#I wanna put this concept in a frame and hang it on my wall

[sincerely-sofie]

Oh My Word,,,,,

I've been learning how to use Clip Studio Paint and just had a vision of the world's most beautiful webcomic concept (according to Sofie):

PMD worldbuilding where there's a society of absurd fantasy creatures chilling and living amongst each other with no humans in sight

Ooblets dialogue, humor, and color palettes

Tamagotchi art style

Character designs inspired by all of the above (especially the absolutely adorable and extremely bizarre looking first stage + beta Pokémon designs and the little scarves the Hero and Partner always wear)

And a lighthearted slice-of-life storyline that has a cozy, low stakes atmosphere and emphasizes a cast of quirky characters and their relationships

Welp. Now I know what I'm gonna focus on after The Present is a Gift is done.

[suffering-frombrain-rot]

Obey me brothers + crew watching MC do a diamond painting

I've never done a post like this before, let alone anything for this fandom, but I'm doing a diamond painting myself, and these boys decided to rotate in my brain while doing so. I hope ya'll enjoy this crack post!

Lucifer

-he thinks it's an interesting concept

-he likes checking in on your progress as you place the tiny gems on the right spaces

-far too tedious and time consuming for him to do

- if he ever had a break, then he'd maybe like to try it out with you

-he'd let you work on it in his office while he works as long as you SWEAR you wont make a mess with the gems

-if you do happen to spill some, he'll make sure you pick up every last one, double and triple check that they're all accounted for

-if you give it to him, hed definitely frame it and put it either in a hallway or in his room

Mammon

-he thinks its dumb, why would you spend so much time doing something like that when you could just get a premade one or the same image without the gems?

-he loves watching you do it, he'll say all that to your face, but we all know he'd wanna watch you the whole time

-gets exited when you send him updates, but he'll just respond with a "nice" or something

-he'd wanna try it out with you so you get him one of his own

-he spills the crystals all over the sticky part on accident

-doesn't know how the tools work, he'd also put them on upside down on accident

-he'd frame your finished one and hang it above his bed~

-he's never letting his see the light of day

Leviathan

-he'd play lots of puzzle games, so he sees the appeal in doing something like that

-it's said in a group chat, idk what it was called, but he likes to be able to be in a room with a person and do two completely different things, he doesn't need constant communication or even doing the same thing as the person really to be happy in their presence

-so I'd like to imagine he'd love having you work on your project on the floor of his room while he plays a game or watches a anime

-he'd occasionally check up on you to see your progress!

-maybe he'd order his own of Hana Ruri off Akuzan to work on with you the next time you bring it over to his room

-I don't think he'd hang it anywhere if you offered to give it to him, boy has too many posters on his wall anyways

-he'd say that you worked too hard on it to give it away to someone so quickly

Satan

-my true love <3

-anyways

-Satan is an art enthusiast and gives me a 'try anything and everything' type of vibe

-he'd want to do one with you, he'd make a date of it and everything

-get him a cat one PLEASE!!!

-he'd probably also like one of the starry night, but cats are the top priority 👌

-he'd start to get a bit impatient over time, and a little frustrated if he makes a mistake or spills the gems everywhere

-but he has you with him, so he can easily laugh it off and go back to working on it

-especially if you're enjoying doing it with him, that's the most important part!

-he'd probably want to trade with you once you both finish with them!

Asmodeous

-Also very artistic, like Satan

-he'd comment on how you're doing

"Wow! Your hands are so steady~"

"You have such a nice concentration face!"

-all the compliments might get frustrating if you're trying to focus, but it's okay because you love him

-he'd get one to do with you once you finish your first one, he'd love the closeness of working on such a long project with you

-he is very VERY good at the placement of every gem, he does nails and makeup as well as art occasionally so it is only natural

-he wants it to be perfect

-definitely posting work in progress pics on Devilgram

-takes pics of you working for himself~ he loves the candid shots

-and of course posts the final products together once ya'll finish

-he'd let you hold onto the one you did together so you can look at it and think of him~

Beelzebub

-he'd try to eat it

-it looks like little candies

-candy goes in his mouth

-simple math

-but seriously, make sure he's not gonna eat it if you do one of these around him

-he'd try his hardest to help you out if you ask, but I don't think he has the hand-eye coordination

-like Levi, I think he'd like to watch you in silence as you work on it

-maybe do some workouts while you work?

-he'd probably want to hang it on the fridge since that's where he is a lot of the time, and the others can look at it when they're in the kitchen :)

Belphegor

-Belhpie probably wouldn't care all that much

-he'd think it's pretty, but watching you work on it is putting him to sleep

-he'd probably also want to help you with it, just so it doesn't take you too long

-he can just tell that working on it hurts your back from being hunched over for too long

-go lay down with him, it'd be much nicer, he could rub your back as you both fall asleep

-there's always tomorrow to work on it

-he'd wanna show your work to Beel once it's done

-hed also wanna hang it on one of the walls on his side of the room

Diavolo

-LET HIM DO ONE TOO

-PLEASE

-IT LOOKS LIKE SO MUCH FUN!

-he'd watch you do it, then try to learn the best ways to do one himself

-(may be projecting a little here) he wouldnt know that you could place more than one at a time

-gets well over a quarter or so of the way through before realizing the long thing at the end of the pen you can use to place multiple down at once

-he feels silly but that's okay because hes having fun!

-he'd get one for Barbs too so the three of you could work on it together during any free time you have

-Puts too much pressure while going to pick up the gems and spills them all over out of the tray

-you help him clean them up every time, and you frequently have to use tweezers to take the gems off of the spaces of the picture they spilled on

-even if it's a messy process, you both have lots of fun making them

-he'd put it on his desk in a frame if you gave him yours

-you probably gave it to him as compensation for his messed up one

-shows it off every chance he gets

Barbatos

-if he sees that you're struggling with your project, he'd take over for a bit to show you the best way to do it

-he's like an annoying art teacher that keeps correcting your project when you didn't ask for it

-it's fine though, just tell him you don't need help and he'll respectfully leave you to your work

-he'd make you tea and snacks while you work if you're someone like me who gets too absorbed in your work to take a break

-also would massage your shoulders while idly talking with you about whatever topics your conversation leads

-he'd organize the bags of gems for you, makes sure everything is neat and tidy weather or not you ask for it

-if you wanted to give it to him, he'd happily set it up somewhere visible in the castle

Simeon

-Ugh!

-he'd love watching you work on it!

-he thinks its so pretty how it comes together and becomes so vibrant!

-he'd go and get several to bring up to the celestial realm

-he'd love working on them outside in the light of the celestial realm because of how shiny they are!

-he'd definitely hide things from you just to mess with you

-you need a certain color? Simeon has it in his pocket

-you set your tool down to do something else? He's grabbed it

-will give it back if you kiss him~ he promises <3

-he'd cherish it forever if you gave it to him when you're done!

Solomon

-he'd use magic to mess with you

-inverting the colors, making the colors the same, placing them on the spots for you with magic

-TELL HIM TO STOP

-the fossil has no right

-anyways hes like Simeon with the prank pulling

-he'd stop once you tell him and will revert the changes, then would go back to watching you peacefully as you work

-would be so so happy if you gave it to him, he'd brag to the others that you gave him such a personal and intricate gift

-he's gonna get killed by the others some way or anthother

-but that's fine

-he loves toying with death

[shlabam]

TOP TEN COMICS BOOK VILLAINS WE PROBABLY WON’T SEE IN THE MOVIES

Superhero media is the hottest thing going right now. It was true ten years ago when the MCU was in its adolescence, and it’s even truer now. Even with film production on lockdown, Marvel and DC are still planning on literally dozens of their characters entering their respective cinematic universes. However, for the fans of the source material, things can be contentious. For every memorable Tony Stark quip, there’s Superman destroying an entire city because he’s, frankly, kind of dumb now. A major point of contention is how the various popular villains are utilized. Making an intimidating and potent villain in a comic book is very different than in a film. In comics, you have months to establish motive, powers, and backstory before the villain even makes their first move. In films, that all has to be compressed and spilled out in the scarce few minutes when Captain America and Bucky aren’t making bambi eyes at each other. To be concise, some villains adapt perfectly, and some, no matter how good they are in the comics, just don’t. And to be clear, this list is of popular villains who have the possibility of appearing in a big-budget film, so no, you won’t be seeing Ten Eyed Man or Big Wheel in there. Their powers are, respectively, having ten eyes, and being very good in business. (That’s a lie, he’s just a huge wheel who chases Spider-Man.)

10: Mr. Mxyzptlk:

Cool, let’s get this one out of the way. Despite being one of Superman’s oldest, longest-lasting, and most popular enemies from all the way back in the Golden Age, there’s no way in hell he will be in a movie. For the uninformed. Mr. Mxyzptlk is a 5th dimensional wizard-genie who appears every ninety days to torment Superman with his reality-altering antics, and can only be sent back to his home dimension if Superman tricks him into saying his own name backwards. Yes, it would be very dazzling, as Mr. Mxyzptlk’s powers in a movie would basically look like if Christopher Nolan directed Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but he’s a little too silly to fit in with the current “everything is gloomy and also a bummer” tone of the Superman films. This silly tone has lent itself perfectly to the Supergirl series, where he’s made a handful of appearances. Besides, if we get Mxyzptlk in a Superman movie before Brainiac, I’ll lose my entire freaking mind.

9: Hobgoblin:

There have been eight Spider-Man movies so far, and of those eight, four of them have, in some capacity, featured the Green Goblin. And that makes sense, right? The Green Goblin is easily Spider-Man’s most memorable and reoccurring nemesis, with Doctor Octopus and Venom close behind, and Peter Parker’s link with Norman and Harry Osbourn makes their tragic story perfect for film adaptation. On the other hand, we have the Hobgoblin, who is essentially Green Goblin with all the gimmicks, none of the Parker-adjacent backstory, and an orange and blue color scheme, likely tying him to the Denver Broncos [citation needed]. Still, in those four cinematic attempts at tackling the Goblin, none of them have quite gotten him right, and I can’t imagine this character, who is, even in canon, an intentional Green Goblin rip-off, would fare any better.

8: Starro:

Brave and the Bold #28 from 1960 featured the first story with the Justice League, and this story put them up against a very unique new villain: Starro the Conqueror, a giant telepathic starfish who can release tiny versions of himself. If these tiny starfish latch onto your head, you’re under his control and obey his commands. The Justice League have battled him fairly regularly over the last fifty years, and he’s a distinct and powerful enemy that the fans generally appreciate, leading to him being referenced occasionally in Smallville, Arrow, and Flash. Why won’t he ever be in a movie? Because if you’re a Hollywood producer, you stopped paying attention at “giant telepathic starfish”. Sorry. Maybe Shuma-Gorath will pop up in the next Doctor Strange movie, and he’ll set off a Twilight-esque wave of starfish monster movies! Then again, almost absolutely not.

7: Puppet Master:

Speaking of mind control, what’s scarier than that? For my money, nothing. Having your body and will taken away from you by an unseen force is a terror greater than death. How could you possibly make a villain based around such a chilling concept and have him not be scary? Well, maybe if it’s an old bald man in an apron playing with dolls. The Puppet Master is an ongoing threat for the Fantastic Four who is just that: he makes models of his foes out of radioactive clay, and makes them punch themselves and dance around and kiss each other, because he’s, y’know, a weird old man. Why is he such a consistent threat who hasn’t fallen into obscurity like other dumb gimmick-based villains? His stepdaughter, Alicia Masters, is the Thing’s longtime girlfriend. As long as she keeps appearing in movies (including being played by… Kerry Washington? That can’t be right), there’s always a chance he’ll pop up, but I don’t think any movie studio is that stupid, despite the quality of every Fantastic Four movie blatantly defying that prediction.

6: Bizarro:

Superman has always suffered in the villains department. When you’re essentially a god, what can they throw at you? As it turns out, Lex Luthor, almost always. But why not another Superman? Bizarro is essentially that, an imperfect clone of Superman who speaks in opposite speak - “Bizarro am good! Me not punch you until you live!” - and features the same abilities as the Man of Steel. Sounds great, right? Putting a hero against a villain with their same powers has worked for nearly every Marvel movie (shots fired). So why won’t we see him grace our silver screens any time soon? Because they’ve never really figured him out. Is he funny? Is he lethal? Does Kryptonite work on him? If he does everything the opposite of Superman, why does he wear clothes? Isn’t being naked the opposite of being clothed? Bizarro is a major Superman side-character and has made appearances in Smallville and Supergirl, but the idea of him being the Big Bad going toe-to-toe with Henry Cavill doesn’t sound like it would generate a lot of views.

5: Impossible Man:

You remember what I said about Mr. Mxyzptlk? Remember? So take that bit, but everywhere I say Superman, have it say Fantastic Four instead… yeah, that should do it.

4: The Wrecking Crew:

Thor has a unique quirk of having a very cinematic rogues gallery. Sure, most of the movies have pitted him against Loki, but if they were to run him up against the Enchantress, or the Absorbing Man, or Ulik the Troll, or Kurse, or even the Stone Men from Saturn, that’s not a bad movie! However, in one of the attempts to give Thor more of a mortal nemesis, they put him up against the Wrecker, who has an… enchanted… indestructible… crowbar. Yeah. Incredibly, the Wrecker and his Wrecking Crew have become very present characters throughout the Marvel Universe, essentially serving as “jobbers”, being rolled out to get beaten up by the new top hero or villain, but that may not work in a movie, where villains have to be seen as having some level of potency before being struck down. That means we’d need at least a short scene where it seems like Thor might lose to a guy whose power is “crowbar”, and that’s about as likely as an Edward Norton cameo in the next Avengers. Ho boy, they did NOT part on good terms!

3: Clayface:

When the movie-going public goes to see a Batman movie, they generally want something a bit more grounded than your typical superhero fare. After all, Batman has no powers, and therefore the most supernatural thing that should happen in these movies is a gas that makes you smile, or a different gas that makes you think your dead parents are back and disappointed in you. Might wanna put a mouth covering on that mask, Bruce! The one and only they’ve made a movie where Batman fights people with real, off-the-wall super powers (Batman and Robin), it did not go great. And those guys pale in comparison to Clayface, who is, yes, made of clay. In the comics and cartoons, Clayface looks awesome, turning his limbs into weapons and being very challenging to incapacitate, but in a live-action, realistic Batman adventure, we wouldn’t want to see the Dark Knight fight a poop-colored version of the T-1000, especially if it’s got the same chemical composition of a little dreidel that I made.

2: Red Hood:

A relative newcomer to the Batman universe, Red Hood is the revived body of Jason Todd, the second Robin, who was brutally killed by the Joker in one of the most controversial storylines DC Comics ever produced. Literally, fans called a 900 number to tell the writers to kill him off. A 900 number. That’s how much they hated the little turd. Anyway, Jason Todd, whom Batman and the rest of the world believed was dead, was revived by Ra’s al Ghul and became a ruthless villain. Since then, he’s gravitated more to the side of the hero, though one a bit more willing to spill blood than his mentors. Why won’t we see him in the darker, edgier Batman films? Because… that’s Bucky. It’s the same thing that happened in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Teen sidekick killed in controversial manner, revived by super villain to be a thorn in said hero’s side, later changes his mind and becomes a good guy again, though with enough PTSD to fill a PTSD super store. The two storylines even occurred in the comics in the same year, 2005, to much fanfare and across-the-board declarations of one company ripping off the other, reminding the world of the great Aquaman-Namor debates of the 1940s. Considering that DC’s films have criminally underperformed compared to Marvel’s, the last thing they want to do is be accused of lazy plagiarism, so Jason Todd will likely remain a permanent fixture in the afterlife, hanging out with Batman’s parents and, at the rate that people are coming back from the dead, literally no one else. (Plus, if they can’t even get Robin right, how are they gonna do this?)

1: Mister Sinister:

Yes, he was teased at the end of X-Men Apocalypse, but ignoring that the film underperformed both critically and commercially, Mister Sinister is never going to be in a movie. It would make sense for him to appear, though, right? He’s one of the most present and potent X-Men villains, he’s played crucial roles in many memorable storylines, he’s got a sick cape, but… something a lot of comic book fans tend to overlook is his murky backstory, powers, and motivations. He was a biologist in Victorian London who did genetic experiments on homeless people in the hopes of finding clues about the oncoming threat of mutants. In this time, he unearthed the long-dormant En Sabah Nur, whom you plebeians may know as Apocalypse, and Apocalypse gifted him with great abilities. What abilities you ask? HA HA, good question! At various times, Sinister has displayed: telepathy, telekinesis, energy projection, shape-shifting, regeneration, and teleportation, but these powers will mysteriously disappear whenever they want him to get sliced up real good by Wolverine. Additionally, it has never been made very clear what Sinister wants. Does he seek perfect mastery of the human genome? Does he live to torment Cyclops? Is he a blind follower of Apocalypse? Is he just running through all the different kinds of goatee? Of course, in adaptation, the writers would pick and choose the aspects they’d want to use, but I doubt they’d want to untangle the Christmas lights mess that is Mister Sinister, especially when they’ve got a perfectly good villain whose power is just “magnets”.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Robin//It’s Nice To Have A Friend

hi!! based off this song! apparently this is about two childhood friends falling in love?? what a concept. a concept that my brain did not think of when listening, this is what i assumed it was about. basically its a lot sadder than the actual song.

As soon as the school bell rings, Robin is pushing out of her seat and running to get her coat. All day she’s been locked in a stuffy classroom, destined to watch the snow fall from her desk while Mr Peters drones on about the History of Hawkins. What 10 year old wants to learn about why Hawkins has so many farms? Not this one. She wants to be free outside. As she rounds the corner, she runs straight into another girl, and at first she’s frightened, scared that its going to be one of the popular girls who’ll push her over and call her names. But as soon as she see’s your wide smile, she knows she’s safe and the frown on her face turns into a grin. 

The pale yellow of the wall is a wile contrast to the bright pink coat your wearing, its puffy and far too big and you can barely move your arms in it, but you’re happy and warm and excited to be out of school. The two of you look at each other for a few seconds, matching smiles on your faces and you don’t even have to say anything to her, she already knows what you’re thinking. 

“Last one out is a loser!” You call and take off into a sprint out of the front doors. She laughs loudly and follows you, the both of you narrowly avoiding any teachers that would ruin your fun and then your outside. The ground sparkles with the soft snow, and both of you smile gleefully as you watch your classmates throw snowballs at each other while they walk home. Your breath is visible in the air and you take a few moments just breathing and watching it disappear. 

“I win.” You turn to her once you’ve gotten bored and she rolls her eyes, despite the smile on her face. The tip of her nose is tinted pink due to the cold and a giggle bubbles to your lips before you call her Rudolph. Again she rolls her eyes, telling you she already has a Winter themed name, but you’re not listening, you’re already at the bottom of the steps, your head tilted up so you can look at her. 

The sky is as white as the ground, but neither of you care. Your both too wrapped up in the beauty of how peaceful everything looks. You and Robin live the furthest away from school, meaning you take a different route from the rest of your classmates, plus with the weather, the majority of students will either be getting the bus or being picked up by parents. The bus is far too crowded, no matter if its been snowing or not and you’ve told both of your parents specifically that if it snows they are not to pick you up. Its too pretty to be looked at through a car window. You have to experience it. 

A small sun peeks out from underneath the snow, and its like the brightness of the yellow chalk has melted everything around it. While you stare at the ground Robin pulls her gloves and hat from her pockets and starts putting them on. 

“Did you lose your gloves again?” She asks once she’s finished. You’re still distracted by snow falling around you, its not as heavy as before but it still gets stuck in your hair and when you look at her, she giggles a little at a snowflake stuck on your lashes. 

“Yeah.” You reply. “I put them down outside but when I went back I couldn’t find them.” 

“Here.” She takes a glove from her right hand and gives it to you. You smile gratefully at her and place it over your hands, feeling a tad warmer. She interlocks a gloved pinkie with yours as you start the walk back to your houses. “Wanna hang out?” She says casually and you’re so happy that she wants to spend even more time with you. 

Despite being best friends and neighbours, sometimes you can’t help but feel that you’re not cool enough to hang out with Robin. Which, at any age is ridiculous, but at ten, even more so. And you’ve seen in films where friends go to high school or even middle school and one of them gets popular leaving the other behind and the thought of that terrifies you.

“Sure!” You beam. “Sounds like fun.”  

After a small argument about where to go and an impromptu snowball fight, you finally make it to the arcade. Its bright lights pulling you in, but thats probably because the neon sign makes it stand out against the all white backdrop. The two of you run across the parking lot and through the fronts doors in record time, despite the snow, and your loud laughter gains the attention of a few people. 

The two of you make a beeline for the the back, narrowly avoiding a few older kids as they walk past you both. Once you’ve made it, you instantly start playing while Robin scribbles something on a piece of paper from her bag. She slides it you and she takes over the game for you while you read. Her handwriting is messy and to most people difficult to read, but to you its the easiest thing in the world and your eyebrows furrow as you take in the words. 

“What do you mean this place is haunted?” You turn to look at her and her eyes widen before she stares back at you, your character dying due to the lack of attention making you groan loudly. 

“You don’t say that stuff out loud.” She huffs. “Thats how you get possessed.” 

“This place isn’t haunted.” 

“It is.” She argues. “I heard Heather talking to Andy on my way to the bathroom and they said this place is haunted by some kid who got addicted to playing the games here. And he ended up obsessed with winning one of them so he stayed overnight and ended up dying of exhaustion.” 

“Thats bullshit.” You reply and her eyes widen at your words. “Heather and Andy don’t even know what this place is, and this place is closed at night.” 

“Thats true.” She nods. “But Heathers brother does and Andy’s sister too, they go on dates here. And thats why he died, because there was no one here.” 

“They make sure the place is empty before leaving.” 

“They didn’t that night.” She crosses her arms stubbornly and you send her a look. 

“They do every night. Plus, his parents would have been worried that he didn’t come back so they would have looked for him and Hopper would have found him.”

“Well-” She starts, but she can’t think of anything else to say so she just huffs loudly before going to playing. “Hey, do you want to sleep outside tonight? My dad bought a new tent for the summer.” 

“Yeah! I’ll bring some snacks!” You say excitedly. “Will your mom be okay with it though.” 

“Yeah.” She waves you off. “She’ll be fine with it.” 

It's nice to have a friend...

”Hey, can you remember when you asked your mom if we could sleep in the garden and she told us stop being so ridiculous and that there was no way we were sleeping anywhere other than our beds in three foot of snow?” You ask and Robin chuckles beside you. 

The light pink sky casts a soft hue against her skin making her freckles look like stars scattered across her face. She shifts a little, moving slightly closer to you and she wobbles a little bit on the roof. Your hand reaches out to grab her arm, steadying her and she sends you a grateful smile. A blush creeping up both of your cheeks at the contact. The street below is quiet, the trees swaying a little in the slight breeze and in the distance you can hear a few dogs barking. Its suburban, but its perfect. And there’s no other way you’d rather spend your Friday night. 

The sun sinks behind the houses and you both sigh contently. Your parents have gone on a double date meaning you don’t have to be in bed by 10...despite you both being 16. 

“Do you want to play a game?” Robin asks, still looking out into the night sky. 

“Sure.” You shrug and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep some of your warmth in. “What are we playing?” 

“20 questions!” She says, her eyes bright as she looks at you and you groan loudly at her suggestion. “The reason we are here and not at Harrington’s party is so we don’t have to play these stupid games.” 

“No, the reason we’re here and not at Harrington’s party is because we weren’t invited.” She says sarcastically. 

“Whatever.” You nudge her softly making her giggle. “Even if we were invited, we wouldn’t have gone. Steve’s an ass, and I already have to deal with Carol in 2nd period English. I don’t need to see her anymore than I already do.” 

“Have you finished complaining?” She raises an eyebrow while looking you up and down. Another groan escapes your lips but you nod slowly and a bright smile appears on her lips. “Okay. What do I not know about you?” She hums and looks up the to stars. You sneak a quick glance at her to just admire her, the way her hair frames her face perfectly, or the soft smile that appears on her lips as she quietly names constellations. “Oh!” She looks back at you, an excited grin on her face and you quickly look away, deciding to focus on your shoes hanging off the edge of the roof. “Would you rather have endless money or endless love?” 

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “Thats what you want to know?” 

“Yes.” She replies confidently and you roll your eyes. 

“Endless love.” 

“Really?” Now its her turn to look at you confused, but you just shrug in return and look back out into the street. 

“Yeah. I’ll make sure the person I love is really rich.” You say casually making her chuckle. The fact that you didn’t use any pronouns is such a small thing but it raises Robin’s heart rate and a small part of her can’t help but wonder...what if. “My turn!” You smile gleefully and now she’s worried. She’s known you long enough to know what that look means. And it never ends well. “What’s one secret you’re still keeping from your parents?” It feels like the air has been knocked out of her lungs and the knowing smile that was previously on her face has been completely wiped off, now replaced with a look of uncertainty. 

There’s on secret she’s been keeping not only from her parents, but from everyone. 

“I’m gay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she speaks. She refuses to make eye contact with you, instead looking at her legs, but she can feel your gaze on her and its suffocating. 

“Okay.” You shrug and she looks at you quickly. 

“Okay?” She asks. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Now come on, give me your worst.” You challenge, expecting her to make some sort of stupid joke, but instead her arms wrap around your figure, squeezing you tightly and the sudden action takes you by surprise. You lean into her, also hugging her and the two of you stay like that for a few minutes. She takes a deep breath and the scent of apple and vanilla invades every single part of her. Its you and every time she smells either of them she can’t help but smile. And now she realizes that there’s another secret she’s been keeping from everyone, including herself...she’s in love with her best friend. 

“I’ve been so stressed recently.” She mumbles.

“Yeah...me too.”

“I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve been scared about telling my parents but part of me was even more scared to tell you. You’re my best friend and...I love you.” She sighs and you pull away from her, a frown on your face. 

“You would never lose me.” You reassure her. “And I love you too.” Her hand reaches out slowly, almost anxiously before she rests it on top of yours. Your eyes meet and you send her a bright smile. Her smile isn’t as bright, its like she’s still holding something back but you decide not to press any further. “So, whats your question?” She sends you a look, but its followed by a grateful smile. 

“Would you rather be left at the alter once, but eventually marry again. Or just never marry?” 

It's nice to have a friend...

The church corridor is full of people running around, but Robin it still outside your suite. In all the years of your friendship, she’s never had to deliver news like this. As soon as she saw Steve’s pale face she knew what was happening. The solemn look and the shaking hands gave it away. 

“Robin?” He touches her arm gently and she jumps, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before facing him. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Oh, I dunno. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to tell my best friend that her fiancee has left her at the alter. Actually, he left her before he even got to the alter.” She snaps and he flinches at her tone. Robin is always calm, level-headed. Its usually either himself or you that freak out in these type of situations, but then again, none of you have ever been in this situation. Steve’s glad to be your best friend, but he’s even more glad he doesn’t have to be the one to tell you this. “Sorry.” She sighs and leans her head against the door. “Its just...how do I tell her?” Steve thinks for a moment, looking down at the ugly carpet hoping that in the hideous pattern he’ll find an answer. But when it doesn’t appear and he can feel Robin staring at him, he looks back up. 

“Honestly? I don’t know.” 

She opens the door and for a second everything is well with the world. And then...

Apples and vanilla.

“Robin!” You squeal excitedly, your dress flowing around you as you run towards her, one hand holding a glass of champagne and the other reaching towards her while you narrowly avoid a table. “Where have you been? I need help with my dress.” 

You place the glass down and pull her towards you, and before she has the chance to say anything you’ve pulls your hair to the side, exposing your bare back to her and she feels exactly the same as she did when she was 16 and coming out. 

“Can you do my dress up please? I can’t reach and I don’t know where everybody else is?” You sound so happy...so excited. 

And then she feels angry. Hot, white rage. Because why would anyone want to leave you? How could anyone leave you? Perfect, pretty you. That can make people laugh and leave a whole room breathless just with a smile all at the same time. Daniel was lucky to have you. She thought that as soon as she met him, and despite the pain that she felt when she saw you go through all the milestones with him and not her. She saw how happy he made you and so she decided she’d be in pain every single day if it made you happy. But now. Now you’re both going to be in pain. And there’s nothing she can do about it. She’s going to have to tell you the worst news of your life and she can’t make it better. She can’t bring him back, Steve’s already tried looking for him. She can’t take it away...god she wishes she could take it away. 

“Robin?” You ask, your voice filled with worry as you sit her down on the small sofa, your guiding hand still in hers even when you’ve both sat down. You’ve only ever seen Robin cry a handful of times, so why is she crying on your wedding day? “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs and you look at her confused. Its only when she finally makes eye contact with you that you understand. You know every single look. Every smile, frown, quirk of an eyebrow and even though you’ve never seen this one before, you know. Your face falls, the confused smile crumbles, replaced with a look of pure devastation and Robin is never going to get that image out of her head. Her arms wrap around your shaking figure, pulling you into a tight hug and the more she shushes, the louder you cry. 

Steve’s still outside, waiting for Robin to come back out but when he hears you crying he knows she won’t be out for a while, so he decides to make himself useful and break the bad news to everyone else. What else is the best man supposed to do?

After an hour, the church is empty and your loud cries have turned into small sniffles. The shoulder of her pale pink dress is covered in mascara, lipstick and tears but she doesn’t care. She needs to get you home. 

“Come on.” She helps you stand and you laugh bitterly as you see your reflection the mirror. Smudged make-up, crumpled dress and a completely pathetic expression. “You don’t by chance have any other clothes here?” She asks but she already knows the answer. “Thats okay.” 

As soon as your out the church, bells ring and its like the universe is laughing at you. Robin looks around, the bright blue sky a huge juxtaposition from what is happening below and she hurries you into her car. The rice crunching underneath your heels reminding you of snow and you can’t help the small smile that appears momentarily as you remember your childhood. 

“You okay?” She asks once the two of you are buckled in. 

“Fine.” You mutter and she sends you a pointed look. 

“Y/n.” She says and before you know it you’re crying again. She sighs before starting the short drive back to your house. “Its going to be okay.” She looks at you once your parked outside your home, but you’re not looking at her. You’re gaze is focused on your front door, your mom standing just outside it, a solemn expression on her face and based on the amount of cars parked around your house, you both know she’s not the only one thats going to look like that. “Do you want to sleep at mine tonight?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Robin?” You ask, finally looking at her. “Thanks for having my back.” 

“Yeah.” She nods, a tight smile on her face. “Everyday.” 

Despite Mrs Buckley’s attempts to talk to you both, Robin practically pushes you up the stairs, sending her mom a look before following you up. Any other time you’ve walked through the threshold of this house, its always felt like home. But today, it feels empty. Although, you’re not entirely sure if its just you that feels empty. 

You’re already out of your dress and raking through Robin’s drawers by the time she’s walked through the door. She puts the dress outside the door while you get changed and once she’s turned around you’ve already in bed, the covers pulled right up over your head. 

“Hey Y/n?” She asks but you don’t respond. “Do you want to sleep outside tonight? My dad got yet another new tent...and I don’t think my mom will mind.” She sighs when she still doesn’t get a response so she decides to go to your house and try and tell everyone what little information she knows. 

“Robin?” You call out, your voice barely above a whisper when you hear the door open.

“Yeah?” She’s looking at you instantly, and her heart breaks once she see’s how broken you are. 

“Please don’t leave.” 

“Of course not.” She smiles and closes the door, climbing into bed beside you. She’ll change once your asleep, but right now she needs to make sure you’re as okay as possible. “We can stay in bed all weekend if you want.” 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Robin?” You ask and she hums in response, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It's nice to have a friend.” 

[avengerscompound]

Punk

Punk: A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2648

Warnings:  Smut (M|F, Oral and Vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers falls for the punk girl from next door. Maybe you have more in common than appearances would have you believe.

A/N:  Normally when I do a reader insert I try and make the reader as physically a blank slate as possible. Sometimes I slip up a little by saying they put on Steve’s shirt or he runs his fingers through her hair or that she blushed. But I do usually try not to do any of that so you can put yourself physically into the reader. This is not the case with this one. @abigailredgrave and I actually hashed this out for a while. Part of what appealed to both of us with this concept was huge straight-laced Steve with a tiny punk girl. So she has a lot of physical descriptors. I have tried to be racially ambiguous still. But you are going to have to pretend you’re skinny and 5′1 and covered in tattoos. Sorry if that’s off-putting. I would normally only do that with OC’s but we decided on Reader for this.

Also, this was written before Black Panther and Infinity War so it’s based on a post CW world that doesn’t exist.

Punk

Steve sits sketching at his desk.  The only light in the room coming from the dusty desk lamp next to him and the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling in the living room where Bucky lies on the couch reading.  The stray tabby cat that had decided to adopt him sitting on his chest.

They’d been on the run for several months now.  They’d settled in Canada, but even though Canada had been one of the countries not to sign the Accords, they were still playing it low key.  Not venturing out too far.  Only trusting select people.

He heard the drumbeat first and smirked.  He remembered how annoyed he was the first time that asynchronous sound drifted through the walls.  How he’d lain in bed holding his pillow over his ears, cursing under his breath.  How eventually he’d cracked and stormed next door only to be greeted by you.  5’1, spiky pink hair, arms covered in sleeves of tattoos, dressed in a men’s shirt that fits you like a dress that had ‘The Ramones’ printed on the front.  You’d been brushing your teeth and as soon as he’d asked you to turn it down you’d apologized profusely.

“Oh hey!  I’m so sorry, man.  I thought that apartment was empty.  I’ll keep it down from now on.”  You’d said as you’d stared up at him, toothbrush still in your mouth.

The following day you’d shown up dressed in a leather jacket, torn black jeans, boots and a leather collar around your neck.   You had donuts and coffee for him to apologize.  When you’d seen that Steve was living with Bucky and neither of them was fully clothed as they went about their morning routine, your first assumption was they were together.  When you’d asked Bucky had laughed at you.

“With this punk?  He’s not my type.”  Bucky had said.

After that Steve had just found himself drawn to you.  It made no sense.  You were nothing like him.  You were everything he wasn’t.  Small and fearless.  Ready to stand up for yourself and anyone around you.  Colorful and social.  He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Sounds like she’s home!”  Bucky calls out.

Steve gets up and wanders into the living room.  “I should tell her to keep it down.”  He says.

“You gonna ask her out this time?”  Bucky asks, looking up at Steve. His hand absentmindedly going to going to the cat’s head and giving it a scratch.  It flexed its front paws and started purring loudly.

Steve rolls his eyes.  “Like she’d be interested in me at all.  What do we have in common?”

Bucky bursts out laughing, disturbing the cat.  It jumps off his chest and runs under the couch.  “Steve.  If you were born a girl in the nineties she is exactly who you would be.  She is more you than you are because you always tried to act respectable and she’s just ‘fuck it, fight me’.”

“But…”  

“But, nothin’, pal.  So she has tattoos and dies her hair and she’s small.  Did you forget you were small once too?”  Bucky says.

“I didn’t get tattoos or dye my hair,”  Steve says, hunching his shoulders.

“Stop making excuses,”  Bucky says simply.  “You know she turns that music up so you go over there right?  She stopped doing it for a whole week and then when you didn’t come ‘round she started doing it again.”

“You think?”  Steve says.  He’s hopeful, but also terrified.  He hasn’t dated.  He doesn’t know how to do it at all.  Let alone in this world.  Let alone with you.

“I know.  Now go tell her to turn it down.”  Bucky says.

Steve heads over and knocks on the door.  You were waiting for him and when you open it you just launch yourself into his arms.  “Stevie!”  You squeal as he closes his arms around you, completely enveloping your tiny frame in his large one.  “Is the music too loud?  I’ve been to a concert and my ears are all blocked.  You ever get that?”  That isn’t a lie, but that isn’t why you have the music up.  You know it draws him over.

“Sometimes… not normally from music though. Once it was from aliens.”  Steve says as he lets you go.

You head to your stereo, switching it off.  “Your life is crazy.”  You say.  “You wanna drink?”

Steve chuckles.  “You’re talking so loudly.  But yes.  I’ll have a drink.”

You go take a beer out of the fridge one for you and one for Steve.  He opens it and drinks.  Sometimes he questions why he bothers.  He doesn’t love the taste of beer, and he doesn’t get the added effects most people get when they drink it.

“Hey so, I know it’s not your thing.  But there’s a club in town.  They’re having a 70s punk revival night tomorrow.  Some people put my name down on the door.  You wanna tag along?”  You ask.

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights.  He does want to go with you somewhere.  But he couldn’t think of a place where he’d be more out of place.  You take a swig of beer and assess him as he internally weighs up all the pros and cons of saying yes.

“Nah, dude.  Never mind.  It’s not your thing I get it.”  You say when the pause seems to be getting uncomfortable.

“No.  No, it’s okay.”  Steve says, quickly.  The sudden fear he’ll miss the only opportunity he gets rushing in on him.  “I’ll go.”  He takes a long drink of the beer.  “Tomorrow?”

You light up.  “That’s wicked good.  I’ll come get you.  At say; eight?  We can get food first.”

That’s how you and Steve end up on your first date.   You walk the street together towards the club.  You with your leather cuffs and jacket.  Your thick black boots and your torn black tee and jeans.  Him in his tan pants, sensible shoes, and light blue shirt.  To his credit, he’s also wearing a leather jacket, but it’s tan too.

You couldn’t look more different if you’d aimed to.

When you both get to the club you give the doorman the name and he lets you in, you’re walking through the door when Steve gets stopped.  “Where do you think you’re going, bub?”

You turn back to see the bouncer with his hand on Steve’s chest and Steve looking at you helplessly.

“Hey, what are you doing?  He’s with me?”  You snap, puffing your chest out.

“Yeah, well I guess you’re not going in either.  Because Grandpa isn’t getting through that door.”  The bouncer growls.

You shove yourself right up in the guy’s personal space.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  He is with me!  My name is on the list!”  You shout up into the guy’s face.

Steve shifts nervously watching you.  Really not wanting to make a scene.  Not being able to afford to make a scene.

“You wanna try something, little girl?”  The bouncer growls, shoving you backward.  You raise your fists about to launch yourself at him when Steve’s arms wrap around your waist and he drags you away.  You struggle, legs kicking.

“Please stop,”  Steve says, firmly.  “I can’t have the police come.  Do you understand that?”

You nod, taking a deep steadying breath.  “That can’t just treat you like that because you look different.”   You seethe.

He turns you to face him and caresses your thumb with his cheek.  “Bucky was right.”  He says.

Your breath starts to steady and you look up into his blue eyes.  “About what?”

“He said you were just like me.  You are so much like me.”  He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  You reach your hands up and put them around his neck, pulling him down to you.

“This is kinda fast for me.”  He breathes, his lips are so close to yours.  Not saying it because he doesn’t want it.  Just because he feels it needs to be said.

His words startle you a little.  You’re so used to guys just taking what the want.  Rushing you.  To hear this is not his norm is surprising.  “Do you not want it?”  You ask.

He answers by pressing his lips to yours.  You had both expected just a brief touching of lips. It becomes so much more.  Your lips part and tongues meet as they both try to access the other’s mouth.  He pulls you hard up against him and you card your fingers through his hair.

Your skin feels hot, but not as hot as Steve’s.  He realizes that in this moment he wants you.  He’s been with other women before.   But normally in the past, that happened after spending countless hours together.  Usually working.  He’d never just gone out and immediately wanted to go home again for sex.

You pull back and look up at him.  “We did dinner.  Do you want to just go home?”  You ask.

Steve swallows and nods.  You take his hand and get in the first taxi that will take you.  In the back seat, you’re all over each other.  Kissing and running your hands over each others body.  You sneak your hand to his cock and feel him, hard and straining against his pants, before he takes your hand and moves it away.

When you get back to the apartment block, you rush upstairs taking two stairs at a time.  You get to your apartment and scramble to unlock the door as Steve kisses your neck.  Once in, jackets are shed.  There is no illusion about coffee or watching Netflix, or any other reason why you should be here.  You want each other, desperately.

Steve pulls your shirt off over your head and you start unbuttoning his.  You get impatient and tear it.  Buttons pop off and shoot across the room.  Steve growls and lifts you off the floor pushing you against the wall.  Kissing you hard.  You wrap your legs around his tiny waist and he grinds his cock against you. You both moan at the friction of your pants pushing against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, Steve.  I need you inside me.”  You moan.  You head falls back and he starts sucking on your throat.  It makes you moan louder and your cunt starts to drip for him.  Steve pulls back, a mark already forming on your skin.

“Say that again.”  He growls.  His cock aches. He wants nothing more to have it buried deep into your pussy.  To feel your heat and wet squeezing tightly around him.

“I need you inside me.  I need you to fuck me, Steve.” You mewl.

Steve grunts.  No one has ever spoken to him like that before.  His cock throbs in his pants.  He carries you wrapped around him in the direction of the bedroom.  He set you on your feet and you unhook your bra and turn around to take off your jeans.  You do it slowly, wiggling your ass in his face.

Steve groans as he takes his own shoes and pants off.  But it’s not just that you’re teasing him.  It’s everything about you.  Your tiny, feminine frame.  The sleeve tattoos that continue down your back and curl around your waist, finishing at your hips only to take up again on your thighs.  How bright your hair and skin look.  With all the colors that don’t normally feature on a person naturally.

He drops his pants and boxers and steps out of them.  Bucky had insisted he take protection with him.  Steve had tried to tell him that he wouldn’t need it, he never moves this fast.  But Bucky wouldn’t stop hassling him until he did.  So he fishes the condom out of his wallet and rolls it on.

“Take those panties off,”  Steve growls.  He can’t even quite believe these are words coming from his own mouth.  You look over your shoulder and smile at him before slowly dragging them down.

Steve approaches you and starts tracing along your tattoos with his mouth.  He kisses the path they make on your back.  His tongue flicks over your skin.  As they loop back around to your stomach he turns you and you fist his hair in your hands.

He reaches your pubic mound which is when the tattoos stop, only he doesn’t.  He tips you back onto the mattress and spreads your legs.  You squirm as you anticipate what’s coming.

Steve spreads your folds with his fingers and flattens his tongue, lapping up your crevice.  As his tongue slides over your clit you moan.  He repeats the process again, getting intoxicated by the scent and taste of you.  It makes his cock throb and leaks in the condom.  He places large open mouth kisses on your pussy.  His mouth is able to cover all of it in one go.   You arch on the mattress and he presses a hand on your hip bone to hold you down.

He sucks on your clit and pushes two fingers inside of you.  You start to beg.  You beg for him to stop torturing you. To let you come or to at least start fucking you. You beg for his dick.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing though.  As much as he wants to.  As much as your words make him want to come even before he’s inside you.  He keeps sucking and biting on your clit. His tongue flicks over it.  He counters by dragging his fingers on the walls inside you.  It all feels amazing and you’re close just poised to break when he finds your g-spot and presses hard against it.

You scream out and buck violently under him.  Your orgasm tears through you.   He pulls his fingers from inside you but his tongue keeps working on your pussy as you ride out your orgasm.

He stands and you both crawl up onto the bed.  Him stalking after you.  He kisses you and you cling to him.  Your fingers digging into his back.  “Say it again.”  He whispers.  “Beg me for it.”

He presses his cock against your pussy and starts sliding it up and down. The head presses against your clit with every forward thrust.

“Please, Steve.  Please.  I need your dick. I need it inside me.”  You whimper.  “Give it to me.”  The last phrase isn’t begging, it’s ordering.  He complies and he enters you.

You gasp and arch up as your body stretches to accommodate his girth.  “Oh fuck... Fuck yes.”  You cry.

He starts to thrust, moaning at the way your pussy feels squeezing around him.  The heat and softness paired with the ridges and the way the muscles expand and contract.  Milking his cock.

Your body is almost enveloped by his.  You bite at his shoulder and wrap your legs around him as he curves his back to reach more of you with his mouth.   He kisses along your collarbone and sucks at your nipples.  You dig your fingers into him as he brings you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Steve… I’m gonna… Oh fuck… can I?”  You babble.

He looks down into your eyes.  “Of course, sweetheart.  I want you to.”

You arch back and your core clenches as your second orgasm sweeps through you.  The pulse of your pussy brings him over with you.  And he empties inside of you.

As his cock stills, he slips from within you and pulls off the condom, throwing it in the trash.  He settles on your bed beside you, and you curl into his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I told Bucky that I was absolutely not going to have sex with you,”  Steve says, kissing your forehead.  “That it would be too soon.  I am not going to hear the end of this am I?”

You laugh and nuzzle into his neck.  “From that punk?  I doubt it.”

[agarthanguide]

i'm obsessed with klimt!jester and byzantine!molly, my gosh. what wonderful ideas you had for all of them! how long did it take you to settle on each inspiration, and what other ideas did you almost go with?

This is a fun question.  Here’s how it went (behind the cut because this got so very long)-

Caleb happened first, and without any intention of doing a whole set. I wanted to try to do Van Gogh’s coloring thing, and Caleb seemed like a really good target.  It was deeply fun.

Beau- Hey, I like this Caleb piece!  What if I do art stuff for all of the M9? I wanna try those long inky LIchtenstein lines!  And what could go wrong?  Surely this won’t extend to two months of extensive research and work!

Molly- As soon as I decided to draw Beau, I knew I wanted Molly to be some highly iconographic thing with glorioles and gold leaf and things.  I have a longstanding fascination with Catholic and Orthodox iconography and gosh do I love messing with gold leaf.  Early concepts included some Fra Angelico action (he does this thing where you texture the gold leaf to create patterns in the frame, which i find absolutely stunning.  This is also a Big Look in 17th Century Spanish polychrome sculpture, which I obviously couldn’t pastiche directly, but wanted to reference, if the opportunity came up)-

I also considered going a bit Russian.  Russian iconography has probably the most opportunities for adding layers of symbolism (it just occurred to me that I probably would have needed to find someone who understood cyrillic to make it work)-

In the end, I was paging through a book of decorative motifs and was reminded of the Byzantine mosaics in Ravenna, which are probably the most iconic of the form outside of the Hagia Sophia. I decided that I’d probably have lots of other opportunities to paint, and I wanted to try my hand at a realistic tile look.

Caduceus- I thought of Mucha straight away, but I really didn’t want to do it, because I had already seen it done several times, and I thought those other artists had done really well, and that the concept was a closed book.  The other big concept was Picasso’s Old Guitarist-

It’s got the lankiness and the stylization and I love the pose, but in the end I just really thought that Caduceus was more Art Nouveau than expressionist.  Also my brother was really voting against any pose that included a profile, because I had never drawn Cad in anything other than profile.  So that cinched it.

Jester- I never considered anything else but Klimt. I tried hard to think of something else, because my last two brain cells have just enough self awareness to know that Klimt is way, way above me in terms of pattern and texture and motif, and I was pretty sure it was gonna be too difficult for me.  It was, by the way.  I stopped long before I wanted to and didn’t include a lot of what I had dreamed of adding.

Matt- Following my fascination with iconography, I still wanted to do the heavily painted, loaded with symbolism and rich color portrait that Molly wasn’t.  I looked at artists like Ghirlandaio, Castagno, and Jan van Eyck (I never considered Da Vinci, his sensitivity is way outside my orbit), but in the end I kept coming back to Holbein, who really raises the bar on color choice and symbolism. I love that all his portraits seem to be set in plain or dark spaces, but are somehow glowing and mysterious. I didn’t have the guts to put in a deep, perspective-y background, but omg I wish- 

I mean I’m not a fucking wizard.  But holy shit look at that.  The notes and crap hanging off the wall all look like clues.  Like Sherlock Holmes would be able to write the whole life story of this guy.  It’s almost trompe l’oeil.

Yasha- First concept for Yasha was a Minoan fresco from Knossos-

If I was designing Yasha’s tribe, I think I’d go for a melange of Mongolian and Minoan, throwing in some Tibetan textile patterns.  I just think this looks so much like her, and also some other Minoan frescoes include insane levels of ritualized badassery, like Bull Leaping and young girls offering saffron to incarnate goddesses.  I just love it. In the end, I was worried that the relative clean-ness and simplicity of the lines in the Minoan style would make it look like I was giving Yasha short shrift.  This feels a little ridiculous to me now, but I had just come off three in a row that took more than ten hours. My next thought was the Book of Hours of Joanna of Castile.  The thought here was that some of the pages actually look like Yasha’s book of pressed flowers-

This felt like a totally winning direction to me.  As I researched illuminated books more, though, my concept started to broaden and get more stylized, and I just went with it.  I think it turned out okay.

Fjord- Fjord is handsome and iconic, so the ideas flowed easily for him.  The first and most obvious was a Fabio-era (read- 80s to early 90s) romance novel cover-

I didn’t go with it because the Tusk Love thing meant that a lot of other artists had tried it already, and many of them had done a damn fine job, and I didn’t think that I had anything to add. The next concept was David’s Napoleon-

Very solid concept, but two issues- 1. Most portraits of Napoleon are pretty standard, in the mold of, say, Holbein, which I had already done.  2. The horse portrait is awesome, but I think Fjord had only been on horses circumstantially.  I couldn’t picture him on a horse. He’s not iconically horsey, he’s iconically sailor-y.  I can’t confirm whether or not he had a moorbounde when I painted this, but I know I hadn’t seen any of those episodes, yet.  So. All of this dithering kept going until the DAY I STARTED PAINTING.  And suddenly pulp cover fell out. I love pulp art.  This is the second fandom I’ve done pulp art covers for.

Nott- Full credit to @essayofthoughts, who came up with the playing card thing right at the get go.  I wasn’t sold, though, and floated two other concepts. First was a Mughal Miniature-

The thing about these is that they are very often like little comics.  On one side of the painting, you can have the main character at a lake, picking daisies or being drowned or whatever, and then on the other side that same character can be picking pockets in a crowded bar.  There’s loads of opportunity for detail and symbols and fun stuff like that.  On the other hand- I’m not a goddam genius.  I could not have taken in the style and substance of Mughal storytelling and then just spit it out in a few short weeks and done it any justice. Nope, that concept was just too difficult and too far above me.My other concept was Millais’ Ophelia-

This one might have been amazing, but the second half of the 19th century was getting very crowded indeed, with Caleb, Caduceus, and Jester all having concepts from that era.  That and I wanted something more graphic artsy than painty to round out the series.  Beau was starting to feel like an outlier and I wanted to loop her in closer to the bunch, if you know what I mean.

Okay that was a lot, but I apparently had a lot to share.  I hope you found the unused concepts interesting, at least.  What would you have done, were you me? I would love to hear outtakes from alternative universes.

[megacross-ground-zero-rated-r]

I’ve been watching Best of The Worst by Red Letter Media and it’s giving me so many ideas for cheap and/or batshit film concepts that I could put in Megacross. Specifically when they come up with twists for movies more entertaining than the actual product, like “the town of retired mafia bosses and hitmen goes to war with the invading biker gang” for Showdown. 

Early and mid-age cinema was very inventive, but there was also a lot of either A) throwing random shit at the wall because you can / to see what sticks and B) Gimmicks and blatant ripoffs. 

Of course a lot of the tropes displayed in Best of the Worst just haven’t been invented yet for The Movie’s time-frame, and the existence of Toons is obviously gonna mix things up, but still. The biggest question on my mind is, in different time periods: Who took these more outlandish projects seriously as their own kind of art and why.

Edit: Better idea. Two or three aging Mob Bosses buy up an actual, run-down town and want to make it a retirement community for people in their social circle. They put on this show of, oh, we’re done with the life, we just wanna flip this place and hang out and nobody believes it for a second.

[transformersimagines]

To Be Decided

This was inspired by a fanfiction that I rediscovered thats a Tranformers Shattered Glass universe. It’s kind of a mix of prime and G1 characters that I enjoy the idea of that so thats what I just ran with it. This is yet another one fo those things I randomly wrote while I was sitting through a lecture. 

Heres the link to the fanfiction if you guys wanted to give it a read and see what I’m talking about. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9739745/1/Shattered-Illusions

“Good morning Megatron. You wave as you step into his office. He glances up from the data-pad he is reading and smiles.

“Good morning to you (Y/n), to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks. The door slides shut behind you and you opt to lean against the door frame, careful not to trigger the door to open again.

“Do I need some sort of reason to stop by and say hi?” You say with a smile. Megatron sets down his datapad and looks down at you over the table’s edge.

“Of course not, but considering Breakdown is lingering in the hallway outside the door I assume you have something you want to ask me.” Megatron points out with a small smile. Your casual demeanor quickly deflates at being found out. You awkwardly laugh and adjust yourself against the wall.

“Well.. we were wondering, Breakdown and I, if we could… go into town?” You ask. You watch as Megatron’s face falls into a frown, you already know what that meant.

“(Y/n)...” Megatron starts, trailing off.

“I know the dangers, but it’s been three months since I’ve actually been off the Nemesis. I only want maybe an hour in town at most and Breakdown would be with me if the Autobots did even show up.” You explain, pleading your case. Megatron sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Then you should know I can’t risk Breakdown or your life like this. If you are ambushed Breakdown will not be able to properly protect you and himself. I know you haven’t really seen what the Autobots can do, but they are brutal. And before you suggest taking another else along with you, we are short-handed as it is and can not afford to leave the Nemesis unguarded just for a small field trip.” Megatron explains sternly.

“I understand.” You sigh, staring down at the floor in defeat.

“It won't be too much longer (Y/n). The Autobots will soon move onto bigger problems and forget about your relationship with us.” Megatron offers. You nod in response, you were just a weak human that ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time that didn’t actually matter at all.

“Ok.” You turn your back to Megatron and walk out of his office, Breakdown was waiting in the hallway for you.

“Sorry kiddo, you heard the boss. It was a good try though.” Breakdown says.

“Ya, but I was hoping for a little more success.” You sigh, walking with Breakdown towards the rec area.

“Don’t worry too much (Y/n), this whole thing with the Autobots will blow over soon enough” Breakdown comforts. But when would this blow over? The shock-and-awe of the Nemesis and their alien-ness had worn off with your three months no stop exploring this place and asking everyone questions you could imagine. Once you both arrived in the rec area the few bots that were hanging around glance over.

“Looks like your plan didn’t go over so well with Megatron.” Starscream notes.

“Ya, he didn’t really go for the idea.” You nod, making your way over to the ladder that would take you up to the table’s top.

“Ta’ Autobots have been gettin’ fierce as of late, probably for the best.” Soundwave comments. You notice Frenzy and Rumble playing their Switch as you reach the top of the table. They both wave at you.

“Means we can finally have our rematch! I’m sure Frenzy just got lucky.” Rumble jokes, earning a well-natured punch from his brother. You were kind of getting tired of everyone feeling sorry for you, telling you it's better to stay put on the ship. God, you were going to lose it.

“If you want, I can see if Megatron would be willing to let you join me and the other seeker on a short patrol? Not exactly a trip to the town.” Starscream offers.

“I would honestly take anything at this point, thank you Starscream.” You really did love the Decepticons, but they were extremely overprotective (you didn’t even want to remember the time you caught a small cold, knockout practically short-circuited).

As you play a few games on the switch with some bots they slowly filter in and out of the rec area. Now you were just watching some videos on YouTube, the only bots that were in the room were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker hanging around in their usual dark corner. They were former Autobots, as they didn’t really care to change their insignia, but you could definitely tell anyways based on their darker colors and attitude. They were an interesting conversation, to say the least, though anyone would be hard-pressed to even get a few words out of them regularly. The only reason they seemed to talk to you at all was because of the help you offered after a particularly swampy mission. You were bored and didn’t mind getting your hands a little dirty and they were desperate. Now whenever the twins, especially Sunstreaker, had a particularly messy mission they would ‘ask’ (more like demand) your help with the hard to reach areas. You never really minded considering they were the only ones that would tell you what happened on their missions and wouldn’t sugar coat it.

“Hey, human.” Sideswipe says. You pull out your headphones and look up from your phone to find both the twins had moved from there corner to sit at your table. You rolled your eyes slightly at the ‘human’ comment, you still happened gotten them to use your actual name.  

“Hey yourself, what's up?” You ask, kind of confused. You eyed them up and down, they didn’t look like they needed your help for anything and you definitely weren't doing anything particularly interesting.

“Heard about what happened with Megatron.” Sideswipe says. Sunstreak leans in against his arm with a playful smile.

“Ya, what a rejection.” Sunstreaker adds.

“Yep, he wasn’t exactly on board with my small field trip to town.” You state bitterly.

“Well, ya didn’t go about it the right way.” Sunstreaker says, his smile becoming more of a mischievous grin.

“Oh really, and what would have been the ‘right way’ of doing it?” You ask, looking between the two bots.

“With a case such as yours, you never ask for permission, only forgiveness.” Sunstreaker says. You had considered sneaking out before, but no one would even think to disobey Megatron.

“I considered the whole sneaking out idea, but there's no one in this ship who would even think to disobey Megatron, they are big sweethearts and extremely overprotective.” You explain. The only people who would are the twins, but you didn’t think you were ever going to get close enough to ask.

“You just haven’t asked the right bots.” Sideswipe says.

“You guys wanna sneak me out?” You joke.

“Why not Sides?” Sunstreaker says, looking to his brother.

“Would be a good way to even things out.” Sideswipe suggests. Now you were confused.

“Even what out?” You ask.

“All your help after missions, we hate to have to owe someone.” Sideswipe says. I guess that made some sort of sense, not wanting to have that hanging over your head, not that you were ever going to demand favors in return.

“Let's do this then!” You exclaim, already excited at the thought of the open air, sunlight, and unhealthy food (Knockout, bless his spark, had really healthy food for you but didn’t understand the concept of a ‘cheat day’).

There were only a few bots you had ridden with, none of which were as luxurious as the Lamborghinis the twins transformed into. You made sure not to explore Sideswipes interior too much, sill hyper-aware he could feel everything you did. You simply sat still and stared out the window and watched as your hometown came into view.  

“You know the rules. stay in sight, avoid cameras, and only an hour.” Sideswipe recaps as he pulls up to the curb in front of your favorite spot to get a snack.

“Heard. Stay close, no cameras, hour.” You repeat, opening the passenger door and jumping out. You pull up your hood before walking in.

Snack in hand you sit on a bench just a few feet away from the twins. They were actually the ones causing more of a scene than you. As super fancy cars anyone who was walking by was snagging a selfie or picture. Any time someone got too close they would either honk or sound their car alarm, with the few people that didn’t scare as easily I would yell at. Once you have finished your snack you just leaned back on the bench and closed your eyes, enjoying the warm sun, the cool wind that chilled the air. As time started to tick away you feel someone sit on the bench with you. You peak and see a well-dressed man in a business casual attire, slicked-back black hair and a cocky demeanor.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” His joking comment only cemented your guess, his tone harsh trying to make fun of you.

“Something wrong with that?” You counter, not wanting to be perturbed by this man's attitude problem.

“I don’t know, just looks like your hiding something under that hood.” He remarks, reaching out the tap your hood but you move away from his touch.

“It is a little chilly out, it's perfectly reasonable to be wearing a hoodie.” You explain scooting father away from this man. You look around for another empty bench to move too.

“Geeze, I’m just asking. I’m looking for someone so seeing you sitting here in a hoodie all alone raised some red flags with me.” The man explains, throwing up his hands in defense.

“What are you some detective or something?” You counter. The man laughs at your comment, shaking his head.

“You could say that. I’m kind of like a private eye. Outside parties hire me and I find the people for them.” He says, pulling out one of those bigger vapes.

“Well your not very good at blending in. Not a real undercover look you got going.” You criticize. He smirks before taking a big inhale of his vape.

“Well,” He blows the smoke at you, causing you to inhale it and start coughing, “I find that this look makes me less suspicious than a big coat, sunglasses, and a hat.” You nod at his statement as you continue to cough.

“I guess so. Who are you looking for anyway, some big baddie?” You ask between coughs. You caught the man's smile grows more sinister.

“I never really ask my clients what they did, you would have to tell me, (Y/n)?” He asks, taking another inhale of his vape. You look over at him in surprise as you continue to cough, unable to really respond. He exhales another smoke cloud that blows by you. You stand up quickly and move to leave, one of your hands covering your mouth.

“The funny thing about this is how innocent it looks,” He jesters to the vape in his hand,” Nothing stands out about it, but the funny thing is…” He trails off, slipping it back in his pocket and standing up, “you can lace just about anything to the many chemicals in the juice.” You step away from him. What was he talking about? You became aware of the uncomfortable pressure in your lungs. It felt like someone was slowly squeezing your lungs, making it harder to breathe.  

“Now I am not affected because I worked hard to develop an immunity, but to anyone else, it might just have an effect.” He grins. “Now, if you come with me (Y/n) I can fix you right up with this,” He pulls out a small bottle with a liquid that had a slight yellowish consistency, “or we can do this the hard way and see how long you’ll last before you come running back to me. You won't die, but damn does it really sting after a while.” He throws the bottle in the air before catching it and sliding it into his pocket, taking a step closer to you. You continue to back away, looking back at Sideswipe just a few feet away.

“Come on (Y/n), there's someone who really wants to see you. He’s quite an impatient fellow, I would hate to leave him waiting too long.” The man says, adding a slight bitterness to the last bit of his statement. He holds out his hand for you to take with a triumphant smile on his face.

Your lungs were really starting to get irritated, you notice a small tremor in your hand you couldn’t seem to control. Whatever this guy did was not good at all and was taking effect pretty fast. This was exactly why Megatron didn’t want you to leave the Nemesis. Here you were, in danger because of the Autobots. Though I’m sure no one would have imagined they would hire a human to go after you. It had to be the Autobots, right? There is no one else looking for you that would take these kinds of measures. Would Knockout be able to fix you? Stop whatever this poison was doing. But then you would get in so much trouble, probably never get to leave the Nemesis ever again.

“I’ve done this so many times, there's nowhere you can go I won't be able to find you.” The man adds, continuing to walk towards you, grabbing your arm. What were you thinking! You probably would go through much worse if you went with this man, the Autobots were going to kill you in the best scenario. It would be well worth captivity in the Nemesis if you got to keep living.

“No!” You shout, yanking your arm from the man's grip and sprinting towards Sideswipe. He already has his door open for you and you jumped in, the door slamming shut behind you. Your tossed around as Sideswipe guns it out of his parking spot and back towards the Nemesis.

“Human are you ok?” Sideswipe asks. Your still viciously coughing, the tremor in your hand was starting to move up your arm. You couldn’t control the muscles as they spazzed.  

“That was a human, would Optimus really get a human to work with them?!” Sunstreaker asks, surprised. You were struggling to get your breathing under control as it got harder and harder to breathe.

“I don’t know, maybe Prowl put it together, we’ll have to tell Megatron about this.” Sideswipe responds.

“Scrap, we are going to be in some serious trouble!” Sunstreak curses. Gosh, all your friends were going to be freaking out, you just hopped that Knockout would be able to do something. And that Megatron wasn’t going to be super angry.

[taehyungsgrowl]

shy!michael's bf LOVES dirty talk and he's good at it, michael - not so much, and since his bf loves teasing him as well, one day he decides to make michael play along. he orders michael to say very precisely what he wants his bf to do to him. michael's face is bright red, he's trembling and feels so humiliated but eventually it turns him on to keep saying "fuck me PLEASE i want your big fat cock in my tight little hole" over and over again 😥😥😥

I’ve had this sitting in my inbox for a bit! Sorry it took me so long to get to!

But I’m so in love with this concept omg! I’m gonna put a “read more” thing here since this is gonna start off w some smut and I don’t wanna make someone uncomfy if they don’t wanna see that on their dash. mindfulness is key, y’all. be nice to one another. 

Fuck! That’s right, baby. You like having my cock down your throat? Look at you.. boy wonder. The only wonders your working is on my cock, huh baby boy? Doing so good for me.

Just the thought of the words his boyfriend used in the bedroom made Michael burn brightly. He was almost embarrassed at how much he enjoyed it; how much he enjoyed being told how good he was.

And Y/N loved the way Michael reacted to his words. Pink cheeks and lips hanging open. Especially when Y/N decided to whisper a little ‘can’t wait to fuck your tight little hole later’ before sending Michael off to class - red faced and flustered.

What Michael wasn’t sure of was what gave his boyfriend the inspiration to ask this of him;

“Babe,” he chuckled into Michael’s collarbone, nipping the sensitive skin lightly, “Wanna try something different.” he kissed his neck, peeping his eyes up at Michael.

Michael nodded fervently, “What is it?” already agreeing to whatever is was. He never would have imagined what was going to be asked of him.

Y/N pushed Michael down on the bed so his head crashed down on his pillow. He straddled his boyfriends waist - admiring the halo of golden curls that framed his perfect cherub face. He ground his hips lightly into Michael’s crotch. “I want you to talk dirty to me, baby. Let me hear those filthy thoughts of yours.” he failed to hide the smirk that spread across his face.

Michael felt the cotton of his boxer briefs stretch against his hardening cock as the words fell from the boys lips. “I - I can’t.. I don’t know how,” he pouted, the blush spreading down his neck.

Y/N’s fingers trailed down Michael’s chest. His skin was smooth and goosebumps raised as each finger drew itself lower and lower. “You can..” he leaned down, breathing into Michael’s mouth, “and you will.” Michael was met with a firm kiss, Y/N’s hand cupping his jaw.

The softest whimper left Michael’s lips. He was going to make a fool of himself, he was sure. But with the way Y/N was looking at him; lust filled eyes blown wide, jaw muscles tensed, and saliva coated lips - Michael was in for it.

Y/N began to palm his own crotch, feeling himself harden at the thought of his shy boyfriend begging to be fucked. He imagined the way Michael would sound. His voice and panting echoing through the thin walls of their dorm.

Y/N’s hand trailed down his boxers and onto Michael’s bare thigh. He squeezed it, “C’mon baby. Let me hear what you want me to do.” His hand found Michael’s cloth covered cock, “or I won’t do anything at all,” he shrugged, a devilish smirk on his face. Y/N he wasn’t being fair. With Michael’s underwear already leaking with precum, he knew Michael needed to be fucked.

But he was still going to make him beg for it.

Michael’s hips buck forward as Y/N’s hand met his cock, “please,” he let out softly, “please fuck me,”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N shook his head, “that’s not gonna work, baby boy. You know what I want. I want you to show me just how filthy that mouth of yours is.” He chuckled, unable to hide the amused look on his face.

“Y/N..” Michael whined. He’d never felt so flustered in his life. He was used to hearing the dirty words that slipped from Y/N’s lips. But for him to actually say them. Michael was so embarrassed. “C-can you fuck me? Y/N please.” He stuttered, his pink flush now a constant on his face.

Y/N pouted seeing just how vulnerable Michael looked in that moment; he could help his sweet boy out.

He took Michael’s hand and kissed his knuckles, “Tell me how you want me to fuck you, Michael. You know what I want.”

Michael’s neglected cock was painfully straining against his underwear, he craved to be touched. Michael wanted his face to be pressed into his pillow while Y/N bucked his hips into him over and over.

“I want y-you to fuck me.. H-hard.” he stuttered out. Poor boy was almost shaking with embarrassment; of course he trusted Y/N, but the words sounded to unnatural falling from his lips, he couldn’t help but feel self conscious.

Y/N began to rid himself of his underwear, letting it fall carelessly on the ground. His cock springing up proudly. He began to run his hand up and down his shaft, using his thumb to caress his head. “Mhmm, what do you want me to fuck you with, baby?” his free hand flying to Michael’s waistband, peeling it down, slowly.

Michael let out a pathetic whine as his boyfriends knuckles brushed against his own hardening cock. He sat up, lifting his upper body off the bed. Y/N continued to be sat on Michael’s thighs, their lengths grazing against each other. Michael’s tummy felt like trapeze artists flipping and turning. He leaned forward trying to kiss Y/N. Maybe if I kiss him I won’t have to say it.. He mused to himself, trying to find a loophole.

But Y/N wasn’t having it. He quickly backed up before his lips could be touched by Michael’s pink pouty mouth, “Baby..” the word was sweet, but his voice was stern, “your sweet kisses won’t get you out of this.”

“Y/N please!!!” Michael exasperated, “I need your cock to- to fill me up.” he was a little proud of only stumbling over his words once.

“That’s better, Michael.” Y/N approved. He climbed off of Michael’s meaty thighs, grabbing Michael’s hips and turning him over. “Now let me hear more. You can do that for me, right baby?” Michael was on laying flat on his tummy now with Y/N knelt between his legs.

Michael looked over his shoulder, his blonde curls sweeping across his face. His blue eyes wildly lit up, seeing the bottle of lube nestled between his boyfriend’s hands.

Michael moaned quietly, the soft bed sheets becoming wet with his leaking tip. “My ass needs to be f-fucked by you. Your big cock,” he turned his face back around, staring at the pillow, “make it hurt when I walk.” he bit his lower lip, raising his ass in the air, “Please” he let out weakly.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. He didn’t think his cock could get any harder than it was at that moment. Hearing his sweet, overthinking boyfriend let that guard down for him.. He just wanted to kiss him.

“Such a good boy for me. Tell me.. Who makes you feel good?” he pressed on.

“You do.” Michael wiggled his rear end, his member gaining friction against the mattress.

Michael heard the wet sounds of the lube squirting onto Y/N’s hand and he involuntarily trembled, already imagining the wetness, the slickness it would cause.

“Y/N..” his crotch was mercilessly rutting against the sheets, “I - I need your cock in me please I can’t take it anymore.”

His boyfriend spread the lube on his throbbing hole. The coldness making Michael hiss in response. His entrance was teased by a finger, slowly intruding in, preparing him for the thickness that awaited.

Y/N prepared himself; coating the strawberry scented gel onto his cock. Michael picked out the flavor. Something about that boy loved the sweet and tart flavor of berries.

A strangled whimper caught in Michael’s dry throat as the head of Y/N’s dick teased his entrance. He was throbbing, aching, sweating for it.

Y/N chuckled through the groan that threatened to leave him as the tip of his cock rubbed against Michael’s hole. So pink and pretty; he wanted to destroy him.

“Y/N” Michael let his head fall on to the pillow dramatically, “I need you inside me now, I-I need you thick cock to split me,” he cried out, driven red.

Firm hands gripped his framed hips as Y/N pushed himself inside. His ears rand with the sound of his name being screamed by Michael. His tender voice sounded fragmented as he adjusted the the size. Y/N thickness spread him open. He clenched around the pulsing manhood; his own leaking cock, smashed between his body and the bed.

“Feels so good,” his mouth hung open against the pillow. Each buck of Y/N’s hips sent Michael into a deeper facet of pleasure.

Michael felt a set of finger tangle in his tousled curls, gripping them tightly. “You like that, baby? Tell me how good I make you feel.” Y/N groaned as his balls slapped against Michael, “Let them hear you, boy wonder.”

“Y-yes, fuck. Y/N you. You make me feel so good.” he said between gritted teeth.

Y/N tugged his hair harder, making him turn his head over his shoulder. Blue eyes brimmed with tears, teeth indentations on his plump lips from biting down so hard, the sight was enough to make Y/N explode.

Michael’s eyes wandered down to his backside. Mesmerized by how Y/N’s cock disappeared in him. Watching as Y/N pulled out the shaft only to ram in back inside, made Michael rut deep enough on the mattress that he shot out a load of cum. He cried in ecstacy, feeling the hot liquid pool under his belly while Y/N continued his rhythmic repeat of movement.

Michael squeezed around Y/N. Constricting and releasing repeatedly. Y/N knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, “Sooo tight, baby” he pumped himself in and out before he finally came undone, releasing his hot cream on Michael’s back.

--

Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt a warm towel wiping his back. Y/N carefully collected his discarded seed off of Michael, ridding him of the sticky white stain. His eyes reopened as he felt Y/N lay besides him. Y/N still couldn’t believe Michael was his. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him affectionately.

Michael smiled into the kiss. “Was that okay?” he asked nervously.

“Are you kidding baby? That was,” he kissed him again, “so hot!” Y/N pulled back and took in Michael’s expression, “You didn’t feel too uncomfortable did you? You know I would neve-” Y/N began to second guess the experience. Of course he enjoyed it, but if Michael hadn’t he wouldn’t ever push him to try it again.

“Y/N,” Michael laughed, “I liked it.” he blushed profusely, hiding his face in his boyfriend's chest.

okay this took me longer to finish than i expected but here it is!!

tagging: @asstichrist @codyfernss @1-800-bitchcraft@daadddysprincesss@lovelylangdonx@theharvestgirloffire@sweetlangdon@americanhorrorstudies@ghostiesbedroom@queencocoakimmie@michael-langdon-appreciation@ritualmichael @cryptid-coalition@maso-xchrist @et-tu-bitch@eternal-langdon @langdonsrapture @russianspacegeckosexparty@yourkingcodyfern@missantichrist@flowersiren@cherryberryann @rocketgirl2410@infernal-langdon @ms-mead@kissydevil @nana15774 @hplotrfan@grangerdang-r @wroteclassicaly 

[cececreativewriting]

short play, “Tristan”

TRISTAN

Concept: In a song I like, there is a lyric that states “Maybe if life wasn’t so hard, if he got off to a better start, he’d be somewhere.” This play follows Tristan, aged 5 to 25, and his family. Mainly, we follow Tristan in his slow decline into drug usage, addiction, and overall a depressing life.

Setting: somewhat messy/run-down room with a bed, book self, table and desk

*Tristan is age 5 when the play begins, and he is sitting on his bed while his parents are screaming/arguing; you can hear them but cannot see them*

*Tristan is rocking back and forth in his bed, clearly distraught*

*he pulls out a notebook and begins to draw a dragon. he hangs it up on his wall, and in the corner it says “Tristan, age 4”*

*dad comes in*

Dad: Hey, Tristan

Tristan: Dad! Do you want to play?

Dad: Hey, uh, I would love to… but i need to take care of some errands.

*Tristan looks down, upset*

Dad: But hey! Tristan, do you want to help out?

Tristan: *jumps up, and happily yells* Yes, dad!

Dad: Okay. Remember that lemonade stand you had?

*Tristan nods happily*

Dad: Do you have any left over money from that?

*Tristan walks over to his piggy bank and shakes it*

Tristan: It sounds like i have some!

Dad: Okay, good. I’m gonna need to take it.

Tristan: But dad, it doesn’t come out until you break the piggy bank open.

Dad: Oh, let’s see.

*Tristan hands dad the piggy bank; dad shakes it then smashes it on the ground, ducks down, and picks up the money*

Dad: *under his breathe* $5.67 *starts to leave*

Tristan: How else can I help, Dad?

Dad: uhh, just keep drawing so we can fill our house with beautiful art *leaves*

*Tristan goes back to drawing, the shards of glass from the broken piggy bank remain on the ground; Tristan shuts his book, jumps out of bed, and runs off stage*

*Tristan’s mom comes in and picks up the pieces of broken glass, then makes Tristan’s bed. She is shaking the whole time; she leaves*

*Tristan enters, now age nine. his mother is yelling as he comes on stage in a beanie and worn down black converse.*

Mom: Tristan! Are you fucking serious! You can’t do that at school! You’re gonna get kicked out! Do you want to make your dad angry by getting kicked out!?

Tristan: No, mom

Mom: You know what, just fuck off Tristan. Just fuck off!

*Tristan seems unaffected. he pulls off his beanie and chucks it on his bed, then he grabs his sketchpad, and starts drawing*

Tristan: Fucking stupid grownups. Think they own the world.

*keeps drawing, angrily*

Tristan: I can’t wait to be a grownup and get to be in charge of myself.

*hangs up drawing. it is a drawing of a robot with guns for arms, shooting at a woman. the corner says ‘Tristan age 9’*

*hear a door slam, some quiet arguing, then it increases volume*

Dad: *from offstage* *mumbles* god fucking damnit. *Screams* Tristan! Get your fucking ass down here. NOW!

*You see the fear strike Tristan’s face as he quickly throws his sketchpad under his bed, and runs off stage*

*Tristan’s mom comes in and hangs up some other drawings Tristan has done. One from age 11, and one from age 12. The drawings get increasingly more violent as he ages. she leaves*

*Tristan (now 13) walks in with two friends, Zach and Phillip; Zach has purple hair and gauges, Phillip has bags under his eyes. Tristan has on another beanie*

*They enter, conversing, and all drop their stuff on the ground, then Phillip and Tristan jump on the bed, while Phillip sits in the chair next to the bookshelf*

Tristan: Well, like, what does it feel like?

Zach: It just makes things a little better. You’ll like it Tristan, trust me.

*Tristan looks nervous. Phillip pulls out a blunt, and lights it, then inhales and passes to Zach, who inhales then passes to Tristan; he nervously takes a hit, then exhales a large puff of smoke and violently coughs for a few seconds. His coughing turns into laughing, and then eventually all three of the boys are laughing loudly*

Phillip: Do you feel it?

Tristan: I don’t know. I think so.

Phillip: Well, what do you feel?

*Tristan grabs his sketchpad and begins to draw an alien doing various activities. The aline is looking up and has very large eyes. above him, there is a puff of smoke that turns into flowers*

Tristan: It feels like this.

*shows them drawing then hangs it up. of course, in the corner it says ‘Tristan age 13’*

Zach: Let’s go grub! I know the convenience store on Main and Holly doesn’t have any security cameras.

*They all jump up, grab their stuff, and run off stage*

*Tristan’s mom walks in, sprays febreeze everywhere, and starts to tidy up*

Mom: Oh, Tristan *as she pulls out a bong from under his bed and puts it on his desk, along with a few half full bottles of whiskey*

*Tristan enters, age 16, with Zach, who now has green hair. They are talking about how dumb their english teacher is; Tristan grabs the bong and takes a rip, then hands it to Zach*

Tristan: She’s such a bitch. She’s probably just mad that her husband left her or something. Dumb bitch.

Zach: I know! Why do bitches always have to be so fucking stupid? *takes a rip* Anyways, fuck it. Let’s get high.

*Zach pulls out a little bag and throws it to Tristan, who smiles, takes off his beanie, and grabs his sketch pad. He pours out some white powder and a razor blade, then cuts up a few lines on his sketchpad*

Tristan: You got a dollar?

*Zach pulls out a crunched up dollar from his pocket. Tristan flattens it, rolls it up, and snorts a line. He leans his head back to let the powder fall deeper into his nose. His eyes widen and he lets out a big, happy sigh; he hands the sketch pad to Zach, who with ease, does a line, then hands the sketchpad back to Tristan*

*Tristan begins to draw, then quickly shuts his sketchpad and chucks it under his bed as his dad walks in, drunk and falling over*

Dad: Tristan

*Tristan looks up*

Dad: You got any booze?

Tristan: *looks at remainder of alcohol* I don't know dad, do you have any money?

*Dad grunts, then hands Tristan 5$. Tristan hands an almost finished bottle of whiskey to him*

Tristan: Want a line?

Dad: Fuck yeah

*Tristan racks lines on the back of Zach’s phone. They each snort one*

Dad: Thanks, Tristan.

*Tristan smiles, but is obviously annoyed, and his dad walks out. He gets his sketch pad and begins to draw as Zach takes a bong rip, then evidently falls asleep above the covers*

*Tristan hangs up a drawing of a man with knives for each finger, above clouds that states ‘I AM GOD’ and says ’T 16’ in the corner; He takes another line, then exits*

*Tristan’s mom comes in, with a black eye. She puts a blanket over Zach, and she hangs up a framed diploma on Tristan’s wall. She exits, tired, and Tristan enters. He is now 18, and he still has on a beanie. There are bags under his eyes. He is holding two bags.*

Tristan: Zach! *drops bags* Wake up!

Zach: What!

Tristan: Come on man. Look what i got.

*Tristan pulls out a couple bottles of vodka, tequila, and a lot of beer.*

Zach: Oh shit *grabs bottle and takes a swig* Tristan, man. I don’t wanna get all fucking weird and shit, but I’m proud of you man. You graduated, that’s something I couldn’t do. So, uh, I got you something.

*Zach pulls out two tabs of acid; they each put it on their tongue and the spot light focuses on both of them, while there are lots of darker lights around them. For this scene, the spotlight remains on Zach and Tristan (spotlight is constantly switching between very bright colors) as various people come in and out, drinking, smoking, doing lines, etc. Tristan and Zach just look around in awe (they’re tripping) for the whole scene. They look doped out, and they do not interact with the mass amounts of people that come in and out of his room. eventually, everyone is gone, and the room is a mess. Zach and Tristan look at each other, laugh, then both fall back on the bed, and fall asleep*

*Tristan’s mom walks in and begins to clean*

Mom: What has happened to you, my sweet boy? *kisses Tristan on the cheek as he sleeps*

*Finishes cleaning, then looks at the boys endearingly, sighs, and hangs up a very trippy drawing that says in the corner ’T 18’. She walks out.*

*Tristan and Zach get up and the song “Killing in the Name” by Rage the Machine comes on, while they take bong rips and draw; Tristan is now 21*

Tristan: Naw man. I’m telling you, I am really onto something right now. I’m gonna get my shit together you know. I swear I think this is gonna work out. *phone rings* Hello? Yeah, come to my room. *hangs up*

*a few seconds later a boy who looks about 15 comes in*

Tristan: Whatdya want?

Young boy: Uh, can I get 5 bars?

Tristan: *pulls out pill bottle and pours pills all over his notepad, then hands five to the kid, who pays him* Be careful with those. They can make you dumb.

*Kid nods and leaves*

Tristan: Zach, I really think I’m gonna make it. I’m making so much money off of this.

Zach: Can we at least try it?

Tristan: Come on Zach, we can’t blow it all. We gotta make money.

Zach: How can we sell it if we don’t know how good it is?

Tristan: *sighs* You’re right.

*Girl with long straight hair walks in and sits on Tristan’s lap*

Tristan: Okay, so Lilleth, I think we gotta try the shit and make sure it’s good.

Lilleth: Baby, I was thinking the same thing. *Pulls out baggy, empties little rocks onto sketch pad and crushes them up with a spoon. continues preparing while conversation goes on*

Zach: *Gets up* Tristan, you got a belt?

Tristan: Yeah, the bookshelf *while looking at Lilleth, in love, kissing her cheek*

*Zach sits on bed and hands Lilleth the belt. She tightens it around her arm, sticks a needle in her arm as Tristan holds the belt tightly on her. Once it is all in, she looks at Tristan smiles, and falls back on the pillow, with a huge smile; Tristan and Zach both shoot up*

Zach: Damn ! This shit is amazing…

Lilleth: I fucking know

Tristan: You guys, we’re onto something big here. We can cut this shit and double our profits. Fuck it, even triple it with some dumb kids. We’re gonna make it big, guys. We’re gonna fucking make it big.

*Lilleth and Tristan start kissing, Zach is just doped out staring at the ceiling; Tristan pulls out sketchpad, puts the remaining powder in his gums, then starts drawing. He hands up a picture of a big, 3d heart, and it says ’T 21’ in the corner; Zach leaves, Tristan and Lilleth fall asleep*

*Tristan’s mom comes in, looks at the mess, sighs*

Mom: fucking Tristan *leaves*

*Lilleth wakes up and starts pacing around the room. Eventually, Tristan wakes up too.*

Tristan: Baby, why are you up?

Lilleth: Tristan i cant fucking do this anymore. I can’t fucking do this.

Tristan: Baby, what?

Lilleth: Look at us Tristan! We’re 25 years fucking old. We can't keep fucking living like this, we cant keep fucking around, we cant keep being fucking dumb Tristan we… I’m pregnant Tristan.

Tristan: We can make it work, Lilleth. We can do it! I’d do anything for you baby.

*Lilleth keeps pacing, Tristan gets up and hugs her, she cries.*

Tristan: Come on baby, just take another line, you’ll feel better.

Lilleth: You’re right. You’re right. We can do this. We can raise this baby together. We can raise it to be better than us, we can raise a doctor! A lawyer!

Tristan: Baby, we can do anything together. We’re gonna be okay, I promise.

Lilleth: I love you, Tristan.

Tristan: I love you too baby… We can look into getting an abortion tomorrow.

*Lilleth runs out, Tristan follows.*

*Mom walks in and hangs up two drawings she rips out of his notebook. One is a drawing of Lilleth with a baby bump. The next is a drawing of a broken heart. And lastly, a tombstone, that states that both Lilleth and the baby have died. spot light focuses on each drawing*

THE END

[azaraspirit]

Concept: making out with pop punk/emo!Tom to *insert pop punk band here* and it leads to something more 😏 because isn’t that the dream? Or at least my dream

ok nonnie you’re making me really like punk tom and im here for it and i would like more punk tom concepts in my life and im probably gonna get a bit carried away with this haha

“Okay if you’re gonna be with Tom, then I want Harrison.” Hannah said as you two drove home. 

You rolled your eyes. “Really, Haz? He seems kind of a dick...” From what you saw, Haz didn’t seem like the bf type and you weren’t sure if you wanted your friend with a guy like that.

“You can’t say shit. You don’t even like metal, remember?”

“Okay you got me there. I just don’t want you to get hurt. But maybe he won’t be so bad when we hang out later tonight.”

Hannah almost slammed the brakes. “Wait so you’re actually going with this?!”

You shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Besides Tom is pretty cute and was really concerned about my health. That shows character.”

“You just wanna bone him.” she spoke.

You dropped your lower draw and shoved her arm. “Do no!”

“Oh, so if the chance comes up you wouldn’t kiss him?” she sneered.

“I barely know him!”

“I noticed you didn’t answer the question.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out and heat rushed to your cheeks. “Yeah well...”

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Okay maybe...so let’s get something nice to wear for tonight?”

“Already on it.”

Tom texted you the info for tonight. You smiled as you texted back, Hannah watching from the side as she pulled in the parking lot of the mall. “Where’s it at?”

“Some club downtown. So nothing to fancy? Maybe wear black? He seems to like that color.” Yeah maybe you wanna impress him, just enough to show that you like him. 

I’ll wear something black you texted him.

Don’t be stealing my look now, y/n he replied.

Psh maybe I’m starting a goth phase too

We could always have another band mate ;)

funny i cant sing worth shit 

Maybe just be on the stage and look pretty

You laughed as you replied, Hannah perking her brow in interest. “What is he saying?” 

“Nothing.” You stuck a tongue at her. Pretty? He thinks I’m pretty?

“Rude.” she replied.

My friend likes Harrison btw you texted when Hannah wasn’t looking. She’ll thank me later, you thought, grinning.

Your phone buzzed, Tom already replying. Funny he likes her too. We gotta set them up tonight. 

For sure.

You and Hannah focused on your outfits, you putting your phone in your pocket. 

“I’d like something fun,” you said, checking out the racks. “Maybe like a black party dress or something.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Maybe this?” She pulled out a gown, a bit short for your liking and had a v neck that would show too much boob.

“God, Hannah! I’m not a hooker! That’s way too low cut!”

“Jeesh, sorry Grandma.” Hannah rolled her eyes but instead of putting it back, she kept it.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“What? I’m not afraid to show some skin.”

“How are we even friends?” you laughed.

“Don’t question our friendship, just enjoy it.” Hannah remarked.

You laughed again, still looking through the clearance section. “Not much black here.” you murmured.

Something caut your eye from the back wall. You moved towards it to get a better look and you eyes widened. A black dress hung from the wall. It was simple yet elegant. It was sleeveless with a curved neck line designed with ruffles. You rushed over to it and grabbed your size, immediately going to the dressing room.

You came back out and your friend whistled. “Damn girl!”

“Not too fancy is it?”

She shook her head. “You look hot!”

You waved her off, scoffing. “Please.”

“You’re definitely getting it.”

“What about yours?” You both went back into the dressing room. You switched to your normal clothes and Hannah tried her dress on. 

“I look perfectly slutty,” Hannah smiled.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall. “I feel sorry for Haz.”

“Shut up.” Hannah scolded.

You both made your purches and went to a couple more shops and grabbed lunch. With a new dress, comes new shoes and accessories too. 

*

Find anything black? Tom texted.

You blushed, smiling as you replied. Yeah. We both did. 

Mind if I get a look see?

Not till tonight.

Aw man thought I could get a preview

nope

damn ok well see you soon

see ya

You drove this time, pulling up to the club. The guard blocked the entrance but Tom stepped outside to speak to him but he was too busy staring at you before doing so. 

You both giggled. “I think he likes the dress.”

“You look amazing.” he breathed.

“Thanks. You do too.” He was dressed in black also but a little nicer than when he was on stage when you first saw him, wearing a button down shirt and matching jeans. He still had on eyeliner which was really turning you on. 

“They’re with me.” he told the guard and he let you guys pass. 

“Glad you guys came. Haz wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You laughed. “Yeah well neither did Hannah.”

Tom led you to a more private area of the club on the second floor. “How famous are you guys?”

He shrugged. “Enough to have our own club.”

“I told you about this before. But you weren’t listening.” Hannah informed.

You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, they made it!” Haz said, a little too excitingly, as you guys approached them.

“You okay?” he asked you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

Haz looked over at Hannah, and smiled. “Wow you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, you too.”

“Wanna dance?”

Hannah nodded and Haz took her hand, leading her off somewhere. “Well that went well.” you told Tom.

“Haz is a ladies man, what can I say?”

“What about you?”

“Not as easily impressed.”

“Darn. Cause I kind of like you.” you blurted out, before you could stop yourself.

Tom stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your back. He nipped at your ear lobe. “I like you, too.”

Your entire frame shuddered, goosebumps flooding your skin. You had no self control as you kissed him, pulling him close to you. His hands found your waist and kissed back, heat building between you. You didn’t care that everyone could see. You didn’t care that you barely knew him. You just didn’t. Care. All you wanted his lips against yours and his hands all over you. 

You pulled back, blinking out of surprise.

“What?” he grinned.

“You have a tongue piercing?” 

“Oh yeah.” He stuck his tongue our, revealing the silver stud. You nearly cummed on the spot.

“Damn, that’s hot.”

“Wanna know how it feels?” he asked.

You nodded, gawking at him.

Tom kissed you again and after a few seconds, you let him slip his tongue in your mouth and good god! It was such a turn on feeling the little round stub against your tongue.

You moaned as you kissed, sucking on his tongue. Tom held you even tighter. You pressed him against a black column and gripped his hair.

After that, it was all a blur. You forgot about anyone else and you wanted your clothes to be anywhere but on your body. Tom managed to tear away from you and led you to some dark room where things continued to heat up.You weren’t sure what happened. But it was damn hot and you were still coming down from your high as you slipped your dress back on, Tom zipping you up.

“You think they noticed our absense?” he asked.

“Please I bet they did the same thing we did.”

Tom laughed. “Maybe we can stay for a while then.”

“Hm, I think that’s a good idea.” You pulled him into another heated kiss, Tom moaning. You could not get enough of that tongue piercing. 

“You’re so hot.” you moaned. 

Tom smirked, licking his lips as he gazed at you with darkened eyes. “Funny. Was gonna say the same about you.”

[spideyscnse]

Mask

Word Count: 1.5K

Pairing: Stark!Avenger!Reader x Peter Parker

Warnings: just lots of fLuFf ???

Summary: Y/N is hanging out with Peter in his room as they do homework, until she becomes a bit curious about how the suit works and the two of them end up getting distracted.

Note: Please don’t plagiarise my work!

Masterlist

*

“So, which idea would you rather go with?” Peter Parker said, gesturing at the two mind maps that you’d worked together on and you’d taped onto the wall.

“I like the first one more,” You said contemplatively, from where you were sitting on the top bunk of his bed—the one you slept in whenever you slept over.

The two of you always worked together whenever the teacher allowed you to pick your pairs, having always clicked with each other and agreed with ideas since you’d met two years back, at the airport battle—only after discovering that you actually both went to the same school.

Even the teachers sometimes paired you two together, knowing how well you worked together and how good the work you did together always was.

Besides, it wasn’t exactly a secret to everyone (except for Peter) that you had a massive crush on him.

“I like it, too,” Peter said, nodding in agreement, “I feel like we could expand it,” he pointed to one particular area of the mind map, “here, and pull some thoughts from the other idea to build on our concept.”

“Yeah,” You said, hopping down from your spot on the top bunk to join him where he was sitting on the carpeted floor, “That’d be good. Wanna get brainstorming?”

He shrugged, “Sure,” and pulled out two pencils, passing one to you with a smile, because he knew that you neverhad pencils, and you gave him a grateful smile in thanks, taking the pencil between your fingers.

Unrolling a massive roll of paper that Peter kept under his desk, he tore off a sizable section and spread it out on the floor.

“So, we can start here,” You said, drawing a circle at the middle of the paper and writing the name of your concept inside of it, “And then stretch out with the sub-sections.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Peter said, a tiny bit of pink rising to his cheeks when you patted his hand and told him, “Let’s get going, then.”

Even though you had seen his tiny blush, you knew that he’d also spotted the slight redness of your cheeks before you’d averted your gaze and covered your face with your long brown hair as you began to scribble across the paper.

After about three quarters of the paper was filled in, your hand was starting to ache, and you were really ready to take a break.

Glancing over, you noticed that Peter was still consumed in his work, his face super close to the paper as he tapped his pencil against the side of his head in a way that you found extremely cute, especially as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I think I got it!” He exclaimed suddenly, turning to you, making you jump.

You weren’t fast enough to look away and pretend like you hadn’t been staring at him, and as you realised that you’d just been caught staring, heat rose to your cheeks and you said, “Really?” In a feeble attempt to cover up your embarrassment, even though the small, almost smug smile at the corner of Peter’s lips as he turned away and wrote down whatever idea he’d thought of on the paper, revealed that he had definitelycaught you.

Desperately trying to quell the embarrassment building inside of you, you bit your lip and glanced around his room, taking in the science-y things, the several Star Wars items, the unmade bed, and then the blue and red pile stuffed at the corner of his room, right beside his desk.

The all-too-familiar Spiderman suit that your dad had made for him.

“Hey, Pete,” you said, crawling over to the suit and grabbing it carefully, before making your way up to the top bunk, “How does your suit work, exactly?”

“Didn’t you help to build it?” He said, his attention now fully on you as he placed his pencil on the floor, kicking the massive piece of paper to the side as you pulled out the mask from the pile and looked inside of it, checking to see if there was anything special in there.

“I helped to designit,” You corrected, shaking your head, “You know, pick the colours and everything. My dad is very possessive about his own projects—so I usually just work on my own stuff because he doesn’t like it when I accidentally mess things up.” You chuckled a bit.

“Your Dad’s a genius, though,” Peter said with a light laugh, swinging around the bed frame to climb up the ladder and reach your bunk, “Did you know that I have so manydifferent kinds of webs now? It used to be just the one kind, but now there are a ton of them.”

“I heard that you managed to hack it,” You said with a laugh, which made Peter’s ears go red, “So clearly my Dad’s not too genius. Even though he kind of is. But you know.”

“That was Ned, actually,” He said, sitting directly opposite you, picking up the suit in a bundle as he felt the familiar material between his fingers, “He’s better at that sort of thing.”

“What, hacking Spiderman suits?” You joked, still holding the mask in your hands.

“Not specifically,” He laughed, “Doing tech stuff in general.”

“Oh, well, you’re pretty good at that, too,” You said, slapping his shoulder lightly, half-smiling.

“Says the tech-genius daughter of Tony Stark,” He scoffed.

“Says Spiderman,” You retorted, “I don’t even have a superhero title.”

He shook his head, “You don’t needa title, Y/N.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s pretty cool to have one,” You said, furrowing your eyebrows as you noticed that the eyes of the suit had special mechanisms that allowed the eyes to change size, something you’d never really wondered about before, “Whoa, how does this mask work, exactly?”

“You wear a mask, too,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah, but I built my own one, and it’s not as cool as yours,” You said, still fascinated by all the tech hidden inside the spandex-like material.

“You can try it on, if you want to,” Peter said with a shrug, a half-smile on his lips, “If you’re so interested in it.”

Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

This made Peter laugh a bit, “Sure.”

Pulling the mask over your head, you blinked several times, getting yourself adjusted to the mechanics of it, feeling the whirring of the eyes as you furrowed your brows, the expression on the mask no doubt changing along with yours.

“Why do you look so confused?” Peter asked in amusement.

“Do I?” You asked, reaching up to touch your face and feel the mechanics of the mask, “It feels so weird.”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to it,” He said with a chuckle, “I mean, your suit is made out of iron, so—,”

“It’s actually a nickel-titanium alloy,” You corrected, as you always did.

“Right, right,” He replied, shaking his head in amusement, “I think you’ve told me before.”

“Yes, but you always forget,” You said, before the two of you lapsed into silence.

After a long moment of neither of you saying anything, you finally sighed and said, “Isn’t it so cool to be Spiderman? Like everyone knows you as Spidermanand you’re so iconic around New York and everything—,”

“Y/N, you’re awesome just the way you are,” He interrupted, cutting off your rambling.

“Everyone only ever knows me as Tony Stark’s daughter, and I know I’ll never be as smart as him, or as strong as him, and it’s just—,”

“Hey,” He said, cutting you off again, putting his hands on your shoulders, “Y/N, stop. You’re amazing just as you are. You’re amazing and awesome and great and beautiful—title or not. Even if you weren’tTony Stark’s daughter, I’d still think you’re so wonderful because you’re you, Y/N. Even if you weren’t at all related to Tony Stark, I think I’d still…” he swallowed, blinking several times as if to clear his thoughts.

“Pete?” You asked softly, wondering if he was going to continue.

“I think I’d still like you, Y/N,” he blurted out, his cheeks turning pink, “I’d still like you somuch. Because you’re perfect just the way you are—mask or not.”

“Pete…” You whispered as you pulled the Spiderman mask over your head so that you could really see Peter, just with your own eyes rather than through the mask, and before you knew it the distance between the two of you was gone and you were kissing—noses pressed together, hands in hair kissing—and you felt the sparks travel all the way through your body.

When you finally pulled apart, you said softly, a smile on your lips, “Peter, I like you too.”

You pulled him into a hug, breathing in a deep breath as you said, “Mask or no mask.”

( Masterlist )

[vinylackles]

pinned

word count: 1,800

summary: sam has never had much luck with homes, but you’re on a mission to change that

all my works || request imagines here

You loved the bunker, you really truly did. It’s concrete walls and long hallways had become so endearing to you over the years you’d spent there with the boys. It held memories for you - cooking in the kitchen with Dean, your first kiss (any many there after) with your boyfriend Sam. Reading over lore books with Cas, making popcorn for the movies you watched when you could. It had really become home to you... you just wished Sam felt the same way.

Every time you went into Sam’s room you couldn’t help but sigh a little bit. It looked almost exactly as it did when he first stepped foot in it, besides the pair of shoes on the floor, the empty duffle bag in the corner, and all the books he had lugged in from the library. You’d convinced him to buy a new blanket and lamp, but that was about all he would muster in terms of personalizing the place. And you understood why.

No matter how much Sam tried to deny it, he never really wanted to call anywhere home anymore. Why would he? His first one burnt down, and then his apartment after that. Everywhere he put down roots and tried to make his own just fell apart, the life he had there crumbling with it. He had decided long ago to stick to dingy motel rooms and the passenger seat of the impala. You’d first caught on when he talked about how the bunker was where you all worked, not where you lived. But when you asked him about it later he’d explained how he felt, and you could tell that something was just holding him back from truly making it somewhere for him to live. 

Which is how you ended up stuck with bags on each arm, lugging them into the bunker after a long day of shopping. You were determined to make that place home for him, no matter what it took. 

Lucky for you, Dean had actually listened to you and managed to get him out of the bunker for the afternoon. He’d rummaged up a story about needing a specific herb for a new ritual he wanted to try, and how it only grew in one specific place. Day trip for the boys, decorating time for you. 

You took all the bags back to your and Sam’s room, leaving again to track down a hammer and nails. Once you had everything together that you needed, you got to work hanging, arranging and brightening up the space as best you could before the boys got back.

SAM’S POV:

It was oddly quiet when he got back to the bunker. He knew that Y/N was there, and he’d expected to hear her music or a TV on. 

“Well, um, I’m going to go organize the.... herb drawer,” Dean said very matter of factly, starting to walk away in the opposite direction of where they stored their ingredients.

“Since when do we have an herb drawer?” Sam asked, his suspicion growing. 

“Since... now?”

“Okay, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’ve been acting weird all day? Pshhh, you’ve been acting weird all day. You weirdo.” Dean deflected, slowly inching his way down the hallway. Always so skilled with the come-backs. 

“Uh-huh.... right,” Sam narrowed his eyes, prepared to follow his brother until Y/N appeared through the other entrance, a nervous smile on her face as she came up to him, pulling him into a hug. Something was definitely up. 

“I’m assuming you have something to do with why he’s been so keyed up all day?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Y/N shrugged, stepping up on her tip-toes to kiss him. He kissed her back, not really caring about what was going on with Dean for a moment. He’d missed her, even if it’d only been a few hours. 

“Maybe,” she grinned.

“You wanna fill me in?” 

“Promise to have an open mind?” She asked, using her best puppy dog eyes. She only pulled those out on rare occasions, and it gave him a bit of a pit in his stomach. There was no telling what she had been up to. 

“I’ll try?” was all he could muster.

“Good enough for me. Come see.” She took his hand, so small compared to his, and pulled him down the hallway and to the right. He did a bit of a double take to make sure he was in the right room. 

It looked... different. There was a new rug on the floor, some small decorations on the dresser. The books that had been stacked on the shelf by the head of the bed were up on a bookshelf - he recognized it later as the one from the basement that had been cleaned up. Where they had stood were picture frames, all different sizes. And as he went down each one, he couldn’t help but smile.

There was one of him, Bobby and Dean when he was about 12, all of them sat up on the couch before a football game in Bobby’s living room. Next was one of him and Dean from when they were kids, one of the few pictures John took of them after Mom died. Dean had him in a head lock, a wide smile on both their faces. Next was a picture of him and Y/N after a hunt, both of them covered in bandages but laughing uncontrollably - Dean had told them they looked like mummies and snapped a picture. She still looked just as beautiful. He didn’t finish looking at them as the map on the other side of the room caught his eye.

It was rather large, covering most of the empty wall space with the outlines of the states, but that wasn’t what was interesting. He stepped closer, fingertips running over the multicolored pins that were carefully placed throughout the states, each one with a tiny little tag on it. It took him a moment to place the names that were scribbled on them in Y/N’s scrawl. Diana in Baltimore, Lucas in Wisconsin, Tyler in Connecticut. It clicked for him after that. All names of people that he had helped save, scattered all across the map, from coast to coast. 

“How long did this take you?” He asked in awe.

“The pins only took a few hours, but i’ve been working on the list for a while now. The pictures came from some of your and Dean’s old stuff. I hope it’s not too much,” she murmured, and he knew she was beginning to second guess herself for redoing the room. He had been reluctant to it before, that was true.

“Are you kidding? I love it!” He exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but pull her to him and kiss her. He could feel the surprise on her lips for a moment, but she melted into him like she always did. He pressed her to him, his hand against the small of her back. 

“Really? You really love it?” She asked, beaming.

“Yeah, it really makes it feel more like h-”

He cut himself off before he could finish.

“It’s okay Sam. Say it,” she encouraged, offering him a soft smile as she ran a hand over his cheek. He leaned into her palm automatically. He wanted to give into it so bad, but it terrified him. It sounded irrational to him when he tried to explain how he felt about the whole concept, but it wasn’t something that he could help. 

“Baby,” he whispered, unable to say anything else. He turned his head a bit, pressing a kiss to her hand, hoping she understood his silent apology.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you’re scared. But we’re safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen to me, or Dean or you or Cas or anybody in these walls, okay? It’s where were gonna keep building good memories, not make any new bad ones. It’s our home. We’re home.”

He could only nod, a bit surprised at the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He had never realized how much being ‘homeless’ had really weighed on him until now. She wiped them away with her thumbs. 

“Yeah... home.” He tested out the word, letting it bring a cautious smile to his lips. Y/N looked as if she was going to burst with joy, but she held it in as best she could, rocking a bit on her heels in excitement as she gave him time to process. 

“C’mere,” he chuckled, pulling her into another hug. He lifted her up off her feet this time, spinning a bit until they were on the bed, her falling on top of him as he landed on the pillows. He brushed her hair back from her face, watching her beam down at him. 

“Thank you, for all of this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I’m glad you like it,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss him. Her hair fell through his finger, tickling at his cheeks. 

“By the way, next time you need to hatch a master plan, you should probably enlist someone other than Dean as your cover. Pretty sure we drove all the way to Missouri so he could buy some oregano,” Sam teased.

“I have limited options you know,” she countered, scrunching her nose. She yawned halfway through, making it quite possibly one of the cutest things Sam had ever seen.

“Tired hmm? Wanna take a nap?” He hummed, running a thumb along her cheek.

“Decorating is hard work you know. Plus, that bookshelf is made of some heavy duty shit. That thing was weighs a ton,” she explained, tucking her head down and resting it on his chest. His arms went around her automatically - it was how they usually slept, both arms around her. Nothing could get to her if she was in his arms, he was sure of that.

“Sleep then. I could go for some shut eye myself,” he assured her, even though it was a lie. He knew she’d never go to sleep if he was still up, not after he was gone all day.

“Okay,” she sighed, cuddling herself closer to him. He rested his cheek on the crown of her head, pressing a few kisses into her hair and beginning to hum as she held onto him, her breathing getting deeper and deeper as she fell asleep.

He had mastered the art of retrieving the blanket from the end of the bed without waking her - she fell asleep on him often - and as he pulled it over the both of them he reminded himself of a new pin he wanted to place when she woke up.

A bright red one, right in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas.

And he would label it home.

[usernamingishard]

Life is a montage: atleast mine is

 As a child I had a strong connection to film, stories, books and cartoons. But first, let me take a moment to describe that any matter, any entity, any item or concept, any notion or instrument is but a branch, with many branching leaves or sometimes further branches. A computer is not just a computer, it's also what that computer can do, it's also what that computer is made of, it's also a single technological advancement amid a timeline of others, it's also a conversation about the gadgets available for the youth. So when I say I had a strong connection to film, stories, books and cartoons, I don't mean just the narration of other's lives through whatever media available whether that media is a book or TV show. What I mean is, I am interested in the concept of three act structure, I am interested in the concept of reocurring themes, I am interested in the power and effect of framing, I am interested in the expression of emotion through facial expressions in movies, and sound effects in cartoons. I spent my childhood delving into stories of heroes, of villains turned good guys, of Romance, of the friendship between a boy and his dog, of how people go through heartache, of how High school is going to be, of what bullies look like and how to stand up to them. I see Movie, Books and cartoons (I'll call Media for short) in every day life, and I see every aspect of my life in Media. This could be called natural, everyone has had their head wrapped around something as a child, but Media is different in that it is an expression of life itself, so in these 50 years since the first product of film, and thousands since the first written word, every part of life has been incorporated atleast once. It'll be very hard to remember a concept or matter or life event that hasn't been mentioned in one way or another in a movie, let alone books. Technologies' effects on life? Black mirror is a single example. Hitler or pearl harbor? Inglorious bastards and a movie of the same name. Coffee? I think you can take a few minutes to find a movie where a character invites to have coffe or drinks. Standing up to bullies? I guess all/most of the superhero movies? However, when Media express them, they express them in such dramatic and impactful way, and I learned that, and incorporated it into my expectations. each wink furthers or enhances the plot, each misstep or stutter is exposition about the character, each door opening scene is suspense. Naturally, the way the plot moves also becomes of the things that I expect in life. There's a happy ending for every plot and subplot, the main character (easily known to be me) gets the love of his life, and there's a solution and reason to this emptiness I feel inside me.

But real life? It's nothing like that. Many times a family member may make me doubt myself without even them actually being toxic, nor should I leave them, nor do we solve their attitude, either by talking or actual effort, unlike any of the movies I've watched. I've never had a relationship no matter the efforts I've payed into the few crushes that I've had the past few years, even though that's how all books end. And the personal flaws in the main character have been with me since childhood, unlike any of the comic book characters I've read grow over them. And worst? Music doesn't play whenever something important happens. Life feels unscripted, random, inconsiderate, unfeeling. I feel out of place so often that I don’t consider myself to be a normal neurotypical, even though I most probably am. However, none of this compares to the aftermath of my last crush. For reasons I shan't delve into, I very vigorously wished to accomplish having her by my side, and as such, turned her standards into my own goals, and became obsessed with bursting through limits not set for me. All through that period, and a few months after rejection, I was left clueless. I had a line to success that I was not on, neither at the failing side nor at the successful side. I felt out of tune. I knew I wasn't a man, and I knew I wasn't human. because I set my whole world on that scale that I was not even in league with. I wasn't under her standards nor was I above, I was her friend. A different zone, you could say. She appreciated and loved me without the hope of being her lover, but I didn't acknowledge that. During that year, nothing made sense, everything I've ever seen in a movie or a book or a TV show was far from applicable to my life. There were no happy endings, no retribution, no closure infact, no good music, no starry skies, no good times with good friends, no family bonding moments. I spent that period just attending school and sleeping. A lifeless robot going through the norms. Meanwhile, inside me was something heavy crushing against my ribs, that although heavy, was empty.

So, I learned to not think about it. This was a very hard lesson that I learned to master. I cut off from my crush for a while,  got busy in friends, in anytime I had outside, in any small accomplishments I can consider. Slowly I started to acknowledge the good little things, such as that one positive friend, listening to a good song without interruption, and having lunch with the family after being too hungry at school. I acknowledged throughout that whole time that a girl wasn’t and couldn’t have been the reason behind the way I feel. It’s just that life didn’t go my way for the millionth time, and that was just my last straw. I accepted that life has no absolutely no algorithms, artistic cycles or patterns, in other words no set series of events and experiences, reocurring themes or chronological set of circumstances and changes. As I said, I started to appreciate the little things, and accepted that this is all there is to life. No big event or shocking marriage or solution to a world problem, just a good cup of coffee every once in a while, and a new gift from a good considerate friend every other.

There's a drug in Egypt called Hash. I suspect that it's nothing more than a less intense version of weed, and those who I know tried both have said the same, but that’s not scientific evidence so I can’t say anything for sure. Basically, a high means any train of thought is 1. Unstopped, you can get to as deep a level as you’d like in thinking about something, and 2. It feels right. No matter what’s the issue you’re thinking about, you’re right to think about it now, you have the solution to it, it doesn’t feel out of place, and you’re accepted. But the train of thought can be anything. That’s why my friends who are there for the laughs can joke with each other and laugh for hours, while I can literally watch a movie and feel so ingrained into it. Mind you, not a movie on TV, a movie through my eyes. And that was my high, but lemme start from the beginning.

I was with a friend, and another called us, told us he has some stuff to try, so I told him to come. It wasn’t a blunt, it was a pure piece of the stuff, that we could put in a cup, hang a cigarette between the walls of the cup, and burn the Hash. You close the cup with a wallet or anything really, and when there is enough gas collected in there, u remove the wallet and inhale. We did that, playing nothing else matters by Metalica. A friend was laughing in silence, and the other was having red eyes and staring into the wilderness, and I was completely sane and normal. when the hash was snuffed out, they fished out the cigarette and gave it to me. I smoked it, when for some reason the latter half of the cigarette fell. I looked at it, and in a single moment I felt like I didn’t have within me the energy to pick it up in a million years. Thankfully my friend did, and gave me ashtray and told me to snuff the cigarette out, it’s done. I did as commanded, laid my back to the chair’s back, and everything cut to black.

What I thought being on drugs would feel like, was exactly what I felt. Although I have zero memories of this time and instantly woke up to people trying to wake me up, I remembered later feeling absolutely enthralled and impressed at every thought, and the sheer force of final solution that I had reached. I didn't have a single speck of trouble finding the solution to anything I thought, and I was so accurate. Nothing else matters, who does it represent to me? Of course my best friend from high school. Why? Well easily because when the singer says "never cared for what they do, ... what they know" we had a conversation that was just like that. And of course it makes sense that in this moment of high, I'd think of him, because he's the type of best friend I'd wanna show this feeling to, and because his moral compass might challenge the idea of smoking anyway, and indeed I felt like I did not at any moment question if this is right or wrong and just jumped into it. So it's natural that that thought would affect the next one.

What you just heard was flawless argument. There was no pressure to find the right thing to say, no wait process, and not a single moment of loss where something feels out of place or is the wrong answer. After I woke up from the black, I found that I was crying my balls out, and my two friends were trying to wake me to see what's up. They took me to the bathroom to wash my face. You know that dramatic scene in a movie where you look in a mirror and stare real hard so you start to regain control? I did that. My friend said salty things wake you up, so he brought us a sandwich. You know the after credits of The Avengers, how after all the thrill and action of the fight, the next scene to contrast that was the Shawerma scene? That's exactly what I saw, one friend munching in silence as he looked at the ground, the other contemplating god knows what in the sky. To almost make me regain consciousness the friend who brought the stuff went "what y'all just went through, that's trippin'", kinda like how a mafia guy goes "it's alright you have nothing to worry about all you need to do is etc, etc." And that's exactly what I was describing in the beginning. Every single breath these guys took, every single moment of silence, every chat was something out of a movie, and I was having the goddamn time of a lifetime. I was giggling like a lunatic, and at one point raised my hand and made a frame as if I'm filming them, zooming with my eye at the person who's speaking. Everything about a movie, I was so in control and comprehension of. For example, I once was sitting with some people at a pool. I'd look at the pool, the green, blue aqua lights, together with the waves of water would feel so serene and calm and beach like. I'd feel alone, relaxed, sleepy, everything you ever heard about looking at the beach. Then I'd flip my head 20 degrees to the left, and I'd see my friends. Even though we're still at the pool, the scenery changes so strongly, I'd suddenly feel more awake, feel a crowd of people even though there's only four others, feel socially awkward as I usually am around people. Feel the colours change towards orangy red. Look back to the pool, get sleepy, serene, quiet, look to the friends, feel awake, hyper, attentive, awkward. I also did that a couple of times because I was so amazed at how strange everything that was.

I smoked a whole bunch of times since then. I can't put the things in words that would do it justice.

Now, returning to my normal life, something quite strange started to take place. The thing that was lacking in my life, those scenic moments, those expectations, they started to somehow come alive. I started to learn things and change in personality, it felt as though every trip to the beach came at the right time and so I appreciated it more, I

[titleknown]

“Huh, wouldja lookit that.” Magnum said, in the dingy rec room of an ominous floating tower.

Between the peeling carrot-orange painted walls, adjacent to the yellowing refridgerator, was a tear in space, with a shadow swiftly approaching.

“Hey Opus!” Magnum turned her chitinous head towards the celling, one of her four bony limbs pointing towards the rip “Think it’s a new recruit for the union?” She took a swig of juice from her orange juice carton with her chitinous hand.

Opus opened a cross-pupilled eye. “Perhapppppsss” said the batlike creature, currently hanging by his tiny feet from the rafters.

Then the sign began blaring, “GARGANTUAN BATTLESHIP APPROACHING!” bright letters hovering in the air like the ghost of a neon sign.

“Yep.“ Opus said, flopping off the rafter, walking on his handlike wings to Magnum’s position.. ‘‘Sssssooooo mote it be.“

The creature only turned out to be moderately gigantic, though still it could only fit its snout through the rip from floor to celling. Its black-and-purple metallic frame might remind one of a model kit of a robotic shark if instead of glue the builder had used human stem cells as a replacement.

The words VOID SHARK drifted onto the air as the creature opened its mouth with a comical blretch, and a man stepped out, brushing a strand of purple-pink striped hair outside of his robotic eye.

“HELLO,” he said in the most refined voice a late-80s synthesizer could manage “OUR WILL APPRECIATION TO THE JOINING UNION?”

Both Magnum and Opus paused for a moment... “So, you wanna join the Union?” Magnum said, as Opus took out a form. The man brushed away his cloak dramatically as he pressed a button on the base of his mechanical arm.

Several overly ostentatious mechanical whirrings later, a pen popped out, and he began putting it to paper.

“Right, so,” Magnum continued, “We’re kind of a weird mix of freelance organization and Union, your dues will be taken out of each job you take under our banner, we’ll defend you from unfair treatment by employers and advocate for you in jobs you fit well with, and if you’re like super; turbo awful,” Magnum gave an aside under her breath “(Not that the standards for that are high mind you)” and carried on “We’ll kick you out, and I think I got all that, Opus, you got anything to say?”

Opus paused, hurgling in thought as was his wont, and then he responded with “What was your reasonnnnnn for coming here? Most of thossssse who join us do not come from happy places.”

The man paused while writing, and looked up. OUR WAS SICK THE FOR VIOLENT IMPERIALISM THE FOR SEAMON EMPIRE.” At that, Magnum gave a slight guilty flinch. She hadn’t worked for that empire, no, but she’d heard of it. And she’d heard that it was small potatoes compared to the creeps they’d worked for.

The man continued “AND OUR HEAR OUR CAN WORKED OF OURSELVES, TAKING THOSE THAT PERSON KNOW TO WHAT IT WERE APPRECIATION!”

Magnum juddered a little. Whereas Opus hurgled a bit more in pensive thought, before responding. “Welllll, we will try to avoid that.” as the man finished with his doctor’s scrawl of a signature “We havvvvvve been trying, as godssssss know we mussssst...”

Magnum noticed a bit of a downward turn in Opus’ speech. But if there were doubts beyond that his eyes did not betray him.

“THANKED YOU ARE!” the man said as he handed the clipboard to Opus, striking a glamourous pose as he did so. Magnum could swear she saw the Void Shark’s eyes rolling, even if they weren’t visible through the crack.

“Meeting’s tomorrow as 7 XM, Void Standard Time, we’ll brief ya more there.” Magnum said. The man gave a simple thumbs up and, with a flourish of his shiny red boots and glimmering cape, turned around and back into the maw of the shark, flying away and the rip in spacetime closing behind him.

Magnum paused for a moment., “Hey Opus, you ever have any regrets?”

“Perhapsssss. As much as you have right now. But, the thing with regretsssss is you can only move forwarrrrrrd with whattttt good you do rrrrrright now. And I mussssst ask, do you have any unnnnn-regrets you are making right now?”

And Magnum was left for quite a while thinking about that...

So, yeah, I wrote this drabble after I drew the little thingie for it! I do hope I wrote the characterization well here and, rest assured, I do plan to write profiles out for VOID SHARK and H.O.R.S.E. (The name of the dude on there) eventually!

As per usual, this drabble is under a CC-BY-SA license for direct adaptation, but all the characters/concepts/settings/ect are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY-Vanilla license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator! 

And, if you wanna support me, maybe check out my Patreon, or even just send a Ko-Fi my way! Every penny is appreciated, and I am eternally grateful for those who donate!

[ariannnawinchester]

Screw you.

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam and some bar skank

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language and Smut.

Summary: Reader is super into Dean, but can’t stand that he hits on other girls. He’s oblivious to her feelings. He’s into her too but avoids it because of his self hate complex. What happens when he gets slightly jealous??

A/N: I had to write this. I heard a song and inspiration struck. Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism and feedback is highly appreciated.

You hated the jittery feeling, the one that felt like butterflies fluttering in your belly. You hated the racing heart beat, the one that made you feel weak in the knees and turned your cheeks crimson. You hated the sweaty palms, the one caused by images of him racing through your mind. You hated it. You hated the way you felt. You hated him. And, you hated how much you loved him.

You didn’t understand this. The whole concept just confused you. It made you lose your bearing. You hated not being in control. And, when it came to him, you had no control.

None.

With his stupid green eyes and his stupid goddamn smile, he knocked the breath right out of your lungs and he didn’t even know. He didn’t know how he unsettled you, he didn’t know that he drove to the edge of insanity. You didn’t want to need him, you didn’t want him. If you didn’t need him then you won’t give him the chance to hurt you, then you won’t have to deal with the heart ache.

Besides, why would a guy like Dean Winchester want a girl like you?

You were you.

Too smart for your own good. Too loud or too quiet. Too impulsive or too cautious. Too compliant or too stubborn. You could never just dance on the line. You either went all in or none at all. Maybe it was your flaw? Or maybe it helped keep you alive this whole time. Hunting wasn’t easy but it sure as hell was child’s play in comparison to falling in love. In your opinion, it was the most elaborate form of self harm. Besides, how could you compete? How could you compete with the girls that usually peck around him? They seem to have perfected the art of flirting and being confident and you, well, you never dared.

That didn’t mean you didn’t get jealous though. God. Fucking. Damn. It felt like heat crawling all over your skin, your stomach churning the acid. As a general rule of thumb, you tried to be anywhere but where Dean was picking his flavor of the night.

“Sam.” you say, the jealousy making your tongue bitter, “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Big ol’ Sammy shoots you the sweetest smile, his hand squeezing yours before he gets up to help you put on your jacket, “Want me to drive you home Y/N?” It’s freezing outside.”

You turn to face him, patting his scruffy cheek with your cold palm out of affection, “That’s a nice thought Sammy, but I’d like to see you get the keys from your brother over there.” You fling a half hearted glance in Dean’s direction.

He’s leaning against the dark wood counter, with a hand curled around his whiskey glass and the other tucking the blonde’s hair behind her ear. She’s tangled around him like a vine, hanging onto every honey laced word dripping out of his mouth.

You gulp. Trying to simmer down, “I’m sure by the time you make it over there she would have devoured him already. So I’ll walk, the motel isn’t that far away from here.”

Sam scoffs, his eyes landing on his brother before he reaches into his pocket for some cash, “Nonsense. I’ll come with. I want to catch up with my reading.”

He puts the bills on the table, taking the last swing of his beer before he holds his arm out for you to take. Instinctively, you loop your hand with Sam’s, sparing Dean one last glance, you walk out of the bar.

It’s about 45 minutes after you and Sam leave the bar that you hear heavy pounding on your room door. You shoot up from bed, your fingers curled around the cold metal of your gun. Calculatedly, you step forward towards the door, in the darkness. Your heart is pounding in your ears, your palms sweaty as you grip the door handle, ready to fling the door wide open.

Your skin is met by a gust of icy air and a pair of worried green eyes. You physically relax, placing your palm over your chest.

“Idiot, I was about to shoot you. What’s your problem?” your fear suddenly turning into irritation when he pushes pass you and marches inside.

You stay put, tucking your gun in the waistband of your shorts. He shakes of his jacket and whips around. His eyes aren’t worried anymore, it’s storming. He just stares. With a set jaw, his gaze unsettling you. You’re suddenly so unsure of yourself and your body.

“You just left. You just fucking left.” he spits, stalking closer to you. “I turned around and you were gone. Poof. Just gone. I nearly tore the whole bar apart looking for you and my idiot brother.” he has you backed up against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw so that you’re forced to look at him.

“Dean.” you manage to say, “I’m sorry.”

What the actual fuck. Why did you say that? You weren’t sorry. 

“You’re sorry?” he questioned, his eyes darting to your lip caught between your teeth.

“No.” 

“No?” It’s obvious that your reply has thrown him off.

You shove him, your hand pressing against his chest. He’s solid but you make a good effort. He actually stumbles.

“I’m not sorry, you ass.” you say with conviction, “I got tired of sitting around and watching you suck face or go home with those skanks. They don’t deserve you. They don’t fucking deserve you.” Your outburst surprises even yourself. 

But he doesn’t miss a beat. He’s smirking now. That lopsided grin that makes you wet. “And who deserves me?”

You cast your eyes downwards, not wanting to face him. Barely underneath your breath you mutter, “ Screw you.”

“I asked who deserves me Y/N.” his gravelly voice making your insides curl, “Now, answer me. I won’t ask again Sweetheart.”

His lips smash against yours before you can answer. You can feel his lips, curled into a satisfactory grin when a needy whimper escapes your bruised mouth. His entire body is pressing into yours, trapping you between his warm, heavy frame and the cold wall. You can’t twist, or turn. His hand holding your wrists above your head. All you want to do is touch him. But you can’t. It’s maddening.

This is what he wants. The control.

And, you’re more than happy to give it.

You gasp, moaning from the loss of his lips on yours. There’s raw scrapes of teeth and wet soft kisses down your neck, then back up to where your pulse is rabbiting away. He sucks at your soft heated flesh and you feel weak in the knees.

“Dean.” his mouth on your flesh is intoxicating. You head swimming like you’re drunk. In response, he grinds his pelvis into your lower belly. He’s steel hard, his cock straining against his zipper.

“Tell me what you want.” it sounds dirty slipping out of his kiss swollen lips, “tell me how you want it.” His gorgeous face contorted with lust.

He drags your shorts over the curve of your ass, a rough, wide palm sliding up the inside of your thighs, immediately. Your body betrays you. You’re ready. Slick coating his thick, calloused fingers. He presses his thumb against your clit, ghosting his fingers along the sensitive lips of your pussy. All you want is him. You want him inside you.

You can’t help you yourself, the needy whine leaves you lips as your hips buck against his hand. You want him to fill you up. Against your neck, you can feel his lips curl into a smile, your fingers tangling into his hair as he works his magic.

“I won’t fill you up if you don’t ask me nicely pretty girl.” he warns. His fingers dancing over your slick flesh, teasing. “Ask me. Ask me to fill you up.”

“Please.” is all you manage.

His index and middle finger is right there. Right there. You’re going to burst into flames if he doesn’t touch you. Without warning, he shoves them into you. Knuckles deep. You clamp your eyes shut, moaning at the feeling. God, it feels so good. 

“Dean. Go fast.” your voice quivering with arousal, “I need it. I need you.”

“Oh you need me Sweetheart?” he questions, teasingly. Pumping his thick fingers slowly. Challenge gleaming in his eyes. His thumb grazes over your clit, making your hips buck. “Tell me how bad Y/N. Tell me how bad you need me.” he growls into your neck.

Hard and faster he pushes into you. You’re right at the edge. Dancing on the edge of a beautiful orgasm. 

“So bad. So bad.” you repeat the words, like a prayer. “I need you so bad.” You shake your head, grabbing his wrist to stop his fingers. You can barely stand. “Dean, I don’t wanna cum like this. I need you to fuck me. Please.” you beg.

“The bed.” he barks. You just blink at him. He stands away from you. Your aching body, now so cold and empty. So you just nod, obeying him. 

You fall to the bed, spreading your legs wide open for him as he watches. He takes his time. Watching you as he pushes his jeans and his underwear down his thighs. His thick weeping cock springs free, standing tall and proud in front of him. You mouth waters at the sight of him. All you can think about is your mouth on his cock, making him cum.

He strokes himself, walking towards you. He drags you towards the edge of the bed by you ankles, flipping you onto your stomach in one fluid motion. A delicious smack fills the air when he grabs a handful of your ass. You love it. The feeling of being owned. You’re too anxious. You reach down behind you to guide his cock in. There’s this sweet anticipation that heats your blood when you feel the head pushing between the lips of your pussy. With a grunt, he slides home. And you feel full. So deliciously full. Your tight little body is stretched to it’s limits.

The deep, slow rock of his hips has you screaming. Coming hard and fast from the feel of his cock and his fingers on your clit. You’re unable to form words, there’s just a string of incoherent moaning leaving your lips. Your body tightens, pulsing, milking Dean’s cock as he continues to rock into you. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. I want you to cum again.” he grunts, a warning somewhere in there.

“Cum.” you clench around him, “I want you to cum for me Dean.”

His fingers are digging into your hips, like he’s holding on for dear life. You can’t wait to see the marks. 

“You’re quite the view pretty girl.” he compliments. He’s enjoying the show. His thick shaft disappearing into your slick pussy. Over and over again. 

He cums hot and sticky into you. It feels so good. You want to feel it all over again.

“Jesus Y/N.” He moans, falling to the bed, pulling you on top of him. His arms are wrapped tightly around  your waist. Your head resting over his hammering heart. Gently, he tilts your chin so he can capture your lips. He takes his time, his fingers skimming over your bare back, “I wanted our first time to be better than that.”

He’s shy now. It’s endearing. Your heart melting. You smile, cupping his scruffy cheek, “Fast and rough was good for now. I’ve waiting long enough. I don’t think I could have anymore.”

An innocence touch of your lips to his, conveys more emotions than words can.

“Think we can do this?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through your hair.

“What? Round two?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes, a smile dancing on your lips, “Us Dean, you and me?”

“No way I’m screwing this up. I just wanna screw you.”

Tags: @thedevilinthedetails @my-supernatural-dreams @damn-sassalecki @akshi8278 @tia58 @laurwinchester @the-amaranthine @merci-is-screaming @pizzarollpatrol @torn-and-frayed @tom-is-in-my-tardis @anokhi07 @nightmaredean @captainemwinchester @sleep-silent-angel @kittenofdoomage @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid