#GBYE

[celestialaviva]

Stickatron 6

Quote is from that one scene in One Piece during Thriller Bark

I actually genuinely don't know if Purple wouldn't join the CG's shenanigans, but for the sake of the joke he'll have to take Robin's role LMAO

His pride got shattered way too many times I guess

Full page under read more

[crowiin]

Very ill so I’m doodling link while in bed

[hajihiko]

old doodle blah blah

[f3ralbadomens]

this sweatshirt

📸: bryan kirks

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

VI.

___________________________________________________

Author's note: it's kinda crazy to me how many people have viewed my fic here and on other platforms, so just hold on for one more chapter, one more day, and Ekko will be there :] xoxo

Fifth chapter

Masterlist

___________________________________________________

You, amongst the various forms of shimmer packages, where packed tight in some sort of a vehicle, and the driver was not particularly good at his job, but you managed to come out unscathed nonetheless. When the vehicle came to a stop and some peoples started unpacking it, you knew you couldn't hide this time. So you took a box into your hands and just waltzed out, like you were unpacking it with them the whole time.

And noone seemed to actually realise you didn't belong there. Someone with a checkboard just nodded to you and pointed to a ship. You nodded back and went where they pointed to, set the box on the ground and took a deep breath, which you were holding this whole time without realizing it. You looked around, only now registering your surroundings were vastly different from the packed streets of the Undercity. You could see almost everywhere from here, high up, a long way from the nation of Zaun, as Silco's goons sometimes called it.

You shook your head, snapping back to reality and focused on the present. Others started to put their loads near your box instinctively and you studied the skip deck. Big trapdoor was placed on the back of the it, storage maybe. You went over to it and threw it open, revealing a few stairs that led into a dark, unlit room. Some barrels and boxes were lying around.

The box slid with a creaking noise, made by the old wooden planks that created the floor. You wiped your hands against each other and climbed back up. The airship looked ready to go, and there was still no sign of the rebels. You sighed and put your hands on your hips. Looks like you'll have to take matters into your own hands.

A small, golden, and carved lighter was getting played with by your fingers, your other hand was caressing a gun in a pocket of your cloak. You awaited the take off, goings over your plan one more time. The firelights were still nowhere to be seen. What a shame, oh well, whatever. You kicked the trapdoor closed and chuckled. The motors of the ship started to shake the ship a little and carried a dull sound, filling the quiet. The airship was ready to go and you'll couldn't wait any longer. Showtime.

[caressthosecheekbones]

"Just a sniff." he tells himself, eyes on the prize.

Just once. To truly know.

To thoroughly absorb the actual carnality of Alex's smell.

Henry's eyes wander to the hallway, their shared bathroom, where his friend has just disappeared.

To take a very wet, very not hot but rather cold, wet shower.

Still hot.

Henry sighs.

So hot.

His fingers twitch in the direction of the back of the couch.

Where the tanktop lies.

The sopping tanktop Alex kinda threw at him in a fit of laughter before sauntering off in his tiny running shorts to take a much needed shower.

That was honestly so hot.

Theme of the day because outside as well.

Which is why Alex's tank is positively soaked in sweat from his early morning run.

It lies there, crumpled.

Drenched, threatening to slide into the crevice between cushions and wall.

Deer-caught-in-headlights-wide eyes still fixed on the bathroom door, Henry snatches the sodden garment with slightly shaky fingers and lifts it to his face slowly.

just a tiny sniff...

It should be absolutely disgusting, he knows on an intellectual level. It is absolutely disgusting for the majority of people almost certainly.

The very idea.

And yet...

Henry grew up in a household so distant and repressed concerning any kind of physicality -

his father's death caused his mum to retreat into herself and consumed by grief she simply stopped touching anything.

Anyone.

If at all possible.

(She had been touched too deeply by love, his dad surely having been her soulmate. This or something similar Henry wrote in his diary when he was twelve. He used to be quite a bit proud of that analysis. For about three weeks.)

Not touching anyone (anymore) sadly also meant no more hugs for little Henry, no kisses to his forehead nor his cheeks.

No more tender fingers in his hair, no warm palm at his neck.

He was eight.

His older siblings accordingly too old to really conspire with and simultaneously too young and consumed by their own grief and teenage angst to act as some kind of guardian.

In his desperation Henry started stealing - borrowing - his mums scarves first, later her nightgowns.

In the beginning just for a few hours.

He felt the only way he could be touched by a person he loved, get close to them, was through memorising and basking in their scent.

One of his greatest regrets to this day was not having been able to have gotten a hold of any item of clothing his father had worn before his passing.

The older he got, the more intense and shameful his fixation on people's scent grew.

Especially people, boys,

men,

he was attracted to.

(Playing sports became important on many different levels.

Physical exertion to release the tension.

Shared locker rooms and showers to.

Release the tension. Afterwards. Alone of course.)

He never told his therapist.

To this day, his own judgement of this unusual obsession is weighing heavily enough on his shoulders already.

Henry felt he needn't bother anyone else with the weird coping mechanism his brain came up with to create a sense of closeness to people he loved and/or was attracted to.

He also never thought he would get a chance like this one right here, literally in his hands, ever.

Alex's worn shirts, t-shirts, jumpers and sweaters usually find their way to the floor immediately after having come off.

Trampled all over with street-wise sneakers and dog paws that may or may not have dug up a dead mole or two in the last week.

(While some dog-owners swear their puppy's paws smell like popcorn, Henry knows this to be untrue about David's paws specifically. Trust him on this, he actually checked.)

But this chance?

This gift?

It is here, in his very hand and more precisely already in front of his chin now.

As he can still hear the water hitting the tiles, a body moving beneath.

Don't think of his body.

Don't think of his body.

Don't think of his body.

Henry's gaze ultimately drawn to the darkened fabric in his hand.

He breathes in, once.

Twice.

His lips part and he can already smell it.

The first, sharp burst of salt.

A thick layer on the roof of his mouth.

Spices, chili and garlic, cumin lending an almost chaotic structure.

Fresh air and deodorant.

Light and inevitable underneath it all.

And cinnamon. Coffee.

Of course, coffee!

He closes his eyes, basking in the rich, heavy odour of Alex's sweat.

Brings the other hand to the garment and in an embarassing fit of desperate neediness rubs his whole bloody face in it like a cat on a slab of concrete he saw once on tiktok.

He's about to pass out from sheer pleasure.

His breathing so deep now, not enough oxygen, never enough Alex and his rabbiting heart still not satisfied.

Probably never.

This is probably the freshest from the source he will ever smell Alex. He's pretty sure.

Henry moans into the gift, the sound slightly muffled but high and desperate, unmistakably horny in its cadence.

So completely lost in the delicious melánge of different olfactoric elements Alex's body usually produces in smaller quantities and sadly half a metre away from him-

There's a gasp:

"What the -

just as he's getting to the middle notes...

- the fuck, Hen?"

Indeed; Henry thinks.

What the bloody buggering fuck.

How could he have lost track of his whereabouts?

The shower sounds?

Of time itself?

How. Why.

WHY??

His face still buried in the tanktop, he balls his fists into the material, wishing he could somehow shrink between the fibers and become one of the disgusting little bacteria Alex must think him to be now for sure.

JesusFuckingChristHolyMotherOfGoddFuckkk.

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

um. yeah. congrats you made it to the end.

All and every mistakes are mine alone as I do not have a beta reader and English is not my first language.

I don't know if this made much sense to anyone but me but I sincerely hope reading it didn't feel like a total waste of time.

I also don't know anything about when or even if the muse will instigate a heavy makeout session again like the one through which this was conceived over the course of the last days weeks.

I'm tagging @dreamsinthewitchouse because our conversation in your comment section inspired this <3 and also @mossy-fae bc we had the trauma to kink talk and it opened my eyes in a special eye-opening way. (what are words) Also @idealuk bc they liked my lil announcement ages ago this was sorta coming (I hope you don't mind.).

Last but not least @smute bestie, who was the very first person to read this (I will be proud until the end of time this was kinda your very first fanfic ever! <3)

Ok. Well. Thank you for reading and have a good one. <3

[spicyicymeloncat]

Here’s a spooky forest as a parting gift, see y’all in a week

[possuminnit]

hi I just woke up from a dream where I was cranboo and was having my wedding with ctubbo and two things we had a very organized closet and jerma985 was there m.ok night again

[seaofgoldensand]

wait it's been 143 days? 🥺

[dorinahv2]

Self care is drawing your oc with a Matsu boi

[garlicrrow]

funky monkey

[sm-writes-chaos]

my ocs really are just facets of myself holy ezerk

[salty-ass]

i am already morning my friends that i will leave in may

i want to pack up all the good parts of this college town and bring them with me

i will miss late nights in the ceramics studio, cig breaks behind the shop, walking home drunk w my gfs, thursday night wig nights, overpriced drinks from lilys

[cliffburton]

i'm where dyke rage and teenage laziness meet

[thenamedoesnotmattertome]

I'm quite happy with this one.

[999spiderarch]

thinking about titties again