#and also dark circles because this man doesn't know when to rest

[edgepunk]

idk wanted to draw Peter and Johnny's eyes

[starlit-sanguine]

Random assorted Obey me headcanons.. PART 2..✦

Part 1 here <3

Diavolo:

Most of his smiles are out of politeness when he's around nobles and other people of status, though you can tell he's irritated from the way his eye twitches or his jaw clenches when his allies bring up politics or some other important topic, all of his Smiles are reserved for you, and the people within his circle ♡

The prettiest eyes ever, they're this enchanting shade of Gold that look like pools of honey when they hit the sunlight. They hold this sense of wonder whenever he talks, ever the curious one as he's still learning about human customs and how they work, speaking of humans; Always looking for you or Solomon within a room, excited to speak to either of you! if you're together? even better because he would love to see how you interact!

His coat has to be sewn often because when he's bored in meetings he'll play with the golden buttons on the sleeves and they end up falling off due to the constant fidgeting and tugging... Barbatos really needs to get him some kind of toy because he's tired of accidentally pricking his hands with the sewing needle.

FANGS, not really visible unless he's laughing or smiling at one of the brothers dry jokes or escapades. He's quite embarrassed by them because he thinks they make him look silly.

Stretches a lot, and when his back makes a snapping noise he always gets a little kick out of seeing Lucifer in specific, grimace. He never noticed until one day he stood uo to grab something from his office, and his shoulder cracked, and Lucifer immediately scowled and raised a brow, still standing in his designated place in the school council office; Diavolo noticed this and quirked a brow, Lucifer was never this expressive usually? So he did it again and the demon had to look away in disgust, and now the future king of the devildom pulls this shit all the time just to see his friend get grossed out.

Barbatos:

Has this really cute habit of tilting his head when he's confused, he doesn't mean to, its just his nature. But its so out of character for him, which is probably why its so amusing to Solomon and Diavolo... mostly Solomon. He and Luke will be reading up on a recipe and it'll mention an ingredient he's never heard of.. causing him to tilt his head and hum a questioning "hm?"

Also has pretty eyes, This verdant green that stands out against the rest of his features (apart from his hair that I'm jealous of), They also glow in the dark, which scares the everloving soul out of anyone in the room with him. His eyes are also reflective like a cats))

At Diavolo's meetings he keeps his tail wound around his leg, ready to put anyone in their place. No one will speak up to the future king of the devildom when his right hand man has glowing eyes, a pratical weapon around his leg and a charming yet threatening smile that he uses on people to shut them up.

Gets along well with the brothers, but mainly Lucifer, One night whilst Diavolo was hosting a gala, Lucifer couldn't take the overwhelming.. everything that was the ballroom, so he snuck out to take a small de-stress walk, that's where he caught Barbatos sat by the piano- also destressing for a minute- and they sat together for awhile as he played a few notes as he talked, about the devildom, Diavolo and maybe opening up slightly. Lucifer thinks about that moment often, and how he knows things about Barbatos that many will never know.

In his rare downtime he likes to read, finding the world of fiction to be interesting. Especially fantasy books written by humans because he likes to see how wrong they were about certain things.

Simeon:

A really fast walker, unintentionally taking huge strides as he makes his way through the halls of RAD, always has to stop every few minutes to let Luke catch up to him, He's only a baby!! he can't walk that fast!!

Fairly clusmy, Once he was at a convention and someone asked if a spelling error in TSL was actually a hidden meaning for something and he just shrugged and said in his sweet voice, "No, I just could not spell the word correctly so I went with it ahaha"... yeah the fandom was furious for weeks.

Walks with his hands behind his back, mimicking Lucifer. It started at a meeting with MC, Beelzebub and Luke and Diavolo and Lucifer were discussing the whole Cerberus incident, and Simeon felt out of place with his casual stance, so he held his arms behind his back to try and look stern, it just kind of stuck..

Has this stupid flirty on and off thing with Solomon, talking to the sourcerer with a teasing tone to his voice and smiling whenever the Wizard retorted with some innuendo that definitely shouldn't be repeated out loud. Should the Angel be making dirty jokes with the human? no. but will he stop?... also no

the prettiest smile in the whole cast, makes everyone smile back due to the amount of positive energy that the Angel radiates, he just wants everyone around him to be happy, bringing joy is his job after all.

Solomon:

The most charming voice, complimented by his pretty eyes and stupidly cute smirk, he wants you to know that his attention is fully on you, that despite all his pacts and in all the years he's been alive, that you're the only one that truly matters.

Easily jealous, he won't show it but there'll be signs, his grip will tighten on your shoulder, or his eye will twitch in annoyance, he barely gets any time with his beloved apprentice! now someone's trying to shorten it??! He thinks not.

For the love of the stars above he cannot sit normally, cannot sit with his legs together otherwise he might go insane. The worst man spreader known to man, also has an awful slouch when he's deep into his work.

His eyes shimmer when they hit the moonlight, they look dead in the sun, just a stone brown with nothing to add to it, but when the moon hits them there's this explosion of colour, Within the grey split brown of his sectoral heterochromia lay splices of blue and green, touches of his past humanity that he's lost touch with.

Has piercings that match Asmo's. Collarbones are adourned with a pretty silver bar with pearls holding them in place, and his earlobes are pierced and usually decorated with earrings that dangle and show off some of his personality that hides behind his smile.

Luke:

I only really have one for him!! and its that he loves the rain, due to memories with Barbatos and Mammon from the walk they took, (referencing a memory card) His favourite flowers are hydrangeas also due to this memory!

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law 😭😭😭 you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic

a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive 💀

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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when he comforts you:

-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.

-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.

-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that 💀) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.

-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.

when he needs comforting:

-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.

-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.

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a/n: soft law my beloved 😭😭😭😭😭 i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast 💀 it's been a minute since i wrote one of these 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

[ihave-atummyache]

lap up!

Stray Kids Imagine/Blurb

OT8

summary: sometimes you have to lap up, to save space… or just because you can.

mega fluff, SFW

3.1k words

Bang Chan:

When he is especially tired, he has himself wanting you on his lap. If he wants to wake up, you're like an espresso shot for him. If he wants to fall asleep, you're like a warm blanket that he loves.

He finds the most peace when your bodies are pressed against one another. He's a real lover and genuinely can never get enough of you.

If you are just sitting in his lap, he is fidgeting with your clothes or your hair. He might be absentmindedly squeezing and rubbing you. We all know the man can't keep his hands still.

He’s definitely the type to push his hands into the rips of your jeans and squeeze at the the plush of your thighs.

—

You walk into the studio and sit your bag down. Chan seems to sense your presence and pulls the headphones off his ears.

"C'mere," his accent is thick, a sign that he is getting tired. You smile and cross the room to your pretty boyfriend. You step between his open legs and lace your fingers through the unruly curls on the back of his head.

Chan's hands rest on your hips for a moment, thumbs rubbing back and forth before he looks up, his gaze meeting your's.

"Hi," you smile softly down at your boyfriend, your hands grazing down to his jawline, your own thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, you've always thought he looked the (hottest) prettiest when he’s bare face and in producer mode.

He looks at you with a lopsided, sleepy, smile before his hands leave your hips, grazing over your ass. He stops there, giving a quick squeeze, before letting his hands trail to the back of your thighs.

He sits back away from you, pulling you towards him. The motion has you being pulled to straddle his lap. You quickly oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

He inhales deeply under you before letting it out, a low and sleepy groan leaving with the breath. His hands loosen for a moment, pushing under your sweatshirt and his hands press against your bare skin, making you jump.

"Mm, cold hands, Channie," you giggle and he lets out a chuckle, pulling you closer anyways.

"Smell so good... ‘S warm. I just need to finish this song and then we can leave and I can have you all to myself," he grumbles, more to himself than to you. You chuckle and run your hand back into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

"Am I motivating you to hurry up?" You ask and he immediately nods. You laugh again, "Good. That was the whole reason I came in here," you press a kiss to the top if his head.

Lee Know:

Minho pulls you onto his lap whenever he wants and deems it would be fit. Meaning, if someone's gaze is lingering on you a bit too long or if he thinks that you're drawing too much attention to yourself.

It doesn't matter to him what the setting is. It could be at an award show (if you're public), a family gathering, in front of the boys, wherever! He's a possessive little shit and you both know it.

And also his thighs are just soooo sittable. Like you can’t look at his juicy pretty thighs and tell me they’re not BEGGING someone to sit in his lap!!

Also! Chronically cold hand haver!! I believe his hands are cold most of the time. I can’t explain why but it makes sense to me. He’s the type to shove his hands down your pants, not in a sexual way (sometimes), and rest them on your thighs, his cold skin raising goosebumps on your thighs before they eventually warm up.

—

You're sat on the arm chair that Minho is sitting on, your back to him as you indulge in a conversation with some random guy you just met. You're at a work gathering for your boyfriend and you've been getting a lot of attention all night.

Minho talks about you constantly but you had never been able to make it to anything work related for him until now. This is the first time his coworkers and staff are able to meet you, outside of the boys. To their surprise, you're just as charming and beautiful as Minho had described you! They thought he was exaggerating, wearing the rose colored glasses, but you're honestly amazing.

Minho's arm wraps around you, his hand resting on your thigh, playing with the threads hanging from the holes in your jeans, absentmindedly. You let out a laugh at what the man in front of you said, your head tilting back.

The sound of your laughter immediately pulls Minho's attention away from his own conversation to your's instead. What could possibly have been that funny?!

Before you can process it, his hand that was resting on your thigh wraps around your waist and he pulls you into his lap, making a squeak leave your lips at the sudden movement.

You fall back, your legs still resting over the arm of the chair and turn your face towards your boyfriend, his gaze elsewhere in the room.

"You big, jealous baby," you grumble and roll your eyes but adjust yourself anyways in his lap. You wrap your arm around his neck and twist the hair at the base of his skull before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheekbone.

Changbin:

Like Minho, juicy thighs. So firm but soft at the same time. I also just know that Changbin is one of those people who is always warm. My source? Just trust me.

If you’re especially cold, he’ll pull you into his lap and wrap his big, warm arms around you. I feel like he really likes having you sitting on his lap in general. He feels like he’s protecting you and that natural instinct just takes over. Changbin loves to take care of his baby!

He likes that he can feel you immediately melt into his touch when he wraps his arms around your torso. He has no problem placing you in his lap himself either. He’s quick to pick you up and plop you right into his lap. (strong man. i need him so bad. u dont understand. im tweakin rn)

—

“Gotcha,” Changbin’s voice spooks you and his warm breath against your neck. You let out a squeak when he cups an arm under your knees and the other around your torso before he, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet.

“What are you doing?” You giggle out, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carries you out of the dining room, where you had been rereading some papers for work, completely oblivious to your surroundings.

“You are to engrossed in your work. You didn’t even hear me come in. I could’ve been an intruder, y’know?” he raises and eyebrow at you as he approaches armchair and sits down, placing you sideways in his lap.

“But I know I had the door locked and was perfectly safe,” you counter, tapping his nose gently with your finger tip. He chases your finger with his teeth, chomping on air when you move just a little faster than him.

“But babyyy,” he whines, his arms wrapping around your waist and his face nuzzling into your neck. You roll your eyes but wrap your arms around his head anyways.

“If you needed a cuddle, you could’ve just said that, bunny,” you tease and he scoffs against your neck, pulling you closer anyways.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin is a fan of lap sitting but only for a short period of time. He gets hot easily and will get hot even faster with your body heat against him. It usually starts off as you sitting in his lap but eventually evolves to you sitting between his legs.

Whether he is on the couch and you’re on the floor below him or you’re still sitting on furniture, you usually end up with your boyfriend’s legs on either side of your body.

If you do sit in his lap and he knows it’ll be for a while, he prefers for you to be perched on one of his thighs, your legs between his own.

However, Hyunjin has said before that he gets cold easily. Therefore, if you two are at a winter show or an event and it gets cold outside, he just slowly moves closer and closer until you are in his lap, acting as his own personal heated blanket.

—

“I told you to bring a thicker coat, baby,” you scold your boyfriend when he inches closer to you, pulling one of your legs on top of his. You turn your body towards him before swinging your other leg onto his lap as well.

“I know, I know. Don’t scold me,” he grumbles, pulling his beanie further over his ears, which were quite red from the cold nip in the winter air. You turn your attention back to your friend’s daughter’s winter show. They were showing a Christmas classic and you wouldn’t miss it for the world, despite it being on an outdoor stage.

Your attention is drawn back to your dramatic boyfriend when he lets out a whine, pulling you completely into his lap. You roll your eyes but adjust, wrapping you arms around your dramatic boyfriend. He immediately presses his cheek to your chest, his eyes still on the show.

“Such a baby,” you tease him and he shrugs, his eyes never leaving the stage.

“Yeah yeah. You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to date me, angel,” he whispers quietly and you chuckle, returning your gaze to the performance on stage.

Han:

Han loves to be close to you 24/7. You're his personal happy pill and everyone knows it. Whenever he gets into a funk or just feeling down, you have the ability to bring him back to you.

You usually notice that he's going downhill before he even notices. All it takes is you distracting him from whatever has him hyper fixated and feeling down. Usually it is some post or comment on social media or sometimes he just starts to get down for no particular reason (dont we all).

It’s like magic the way you have the power to bring him instant comfort, no matter the circumstances. If he had a nightmare? He pulls you into his lap and you’re basically acting as a weighted, girlfriend shaped, blanket.

—

"Hannie?" You peak your head into the spare room in your house. His back is to you as he's hunched over his computer, headphones on. Chan had texted you and told you that Han had been feeling a bit defeated about a specific song that they had been working on.

He was having the worst writers block ever and you hoped you could pull him away from the screen, his poor eyes probably strained from how long he has been staring at the screen.

You approach, gently closing the door behind you and approach his slumped over frame. You place your hands on his shoulders, rubbing there for a moment before he lets out a deep sigh.

You circle the chair and gently push the headphones around his neck, his big does eyes staring up at you from behind black framed glasses.

"Hi my baby," his voice is hoarse, he clearly hasn't spoken in a while, probably since he sat down at this computer. You push his hair away from his face and lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips before sitting in his lap and leaning your back against his chest.

"Watcha workin' on?" You ask, hoping that if he talks about it, it'll help with his slump. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. He reaches towards the computer and pulls up the beat he's been working on.

Han pulls the headphones from around his neck and settles them on your own head before pressing play and the pretty melody fills your ears.

"This is really good!" You exclaim, much louder than intended, due to the noise canceling headphones. He lets out a chuckle and pulls the headphones from your head.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, forcing a giggle from your lips at the feeling of his breath.

"I love you so much, you have no fucking idea," the words that leave his mouth are quiet, almost like he didn't want you to hear his little confession. You reach behind yourself and scratch at his scalp gently.

"I love you more than anything," you confess in return, turning your head to press your lips to his.

Felix:

You often find yourself in Felix's lap but surprisingly enough (not really), he also ends up in your lap!! He never does it in a soft way though. He genuinely uses you like a chair. He's light, and you don't usually mind.

When you sit in his lap, however, it's all wandering hands and gently kisses. He's just a soft little baby and he loves to hold you. If he could crawl into your skin, he quite literally would.

Not that you mind his affections, he was like this even before you two began dating. He has always been down bad for you since he first laid eyes on you.

—

You don't even look up from your phone when you feel your boyfriend sit on your thighs. You're slumped back into the couch and he saw the opportunity so he took it.

He's leaned forward away from you, one hand on your knee between his legs and the other one holding the glass in his hand. He's talking to one of the boys about some new video game and you couldn't care less, opting to scroll through social media instead.

"I love being your personal chair," you chuckle after a few minutes, your eyes never leaving your phone.

"I'm pretty sure you have texted me and said that if you were a chair you would want me to sit on you. Consider this a favor," he replies over his shoulder at you and you roll your eyes, laughing again.

You absentmindedly run your nails up and down his back, making him relax a bit more, more of his weight sinking onto your thighs. You don't even notice yourself doing it, its such a routine for the two of you to be affectionate like this.

Felix has no problems with physical affection or PDA. It might’ve taken some getting used to on your end, but he really is overflowing with genuine love.

Seungmin:

He likes to have you in his lap in private. He wants you to sit facing him and wrap around him like a koala. It makes Seungmin feel so safe and so loved to be completely surrounded by you like that.

He also likes to rest his head in your lap after a hard day. Usually when you're catching up on some shows or reading, he'll come in and not even bother changing his clothes. He'll kick his shoes off and crawl onto the couch next to you, resting his head in your lap.

In front of others, Seungmin has this tsundere personality that he is determined to maintain but when it is just the two of you, he's just a baby. He's babied by his whole family and he's used to this kind of treatment. He likes to be doted on, although he'll pretend he doesn't.

Most the time, if you have guests over, you rest your feet in his lap or your legs over his lap. His hands will absentmindedly stroke your ankles, calves, feet, whatever he can reach.

—

You hear your boyfriend before you lay eyes on him. The door swings open and a sigh that is so characteristically Seungmin meets your ears, making you press pause on your T.V. show.

"Baby?" You call out but you don't get a reply, instead you do hear him kick his shoes off in the doorway. He finally rounds the corner and you lay eyes on him, his broad shoulders slumped and deep bags under his eyes.

"I'm so happy to be home," he mutters before crossing the room and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans down and kicks his feet up on the couch before settling his head in your lap. He lets out another breath, his hand making it's way under your thigh for warmth.

"Long day?" You question, your hands threading through his messy hair, gently scratching at his scalp. He hums in response before letting his eyes fall shut.

"I'll run you a bath when you wake up," you promise and lean down, pressing a kiss to his temple before grabbing the remote and pressing play on your show again.

I.N:

Like Seungmin, Jeongin also isn't too touchy feely in public. However, he loves you sitting in his lap in front of people. He may not be too fond of PDA but the man is still possessive (aquarius king).

He's the type to pat his lap when you lock eyes from across the room, signaling for you to have a seat on your throne! He usually keeps his hands to himself, resting a ring clad hand on your thigh or hip.

But, he has also developed the same habit as you and will absentmindedly play with your fingers or hands. He'll twist your rings around if you have some on or he'll rub your hands.

Because you play with his hands so much, he'll sometimes offer you his hands to rub and play with until your heart is content!

—

You look up from your phone after reading your boyfriend's message, immediately meeting his fox-like gaze. A soft smile creeps onto his lips and he sits up straighter on the couch before gently patting his lap.

You cross the room quickly, squeezing through people and random conversations between all the people that are taking up the practice room. They're rehearsing for a big music show and there's a lot of moving parts going into the performance.

"You looked uncomfortable. You okay?" Jeongin's voice is soft as you approach and you nod before stepped between his open legs and settling on one of his thighs.

"Better now," you let out a sigh of relief before wrapping your arm around his neck and leaning more of your weight into him. He hums in response and places his hand on your thigh, squeezing before turning his hand face up.

"Try to relax, pretty," his voice is quiet, careful to not let the others hear it. You grab his hand and quickly begin cracking his knuckles.

"You know how to calm me down so well," you smile and glance over at his boyfriend, a wide smile on his face as his eye flicker between each of your's.

"It's my job to take care of my future wife," he teases and you immediately feel your face heating up before mumbling a low 'shut up' and avoiding his gaze.

sorry i’ve been down bad lately on changbin if u cant tell

[luigifan1998]

Hey idk where u manifested from but i love ur blog and i love u. Ur writing for wife hc’s left me devastated, 1,000% agree with all of it. That man is a fucking mess who wants to crawl under ur skin and it’s so sexy.

Thought I’d love for you to entertain: College Lu pining over u, the prettiest girl in one of his lecture hall classes. Him being so pathetically down bad for you he’s stalking ur social media desperately to find out more about u as a person, trying to see what direction ur off to after class, looking for u all around campus. Not knowing ur going insane doing the exact same thing in regards to him, because i am also willing to die on the hill that this man NEEDS to feel intoxicated off a mysterious gorgeous deviant mentally ill girl he’s plotting to speak to any day now.

this is so sweeeeet smooches you

you get the vision. growing up in such a prestigious family, an italian one at that, has instilled a fatal flaw within him. hes a morbid longer. source: trust me

morbidly longing for something he cannot find, did not find in high school, failed to access in college, could not obtain in maryland, hawaii, japan. hes soooo "its not a metaphor, this ache". much of his life has been about perfection and following rigid societal practices. he wants something disgusting and consuming and nauseatingly complex. my sweet im your man by mitski boy

in regards to the second part, his infatuation for you is anything but cathartic. hes losing sleep, losing focus. he cannot string a coherent thought together, much less engage in banter with his social circle. he pulls back and into the recesses of his mind that allow the perverse nature of his adoration to overtake him. his friends are relieved, assuming hes finally succumbed to the exhaustion from making himself available to everyone. theyre happy he can find rest. they dont know that the nauseating and near animalistic drive to check your internet presence is something hes sodden with shame over. he feels like a fraud for writing about the importance of divorcing ones self from the modern cellular device. despite it, the practice of poised fingers as to not alert you of his invisible attendance is something his resilience in the protest of social media has become soft to. knowing its wrong, pathetic, inappropriate, he feels like he has to punish himself in some way. in the ever-rare moments he finds himself alone, he touches himself and he doesn't allow for completion. invites the pressure build within, increased sensitivity and a gnawing desperation for release. he doesnt let himself be reduced to the inability to control himself from spilling into his cupped hand and down his cotton briefs until hes seen you in real life. a gift to himself. walking to class, talking to a mutual friend, swaying back and forth as you wait in line in the dining hall. this reverence is not sustainable without more give, and he is wearing like loved linens

hiding the way you feel for him is, in many ways, easier. you escape into buildings for majors you have never heard of when you spot him walking in your direction. you cherish the blessing of being able to use your hair as a curtain in which to protect yourself from the prospect of being perceived when in close proximity to him through your mutual friends congregating sporadically throughout the campus. you blame various ailments for reasons as to why you cannot go to gatherings you had previously agreed to attending. its heavy, this curse of needing. you want to drop to your knees and crawl to him, taking his fingers into your mouth and letting the love-conditional curse break, but you dont. cant. wont let it. it feels too good to have this private affliction be something you own. darkness on a leash, locked into a tower only you have access to. when nobody knows how you feel, not even him, he can be yours

[prettydaisygirl]

Feel free to tell me to stop whenever...

James, Athlete (Goalkeeper), 🌹SFW JLQ!

I literally just can't get enough of your stuff! 🤣

girl i'm not going to tell you to stop lmaooo send as many as you want!! it's a celebration for a reason haha go wild

🌹 rose (love, admiration, respect): Pick a character and an AU from the lists above, then choose 1-3 letters from the SFW or NSFW alphabet & I will answer them for you

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

James Potter, Athlete, and JLQ (SFW)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh boy is athlete!James jealous. He wants everyone to know you belong to him. You wear his jersey at every game, and of course there is no question it's his because he's the goalkeeper, his jersey is unique. He arrives to every game with his arm around you, and ends every game with his lips on yours, win or lose.

So, how anyone can think you're single is beyond him. But, it does happen. One day before a game, James is searching for you after warmups, already hot and breathing heavy. He sees you, and his heart soars like it always does. But then, his steps falter. One of the new cameramen is talking to you. You're smiling politely, hands clasped in front of you. You nod at whatever the man says, and James' jaw clenches when he watches the other man lean closer to you. He doesn't need to see his face or read his lips to know what he's saying. 'you know, doll, you're absolutely stunning.' or 'your eyes are gorgeous, love, did you know that?" The same lines James used.

James puffs up his chest, pushing his shoulders back and readjusting his headband. His eyes, normally more of a honeyed brown, are now like dark chocolate, hard as he slides up behind you and wraps his arm around your middle. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, hand rubbing circles over your stomach. "Hey, baby..." he'd say, and you'd instantly understand what was happening. He only calls you baby in the dead of night when the two of you are tangled in the sheets. The other man at least has the decency to look sheepish when James flashes his signature smile.

"Make sure you have your cameras on me tonight, yeah? I'm winning this one." James would say, and give the other man a cheeky wink. The cameraman would nod and instantly dash away. James would be smug and extra touchy/clingy for the rest of the night.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Children ADORE athlete!James. Not only have they likely seen him on TV, so they obviously idolize him, but James has this aura about him that kids love. That bright, sunny disposition of his leaves children feeling comfortable and safe around him, and James doesn't mind at all. In fact, it's not odd to find children climbing all over him like he's a very handsome piece of playground equipment.

And can you imagine him holding a baby??? swoon. His big arms and toned muscles from years of training are perfect for holding and cuddling little kids. Your baby fever acts up every time James presses a kiss to a little cheek.

PS: athlete!James wants a LOT of kids. Like... enough to have a team of his own.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Let's be so real, athlete!James is a bit of a himbo. He focused on athletics in his childhood, and he's had enough concussions for it to be worrisome (especially as goalie). So as much as I'd want to say he remembers everything about you, he definitely doesn't.

He'll forget things you'd expect him to remember, like your takeout order or which brand of tea you like. But he'll also remember things you definitely don't expect, like a purse you'd mentioned liking once in passing while the two of you walked through a shop, or your favorite childhood movie.

James loves you, and you know his selective memory isn't a reflection of how much love he has for you. Because even if he doesn't remember something (or even if he does), he asks. About everything. Sometimes it can get annoying but James wants to make sure he gets everything right always.

And if he messes something up? He's SO apologetic, showering you with affection for days even if you tell him that it isn't a huge deal.

He just loves you a lot, okay?

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[feveredvisions]

Arms

(Harry Da Souza x Jan Da Souza) | Contains Spoilers

Summary: After a long day spent buried in secrets and war plans, Harry Da Souza crawls into bed beside the woman he’s hurt more times than he can count and still calls home. As the threat of gang warfare between the Stevensons and the Harrigans looms, a rare moment of vulnerability cracks through his walls. Haunted by a violent past and a love he never thought he deserved, Harry finds himself clinging to the only thing that ever made him feel real: Jan’s quiet, unrelenting arms. Author's Note: Spent the entire week at work writing this. Squeezes my heart everytime. I like to think that Harry and Jan gets to have this moment together somehow. Main inspo for this was the song "Arms" by Christina Perri and a dash of "Dancing Away With My Heart" by Lady A. Go play them in a separate tab/your streaming app while reading this for the feels. Aaand do let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist for future Harry Da Souza fics and other characters Tom has played. I'm also open for requests! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading my work xx

The devil prowls after hours.

Harry Da Souza sits with it while he eats a cold cucumber sandwich at the kitchen counter. After thoroughly washing and scrubbing his hands clean,  of course. Staring through the marble as he chews, swallows, washes it down with a glass of full-cream milk. The word rattles around his skull like a bullet in a tin can. The Harrigans and the Stevensons, circling each other like starving dogs. Harry? He’s smack in the middle—lieutenant, fixer, commander-in-chief, ready to command fire if this thing really blows.

Upstairs, Jan is asleep. Or pretending to be. These days, it’s hard to tell.

He washes the plate, leaves it to dry in the drying rack. He knows she hates waking up to dirty dishes.

He pads upstairs quietly, toeing off his shoes at the door and quietly entering their bedroom and closing the door, shrugging out of his jacket and the rest of his clothes. Changing into his nice comfy silk pajama blouse and house shorts. Keeping his Rollex, his wedding ring, and his necklace he rarely takes off unless it's to be cleaned. Their bedroom is dim and illuminated by the soft moonlight and the soft warm light coming from the lamp beside the bed which he flicked off. The faint silver moonlight remains. His wife’s back turned to him, her silhouette a soft curve under the duvet.

Harry slides in beside his wife with the careful precision of a man used to moving without being heard. Every movement and apology.

For a moment, he just lies there. Then, gingerly, he reaches for her. His arm slips around Jan’s waist, pulling her back against his chest. She doesn’t stir, not at first. Harry exhales, his nose brushing the nape of her neck, breathing in the faint trace of her perfume. Something floral, expensive. The kind of thing he buys her because nothing but the best, even if she barely wears it for him anymore.  

He squeezes his eyes shut as his mind sprinted. The war, the family, Bella bloody Harrigan. His daughter’s schooling. Jan’s solicitor waging some sort of psychological war with him by sending drafts of a separation agreement.

He refuses to surrender to the practicality of it. Well, it wasn't at all practical for his ego. He doesn't quit. He either resolves. Or shoots the problem right in the face and leave no traces of its existence. That's not their marriage. Divorce absolutely was not a solution. Especially not now when everything is so easily within reach and could easily be taken away from him. The rest can go to shit. He’s keeping his family close where he can monitor them and keep them safe.

Then Jan stirs. A slow shift of weight, a quiet inhale. Harry stills, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she turns in his arms, facing him now in the dark.

For a long moment, they just look at each other.  Jan’s eyes are half-lidded with sleep, but there’s something sharp in them, too. She always sees through him before he gives her an answer.

“You’ll keep us safe, right, Harry?” Her voice is thick from sleep, but the edge is there. The one she’s honed over years of biting her tongue. There was no point arguing with him. He's like a wall that had gotten tougher to get through as the years passed.

The question hangs between them, unspoken. He answers it anyway.  

“Yeah, babe,” he murmurs, thumb brushing her hip. “Course I will. Always.” It’s a lie. Or maybe it’s not. He doesn’t fucking know anymore.  

Jan watches him, her gaze tracing the lines of his face like she’s searching for something. Then, quietly she speaks again. “I can practically hear the gears shifting in your head. Running in sports mode.”  

Harry huffs a weak laugh, nuzzles her shoulder. "Been running since I was a kid, sweetheart. Never found the brakes."

“Mm.” She doesn’t push. Doesn’t question further. Just lets the silence sit between them, thick with everything they don’t say.

Then Jan shifts closer. Her hand finds his chest, fingers curling into the silk fabric his pajama blouse. Not pulling him in, not pushing him away. Just there.

Slowly and carefully, Harry lifts his arm. An invitation. Jan hesitates. Then she moves into him, tucking her head under his chin, her body slotting against his like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Maybe they have. Maybe they’ve just forgotten how.

✦•················•✦•··················•✦

Juvenile Detention Centre – 1998

Harry Da Souza was seventeen the first time he learned that silence could be a weapon. But before that, he always puts up a fight. Never bowing down to anyone especially not to a copper.

The guard, Bastard, Harry called him in his head, because names had power and he refused to give him one—had a habit of lingering too long during headcount. His fingers dug into Harry’s shoulder like he was testing the give of his bones, his breath sour with cheap whiskey.  

The bastard's rules were: You don't look at me unless I tell you to; You don't speak unless I ask you to; You don't fucking breathe unless I let you. But rules didn't stop the Bastard from cornering Harry in the showers; from slamming him into the tiles hard enough to crack rib; from grinning when Harry choked on his own blood.

And Harry, fifteen and already sharp as a shiv with one eye swollen shut, lip split, had looked the bastard dead in the eye and said, "Piss off, you fat cunt” and disdainfully spat at the officer's smug face. Fuck the silence. 

"You're a nasty little rat, Da Souza. But l'II teach you some manners.”

That earned him two more weeks in solitary and by the third month, he had stopped fighting back.

The day Harry got out, Jan was waiting for him at the gates. The sky was blue and blinding. Quite a harsh welcome back to the civility. His duffel bag slung over one shoulder, limping slightly. Still too lean. Bruises blooming along his cheekbone, a cut across his lip healing ugly. He hadn’t slept the night before nor in the last three months. Not properly. You don’t sleep in a place like that where the guards have keys and inhumane sadistic grudges.

They gave him back his clothes, a plastic bag with a shirt that didn’t fit anymore as he’d managed to work up on his strength and build with the others; trainers with the soles curling, and his dignity left rotting somewhere in the back wing of juvenile lock-up.

And waiting just outside the gate, like a fucking mirage was Jan. Prim in her stupid little blazer and pleated skirt, leaning against the hood of her father's Jag like she hadn't just skipped a class to be here. Like she hadn't spent the last six months writing him letters he had read but never answered. Like she doesn't care picking up her…wayward friend or…whatever the fuck Harry was.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

Jan didn't flinch. Just tilted her head studying him like he was a particularly difficult maths problem. "You look like shit.”

“Cheers, babe. Knew I could count on you for a warm welcome.”

Her eyes swept over his hunched shoulders, the way he held his ribs, his guarded stance like he expected another blow from behind.

And then hesitantly, gently, she stepped forward and opened her arms. Not demanding. Just open.

"The fuck-” Harry flinched. He hadn’t been touched with kindness in months. Maybe ever. But she didn’t press, didn’t tug, just waited. He stepped into her. Slowly. Like a beaten dog walking into safety. And when her arms wrapped around him, something in him cracked.

His throat tightened up and blinked his stinging unshed tears away. He didn’t cry. Couldn’t. But for a second, the world and the pains in his body muted. No guards, no cold floors, no muffled screams in the night. Just Jan. Her clean perfume. The steady rhythm of her breath. Her soft hand brushing up and down his back in the most careful manner, like she didn’t want to scare the wolf she'd just coaxed into her lap.

"Shut up," Jan muttered into his shoulder. Her arms were tight around him, her grip almost painful. He smelled a lot like antiseptic and fucking bleach. What had they done to him? "Just shut up, Harry."

He should've pushed her away. Should've laughed in her face. Instead, he kept silent and moved his hands to hold her waist.

♡

Jan drove a stupidly nice car for a seventeen-year-old. Leather seats. Heated. His muscles unclench without permission as he sank into the passenger side. His bag in his lap.

“Didn’t have much to say.”

“You were in for six months, not six years.”

“Felt longer.”

She glances at him. Her hands clench the wheel. “Did they…was it bad?”

A pause. He shrugs. “You don’t wanna know, Jan.”

He turns to look at her, smiling faintly and cruelly. “How’s the car, then? You drove it with any boys while I was gone?”

Jan scoffs. “Piss off.”

Just as she hits a bump, Harry lets out a low chuckle and groans, clutching his ribs. “Christ. Watch it. I’m delicate.”

She shoots him a look. “You’re not delicate. You’re dramatic.”

“You've changed so much, babe.”

"Don't fucking ‘babe’ me."

"Alright, sweetheart.”

♡

Jan’s house was empty and smelled like lemons and money. Her parents off on some cruise in Saint Tropez, staff given the week off. Just the two of them in a Kensington townhouse. She ushered him into the lounge and knelt in front of him with a first-aid kit in her hands like she’d been waiting for this moment to tend to an wounded patient.

“I got certified in First Aid last week,” she said brightly, trying too hard to sound normal. Like it's no biggie.

"Do I look like a quiz to you?"

She ignores him, dabbing antiseptic onto the bruises blooming like oil slicks across his ribs. She tries to be gentle but her hands tremble. She couldn't ignore the darker, meaner bruises with deep, sick purple colour wrapping around his ribs. He watches her face go pale.

“Christ, Harry.”

“Don’t take me to a hospital. I mean it.”

“My uncle’s private clinic then. Discreet. They won’t ask questions—”

He kissed her just to shut her up. Just to stop the worry in her voice because it made something in his chest ache worse than the bruises.

Then her hand slapped him before she could think. Not hard. Just instinct. Shock.

"What the hell, Harry?!"

"Thought you’d be used to boys all over you by now. Uni and that. Don’t tell me no one’s snogged you behind a vending machine."

"What’s it to you? It’s not like we’re a thing."

"Right. Not a thing. Just you chauffeuring an ex-con like I’m your wounded puppy."

Jan doesn’t answer. Instead, she grabs the front of his shirt, pushes him back into the chair, and straddles him. Her legs tremble but her eyes don’t. She kisses him clumsily, hungrily. Clambering into his lap like she was a girl with bleeding pride and aching hands, desperate for something real. For someone she realised she's always wanted.

Harry smirked against her mouth. “Which do you prefer, posh girl? One boy or a pack of ‘em?”

Jan pulled back, red-faced. Her voice shook. “I missed you.”

Harry stopped. Everything slowed.

“Where’d you learn to kiss like a rabid animal?”

She looked down, suddenly shy.

“…I watched the girls at uni. Some of them. With boys. Behind the arts building. I don’t know. Shut up.”

He stared at her. Jan. His Jan. And he was in awe. “You’re not like them,” he told her softly. “You don’t throw yourself at blokes. You see things.”

Pause. “You like me?”

She nodded.

Harry’s voice dropped. Warm. Real. “Then, when you kiss someone you like,” he says softly, careful to brush her cheek with the unscabbed part of the back of his hand, “they should be savoured.”

Their lips meet again in a slow, gentle kiss. Harry kisses Jan like he means it. Like she’s the only softness he’s ever known. Jan melted into him. And for the first time in his miserable, fucked-up life, Harry Da Souza felt clean.

And for once, he isn’t the damaged boy with a record and a scarred ribcage. He’s just a boy. Kissing a girl. One who waited. One who saw the truth he never let anyone in to see.

✦•················•✦•··················•✦

"You remember that day? When I got out of juvie?" he asks.

Jan nods. "You kissed me like you meant it," she says.

“Nah, you did,” Harry lightly teased her, earning a chuckle from her. He lets it last for a moment. Fleeting. Fades fast.

"How do we fix things then, Harry?"

He doesn’t answer. Because his solution isn’t a solution at all. It’s keeping her close by any means necessary. It's grabbing onto the version of Jan who used to hold his face like he was something soft.

"You shouldn’t’ve kissed me that day," he says suddenly. “You kissed me like I was worth saving. I believed it. I still fucking believe it when I’m near you.”

Her face softens for the first time in weeks. "Then come back to me, Harry."

He swallows hard. "I never left."

Jan’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in. Letting her arms wrap around him like she did back then. Like she’s still that girl and he’s still that boy, scared and battered. "You matter to me, Harry. You always have." Then she leans in. Slow and unsure, pressing her lips to his like she’s searching for something still buried beneath the wreckage.

And Harry lets her kiss him like it’s still that night. Like they’re seventeen again. Like the city isn’t about to go to war. And maybe, just maybe, their love can survive all this shit.

[contamination-zone]

Fresh drawing tutorial? Maybe even a colour picking tutorial? If you want,,,

I dont' really know how I would do a Fresh tutorial.. so I just drew up a quick process thing and also some design notes for things I keep in mind when drawing fresh, anatomy/body type wise.

I do a LOT of yapping, under cut

To make things look extra fresh to me, I try to keep in mind his body type, or what I see as his body type, when I'm drawing him, as well as shapes that remind me of him. [very triangle man!]

[note: when I draw him, I don't usually use different colors to go from step to step [that's just to show it off easier], and I don't usually Think about it all that much.]

Color wise! I don't really know, so much of it is just Experience, having drawn like this over and over, and trying out things that feel like they work or not. I don't consciously think of my color choices all that much, I'll try my best to explain it though.

[This will be going forward with the assumption you know basic color theory [ie. red looks nice next to green cus they're on opposite sides of the little circle, cyan and blue look nice cus they're next to each other, and that making blue go closer to grey makes it look warm, and making red go closer to grey makes it look cold.]]

V cont of the process thing in the first image.

First I want to know my "base" colors. For Fresh I have him pretty simplified to 5 colors, but this goes for any time I'm colorpicking. I want to know what it looks like devoid of any tints or lighting or similar. [They're kinda ugly since they're so .. grey haha]

After that, I want to think of the tone/environment I want to put him in, or a color that I want to work with.

With that, I'll decide my Line Color; this'll be a dark, usually highly saturated, color that'll decide the tone of the rest of the piece. Using my line color I'll oriantate myself by doing "black" & "white" next, black will be close to the line color, and white will usually be the line color very lightly and unsaturated. [sometimes I'll ignore that, and use a very light cyan. tinting white colder colors can make your whites look cleaner, especially if everything else is warm toned.]

For the other colors in the peice, I'll just be trying to pick things that are like the base colors but tinged by the line color I'd picked, as well as just fitting and looking nice next to it. Sometimes it doesn't need to be tinted towards the line color if there are other ways to make it look cohesive. If a piece I'm working with has a cyan tint, making the pink more red-toned looks nice, because red is complementary next to cyan.

To tint colors that are far away from the line color, you can also de-saturate them. De-saturating pink makes it cooler, and fit more next to blue.

Normally I eye-balled off the color-wheel, but if you're having trouble, multiply and overlays can help in a pinch [picking normal colors and than overlaying with like, blue or green or something]. I wouldn't recommend relying on them though, because they can often lead to your colors being de-saturated, or washed out if over used.

[archangeldyke-all]

can we get dealer!Sevika & hyper-feminine reader plssss 👁️👁️

reader has long ass nails so she sucks at rolling but thankfully since Sevika has a liking to her, she sells reader pre-rolls with a huge discount, and says it’s just a special deal for her only. & maybe one day she invites reader to smoke with her in her car and they just act all cute and high 😭

hhhghhhg... yeah. i'm a sucker for sevika. i'm a sucker for weed. let's fucking goooo

check out the nail inspo for the nails in this fic hehehe

men and minors dni

be outside in 5. the text on your phone reads. you grin, then look back up in the mirror, putting a fresh coat of lipgloss on and fixing your hair.

you suppose you could just buy in bulk. it would save sevika the two or three trips to your house a week. but she doesn't complain, and you've got a pretty good guess as to why.

a horn honks outside your home. you giggle, give your outfit one more look over in the mirror, spray a bit more perfume on, and run out of your house.

sevika's windows are tinted so dark it has to be illegal, and the presence of her car makes the whole block smell like weed. she rolls her window down as you come out of the house, turning down the music she was listening to, to grin and wolf whistle at you.

you giggle, spinning in a little circle in front of the driver's door, giving her a good view of your outfit. she chuckles. "c'mon, get in." she says, nodding to the passenger's side. you quickly run around her car and let yourself in, pressing a quick kiss to sevika's cheek as she pulls off.

she groans, scrubbing where your lipstick has stained her cheek-- a bright, glittery pink print left behind, now being smeared by her hand. she's driving the two of you to the abandonded lot you guys always sit in-- what used to be a strip mall is now cracked pavement and giant, overgrown trees. it's the perfect place to park, in the shade, and remain unbothered all day as you smoke and chat.

sevika's been your dealer since you met her at a party last year. your old dealer, a grimy old man, was... fine. he grew the weed himself and gave you real good prices... but he was also your history teacher in the sixth grade.

you gave up on him when you met sevika, gorgeous, charming, sevika. sevika who had woman sitting all around her at the house party you'd met in, but whose eyes only caught on yours. sevika who'd snatched her blunt that had been being passed around out of the nearest girls hands, and into hers as she rose from her seat and approached you.

sevika who you've been in love with ever since.

you guys have been spending a few evenings or afternoons a week together. sometimes here, in your spot, sometimes in a park, sometimes at sevika's place. sometimes she'll take you along to her deals, driving you to houses all around the city as you help her weigh bud and count cash.

it's fun. a lot of sevika's customers are old friends of yours, people you thought you'd never see again. you get to catch up and chat with them for a bit-- then spend the rest of your night gossiping about them with sevika once they leave.

she's your best friend.

you're just trying to make her make you her girlfriend.

you know she wants you. she doesn't even let you pay for weed anymore. and when she's high, her eyes all pink and her lips curled in a goofy little smile, her gaze wanders. and it catches on your lips, most frequently, but also your tits, your thighs, your stomach-- really, anything she can see.

but she doesn't act on it. because she's a gentleman.

and you don't act on it because... well... sevika's attractive. and she makes good money, and you know that you and sevika don't hang out on weekends because she goes to parties to sell on weekends.

and you wouldn't be surprised if you aren't the only girl riding in her passenger seat.

it's hard to know.

people leave shit in sevika's car all the time when she's doing house calls. they'll sit, chat for a bit, and leave behind their water bottles or hair ties or cigarette butts or press on nails when they get out.

and besides, if you confront sevika, who'll roll your joints for you? certainly not you. not with your nails.

speaking of...

"show me your nails." sevika demands as she pulls into your little spot, under a big willow tree. it's like your own little world here, under a green dome of leaves. sevika rolls all her windows down, and you wiggle your fingers over the middle console.

you told her you were getting a new set last time you smoked together. you asked for color recommendations-- she suggested purple, her favorite color.

so, of course, you got purple.

"fuck, they look sharp." sevika smiles, poking the pointed tip of your nails. you laugh.

"i forgot i got 'em so sharp 'n almost took my eye out this morning putting my lashes on." you admit. sevika giggles, still holding your fingertips in her hands and examining the way they shine in the light.

"so shiny. fuckin' pretty, baby."

you're pretty damn sure you're the only one she calls baby but... you happen to know that back in the day when sevika was scamming rich idiots by selling them baby powder and grass in exchange for hundreds of dollars, she had a lot of women riding along in the passenger seat of her car. and getting fucked in the back seat. which has yet to happen to you.

so you don't know. you just tell yourself you're here for the free weed.

"how's your day been?" you ask, snatching your hands away from sevika. you recline your seat, putting your feet up on the dash as she opens her center console.

"meh. been lookin' forward to this all day." she says. then. "oh! look." she reaches between your seats into her back seat, grabbing a plastic bag and pulling it into the front of the car. "snacks!"

"you're the fuckin' best, sev." you moan as you tear into a bag of chips. she chuckles, and hands you a preroll.

"strawberry flavored wrapping paper, you'll like it." sevika promises. you chew on your chips, take a quick swig of your drink, and then put the joint between the lips. sevika lights the tip for you, her eyes locked on yours.

you tear your eyes away just in time to jerk back before the entire joint goes up in flames, and take a long drag. it's truly delicious, like candy flavored smoke, and you hum, happy. sevika grins.

"good?"

"very." you nod, leaning back against your seat and taking another puff. "oh, i'm sorry." you pout, like you do every time you smoke with her. "i got lipgloss on your joint."

sevika giggles, snatches the joint back, and takes her own puff. "fuck off. i like it. 's like extra flavoring." she shrugs. your stomach twists. she blows smoke out in your face, then takes another puff, her eyes dragging up and down your body.

you guys smoke in silence for a while, passing one joint, then a pack of chips, then another joint, then a bag of candy between one another. and now, the sun's setting and your little world under the willow tree's all golden-greeen, and sevika's rolling another joint.

you sigh, happy, and your eyes trail down sevika's exposed arms-- she's wearing her signature wifepleaser. you speak before you can help yourself. "you look delicious today." you mumble. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"'s that mean you got the munchies or is that your way of flirtin' with me?" she asks. you giggle, then shrug.

"whaddya think?"

"i think you stole my line." she says around her joint, smirking as she lights and takes the first puff of it. her eyes dart down to your outfit-- intentionally skimpy, showing a little more skin than necessary for this pleasant spring day.

she lets you take a puff. you feel like you've melted into the seat. all your inhibitions are lowered. the words come out before you can stop yourself... again. this is what you get for smoking so much fuckin' weed. "'m i the only person in your life?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you. "what?"

"like... the only person you flirt like that with." you clarify, cringing. sevika's confused smile grows wide.

"has that not been obvious this whole time?" she asks. you gulp.

"uh." you whisper. your heart's beating a mile a minute, and you suddenly sit up from your relaxed posture in her passenger's seat. "i don'--"

"yes. am i the only person you let dictate your nail color?"

"yes." you whisper. sevika grins.

"so..." sevika trails off. you gulp.

"y'know... it's really hard for me to roll my weed with my nails like this." you say. sevika takes a drag off the joint nodding along as you speak. "it'd be nice to have a girlfriend who could help with that." you say. she grins, blowing the smoke out the side of her mouth as she leans across the center console to speak, her lips an inch away from yours.

"i coul--"

"okay." you agree, grinning. sevika giggles, then leans forward to kiss you. you stop her with a finger to lips and she pouts. you chuckle, take the joint from her hands, and take a long drag. when you exhale, you speak again. "the nails also make it really hard to keep myself satisfied." you whisper, intentionally shifting in your seat, squeezing your thighs together.

sevika chokes, and she's not the one with the joint. you smile, then pull your finger away from her lips, letting her speak again.

she doesn't. instead. she reaches out, grabs the joint, and flicks it out the window, smirking at you. you bite your lip in anticipation (and trying to hold in your scold about wasting good weed.)

"only if you promise to scratch the shit outta my back with those claws, baby." she whispers, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks. you shiver. "your place or mine?" she asks. you gulp.

"...the backseat? i've kinda been fantasizing about it since the first time we smoked in the car together..."

sevika doesn't answer. she just bursts into laughter, and launches forward to pull you in a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[theemporium]

Mayve something cute wjere butterfly doesn't feel well but tries to hide it from Carlos to not worry him? And poor boy gets all worried.

enjoy some wee pre-marriage carlos and butterfly! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

As it would turn out, hiding how you felt from your boyfriend wasn’t easy when you worked for the same team. 

Usually, it was a blessing. When you started working full-time with Ferrari and travelling the world with them, any hope of having a normal relationship went out the window with your weird hours and constant travelling around the world. 

But then Carlos happened. And it was like the universe worked in some weird ways to give you the most perfect person who would understand your schedule because his was even more hectic. 

Yet, it only made it worse in moments like this. Carlos was a driver, and not just a driver but also for one of the top teams. He couldn’t afford to get sick, not when they were actually having a good season for once. You couldn’t afford to be the one to get him sick even if every part of you wanted to just be held by him, you couldn’t let yourself be selfish. 

When you flew in with him, it was nothing more than a headache you thought would pass with time and a nap. But when you woke up from the nap a few hours later feeling like you had been hit by a bus, you knew exactly how shit you were going to feel for the next few days and you knew you needed to keep him away from you. 

However, Carlos was a smart man. A beautiful, stubborn, smart man who worked out pretty fast that you were ignoring him when you didn’t come to his room on Wednesday night. And again when you went out of your way to rush off in between media duties. And again when you avoided his message to meet in his driver room in between conferences. 

But you couldn’t afford to get him sick. And you couldn’t afford for him to know you were sick, so you trusted only the people you knew wouldn’t tell him (aka just yourself). 

Although, what you failed to think about was the fact that your colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to slip where you were hiding when your boyfriend asked. 

“You’re ignoring me.” 

Your head snapped up at his voice, a small wince leaving your lips from the sudden movement. You sat up a little, though the little corner in the Ferrari hospitality wasn’t doing much when you were sitting on the floor with your laptop balanced on your lap. 

“I’m not,” you responded weakly, only for Carlos to give you a look. 

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, only to pause when he really took you in. The pale expression, the dark circles under your eyes, the red tip of your nose and chapped lips. You barely had a chance to react before he was kneeling in front of you, your face engulfed by his large hands as he frowned. 

“Mi mariposa,” he murmured with a sad look on his face. “Why did you not tell me you were sick?”

“Because you can’t be near me right now,” you said as your fingers wrapped around his wrist, attempting to pull him away from you but it was useless. “Carlos, you can’t afford to get sick. Racing is your life and if you couldn’t do it because I got you sick—”

“Mi amor,” he interrupted, though his voice was soft and soothing as his thumbs traced over the apples of your cheek. “Racing is my life but you are my everything. Let me take care of you.”

“Carlos,” you said with a sigh, but he cracked a smile when he knew your resolve was breaking. 

“C’mon,” he ushered as he reached for your laptop in one hand and held out the other for you to reach for. “I promise not to kiss you but at least rest in my room whilst I have a debrief with the team. I won’t let my girl sit on the floor like this.”

Your cheeks burned but you nodded, burying your face against his bicep when he chuckled a little. 

“Thank you,” you murmured softly. 

“Always, mi mariposa, always.”

.

[pale-opal]

What implications are you taking about? (With the Dark Necrobat and Zero post)?

(Link to the thread in question for context) Alright, so first things first: One thing about Necrobat calling Zero his brother is that there are are several implications that can be drawn from it. He could be speaking in the context that they are both technically mavericks (or that they were mavericks at one point, in Zero's case), or that they both have a connection to the Maverick Virus. There's also the possibility that he's talking about how they both have served under Sigma, only to be abandoned by him in some regard (for Dark Necrobat's, it was when Sigma ditched him for three years, despite being his creator. As for Zero, it would be when Sigma betrayed the Hunters and started his rebellion against the Hunters). However, the conclusion I was referring to is something quite different. As @absolutely-normal-about-x pointed out, Dark Necrobat was created by Sigma, thus making Sigma his father in that context. However, in a way, he also "created" Zero: he took that violent maverick who single-handedly killed an entire unit's worth of Hunters and gave him the opportunity to go beyond both his programming and the virus that was put into him. He gave him the chance to use his fighting prowess for good, rather than senseless bloodshed. The fact is, without Sigma, there is a good chance Zero would not be the person he is when he meets Dark Necrobat. He built him up, shaped him. And doesn't that sound an awful lot like something a father would do?

So to me, it sounds entirely plausible that when Necrobat calls Zero "brother", he means it in a literal sense: he's saying that both he and Zero share a father in Sigma. Now here's the thing about that: that is terrifying. Let's think about it for a second. The concept of a father's sins affecting the generations to come is something that is everywhere in the Mega Man franchise:

Dr. Light and Dr. Wily can't seem to resolve their differences (partially because Light doesn't know how to cut the latter out of his life, and partially because Wily is a petty old man who has apparently decided to hold animosity against Light until the day he dies), and now Rock is doomed to fight Wily's robots until he either dies or gives up - and the case of the latter, he ends up becoming Quint.

Bass was built so that Wily could show up Light by making a better Super Fighting Robot, while also serving the function of taking out Mega Man. But he can't "be the strongest" or "destroy Mega Man", simply because Rock is, and likely always will be, better than him in some aspect that allows him to keep on beating Bass. Which means Bass is set to spend his life chasing an unattainable goal.

And speaking of Wily having jacked up kids, let's circle back to Zero: the guy was built to kill X as soon as he climbed out the cradle. But Wily made Zero too violent to him to handle, and was forced to seal him up. So Zero ends up missing out on an entire century. And you know how the Maverick Virus started with Wily putting it into him? It doesn't go away. No matter how many mavericks are taken out, no matter how many attempts are made at eradicating the virus, it just keeps coming back. Eventually, it gets to the point where Zero seals himself up so that his body can be studied in the hopes of some sort of cure being found. But if there's anything the Mega Man Zero series has taught us, it's that even that wasn't enough - Zero's sacrifice starts the domino effect that leads to the Elf Wars and the rest of that series. And the only way for him to fix everything is for him to die alongside Dr. Weil of all people.

But wouldn't you know it, that's not enough either! The world goes through more suffering in the ZX series once biometals come on the scene. And that can be traced back to the existence of reploids, which - oh, well would you look at that! We've come right back to Light and Wily!

And going back to the Zero series for a second, we've got Omega and Weil. Good grief. You've got the false messiah and the false god he props up. The tool and the man who wields it. Not exactly the healthiest dynamics to draw from, to say the least.

Not even alternate timelines are safe from this concept. The Navi Projects in Mega Man Battle Network had consequences for everybody involved and then some. And Mega Man Legends doesn't escape this, either: everything changes forever for Volnutt after he gets tangled up with the Elysians.

But, just to make sure we don't stray too far: this applies to Dark Necrobat and Sigma, as well. Sigma, the start of almost every major Maverick War in the series. And Dark Necrobat, the son who became a maverick despite being abandoned. The apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree.

Long story short, to say that someone is somebody else's "father" in the Mega Man franchise doesn't simply mean "that's the source of half their genes" or "the progenitor". No, it means "This is the source of everything about this person, both good and - especially, even - bad." But then that begs the question. Does Dark Necrobat have a point when he implies that Sigma is Zero's father? Or does Zero have a chance of defying the precedent set and rising above all of this? If the fact that Sigma remains a thorn in the Hunters' side for almost every X game ("Command Mission" being the exception) is anything to go off of, then the answer is that Zero's well past the point of screwed. But if we throw X5's bad ending in...

...it becomes even more clear.

[morningstargirl666]

What are the small character head canons you have? I love the life you breathe into TBBW and I think alot of that comes from both your incredible skill at character writing, and just writing in general, but also the small notes of mundanity you add. I just adore it!

Omg there are so many. How much time do you have? Hehehe

[rubs hands together]

What the hell, let's do it. In fact, I'll break it down by characters:

[long ass character head canons under the cut]

Klaus: Sleeps with a knife under his pillow. In fact, me and @stars-and-darkness have had many conversations about the various knives he keeps on his person, being the paranoid bastard he is. Also just as control freak-coded as Caroline. Breaks his fingers as a nervous tick, left over from his time under the Curse of the Five and the whoppingly high pain tolerance he has, thanks to his werewolf side. Doesn't have a favourite blood type because he's a whore---unless the blood of his enemies counts.

Caroline: Worries her lip when anxious, or pushes her hair behind her ear, because she's used to it down but it's not straight like Elena's, and often gets in her eyes. Probably spent an entire week working out the best way to brew blood and coffee together. Canonically eats a lot to curve the worst of the bloodlust cravings and loves good food, regardless of the effect it has on her waist. Has all her college options colour coded and alphebetised---probably her pro and con list for dating Klaus too. Favourite blood type is B+

Sam: Pain tolerance is higher than Nik's, and that's no easy feat, mostly due to learning to turn so young (but also because werewolves have an insane tolerance to pain, thanks to their bodies deciding to rewrite their very cells for funsies once every month). Acts all innocent and angelic, when in reality, he's just as feral as the rest of them. Runs his hand through his hair when he's stressed or tired---it's a complete mess most of the time, and Kiera has long since given up trying to tame the unruly bird's nest. Is in love with an artist and brother to another, but knows fuck all about art. Has a passion for music though, and can play the guitar. Favourite blood type is O-.

Kol: Clumsy as fuck. Sleeps like the dead. Snores like a freight train. Will sleep with anything that has two legs; has probably been to an orgy or two. Or five (honestly, he's lost count). Also has a sense of wanderlust that exceeds that of his siblings---he's curious, and an explorer, both of magic and the world. Loves fire. Loves gasoline even more. Laughs to hide real pain. Favourite blood type is AB- (the rarest of them all).

Rebekah: Because she still dreams of finding the love of her life, and mourns the motherhood she could have had, you'd think Rebekah would be the stereotype of a fragile woman who needs a man to save her. In reality, her brothers are scared to spar with her because she's probably taken their eye out more than once, and fights dirtier than them all combined, in order to get the upper hand on boys much older and stronger than her. Her temper rivals that of Klaus, she's a fitful sleeper who rolls around like a starfish and is prone to kicking anyone near, and a completely spoiled princess. Because as well as being scared of her, her brothers also can't say no to her. Comes with the youngest sibling territory. Of the same thread, can not cook to save her life. Would probably burn water. Haven't really thought about her preferred blood type yet, but probably A+? Because her and Caroline are the same in many aspects, just different flavours.

Kiera: Badass motherfucker. Origin of the meme, call an ambulance but not for me. Is as infamous as The Originals in supernatural circles, mostly because she was the one the Originals called if they wanted someone dead. Very much a sireling of Klaus' bloodline. Also just a babygirl tho. Loves pretty, sparkly things (yess I'm keeping with the crow motif sue me), and once got Sam a dog toy as gag gift for christmas. It lives dog-eared and religiously chewed every full moon on their sofa. Loves abstract art, prefers painting to sketching unlike Klaus who's the opposite, and ain't too shabby at pottery and sculpture either. Would have had a fling with Rebekah if the siblings didn't have a rule about sleeping with each other's ex's after the whole Mary Porter incident. Can drink most men under the table. Constantly 100% done with the Mikaelsons and their bullshit, and would not feel out of place on an episode of The Office. Doesn't have a preferred blood type, but does like her blood warm rather than cold.

Elijah: Diagnosed with eldest daughter syndrome because big bro was too busy seeking mummy and daddy's approval to actually look after the younger kids, and, well---someone had to stop Kol face-planting into the fire because he liked the flames so much and was trying to catch them. Of this same thread, Elijah loves to cook. You'll probably find him in the kitchen, humming away chopping vegetables while some cooking show plays in the background. Probably accidentally invented pasta or some shit. Wars have raged for his baked goods, as well as lead to a few daggering incidents. Also a complete snob. In fact, snobby enough to wear $9000 suits on the daily and steals Rebekah's fashion catologues to critique the new trends. Secretly here for all the goss, but would die before he admitted it. Keeps himself respectable and polished ALL the time, adjusting his cufflinks or fixing his tie as nervous ticks because he 'accidentally' chomped a little too hard on his first love and may have got covered in her blood one time. After he very horribly killed and ate her. Very traumatic for him, you understand. ANYWAY---

Lycaon: Pretends to be the only fucking normal person in this family. He's not. He's so dramatic he chased Mikael across the seven corners of the earth---across literal oceans---accidentally starting a blood feud and consequential war between species all because he lost the kids in the custody battle. He likes to make wood carvings to keep his hands busy and mind occupied (no doubt where Klaus gets his creative streak), as well as to starve off the trauma of watching your entire pack get murdered in front of you. Also a health junkie and helicopter mom, tries not to drink in front of the kids but is going to down a whole bottle by the end of the night. Probably should be on some serious anxiety meds because this is his third breakdown of the week and he's starting to feel murderous again. There is nothing normal about this man.

Stefan: An absolute car nerd! Would be a mechanic in another life, often found smelling of engine oil with smudges on his face and fingers. Secretly fangirled over Klaus' 1920s bentley but never said it to his face out of spite. Would cry over killing a fly. Likes to brood and be dramatic, which is probably why Klaus liked him so much. Also has a penchant of brutally murdering people when he goes on a bender, which you know, probably endeared him to Klaus even more. Likes all the O blood types because they're common, and he's too busy tearing necks to notice and savour the taste anyways, despite Klaus and Rebekah's efforts to teach him (he's unteachable, they tried).

[sleepy-gamer-mom]

I'm a sucker for soft Luci. I mean, I love his dom and sadistic side, this man can have me whenever he wants, how he wants and for how long, but there is something in his soft side, side he only shows to his lover.

When Lucifer enters your shared bedroom he actually expects you to be asleep on your bed, curled near your newborn baby. The extra pillows are placed behind the kid to prevent them from falling off the bed (we all know just how large Lucifer's bed is but still!) Lucifer sees the dark circles under your eyes and can't help but admire your strength: he knows that even though you are excused from RAD after giving birth you still have to care about your kid and his brothers. They started to behave a little better since the kid was born but nevertheless. 

Changing his clothes and placing himself on your other side he doesn't fail to notice how you relax into his embrace and how your body naturally fits into his. He remembers the day he learned about your pregnancy: you had the whole surprise planned just to accidentally leave your pregnancy test in the bathroom and fall asleep. 

He also remembers the day when Satan with the most forlorn face he'd ever seen told him that after researching every book he could find about human pregnancy from a demon he knew your chances of surviving the childbirth are incredibly low. Giving birth to a demon child was never easy: Diavolo's mother died giving birth to him and she obviously had the best medicine available. Lucifer felt like throwing up that day, but he knew you: he knew how strong and how stubborn you were, you wouldn't leave him, not like this. 

And you didn't. The day your child decided to be born you almost died. But you had Luke's blessings, you had Simeon's and Solomon's magic on your side. But most of all you had so much love in you, love you always gave to him, his brothers, everyone around you and now you needed to give it to your child. So you couldn't just give up and die. 

Lucifer places his hand around you, resting his palm on his child. This is the moment he finally can relax after a tiresome day. He knows this peace is short-lived because soon the baby will wake up from hunger or dirty diaper or even a ruckus outside the room. And when the tiny hand wraps around his finger he realizes that this is the happiness he never knew he would find and never thought he'd deserve.

[cursecuelebre]

The Anglo-Saxon Rune poem.

Now this isn’t the only rune poem in existence there is Norwegian and Icelandic rune poems. Now I prefer Anglo-Saxon and believe it to be more accurate but there’s nothing wrong with reading the Norwegian or Icelandic and choosing it. But these said poems won’t have all the runes associated with the poems even some extra Runes or less than of the traditional Aetts. But right now I’m focusing on a the Elder Futhark which is all included in the Anglo-Saxon poem at times different names and translations.

This poem is also Galdr and speaking the poems you’re essentially invoking and evoking them. Runes are very powerful letters and magical symbols that must be treated with high respect. Some can be dangerous to use like ᚦ. It’s also used for anyone who wants to study and learn the runes in depth, reading the poems can gather your own interpretation of them. Also the Anglo -Saxon includes a few extra runes. I recommend if you were to use the actual Anglo Saxon Runes look and study the runes because yes it is describing the same rune some don’t look like the Elder Futhark, for instance Ansuz (Elder Futhark) and Aesc (Anglo Saxon) are the same rune but different name or meanings. Anglo Saxons did recreate the Ansuz rune but just putting it out there just because I'm putting the Elder Futhark runes doesn't equal to what that Anglo Saxons used.

ᚠ᛫ Feoh or Fehu - Cattle are compensation for everyone though each man shall greatly share his if he will be awarded honors from his Lord.

ᚢ ᛫ Ur or Uruz - Aurochs is brave and has horns above, this very firece animal fights with its horns, a great wanderer of the moors, it is a proud creature.

ᚦ ᛫ Thorn or Thuriaz - Thorn/Hawthorn is exceedingly sharp for every servant seizing it is evil, and it is extremely harsh to each man who rests among it.

ᚨ᛫ Os or Ansuz - The God is the creator of all language, wisdom's foundation and consolation of sages and everyman's joy and trust.

ᚱ ᛫ Rάd or Raidho - The Ride up to everyman's hall is comfortable and very fast for he who sits high on a mighty horse over the miles.

ᚲ ᛫ Cen or Kenaz - Torch/Pine is a tree known by all for its flame, shining and brilliant it often burns where people relax within.

ᚷ ᛫ Gyfu or Gebo - A Gift from other it is an honor and praise, a help and of worth and for sojourners everywhere a benefit and presence that is otherwise missing.

ᚹ ᛫ Wynn or Wunjo - A Joy possesses him who knows little want, illnesses, sorrows, and himself has prosperity and happiness and also a sufficient dwelling.

ᚺ ᛫ Hagal or Hagalaz - Hail is the whitest of seeds it's circling comes from the lofty sky, it tosses in the wind's shower, it then becomes water after words.

ᚾ ᛫ Nied or Nauthiz - Need is oppressive on the heart although it often befalls this affliction of men to help and to heal somewhat, if it is heard beforehand.

ᛁ ᛫ Is or Isa-Ice is extremely cold, very slippery, it glistens clear, like precious gems, a floor wrought by frost, fair thing seen.

ᛃ ᛫ Gear or Jera - Year is mankind's joy, when the God bequeaths, ruler of the sacred sky, the earth offers splendid crops for the wellborn and poor.

ᛇ ᛫ Éoh or Eihwaz - Yew is a rough tree on the outside, hard and secured in the earth, keeper of the fires, sustained by deep roots, it is a pleasure to have one one's land.

ᛈ ᛫ Peorth or Pertho - Gaming is always sport and laughter where boastful, they sit to make war in the banquet hall cheerfully together.

ᛉ ᛫ Eolk or Algiz - Elk-sledge is native to the marsh, it grows in the water, it can wound cruelly, the blood of any man burns who in anyway seizes it.

ᛋ ᛫ Sigel or Sowelio - The Sun for sailors is always hoped for when they depart over the fishes' bath, until their ship carries them to land.

ᛏ ᛫ Tir or Tiewaz - The North Star is one signal, it holds faith well with nobles, it is always on track, throughout night's darkness it never deceives.

ᛒ ᛫ Beroc or Berkana - Birch is without fruit it bears even so, it bears shoots instead of fruit, its branches are beautiful, high in the treetops decorated attractively, laden with foliage, lofty passage.

ᛖ ᛫ Eh or Ehwaz - Horse is for lords the joy of the aristocracy, horse hooves boastful, where around the hero, prosperous in respect to horses, it exchanges discourse, and its restlessness is ever to help.

ᛗ ᛫ Mann or Mannaz - Person with joy is beloved of his kin, even though each one depart away for moreover the lord wills his fate, the destitute flesh be delivered to the earth.

ᛚ ᛫ Lagu or Laguz - Water seems of endless length to people, if they must venture on unstable ships, and the sea waves terrify them exceedingly, and the ship does not heed its reins.

ᛜ ᛫ Ing or Ingwaz - Lord Ing was first seen among the east Danes it is said, until he later went back over the sea, his chariot following after, thus the brave men named that hero.

ᛞ ᛫ Daeg or Dagaz - Day is the god's ambassador beloved of men, the great god's light, Mirth and also hope, prosperous and poor, all enjoying it.

ᛟ ᛫ Ethel or Othila - Home is very dear to all people if there they have the opportunity to for justice and honesty while enjoying prosperity in the dwelling most often.

-------------------------------------------------

Additional runes to the Elder Futhark set

Ac - Oak is on Earth for the children of men, meat-animal's fodder it travels often over the gannet's bath, the sea tests whether the oak possesses noble truth. (The rune looks like F but the small arm on top is hooked like a check mark or small v and the bottom one is slanted like Ansuz.)

Aesc - Ash Tree, is lofty, glorified by men stiff in its trunk, it holds its position exactly, although it fights against many men. (I explained at top, this rune looks exactly like the Elder Futhark Ansuz - ᚨ)

Yr - Bow is for noble men and warriors everywhere joy and a more of distinction upon a fair horse, steadfast on its course , a part of the war gear. (This Rune is ᚢ but with a small line in between the legs)

Ior - Beaver is a river fish, and although he resides there, he forages there on land he had a fair dwelling, water surrounding that place he joy fully holds dear. (This rune is a straight line vertically with a X in the middle of the line)

Ear - The Ground is loathsome to all men, yet certainly the body will e set upon there, the corpse grows old, the soil accepts its pale bed-fellow, it leaves fall, pleasure depart, men cease to be. (This rune looks like ᛏ but the two small arms are hooked that look like small Vs or check marks)

And that’s it! I do recommend reading other translations and the other rune poem, at times different translations can be worded much better and help to understand a lot better. If you don’t really like the rune poem on this blog there’s nothing wrong either checking out Norwegian or Icelandic rune poems and to see if it will help you better!

[cr3selia]

(This was in my notes app from like a month ago, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors it was too bothersome to beta this. Also, the writing may be weird or plain at some parts I don't know how to write)

Sunmary :

Joel doesn't know who he is, Who he used to be, he just wants to remember, Because those bits of memories from his past lives are haunting him and it's painful.

-Set in Limited life—Wild life

-Can be read as platonic though it leans a bit more towards romantic

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

" We have 24 hours to live, dieing means -1 hours and killing means +30 minutes." Joel had heard grian say during the circle.

Wandering around the dark oak forests, Joel takes bits of sugarcane for when he turns red life, he doesn't know why perhaps an instinct of some sort.

He saw a mansion just a bit away from where he stood, The ocean waves crashed on his left, Perhaps he should fish up some food.

The brown haired man rests against the sand, his legs play with the waters as he throws his fishing rod in hopes for cod.

"Joelll!!" Joel reels a fish in just as he heard the canary at a distance, He swam like a cod as he came towards joel with bamboo in his hands.

"What'cha doing?" Jimmy reaches the shore and immediately starts with annoying joel, Who had been peacefully fishing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[Solidaritygaming Tried to swim in lava ]

[ Smallishbeans tried to swim in lava ]

Two death messages pop up simultaneously as the server pauses, Everyone had been at spaw discussing team plans when the duo had decided to dig straight down

When they respawned again, they were surrounded by familiar faces

Smajor100> What were you two trying to accomplish?

The duo don't know either.

──

"That didn't go as planned did it?" Jimmy grinned sheepishly at the back as he followed joel, Joel sighed.

"We were being idiots jimmy.." Despite his words, joel had a smile on his face as they walked towards the ocean, planning to make their base there.

When they reach the said place, they find it already preoccupied by others, Jimmy audibly groaned at their presence they had been planning to make a cool submarine in the ocean for their 'Bad boy' Base.

"We were planning on making our base here, Right joel?" Jimmy turned to look at the shorter man, Only to see the latter zoned out staring at a masked man in the distance.

──

Joel stared at the man riding the boat alongside a cow, He felt familiar—Ofcourse he did, everyone was familiar.

Joel couldn't help but stare, The mask on his face covered his mouth leaving only a pair of heterochromia eyes to veiw, something about them felt familiar.

Something about them felt like home.

Before joel knew it, he had taken out a bow he had fished up earlier.

[Smallishbeans made an achievement (Take aim) ]

—

The cow that etho had carefully gathered sat besides him in a boat, his group was bickering with one of the 'Bad boys' as they called themselves.

but that wasn't his main focus, Etho's eyes drifted towards a shorter man standing nearby jimmy, Brown hair and dazzling lime green eyes under his fringe locked with etho's own eyes.

Joel was it?

Etho couldn't tear his eyes away from the other, Joel's eyes seemed different then it did when they were in the spaw circle, more circular, More innocent. More curious.

More Familiar.

Before etho knew it, A piece of raw beef had made its way into his inventory, in the chat was an achievement.

[ Smallishbeans made an achievement (Take aim) ]

—

Grian stood at a corner, Snickering as he continued to grow out the bread bridge as they called it, the mansion had been long burnt away, leaving only bits of what was left.

" This is by far one of the ugliest things i've made." Grian Commented, joel couldn't help but nod along with the sentence.

"Blummin hell, it looks so bad.." Joel had to cover his eyes because it was painful to look at it, Bread bridge was meant to be a food source not an eye candy..

Grian couldn't help but laugh a bit, "You haven't changed at all joel. "

joel blinked, Then again as he stared at grian for a bit, the macaw hybrid continued to build away without a care.

had he been hearing things?

Now that grian mentioned it, Him and the macaw teaming up seemed familiar in its own way, not like how it did with etho

grian reminded him of bloodlust and violence, of alliances he never broke, of alliances he never had.

of betrayal.

—

" You haven't changed at all joel. "

Grian clenched his teeth shut, Hoping that the brown haired man hadn't noticed what he had said, perhaps even taking it as a hallucination.

Why had he suddenly wanted to say something like that so out of the blue?!

Grian doesn't know either, at first a weird guilty feeling had pierced him, after that he wanted to talk to joel about everything that had happened to him.

It just felt right, To the macaw hybrid.

──

making everyone go against Green lives would be joel's worst mistake, The whole server was currently on his heels as he ran through rivers of waters, had he mastered the art of running away?

probably not.

He was getting trapped left and right, water buckets landed everywhere as the clockers and mean gills chased after him, He did not want to look back right now.

A fishing rod attaches to joel, the lime green eyed man tried to free himself, when he looked back to see the holder, familair Grey and red eyes greeted him, Along with silver hair that danced to the wind.

Joel fell down just as he saw the man, Landing a water bucket as the others landed on the same water as well, Continuing to chase him.

Etho had him cornered.

but he didn't feel the need to be scared.

[ Smallishbeans was slain by ethoslab ]

✦

joel rested under a tree, he was a red life, why should he be resting under a tree at this point ingame?

Out of the corner of his lime eyes, joel counts how many hours he has.

only 1 hour.

He has one hour left and the whole server is red, He could die right now, Grian was potentially setting up more traps while he was being useless and being an eye candy for the newly blood-lusted martyn.

Jimmy was gone, He had fallen from the same bridge they had all built together, maybe he and grian would die on the same place too.

He could go and hunt for the others but he doesn't want to.

He doesn't want to.

──

"Joel you're going down." A familiar voice rings as joel turned around to face the man in question, Etho.

Taking out his sword, Etho hits joel once, Coming into a one-on-one fight was reckless, even for etho

Who had fought the warden.

Fought the warden..?

When did he do that?

Joel's heart depletes down to five, Etho has a confused look on his face as to why his opponent won't defend himself.

"You can kill me."

──

"You can kill me."

Etho pauses, Had he heard that right? He turns to face the lime eyed man, Hoping to see mockery or even defeat.

But he sees a soft smile on his face, Lime green eyes shining under the moon with a soft glow, He wasn't lying.

Etho had originally planned to be a distraction for bdubs to get extra 30 minutes, But what in the world was this?

"What do you mean?"

"You can kill me. I don't mind."Joel repeats the same level of care and love in his voice, Etho's hand shivers, With guilt.

"Why would you say that? we don't even know eachother properly?"

" Your favourite flowers are Azalea aren't they? "

"..."

" You were the only reason I had been living, if you wish to kill me then so be it."

Etho's eyes widen, what kind of fool was this man? or perhaps the bread bridge had a trap and hr was going to die soon- That must be it.

"it's okay, You can kill me boat boy, I don't mind."

[kenta-torture]

happy kenta birthYAY i wrote a fic or whatever

an introspective on kenta mikoshibas and his issue with birthdays. tldr kenta birthday fic where the screen of his computers are the closest hes getting to a candle light tonight. 1k words

a/n. i jumped ahead to survive pt2 really quickly for this. gritting teeth. baby kenta. head in my hands. kenta...

also i bullshitted a lot of this. bcs i dunno how prison birthdays work. and other things. where is his mom. i also wrote this in a day listening to stankonia instead of working on any art. idk if any of this made sense because i revised this at 4 am. lmk if u need clarification ig.

If anyone had asked, Kenta would have said that the only reason he knows his own birthday is because he checked his files a few years back since no one told him beforehand. He’d be lying out of his own ass, obviously. It wasn't him who looked into his files and kept his birthday on the calendar first, it was the director. Obviously. 

It wasn't a big celebration or anything the first time around. Or the second. The third was missed by a month or so, really ruining his plans (which were rather ambitious in retrospect, but to be expected of a little boy who didn't have it coming. Of a little boy who was just starting to get used to this, having nice things and such). A small cake, the type for two since it both had to be snuck past the others and finished soon after. Can’t let the other kids know that the director has a favorite, lest they find even more reasons to ostrichsized him.

It's foreign to think of now, and not a thought he likes to linger on even if his brain makes him do otherwise. Why would the man who ratted him out be so kind? Why would he have gone through the effort to celebrate his birthday, to make his existence and geniusness seem like something worth fostering, just to snuff it out by the time he started to believe it himself? Surely it was to prepare for his betrayal, to lower the guard he never had until then. To shoot him in the back of the head like a dog that knew no better.

He hates to admit that a part of him misses it. That a part of him got pavloved into enjoying the taste of cheap cake around this time of year. He can do without it, he has spent a few years without a physical cake of any kind, but it's the only part of those celebrations that he lets linger. A cheap and overly sweet taste in his mouth that sticks like acid.

Which is why this year he has treated himself to another can of the same energy drink he has every single day anyways. Which does absolutely nothing to wash out the memories, but it is aiding him to stay up just a little longer. Even if he knows it’ll fuck him over in the morning.

Staying up late isn't anything new though, he ignores the prison’s early ass bedtime every single day. Feigning sleep so often he wonders if the guards will notice the difference if he just dies in his bed at some point. But tonight it has a different connotation, a different air to it, pushing past his own personal alarm to rest as he glances back at the little numbers near the bottom of his screen.

4:37 AM

2025/3/20

Five minutes left. Not that anyone but him is counting. Just for some little tradition he likes to hold to himself even if no one else is to be there with him for it. A little corny with no point to it, something he only started doing after getting admitted back to this place, with the chance to check his files for himself. Mostly just to see if that director had been lying to him about other things too. He wasn’t, and he simply hadn't told Kenta when exactly he was born. Can't let a little kid stay up too late when there is all of tomorrow to celebrate him and his greatness or whatever. 

But Kenta isn't a little kid anymore, not in his eyes at least. And at this very moment, there is no one to keep him in check and make sure he doesn't worsen the dark circles under his eyes. Lucky him. 

All alone on the early morning of his birthday. Again. Well, technically a lie. Shion is still out at this time of day, and Ryoga is dead asleep in his own bed. And while Kenta could totally go bug him until he wakes up, that seems like a type of attention begging that's far too needy and pathetic for the Kenta Mikoshiba to be doing. On his birthday no less.

So, he opts to do this alone. Like before. No one else knows about this part but him anyways.

4:39 AM

Sometimes he wonders how it would have felt for her, being awake at this time of night and having to deal with it all, to deal with him. If he were musing this out loud, he might've said something snarky about how he's always been a pain and annoyance, even before birth.

There is no one to say that to in this dead air but himself.

4:42 AM

He keeps his eyes on the clock until it finally changes. Staring at the digits until they’re burned into his retinas. He feels nothing in particular other than his shoulders relaxing, having been tense until then for no reason. He does imagine, for a moment, confetti. Falling from the screen as if to celebrate him making it through another year, but he blinks away that thought. Fuck, he’s tired. Seeing things and shit, isn't that funny? As if now would be the time to celebrate.

If he were born two minutes later, maybe that would’ve been something notable, something lucky, something to celebrate this late into the night. An angel number or whatever, not that he really cares to find meaning in a number that isn't in his control. (he already thinks more than enough about the numbers that are his fault, which he’s been pretending to ignore for a few days now. Under the guise that it's his birthday week, he should be able to do whatever he wants without a care. But he is far too aware that he’s just pushing it back, all because he’s scared to face the fact that his geniusness might not have been enough this time around.)

Whatever. He presses down on the power button, and pretends to snuff out the lights, his finger jabbing into it for a few moments more than needed. He watches the screens flicker out with a slight lag between all the monitors, one by one. Like candlelight. 

(Happy Birthday, he thinks to himself. Letting the weight of the night take him back to bed and lie down under it. Another birthday alone, even if he knows it's a lie. Because as much as he hates to admit, he knows that in the morning a cake will be waiting for him. He saw the receipt on Yuto’s card, only because he was curious. Dumbass.)