lie down and let the world spin to nothing around him. “That is a lovely name. I’m Obi-Wan.”

He holds out his hand — blank line on his palm, a gold ring on his thumb, and Cody was already halfway in love without Obi-Wan ever saying a word — and Cody takes it. Obi-Wan tugs Cody forward, the edge of the bar catching on the rough curve of his hip, and kisses his cheek, sweet and sticky and smelling of artifical strawberries. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Cody manages, smoke spiralling from his ears as his overworked brain kicks up another gear, dust torn free from pathways he hasn’t touched in years. “You can have that drink when you’re back out.”

“You’re a treasure, Cody, truly. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be sticky and thirsty in someone else’s bar.” Cody squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand before he lets him go. “Now, go. I’m not going anywhere.”

#codywan #cwfkb2023 #cwfkb #codywan first kiss bingo #codywan first kiss bingo 2023 #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #fanfic

70 notes · View notes

biggiedraws · 8 months

Text

red team tries the grimace shake

alternate ending:

rambles under the cut!

apparently i cannot post anything without shading it- i was just gonna colour it and be done but it looked so flat! anyway i put entirely too much effort into this but it was SO fun. idc if no one else finds it funny because it makes me lose my shit laughing

extra bonus content- imagine how they got covered in the shake. sarge and donut definitely could've splattered themselves for The Drama but what happened to simmons. how. did someone throw it at him. did he slip and spill it on himself. for that matter, why did he fucking faint? did he take one sip and just black out immediately? its just so ridiculous

also. we're just gonna pretend this trend isn't months old okay. i cannot keep up with trends to save my life. there's a reason i don't post on tiktok or instagram anymore

and while a lot of aspects of this are pretty sloppy, theres a couple things i really like- i slayed the halo armour, and the perspective on the second drawing in particular turned out really good. that donut corpse was so difficult but god was it worth it. and the splatters were SO fun- trying to make it look like it was dripping was a bit of a challenge, and i like how it turned out!

#biggie draws #rvb #red team #grimace shake #happy birthday grimace #<- kinda funny that i'm extremely late for grimace's birthday but my own birthday was yesterday #plus i just dyed my hair purple! it's all coming together #fucking..... forgot to sign these and had to re-export and then re-upload them. second time ive done this in the past week. ffs

133 notes · View notes

adobe-outdesign · 1 month

Note

Could I request a review of the Cybunny? They're my personal favourite, I have a tattoo of one! Would love to hear your thoughts 🐰

The Cybunny is... drumroll please... a bunny. Strictly speaking it's fairly standard for a rabbit, but the face and proportions make it super cute. The addition of a colorful mane with uneven splotches also adds a lot to the design and gives it almost a permanent Easter-esq vibe. I also like the addition of colored paw paws that extend up onto the base of each foot, which match the primary mane color. Meanwhile, the pink accents in the ears, spots, eyes, and nose add a nice secondary touch of color that's not too overwhelming or distracting (unlike, say, the base color Wockies). Overall, these are some aesthetically pleasing, well-balanced bunnies.

As a side note, my only nitpick is that Cybunnies have these super subtle whisker dots around their noses which are so hard to see that I literally never noticed them until writing this review. Those definitely should've just been dropped.

While the raised paw looks a bit weird, I think Cybunnies as a whole were improved with customization. The original art was starting to look slightly dated, and something about the head size and position looks better to my eye, even if it's hard to place why—it's like the original was hunched over a bit, if that makes sense. I also think the ears look quite a bit better.

Favorite Colours:

Halloween: Vampires are a pretty obvious pick for Halloween and this is by no means a fancy design, but man does it look good. I'm a sucker for a good black/white/red palette, and the fangs, red eye shadow, red tail tip, and black cape and ears really all come together to make a great design.

My only nitpick with the conversion of this one is that the cape shape got a bit lost in customization (originally it looked more like bat wings), and also we lost one of the all-time best Battledome poses (above). Also, there was a missed opportunity to make the mane spots look like bats or blood splatters or something.

Maraquan: "What if a rabbit was a fish" is a valid question that has to be asked sometimes on Neopets.com, and TNT delivered with this one. The teal and magenta come together really well, as do the long fur and striped markings. The ears also have a really nice shape to them and are much longer than Cybunnies usually are allowed to have.

Like the Halloween Cybunny, I do have one nitpick about the converted version, which is that it inexplicably lost the hair on top of its head. Why??

8-bit: I went over this in my 8-bit colour review so I won't spend too much time on it here, but this is just a really nice colour. While not technically "correct" from a pixel art standpoint, something about the pose is super cute and it has a great retro feeling to it.

BONUS: The woodland Cybunny is nice enough that I had to give it its own spot on this list. The flower accents on the mane are lovely and mimic the spots they usually sport, and the wood itself looks great—the grain contours correctly with the body shape and little details like the knothole in the ears really bring the whole thing together. (An honorary mention goes to camoflauge and Christmas, which didn't quite make the cut but I still like quite a bit.)

#neopets #neotag #cybunny #neopet reviews

41 notes · View notes

ghostiewriter · 1 year

Note

👻 how about stoner!jj getting high and going to a football game just to see cheerleader!kie (congrats on 1k by the way I guess it's impressive or whatever)

ew thanks or whatever

...

Fuck.

That was the only word echoing through his foggy mind as he pushed through the crowd of students, teachers and parents. There were bright colours everywhere—and he fucking meant everywhere. No matter where he looked, no matter which direction he turned his head, the school’s colours seemed to be splattered across every possible surface, bright and irritable and burning into his retinas.

Must be an important game, he briefly thought to himself as he bumped shoulder against shoulder, being pushed around the crowd as he made his way to the bleachers and slumped himself down into a free spot.

JJ Maybank didn’t care about football games or school spirit. In all his years of living, he could count on one hand the amount of games he had been to and all of them had been against his will. JJ Maybank wouldn’t be caught dead at a football game, sitting in the bleachers in support of his school.

And yet here he was, beanie pulled over his messy blond hair, with hooded, red-rimmed eyes as he listened to fans scream and chant and sing along to whatever fucking song the marching band were playing.

He wasn’t even sure why he was here.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR KILDARE COUNTY HIGH’S SPECTACULAR CHEER TEAM!”

Okay, so that was a lie. He knew very well why he was here, and it had everything to do with a certain brown-eyed girl and a bitter feeling in his chest that he was unable to rid himself off, no matter how much he smoked.

Fridays were their days. Fridays were the days he would stay late after school for Kiara to finish practice before giving her a ride out to their favourite spot, sitting in the back of his truck and passing a joint between them until the fucking sun set.

Instead, Friday was the day Kiara had to blow him off for a stupid football game.

He knew it wasn’t personal, not in the slightest. But his brain couldn’t seem to grasp that concept, and neither could the burning sensation in his gut that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried. He was jealous. He was fucking jealous over a stupid fucking football game.

And now here he was, sitting in the bleachers whilst he was high off his fucking head, all because he wanted to see his girl.

His fucking girl.

“LET’S GO, FALCONS!”

Despite the buzzing crowd and loud screams, he heard her voice like it was a beacon in all the chaos. His eyes quickly focused on her, standing there at the bottom of the bleachers in her short skirt and tank top, a smile plastered on her face like she knew it was damn picture-perfect.

She looks pretty, he thought to himself.

She always looks pretty, he added a few moments later.

JJ couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she went through cheer after cheer. As she jumped and flipped around, as she captured the crowd’s attention like she always did. He couldn’t tear his damn eyes away from her because she was the reason he was there.

Even as the game started and the cheerleaders stood by the sidelines, letting out encouraging chants.

Even as the buzzing sound indicating the end of the game echoed through the pitch and people jumped up in celebration.

Even as everyone rushed to flood the pitch and congratulate the team before heading towards the after party.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off his pretty girl.

“Never thought I’d see you at a game,” her voice was smooth and teasing, and god he wanted to drown in the sound of it.

“I would’ve showed up earlier if you told me that uniform looks even hotter when you’re dancing around in it,” he replied with a lazy smile on his lips.

Her eyes glimmered with amusement. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, baby,” he nodded with a hum.

“You got your truck?” Kiara asked, her eyes meeting his and he was surprised to see a heat that matched his own that was burning in the pit of his stomach.

“Of course.”

“Good,” Kiara smiled and reached down to grab his hand, their fingers intertwining like it was a reflex. “You can show me just how much you like this uniform then.”

Football games were still fucking stupid, but Kiara Carrera made them damn worth his time.

...

#ghostie's 1k celebration #jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara fic #jiara fanfic #jiara fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #stoner!jj #cheerleader!kie

71 notes · View notes

lost-between-letters · 2 years

Text

Date Out

Pairing: Gabriel X Reader (she/her)

Requested by: anon

Written for: my 300 follower celebration

Word Count: 602

Summary: a sweet moment of Gabriel being in love with you.

A/N: yes the title is supposed to be a spin on time-out, no I refuse to apologize for the bad joke. Have fun reading!

Gabriel had watched the very creation of the world. Watched Dad plant the first flowers, picked out the colour for the beaches during sunrise and created the very smell of a wet forest in summer.

And still, when Y/N threw her head back in true joy - for once her laughter not buried behind her hands - Gabriel was mesmerized. It was rare to see her so carefree these days - the end of the world took a toll on everyone, yes, even the only archangel in hiding.

But what was unacceptable was that Y/N hadn't been on a date in forever. So Gabriel had hatched a plan, got Sam and Dean involved against some heavenly favours and freed his favourite hunter of her usual duties (and a group of demons, but that wasn't the point). It had to have its perks to date him, right?

Even if she almost never accepted Gabriel's attempts at romance or making her life easier. Damn humans and their pride and misplaced sense of self fulfillment in getting your hands dirty.

Right now, that didn't matter.

What mattered was that Y/N was finally laughing at one of his more stupider jokes and was eating the food they had cooked together.

"You're glowing brighter than the stars."

Y/N stopped in her tracks, an adorable perplexed expression on her face.

Wait, did he just say that out loud? Apparently.

So Gabriel rolled with it. He leaned over the kitchen island and planted a kiss on her chin. "Sweetcheeks, close that pretty mouth or the flies may get some ideas."

"You're joking," Y/N chuckled though her face was bright red and her voice wavered subtly.

Yeah no. Gabriel looked up at the ceiling and threw his hands up dramatically. "How dare you accuse me of such foolery! I'd never lie in such serious matters."

Aaand that was the wrong approach. Her lips were still stretched in a smile but her eyes flickered briefly with hurt.

Immediately, he dropped the farce and now fully rounded the table to get to Y/N's side, not caring about the food he might be splattering on the ground.

"Oh no, we're not doing that."

Y/N watched him with confusion all over her face (she seemed to be watching him like that pretty often - Gabriel didn't know why), her fingers drumming on the table. "What?"

"You thinking I'm not serious and will inevitably start spiralling, obviously," Gabriel said and threw his arm around her shoulders. She huffed but didn't stop him. A good sign that he took as encouragement to keep talking, "so yes, you are shining brighter than the stars and as someone who witnessed the making of them, you can trust my judgement."

For a moment, Y/N was so silent Gabriel feared that he accidentally stopped time again. Then, when the initial panic really set in, she punched him. Hard.

"Ouch?!" He rubbed his shoulder, rather taken off guard than actually hurt, "what was that for?"

Y/N punched him again. In the same place. But the smile was back and more genuine than ever so Gabriel could live with the assault. "Stop. Complimenting. Me!"

"Why?"

"You can't just throw those things at me and actually mean them!" She complained and - oh. She was blushing.

Someone liked praise. A lot. Gabriel filed that information away for later.

But first he had to kiss the shit out of Y/N. "I'm so sorry my love. Can I make it up to you?"

"You better," she pulled him in by the collar of his shirt which he followed oh so willingly.

Oh yeah, Gabriel had chosen the right one.

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer, @lovesfandoms, @nyotamalfoy, @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry

Gabriel Taglist: @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Join a Taglist

#gabriel x you #gabriel x reader #gabriel supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #fluff

265 notes · View notes

scham-wcan · 7 months

Note

“No, sorry, you laughed. I … I never saw it before. It’s — pretty.” <--- cinwin first date. Who is saying it to whom is your call.

Bonus if you want to have DWR being pests and spying in the background.

“No, sorry, you laughed. I … I never saw it before. Its — pretty.”

it got long oops

For all of her bravado and glorious provoking to end her in this pristine situation, Cinder could feel all of the violent heat which made her being sink like a coal in her stomach. Around her lingered the garish garnishing of an upper brow Atlesian rendezvous, and she should have been sick for that and that alone. Instead, she lingered her singular gloved hand stiffly on her glass of mauve wine, fighting to send her solitude golden eye about the setting—even more so did she fear matching the blue eyes before her.

Across from her lingered the staunch and well garbed form of one Winter Schnee, her opposite for the evening. At a double seated table with their names splattered across reservation cards.

A low borne spittle languished from Cinder’s maw as she grunted forth more of her drink into her. “How could I have been so stupid.” She lulled without remorse, purposefully trying to barb her own being with her tone. “How am I sat here, brandishing myself in all the uniform of some…” She finally allowed her eye to swing around onto the Schnee, protesting even further, “Some fictitious ‘welcome party’?” She was quickly met with barks of protest for her outburst from other patrons with a rambunctious hiss, which she quickly met with a snarl. “Oh, plaster your toupee down you snivelling clod.”

Cinder’s reprisal blustered with her retreating into her seat, once she would have smited down such a decrepit protestor, but now she simply brought her glass to her lips and once more lulled the lump of coal in her.

Then, however, did she hear such an odd thing that to her scorched ears sounded like something as utterly captivating as music. But it was no soured violin, no despotic trumpet, instead what she found, was the weird snorting between huffs, all of which were hidden behind a raised gloved hand.

The Schnee… was laughing? Cinder blinked, her expression widening in surprise, the stoic and blistering cold of this—her fellow Maiden—had been shattered without even a smidgen of wine in Winter’s goblet.

Snorting and voluminous laughter fought itself down, as Winter waved her shielding hand. “I’m— HAhaHaha-Sorry, Gods-…” Though if she was giving Cinder time to respond, it passed like malaises for Cinder as she took in the somehow suddenly realized beauty of Winter Schnee before her. “Sorry, I’ve never heard such an outburst against that Colonel, certainly he deserved such but, ahaha-.” Winter forced another row of laughter to stop when she saw her colour of red now matched by Cinder’s expression; though without any noise of amusement from the Fall Maiden.

A coughing sort of fit drew Cinder out of the back of her seat and brought her forth onto the table, elbows and all. “No, sorry, you laughed. I…” Cinder forced her vision aside, now realizing the coal in her had been relit with a hastening of her heart. “I’ve never seen it before. Its — pretty.”

Now the pair of them shared a bleeding colour across their cheeks, small fits of lightning and ash similarly dancing and falling beneath the table.

Whilst a trio of menus, who had seemingly had been watching the exchange with a wary prayer, seemed to jitter, squeak, and almost squawk in excitement. Even more so as throughout the night more small bits gave way to more dialogue, and the sharing of a bottle instead of fearing to touch the fluid.

#this got long #hope you like it!#cinder fall #winter schnee #cinwin #snowfall #scham writes i guess

10 notes · View notes

racingliners · 1 year

Text

Helmet Watch 2023

So, I had way too much fun rating all the team’s liveries this year (if you missed any of it you can find my thoughts here), so much so that I’ve decided to rate all the driver’s helmets as well! (I’ve also had a helmet tag on my blog pretty much ever since I got back into watching F1 because I just love how much effort gets put into each drivers helmet design... and I’m a Seb fan. Stanning helmet designs is in my blood by default)

Under a read more bc we have A LOT to get through! (Listed in alphabetical order by surname bc that just felt the best way to organise it)

Alexander Albon (Williams)

Starting off very, very strong. I LOVE the blue and red pairing, it looks so clean but so eye catching at the same time. And the stripes of the Thai flag is a really nice touch. I’m not sure why there’s the odd flash of light blue though?? It kinda feels like an afterthought.

8.5/10

Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin)

I do like the colour scheme, it just feels a tad busy with all the various stripes. But it is a really nice update to his traditional helmet design. I wish the Aston Martin wings were in the darker blue though, they would stand out so much better.

6.5/10

Valtteri Bottas (Alfa Romeo)

I do love me a mix of metallic finishes. The colour scheme as a whole is also top tier, the softer metallic blue with the more glittery charcoal, paired with the crème white is excellent. The overall design is super clean and looks really slick, his partner Tiffany who designed it did a really nice job!!

8/10

Pierre Gasly (Alpine)

CHROME MY MOST BELOVED!!!

I really liked his Monaco helmet last year and his design for this year is almost as good. I am obsessed with mixed finishes so the chrome on the crème white base it so nice, I like the pops of red, and the thin French flag going down the middle is a nice touch.

9/10

Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

So so so so much yes. There’s just SO MUCH I love about his 2023 design. Echoing his original helmet design with the yellow, but mixing in the purple from recent years. And the subtle rainbow gradient lines are so pretty and so perfect. And it looks gorgeous with the black Merc livery, which is always an excellent plus.

10/10

Nico Hulkenberg (Haas)

You know what... I really like it. The paint splatter effect is so pretty, I don’t recall seeing it on a helmet before and I think it looks great! It helps that there’s three different shades of orange to give some dimension. I am also obsessed with the glittery metallic purple. It works really well with the orange, and as it’s a warm-toned it should look somewhat coherent with the red in the Haas livery.

8.5/10

Charles Leclerc (Ferrari)

Not gonna lie, I got major Schumi vibes when I saw this. Which did make me every so slightly weepy, but he has made it slightly his own with the addition of the Monaco flag. It’s really simple, but it works. But like so much of F1 this year I really wish it was glossy instead of matte.

7/10

Kevin Magnussen (Haas)

Gotta respect the consistency Kevin has had with his helmet design since 2014. The colour scheme is also great, it’ll look really nice with the Haas livery, and stand out against his team mate’s (always nice to be able to tell the difference, looking at you 2013 yellow helmet Brocedes). I’m not overly wowed, but I also don’t hate it, it’s a really solid design.

7/10

Lando Norris (McLaren)

F1 teams take note bc THIS is how you make exposed carbon work!. The design feels properly thought out, so it doesn’t feel like anything is missing, as opposed to a few of the car liveries this year. And like Lewis’ helmet with the Merc livery, the simple two colour palette looks so good. Probably my favourite helmet design of Lando’s thus far.

9/10

Esteban Ocon (Alpine)

Yes. Absolutely no notes. Excellent work. Bloody gorgeous.

10/10

Sergio Perez (Red Bull)

It’s ever so slightly busy, but I still do like it!! The white and grey is the perfect base for all the bright pops of colour, and the pattern is very funky. Honestly it’s the Red Bull logo that lets it down for me with the different shade of yellow. If it was the same chartreuse as the accents it would look really good.

7/10

Oscar Piastri (McLaren)

I have mixed feelings about this one. One the one hand I love how bright and colourful it is (unlike the MCL60) and I think the colour scheme is really fun (peep the silver holo!!). On the other, the design and layout feels a little too busy. However I do think it will still look really nice with the car, and as always bonus points for not being matte.

6.5/10

George Russell (Mercedes)

I LOVE the shade of blue George picked, it’s really bright which will go really well with the black livery. Though it does remind me of the 2014 Malaysia helmet that Lewis never got to use (which, after 9 years, I’m still mad about) which colour scheme wise I definitely prefer. Overall it’s another super clean design which isn’t too simple that it looks plain.

7.5/10

Carlos Sainz Jr (Ferrari)

I find it a bit wild that Carlos and Fernando have done updates of their classic designs in the same year. Anyway, the geometric pattern is fun! It does make it look a lot more dynamic than just flat lines, though the black feels a bit jarring and out of place to me. I can only assume it’s to differentiate from Charles’ all red helmet.

6/10

Lance Stroll (Aston Martin)

Lance is once again staying true to the AM brand and I’m honestly not that mad about it. As a British Racing Green enthusiast I loooooove the base colour, especially bc it’s both glossy and has a super subtle sparkle to it!!! The Aston Martin wings looks great solid as opposed to an outline, but for me they’re a bit too big. And I’m not really sure why there’s a blue outline on the top, white or silver would have looked more coherent.

7.5/10

Yuki Tsunoda (Alpha Tauri)

I looooooooove this design so much!!! It’s so different, which I always appreciate, and I always enjoy it when a driver pays homage to their home country/heritage. I should add that we have a Japanese Maple tree in our garden (which is what the leaves are) and using different colour leaves is so so so pretty. I wish he had been able to put the Alpha Tauri logo in a different colour to make it look more coherent.

9/10

Nyck de Vries (Alpha Tauri)

I really like the colour scheme on this one, incorporating hints of Dutch orange into the navy and white AT colour scheme works so well, and I also like the flashes of lighter blue. And I especially love the slivers of silver holo, I just wish there was a tad more to contrast against the matte finish.

7.5/10

Max Verstappen (Red Bull)

Obviously, I do have my Seb fan bias of there only being one superior ‘white helmet with driver’s flag colours’ design, but this does look nice. It’s really clean, and unlike Perez’s the Red Bull logo feels like it fits in with the design much better. But, I do feel like it could use a little jazzing up, maybe making the dark blue stripes a glossy metallic.

6.5/10

Zhou Guanyu (Alfa Romeo)

Lad is really going for the paddock fashionista title and I respect that. I adored his porcelain design at Abu Dhabi, so the ode to that around the visor is really cool (peep the smidge of silver holo, more of that please!!). I like that it’s an overall warm toned colour palette that should complement the red and black Alfa well. It’s so bright and I think it will really stand out at both day and night races.

8.5/10

#so many helmets; so little time #Formula 1 #2023 #Helmet #Helmet Watch #Helmet Watch 2023 #I've said it in the tags of a few posts; but the drivers have trounced the livery launches with their helmets this year #dare I say Ocon's is up there on my all time fave helmet list #it's just so so good

9 notes · View notes

natigail · 7 months

Text

I was really tired and didn't want to get out of bed this morning to go to work. I dragged my ass out, and ended up stuck in horrible traffic during my communte but I kept thinking back to a moment just when I had gotten into the car. I had seen a kid on a bike at the first crossing I had to stop at. A very cool bike. Black with slime green details almost splattered across it. But what really got me was that the kid had a backpack with the same colours. Black with green details exactly matching the hue on the bike. And I just thought to myself, huh, I bet that the kid's favourite colour or colour combination. And for just a moment the grumpiness at being tired lifted. Life can be pretty cool. I tried to hold onto that all through staring into red break lights for entirely too many minutes. 'Cause there's a kid out there on a cool bike with a cool bag.

#nina natters

3 notes · View notes

thetruecthulhu9 · 2 years

Note

And and and Green strings and scaly things

When the first green scales emerged along his waist line percy thought nothing of it. They were reminiscent of the scales of the fish he had seen, swimming thought the depths of Long Island so he happily assumed it was simply a side effect of being a child of Poseidon. There were probably other demigods who got strange physical quirks from their godly parent. Thalia probably had feathers growing from her armpits or something and either Athena had a kink for blonds or her kids hair was the colour of knowledge or some other nonsense no one thought to tell him. He ran his fingers over the ovals sprouting from his hip once, finding them to be surprisingly smooth compared to the coarse nature of fish he had handled, and shrugged it off, continuing to go about his morning routine.

Percy’s blood ran cold when he saw the first golden scale that had slipped through. The splattering of green had expanded to cover his entire waist and had almost reached his left knee, and the single fleck of gold sitting in his inner thigh was not a welcome sight. The gold that mirrored the eyes of The Crooked One, his grandfather, Kronos. He had seen Luke bathed in the colour, flooding through his dreams like a sickly aura. There were obviously plans to bring the titan back to walk the earth, the Sarcophagus that sat in the captains quarters on the Princess Andromeda, the fact that Luke was not dead, was percy just annother cog in a grand plan? While Luke had been quite blasé about Percy’s life, content to send waves of monsters after him in every battle he had fought, Kronos had always been pretty invested in having him join the titans, could the scales have something to do with it?

Percy spent the next year researching kronos, chasing every thread he could find to find any connection to scales (turns out demeter nicked Her father’s scythe after he was diced up, apparently considering it part of her inheritance of agriculture. Percy secretly vowed to take his aunt more seriously. And he did. Right up until she pestered hades to eat cereal), the closest he got was an uncle in the form of a time travelling goat-fish that may or may not even exist. But percy did find one thing… one crucial thing. Poseidon sires monsters. Almost every one of his children are monsters in some shape or form, the only exception percy could find was Theseus and most mortal telling still had contention over wether the king was his half brother or not. This, percy decided, must be what he is. Who he is destined to be, to become the terror that hunted his kin to their deaths. And he accepted it. Perseus Jackson would one day become a monster, and nothing could change that. Not even the promise of gold hood. So he decided to hold on to his mortal life while he still could.

This acceptance was turned on its head almost a year later. Walking upon the skin of Tartarus brought him closer to the edge, his legs encased in gold and green scales. His heels growing talons and nails sharpening to match. Percy’s naive acceptance was dashed the moment he looked into damsen’s red slit pupils, with dreadlocks decorated to match Percy’s own, and called him brother.

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon #ask game #Cthulhu writes

26 notes · View notes

petitmonde · 2 years

Note

jan/gigi “excuse me? i was innocent, you corrupted me” :)

Uh, it became a good while longer than a drabble but I doubt you mind that. So here's some useless lesbians for you.

----

Innocent until painted guilty

"Be careful!" Gigi's advice would have been a lot more useful if she wasn't also the person who could solve their problem right away if she wanted to. Instead, she's leaning against the cabinet that Jan is trying her damnedest to reach the top shelf of.

"Not helping," Jan groaned. She was on her very tip of her toes on a chair, arm struck out as much as it could, yet she still could barely reach the thing she was looking for. Just a smidge more, and she'd have it.

Gigi could see the disaster play out step by step seconds before it happened. Jan lost her footing, hurtling towards the ground if Gigi didn't do anything. Jan crashed into the cabinet, holding on for dear life. In that split second, Gigi caught Jan mid fall. The collision of their bodies against the shelves knocked down some of the painting supplies, including some red paint that splattered onto Gigi's floral dress.

"I told you to be careful, didn't I?" Gigi chides. Always the know it all when things go south.

They slid down to the floor where multiple colours of paint had spilled, further ruining Gigi's clothes and staining Jan's bare legs. They had made a mess of things, supplies every which way they looked around them. Gigi's scowl looked absolutely comical when she noticed the paint.

"I guess you did." Jan's light giggle didn't ease Gigi's glare one bit.

Jan realised that they'd have to clean up soon, lest someone walked in to give them detention for messing up the art room floor. She didn't doubt Gigi would be even angrier with her if that happened for one second, but with her scowl she feared she would be chewed up even further if she didn't lighten up the mood first.

Gigi's eyes focused on her now soiled garments. Then up to Jan, then down again. "My dress!" Gigi shrieked.

Gigi missed Jan's mischievous smile. Picking up a glob of paint from the floor with her index finger, Jan struck like lightning. With a quick stroke, Gigi's nose had been painted green. If Gigi had been mad before, she was absolutely livid now.

"JANICE!" Gigi's outrage was covered by Jan's now maniacal laughter. "This isn't funny." She crossed her arms and huffed.

"You gotta admit, it's a little funny." Jan's laughter pissed Gigi off. She'd show her. Jan was equally as distracted when Gigi picked up some of the purple to smear on her cheek. The paint was cold.

"Now is it funny?" Gigi's question was rhetorical.

"Absolutely it still is," Jan gave back as good as she got, flinging back some more paint. "Gee Gigi, you look mighty pretty in green. Though it's not a creative colour."

"You little," Gigi grumbled as she got on her knees. She was tired of sitting in wet paint. With the new angle, she could hit Jan back with even more colours.

Jan didn't give up on the little war that they had started, paint flying between them until Gigi had Jan pinned down to the floor. They were both sticky with splodges all on their clothes. Jan struggled against Gigi, who wouldn't give. The harsh features of her face had softened considerably.

"Do you give?" A hint of humour stained Gigi's voice. She was enjoying this.

"No." Jan giggled.

"Give."

"Make me." Jan stopped struggling. Her breaths came in heavy.

Gigi was so close, so unbelievably close. Jan was fully aware of every single point on her body that met Gigi's. Gigi's lips tasted like a toxic chemical concoction, which Jan supposes, made perfect sense. Their eyes met in a tender moment, before the two of them burst out laughing. Gigi rested her head against Jan's shoulder.

"As nice as this is, I think we need to clean up the crime scene," Jan said.

"Excuse me? I was innocent, you corrupted me," Gigi got off Jan, then helped her get up as well.

"I think we're both guilty. We need to atone for our sins."

"And how do we do that, oh wise one?"

"Kiss me again."

"That doesn't make any sense." Yet Gigi still did it. It didn't matter to her how stupid Jan's idea of atonement was.

Even after cleaning up everything, Jan and Gigi still ended up getting detention. It's hard to hide what you've been doing when you're both covered head to toe in paint, even with all the other evidence scrubbed clean. At least they had each other, even if they liked to annoy one another.

#goodesport #rpdr fanfiction #fic prompt

16 notes · View notes

mabon-madness · 2 years

Text

My Favourite Crystals and Why

I'm a notoriously anxious person that loves collecting small shiny things, I'm basically a human magpie. I've got more crystals than I could ever have imagined and over time I've developed some personal favourites, some of which I use for decoration, and others that I will never leave the house without. Admittedly, some of my favourites are such because I like their colours or patterns instead of their uses and benefits. Your collection of crystals should always be personal to you, and what sorts of stones you like. Whether you like to collect stones that exclusively aid in meditation or are exclusively purple is entirely up to you. So here's a list of my favourites with my reasons why, and a general idea of how they can be used!

Black Tourmaline: I prefer black tourmaline rough over tumbled as I love seeing the crystal's structure, I keep it on a necklace that I wear almost all the time. It protects against negative energies and negative thought patterns such as depression and anxiety.

Bloodstone: I love the dark green colouring of bloodstone, and the red iron inclusions are stunning. This is definitely my all-time favorite stone, and I keep a palm stone with me when I go out. Bloodstone is grounding and protecting, a good stone for stress and anxiety.

Blue Goldstone: Goldstone is a manmade crystal that looks as if it's made of pure glitter and it's so amazingly shiny. Blue goldstone is just as shiny but a deep navy blue colour which I adore. It promotes self-acceptance and can soothe hypersensitivity.

Dalmatian Jasper: Dalmatian jasper is a white-grey stone with black spots like a dalmatian (hence the name) and the spots can make beautiful patterns. This stone can help raise confidence and brings confidence when facing difficult situations.

Fluorite: Fluorite can contain gorgeous coloured bands of blue, purple, green, and yellow, just like carrying a little rainbow. Fluorite helps with concentration and can be used to aid quiet meditation.

Mahogany Obsidian: A black stone with red iron inclusions of spots and veins, I think it looks like blood splatters which is pretty cool. Mahogany obsidian can help you push your limits and increase your growth and development.

Moonstone: A light grey opalescent stone with utterly gorgeous rainbow flashes when you hold it to the light. Moonstone enhances your intuition, and brings harmony and calm to stressful situations.

Prehnite: A light but vibrant green stone that can help calm and organize the environment, bringing peace and protection and promoting peaceful dreams.

Turquoise: Turquoise is a beautiful blue-green stone that my great-grandfather gave me on a bracelet when I was a toddler and I've kept it with me since. Turquoise protects you during travel and can reduce travel-based anxieties.

Unakite: I love unakite as it was one of my first stones, and the piece I bought looked exactly like a dragon egg, and I love the colour combination of light green and salmon pink. Unakite dissipates nervous energies and stress, reducing anger and symptoms of anxiety.

#witchblr #witchcraft #crystals

10 notes · View notes

hostilecityshowdown · 2 years

Text

[ previous ] ♡ [ ao3 ]

Heartbreak Hotel: Put your loving hand out chapter three

18+ Exclusively.

spinoff of mango’s heartbreak hotel au

as always, co-written and edited by @sychosid. thank you to them and johnny

content warnings on AO3! i highly advise checking them out

No guests checked in all night, nor through the day. Diesel woke alone, comforter twisted around his legs and the pillows askew under him. His right shoulder was stiff and he turned onto his back, rolling his joints from his neck to his hips. He let those be and didn't dare tackle his knees yet, ever aware of the inevitable pain that would radiate up from his legs to his mid-back. Kneading his shoulder joint carefully, Diesel realised he was probably due for some tattoo touch ups; his ink was mixed with red willow and other ingredients the artist claimed had anti-inflammatory properties. He wasn't sure if that helped any, but laying in the cracked leather chair in the small, retro-modern studio owned by the only other person of the Ma'iingan-doodem he knew was better than a trip to the masseuse. The colour ink may fade more often using traditional materials, but it was therapeutic. It made him feel part of something, even if he'd never been able to integrate into his peoples' communities. It was that way for a lot of mixed kids his age, growing up.

His shoulder popping as it cleared the inflamed bursa during a rotation drew him out his thoughts, making him realise he had almost fallen back asleep. It was quiet. Birds were saying their goodnights, fading light filtering through the curtains, all the lights off save for the dim glow from the hall and the, seemingly endless, candles left to burn. The mirror mounted above the bed told him he was clothed only in his briefs, hair a curled disaster, a bruise blossoming on his left pec from Shawn steadying himself by placing all his weight on one arm. It looked like a heart surrounded by splattered blood, and it made his chest ache, the feeling too profound for Diesel to explain.

He was homesick.

"-No vacancies, sweetheart, you heard me. Aaaall booked out." A pause. "You're breakin' my heart. I get it, I get it… I know where you're coming from."

Shawn's voice was deeper than Diesel ever heard it out of bed. It was like he was trying to soften his tone but wasn't sure how. It sounding like the way whiskey tasted was enough encouragement for Diesel to force himself out of bed and down the hall. He had to do his shot, anyway.

"I wouldn't wanna leave a pretty dame like you out on the streets," Shawn's voice oozed with the same sleazy tone Diesel was used to hearing from Razor. He tussled his hair with both hands and shot Shawn a look of disapproval as he rounded the front desk, bending to pull out a lock box. Shawn blew him a kiss and pulled the key off the pegboard for him. "You blow through before sundown, you got a room… Only one we'll have open is the Honeymoon Suite. Flat rate, fifty bucks a pop-" Diesel rolled his eyes at Shawn punctuating his sentence by smacking his lips. "-alright, sweetheart? We look forward to seeing you. Thank you for calling the Heartbreak Hotline!"

The box was unlocked and the handset dropped back onto its cradle simultaneously. It was rare the cherry red rotary phone rang, but Diesel was hungry, mind was elsewhere; he wasn't going to ask. As he removed the vial and syringe kit from the box, Shawn dropped a new sharps disposal container beside it, swatting Diesel's hands away. He relented, leaning back against the desk and only hesitating in handing over the vial to check the expiration date.

"S'all good," his voice was a husky timbre from sleep.

"Course it is," Shawn chastised, speaking significantly more gently than usual. He was always like this about Diesel's transition and, frankly, Diesel never knew how to take it. It was normal for him, nothing special. Certainly not worth the care Shawn took to disinfect his deltoid and vial top with an alcohol pad and diligently sanitize his hands, to tear open the syringe and screw on the long, wide-gauge needle. Diesel never had to teach the hotel proprietor to draw air into the syringe before piercing the vial's lid with the needle and depressing the plunger. Shawn's focus was unbreakable as he flipped the contents in his hands upside down, extracted Diesel's exact dose, and aspirated the syringe. Gripped like a dart, Shawn sunk the needle into the muscle of his shoulder and pulled back on the plunger in one fluid motion. Satisfied with the lack of blood return, he injected the testosterone, produced a cotton ball from thin air, and pressed Diesel's skin down around the needle as he removed it. No blood, as always.

"You're perfect," Diesel rumbled, leaning over to kiss the top of Shawn's head as the shorter man dismantled and disposed of the biohazards in a flash. Everything locked back up and stashed behind the desk, Shawn melted into Diesel's arms, massaging his bare chest. He was dressed in a skintight, black tank top and blue jeans, a winged heart pendant hanging from a delicate chain and settling at the base of his throat. His gloves were blue and white, wrists taped, gaudy earrings replaced with glittering studs. His tan boots were kicked off in the corner and Diesel suspected his fret guitar-patterned Stevie Ray Vaughan socks were held up by his new garters, kaleidoscope sunglasses discarded on the desktop. "You look good. Going somewhere?"

"You implying I should, big D?" Shawn was tracing the bruise on Diesel's pec, full body weight against him, comfortably warm under Diesel's hands. His hair felt especially soft, cascading down his back in waves. "We got everything we need for a romantic date here, don't we?"

"I know somewhere you'd like," Diesel countered, giving Shawn a squeeze. He really had to brush his hair and teeth, dress, eat, work out - but Shawn was warm and draping over him like a cat. He wanted to go back to bed already. "Used to go with my best friend all the time, great-"

"I have a hotel to operate, in case you didn't notice." Interrupting, Shawn laid his hand over the bruise and pushed. When he looked up at Diesel through his thin lashes and honeyed bangs, his expression was stern. The pleasant tone had disappeared in a flash. "Twenty-four-seven."

Each word was punctuated with another push until Diesel grabbed his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze, moving Shawn's hand to his aching shoulder instead. Right. What was he thinking? Not that it mattered, he had to get himself cleaned up. He leaned down to capture Shawn's lips in a slow kiss, deepening it to run his tongue over his teeth when the tension drained from Shawn again. He still gave Diesel a smack on the arm for his bad breath, though, and shooed him off to pull himself together.

–

The night started slow. The Heartbreak Hotel didn't boast any fitness activities, being on the low end of honeymoon resorts, but there was some equipment in the employee area. Taking advantage of the rowing machine, Diesel's thoughts wandered aimlessly. His Gold's membership should still be active, maybe there was one nearby he could visit. Usually, he used any downtime he had during hauls to keep in shape and, sometimes, that meant he had to dive into tiny gyms built in the forties and fifties in all the Nowhere, USAs around the continent. Admittedly, he liked the ones up in Canada just fine, but he couldn't remember when his last drive into the Great North had been. How far was the Heartbreak Hotel from the border, anyway? Could he identify his location on a map?

Diesel's thoughts grew increasingly more muddled, slowing in his motions until he came to a complete stop. The Blues track he was blasting from the radio, stolen from Shawn as soon as he smacked the retro television out front on, evoked a memory he couldn't decipher. The memory of a memory; he remembered there was something to remember, but not what it was. He rubbed his sweaty forehead and breathed out deeply, hand feeling far away. The sensation that he was not where he was began to creep up, and Diesel clapped his left hand around his right. He flexed his fingers and dug his thumb into his palm in forceful circles, breath hitching.

He was seated on the rowing machine, legs straight. He was in the cab of his truck, legs bent, one hand on the wheel and his free foot tapping to the beat. He was in the hotel. The road rushed by. Shawn-

The phone rang shrilly. Diesel jumped, damn near hyperventilating, tears burning the corners of his eyes and a painful pressure building in his sinuses. Shawn let the Heartbreak Hotline ring once before he picked it up, popping his bubble gum before he spoke.

"Caller, go ahead." His tone was playful. He knew who was dialing in before he ever lifted the receiver. Diesel's breathing began to even out, soothed by the sound of Shawn's voice. "Yuuup. Where you callin' from…? Payphone at the Sweetheart Corner? Not an easy trek, but you'll find it. Just start walking, I'll keep the bed warm for you."

The clatter of the phone hanging up broke Diesel out of his state. He grabbed his things and took off into one of the newly renovated blue rooms, breezing past his boss without a word. The blue rooms felt quieter, less suffocatingly seedy, the floors patterned in tasteful linoleum and free from the standard, nauseating parade of reflective surfaces. They were full of flowers, wax melt burners, and cream coloured loveseats. The one Diesel shouldered his way into sported a dove motif, and he was relieved by the understated lighting in the bathroom, especially. Sometimes, the hotel's lights burned so warm they cast a red glow over everything. Bordered on all sides by patterned tiles, flower petals, and the soothing scent of fresh linens, Diesel threw himself into a cold shower.

At first, the change in atmosphere grounded him. He was able to turn the heat up to room temperature, combing lavender conditioner through his long hair with his fingers, standing under the spray. The water pressure was never good in any room, the Honeymoon Suite sporting the strongest of any faucet on the property.

The asphalt was lashed with freezing rain, so cold he felt it seeping into his feet through the soles of his shoes. The rain pelted him on a diagonal, pooling in shallow puddles. His hands smelled like petrichor and leather. He opened his eyes-

-The guy on his basketball team who wanted to hightail it out of Germany at the first opportunity was between his legs, probing, asking questions. They were both soaking wet, Diesel standing with his back to the locker room wall. His teammate was on his knees, reminding him he wasn't into men for good measure before he ate him out. Diesel drew back his fist and screwed his eyes shut-

-His fist cracked the shower wall tile but didn't dislodge its edges from the calking. His hair smelled like lavender, the bar soap freckled with flower petals clenched in his hand, body coiled on the bottom of the scuffed tub. It didn't smell right. His knuckles were bloody, the water so cold he couldn't feel a thing. Why didn't the soap smell right? There was still dirt clinging under his fingernails, as if the handful he dropped on the casket was desperate to stay, refusing to finalise the internment. He took a deep, shuddering breath-

-No air. Head pushed underwater at a bathhouse in the City, a complete stranger tried to hide him from a police raid, but he was pulled off Diesel like a dog lasso'd around the neck. His nose burned as he fought to stay submerged, eyes screwed shut against the sting of the oils that seeped off mens' bodies and into the water. He was going to pass out. A double-gloved hand grabbed his hair and pulled, baton breaking the surface of the water thunderously-

-Lightning illuminated the tunnel looming ahead. His hazards flashed behind him, flare fizzing and popping in the rain. It was dark. It was cold, and he was-

-In the shower, slumped against the wall, barely breathing. Diesel lifted a shaky hand and checked under his nails for dirt. For the first time since she'd died, he smelled like his mother. Not the soaps and perfumes and colognes, the hair products and popurri she left behind that he refused to replace until they were extinguished beyond use, no - That only made him smell like her things. He buried his face in both hands and choked back a sudden sob, confusion weakening his legs until he slid to the tiled floor of the standing shower, the scent of his mother's hair clinging to his hands overpowering him.

When was the last time he'd visited her grave? How far was it, and what was the date? How long had it been since she'd died? Razor had bought her such a beautiful wreath for Mother's Day that Diesel almost gagged on the emotions that washed over him when his closest friend presented it to him. He needed to call Razor.

He couldn't remember where he left his phone.

–

The Honeymoon Suite was immaculate, but empty, by the time Diesel dragged himself from the blue room. His hair was wet and uncombed, skin freezing cold, fingers numb. Unable to remember why he was on the floor of the shower, he assumed he fell asleep, dressing in a haze and seeking out Shawn. Shawn was stability, Shawn was real and warm and would blow out his hair the way he liked Diesel to wear it. Staggering back down the hall to the empty front desk, he flexed his hand and squeezed his palm, anxiety and deja vu taking turns rolling his stomach. For the first time in a while, Diesel walked out the hotel's front door.

On the wrap around porch, arms propped on the lattice fencing, was Shawn, bopping to a beat and humming the bass to a tune only he could hear. Diesel gripped the leather jacket he'd given him both the night before and eons ago, not releasing him when Shawn turned, grabbed his waist, and started swaying him. He was chewing on a toothpick and he smelled like fresh bread. "Nice shower?"

"Not too good," Diesel intoned, dizzied by the swaying but not fighting Shawn's rhythm. He furrowed his brow and frowned, shuddering at the chill that washed over him. The last snatches of colour were draining out of the sky, soaked up by the treeline, soon to drown in the horizon. "Waiting for somebody?"

"Mm," Shawn hummed and stood on his toes to kiss Diesel's cheek, leaning closer. "A guest who could really use a little vacation."

In revelation, Shawn involuntarily let out a subdued 'oh!', a sweet smile quickly softening his expression. He traced circles on Diesel's waist. "Could you pick her up for me, Diese? She's on foot and it's gettin' cold. She might be a little…" He did his best impression of an angry cat, one hand curled into a threatening paw and all. His nails were painted a pretty, metallic red. "But she's gotta get a room tonight, capische?"

Numbly, Diesel nodded. Shawn produced the keys to Diesel's '88 Bronco from his cat-paw-hand, folding Diesel's right hand around them. He didn't remember driving it to the hotel, a memory of locking the doors in the trucking company's lot illuminating in far off corner of his mind, but Shawn was peppering his jaw in kisses and distracting him from his thoughts. "Hubby's a little busy. I should warn you, me and her got some history."

At a loss for words, he nodded, tilting his head to kiss the side of Shawn's mouth that was free of the toothpick. The Bronco was in the parking lot and, before he realised it, he was driving down Brewerton Road in Syracuse, New York.

One of the most beautiful women he'd ever met was in the passenger seat. She looked angry. Her hair was a mess, face smeared in what looked like motor oil, hands stuffed under the blanket Diesel kept in the backseat. Stunned, he stopped watching the dark road ahead to stare at her.

"Kim-"

The Bronco jerked and came to a dead stop, Kimberly throwing her hands up to keep her head from hitting the dash. They were now in the parking lot, gravel crunching under the stilling tires. "What's the deal? You should have let me drive, if that's what you call parking."

"Kimmy?" Diesel was breathless. She frowned up at him, clearly annoyed by the nickname. Her expression cooled into something more haughty as she leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, blanket slipping off to reveal her shredded jacket. Beneath it, scabbed roadrash. His heart leapt into his throat, terror seizing his muscles as adrenaline shot through him.

Before she could say anything, Diesel turned the key and forced the engine back to life despite its protests. He threw one arm across her chest, her seatbelt absent, and reversed so quickly the Bronco almost stalled. They were on the road in seconds, flying past Club 37's illuminated sign, merging onto I-87 southbound in record time. Kimberly was shouting at him, his arm having already been shoved away. She could have broken it if she wanted to, her voice bordering on a snarl.

"-Right now. I have to call my-"

"Kim," Diesel cut her, and the Ford he passed in the right lane, off. His hands gripped the wheel so hard, he thought his fingers would break at the joints. He didn't question why he felt like his old friend was in grave danger, his trust of his instincts fueled by the smell of dried blood. Even to himself, he sounded like a raving madman. "You know me- I know your husband; it's Diesel, I used to work for Dallas, remember? At the club? What happened to you?"

"Diesel?" She went quiet. The blanket was pulled back up around her, and she complied when asked to buckle her seat belt. "I… Wiped out on the chopper, that real low rider? I was, uhm."

She rubbed her temple, staring at her hand when it came away with blood. "I was calling motels so I could take her to the mechanic in the morning. How… What's going on?"

The leather under Diesel's hands groaned as he clenched his jaw and grit his teeth, eyes wild. There was hardly any traffic. "No vacancies, sorry Kim. Listen," -he sucked in a breath through his teeth- "I'm getting you checked out, then it's a straight shot home, okay? I'll take you all the way down to Miami proper. Hell, I'll put down the deposit on a new bike for you."

His passenger settled back further in her seat. Maybe shock was finally setting in or a concussion hitting, but she reached out a hand, clenching the one Diesel offered her in a vice grip. Her voice was softer than he remembered ever hearing it. "I think I'm hurt pretty bad."

Diesel couldn't find it in him to disagree. "Do me a favour: Do not check into the Heartbreak Hotel."

–

Taking the first exit boasting a major hospital, Kimberly checked into the emergency room and Diesel slept in the parking lot.

–

Diesel woke alone, comforter twisted around his legs and the pillows askew under him. His right shoulder was stiff and he turned onto his back, rolling his joints from his neck to his hips, hands sore. When he lifted them to his face, they were covered in recognisable friction rashes, definitely from leather. He frowned and, before he even finished sitting up, realised something was very wrong. The hallway carried the lilting tones of Shawn's voice to him.

Bolting upright, Diesel jogged down to the front desk in nothing but his briefs. Shawn was on the phone and, as quickly as he could, he snatched it away from him. Shawn's protests, including his kick to Diesel's calf, went ignored.

"Hello? Hey-" Deafening static, then:

"This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System."

Pulling the Heartbreak Hotline away from his face, Diesel stared at it, dumbfounded. Shawn rolled his eyes, plucking the handset from his grasp and hanging it up, other hand pointing. Turning, Diesel saw the familiar EBS insignia and text crawl on the television.

"I was about to call into a TV hotline and win some sweet concert tickets, you know," Shawn huffed, punching Diesel's arm. The blaring tone of the television was cut off abruptly by the remote, Shawn crossing his arms and tapping his fingers, eyebrows raised. He was chewing on a toothpick.

"I… I'm sorry. I thought-"

"You- Pardon moi, you what?" Leaning forward, Shawn's expression was a cross between enraged and incredulous. He removed the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it at Diesel's chest. "I don't pay you to think."

Somewhere, the illusion snapped, toothpick silently disappearing into the carpet. Diesel's breathing was uneven, eyes angry as he slowly raked them up Shawn's body until he landed on his face. An oil stained cheek, a tasteful tease turned ratsnest, and a bloody jacket assaulted his memory. His hair smelled like his mother.

"I need to make a phone call." The statement dripped enough vitriol to stun Shawn as Diesel lunged for the rotary phone, dialing Razor's number in frenzy. It only had to ring once.

"Who's th-" The line went dead as Shawn slammed his hand down on the switch, trying to pry the phone from Diesel's hands. He refused to relent and, with something akin to a roar, Shawn spun on his heel and kicked Diesel in the jaw so hard, he sent him sprawling backwards over the loveseat in the lobby. His shit was rocked; Diesel was too disoriented to discern up from down, head cocked at an awkward angle, shoulder braced against the floor. He was half draped over the loveseat and he struggled to drag himself the rest of the way and roll upright without breaking his neck. His lip was bleeding.

"What the fuck, Shawn-"

"You work for me, you big oaf! I tell you to jump, you ask how high!" The blond was yelling, voice rasping at a volume Diesel didn't think was possible, and he scrambled backwards across the shag carpeting to put distance between them before climbing to his feet. By the time he regained his footing, Shawn was perched on the back of the loveseat mid-vault, one leg over, and he cleared it the rest of the way with a jump. He didn't seem so small anymore when he stormed up to Diesel and jabbed his finger in his chest, forced to lower his voice to avoid it breaking. "You do not make a phone call without my permission, you hear me? You have a nice, cushy career thanks to me - You owe me."

Diesel opened his mouth to shout a response, preparing to rear up and tower over Shawn at full height. From the employee area, the factory standard MicroTAC ringtone cut through the sound of both mens' laboured breathing. The colour drained from Shawn's face, and he stood stock still as Diesel shoved past him, forcing open the Employees Only door with a shoulder and darting inside. He found his wallet, mobile phone, windbreaker, sunglasses - Everything he'd been traveling with November second, 1991, in the midst of the Halloween Blizzard.

Gathering up only the belongings he checked in with, he barged back out of the employee lounge. His big rig's keys were the only ones on the pegboard, and he snatched them off without remorse. On his way to the door, he grabbed Shawn's shoulder and spun him around, rage twisting his face. "What the hell did you do? What in the ever loving fuck did you do?"

Slowly, Shawn looked up at him, an uncontrollable torrent of expressions flickering across his face. Everything felt darker, the air staler, dust particles drifting through the rainbow refractions shattered across the walls by the crystal beaded curtains. Shawn looked like he might vomit. "I… I'm stuck. I'm trapped here, Diese-"

He choked on his words and clutched the front of Diesel's leather vest. He didn't remember dressing, but he was wearing the outfit he arrived in, sans the windbreaker slung over his shoulder. It sounded like Shawn was going to cry, but no tears fell. His legs gave out from under him momentarily, sinking down before he hauled himself back up by his grip on Diesel's vest. He looked more struck by the bigger man not catching him than anything. "You can't leave me, Diesel. I can't be alone like that again. I- I need you, you get it, dontcha? 'sides, you're the manager and security, you got a good gig here, and you can't leave, you signed the papers. It won't let you, it won't let me-"

"Oh, yeah?" Diesel snorted. "Wanna bet?"

"You- you- can't, the hotel, it-" The argument died in Shawn's throat. He made a sound like a wounded animal when Diesel slid his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and leaned in, dislodging Shawn's grip with an upwards flick of his forearm.

"Manage this dump yourself, Heartbreak."

–

The truck's ignition fired just fine, and Diesel had no trouble backing up the abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike and merging back on I-76. The storm had passed. Judging by his calendar and clock, he had plenty of leeway to make his delivery on time. As soon as his wheels touched interstate pavement, his CB crackled to life.

"What's your 20, BDC?"

"This is Big Daddy Cool. QTH f-m-zero–nine-u-x, en route to New York and on schedule."

#[ voyager ]#[ heartbreak hotel au ]#[ mango madness ]#long post #one of my favourite women in wrestling gets to appear in this one but unfortunately. not for long.#she'd shut this shit down if she was actually involved. hm. that'd make this easier to write! /j #anyway thanks for dealing with my spam

6 notes · View notes