#BUT STILL I THINK LIKE I GUESS MY ART AS A WHOLE GOT BETTER BUT THE WAY DIMPLE IS THE MOST NOTABLE GROW UP IGJXFDJSIXJ

[dayse2luas]

some stuff from last year

[emile-hides]

They were not kidding, you really can go anywhere anytime in this game huh

[emeryleewho]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[epiicaricacy-arts]

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

[eustasskidagenda]

Hello and I hope you’re doing great. Can you do some headcanons for Kidd, Doflamingo, Law, Sanji and Zoro having their nails painted by their s/o ? Like if they would accept or not and how they would act. I hope my request is okay and comprehensible, English isn’t my first language :) Thx!!

☆Kid, Doflamingo, Law, Sanji & Zoro having their nails painted by their s/o 

Hello anon! Don't worry, it was perfectly understandable and English isn't my first language as well, so everything is fine ♡ Tysm for your request, it was a fun one! Hope it will match your expectations ☆

CW : g/n reader, funny, fluff, kid is an idiot but I love him, really but really slight n/sfw for Doflamingo, a bit of n/sfw at the end for Kid, word "blood" used for Kid, cursing on Kid and Zoro part, French used on Sanji part because I love when Sanji talks in French ugh. 

WC : around 1,890

Kid

Have you seen him? Always with a manicure on top.  

Kid is a punk, of course he likes having his nails all done, especially in a beautiful red color, like the blood of his enemies. But he is no longer capable of doing his own nails after losing his arm. He frequently asks Killer, but this time you must handle this daunting task. So good luck.

Beware, Kid is a freak with his nails. He has all the necessary tools for a flawless manicure. So first thing first, you have to use a cuticle pusher. Go ahead, he's closely watching. Do not dare mess with his nails, being a punk is a whole lifestyle and his nails and make-up have to be perfect, otherwise he's pissed off for the entire day. 

You must also use the nail file. He will be furious if some nails are not cut well or are not the same length. His hand needs to be perfect for doing some angry punk stuff.

"Oh, Y/N, what the fuck are you doing? Don't put the color first; use the base. Don't you know nothing about nail art?"

Heavy sighs. His feet stomped. Sigh again. He just can't stay still for more than 5 minutes straight. 

He would probably snarl at you and closely watch what you're doing with his hand. Don't dare put polish on his fingers, or you'll have to clean it. 

Fidgeting the whole damn time, he's becoming increasingly annoyed. He's so impatient. Would  end up laying on the table, head against the wood, with his hand on yours, sighing and growling stuff like "you're really shit at this" and "hmpf, y/n, don't use multiple layers, it makes some ugly relief, do I really have to teach you everything?". 

Yes, he's a beauty influencer with his nails and makeup. 

"I could do better, even with my prosthesis hand."

He stares at you impatiently all the time.

He's feeling low-key annoyed because he used to do his nails himself, but now he has to depend on Killer or you. 

"Ugh, y/n, use the top coat. Don't you know nothing about nail art?"

The angry red tulip would probably say, 'ugh, you and Killer are so slow' and 'don't let the bottle open, nail polish is expensive'. 

He is cheeky because he stole all of his make-up and manicure supplies. 

Once everything is done, he would take a close look at your work and eventually growl, 'Yeah, I guess it will work'. 

In fact, he's thanking you. In return, he offers a flawless manicure for you, and he excels at it even with just one hand. He deserves praise because his work is mesmerizing, right? Right? RIGHT?

NSFW bonus: And later in the bedroom, I guess Kid would be the kind of guy to wrap his manicured hand around your neck, like "what a beautiful collar you got there" while he slides his cock in and out of you.

Doflamingo

As soon as he heard your request, he gave an evil smile. You want to paint his nails? Fine, go ahead. But, do you really believe that someone as manipulative as him would say yes without having an idea in mind? You fool.

He would act all innocent, just nodding and letting you grab all your stuff. 

Either paint his nails pink or leave them alone. 

Watching your small hand in his would be a delight for him. He thinks it makes you adorable. 

You're feeling nervous because he's closely watching you through his glasses. Even more when his grin pops out again. "So, if you overflow, you know I'll have to punish you?" He smirks, staying still as you frown. Oh, you're not really afraid. Doflamingo punishments are... something, to be honest. But you want to do his nails perfectly, so now you're even more focused.

Doflamingo would take note of how often you frown and concentrate on his nails. Your work is truly perfect. The pink matches his coat perfectly. But he's a bit angry because he intends to have fun with you. 

He would use his devil fruit in a sneaky way to make you fail. Something really small, but enough to make your finger slip and miss the spot. 

"Y/N, you were so close, it's a shame. My nails are now completely ruined. Do you want me to look foolish in front of others? I have to teach you some manners... you little brat..."

Let's assume that you are okay with being punished more frequently.

Law

"Y/N-ya, one day, I'll study your brain" 

A lot of mumbles. Why do you feel the need to paint his nails? He is too busy and stressed to dedicate time to this. He is always planning mischief or taking care of his patients. Why would he sit and stay still while you're painting his poor nails? Leave him alone.

Wet puppy eyes would make him sigh heavily. "Fine."

Of course, black polish. 

He may be annoyed, but he's also a teaser, so he might try to cause you trouble just to see you shake and miss your mark. 

He would secretly enjoy this intimate moment with you. The warmth of your hand, your satisfied smile, and how focused you are on your task. You’re just so beautiful and attractive.

"What's top coat? You forgot it in the bedroom? Room, shambles. Here's the topcoat."

He would try to make the moment last longer, like slightly moving so you have to stop from time to time and wait for him to stay still again.

After it's finished, he would pay close attention. "Nice job." 

Fortunately, he's intelligent enough to wait until the polish is completely dry before touching it. To be honest, he is pleased with the outcome. The black color matches his tattoo, and it's a small present from you. When he's alone and working late, he would look lovingly at his nails, thinking about you. He has a soft spot, but he hates showing it in front of you. He hates showing his weakness. Even if he trusts you, a part of him is traumatized and doesn't want to show that he's just a normal human with failures and weaknesses. 

Low-key trying to keep his manicure as long as possible, trying to use his hands less often than usual, refusing to cook, etc., and he's kind of sad when it starts to flake.

Zoro 

Poor marimo is totally confused. Like… painting his nails? What does it mean? His nails are too narrow to be painted on. Does his body resemble a canvas? Are you actually talking about a manicure? Oh. Anyway… Why him? Come on, he's really annoyed.

He's a serious guy, so why does he have his nails painted? "Do you really hate me so much to ask such a stupid thing?"

"Lemme sleep, y/n, I don't have time for your shit. Luffy would love this shitty idea, just ask him."

A lot of mumbles. He finds it absurd. Do swordsmen use painted nails to fight? Of course not. And Sanji would laugh at him. Ugh, no way. But well, you know Zoro, he would end up accepting because he wants to make you happy. 

Totally dead serious and annoyed as you're locked in your room. 

"What, you want to paint a cactus? Ugh, go ahead, I'm already way too involved in this mess."

As you begin to paint his nails, there will be a lot of mumbling. 

But at least he's totally still and just watching with a neutral face, except when there's a slight blush on his cheeks. He can't handle how adorable you are when you're focused. But he can't handle how stupid he looks with some random cactus on his nails? As a swordsman, he's not as sophisticated as the cook with twirly eyebrows. 

"Have you done?" All the cinq minutes with an annoyed tone. 

It’s obvious that he would end up sleeping. He's tired and it's taking a lot of time. After finishing his nails, you have to wake him up. After a lot of yawns, he would look at his nails, sigh, and then shrug. "Happy now?" 

And as you nod with a cute smile on his face, he gets all embarrassed again. 

You'll have to make it later since he has given you a big favor and now you have to return it. 

He would be very serious in front of the crew. But mad if the goddamn cook starts to make fun of him. "At least, I'm not a single" 

Poor Sanji.

Zoro values hard work and practice. He would notice that you took a lot of time to draw all the cactuses. Until the drawing fades, he will keep the nails.

Sanji 

Sanji is a lover of love. If he can do anything for his s/o, then he's the happiest man in the whole universe. But when it comes to his hands, he's always a bit nervous. He takes great care of his hands, always doing self-care to keep them smooth and perfect. His nails are always properly cut and finished. 

"Mon amour, je ne sais pas si c'est une bonne idée" (my love, I don't know if it's a good idea) 

He really wants to please you, but he's concerned about hurting his hands or possibly contaminating the food while cooking. Reassure him and he'll accept. He's a kind and gentle lover who wants to make you smile no matter what. 

Sanji has a sense of style, so he'll request something that matches his attire. Or maybe the color of your eyes, as a small reminder of your mesmerizing beauty? You have the option to choose between two ideas, and he trusts you with the outcome. 

He would gaze at you with eyes full of admiration and love, always giving you praise. "Y/N, it's beautiful, je suis si fier de toi" (I'm so proud of you)" 

Honestly the best: he stays still, doesn't move his hands or touch the polish while it's drying. Really patient. Heart pounding really fast every time he crosses your gaze. Damn, he loves  spending time with you so much.

Once it's all done, he's a bit sad because he wishes it could be last for a whole eternity. He would cherish his manicure and show it proudly to all the crew. And, as a reward and a thank you for the beautiful job, of course, he'll thank you with a good meal, a great drink, a lot of hugs and a sweet kiss. 

"Merci, mon amour" (Thank you my love)

While he's cooking, he absolutely loves watching his nails, always laughing quietly with the memory of his lovely moment rooted in his soul. 

When the manicure disappears, he would take it off while sobbing the entire time, because he's sad. 

Can you re-paint my nails, Y/N? 

The sweetest ♡

[separatist-apologist]

Guilty As Sin

Summary: Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her.

And now he has her.

TW: Dubious consent, blood kink, knife play

Read On AO3

-

It would be, perhaps, Rhysand’s greatest triumph to kill Tamlin Rosewood. After all, Tamlin had set him down this path so many years before—when they’d been teenagers, two boys from questionable, if not wealthy homes, looking for something to make them feel alive. Tamlin had asked Rhys if he wanted to see something cool, and then let him watch as Tamlin sliced apart a local vagrant. It should have been horrifying. Disgusting.

And yet Rhysand had found the whole thing fascinating. More fascinating still was how easy it was to claim his first kill. Rhysand needed a moral code to keep himself in line, to keep from just jamming a blade into every person who passed him on the street. Tamlin had suggested it, too, perhaps recognizing Rhys’ propensity for violence. Or maybe he knew all too well how enjoyable snuffing out life was. How close to God it made Rhys feel.

Pick those that can fight back.

People who’ve wasted their life.

Do the world a  favor.

Of course they’d eventually turn on each other. How long before two serial killers realized the world might be better off without at least one of them? It had been a cat and mouse game ever since, trying to catch the other unaware and going to ground when they failed. Tamlin had come close a couple times while Rhys had mostly just watched.

Waited.

Bided his time until Tamlin genuinely believed himself to be a god. That Rhys was so afraid of him he wouldn’t dare. Tamlin had let his guard down just enough to find himself a girlfriend he apparently liked. And she, Rhys decided, was going to be how he finally killed Tamlin. Collateral in their feud, he told himself. After all, any woman dumb enough to fall for Tamlin wasn’t worth much. 

He’d looked her up—Feyre Archeron. Her profile picture on facebook was an artbrush, but she’d helpfully listed every job she’d ever had since high school—and there had been many. Rhys ran them all down until he got to the art studio she taught at and, because he liked a little drama in his life, signed him up for one of her intro classes. 

He had been unaware he would be the only adult in said class until a wave of bouncy, giggly children had stormed through the doors, taking seats at easels while their parents vanished. He could have slipped out—he’d meant to, he swore it. But Feyre Archeron had come waltzing in wearing a baby blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem hanging just beneath her ass, and oh. Rhys stayed in his chair, if only to admire the curve of her hips in those cotton soft leggings.

She didn’t seem like Tamlin’s usual type. There was a softness to her features, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose alongside a splatter of violet ink in those cerulean eyes, that made Rhys certain she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her full mouth curved into an easy smile, gaze settling on him.

“Did you mean to sign up for this?” she asked him, eliciting another round of giggles from the children. There was no malice to her words, playful and sweet. He wanted to put his hands on her. Was she corruptible? Oh, how Rhys wanted to find out. His plans reshaped themselves as they looked at the other, though Feyre didn’t know it. Killing her wasn’t an option, not anymore. No. He’d take her for himself, stripping Tamlin of everything he cared about before finally spilling his blood. And he’d start with perfect, pretty Feyre Archeron.

Rhys offered her a lazy smile, running a hand through his ebony hair. “My skill level is comparable, I’m certain.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she replied, her delight evident. Rhys felt her amusement reflected in his own body. When was the last time anyone had charmed him by sight alone? Nevermind how funny he found her, watching as she interacted with each student with the kind of unending patience he could only dream of. It begged the question—what did Tamlin want with her? He knew Tamlin, and of all the virtues Tamlin might claim to have, patience certainly wasn’t one of them.

He had a famously vicious temper. 

Did Feyre know her boyfriend was a serial killer? Did Tamlin know his girlfriend taught school children in her spare time? What would be more abhorrent to who? Rhys never managed to untangle that, just like he never managed to make his brush strokes half as nice as the eight year old beside him. Rhys lingered, waiting until the kids were gone and Feyre was cleaning up to say something to her.

“I’m not some kind of weirdo, I hope you know,” he began, drawing a pretty laugh from prettier lips. 

“No? I might have thought so if I hadn’t seen how abysmal you are with a brush. I teach preschoolers on Tuesdays. You might be better suited in that class.”

“You wound me, Ms. Archeron,” he replied, one hand pressed to his chest. “You didn’t like my house?”

“Oh, was that what it is?” she asked, squinting at his muddied colors on the paper. “I thought you were painting me a stormy sky.”

“I��ll paint whatever you tell me to,” Rhys quipped, noting how her cheeks flushed. No ring on her finger—god, but how incredible to seduce her out from under Tamlin’s nose. For Tamlin not to realize he was losing everything to his old nemesis. How long before Tamlin learned of Rhysand’s treachery? Rhysand was a patient man. It was one of his better qualities, few as they were.

He’d send Tamlin a wedding invitation inked in blood, fuck his new wife, and then, as a gift to her, bring her Tamlin’s still beating heart.

Wife? That was a weird thought.

Rhys cleared his head. He was merely excited at the prospect of punishing Tamlin—that was all. Feyre was beautiful, but hardly wife material. Besides, the kind of woman who spent her time teaching children to color within the lines didn’t want to get shackled to the likes of him. Not long-term, at any rate. Rhys had dated plenty of women, all of whom woke up one morning deeply unsettled and certain they were making a mistake. He couldn’t blame them—he would make an awful husband. 

A good lay, though? He could give her that. 

“Watch yourself Rhysand.”

“Come, now,” he said, rising from the little metal stool he’d been sitting on. She was so much smaller than him—lithe and lovely, so breakable in a way that made him want to be careful rather than rough. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“Fine. Watch yourself Rhys. I’ll think you’re flirting if you’re not careful,” Feyre said, twisting that thick, golden brown hair off her face with a paintbrush. Something within him stirred at the sight of wispy tendrils framing her face, fingers twitching with the urge to brush them from her cheekbones. 

“Careful isn’t how anyone who knows me would describe me. Besides…maybe I am flirting.”

This was the part where she told him she had a boyfriend. Rhys waited, catching the flicker of indecision streak over her features. He could practically hear her rationalizing it in her mind—there was no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, Tamlin. Rhys cocked his head. How far could he take this before she broke? If he could just get his hands into those tight leggings of hers, she’d forget all about that blonde haired bastard. C’mon, Rhys urged.

His silent plea fell on deaf ears. Too good for the likes of him, Feyre said, “Well, if you were flirting, I’d have to tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky him,” Rhys replied, gut twisting despite his easy expression. “I know when I’ve been beat. See you around Feyre.”

And then he left, still smiling to himself as he went. She had no idea, of course. 

But Rhys would be seeing her very soon.

– 

Feyre stared down at the meal, ruined again. Behind her, Tamlin practically seethed with unseen anger. She could feel him working to leash his temper, to resist the urge to tell her I told you so.

I told you you’re a terrible cook.

“I’ll order dinner,” Tamlin said, ignoring the way Feyre blinked back tears. Bracing the ledge of the sink, she stared out the open window into the dark. She was trying—didn’t that matter? It wasn’t that badly burned, besides. They could have eaten around it. Feyre wished Tamlin would sit down, tell her it looked good, and eat it. Was that so much to ask? 

Apparently, given the heavy, long-suffering sigh from the man behind her. “You don’t need to try so hard, Feyre. You have me.”

“It’s—” She choked back the urge to scream that it wasn’t about impressing him. It was about care, about showing him that she loved him in some tangible way. Doing something for him so that he, in turn, might do something for her. Might do or say something that made her feel seen and safe. 

It had been a year of the stretching silence and the long sighs. Of not technically doing anything that would cause her to break up with her, all while giving off an air of not liking her very much. Well—that wasn’t fair. When the lights were out and they were in bed, Tamlin was very attentive. Detached, somehow—he never wanted her to look him in the eye—but he knew every place to touch and tease to make her writhe. And that was too often enough to convince her it was better to stay and hope whatever was bothering him faded and he went back to the love sick fool she’d first fallen in love with.

It didn’t help that Rhysand—Rhys—was still lodged firmly in her brain three days post meeting him. He’d been…well…he’d been beautiful. And charming. And funny, too. Endearing, even, as the kids teased him for his poor paint work. And when he’d said he was flirting, well…Feyre had imagined sending Tamlin a quick text message.

This is over. Don’t call me again. 

Throwing away a year on a man with a roguish smile seemed like a call for help. Still, he’d been on her mind, unshakable as her relationship with Tamlin stagnated like pond water. He ordered food without consulting her, ate it silently, all the while staring at his phone. He worked for a security firm and spent so much time watching the cameras, tracking people with a single-minded devotion she wished he’d focus on her.

“I’m going out,” he told her abruptly, only after Feyre had changed into a tiny slip of a nightdress, thinking she’d feel better if they at least had sex. His pine green gaze slid down her body without a hint of interest or appreciation. Just an acknowledgement that she had nearly every inch of her skin out for him before looking back to her face. “You can wait up, if you want.” How romantic, she wanted to scream. She felt utterly pathetic, a neglected housewife married for twenty years while her husband had an affair. Only Tamlin’s affair was with his job and Feyre would never come first. 

Say nothing, she ordered herself. And yet her traitorous lips said, “Couldn’t it wait another night?”

He regarded her without emotion. “It can’t. Get some sleep, Feyre. I’ll be in later.” Tamlin turned without a look back, swiping his car keys thrown haphazardly on the dresser, and strode from the room. Feyre didn’t, listening to the sound of the soft snick of the closing door and the sound of tires pulling away from the curb.

What was more pathetic, she wondered as she padded into the kitchen for a drink for water? Staying up late to seduce him, thus allowing him to have everything he wanted without doing any work at all, or staying with him when she was so miserable in the first place? Was this love?

Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer any of those questions. 

There, in the hall, stood a tall, muscular…man? They certainly seemed masculine, with broad shoulders that tapered into a rather nice waist beneath that high necked sweater. Matching black pants and a belt would have made him look rather nice, had he not been holding a massive, jagged knife in one gloved hand.

The ghost face mask obscuring his features didn’t help, either. Feyre didn’t move, heart hammering against her ribs. Scream. Run. Do something.

“There you are,” a deep, rich voice spoke from beneath the mask, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don’t hurt me,” Feyre whispered, rooted in place as he made his way towards her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drinking in the heady smell of his cologne and that horrible knife glinting beneath the artificial lights beaming overhead. 

With his free hand, he reached toward her and to her credit, Feyre didn’t flinch. She merely stood utterly still as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone before sliding his gloved thumb over her lip.

“Hurt you? Darling, I’m here to rescue you.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of those dark words dripping with the promise of…the promise of what? Feyre tried a step backward, tripping over her own nervous feet to fall to the ground. The man lunged and she braced herself for the pain of his blade, for blood and misery before finally death. But all she found was fingers around her body, hoisting her into the air.

She flailed, heel connecting with his jaw. He swore and the two fell to the ground gracelessly a second time, him tearing her nightdress to keep her pinned beneath him.

“I do so like you like this,” he all but growled as she tried to yank that mask off his face. If she was going to kill her, she deserved to look him in the eyes. His fingers curled around her wrists, subduing her quickly—easily, before gathering both in one big, broad hand. The other came over her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered as she kicked out her legs from beneath him. Why was this happening? She was going to die. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. How could he say that as he was suffocating her with his hand? She  continued to writhe, for all the good it did her, her screaming mind drowning out the words her attacker was saying. Lungs burning, desperately trying to gasp for air, Feyre couldn’t control her limbs. She felt herself getting dizzy, choking on her own pooling spit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” her attacker said, his voice far away. “Stop fighting me and I’ll remove my hand.” Her body went limp as she complied immediately, willing to do anything if it meant she could breathe again. And true to his word, her attacker removed his hand, letting her take a gasping, sobbing breath of air. 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, caressing her cheek a second time. “If you do everything I say, no one has to get hurt. Can you stand?”

“No,” Feyre said, eyes closed as she focused only on the sensation of air in her body. She wasn’t going to help him abduct her, besides. Not that it mattered. He had her wrists bound before he picked her back up like she was weightless to him, walking her toward her front door with ease.

“My boyfriend has cameras on the door,” she said, unsure if she was warning this man or helping him. “He’s going to see you.”

A chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “Oh, I am well aware. Your boyfriend is too busy hunting tonight to check…and by the time he does, you and I will be long gone.”

The cool night air was like a caress against her clammy skin. Feyre saw the car—sleek and dark—parked so brazenly in the drive. 

“The police will find you,” she warned, deciding for a little boldness despite her swimming head and desperate desire to fall asleep.

“That would require Tamlin to call them…and he won’t. No, my darling—this is personal and you’re simply caught up in the middle of it. Now—can I trust you to behave in my back seat, or do you need to go in the trunk? I don’t want to put you back there…but I will.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre demanded, mind swimming.

“I mean, I don’t want to die on the road—”

“About hunting,” she interrupted, looking up at that ghostface mask. “About Tamlin not calling the police.”

Her attacker seemed to hesitate, muscles going taut beneath her. “I had a whole presentation planned. Why spoil it?”

“Tell me.”

“Your boyfriend is a killer—just like me. He taught me, in fact—or rather, we taught each other. He can’t involve the police without risking himself so he won’t.”

“Am I bait?”

“Oh, Feyre darling, you are so much more than that. For now, you’re merely my guest. Now—can I trust you in the car?”

Ferye closed her eyes. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to be careful. She had the thought just as her attacker laid her in the back of his car. She panicked, seeing him hovering over her, and immediately kicked him in the throat. He stumbled back as Feyre filled her lungs with air and screamed. She didn’t yell help—but screamed at the top of her lungs hoping a neighbor would come out.

“Fucking shit,” the kidnapper groaned, lunging forward. With her wrists bound, Feyre couldn’t do much, especially when he picked her back up. “Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want—-” She screamed directly against his ear, causing him to jerk back a step. He didn’t speak, merely popped his trunk and dumped her unceremoniously inside.

“Remember I tried,” he said before slamming it shut. Feyre immediately started looking for the little hatch that would open it, pulling it with her teeth.

The masked man was waiting, arms crossed over his chest. “Why must you make this difficult?”

“I hate you,” she bit back, heart racing in her throat. He only sighed before producing masking tape. After a moment, she found it pressed over her eyes and mouth before he bound her ankles, too.

“Open my trunk and roll out,” he dared her, the sound of his voice somehow more terrifying than the sight of him. “See how far that gets you.”

He slammed the trunk again, leaving Feyre alone in the dark. She screamed against the tape, trying to break it until her wrists were raw. He’d begun driving, the music faint through the fabric of the backseats. Would it have been smarter to pretend to be his friend? To lull him into a false sense of security? Feyre had never been particularly patient. In fact, she was spontaneous to a fault, acting without thinking and hoping it all worked out. Of course, that was for school assignments and ghosting friends—never because she’d been kidnapped.

Think, Feyre. 

She couldn’t, though. Not beyond her immediate problem, which was the tape over her mouth and eyes. If she could just get it off, Feyre thought she’d be able to think more clearly. Figure out a plan and execute it. She rubbed until her wrists ached and her head pounded, but at no point did she manage to do anything but chafe her skin, exhaling for air roughly through her nose. 

Eventually, the car came to a stop, the music cutting off abruptly. Lost to the dark, Feyre went limp as the sound of shoes on gravel flooded her senses. A moment later, cold air rushed into the trunk as hands lifted her in the air.

“You’re a terrible actress,” her captor murmured, his amusement plain. “I’m going to unbind you when we get inside. Are you listening to me? Nod your head.” Feyre did.

She heard the sound of numbers being keyed into a pad followed by the smell of warm cedar, drowning out the unmistakable scent of snow. Feyre was set on something soft—a sofa, before the tape was peeled off her eyes, and then her mouth. She was in a cabin, she realized. Well decorated and comfortable—and likely remote. Had he taken her up into the Illyrian Mountains?

“People will be looking for me—”

“No they won’t,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the edge of his mask. He was showing her his face? Feyre panicked—the only reason he’d do that was if he didn’t intend for her to tell anyone. She almost begged him not to, but a second later he’d peeled it back, revealing…well. Not what she’d imagined.

He was handsome, the asshole. Dark hair paired with eyes so blue they seemed violet were the first things she noticed. He was staring down at her, his sensual lips curled into a smile. The sharpness of his jaw and his high cheekbones gave him an almost aristocratic air, and his warm, brown skin was utterly unblemished and smooth. 

She’d been imagining him as some ugly man. This was worse, somehow. If he was caught, he’d have prison groupies. People would wonder if he’d really done anything horrible at all given how lovely he was to look at. That charming smile certainly didn’t help. 

"I remember you," she said. "From the art studio."

Rhys grinned. 

“Let me explain to you how things are going to work between us,” he began, running a hand through his thick hair. “There is nowhere for you to run, and if you try, you’re likely to plummet to your death or freeze before I find you. No one is looking for you. Repeat that as often as you need to. Tamlin will make all your excuses. He’s not going to rescue you. Until I’m done, you are at my mercy.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, wishing she could curl herself into a small ball. 

He chuckled. “No, Feyre. I’m not going to kill you. I think we might get along perfectly well so long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

Like running away. The look on his face told her he expected her to. She didn’t have shoes, was dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn’t get far, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he banked on her fear to keep her compliant. 

He made a show of pulling a pocket knife from his pants and freeing her, frowning at her raw, bruised wrists. Feyre drew them against her chest, looking up at him warily. “What now?” He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you remain within these walls.”

Fat chance of that. But Feyre nodded, hoping she looked properly scared. The cabin itself was small, and filled with cameras. He’d see her. Fine. He had to sleep at some point—he couldn’t be monitoring her all day, every day.

It was a bit of a stretch to call it a cabin given the home had two floors. It was remote, though, and seemed to function mostly off the grid, and had a rather nice kitchen she doubted he knew how to use. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a den he seemed to work out of—she wasn’t sure, given he didn’t open that door and merely gestured to it with a casual, don’t go in there.

Maybe it was where he tortured his victims. 

Feyre was given a room down the hall from him, devoid of a lock. “Look up,” he murmured, chin gutting toward the camera. “Wave to Tamlin.”

Feyre glanced up, unsure which of them she hated more. “He can see me?”

“He’ll see this,” Rhys murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s easy enough to send it to him.”

“You could get back at him without involving me,” she heard herself say, wondering if that made her a traitor. This had nothing to do with her, and Feyre felt as if she was being punished unfairly for whatever was going on between Rhys and Tamlin. 

He shrugged. “Consider this a rescue.”

A rescue? Feyre was going to kill him. Maybe he saw it, because he nodded toward the twin bed shoved in the corner. “There’s some clothes in the closet you can use—”

“Who did they belong to?” she demanded, heart leaping in her throat.

“My cousin,” he replied, eyes narrowed. As if he were offended she might suggest there’d been another captive in the room. Feyre didn’t want to think about that—it made her panic all over again. 

Rhys left after a few more self satisfied words around how he’d find her if she tried to escape so not to bother. Feyre wasn’t listening, already thinking about escaping through the window. Was it locked? Her bedroom door wasn’t, which felt like a test. Was he hoping she’d try and escape? 

Feyre sat on the edge of that bed and talked herself into her plan. Ignoring that it was cold and isolated and that she was woefully unprepared, Feyre instead thought about Rhys.

He wasn’t a god. He was only a man. He might have cameras on her, might have her watched, but he couldn’t search miles and miles of forest. The only advantage he had, supposedly, was that he knew she was missing before anyone else did. Feyre had grown up running through the backwoods and something about the slick way Rhys had his hair shoved off his stupid, too-perfect, face, told her he could not boast the same.

Feyre found booties in the back of the closet, and a million pairs of leggings hanging in the closet besides sweaters that were far too big for her frame. They’d double as a blanket, she decided as she pulled it all on. 

He was probably watching her. Feyre turned toward the camera and the blinking red light and offered her middle finger before throwing open that window. 

“For fucks sake!” Rhys’s voice called from somewhere inside the cabin. Feyre scrambled out the window, toppling feet over head into the frigid snow. Rhys’s fingers skimmed her ankle, attempting to drag her back inside. 

Scrambling to her feet as he came right out behind her in that stupid mask, Feyre realized it was a lot harder to run in snow than she’d expected. She had a head start on him for a solid ten seconds before he slammed into her, taking them both back to the ground. Rhys was made of solid muscle and was heavy. 

His bare hand wrapped around her throat, arching her neck upward until his lips touched her ear. “I told you not to,” he said as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get out from under him. 

“I don’t care what you say!” Feyre screamed. Rhys grabbed her arms, holding them in one broad hand as he restrained her thoroughly.

“You will—” he began, but Feyre head butted him, earning a furious curse in her ear. He half fell to his side, losing his grip on her wrists, which gave her time to scramble back to her feet. Rhys was just behind, grabbing her around her middle before hauling her up on his shoulder.

Feyre screamed, and though Rhys stumbled, he didn’t drop her like she’d hoped he would. 

“Scream all you want,” Rhys roared in response, as if he needed to make his point. “No one can hear you!”

“Tamlin is going—”

“He’s not coming!” Rhys interrupted, his fury finally scaring her. She hadn’t been frightened before—not truly. But right then, draped over Rhys’s shoulder while he wore that mask in the dark, his voice dripping with condemnation, Feyre was frightened. He sounded irate, dragging her back into that cabin with sure steps.

He didn’t take her back to that same room. Instead, Rhys dropped her into a different one—one that looked distinctly lived in. One that belonged to him, she realized. Feyre attempted to scramble up but Rhys was consistently faster. He had one leg, and then the other bound to the posts at the end of the footboard.

He sat on the bed beside her, laptop resting on his thigh. He pulled that mask up over his face, tossing it to the bed beside her. 

“Look for yourself,” Rhys snarled, shoving the open messages on the screen in front of her face. “Look and see how much he loves you.”

There were a slew of messages between them, and yet Feyre’s eyes snagged only on one.

Kill her then. 

She waited to see if she’d cry, but nothing came. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not coming for you,” Rhys informed her, eyes bouncing over her face as if he were searching for something. “This is between us, and you’ve become collateral.”

“Then why don’t you kill me?” Feyre snapped, yanking at her ankles trapped in the leather cuffs. They were bondage cuffs, she realized, rather than handcuffs. 

“Why would I kill you?” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “Tamlin might not be mounting some heroic rescue, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t view you as his. His little toy to play with until he gets tired of her…” Rhys murmured, sliding the side of his finger along her neck. “I’m not supposed to touch.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I asked you not to leave,” he continued, ignoring her plea as his fingers made their way down her shoulder. “Left the door open so you knew you could move freely through the house. You’re so desperate to get back to him, but I know what he does to pretty little things like you. Where they end up. How their families mourn.”

“Stop,” she whispered, unsure which terrified her more—his touch, or the threat of what Tamlin might eventually do.

Rhys caught her wrist, binding it over her head before Feyre’s mind could catch up with his actions. She was wholly restrained and he was holding a knife as he walked around the bed. 

“You’re still bait,” he murmured, one hand sliding over a wooden bedpost. “He can see us right now, you know. He’s watching, hoping I’ll kill you before you tell me something you shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” she whispered, trying in vain to wriggle away. 

“If you didn’t know anything, he wouldn’t have responded at all. He’s slipped up—you know something,” Rhys declared, running the sharp edge of his blade across her leggings. The fabric snagged, ripping neatly from ankle to waistband.

“I swear I don’t,” she protested as cool air caressed over her now exposed thighs. He wasn’t done as he ruined that oversized blue sweater, too, leaving her in nothing but the shredded remains of fabric. Violet eyes swept over her now naked form and rather than sadistic amusement, Feyre swore she saw unguarded desire staring back at her.

“You do,” Rhys murmured, pausing between her legs. She tried to hide herself from view, but she was restricted by the restraints. “You just don’t remember.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” Rhys questioned, tossing his knife beside his mask. The weapon left a small impression atop the black duvet, sharp end pointing toward her ribcage as if to warn her not to try anything.

Feyre pulled against her restraints, for all the good it did her. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Rhys told her without moving. He did, however, gesture behind him to a wall half hidden in shadow. There, hanging in a gold frame, hung a familiar work of art. Her first ever painting sold—it was a moody seascape Tamlin had accused of being cliche. She’d been brand new, and yet talented enough to be accepted into a showing where an anonymous buyer had overpaid for it.

Feyre still had that first check tucked away in a desk drawer, and when she felt overwhelmed or dejected, she’d pull it out to look at. That same buyer had purchased something from every collection she’d done, always paying far more than she was asking. 

“That was you?”

“I have an eye for beautiful things you know,” he informed her, his gaze a brand against her skin. 

“You’re jealous?”

“Desperately,” he replied without irony. “It’s always been like that between us. He has everything I want.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to tell him not to do this, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. 

“He’s watching,” Rhys told her, glancing over his shoulder. “Keeps hacking into my system to see what you’re doing. Will you smile for him, Feyre? Let him think you’re happy?”

“Just let me go,” she pleaded as her captor slid to his knees between her legs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t,” he murmured, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “I want to keep you.”

Alive, was the unspoken word between them. Did he realize that was a low bar? A bar already set in hell, so far beneath his feet there ought to be no trouble clearing it. And yet…Feyre turned her head as he kissed up his leg, stomach tight from anxiety. 

“Like this?”

He shrugged. “I’d untie you, but I think you’d kill me with your bare hands if I did.”

“I think you’d like it,” she shot back, squirming when she felt his warm breath tease between her legs. 

“I’m hard just thinking about it,” he agreed with a grin. 

His tongue slid up the center of her pussy before Feyre could think of a good comeback. She yelped, trying—and failing—to escape the feeling. It had been too long since someone had done this for her, which was how Feyre explained the bolt of lust racing through her. He didn’t stop, eyes pinned to her face to see if she liked what he was doing.

Feyre was resolved not to react. Men always tired of this act after a minute or two, doubly so when they weren’t being catered to on their back, but instead forced to kneel. It was easy, at least in the beginning, to ignore his tongue teasing her clit. She thought about how cold the snow had been when she’d fallen out the window and reminded herself he’d shoved her in a trunk. That he was a killer, too, and toying with her boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend. Feyre wasn’t really sure what they were anymore. She supposed they were over, given he’d told Rhys to kill her. Feyre’s eyes slid to the camera in the corner of the room and somehow, she could feel him watching. Could feel his anger, too—as if this were all her fault. As if she’d kidnapped herself, tied herself up, and was now being forced into pleasure, too.

Are you happy now? Feyre wanted to scream it. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys growled, forcing her to look back down at him. How long had it been, anyway? Her body hummed at the loss of contact, proving that though she was trying not to feel anything, she couldn’t block him out entirely.

“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.

“All my time belongs to you now,” was his frustrating reply. He returned his tongue back to her pussy and this time, though she tried, Feyre couldn’t refocus on anything but his touch. It was all wrong—his mask lay on the bed, the knife still pointed toward her, inches away from her exposed skin.

For all she knew, he was lying to her and would kill her when he finished.

“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling on her restraints.

“Come, then,” he said in response, his voice muffled. 

Feyre didn’t want to come. For a while, she writhed against her restraints until he physically pinned her to the bed, holding her still so he could continue his slow torture. Feyre thought he liked when she fought him—that he wanted to bring her under submission. She held herself back, whimpering from the effort as she counted in her head. 

“Do you need a distraction?” Rhys murmured when he heard her reciting the ingredients to a recipe. “Something to turn off that meddling brain of yours?”

“No,” she gasped, but he was on his feet, hands undoing his dark trousers. “I don’t need—I’m fine, I’ll finish—”

“I know you will,” he replied, pulling his long, thick cock from his pants. Feyre couldn’t not look at it as Rhys moved around the bed, extending his restraints so he could reposition her. Feyre fought him, slapping Rhys hard in the face when he undid her arms. He grunted but didn’t react other than to sigh, his frustration plain. With the longer rope, he could tie her hands to the bedposts without overextending her arms while her head now hung off the edge of the bed.

“I won’t,” she informed him.

“You will,” Rhys replied, pinching her nose when she pressed her lips together. As he waited for her to take a breath, he rubbed his cock over her cheek while his other hand slid across her breasts to play with her nipples.

Feyre tried—oh, how she tried—but in the end, she had to take a gasping breath of air. He pushed the head of his cock between her teeth, not caring when sensitive flesh scraped roughly against the jagged edges. The hand that had once pinched her nose now held her throat, squeezing just enough to warn her not to try and bite. 

She did anyway.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned, taking his knife and resting it on her stomach. Feyre didn’t believe he’d use it until he took the hilt and began using the smooth silver to tease against her clit.

She couldn’t argue with him, mouth filled with his cock. She widened her jaw to take a breath as he angled his hips, pushing himself further until he was backed up against her throat. Feyre gagged lightly, praying he wouldn’t keep going. 

She didn’t want to throw up.

Clearly neither did Rhys. Groaning softly, he whispered, “You suck so well.”

She wasn’t doing anything, really—Rhys moved his hips, setting the pace so he could fuck her mouth. Feyre screamed around him when she felt him push the hilt of the knife into her body so he, too, could fuck her with it. He’d been right about one thing—sucking his cock kept her focused on what was happening between her legs. She could think of nothing else, her mind torn between the air coming into her lungs and what Rhys was currently doing with his mouth. 

With his legs spread, he’d returned to licking her clit, focused wholly on that and nothing else. How did he not cut himself on the blade, she wondered as she tried to wriggle the knife out of her pussy.

It didn’t work. Whatever he was doing, he was skilled. Feyre was reacting, her body tightening around the hilt of the blade thanks to the skill of his tongue. Rhys groaned when she sucked in more air than she’d meant to, lips forming a seal around his shaft.

“Just like that baby,” he moaned before picking up his pace. She was going to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Feyre tried, eyes leaking from the cock bruising her throat as saliva dripped down her neck. He was going to come, too.

Quick, she realized with some relief. He was timing himself with her, well aware she was close to completion. At least he wouldn’t draw it out? Or he had something else planned. Feyre didn’t know.

Didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit that this was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. How fucked up was it that she hadn’t been able to get off for months, and now, tied up and forced, she was careening toward the sort of pleasure that threatened to unmake her. Was this how stockholm syndrome worked? Her body, flooded with pleasure, began to think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here with him.

“Keep sucking,” Rhys moaned again, his hips losing some of their controlled rhythm. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. Feyre sucked around him, though she refused to move her head and help him.

Rhys licked faster, moving in precise circles until her hips began to roll into him, chasing the inevitable. Feyre clenched, finding purchase on the hilt of the blade. Rhys rubbed it just against the perfect spot, his tongue unwavering and Feyre was undone. She screamed around his cock, body bowing off the bed and directly into his mouth. She heard him curse though she didn’t care, half ruined from the pleasure now ribboning through her. Feyre was a star, white hot as it erupted over a silent sky.

She’d forgotten, just for a second, he still had his cock buried in her throat. With a twitching jerk, Rhys came into her throat, his come spilling out the sides of her mouth to join the mess of spit pooling along her collarbone. 

Panting, he pulled himself out of her to show her the knife coated in her own release and dripping with blood. His blood, she realized with alarm, noting the gash sliced over his palm.

“I got too excited,” he breathed, wiping it over her naked breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Untie me,” she whispered, tugging against the restraints. “Please, untie me—”

Despite his injured hand, Rhys was quick about it, undoing her hands first, and then her feet. She’d told herself she was going to hit him for what had just happened, but instead Feyre merely sat up while he stepped out, half naked from the waist down, only to return with a warm rag he used to wipe up the mess of come and blood. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her against his chest. 

Feyre looked up at him, unsure if she believed him. “Tamlin told you to.”

“I wouldn’t kill my worst enemy to satisfy him.”

She swallowed. “And…if I wanted to kill him?”

Rhys grinned. “Say less, pretty baby. Say less.”

[waitineedaname]

shoes in FMA rated on how comfortable they'd be to fight in

Edward Elric

considering Ed's uhhh very distinct taste in aesthetics, these could be a lot worse. they look relatively comfortable and don't seem like they'd be difficult to move around in. they are platforms though, which I imagine makes things more difficult. I'll be generous and give these a 7/10

Most of the Amestrian military

pretty much everyone in uniform wears the same shoes, so I'm lumping them all together. these are Roy's, if that matters. they look fine. I imagine that because it is part of a military uniform, it's designed to be moved around in and worn for hours on end, so ideally they're relatively comfortable. it doesn't look like there's much traction, but they're usually fighting on flat surfaces so whatever. 8/10

Fu and Lan Fan

these shoes fucking rule. the picture I've included is Lan Fan's, but they wear p much the same shoes. I fucking love these things. they have spikes. Edward Elric fucking wishes. considering this seems to be part of the bodyguard uniform, I'd imagine they're as easy to run around in as the military shoes, if not better since they're expected to be doing martial arts in them. but most importantly, they have spikes. 10/10, no notes.

Ling and Mei

on the topic of doing martial arts, both Ling and Mei wear these.... I'm not sure what they are. flats? slippers? it's unclear. (EDIT: they are apparently Kung Fu shoes!) they seem relatively easy to move around in I guess since they're not very cumbersome and both Ling and Mei rely on being very nimble. they look like they have absolutely no support in the soles though, which is gonna get painful after a certain point. also depending on what fabric they're made of, they could definitely start chafing. I've worn flats. I know that hell. 7/10 for the potential blisters, but at least they're designed specifically for martial arts

Greedling and Bradley

it's hard to get a good shot in this scene because neither of them stop moving, but I swear to god, they're fighting in dress shoes. I cannot stand them. this CANNOT be comfortable. I know Greed prioritizes aesthetics over function so this was probably a compromise between his and Ling's tastes but ohhh my god. he was probably wasting so much of the philosopher's stone just passively healing the million blisters on his feet from running around in these things. there's a chance Bradley is wearing the military uniform shoes but I think he was in more formal dress when he got blown the fuck up, so I don't think so. no wonder he complains about being sore, quit running around in dress shoes you fucking moron. 4/10.

Greed

THESE FUCKING THIIIIIIIINGS. WHY ARE THEY POINTY AT THE END. WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE SOMEONE HIT HIS FOOT WITH A MALLET AND FLATTENED THEM. he's so dumb. I love him. looking at these things tells me he would probably wear goth cowboy boots if he could, and tbh that would probably look better. 3/10 for Greed's overall silly as hell fashion sense

Lust

okay. the heels make sense considering her whole vibe. however. these are part of her fucking BODY. when she gets incinerated, they grow back. can she even take them off???? I'm scared to ask. I guess if theyre part of her body, she doesn't have to worry about adjusting to balancing in them like you would normally with heels, but oh my god. she can never wear normal shoes. I would also be murderous if I had to wear heels all the time. 4/10.

Father and Izumi

guys. these are sandals. it has been four hundred years and Father is still wearing the same outfit he was wearing in the damn desert. find a new outfit man. Izumi is apparently wearing bathroom slippers (hence the WC) so idk why she's even wearing those out of the house. Father gets 0/10 and Izumi gets 1/10 because she still manages to kick everyone's asses while wearing these, so respect

Envy

PUT YOUR FUCKING TOES AWAY. -10000000/10

[jazziejax]

Queen Treatment for

The King

Pairings- Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Art Donaldson x black!OC, Patrick x black!OC

Summary- cute, sexy, and heated moments between Dion King and her best friends who adore her

Warnings- anxiety attack??, jealousy, crying?, confessing if feeling, girls kissing ;)

Jazzie’s Notes!- sorry for any typos or mistakes, it is yet again, 1AM…I guess this is when I thrive??? It’s also not proofread because I don’t enjoy reading my own work :)

Word Count- 3,239

Part I, Part II

The only that Dion could hear was the sound of her small grunts that sounded through the empty tennis court as she hit the ball back and forth. She was currently practicing with one of her teammates. She had asked the girl to match her in the cafeteria earlier, catching her with some of her friends. The table had gotten quiet when she walked over but she didn’t care. Daphne agreed and Dion walked away, but she could hear the hushed cheer between them. She was a good player but nowhere as good as Dion. Although said skills weren’t anywhere on display at the moment. She was struggling to play against some regular who could barely keep up with her.

She was in her head after what Patrick had told her. She knew she told the boy to let the whole situation go and she’d talk to the girl but it’s been two days and both of them have been MIA with the other. She and Tashi never had something like this happen between them and it was throwing Dion off her game.

Instead of focusing on her opponent, watching their moves to see their weaknesses and strengths, whether they were better at a backhand or forehand, she was listening to the sound of her heartbeat. She could hear the sound of her feet hitting the ground in an irregular pattern. She could hear the sound of other people practicing tennis beyond the fence. All those things distracted her from thinking, trying to make her mind blank.

Trying to erase the thoughts about what Tashi was doing right now. Trying to not think about what Patrick said about Tashi. Trying to think of something other than the fact she still had feelings for her best friend. Trying to stop the feeling she got in her heart and her stomach whenever she thought about her. Felt that she was near. Trying to rid the thoughts of the girl who’s been plaguing her mind since they were thirteen.

She swung with all her force when the ball came her way, causing the bright beam to soar across the net. Daphne ducked as the ball passed her, barely skimming her shoulder. Dion slammed her racket down in frustration, letting out a loud groan. She was out of breath as she racked her fingers along the surface of her tight bun. Her back faced the girl on the other side of the net as she tried to collect her thoughts and calm her heart. Her fingers clasped at the nape of her neck, Daphne could see her shoulders rise and fall quickly, sweat glistening in the sun off her back.

Quicker than usual.

Concerned, the girl hopped over the net and jogged over to Dion.

“Hey, D, you okay?” She asked, stopping a few feet away from the girl. But Dion didn’t answer her, she couldn’t hear her. Her mind and heart were racing as she took in deep breaths. Her head started to spin, so she bent her knees and rested her hands on them to keep her up. She could feel her throat closing up in her. Worried, Daphne eased closer to the girl. She placed her hand on the girl’s back, not minding the sweat she could feel beneath her fingers.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re alright.” She tried to soothe. Seeing that it wasn’t helping the girl, she looked around to see if there was anything to help her. Catching the sight of her water bottle sitting near her bag, the girl ran over and grabbed the large bottle before running back. She squatted down to the girl's height, handing the bottle to her. “Here, drink this.” She said, grabbing Dion’s wrist and placing the bottle in her hand.

Dion immediately twisted the cap off the bottle. She stood up and threw her back bag, starting to chug the cold water in the metal can. Daphne just stood there, watching as the girl put her mouth on her water bottle. She could see some water spill past the mouth and make its way down the girl's sweat-covered skin. Dion then brought the bottle down once she was down, causing Daphne to gulp and snap back into reality.

“You good?” The pale girl asked her long brown hair in a high ponytail. Dion looked over at her, hard brown eyes making contact with her green ones. She was a little taller than Daphne, who found it and her general aura to be a bit intimidating. Especially now.

“Yeah.” Was all Dion said, still trying to catch her breath, although it was better than earlier? She looked down at the bottle in her hands, the unfamiliar feeling of the metal cup in her hand. “Uh, sorry about your water.” She said, looking back up at her teammate and pointing at the bottle. “I drink it all.” She then held it out for the girl to take.

Daphne, who was a little more nervous than before, awkwardly chuckled as she took the bottle back. “It’s no problem at all.” She said. There was an awkward pause between them, both girls looking anywhere beside each other with their minds clouded.

“What was that, just now?” Daphne suddenly asked, causing Dion to look back over at her. The darker girl furrowed her brows, which made Daphne start to panic. “I mean, like, are you okay? Because that looked like it could have gotten worse. Intense, I mean.” She rambled, not wanting to sound rude and step on any toes, especially those of the Dion King, aka King Dion.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Dion said, offering the girl the smallest smile which made Daphne feel things she wasn’t ready to admit. “It’s just…life.” She continued with a shrug. “It’s getting a little rough.” She joked, using her fingers to accentuate the word little with a small smirk on her face. It was almost like someone flipped a switch somewhere with how fast she chugged. She went from this girl who looked utterly helpless a few moments ago, back to regular charming Dion King.

“I know what you mean, schools kicking my ass right now in more ways than just class work,” Daphne said, a slight smile on her lips. “But, I’m always here if you need to talk, ya know? I’ve been told I’m a very good listener by…friends?” She said, more of a question to herself than to Dion. Dion furrowed her brows again in confusion, something she finds herself doing a lot of lately.

“I don’t have many friends,” Daphne answered her unspoken question. “Or any, honestly.” She shrugged.

“What about those girls you were eating lunch with earlier?”

“Sports groupies. Regular Stanford students that liked the idea of me being here on the tennis team and I was, kinda the only one that gave them the time of day.” Daphne stated with a simple shrug. Dion nodded at her with her arms crossed. “So that’s why I heard their giggles when I walked away?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer. Daphne silently winced at her words, almost tucking her head into her shoulders.

“You heard that?” She asked. Dion just chuckled and softly nodded her head. “Yeah, but it’s no big deal.” She shrugged. The girls shared soft giggles, unbeknownst to the lurking figure near the gates.

“Um, but yeah. I might take you up on that offer.” Dion said before walking over to her bags. Daphne was stunned into silence a little. “Oh. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She said, nodding her head as her eyes followed the girl’s form when she caught another figure in the corner of her eye. She looked over to see a familiar face.

“Oh, hey, Tashi.” She said casually.

Daphne almost froze at the girl’s words but she just tensed up as she continued to gather her things. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she turned to see Daphne look over at the tall and slender figure of her best friend. Tashi didn’t say anything, arms folded over her chest as her eyes darted between the two. Before the atmosphere could get awkward, Dion started walking to the exit gate.

“See ya, Daph.” She called out over her shoulder. Daphne smiled, waving at the girl before she realized that Dion couldn’t see her. “Oh. See ya.” She called out. Dion passed Tashi without a word, feeling the girl's eyes follow her but not her body. Tashi stood at the gate for a moment, as she watched Dion walk away before looking back over at Daphne. Said girl just awkwardly smiled and waved at her, intimidated and uncomfortable under the tennis player's harsh gaze. Tashi gave her a once over before offering a sliver of a smile and a two-finger wave and jogging off to catch up with Dion. Daphne stood there, watching as she ran away.

“What the fuck just happened?” She whispered to herself.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Tashi hissed as she caught Dion. The girl in black didn’t turn around to answer her, keeping her eyes forward as she walked quickly to her dorm. “Don’t speak to me that way, you know I won’t answer you.” Was all she said, never once stopping. Tashi sighed as she trident father herself, too caught up in her emotions to think straight. She knew Dion was right, the girl never responded to such language, no matter how much she used it herself. After a few seconds of silence, the only sound being the sound of their fit hitting the ground, Tashi spoke again.

“What has been up with you these past few days?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I already know that you know.”

“Okay, but I want to hear you say it.”

There was nothing said after that, causing Dion to let out a bitter chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” She said as she adjusted her bag on her shoulders and sped up her walking. Tashi said, following the girl hit on her trials. “Dion, it’s not like that.” The light-skinned girl pleaded.

“I don’t know what you mean, I can’t read your mind, Tash.” She said, still focused on her destination, never meeting the eyes that had been flushed on the side of her face their whole walk.

“What? So you want me to admit that I was jealous of how close you and Patrick were becoming? How I felt that you were replacing me with my boyfriend. The sexual tension between you two? Is that what you want?” She hissed. “As if you didn’t fuck Art when you came back from shopping, knowing we could hear you two in the next room.”

“I would never fuck Art to make you jealous, Tashi.” Dion said, her tone softening for just a few moments. “Not to make anyone jealous. I love Art.”

“You love him?” Tashi asked, almost stopping her walking at what Dion said. But Dion continued. But she couldn’t tell if whether it was because her mind was too busy to realize what she said or she was trying to avoid conversation. “Yes. Just how I love you and Patrick.” Was all the girl said.

“That’s not the same.” Tashi said, catching back up to her once she shook back from her shock.

“It is that same.” Dion said, stopping right outside the door of the dorm building and staring Tashi dead in the eyes for the first time during their whole conversation, back to her cold exterior. Both of them could hear the sound of Tashi’s heart breaking. But Dion was sticking up for herself. And Tashi was hearing the exact words she didn’t want to. She never wanted her love for Dion to amount to anything else in the world. She wanted what they had to special l. Something that almost existed outside of time, in a pocket just for them to access.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Dion asked, looking innocently into Tashi’s eyes. She knew her words dug a knife into the girls heart but she was tried of Tashi playing with everyone’s feelings. Especially her, when she’s been there since the beginning.

“So, don’t even try to spin it like that. Like it’s on me. As if you and I don’t have sex when he or Patrick isn’t here.” Dion spat back quietly, going back to the what they were previously talking about and getting pissed all over again. “You were the one that agreed we could sleep together, but I never did for the sake of you. You were the one who still wanted me to be available so we could have what we had going on. I don’t know what you have going on in that head of yours besides tennis but you need to be honest with yourself before trying to put the blame on me.” She hissed before slamming open the glass door to the girl’s dormitory area. Tashi couldn’t say anything, knowing Dion was telling the truth. She felt her heart clench at the girl's words, Dion’s stress evident in her tone. It hurt her to even think about what she could have been going through these past few days.

She continued to follow the girl. To be fair, her dorm was directly next to hers. Nothing was said between them after that, but the air was tense wherever they stepped, so tense that it could suffocate those who were just in their rooms studying. Dion walked a step ahead of Tashi all the way to her dorm, and when she was about to opened the door, Tashi’s voice stopped her.

“I admit it.” She started. Dion paused, her back still facing her. “I admit that I was jealous because I thought I was losing you.” When she saw that Dion had no intention of turning around, she placed her hand on her shoulder and moved her. Now face to face, Dion spoke.

“Is that all?” She asked, her harsh tone from earlier now gone, replaced with a softer one. One that showed sadness. And her eyes wound meet the girl across from her, pulling on Tashi’s heartstrings.

“No.” Tashi said timidly.

Dion glanced up to meet her eyes, signaling the girl to continue.

“I can’t lose you, Dion.” She started, dropping her constant tough girl act. She always became vulnerable around Dion. And now here she was being vulnerable in the middle of the hall. “It was already tough watching you basically live the married life with Art around campus. He practically lives in your dorm room. I was jealous then because I didn’t have my boyfriend around and it felt like Art knew more about you than I did at some point. I didn’t say anything because…I felt like I had no right to. Not after what we agreed on. And then Patrick came and I saw how close you guys were, always laughing and jumping around. And whoever that chick was you were practicing with.” She ranted, her breaths becoming short as her heart rate picked up. Dion took a step forward, looking Tashi in her eyes that looked like they were about to water. “I could almost feel you slipping away from me. And I can’t have that because you’re all I know. You’re all I have, Dee.” She confessed.

Dion shook her head at the girls words, eyes mirroring Tashi’s. “That not true because I’ll never slip away from you.” She started, taking another step and clasping Tashi’s hands within hers. “Tash, you’ll always be my number one. No one could ever replace you.” She said. She looked down at their intertwined hands, the contracts between their skin tones almost symbolic of their opposite personalities. Yin & Yang.

“But you have to realize that I need other people in my life too.” She gulped, looking back up into her eyes. “You decided that you wanted to be with Patrick. You decided that you wanted to still sleep with me even though you don’t want anything exclusive. You make all the decisions, Tashi. I want to make some of my own.” She said softly, bringing her hands up to the girl's waist and pulling her close. Tashi unconsciously did the same, placing her hands on Dion 's back. They were practically breathing each other's air at this point. Telling every breath the other let out against their skin. “And just because I love them doesn’t mean I love you any less. You will always be important to me.” She said before cupping the girls cheek and connecting their lips. Tashi lunged into the kiss, missing the feeling of Dion entirely.

In the middle of the hall, the two girls kiss in each other's embrace, currently not caring if anyone saw them. To catch their breath,they pulled away from one another and connected their foreheads. Tashi closed her eyes as she raised her head to rub her nose against Dion’s face, basking in her scent and the feel of her skin on hers.

“You love them?” She asked, her words so soft that even their proximity didn’t do anything for it. But Dion heard her, and she nodded her head.

“I do.” She said, taking a moment to continue. As if saying it out loud made her finally accept what she was feeling. “But you will always be my first love.” She said.

“And you will always be mine. And I will always love you.” Tashi said.

Dion had the urge to kiss her again at her words, but she could feel her tiredness getting to her. So she grabbed hold of Tashi’s hand and opened the door to her room. She didn’t even turn around to look at the girl as she spoke. “I have something for you.”

Closing the door behind her, she dropped her tennis bag and made her way to the same nightstand she grabbed Patrick’s gift from. She pulled out two long dark red boxes. She handed one to Tashi, who filled her across the room, and kept the other one.

Opening it, Tashi could see that it was a silver tennis bracelet with large diamonds in it. They were all different cuts, giving the bracelet a more unique feeling than just the average tennis bracelet. “I have a matching one. And I know you’re more of a good girl but this was all they had. Maybe in the future I could get some custom ones made for us.” She said. Tashi just smiled down at the gift. “I love it.” She said, before looking up at the girl. “I love that we have matching ones.” She said, taking it out of the box and letting Dion clasp it in her wrist before doing the same for her.

She looked down at the beautiful bracelet with a soft look in her eyes before looking back up at Dion. “I love you.” She said, her tone egging for reassurance. Almost scared that Dion didn’t feel the same, no matter their previous conversation. Dion smiled at her. “I love you too.” She said before grabbing a hold of her hand that held the bracelet in her wrist. “Stay the night.” She demanded more than asked.

After taking a shower, the girls laid within her bed while light kisses were shared between the two. And then they drifted off to sleep, within each other's arms.

Thabk you guys for reading!!!! Let me know if you want more of this little series. I’m currently writing another full length Chakkengers fic that will go off the movies plot a little, with my own things to add and tweak. That will be out soon!

@lottiematthewsceo @djoenthusiast @summerssover @tsukishimawhore @miximora @jackierose902109 @rueblackst @douceurrrr

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Look at all these dynamic brushstrokes that can only truly be appreciated because they're from a real painting… Fheehee! This is the real thrill of seeing one live!

Idia: ―Ah! Th-Th-Th-This is…! A PAINTING OF THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD ON HIS CHARIOT!!!

Idia: It hits so hard～ In order to rescue a captured comrade, the king himself rushes to the front lines… Oooowee～ Doesn't that just get your heart pumpin'?

???: Indeed… However, is it appropriate for a dutiful commander to leave his base and head to the front lines?

Idia: Eeek!!! Silver-shi!? D-Don't just cut in when I'm talking to myself like that. This is why I can't deal with extroverts…

Silver: My apologies for startling you. I found your comment to be interesting, so I could not help but chime in.

Idia: E-Even if you think it's interesting, don't you think your impression of him was pretty shallow just from this one anecdote...?

Silver: Meaning?

Idia: I-If he was just a minister or something, he coulda just split after setting up the strategy, leaving it to his subordinates to execute everything.

Idia: But he still went to such a dangerous place to stir up morale, because that mission would be the linchpin of the whole battle. So, basically…

Idia: That means his responsibility meter is through the roof!! Wheeew, he's a totally different breed than any naïve and useless politician who just hoists their title around.

Silver: So you're saying that he himself went out there because it was a crucial situation. I would say that he does have an overwhelming sense of responsibility, indeed.

Silver: Hearing your opinion on the matter has allowed me to delve deeper into understanding this painting and its story. You are quite wise.

Idia: S-Sure, yeah～! You should follow my example and study up on things a little better, Silver-shi!

Silver: I will do just that. …However, it feels as though what you said about how other leaders may act had some weight behind it.

Silver: I had heard that you took up the title of Housewarden after being recommended by the previous Housewarden...

Silver: Was that because you had had previous experience as a leader, and were thus therefore chosen for the position?

Idia: Huh!? N-No, nuh-uh, wut are you even talking about? No way, no way… 'Sides, I'm more of a solo player even in my online games, y'know?

Idia: I mean, sometimes I've taken the lead of a party when I absolutely had to for a raid, or something…

Silver: As I expected, you do have experience in leadership.

Idia: It's not that big a deal… I mean, I got a reliable battle buddy who tanks and usually takes the lead.

Idia: Generally, I go for healing or DPS roles. Or more like, I just stack as many buffs as I can to increase firepower.

Idia: But it's not like our schedules always line up, so whenever he's not around, I take the lead… Because I have to!

Idia: It's usually the high-level players with great skills that take on the leader role. And in that case, I've basically maxed out all my stats in every position, so…

Idia: And I can grasp what the scenarios call for, see? And I can also play the tank roles to take charge on the front lines, right???

Idia: "Thanks to you, I was able to clear this high-level quest! I'm so thankful to have joined this party!"

Idia: …THEY SAY, ELECTING ME MVP OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

Idia: And I was just taking on the leader role because I had to. I'm just way too good…

Silver: So, those who fought alongside you showered you with gratitude. That just proves even further your leadership capabilities.

Idia: I-I wouldn't go that far― …Or maybe, just a little bit further? H-Hee Fheeheeheehee!

Idia: But also, I don't want to deal with failing a quest because some loser was placed in charge, so.

Idia: So I guess next time I have to put together a party, if my friend isn't available, I'll just have to lead them all again!

Idia: Wheeew, it's hard being so awesome～!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Silver: This is a painting of a lion, warthog, and a meerkat, I see. The three of them are singing a song and seem to get along well.

Idia: Ain't they waaay too upbeat, to be able to sing while walking like that? Like, this painting shows the lion crown prince that was forced to leave his own country…

Idia: It's showing him singing along with some friends he ended up making, while he tries to ignore that pain, right?

Idia: Lucky him, that they chose to glorify his hiatus from his royal duties like this. Tch!

Silver: I've heard that singing can raise one's spirits. Perhaps they all wanted to brighten their own moods.

Idia: Speaking of singing to take your mind off stuff, there was this one time when I was a kid when my little brother was too scared to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night…

Idia: So we would go there while singing the theme song of our favorite anime together.

Idia: Eh, anyway, whatever their reason for singing, having that moon in the background composition like that's super moving. Kinda like what you'd see in an MV.

Silver: Em-vee…?

Idia: Eh… Y-You don't know what a music video is? It's a video recording that goes along with music and lyrics…

Silver: Ah, so you call those MVs. I understand.

Idia: I-If you feel like checking out some MVs sometime, I'd recommend the idol group "Precipice Moirai."

Idia: Premo's MVs are so awesome that you could watch them 100 times and never tire of them…!

Silver: 100 times… That's quite a lot. Is that generally something you'd watch so often?

Idia: A true fan would absolutely! More like, it's way too insolent to think that you could truly appreciate their MV with only one watch!

Idia: The first watch is all about enjoying the song and video in its entirety. The next three times the focus is shifted to checking out each of the three members' dance moves and expressions one by one.

Idia: Next, there's the actual composition of the MV, and digging deep into the actual message of the video… At a minimum, it should be watched ten times.

Idia: On top of all that, Premo's super casual MVs can put even a film director to shame!

Idia: There's no way to fully comprehend their art with only a couple viewings. That's why it needs to be viewed hundreds of times.

Silver: I had no idea their work was that deep… It may prove useful in training me better in emotional expressions, and perhaps could even be incorporated into the academy's music courses.

Idia: N-No, I mean, you don't gotta go that far… But it's great that you know just how awesome they are.

Idia: Even between us Premo fans, there's always those who still don't understand their art at all…

Idia: Every time a new MV comes out, there's always people saying stuff like, "She got the most screen time," or "She's definitely the manager's favorite," and the like…

Idia: But does that have anything to do with the quality of their work? It doesn't, right? They don't care about understanding the heart or essence of the songs.

Silver: I see… I feel as though I have learned a lot from you, Idia-senpai.

Silver: When we return to campus, I will look into, hm… Premo? Yes, Premo's music videos.

Idia: Eh, no way!? S-S-Seriously!? They have all their latest MVs on their official Magicam account!

Idia: P-PLEASE WATCH THEM! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Ooh, here's the Sea Witch floating in the darkness… She's got a nice, bewitching smile going, too.

Silver: This is a painting depicting the scene of when the Sea Witch drew up a contract.

Silver: If I recall, it was said that the contract was so unbreakable that even a powerful spear couldn't rip through it.

Idia: I mean, you'd think that just having a contract that doesn't tear apart or bleed ink in water is strong enough...

Silver: Perhaps the contents of the contract was dire enough she did not wish it broken.

Idia: Who cares about the contents, the material of the contract is way more interesting. How high of a defense stat did it even have to not get ripped up by a spear?

Idia: But I totally get it, everyone wants to make invincible things every so often.

Silver: I cannot say I understand, but… What sort of thing would you make, Idia-senpai?

Idia: Like a "game console power cord that can never be taken away," or something like that… A-Actually, I tried to make something like that when I was a kid.

Idia: Whenever I'd play video games all day and into night, my mother would end up hiding all my cords.

Idia: If all she did was hide them, I could just make myself a new one, but she'd hide the cord materials as well. Totally overboard!

Idia: So I had a thought. I had to do something so she couldn't hide it!

Silver: I can only imagine your mother was concerned for your health… Did you never consider quitting your games?

Idia: Why would I? Ahh, but I really did burn the midnight oil like a little worker bee back then.

Idia: Like, I'd put a motion sensor on it, so that the cord could automatically run away from whoever was holding it...

Idia: Or I'd make the cord transparent so it couldn’t be found, or attach a homing function to it so it'd come back on its own…

Idia: And finally, after many failed attempts… I finally did it…!

Idia: I MADE A TRANSPARENT POWER CORD THAT ONLY RECOGNIZES THE AUTHORIZED USER!!

Silver: I do not really comprehend what that is, but… It is amazing that you invented something with your own two hands.

Idia: Nope, not at all.

Idia: My family also has a real stubborn genius, and every time I came up with some tech, it'd quickly get shot down by some kind of countermeasure...

Idia: And it took me a few months of that game of cat and mouse before I realized I should just convert my game console to wireless.

Idia: Hmph… But the peace and quiet that came from switching to wireless didn't last long at all...

Idia: Soon after, the Final Boss appeared: a device capable of disabling all wireless tech within a 10-meter radius!

Idia: Well, all the experience I got developing the motion sensing and automatic functions helped when I was putting Ortho together…

Idia: So I guess all that trial and error wasn't for nothing.

Silver: Even if you can picture your ideal outcome, it is rather difficult to actually put into action.

Silver: However, you have made real many of your thoughts. I can respect that.

Idia: Wai― What're you trying to say all a sudden? Getting complimented to my face randomly like that is a little scary… W-Wait, is this all a plot to beguile me!?

Silver: A plot? ...Hm, I see it has gotten late. I have kept you for some time. My apologies.

Silver: I am grateful to have heard such wonderful stories from you. Well then, I shall be on my way.

Idia: Whew… I'm exhausted having to actually talk to people for the first time in a while… Ah, this is…

Idia: It's the hero from that one myth. Look at his sparkling expression… He looks like he totally believes the future ahead of his is bright.

Idia: Life doesn't always go as swimmingly as you hope, though… Hope he doesn't get too excited that he gets carried away by the river of the underworld!

Requested by Anonymous.

[itsmebytch001]

another one, Yandere dad Aaron sends Miles after Y/N after she sneaks out the house to go to a party, her punsiment in being trapped in her room with out internet, only miles and her dad.

Hello Me.

My Cousin As My Keeper-> Part One

Summary: Aaron inlists the help of Mile's to track you down after you sneak off to a party.

Warnings: Over bearing yandere family tingz.

You really thought you had made a good slip away, making it out the building and onto the streets with out your Dad hearing was quite the feet, so you ran down the pavment to the end of your road where you met your good friend Musa, and together to slid off into the club scene of New York with your brillantly made fake ID's.

Meanwhile, Your Dad Aaron had been chilling on the sofa when you slid off, if it weren't for the TV blaring he might made heard you. It was only when he called for you did he notice, you were being awafully quite.

Aaron: "Hey Y/N, you want some hot coco?"

...

odd, she's never asleep this time...

Aaron: "Ay, Y/n you want some coco or not?"

Still, nothing.

he approached your door cautiously, as if you would pounce out at him at any moment at him, he slowly turns the knob of the door, opening to reveal you asleep in bed, he gose to give you a shake, only to realise it's not you, its a damm pillow.

He then notices your window half open, maybe he should put bars on them.

He sighs to himself, pondering round your room before he calls you, he knows you aren't going to pick up beacuse what self preserving teen would?

Hi, Its Y/N Leave me a message

So he then texts Miles:

Meanwhile, Miles is at home, sitting by his drawing board throwing up some concept art, he hears a bing and gose to check his phone.

Uncle Aaron > Uncle Aaron: ay Miles you know were Y/N At? Miles: No is everying okay Uncle Aaron: she off again Miles: in her star girl era Uncle Aaron: what Miles: nothin Uncle Aaron: you think you could find her for me Miles: i guess Uncle Aaron: thx

Now Miles didn't really want to have to go out looking for you, or harass you over text to find you like he had done before, honestly he thought it best just to let you do your thing, but his uncle was so afraid of something happeing to you he would always conact Miles to find you.

And at this point, Miles was like a PI with the sole mission of finding you, and each time he did, at a party, a club or with a guy, espically with a guy he became more frustrated with you, running off for hours at a time, wasting his time to go out and find you.

Sometimes it felt like an attention game, like you would go off and do reckless things for your Dad's, Miles and your Aunt ad Uncle's attention, like going off with a guy you barley knew while drunk, or sleeping over at stranges house.

Sometimes it felt like hide n seek.

And to be honest, beacuse he always won, and I mean always, pulling you out that guys car by your hair, or breaking into that strangers house waking you up and pulling you back home, he kinda liked playing, as long as he got their in time before you actually did something stupid.

So the game begins.

He starts with the basics, calling you...

ring

ring

ring

Hi, its Y/N leave me a message

He dosen't bother texting, he know's you won't answer.

So he checks your snap maps.

Youv'e turned them off, youre getting better...

He checks your story, nothing.

He checks your streaks, also nothing.

So now he's getting into the complicated stuff, contacting youre friends.

Mile's was fond of some of your mates, but felt indiffrent to most.

You see for awhile, it was just you two, cousins raised as siblings against the world, but once you got to high school and drifted a bit, you made a whole group of girl friends and he was now a secondary person in youre life.

He knew ratinally it was wrong to be jealous of you having friends, but he felt like they took you away from your family, from him.

He began seeing after school hours, hanging out at youre house, or in a park or people watching, maybe even throwing up art with youre Dad.

Then it was only on weekends, usually Saturday where you would catch up on youre week.

And now, here you two are at 17, and he only ever see's you maybe twice a month? and of course Holidays but that was all.

That's not counting these stunts of yours, of course.

He opens up his contacts to try and fenesse some information out of them.

Musa (Y/N) > Miles: yo Musa, you at this party Musa: ...? Miles: The party with Y/N u with her Musa: soz no Miles: do u know where it is Musa: nope, but Ayesha probs will Miles: kk

Ayesha (Y/N) >

Miles: Ayesha u with Y/N

Read 4 mins ago

Miles:...?

Read 7 mins ago

He knew she was probablly ignoring him, she really didn't like Miles, thought he was over bearing and possesive for a cousin and called him out for it.

Miles: helllloooooooooooooo

Read 2 mins ago

She was a lost cause, so to the next one.

Flora (Y/N)>

Miles: Ay Flo u know where Y/N at? Flora: dont call me Flow my name is Flo-RA Miles: jeez just a nick name chill Miles: U know where Y/N at Flora: dont do that Miles: what Flora: give me a nick name like were friends Miles: it isn't that deep chill Flora: ugh

Flora aslo didn't like Miles, she just was to meek to say it.

next one...

Tecna (Y/N)> Miles: hey Tecna: I already know what u want, the asnwer is i'm not with her, i don't know where she is, but I know she went with Stella so she's safe. Miles: damm okay

God, Miles didn't like Stella, she always said she's look out for you at parties but never did, mainly beacuse she was to damm high to realise what ever was happening, sometimes she was so out of it he had to get her home as well as you.

Stella(Y/N) > Miles: Ay Stella Miles: Stelllaaaaaaaa Miles: Helloooooooooo Miles: STELLA

ugh, he'd have to call her, wouldn't he...

Ringing Stella (Y/N) Ring Ring Ring Hiiiii, Its Stella can't come to the phone right now but leave me a message!

He hated my whiny fucking voice, but if she didn't asnwer, who would?

Bloom!

But He knew Bloom also didn't like him, so he might have to lie to her just a bit.

Bloom(Y/N) Miles: Ay Bloom u know where this praty at? Bloom: and why would i tell you Miles: I got a voice message from Y/N sounded bad Bloom:...? Miles: Some guy being creepy Miles: she had obvs been drinking Miles: She wanted me to come pick her up but wont answer my calls Bloom: U sure she asked you to come pick her up? Miles: Yeah? Bloom: U sure this isn't just u being wierldy obessive over your cousin Bloom: like when u crahsed my praty a few weeks back Bloom: U broke into my house? Miles: listen i just wanna help her Miles: and i did not 'break into' your house, i didn't steal anything Bloom: U CAME IN MY WINDOW Miles: U LEFT IT OPEN Bloom: WHAT IS WRONG WITH U

What to say...What would be the right thing to say to get her to tell her where you were.

...

...

...

Ringing Bloom (Y/N) ring ring

Bloom: "...what?"

Miles: "Listen, I'm not trying to start anything with you or youre little girl group but my family is out there, drunk as hell and with Stella who we both know, has a problem"

He could sense the eye roll through the phone.

Miles: " And this guy who keeps coming onto her dosen't seem to be letting up, least that's what he said in her voice message"

Bloom: "Mile's, I am not an idiot, I know a lie when I hear it"

Miles: "Bloo-"

Bloom: " I know you want too look out for Y/N and that's fine, but were 17 she can do what she want's, but you always turn up and fuck things up"

Miles: "I don't fuck things up for her, I stop her from fucking up the way you, her friends should"

Bloom: " Maybe, Mile's you should let her make some mistakes, instead of tracking her down like a stalker"

She hangs up.

Miles: "Ughhhhhhhhh" he groans alone in his room.

There's a knock on the door.

Rio: "Mijo, you okay?"

Miles: "Yeah I'm Good, just stressed"

Rio: "Okay baby"

He taps his pen, again and again against the table.

...Brandon?

Brandon was the protective type, is Stella was at a party, he was there, looming over her like tree.

And they were mutuals on Snapchat.

He logs back on his phone and onto snapchat where he see's Brandon has his Snap maps on... and he sees you on Brandon's story, danicng on a damm table drunk, again.

He types the adress in his phone and begins to walk to the house in question.

Eventually he find's himself outside a tall block, the top floor was bright flashing lights, to he climbs the fire escape and slinks into the house, sourounded by his peers drinking, smoking or other he scans the room for you, or at least Stella since she should know where you are, in theroy.

And he did spot her.

Her bright blonde hair sitting on Brandon's lap, sipping on something. he walks up to her, and as soon as Stella see's him, she's rolling her eyes, and whipsers to Brandon.

Miles: "Ay Stella, You know where Y/N is?"

Stella: "Miles, what the hell is wrong with you?" She said clapping between each word.

My god she's dramatic

Stella leanded over to her boyfriend.

Stella: "this is the weird creepy cousin I told you about"

Miles: "Excuse me?"

Stella: "The one that keeps ruining all our fun"

Miles: "Stella I don't want to start anything with you, I just want to know where Y/N is, m,kay?"

Brandon stood up, he's only a few inches taller than Mile's but he notices.

Stella: "He's the guy to broke into Bloom's house and dragged Y/N like a crazy person"

He stand's between Stella and Miles.

Brandon: "I think you should go"

Miles: "I'm not trying to start anything, I just need to get my cousin and go"

Brandon: "Maybe she dosen't want to with you?" He says, stepping closer to Miles..

Miles: " i think you need to back off, kinda getting in my personal space"

Brandon: "And I think you need to leave"

Mile's know he can take him, he's spiderman for god's sake he could snap him, put he dosen't want to create problems.

Just as Brandon gets a bit too close to Miles, he feel's its about to happen...

Miles: "You need to back up" He says, putting his hands infront of him, palms open.

...

...

...

Y/N: "Mile's?" he looks over at you leaning over the door frame of a door, clearly drunk and maybe worse in a little black dress, holding a bottle of wine.

Miles: "Y/N?"

He rushes over to you, pushing past all the other party goers.

Miles: "You need to come with me"

Y/N: "Oh my GOD why can't you just leave me alone?" you slur, very drunk

Miles: "Your Dad sent me"

Y/N: "And youre just his lap dog?"

Miles: "Okay, come on now let's go"

Y/N: "No"

Miles: "come ON" He says, grabbing your wrist.

Y/N: "NO" You rip your hand from his.

Miles: "Y/N, I will call my Dad and have him shut this whole thing down unless you come with me, and everyone here will hate you, beacuse it will be your damm fault so lets go"

Defeated and blackmailed, you began to stumble out with him, sadly waving Stella goodbye and she swore off Miles.

Stella: "Youre a fucking werido Miles!"

Once outside, you are so drunk you flop onto the floor.

Miles: "Jesus Y/N, why do you do this?"

Y/N: "Just leave me here to die" You groan.

Miles: "Come on now, get up"

Y/N: "NOooooo, youv'e done it again"

Miles: "What?"

Y/N: "Ruined my night"

Miles: " Y/N I don't want to talk about this right now"

Y/N: "You are destorying my life!"

Miles: "What beacuse I wont just let you get drunk or high with your friends?"

Y/N: "Miles, if you had friends, you would do the same"

Miles: "No i wouldn't"

Y/N: "Why's that?"

Miles: "Beacuse i'm a selfish bitch just want's to drink, fry her brain and abaondon her family"

Y/N: "fuck you Miles"

Miles: "Get off the damm floor Y/N It's filthy"

Y/N: "I hate you"

Miles: "get off the fucking floor"

Y/N: "No"

Miles sighs to himself, before he starts to drag you by your feet.

He could carry you, but no.

Eventually when the hard pavement floor began to scrape away at your face, you pull yourself and and slowly walk with Mile's back home.

With every stumble and fall back Mile's is there to catch you, to pull you back up, as you lean your head onto his arm for support. And eventually when you two made it home, he helped you up the stairs and into the your bed, plopping you down as the alchohol took it's effect whisking you to sleep, he tucked you in as his Uncle Aaron emegred into your doorway.

Miles: " she's unconcious, no point to scould her now, wait till morning when she has a hangover"

Aaron: "She looks like a damm clown with all that makeup on" he mumrred before disapearing down the hall.

And he was right, he could your foundation on the pillow, your smuged gloss and masscara running down your face.

So he went off into your bath room to soak a makeup remover pad, and while you were alseep began to wipe away your makeup. He knew it was strange, but also knew your skin would be in a state if he didn't.

So he wiped off all the makeup, and really all he wanted to do was share the bed with you, stay up late and whipser to each other like you used to, before you two grew apart. But he knew it would upset you if you woke up next to him suddently.

He wondered if she'd remember this tonight, of it would be a black out like so many other nights.

He wished you good night, and left.

[sports-on-sundays]

Can u write some Marc guiu where the reader is insecure about her stretch marks and during s*x Marc noticed she was trying to cover them and he moved her hands started kissing the stretch marks telling her she’s perfect/ beautiful and he loves her.. x

perfect / Marc Guiu

Summary: Marc x female!partner!reader - Marc helps you with your insecurities.

Warnings: insecurity, anxiety

Author's Note: I decided to change it a little bit (I don't write sex scenes), but I've still got the gist of your request. Thanks so much for the request! <3

Requested?: Yes, by this anon and by @itskaleahh

You lay in bed on a hot summer night with your lover, Marc Guiu, wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. He sighs, murmuring, "It's so hot; I want to cuddle you but it's like thirty-three degrees and I feel like I'm going to melt..." His eyes flutter open. You've been cuddling for hours, and the room just seems to be getting hotter and hotter.

"Well, that's a summer night in southern Spain for you," you sigh, pulling your hair away from your sweaty neck. You're on holiday together, before football season starts back up full swing again.

You glance to Marc, though, and notice him studying your body with intense eyes. You suddenly have a very sudden moment of insecurity, unable to read the expression in his eyes.

Is he judging my body or something? your brain suddenly intrudes.

You swallow as he continues studying you. His eyes seem to linger on your thighs and lower stomach especially. You glance there, and suddenly feel an anxious jolt when you realise,

Is he looking at my stretch marks...?!

You immediately, without another thought, pull the sheet up over your legs and wrap your arms around your sides and stomach.

Marc meeting looks up, meeting your eyes, and asks groggily, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm, uh, actually... not that hot."

Marc just stares for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed, before saying, "Y/n. It's smoking hot. I can see the beads of sweat on your neck. There is no way you're 'not that hot.' I can see otherwise. So what's the problem? Why're you covering yourself up?"

You gulp. "I... uh... No reason. I just feel more comfy with the sheet on."

"Are you embarrassed? Y/n, you know I think you're beautiful. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"Yes, something is!" The Spaniard says, suddenly sitting up. "So tell me, Y/n. What's wrong?" His eyes soften as he prods gently, "It's okay; I won't judge you. You know I won't. You know I would never."

You sigh and glance away as Marc gently puts his arms on yours. You allow him to lift your arms off your stomach. He's silent for a few seconds, before taking the sheet down and saying, "Y/n... Is it your stretch marks, love?"

You gulp. "I... I guess."

"Y/n, sweetheart..." he says, even gentler. "You know you don't have to be embarrassed about those. You're beautiful, baby, and they're beautiful, too, okay?"

"No, they're not... No one says that..."

"Well, I do. I think ever single little part of you is beautiful. And to me, your stretch marks aren't scars. They're art. Because you, my love, are a work of art. Every single part of you."

You look at him, swallowing, biting your lip. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better... I saw you looking at them..."

"Yes, I was admiring them! I was admiring you, okay, baby? You're lovely, and I can't get enough of just looking at you."

You stare, still not completely convinced, still hesitant in your insecurity.

But he whispers, "I'll show you, baby." He leans down and starts peppering your lower stomach with little kisses, saying, "You're a lovely, beautiful, perfect princess."

"Oh, stop," you giggle a bit. "That tickles."

"I won't stop until you believe as much as I do that you're most perfect woman on this whole planet..." he breathes, moving to kissing all down your stretch marks on your thighs, continuing whispering praises and sweet-nothings, until you completely melt.

"Marc," you whisper, sniffling a little. "You're so sweet..."

He looks up, his fingers still gently stroking your stretch marks. "Do you believe me, now?" he softly asks, teasingly smiling. "That you're a goddess, and every single part of you is what makes you flawless?"

You laugh and wrap your arms around him, pulling him up against your chest in a hug, giggling. "Yes, Marc. Yes, I believe you now."

"Oh, good," he grins, that adorable little smile. You gaze into each other's eyes for a few seconds, both your faces softening by the second, before Marc whispers simply, "I love you, Y/n..." and leans in for a kiss on your lips.

[ropes3amthoughts]

Dungeon Meshi Subnautica AU. There’s no spoilers if you’ve finished the whole anime, but there are lots of spoilers if you haven’t played Subnautica. Do you guys see my vision?

This is some old DunMeshi Subnautica AU art and stuff. I was going to post this when I drew some more stuff, but this has just been sitting around in my camera roll for a while so I’m just gonna post it like this. These are like 2 months old and have some of the first times I drew like most of the characters so they’re not that good lmao maybe I’ll draw some newer versions some time.

Marcille likes seafood, but she doesn’t want to eat aliens. (She ends up eating the Peeper)

I made Izutsumi more fish-like so she could still have dynamic movements and such in the underwater setting. It got super blurry so here’s what the notes (from left to right) say:

“Think she’ll be more fishy to fit into the world better,” “Underwater. Floating,” “On land. Soggy,” “Swims like a fish,” “No room for bow :(“ “Gills,” “Still has claws also webbed hands,” “Flipper parts [are] white,” “Scales and fur! Not the best combo…” “Thick tail for swimming,” “Her feet are flatter like flippers.”

Some closeups because the quality sucks:

I imagine Senshi would be a Degasi survivor and have a greenhouse similar to Marguerit’s

Sea Dragon Falin 🔥

Very messy Reaper encounter idea. Loosely based on the “Ohh, hello, handsome man!” post. Don’t ask how they can all cram into a single Sea Moth just pretend it’s able to seat a bunch of people

Lmao I even started writing a fanfic about it. Here’s the description lmao:

Delicious in the Depths

Description: After the Aurora is destroyed and the Canaries declared they will not be making any recovery efforts, Laios has to take matters into his own hands to retrieve his sister, who had been onboard the Aurora when it had mysteriously blown up. With the help of Marcille and Chilchuck, the three are able to sneak onto 4546B in search of Falin. There’s only one problem: An alien weapon gunned down their ship and rendered them completely stranded on the alien planet, which consists of nothing but ocean for kilometers on end. (A Dungeon Meshi and Subnautica/Below Zero crossover)

I didn’t get very far in writing it but if y’all want me to like post it or something I can. This next thing isn’t the fanfic it’s just kind of a ramble on how the AU would work.

My kind of basic thoughts are that the party would function kind of the same as they in the DunMeshi universe, but instead of going into the dungeon they explore different planets. Falin would be on board the Aurora, which ends up mysteriously crash landing on planet 4546B. The Canaries (they take the role of Alterra) say that they don’t know what happened, but there won’t be a recovery effort because the planet is too dangerous. Laios decides he will find his sister when the Canaries refuse to make an effort and Marcille and Chilchuck join him. They end up crashlanding onto 4546B (sort of like Robin in Below Zero) and they would land in the Kelp Zone near the South of the map to put them closer to the Floating Island because that’s where they would find Senshi. They would find survivor recordings, some of which are from Falin, and try to track her down. The planet is full of mana, making revival possible, but it also harbors dangerous alien creatures (they are still the same creatures from Subnautica). I wasn’t quite sure how Thistle would work since having control over a whole planet is a bit more difficult compared to a dungeon, but I was thinking he could be a Precursor and he’s in charge of things like the Quarantine Enforcement. I also thought it would be cool if Falin was a chimera mixed with a Sea Dragon Leviathan, so I made that happen even though it doesn’t make much sense as to how it would happen. There’s so many characters in Dungeon Meshi, but Subnautica is very isolated, so I’m not so sure how Dungeon Meshi events would translate into the Subnautica universe. I guess a lot of people would be crashlanding.

If anybody likes Subnautica and Dungeon Meahi and has any ideas, feel free to share! I’d love to hear what you think!

The rest of this was anime safe, but this last part has Major Dungeon Meshi Manga and Major Subnautica spoilers:

Maybe the Winged Lion would be the Sea Emperor Leviathan but if she was evil then? He’ll lure the gang down and then try to leave the planet maybe and he needs to be stopped? The Winged Lion isn’t really evil, but he’s the antagonist, you know what I mean? Plus the way the ghosts communicate with Laios and the way the Winged Lion talks to Laios in that dream is kind of similar to how the Sea Emperor communicates with Riley. Or maybe the Winged Lion is somehow responsible for the Kharaa bacteria? I need to work on it still lmao

[scapingthebottomofthebarrel]

Hello!

I saw that you were accepting requests so can I request a Tom Holland ( Spider-Man) x a reader who faints a lot. Like she blacks out multiple times a day. How overprotective would Spidey be? If you can, then maybe can please incorporate Steve Rogers in the story too. I have been obsessed with them..♥️

Please delete if this uncomfortable or bad🙏

I had fun writing this! I hope you like it!

Emergency Tylenol

“I forgot the Tylenol. We need to go back. Actually wait a second. I think…yup! Secret back up Tylenol!” You can’t help but smile as you watch Peter mutter to himself and dig around in his bag. You watch him lay out all the supplies from his bag. “Ok so we’ve got secret back up Tylenol, ibuprofen, ice packs, bandaids, neosporin, your emergency meds, and two water bottles.” He says proudly.

“Peter I promise you don’t need to carry all of this around with you. I have some stuff in my bag. I’ll be fine.” You insist for what must be the millionth time today.

“I absolutely do, sweetheart. As your boyfriend it’s my swore duty to take care of you and I can’t do that if I’m not fully equipped.”

“Peter, we’re literally in a private limo on our way to the Avengers Compound. I don’t think I could be any better taken care of.” He seems to consider your words for a moment before shrugging and opening the bainaid container to reorganize them.

“You could be. Trust me, I keep stats. You’re-“

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black. When you open your eyes you find yourself on a bed in a room that you slowly recognize at Peter’s bedroom in the compound. You look around for any sign of him but only find a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a note the simply reads

‘Boom. Prepared.’

You can’t help but smile at your boyfriends antics. The ache in your head prompts you to take the pills. You quickly finish the water bottle and slowly get up as to not black out again. After a moment when you’re sure you won’t faint you make your way to the nearest lounge.

“There they are!” Steve says with a soft smile.

“How long was I out for?” You ask as you plop down onto the couch next to him.

“About 20 minutes.”

“I’m coming back around quicker. That’s nice.” Steve nods as he fishes out his phone

“Peter’s in the lab with Tony. I told him I’d text him when you woke up.” He explains while he slowly types on his phone. “You’d think the kid didn’t know what was going on.” He says it with a fond smile.

“We’ve been working on him not being two inches from my face when I wake up.” You say with a laugh. You’ve known Peter since 7th grade and you began dating your sophomore year of high school. Despite that he still treats each black out with meticulous care. “Oh! Guess what!” You say excitedly remembering the whole reason for you coming to the compound today.

“What?” Steve asks with just as much enthusiasm.

“I entered you in an art contest and you won first prize! I submitted that picture you drew of Peter and I.” You quickly scroll through your email looking for the one about the contest results. “Well there not actually a prize, but it’s nice to be acknowledged ya know?” Steve chuckles and leans back a bit to clearly see the screen you’ve shoved in his face. As he reads the email you hear the soft sound of the door to the lounge opening.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about sweetheart.” Peter says as he comes to lean on the arm rest next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Well it’s four o’clock and I’ve only blacked out three times today, so pretty good.” Peter gives you a once over before nodding.

“Ima have to steal her for some studying Captain Roger’s.” Your eyes go wide at this.

“Oh no we have that test on Monday!” You groan sinking into your seat.

“Yup. So we gotta get some snacks and get to studying.” Peter takes your hand and pulls you up from the couch before leading you towards one of the kitchens.

“See ya later Steve! Don’t forget to revel in your victory!” You shout as you walk away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Peter have been studying for two hours and you’re starting to feel a little light headed from the stress.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Peter suggests before you can voice your discomfort. You smile gratefully knowing that Peter saw the signs of a black out starting to appear. “Sweetheart, you can tell me when something is getting too much.” He reminds you and you both close your books and migrate from the table to the beanbags where all your snacks are.

“I know. I’m just so worried about this test. I know I’ll probably do fine, but it’s such a big grade.” You sigh as you poke a straw into a juice pouch.

“We’ve been studying for two weeks. We’re gonna do great. It’s Friday why don’t we relax?” You ponder his words for a moment before nodding. “Great. I’ll dim the lights and grab your meds. You pick a movie.” Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you would find someone. You’ve blacked out three times today and each time Peter was nothing but caring. You take a second to watch Peter as he grabs you some water and your meds before meticulously diming the lights to the setting he knows is perfect when you’re starting to feel faint.

“I love you.” You sigh happily. Peter nearly drops what he’s holding.

“Wh-what was that?” He asks slowly.

“I love you. I never knew I could love someone this much.” You explain. “I’m so happy it’s you I’m in love with.” Peter gets a dopy grin on his face and hops over the couch you sitting on to be next to you. He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses you all over.

“I love you too!” He practically squeals. You can’t help but giggle and you two slowly settle in on the couch. “It was the emergency Tylenol wasn’t it? No one can resist.” He adds after a moment. You can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Yes Peter, it was the emergency Tylenol.” You and Peter both know that this is it for both of you. No other love could ever feel like this.

[poppy-metal]

ahh that pretty woman au:((( would she be shy when she’s sober and avoid talking about what happened or would she just blurt everything like she did when she was drunk

shes definitely mortified when she sobers up - guilty too, for throwing herself at him and saying the things she said. she's embarrassed but her good conscious makes her want to apologize - she ends up making him food. she likes cooking, she makes him steak and side greens and even a pie - like patricks her husband - but she doesn't think about that. when patrick eventually comes back she has it all ready and waiting for him - her eyes hopeful. if she can feed patrick and take care of him and make him feel good then she'll be happy - she doesn't want anything else from him. she doesn't.

it's not the first time she's cooked a big meal for patrick, she does it alot - but it's the first time he's not eager to just dig in. he's still thinking about the other night. and he knows this is as much about avoidance as it is about apologizing. he bets she wants him to let her sweep it under the rug. pamper him and and be his friend -

but friends don't get on their knees and ask to suck your cock.

he approaches her - says. "you look better."

she does. obviously flushed - but less miserable and pathetic.

she brushes her hands down her little modest dress. it flutters just under her knees and he likes how it teases his imagination. makes him want to drag the fabric up - with his teeth.

"I- I feel better. I'm sorry about last night. I was - I wasn't in a good headspace, obviously. but -" she shakes her head. "- that wasn't a reason to snap at you and say the things I did."

he'd assumed she'd brush over it - and he could let her if he was a nicer person. but he's not.

he raises an eyebrow. "you mean when you slutshamed me?" his voice doesn't let on that the comment had stung when she'd said it. he shrugged. "you weren't wrong."

her lips tug down in a frown.

"I was." she insists. "whatever you.... whatever you do with your body, it doesn't define you. I of all people should know that. I guess I was just feeling - I was feeling small and undesirable and took it out on you. I'm sorry, patrick."

patrick swallows. he doesn't think anyone's seriously apologized to him in his life. either he's the one that fucked up - or they just can't bring themselves to admit that patricks a person worth apologizing too. he thinks briefly of art and tashi. how they'd probably both rather eat glass than mumble those very words.

it hits his chest - he's quiet for longer than he means to be, thinking. you look more and more guilty and he finally says, "thank you."

you sigh and your shoulders droop with the tension you'd been holding in your body. you start to turn around, probably to get to fixing the table - but patricks not done.

you're at the stove, in the middle of popping it open to check on the roast when he says from behind you -

"and what about the part where you wanted to suck my cock so bad you got on your knees for it? are you sorry for that?"

your hand freezes. your whole body freezes. you don't turn around. staring at your hand curled around the handle of the oven.

your instinct is to hide. to say it was just a drunken rambling, but you think about his fingers digging into your arms. his angry eyes and the words he'd said. they could have meant nothing. said in the heat of the moment, to make a point.

but what was an apology if you lied? probably patrick just saw you as a friend. probably he pitied you. but after what you'd done, he deserved the truth.

"that part.... I shouldn't have come onto you how I did. like that."

he says your name. something about it ignites a visceral reaction within you - your whole body heating up right to the tips of your ears. you turn around, because it was the unspoken ask. order. even though you keep your eyes down, wringing your hands nervously in front of you.

"how would you come onto me sober?"

you feel like lava is under your skin. your hands, palms sweating with nerves - you brush your hair away from your face. swallow. the room feels hot and stuffy.

"i..... I don't know." you admit honestly. "I've never.... I'm not.... I've never done something like that...."

you've never tried to seduce someone before. or been bold. you've dreamed about being the kind of woman who could go after what she wants, but you have no idea how to be that person.

patrick drags his bottom lip between his teeth - watching you squirm. he enjoys it way too fucking much. you have no idea how fucking sexy you are and it drives him crazy.

"do you want to?" he asks. and when you look up at him, confused - he elaborates. "do you want to suck my cock."

you gasp. he doesn't stop there though, he walks forward, backing you up until your hips hit the kitchen counter behind you. he looks down at you - at your fat bottom lip he's thought about doing disgusting things too.

"because if it was just a drunk fluke, you need to tell me now. but I don't think it was -" you're looking at his mouth, almost in a trance. your chest heaves up and down. "- I think you've been dying to wrap that sweet mouth of yours around a long hard cock for awhile." he dips his head a little closer, nose almost bumping against yours. "I think you want me to put you on your knees and use your mouth like a dirty fuckin' whore. I think -" a hairs breath away from your lips now. "you want me to make a proper woman out of you. hm? you wanna feel what it's like to be wanted so bad - to be the kind of pussy that drives a man fucking insane."

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"you do." he adds, forehead touching yours. "you drive me fucking crazy."

you let out something that sounds like a sob - and then you close the distance between your lips.

[ageingfangirl2]

No, You! No, You! Sanji (OPLA)

You are passionate about something and Sanji is passionate about you. The rest of the crew either find your interactions cute or infuriating, depending on the day. Neither you nor Sanji care, because you're lost in one another. Sanji x Reader FLUFF

SANJI

I was in the kitchen preparing lunch while y/n sat at the counter drawing in their sketchbook. Usually, I liked to be alone but the sound of a pencil on paper and my cooking was nice. They were the smallest member of the crew, but don't be fooled by their cuteness because they packed a mean punch in a fight.

The two of us just clicked, I was passionate about food while they were passionate about art. Most people rolled their eyes when we rambled about our passions but they listened to me and vice versa.

'Sanji, I finished my sketch, do you want to see it?' they ask, excitement in their voice.

I smile, and take the pot off the stove, before turning around, 'I never get tired of looking at your art.'

They push the sketchbook across the counter, 'I tried something different with the shading, I wanted to make it look more realistic like you're not even looking at a drawing but the actual scene,' they gush, talking a mile a minute.

I was slightly taken aback in a good way because it was like I was actually seeing myself prepare the vegetables again from earlier, 'wow, this is amazing you have so much talent,' I complimented.

Their whole face turned red, it was endearing watching them get all flustered when they got complimented while they also waved their hands in front of them, 'It's okay, I wouldn't go too overboard with the praise.'

I put the sketchbook down and walk around the counter until I'm standing right next to them, and squeeze their cheek playfully, 'You're too adorable, how can you be this adorable? It should be illegal.'

They pout, 'If I'm adorable can I get a taste before lunch? I love your cooking Sanji.'

I release their cheek quickly clear my throat and turn away, not wanting them to see my ears starting to flush at their compliment. We were like two peas in a pod.

'err sure, let me grab you a spoon. no telling Luffy.'

I was making a simple vegetable soup. I dip a spoon into the pot and the next thing I know y/n is by my side eyes wide as they stare at the soup. My face didn't go red like theirs, more of a light pink, I hoped they enjoyed it because I'd added some herbs to change the taste.

I hold the spoon up, 'open up.'

They open their mouth and happily accept me feeding them. This was a common thing for us to do, sharing and feeding one another food, but to an outsider, it could look a little odd.

They smack their lips together, eyes closed for a second before reopening them and grinning up at me, 'Wow Sanji, how did you do that? I would never think of adding herbs to elevate the dish's taste. You're amazing, your cooking is so much better than my art.'

I shake my head, 'You're literally amazing y/n, so much more talented than me.'

They push me lightly, 'no, you.'

'No, you,' I laugh.

They stick their tongue out, 'No, you Sanji.'

I close the space between us which wasn't much and lick my lips, 'Be quiet and let me compliment you.'

They smirk and put their hands on their hips, 'make me.'

I cup their face in my hands and bring my lips down on theirs, they gasp and I use the distraction to slip my tongue in. At first, they tense, arms flapping at their sides, but then their hands grip the front of my shirt and they relax into the kiss letting me take control.

'HEY GUYS! ERR WOW...I'LL COME BACK...' Usopp says loudly.

I side-eye him and he hastily leaves the kitchen. I guess the moment was over. We pull out of the kiss but y/n still holds onto my shirt and chews their lip.

I put a finger under their chin to make them look at me, 'Tell me what you're thinking.'

They hum, 'I think I'd like to kiss you again Sanji. Do you have any other passions or talents I don't know about?'

The smirk never leaves my lips as I answer them seriously, 'Oh I have so many talents to show you. Who knows we might even find a hidden talent of yours. But lunch first.'

They nod, 'I think you scared Usopp.'

I chuckle as I peck their lips, 'it will teach all of them not to come into my kitchen without knocking.'

Lunch flew by, y/n oblivious to Usopp telling everyone about the kiss, instead chatting away while everyone stared between us. I light a cigarette and ignore the questioning and confused looks of the crew, instead focusing all my attention on y/n.

[distant-velleity]

Dancing, dresses, dashing princes—this ball sure has everything, doesn’t it?

a card i drew up for @starry-night-rose's Glimmering Soirée ^^;; voicelines, concept art, and trivia under the cut!

~

After Summon: Big, fancy events aren’t really my thing… I’d rather just blend in most of the time. But—I guess it’s fine if it’s only for one night.

Groovification: Careful—we wouldn’t want anything going wrong on the night of the ball.

Set to Home Screen: Let’s not get into any trouble, alright?

Home Transition 1: I considered wearing a dress at first, but when I thought about it… It’s too much of a hassle. That, and I’m no princess—if I stand out, it’ll be for all the wrong reasons.

Home Transition 2: Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College students gathered in one venue… I’d better be ready for a fight to break out.

Home Transition 3: You know, I was thinking—next year it’ll be Royal Sword Academy’s turn to host, right? If I’m still around by then, I want to see how they do.

Home, after login: Oh, don’t mind me… I was just practicing my dancing. I’m not one of the Princes, but—hey, why are you looking at me like that? Can’t a guy not want to humiliate himself in the ballroom? 

Home Transition (Groovification): Don’t laugh, but… I-I think I might have lost one of the shoes that came with this outfit. Shoot, Vil and Crewel are gonna kill me… 

Tap Home 1: The other Princes seem fine, but Deuce? I’ve been a little worried that the expectations of the role will be hard on him… Well, hey. I guess it takes a lot of pressure to create a diamond.

Tap Home 2: Azul’s taken to this whole hosting thing like he was made for it, basically. Like it's another business opportunity. Only… his dancing needs some work, I think.  

Tap Home 3: When you think of brilliant balls and Prince Charmings, you don’t immediately think of Yue’er—I mean, Malleus… Well, I guess he is his own version of “tall, dark, and handsome.” 

Tap Home 4: So stuffy… I’m glad I got Crewel to cast some temperature-regulating magic on his coat. How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves while sweating buckets?

Tap Home 5: …H-Hey, watch it! This outfit’s way fancier than what I normally wear, you know… I don’t want to ruin it.

Tap Home (Groovification): If you want to mingle and have fun, go on ahead without me. I don’t mind too much—I’m not a… y’know, people person.

~

here are the sketches that i made while brainstorming (yes, i was going to put yu in a dress--he would have rocked it imo but i found these really cool suits and changed my mind)

and my references that i got from pinterest :>

in regards to yu having a mostly-black outfit, i... was going to make it mostly white (since his suitor suit is the same light blue as cinderella and i didn't want to get repetitive) but no matter what i did he ended up looking too much like an RSA student 😭 and i wasn't gonna let that happen so here we are. i think the black and gold is a nice contrast regardless... especially for someone who i rarely draw in dark colors

~

last but not least-- guys i remembered my taglist :,): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @nahelenia @casp1an-sea

@boopshoops @skriblee-ksk