#also THIRD ART IN AS MANY DAYS WHATS HAPPENING TO ME!

[rabbit-rays]

image id: a digital painting of june, my young wolf from destiny 2. she’s a white person with short brown hair, and she is turned to look over her shoulder with a frightened expression. behind her is a dark circle with a bright corona around it, similar to an eclipse. linear rays extend around it. end id.

HOLE THEORY

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

read part 2 here!

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

[darcytaylor]

Are people mad that Luke Newton has a girlfriend? Or is it something more? A deep dive. Part 1 of 3.

I want to start out by saying, I have been following the Bridgerton train since the season one release on Christmas day. It was a show that I knew nothing about and I became enamoured.

I have followed along with the show and the actors since the release. I find looking at human behaviour fascinating, as I work in a very customer service based industry. It is so interesting to me to see how the actors have conducted themselves, especially Luke Newton.

This post will be about why I think people are truly upset by his behaviour.

(some of which I agree with and some I don't)

Luke Newton has been quite the monogamous dater. He dated his fellow co-star from The Lodge, Sophie Simnett. They were both very young at the time, it seemed like a sweet relationship, but young love normally never lasts.

Then he got into a relationship with Jade Davies. She is very active in the Theatre world and it seemed like this was a very good pairing. I think they complimented each other well. You could tell they loved each other. Ultimately they broke up at the beginning of 2023, because they 'grew apart', or so the tabloids have stated.

I do know that Jade did receive some hate (which is fairly common in the industry that Luke is in). I personally don't think that it was as bad as people made it out to be. A lot of people loved seeing Luke in love and proud of his girlfriend. They supported them as a couple. They supported it because there really wasn't anything to not support.

After the breakup is where Luke Newton went off the rails (in my opinion). He decided to become the typical fuck boy and didn't keep it secret.

This is where he made his first mistake - he made his dating life public and it definitely looked questionable. (and yes he made it public by following certain people and posting about all of his vacations). He had a 'type' going into this time in his life (young dancers). But ultimately fans were forgiving because he just got out of a long term relationship. He was hurting and it's okay to spiral a little at a time like that. Fans supported him because they wanted him to have a 'hot girl summer'.

At some point he meets his confirmed/unconfirmed girlfriend Antonia. She seems to get a long with his close friends and people took notice of them spending time together. But I think fans thought he was still spiralling, so he wouldn't actually get into a relationship, he was only have fun.

Then the New Years kiss video was released. Fans did not like this. But ultimately I don't think that was what caused the biggest issue, I think his second mistake was befriending her on Instagram. This is what sealed them as an unconfirmed relationship. Had they decided to not make this decision, I think people could/would have left them/her be. It could have been summed up with 'it was just a New Years' kiss.

I think that Luke had every intention to make this relationship public. I think that, that was his ultimate goal that day. But because of the press tour coming up, he was told not to. I also think that made Luke spiral even more, he was upset that he couldn't show off his girlfriend (and when you like or love someone you do want to do that) and decided to take some of his issues out on his career and fans (by liking everyone of her photos, letting her post photos with his clothing, letting her post photos with his arms and legs).

His third mistake was mentioning that he was the most like his character on Bridgerton (he has said this multiple times) and his cast-mates also say the same thing. Hear me out on this one -

It can be easy to separate the art from the artist. That is simple enough for people to do (I have seen it happen on many occasions). But there were multiple times that he would say he is the most like his character (saying this made the task of separating difficult) - and lets be real Colin was made for the female gaze. He is charming, attractive, loving and isn't superficial. He fell in love with the 'outcast', the one that isn't the 'typical' beauty. Fans held onto this, because Colin as a character made them feel seen. They couldn't separate Luke from Colin because he kept saying he was like Colin.

When they look at Antonia they don't see the outcast, they don't see the girl that looks like them, they don't see a 'regular' woman. She is the opposite of who Colin would end up with, so that would mean that Luke wouldn't go for her. Antonia looks like the girl who made fun of you in high school, the girl who on the outside looks like she hasn't had a trouble in her life, a girl who's social media is all about vacationing and looks staged, she doesn't seem real.

(I want to note that I have no idea who she is as a person, she could be the nicest person).

So now that Luke has made a bunch of people mad they will go on a deep dive. The first thing that people will look into is the age. And she is quite young. Too young in fact. I am on the side that someone his age shouldn't be dating someone who's brain isn't fully developed (this is a scientific fact), ESPECIALLY since there is also a power dynamic. (It's okay if you do not feel the same way).

Luke's fourth mistake was letting his friends post things about himself on social media. Yes, I know that you can't control everybody in your life. But they are his BEST FRIENDS, Luke could have asked them to not post anything about himself. That would have been the smart more.

Luke's fifth mistake was not having Nicola and the Bridgerton Instagram posts with notifications on. He should have liked every single god damn post that they posted. This would have appeased the fans, the fans love that shit. But instead he would like every single one of Antonia's photos and forget about his job. This decision further bothered fans because he stated that he was moving his social media to be work related. I will be honest - his social media is kinda a mess. His social media presence is definitely a mistake he has made.

He goes on the Bridgerton press tour with Nicola (who is amazing at her job), and all of the imperfections of his life are even more exaggerated, because Nicola is fucking great. Even though Luke and Nicola are a pair when it comes to Bridgerton, people will still compare them.

When looking at this whole situation I think that Luke is continuing to spiral. I think that he can be a bit stubborn and he is doubling down. He has to know the mistakes he has made. He has to realize that he could have dated Antonia and not made it a whole situation/scene. If a celebrity doesn't want you to know something about their personal lives, you won't know.

Final thoughts - I think that Luke didn't think about how some of his actions would/could have been perceived, I think he was ill prepared in some of his actions, I think that he is still learning to be in the spotlight, I think he is somewhat immature, I think that he is being destructive to his career.

I'm convinced Luke wanted to come forward with his relationship months ago. I believe he was told not to and he didn't like that answer. He has shown some spite because of it. There are also other mistakes that I didn't get into, if you want a part 2 let me know? haha

Have I lost some respect for Luke during the past year? Yes.

Do I realize that it must be hard to be in the spotlight? Yes.

Do I think that if Luke continues on this destructive path he will regret it? Yes.

Should we also give him a bit of grace? Yes.

Do I think he is talented? Yes.

His actions sure are questionable though!

If you have gotten this far, congratulations and thank you for reading! It's been a fascinating deep dive!

[yamigooops]

good luck charm

synopsis: when you decide to get a little cheeky and put on a cute cowboy’s hat you get a lot more than you bargained for

warnings: strangers to lovers, slight size kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, Katsuki’s a playful bastard (if there are any I’m missing let me know lmao)

length: 9.7k

inspired by an ask submitted to @kingkatsuki by @thecowboykatsuki-anon and featuring art based on the same idea by @jozstanko-art​ we’re all just whipped by this fucker and want to put his hat on and have him fuck us silly

Rodeos weren’t particularly your thing, considering you had grown up in the suburbs your entire life. College had introduced you to people who had grown up with lifestyles contrary to your own, including your best friend Mina, who had grown up in a small rural town. Where she had grown up everyone knew each other, and things like farms and town fairs and rodeos were commonplace among the population.

So, when she invited you to one of said rodeos after your junior year had ended you were intrigued enough to oblige. She had told you about them for the past three years, and you were somewhat curious after all the hype she had placed on them. So about two weeks after the semester ended you found yourself in her hometown. It was a small town, with a main street that consisted of about three blocks of bars and independent shops that provided everything from boutiques to ice cream parlors.

As the day approached dusk on your summer vacation you found yourself at the main fairgrounds for the (apparently monthly) rodeo and trying not to entirely mentally check out. You genuinely had no idea what was going on, despite the fact that Mina had spent the hour and a half drive from your university apartment to her childhood home explaining everything that happened at a rodeo. All you could grasp was that there were three events and which ones her friends competed in. One competed in two, while another competed in the other.

The third friend competed in all three events and was recognized area-wide as exemplary in all of them, and by the way Mina described this man he was incredibly attractive. So, you spent your free time on the drive imagining how this man looked. You only knew he had blonde, spiky hair, red eyes, and a near permanent scowl. However, considering he participated in all three of these events you had to assume he was in peak physical condition. Something about Mina’s description of him made your stomach flutter.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the arena you realized just how popular this event was. It seemed as though every person in town was here, and the parking had spilled over from the actual lot onto the field surrounding it. Once you had parked in the closest possible spot, you and Mina made your way over to the competitors’ area.

Since she knew so many of the participants the two of you were permitted past the gate reading “Competitors and staff only.” She led you through a light crowd of men and women, many of whom were decked out in full cowboy regalia. There was also the occasional horse, bull, or steer being led to their pens to await their turn on the arena floor.

Coming to a pair of young men, Mina bounced on the balls of her feet and tapped a red-haired man on the shoulder. He turned around questioningly before lighting up at the sight of your best friend.

“Well look who finally made it,” boomed the man. He towered over you, absolutely built but attractive in a big puppy kind of way. His smile was infectious, and as he pulled Mina into a bear hug, you found yourself smiling as well.

“Eiji, I missed you so much!” Mina practically jumped onto her friend, her arms clinging around his neck. So, this must have been Kirishima. Now that you heard his name you could recall several stories Mina had shared with you about the red-haired giant. She had also shared with you, in confidence of course, that she’d had the biggest crush on him since middle school, but never worked up the courage to ask him out.

“Missed you too,” he murmured, his face buried in her neck. If you didn’t know any better, it would have looked like the two were already dating. The thought had you chuckling, as it was quite obvious that Kirishima felt the same way about Mina. You supposed it was probably easier to see as an outsider.

“God, get a room, will ya?” came a gruff voice from behind the pair. You shifted your attention from the closeted lovers before you to the man standing just behind them. Sure enough, based on Mina’s description of him, you assumed it was Bakugou Katsuki. Only he was so much more attractive than you had expected. His garnet eyes were piercing as they moved from Kirishima and Mina over to rest on you, and you found yourself blushing and looking away under his intense gaze. “And who are you?”

“Oh, guys this is my best friend and roommate Y/N,” Mina supplied, releasing Kirishima from the chokehold she had him in and moving back to your side to prompt you forward. “She finally agreed to come see you guys compete!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. Thank you so much, and it’s nice to meet ya,” grinned Kirishima as he held out his hand to shake yours. He was the picture of gentlemanly perfection, and you found yourself instantly drawn toward him.

“Absolutely, I figured I should come see what all the hype is after this one talked it up so much for three years,” you chuckled and gestured toward your pink-haired friend. “She talks about you guys all the time.”

“Better be good things,” grumbled Bakugou, crossing his arms over his chest. The action had his black, green and red plaid shirt pulling tight over his biceps and chest, drawing your attention to the rest of his physique. His thighs were massive, though you supposed that was from years of training to ride bucking animals. His leather chaps had imagery of explosions down the sides, and flared out at the ends along with his dark jeans to accommodate his leather cowboy boots. Atop his head sat a well-loved black cowboy hat, beneath which his spikes of ash blonde hair peeked.

“Oh, only the best. I hear that you guys are some of the best riders around,” you nodded. His slight scowl didn’t budge, and in that moment, you decided you’d make it your goal to get him to smile by the end of the night.

“Aww, thank you Mina,” Kirishima crooned, throwing his arm around the smaller girl.

“Of course, I’d say good things, ya doofus. You guys are my best friends.” Mina’s cheeks were darkening from the proximity to the “love of her life,” as she had put it so many times. 

You chuckled, watching as the childhood friends caught up with one another. There were two more that joined, named Sero and Denki, and as the conversation continued and the crowd shifted, you found yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Bakugou after a while. You chimed in every once in a while, but mainly let Mina catch up with her friends. Bakugou seemed to have a similar approach to the conversation, watching as Mina and Kirishima cluelessly flirted and teased one another. 

“Are they always this oblivious?” You kept your words quiet as you directed them toward the blonde beside you.

“Those two have been doing this shit for years,” he sighed. “We keep tryin’ to get em together, tell them that they’re into each other, but they’re about as dense as two blocks of concrete.”

You snorted, “Must be exhausting having to watch that for so many years.”

“You ain’t got a clue.” He let out a puff of air through his nose, and when you peeked up at him through your lashes, you realized it was a chuckle. There was a shadow of a smile on his lips, and you felt your chest glow with pride at having gotten even that out of the stoic man.

“You should smile more,” you said teasingly, bumping your shoulder against his, though it was admittedly more against his bicep than anything.

“That a command, little missy?” He turned those burning eyes on you once again, and you felt something tighten deep within you. Feeling a surge of confidence roll through you as you captured his attention, you reached up and plucked his hat off his head before plopping it down on your own. It was warm and smelled like his shampoo, something deep and spicy. His lips slowly slid into a sly grin as you tilted your head back slightly more than before to be able to see him under the brim of it.

“I think it suits you,” you shrugged, grinning playfully up at him. “Makes you look a little less bullish.”

As you held his gaze for a few more moments, you slowly registered that the conversation around you had quieted. Breaking away from the intensifying exchange, you found the rest of the group skeptically watching your exchange.

“What is it?” You asked Mina worriedly, hoping you hadn’t done anything wrong.

“N-Nothing, it’s just that Kats is kinda protective of that hat,” Kirishima supplied after a moment of hesitant silence from Mina. “Doesn’t usually let people wear it. Says it’s lucky or somethin’.”

So, you had messed up.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! Here you-” You scrambled to take off the hat and hand it back to the man beside you. However, before you could put it back on his head, he grabbed your wrist and held it, drawing your slightly panicked attention.

“No worries,” he drawled, that sly smile still gracing his lips. “You should wear it during my ride. Wouldn’t want to get it dirty, right?”

“Kats, man,” Kirishima started, a cautious tone to his voice.

“I couldn’t, not if it’s lucky… I thought this competition decided if you went to that big championship or whatever,” your voice trailed off as he eased the hat from your fingers, holding it by the top as he slowly placed it back on your head.

“Then you be my good luck charm, ‘kay?” His hand still gripped your wrist, his skin hot and calloused but his hold gentle and strangely… loving?

“Dude, he never even lets us touch that thing, much less wear it,” whispered Denki to Sero off to the side. That tightening in your core grew as you could only nod.

“O-Okay,” you breathed, knowing you probably looked like a deer in headlights right in that moment. He let the hat go with a gentle shake to your head before releasing your wrist as well.

A tense moment of silence passed before a booming voice cut through and announced that the events would be starting soon and that competitors should head to their places. Blinking a few times to try and focus on anything but the blonde cowboy before you, Mina took your hand and told the others to do their best and approximately where the two of you would be sitting. You dazedly wished them all luck before following closely behind Mina to your seats

As the events began, you couldn’t get that moment out of your head. It didn’t help that the outcome of it was literally sitting on top of it the entire time in the form of a black cowboy hat, but when Katsuki came on for the first event you knew you were doomed. He was spectacular. The horse bucked and jumped beneath him, trying its best to eject him from his seat on its bare back. But he held strong, one hand tethering him to the animal while the other waved through the air as he moved back and forth atop the animal.

He lasted the necessary 8 seconds, along with 3 more before the animal was finally subdued by both the team of handlers and Katsuki himself. As he took in the raging crowd, waving out at the people chanting his name and cheering him on, he eventually found you, probably thanks to his hat perched proudly atop your head. You stood there cheering for him, but the heat and weight of his gaze was palpable even though you were across the arena from him.

As the next contestant moved into place, you turned to Mina with a sigh. “Alright, what gives? What’s the deal with the hat?”

Mina glanced at you hesitantly, as if she didn’t want to scare you. “Uh, it’s just a thing we say around here that you probably never knew about. It’s nothing, don’t even worry about it.”

“Well, it’s too late for that,” you groaned over the crowd. “You guys all looked at me like I made some fatal mistake when I put the hat on. Then he put it back on and everyone got all weird. So, what does it mean?”

Mina threw her head back and sighed dramatically, “Fine,” she relented. “There’s a saying that if you put the hat on you get the cowboy. That’s why we all got weird. But you obviously didn’t know about that so you don’t have to worry. Bakugou is respectful, he was probably just taken off guard, that’s all.” Mina grabbed your hand, recapturing your attention which had strayed off as you realized what you’d done. “Seriously, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’ll beat him up myself if he tries anything, got it? Kiri will too.”

You nodded hollowly, trying to comprehend what was happening. You get the cowboy too? Does that mean romantically? Sexually?? Sure, Katsuki was attractive as hell, and you’d been flirting when you put his hat on in the first place anyway. But would he even be interested in you that way? And besides, you’d only just met!

But as the competitions continued, the possibility of getting with Katsuki grew more and more appealing. As you watched him in the steer wrestling event you were made aware of how powerful and fast he was. As he took down the animal in just over 3 seconds, you found yourself squirming in your seat.

Then, later, during the bull riding, he impressed you even further as he held onto the enraged creature. You held your breath the entire time, hoping against hope that nothing bad would happen to him, and couldn’t hold back your sigh of relief as he made it through the event almost completely unscathed. He had only fallen on the ground after the time limit had elapsed, and for a split second you feared the animal would try to trample him. But the team of handlers quickly calmed the bull, and Bakugou made his way over to it to pat it on the head with the brightest grin on his face before they returned to the pen it came from.

It turned out he had done incredibly well in all three events, and would be moving on to the state competition taking place in two weeks’ time along with Kirishima. As you and Mina made your way back down to meet up with them after the events had concluded, you chuckled as your friend made a beeline toward the red-haired giant. This time she really did jump into his arms, congratulating him profusely as he thanked her over and over.

As those two were distracted by one another, Bakugou slowly made his way over to you. That tightness returned to your stomach, and you plastered a weak smile on your face as he stopped before you. Unable to meet his eyes, you looked down at your feet as you congratulated him.

“You were amazing out there.” You tried to raise your voice enough to be heard above the surrounding din. “Congratulations on moving on.”

Two fingers slipped beneath the brim of his hat and tugged it upward, removing the shield between the two of you as he eased it off your head. “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear ya under there.”

You met his gaze as you felt your face heat up. “I said congratulations on moving to the next round,” you huffed. He had probably heard you, but wanted to fluster you.

“Guess you really were a good luck charm, huh?”

“I know what the hat thing means,” you rolled your eyes. “Besides, it had nothing to do with luck. You obviously know what you’re doing out there.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, reaching up to place his hat back on his head. “I beg to differ,” he grinned. “Seein’ you out there in the crowd, wearing this thing, that had everything to do with why I did so well.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You’d only met this man a few hours ago, but your attraction toward him was already so strong. Was it his looks? His personality? That damned superiority complex? Or was it something else?

“And if you’re so in the know about what wearin’ my hat means, what are you gonna do about it?” He was closer now, his voice lower and the intensity of his gaze heavier. You could feel his breath on your now-exposed face, and had to fight the urge to look away as he tilted his head slightly to the left.

“Not sure yet,” you shrugged, trying with every fiber of your being to stay calm, to sound nonchalant. Inside, however, that desire for him was burning hotter than ever, that tightness in your core growing toward an unbearable pressure. “What should I do?”

He smiled again at that. “You should let me treat ya to a drink and let me get to know ya better.” His proposal was so smooth it had you floundering for purchase as he reached up to tweak your chin between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.

This is really happening, you said to yourself. This god of a man was really asking you out for a drink, and you would be an idiot to decline, especially with that pool of need growing in your stomach.

“Sounds like a plan, cowboy,” you shrugged before reaching up. “I get to wear this though,” you smirked and lifted the hat from his head once more.

“By all means, be my guest.” He seemed to want to devour you as you placed the item on your head again, and that made your inner goddess preen with delight.

“Hey, Mina,” you called, looking over to your friend where she stood chatting with Kirishima. She looked over toward you before an expression of surprise crossed her features at the sight of you and Bakugou. “We’re going out for a drink, that okay?”

She slowly developed a wicked grin as she realized what was happening before she nodded. “Absolutely, have so much fun.”

“Thanks, I will,” you nodded. Bakugou slid his hand into yours and started leading you out of the venue, but not before Kirishima called out after you.

“For the love of god, use protection!”

Your face exploded into flames at his shouted words, as they brought numerous people's attention toward you. It didn’t help that everyone seemed to know that the hat you wore belonged to the man beside you. So, in an attempt to escape their prying eyes, you turned down your head and tried to hide behind the brim of his hat.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Bakugou chided as you neared the exit. “I want ‘em to see how pretty you look in my hat.”

“You’re not helping,” you hissed, wishing people would stop whispering about how they’d never seen you around and how surprised they were to see someone wearing Bakugou’s hat.

He simply chuckled beside you as he led you toward his pickup truck. It was ginormous, and he had to help you up into the passenger’s seat. But once inside and when he had turned the air on, you found it was far comfier than your own car. It looked well-maintained and the interior was surprisingly clean, considering he was a farm hand.

“You really do look good in it,” he remarked as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But please don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do, alright?” Though his voice was still gruff like it always was, it had a sincere softness to it that had you looking up at him instead of down at your hands. He glanced over at you as he stopped at a red light.

“Okay,” you nodded, and smiled as he reached over to flick the brim.

“I got it when I was twelve,” he stated after a few moments of silence. “Was a present from my ma. It’s by the same maker as the hat my idol wears.”

“And who’s that?” You asked the question even though you knew the name would likely hold no significance to you. It just made you happy to hear him opening up to you.

“Toshinori Yagi. People called him All Might because of how good he was. The guy’s a rodeo legend. Set the world record for most time on bull-back, and the fastest steer takedown. It’s my goal to break those someday.” He looked out on the road ahead of him with a faraway look in his eyes. There was a wistfulness to his voice as well, and you knew that this hat really did mean the world to him.

“I think you can do it,” you said softly, despite your lack of knowledge.

He smirked, looking at you briefly. “Ya barely know the first thing about rodeo. How do you know I can break those records? They were set over twenty years ago, and people have been trying ever since. What makes you think I can do it?”

“You seem like a really tenacious guy,” you shrugged. “Like you fight for what you want and don’t give up till you get it.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong there, I’m definitely tenacious. My friends would probably call it bull-headed, but I like your description better.” He was quiet for a moment before he tentatively reached out to brush his fingers against the back of your hand, like he was asking permission. You looked up at him, only to meet his red gaze, made even redder by the glow of the red light he stopped at.

Taking a breath in through your nose, you eased your hand over and let him thread his fingers through yours. You hadn’t really registered how warm he was when he’d been holding it earlier on the way out, but in the quiet and intimate space of his truck you were honed in on the feeling of his calloused skin against yours. This was his riding hand, the one he used to keep himself from being flung from the backs of enraged animals. It was probably strong enough to break your own smaller hand, but the care with which he held it astounded you.

“I’ve gotta admit, I’ve heard about you from Mina,” he offered as the light switched to green. “Was kinda lookin’ forward to meetin’ ya.”

“Well, I hope I didn’t disappoint,” you laughed nervously. Sure, you’d heard about him, but he had turned out to be so different from what Mina had described. She had told you about a man with anger issues who sucked at making new friends and always wanted to fight others. And while he did seem to be those things, he also apparently had a softer side, one which he only showed to certain people. And you weren’t quite sure how you’d become one of those people, but you couldn’t exactly say you were upset about it.

“Course not,” he grinned. “She told me you were a spitfire, so I was lookin’ forward to having someone to jibe with. Certainly didn’t disappoint in that area.”

“Well good, I’d hate to leave a future record-holder wanting for more,” you giggled softly.

“She showed me pictures of you too,” he added almost hesitantly. “And I must say you aren’t disappointing there either.”

Your cheeks flared up at the compliment, but you fought back the urge to curl up in a ball and insist he was just being nice. “Thank you.” The words were laced with more emotion than you had originally intended, but you found you couldn’t hold it back.

There was a pause in the conversation then, as you both sat blushing in your seats listening to the thrum of the engine. His thumb began stroking the back of your hand in small circles, and you found yourself relaxing into his touch.

“Would you like to come to my place instead of a bar?” He asked somewhat suddenly. He sounded… nervous. Like he had no idea how you might respond despite the fact that you had given every indication of being romantically interested in him as well. “I mean, that way I’d be able to cook you something. You’re probably starving, right? I know I am…” His words were somewhat rushed, and they faded off at the end as he glanced over at you.

The thought of going home with him had your stomach doing flips and your heart singing in your chest. He was so attractive, and seemingly the perfect gentleman when he was interested in someone, which was something you had always wanted in a partner. And Mina had told you so many times how good of a man he was, despite his gruff demeanor…

So you nodded. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

He let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief and resumed stroking the back of your hand, which he had stopped while waiting for your answer. “Alright, it’ll be a few more minutes to get out there since it’s on the far side of my property. In the meantime… Tell me about yourself.”

You told him everything you could think of, about your family, what you were studying, what you hoped to do in the future. And he listened intently, making comments here and there or asking clarifying questions when needed. His attention remained on the road, which had lost its street lights back at the edge of town and was now a dark path cutting through fields of crops. They swayed in the light breeze, and you felt the urge to roll down your window and breathe in the fresh air.

And so you did. You put it down all the way and stuck your hand out into the warm night air, letting it flow between your fingers like water. As you leaned toward it, Bakugou’s grip on your other hand tightened subtly.

“You better not let that hat blow away,” he warned, and you simply smiled over at him and unbuckled your seatbelt. Releasing his hand, you held onto the brim of the hat and leaned out the window. The wind battered you and you could hear nothing else, but the way it felt through your hair and rushing over your skin felt positively divine.

You let out a loud cry of joy into the peace of the country night, atop the backing track of crickets and cicadas and beneath the light of the distant stars. Bakugou simply watched from inside the vehicle, his free hand finding purchase on your hip to stabilize you as you flung your arms out, hat clutched between your fingers. You could almost reach the corn leaves on the side of the road as you rushed past them, and you tried not to get disoriented as the world passed upside down.

As you let out a laugh of happiness, you felt the car slowing and looked in the direction you were headed. Bakugou slowed in order to turn onto a driveway, and you took that as a cue to pull yourself back into the truck, only to find him laughing.

“Your hair’s a fuckin’ mess now, idiot,” he choked out through peals of laughter. Upon inspection in the mirror you flipped down you found he was correct. You giggled at your disheveled appearance and simply placed the hat back on your head to hide it.

“There, all better!” You grinned at him as you felt his hand, which had been situated on your hip, make its way to rest on your thigh.

He simply shook his head as his laughter died down and you approached a house you could now see on a small hill. As he pulled to a stop at the top of the driveway he gave your thigh a soft squeeze and a pat before putting the car in park and hopping out. He made his way around the front and opened your door for you, helping you down until your feet met gravel.

“Welcome to my place,” he said as he led you inside. The parlor was cozy as he turned the lights on and you found that the place smelled of spices and something savory. “I’ve got a brisket slow cooking in the kitchen right now, should be just about ready.” He slipped his boots off and set them near the door, and you followed suit before accompanying him to the kitchen.

“Your house is beautiful, Bakugou,” you said softly as you looked around. It was simply decorated, but the things it did contain were all gorgeous. There were wood carvings that looked to be done by hand, and paintings here and there. It was so homey and domestic, and for some reason you hadn’t expected that from a man like him. But seeing him in the space it made complete sense. He fit into it all perfectly.

“Please, call me Katsuki,” he insisted as he retrieved two wine glasses. “Oh, I guess I should ask what you prefer. Are you a wine or beer drinker? I’ve also got some bourbon, whisky, or gin if you’d like any of those instead.”

“Wine is good, though I will say I’m normally a white drinker,” you smiled as you gestured toward the bottle of red he had out on the counter. He got a look of worry on his face, as if he’d committed some sin by bringing out red wine, and you laughed. “I’m kidding, I love a good red,” you assured him, making your way around the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Good, dumbass, because I ain’t got any white.” He tried to look nonchalant, but there was relief clear on his face. He deftly opened the bottle and poured two glasses before handing you one. “It’s from the local winery, so hopefully you like it. Cause if you don’t then I’ll have to take it up with Sero since he owns the place.”

As you grinned at his lightly playful tone you tilted the glass to take a sip. It was incredible, the flavor spreading over your tongue and reminding you of autumn nights spent with Mina on the couch retelling stories of how your summers went while getting progressively more wine drunk. “It’s delicious,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

“Good, I’ll let him know he’s got another fan. That guy can always use an ego boost,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his own glass. He then placed it down on the dark marble countertop before making his way over to the slow cooker near the oven and peeking inside. “I’d say this has another 20 minutes before it’s perfect,” he said, mostly to himself.

“So what should we do in the meantime?” There was that tightness again at the thought of having time to kill with just the two of you. It only grew as he slowly turned back to you with a gleam in his eyes, and you distracted yourself by taking another sip of wine.

“Well, I suppose that can be up to you. What would you like to do, little missy?” He stepped back toward you and joined you in drinking from his own glass.

“Now why the need for the nickname?” You tried to sound annoyed with it, but in reality it had you clenching at the sound. “I’m not that little.”

“I beg to differ, you barely come up to my shoulder. I’d say that’s pretty little,” he smirked and patted the top of your head.

“Yeah, well I’ve got a big personality,” you defended, trying to look bigger as you rose slightly onto your toes.

“Ya got a big attitude, I’ll give ya that.” Tilting his head back, he finished off his glass of wine, and you followed suit. “Though I’d love to see how tiny you’d look on bull back. Bet you’d hardly last two seconds.” The grin on his face had your stomach fluttering and your breath shortening at the apparent innuendo behind his words.

He obviously wanted you, and you wanted him. So why were you so hesitant? It’s not like you were a virgin, you’d had several partners in the past, and had even had a few one-night stands. Was it just because of how attractive he was? How intimidating his aura was? All you could think about was having his hands and mouth all over you, having him buried inside you to the hilt and riding him like he rode his bulls. But something was holding you back, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

He took a step closer, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “I’d love to see how tiny you look riding me, too,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. There was a growl to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a depth that threatened to pull you under and drown you in him. And you found yourself wanting to dive into his depths, to be pulled under and never come back up for air. But you realized in that moment what was holding you back.

Fear.

Fear of losing yourself. Fear of falling in love with this man, only to leave tomorrow and never see him again. He had a magnetism to him which pulled so strongly on you that you found yourself daydreaming of leaving behind everything you’d worked so hard for to settle down with him. To be his little housewife who stayed at home and took care of the children and sacrificed her own dreams to support him and the family you’d have together

But you wanted a life of your own. Wanted to pursue your passions and make your own dreams come true. You didn’t want to settle for a life in some small town where you could never make something of yourself. You didn’t want to only be known as Bakugou Katsuki’s wife and the mother of his children. You were scared that if you let yourself drown in his depths that you really wouldn’t come back up for air, that you’d sink into the murky waters of obscurity and never be seen again.

But as he took hold of your chin again with that thumb and forefinger to tilt your head back and get your eyes to meet his, you felt more seen than you ever had before. There was a fire inside those carmine eyes that said he wanted to fight the world with you by his side. That he wanted to see you succeed in whatever you wanted to pursue, and hoped you felt the same.

So you took a deep breath and plunged in.

“I think I’d like that,” you whisper, before grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him down to meet you as you rose once again on your toes. His lips were just as hot as his hands as they met yours tentatively, but they were soft, and more supple than you had expected. They moved slowly against yours before his tongue peeked out and ran over your bottom lip before you granted him access. His hands came to clasp your waist while yours slid behind his neck, using it as an anchor to keep your knees from buckling.

He eventually turned you so your lower back pressed into the countertop. Then, in one swift motion, his hands slid below your ass and hoisted you up onto the counter. You hadn’t even jumped up to help him, making you realize just how strong the man you were ensnared with really was.

With this new height you were slightly above him, no longer having to worry about his hat bumping into his face. Your fingers delved into his hair, and you groaned into his mouth as he kneaded the fat and muscle of your thighs, between which he had wedged himself. He pulled you closer to the edge so your core was pressed up against his belt buckle, and you squirmed at the feeling of him slowly grinding into you.

Breaking off for air, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he softly panted. “Do I have your permission, little lady?” He spoke in a voice so soft you barely heard it.

“F-for what?” You had never been asked to have sex before, it had always just been implied once the kissing and touching had started. So it took you off guard that he would ask now that things were getting heavier.

“To fuck you, to make love to you, whichever you’d prefer. I just know that I need you, so fucking bad,” his eyes opened to look at you before you nodded, mind in a daze at the courtesy he was portraying. “I need a verbal response, little one. Can’t do with just a nod,” he grinned.

“Oh just fuck me already, you idiot,” you groaned, pulling him back to your lips. He chuckled against them, before slipping his hands back under your thighs.

“Hold on for me, yeah?” He said between kisses. You wrapped your arms and legs securely around his neck and waist, and he slid you off the counter. You assumed he would bring you to the living room where there was a comfortable looking couch. But instead he made his way back through the parlor and up the stairs with you hanging on like a monkey.

“God, so strong,” you murmured against his lips, feeling yourself growing wetter at the idea of his strength.

“Gotta be strong to be a rodeo champion,” he grunted against the skin of your neck. He made his way down a hall and into a bedroom which you assumed was his due to the dark décor and shelves worth of trophies.

He made his way over to the bed and leaned down to lay you atop the comforter. It was soft and you found yourself sighing at the feel of it against your hot skin. He released you with a final kiss, and you let your legs fall from his waist before releasing his neck with one final tug at his blonde locks. He straightened and began to undo his shirt, which had gotten dirt and dust on it from the ring but had remained in good condition. You were glad for that; the colors suited him.

“That the only reason you got strong?” You tried to put a little tease into your tone, but he seemed to see right through it to the need lying beneath as he continued to undo buttons, about two thirds of the way down. You propped yourself up on your elbows, hoping you didn’t look too desperate for hi

“Course not. Got strong so I could help others too,” he replied with a smirk. “I volunteer quite a bit in town and on the local farms when I’m not tending to my own.”

“Uh huh. Any other reasons.”

He undid the final button and pulled the shirt from its place tucked into his jeans. “Are you insinuating that I got strong so I could manhandle you?” A single brow raised sharply as he let the shirt fall from his arms to land in a pile on the ground.

“I’m not not insinuating that…” You were hard pressed to disguise the need bubbling up in your voice as you slowly scooted back up the bed to where the plush pillows lay. “All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t hurt in the bedroom.”

He looked at you questioningly, before unbuttoning his pants and climbing onto the bed above you. “Well then you’re not great at hiding your intentions,” he whispered loudly, as if his words were meant to be a secret, but he wanted to share it with the world.

“Maybe I just don’t want to be good at it. Ever thought about that?” You murmured, even as his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist where your shirt had ridden up, sending a shiver through you.

“Then I guess you’d be succeeding.” His voice was a true whisper now as he said the words directly into your ear, before pressing his lips to the soft flesh of your neck. He had situated himself fully between your legs, your knees bent, and feet pressed against the soft material of his comforter.

“Exactly, I’ve got you right where I wanted you.” You tried so valiantly to keep your voice from warbling, but as he kissed down the column of your neck you couldn’t help the sigh that slipped through your open lips.

“Not yet, you don’t,” he tutted against your collarbone. You screwed your brows together and opened your eyes to look down at him as he paused to get your attention. “I’ve got your permission, right little lady?” Something about the tone to his voice had your skin heating up like never before.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, remembering his need for verbal consent.

And with that, he descended.

He had your shirt up and over your head in what was probably record time, your bra following shortly after and leaving you both in nothing but your jeans, underwear, and his explosion-studded leather chaps. Everything was a whirl of touch and tongue and teeth, moans and groans replacing any lingering words either of you may have uttered.

His lips wrapped around one pert nipple, while his fingers tweaked the other one. His free hand worked its way to your jeans button, slowly but deftly undoing it. He looked and sounded like he wanted to devour you right then and there but was waiting for something. The feeling of his tongue against your skin had you moaning, and he chuckled into your skin at the sound. The hand at your waist yanked your zipper down in one swift motion, before he eased his fingers beneath the waistband of your now-undone jeans.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned, his fingers stroking your sex over your lace panties. He wasn’t wrong, you could feel the fabric cling to your folds with arousal as he made quick work of finding your clit.

“Mnh, m-more,” you huffed, grinding your hips into his hand as you searched for increased pressure.

“Now, is that any way to ask for something?” Bakugou tutted from his spot just above you, but his voice was strained with need as well, something he was decent at masking but not immune to.

“Please,” you whined, “just fuck me already.”

He chuckled darkly. “Right idea, but wrong execution. Now you’re just gonna have to wait longer.” And with that, he was gripping the waistband of your jeans with both hands and yanking downward, drawing a yelp from your lips as he rid you of the cumbersome fabric. You raised your hips to help him, not that he needed it much, before plopping unceremoniously back onto the bed.

He grinned down at you before reattaching his mouth to your heated skin. You groaned at the feeling of his lips dusting against the plane of your stomach as he made his way down your body. When he finally reached your panties, you were nearly gasping for breath. You had delved one hand into his surprisingly soft locks, allowing yourself to stroke them like you wanted to stroke a different part of his body, but you weren’t quite there yet.

He slipped his fingers beneath the lace which barely covered you, pulling it down your legs with what could only be considered reverence before tossing them to the ground somewhere behind him. The way he looked at you when you were completely bare before him had you wanting to cover your face as it burned beneath his gaze.

��What a beauty,” he murmured, before kissing the skin just above your core. “Betcha taste even better than you look.”

Then you were being devoured. His tongue quickly found your clit as his breath was hot against your pussy, making you squeal in pleasure. He varied his technique, switching from flat, languid strokes that had you moaning to pointed, quick circles which had your toes curling. When he slipped a finger inside, you nearly lost it. The combination of stimulation and penetration was driving you closer and closer to the edge, and it was driving you crazy.

“K-Katsuki,” you groaned, fingers tightening in his hair as you felt your stomach tightening.

“I know, sweet girl,” he replied, words muffled as he continued to eat you out. He added another finger to keep up the stimulation as his mouth was partially occupied by his words, though they were muffled by your folds which he kept constant contact with, whether through tongue or lips. “You’re doing so good for me. Just a little longer.”

His constant licking and kissing on your clit, and the curling and scissoring of his fingers deep inside you had your thighs coming up to close around his head as your own was thrown back on the pillow. Katsuki moaned loudly against your core at the pressure, sending a new wave of pleasure rushing through you that almost had you bursting at the seams.

Then he did something you weren’t expecting. He ran his top teeth ever so lightly along your heat, stopping just before your clit as you cried out desperately. At the same time, he curled his fingers right against the gushy spot inside you which so few lovers had found before. Perhaps one or two had managed to hit it, but the combination of sensations had you falling apart within seconds.

“F-fuck! Katsuki,” you nearly screamed, tugging on his hair so hard he groaned at the feeling. You came harder than you ever had from oral sex, and he loved every second of it. He lapped up every drop that escaped before pulling his fingers from the sheath of your body. Directly after those same gooey fingers were slipped into his mouth and sucked clean of your essence.

“Damn, you taste divine Y/N,” he sighed, crawling atop you and pressing his lips gently to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it ran along your teeth, strong and earthy and slightly sweet. He wasn’t wrong.

Your chest heaved as your hands came up to unsteadily undo his belt. They fumbled slightly, and he chuckled before standing again to quickly undo both that and the button of his jeans. Pulling them down, he stood before you, unabashed and glorious in his nakedness. His length and girth had you swallowing thickly as you readjusted on his bed, moving back to lay against the pillows.

“You’re staring,” he chuckled, lifting a knee to free his foot from his pants and briefs to place it on the bed near yours.

“Am I not supposed to appreciate what’s in front of me? When you look like that?” You smiled, trying your best not to let your voice quiver with leftover ecstasy and anticipation. Kicking his other foot to free it from the fabric clinging to him, he made his way up the bed, body lithe and solid between your legs as he came to cage you between his muscular arms.

“Then I guess by that logic I’m allowed to stare as well?” His voice was soft and low as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. He threaded his fingers through your hair, which still held the remnants of the wind-swept knots, and you sighed at the feeling. You tried not to lose yourself in the feeling of his rock-hard length coming to rest on your lower stomach, but your hips reflexively lifted slightly off the bed to grind against it.

“Patience,” he murmured against your mouth, his hand slowly making its way down from your hair along the curves of your naked body to rest on your hip, which he eased back down onto the comforter. “Let me treat you right.”

His words had you tightening once more. The idea that such a gentleman had taken an interest in you, and after so little time together, had you nearly vibrating with need. The hand which held you down gave your hip one more squeeze before coming to grip himself. The low grunt that slipped from his lips had your stomach doing flips before he eased the tip into your folds.

He ground his length through the slick which had gathered there, taking his time to make sure he was fully coated in order to ensure not only his own enjoyment but yours as well. So many of your lovers in the past hadn’t been considerate enough to do that, hadn’t taken into consideration your pleasure and only focusing on their own, that the action made your heart ache with desire.

Once he slipped through your heat with no resistance, he lifted his face from where it rested against your neck to look at you. “Are you ready?”

Your voice caught in your throat as desire and passion threatened to choke you. All you could manage was a nod and a wordless, desperate moan. Thankfully, he was losing himself to desire as well and took that as permission to continue, because you didn’t think you would have been able to form a coherent response in that moment even if he had demanded it.

Nodding, he placed his free hand on your inner thigh to spread your legs slightly farther apart. Looking down at the spot where the two of you met, he guided his cock to your entrance and slowly pushed inside. The sound you released was one of pure ecstasy, and he followed suit with a groan that had your toes curling. He moved carefully, pausing as he was halfway inside to not only give you a moment to adjust, but to give himself a chance to take a deep breath before continuing. The feel of your tight walls constricting around his fat cock and the way you looked and sounded beneath him nearly had him coming undone, and he couldn’t look bad in front of you now.

“Shit, so tight princess,” he muttered through gritted teeth. His brows were drawn together in a look of pleasure so attractive it had your core tightening even further as he resumed his plunge into your core. The breathy moans and soft mewls of pleasure spilling from your lips had him even more eager to really start pounding into you, but he had to fully submerge himself first. Leaning back, he looked at the way you sucked him in, and he used the fingers that were previously wrapped around his cock to come draw tight circles around your clit.

“F-Fuck, Kats,” you moaned sweetly, eyes unable to keep from screwing shut as he bottomed out, pelvis resting soundly against you as you wriggled your hips experimentally against his. The feeling of his pubic hair against your sensitive core, along with his calloused thumb directly against your clit had one of your hands coming to grasp his forearm while the other tangled in the sheets by your head.

“That feel good, little one?” Katsuki’s voice was slightly strained as he pulled out slightly and pushed back in. You couldn’t stop the almost pitiful sound that slipped from your throat as you nodded vigorously. He chuckled shortly, seeming to have a hard time getting out coherent thoughts himself. “Can I move a little more?”

“P-Please,” you begged, needing more: more movement, more stimulation, more friction. More of him.

“Then hold on, ‘kay?” He came to situate himself above you once more, leaning on one elbow as his thumb remained glued to your clit. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, before he began to move.

It was slow at first, almost gentle, as he tested to see how far he could go. Each time he increased the speed or pressure with which he moved, you craved more, cried out louder. It was a gradual increase, but soon his headboard was banging against the wall and your tits were bouncing and the wet slaps of his balls against your ass were accompanied by cries of pleasure that spilled freely from your lips. His teeth sank into the flesh of your neck as he groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest which was pressed against your own.

“Katsuki!” His name fell like a prayer from your lips as you neared your climax once again, and the sound of it had him following suit. But he’d forgotten a condom, forgotten to use protection in the heat of the moment with someone he’d met only that day. So, he’d hold out. He wouldn’t ruin this moment by making you worry. He would make this perfect.

His years of training and fit physique came in handy not only for the rodeo, but, as you’d insinuated, for lovemaking as well. He used those powerful thighs to drill into you, those muscular arms to not only hold himself up but to bring your chest up to his as well, the arch of your back making him hit even deeper than before. Your moans and cries had only grown louder and more explicit as he continued, and soon he had you falling apart beneath him.

“Fuck!” You couldn’t hold back a scream as the coil which had grown so infinitely tight within you snapped, and you came harder than you ever had before. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes as your vision went white, and your breath stilled in your chest, trapped by your constricted throat as Katsuki fucked you through the best orgasm of your life.

He grew quiet above you, and as your vision returned, you saw he had his eyes trained on you with more focus than ever before, all while his jaw clenched so hard you worried for his teeth. He pulled out, collapsing on his back beside you as his erection stood tall and flushed against his stomach.

“W-What are you doing?” You asked with a shaking voice, trying to catch your breath as you turned onto your side.

“Fuckin’ forgot a condom,” he forced through those tightly gritted teeth, before taking his length in his hand and starting to pump it.

“So?” You raised yourself onto one elbow to look down at him.

“I can’t ruin this by making you worry about that,” he admonished, breath growing even shorter as he closed his eyes forcefully.

“I never said you should stop, Katsuki.”

He froze at that, eyes flying open as he looked at you in surprise. The words had spilled from your lips before you could stop them, taking you off guard as well, but you didn’t make any move to take them back. You eased your fingers around his length, replacing his own calloused ones before shifting above him, thighs coming to straddle his own.

“Y-You said you wanted to see how I’d look riding you, right?” Your voice was soft, but excited. His hands hesitantly came to grip your waist as you lifted yourself to hover over his cock. “Then why don’t I show you.”

With that, you lowered yourself onto him. He slipped inside, aided by your creamy release which still coated your insides and the apex of your thighs. You couldn’t help the sigh that fell from your lips as you came to sit atop his thighs, and the groan that he released had you tightening for the third time that night, much to your surprise. You were lucky to get even one orgasm with your past lovers, much less two. Three? That had never happened before. But you were eager to see if this god of a man could make it happen.

“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered, his hips thrusting up into yours as his grip on your hips tightened. “Think ya might kill me at this rate.”

“Well, you can’t do that,” you huffed, moving atop him as you placed one hand on his stomach to steady yourself. It was solid, a wall of muscle which had you clenching around him at the feel. “You’ve got a championship to win.”

He chuckled beneath you, the sound choked and breathless as you ground down into him. “And you’ll-” He broke off with a moan that had you grinning above him. “You’ll be there, right? Need my g-good luck charm, after all.”

“You gonna get me front row seats?” Your over sensitive cunt squelched as your chest heaved. This man was really about to get you to cum three times in a fucking row, wasn’t he?

“Darling, I’ll get you pit tickets if you want ‘em. Y-You can watch from the damn sidelines if you’ll just be there.” One of his hands made its way up your side to come and cup your breast, thumb circling your pebbled nipple as the other hand gripped your hip so hard you were almost sure it would leave finger-shaped bruises.

“F-Fuck!” You cried as he thrust particularly hard, nearing his climax as you leaned down to kiss him fervently. Your thighs burned and your breath came in shallow pants as you neared your own end, falling over the edge as he gave one final push upward, hips pressing up off the bed as he came hot and hard in your soft, warm insides. You fell apart moments later, hardly anything left within you but cries of pleasure and a clenching core that had him pumping you full of more release than he’d ever given before. 

It felt right, like you’d found a piece that you hadn’t even known was missing. As you collapsed atop his heaving chest, buried your face in his neck, let your fingers trail over his skin and through his now damp hair, you felt more at peace than you ever had. As his hands soothed over the areas he had gripped so tightly, as his lips pressed feather-light kisses along your hairline, he realized that maybe he really had found his good luck charm.

Maybe that hat was just meant to bring the two of you together all along.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SCREECHiNG

WAKE UP HON WE GOT NEW OFFICIAL ROLLO CONTENT (thanks to curekibouka for the translation!) 😭 (Bless him, he came home so quickly at only 40 rolls…)

***Rollo profile, Groovy, vignettes, and chibi spoilers below the cut!!***

As you can see in the card art shown above, it looks like his official English name will be "Rollo Flamme", not some other variation.

His coffin icon has a bell on it! Very fitting.

Yes, he’s triple fire magic and has a Duo with Grim.

… LMAO his Buddies are Malleus, Idia, and Azul 🤡

He's a third-year student at Noble Bell College, Student Council President, (but we already knew this) and 18 years old

His birthday is Feb 2nd! (There was a mistake in the initial launch of the Rollo card and profile in which his birthday was incorrectly stated as Feb 4th, which is Cater's birthday. Man was so mad when he realized he shared a birthday with a NRC boy so he redid his birth certificate/j)

(Here are screenshots of before and after the change; I happened to take a picture before the update:)

178 cm tall (LMAO I guess he doesn't meet a certain Ghost Bride’s standards)

Right-handed

Comes from the Shaftlands (again, we already knew this)

HE'S IN THE HAND BELL CLUB????? TF... HE JUST STANDS THERE AND RINGS HIS LITTLE HAND BELL????? ? ???? ?? ???

Best subject is Potionology

His hobby is cleaning malewife trait

He obviously hates magic 😂

Favorite food is not, in fact, croissants; it's actually grapes

Least favorite food is savarin, which is a ring-shaped cake soaked in flavored syrup and then garnished with cream and fruit

HIS SPECIAL SKILL IS GARDENING WHICH MADE ME LAUGH OUT LOUD... considering what he used that skill for... 🤡

His official description in the profile states that Rollo is admired by his classmates for his seriousness and no-nonsense attitude, but he also has a tendency to be… neurotic 💀 gee, ya think

His vignettes are set at NBC, not Night Raven College. They seem to be set prior to the events of Glorious Masquerade.

It's said that the reason he is at NRC now is because he is there temporarily to study.

We see Rollo going about his daily routine. He tends to the Bell of Salvation and the gargoyles early in the morning when the sky is still dark which probably explains the dark eyebags. He’s able to witness the sun rising as he does his cleaning. Rollo finds the dawn peaceful! and loves listening to the bell ring.

OMG the gargoyles are so excited when he pays attention to them 😭 They hop around like excited little puppies… NOT ROLLO WANTING TO GET RID OF THEM

Rollo also has his duties as a regular student. I believe he discusses grades with his vice president. He thinks his classmates are stupid 😂 and finds it ironic that these people look up to him and see him as a top student and a great magician…

Rollo eats his lunches alone because he finds people noisy. Bruh, he has 2 croissants, 16 grapes and 1 cup of cafe au lait (coffee with milk) for lunch every day of the year…

He shops in the City of Flowers and has a routine of buying a plain letter set, only all white paper and envelopes—even if there is a better deal on other sets. If Rollo is one thing (besides angry), he’s consistent and likes to stick to a routine and to things that are certain!

LMAO Rollo hates the City of Flowers because it’s flowers blossom because of magic ✨

Rollo runs into some trouble when a community goat wants to chomp on rhe letter set he bought in town 😂 He’s calm at first but then gets mad because he considers the goat unsanitary and it’s trying to eat his robes…

I want to stress that this boy is suppressing his rage and disgust the entire time 🤡 He’s trying so hard to pass as well-adjusted… Man’s literally going to send this goat flying but stops because he realizes there are too many witnesses…

At the end, Rollo writes a letter to his parents to let them know he is doing fine. Apparently, they’ve been worrying about him ever since “that” incident 😔 The letter reads as very formal and stiff, as though he’s writing to strangers. Maybe he has emotionally distanced himself from his parents (perhaps as a result of “that” incident), although he isn’t outright rude about it.

HIS LITTLE EVIL SMIRK... IT'S EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN PAIRED WITH HIS VOICE BECAUSE IT'S SO SOFT AND CALM, THE KIND OF VOICE YOU'D NORMALLY HEAR IN LIKE AN ASMR VIDEO 😭

The fact that he writes with a feather quill instead of a magical pen………… ….. ….. … … . .. . … … . . . . .. . … .. . . .

Also the fact that he's by default in his big, bulky uniform with tons of extra material that would make it TERRIBLE for P.E. 💀 and has nothing else to change into... The last screenshot of the group above also looks like Sebek has leaned over to Rollo's ear to spread the GOOD WORD of WAKASAMA and Rollo is trying to do his very best to ignore him...

P.S. I want everyone to know that he does THIS whenever he has a Perfect in Magic History... ROLLO'S LITERALLY A CARTOON VILLAIN PLOTTING REVENGE AGAINST HIS CLASSMATES.... .. . .......... . .. . . . . . . . . . yes, I stuck him in a class with Malleus, Idia, and Azul :))

AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HIS GROOVY...

WHY DOES iT MAKE ME WANT TO BULLY HIM INTO THE DIRT 😭 jUST Lo0OKK AT HIM, HE'S tryING sO HaRD THAT I T HAS THE OPPOSITE INTEndeD EFFECT AND HE COMES oFF AS A MOREN SKRUNGLY L0SEr INSTEAqd 2reqrbhyygo13ogyt68p9egflbagj;jlg.DIHOBbyOFSYSvtdDOVFEILBcsnkmg2myoeqofadnm,vd..go0i424ph13nifIUSFVsofsgotfFIUOFOVUEWVOQEGYVbiypfpb OTL

I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL

I aM SO ASPoRRY fOR THE PERsON I Am AbOUT To BecOME 🤡

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!

(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)

I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0

And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3

But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.

Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more

______________________________

Announcements!

My pfp!

1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!

Possibly more admins?

2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)

See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)

Commissions!

3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!

About requests:

4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.

Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.

Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.

About Burnout:

5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.

There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.

In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.

Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.

So what does this mean for this blog?

Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.

Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)

I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.

———————————————

Just a few more things I wanted to say!

This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))

I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!

Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol

I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 1: Language of Lust (Voice Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first thing art of my third Kinktober challenge, let’s go besties!

Tags: voice kink, language kink, oral, scratching, gratuitous German, aftercare

Word Count: 4.3k

The Masterlist

You tried to understand Medic, you truly did. He talked about his experiments at length, and anyone could see how passionate he was about them. Still, he often forgot that not everyone understood the medical jargon that he did, and you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. The last thing you were able to understand was something about the superiority of the mega baboon heart when compared to the average human’s. It was all downhill from there, but as long as he kept talking, you would keep listening, nodding along. The truth was you loved to hear Medic talk, and the reasons weren’t entirely innocent.

“Now this part gets a bit complicated, are you paying attention?” Medic asked, gesturing towards a rough diagram he had scribbled on the back of some paperwork. As far as you could tell, it seemed to be detailing how one would successfully prevent the human body from rejecting animal organs, specifically the uterus, for some reason. Usually you wouldn’t question it, but you felt it would be wrong to let him keep going on if you truly didn’t understand. Plus, it might mean you get to hear him talk for longer.

“Oh yes! Of course I am,” you said. “But just in case, could you run it by me one more time?”

Medic sighed, smiling fondly at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I am starting to think you just enjoy hearing me ramble, mein schatz.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the soft blush that colored your cheeks. He had no idea how well he had just read you. “Maybe I do,” you said, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible.

“Well, I appreciate that. Not many are willing to listen to me go on like this. However, you don’t have to pretend to understand for my sake.” You noticed a hint of sadness in that statement. You knew how it felt to enjoy something, especially something weird, and have no one to share your interests with.

“I don’t have to understand to see how passionate you are about it, and I like it when you get worked up.” You paused for a moment before realizing how that sounded. “When you’re excited, I mean. Excited about your work.”

Medic chuckled. “Is that so? I have always wondered what you enjoyed out of these conversations we share.” He got a bit closer to you, looking you up and down like an intriguing specimen. “And while I do believe you like seeing me happy, I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. You kicked your legs nervously, hearing the metal operation table you were sitting on creak slightly as you did.

“Let’s see,” Medic said, leaning in, studying you. Suddenly, he started touching you. It was entirely innocent, nothing that wouldn’t be done during a normal physical, even if it did leave goosebumps all over your skin. You started giggling uncontrollably when his fingers lingered on areas that he knew were ticklish. All the while he made mock ‘observations’ about you. “A slight flush, perspiration on the brow… excellent bone structure!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, growing more confused by the second. “What the hell does my bone structure have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Medic said. “But based on how much redder your face just became, I would say you like it when I compliment your appearance.”

You stared at Medic, finding yourself at a loss for words. He held your gaze, and you looked away first with an awkward laugh, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. Was this really happening? Was this Medic’s way of flirting?

Placing a hand on your cheek, you found that it was indeed warm. You also probably should have been unnerved by Medic’s comment, given his track record with skeletons. In fact, he had once detailed how he planned to one-up that particular achievement with something he lovingly referred to as ‘the circulatory system heist.’ Honestly, he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he managed to steal every major organ system in the human body at least once, preferably leaving his victim alive in the process.

Finally, you responded. “It’s not just the compliments. Truthfully, I just like hearing you talk. You have a hot voice.” A moment of silence was all it took for you to realize what you had just admitted. Shit. You had gotten too comfortable. You had said too much, and of course, your immediate response was to stammer your way through a desperate, panicked stream of consciousness. “I mean nice! You have a nice voice, in a normal way. It’s, uh- unique, with the accent, you know? Yeah, that’s it. You would make a good narrator.”

Real smooth. Perfectly executed. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He had, in fact, suspected many things. An expression flashed across Medic’s face. First came realization, and then surprise. You weren’t sure whether you should be proud of the fact that you actually managed to surprise Medic, of all people.

“You like my accent?” He spoke with a certainty that implied he already knew the answer. You wished you could blame it on Medic being observant, but the fact was you had basically outed your massive crush on the team doctor in a moment of weakness. The only thing to do now was own up.

“Maybe,” you said, just above a whisper. You’re face was so red, and you felt hot from the blood rushing to your face. “I do have a bit of a thing for it.”

It was definitely more than just ‘a bit of a thing.’

“I am surprised. Usually when it comes to accents people go for the French, or the other romance languages,” Medic said, looking you over like you were a subject to be psychoanalyzed. It made you feel so small, even though you had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted. Not that you would. You liked where this conversation seemed to be going, even if you were embarrassed by how it was initiated.

“I guess I just have unique tastes.” There wasn’t much more of an explanation for you to give. You weren’t quite sure when you developed a thing for accents, let alone Medic’s in particular, but the human brain worked in mysterious ways. While you satiated yourself with the occasional foreign nickname he had given you, there was a part of you that occupied lonely nights with thoughts of how it might sound if he were to moan against your ear, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood.

“I hope that this isn’t the only reason you come to visit me,” Medic said. “I actually thought you enjoyed hearing me ramble about exotic animal parts and Medigun technology, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, ja?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reassured him. “I guess you could say I came for the accent and stayed for the sordid tales of grand theft skeleton.”

That at least got a laugh out of him. “Well then, I suppose I can’t be too hurt, liebchen.”

Damn it. Your blush had just begun to calm down, too. “That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem with my little pet names before. In fact, I think you liked them very much.” His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you in a way that reminded you of a wolf tracking its kill.

“It’s different now that you know,” you stammered, struggling to keep your composure as you held his gaze.

“How so, schatz?”

You huffed. Now he was just doing it on purpose. You weren’t going to humor him with an answer if he was just going to keep teasing you- until you felt a breath against your ear. “I asked you a question, mein engelchen. I expect an answer.”

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. You hadn’t even realized how close Medic was getting. Now his arms were on either side of you, gripping the edges of the operation table. He probably noticed the way your body stiffened and the way you squeezed your thighs together. Even so, a part of you worried you were being too presumptuous. Was this really going where you thought it was going? “Medic, what are you doing?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m giving you what you want, if you’ll let me.”

“Seriously?” you asked, trying not to be too embarrassed at how the word came out as more of a shocked squeal.

“Only if you want to.” Medic backed away to look you up and down. He still wore a knowing smirk, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it that let you know that if you wanted this to stop, it would stop. You didn’t want that though. You had dreamt of a moment like this, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter, or rather, a silver operating table.

Before you could think, almost as if on instinct, you leaned forward and kissed him. You felt him startle, jolting against you slightly before he melted into the sinfully short kiss. You looked up at him with glassy eyes when you parted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Looking up at him like that, you were irresistible. Medic leaned down, kissing you hard. He was much rougher, biting at your lower lip until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against you. He moaned into your mouth as you grounded against him, cursing the layers of fabric that remained between the two of you.

“Medic, please,” you gasped when you parted for a breath.

“How about you beg for me in my native tongue?” Medic said. “After all, I know how much you love it.”

“I don’t know how,” you whined, not even caring that you sounded utterly pathetic. Your voice was already quivering and besides a heated makeout, nothing had really happened yet.

Medic’s gaze softened. You were adorable when you were frustrated. “I’ll teach you, liebe. You know how to say please, don’t you?”

“Bitte.” You responded with some confidence, having heard Medic say it before, usually when asking for assistance on the battlefield.

“Very good. Now, repeat after me, ‘Bitte, lass mich deinen Schwanz lutschen.’” He spoke slowly, and you repeated the words at the same pace, occasionally struggling around the pronunciation that felt foreign on your tongue.

Medic smiled, and you took that as a sign that you did well. “What does it mean?”

That smile twisted into a smirk. “It means, ‘please, let me suck your cock.’”

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you knew you had just turned a much deeper shade of red. Perhaps it was a bit naive of you to think that what you had just said would be anything other than lewd. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can I?”

“Certainly!” Medic’s swirk widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh light of the infirmary. His eyes tracked your every move as you dismounted the table, pacing around him until he was leaning back on the steel surface and you were knelt down in front of him. His ever present gaze made you shiver. Reaching for his belt, you paused at the buckle, glancing up at him nervously. “Go on, liebling.”

You nodded, wasting little time unfastening the belt and unzipping his fly. With some finessing, you eventually freed his cock, working him up with your hand. The way he groaned at your touch made you squirm, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to quell your arousal. You were quite proud to find that he was already half hard.

It wasn’t long before you could get to work with your mouth. You licked your lips until they were reddened and wet. The noise he made when you simply dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock was maddening. You had fantasized about what it might be like to hear him moan, to watch him come undone with your touch, but nothing could compare to the real thing. You needed to hear more.

Little did you know, Medic had thought about this before as well. He had wondered how you would look on your knees, lips parted and ready to take anything he gave you. You took it so well, too. Your mouth was tight around his shaft, and you did such delightful things with your tongue that made him grip the edge of the table and pulled shaky groans from his lips. “That’s it, keep going, liebchen. Du machst das so gut, you’re so good!”

You shuddered, a low moan escaping you. Although it was muffled, Medic immediately took notice. Your muscles were taut, and you seemed to double your efforts, bobbing your head faster and working your tongue against him. Something he said had certainly motivated you. ‘A praise kink,’ Medic thought to himself. ‘This will be fun.’

“Do you like it when I call you good?” You would have nodded if you weren’t otherwise occupied. In fact, you were so wrapped up in your current task that you barely heard him. He didn’t seem to need any further confirmation though. Medic weaved his fingers into your hair until he had a tight grip close to your scalp. “Let’s see just how good you can be for me then. I want to feel your throat tighten around me.”

He pushed you further down onto his cock. Every move was gentle and gradual. Medic paid attention to your reactions, pausing whenever he felt you gag, letting you adjust until eventually you managed to take him as deep as he hoped for. You were held there, breathing slowly through your nose as you felt his cock press into your throat. Your tongue continued to massage the underside of his cock.

“Sheiße,” Medic cursed softly. His grip on your hair loosened, and you took the opportunity to start bobbing your head again. Only now, you could take him to the hilt on your own accord. Instantly he was gripping the edge of the operating table in a white knuckled grasp. “Oh gott, liebling! That’s so good!” He was panting, and you loved it. Every sound that came out of him was breathy and high pitched, almost sounding more akin to whimpers than moans. “You’re doing so well, meine gutes mädchen, my good girl!”

Of course the praise wasn’t about to let up. You moaned around his cock, doubling your efforts. You were a good girl, you were his good girl, and you wanted to prove it with every fiber of your being. For a moment, you thought you could be content to simply bring him to completion right there, your own pleasure be damned, but it seemed like Medic had other plans. You felt a harsh tug on your hair, pulling you off of his cock. You gasped, the sound quickly turning into a whine.

“Sorry, liebchen, but with the way you were moaning…” He paused for a breath. Medic’s expression was pained, as if he didn’t want to make you stop, but forced himself to. “I was getting much too close, and I still want a chance to fuck you properly.”

You immediately jumped at that, almost literally, as you hoisted yourself back up onto the table with surprising speed. The metal had gone cold, cold enough that you felt it through your clothing, causing you to shiver. Speaking of clothing, you were still wearing far too much of it. At least that’s what Medic seemed to think. He quickly stripped you of your pants and underwear, only allowing your top to remain, to ward off the chill of the metal.

Medic took in the sight of you slowly, relishing every detail. Your legs were spread wide and inviting. Oh, you were positively soaked. He ran a finger over your sex and it came back wet and shining. The gesture left you shuddering. It seemed you were sensitive to even the smallest touch. This was going to be fun.

“Please, please fuck me!” you whined.

“You can’t withstand a little teasing, liebchen?” Medic laughed, letting his hands caress your inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted to be touched, but just out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll have what you want, but first, beg for me properly.”

“Bitte!” you cried, recalling your earlier lessons. “Bitte, Medic!”

“You remembered! Very good.” He dragged you forward to the edge of the table, sliding his cock against you, past your entrance and up to your clit. So close, so agonizingly close. “Now let’s add some new vocabulary. Say, ‘bitte, fick mich.’”

“Bitte! Fick mich!” You didn’t hesitate like before. There was no need to speak slowly and sound out words. Desperation apparently did wonders for your pronunciation.

“Perfekt.”

Medic’s cock was coated in your arousal, twitching against you. He was just as needy as you were, he was just better at hiding it, but there was no need to resist anymore. In one quick thrust, Medic lets you feel every inch of him. The noise you made was animalistic. You clung onto his arm, pulling at the sleeves of the white coat that he still wore. You didn’t even mind- the uniform was starting to become part of the appeal.

He groaned, thrusting slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth around him. You watched, enraptured by the way he buried himself within you. “So good,” he muttered. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is it good for you too, meine liebe?”

Medic stroked your cheek gently, his gaze softening. “It feels good. Fuck, Medic! Please fuck me harder!” you gasped, bucking your hips uselessly.

That moment of gentleness faded as soon as it arrived. Medic gripped the edge of the table for leverage as he fucked you against it. The metal creaked beneath the barrage, but it wouldn’t give away. This table was built to hold the likes of Heavy, there was no way it would buckle. Any other surface very well might have, though.

“I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time,” Medic groaned, his voice low and his breathing heavy. Even now, he tried to take in every feature, committing the image of you taking him so nicely to memory. Everything from the gentle bounce of your chest to the way you bit your lower lip in a vain attempt to smother your own moans would be a detail he could call upon during lonely nights. “If only I knew sooner that you were so smitten with something as simple as my voice.”

Suddenly, his grip shifted to your waist, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts. You keened, feeling him drive deeper into you. He rocked his hips against yours, letting you grind and adjust to the newfound depth.

“Medic,” you began, struggling to catch your breath enough to speak. “Medic, I want- oh fuck!”

“What is it, liebchen?” He paused, letting you regain enough composure to speak. “Go on, tell me what you need.”

“Just keep speaking to me, please, until I come,” you pleaded.

“What would you like to speak about?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Anything,” you said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And could you maybe do it in German?”

“Natürlich, kleine Taube. Ich glaube, du willst es härter, ja?” Now unable to understand him, the ferocious pace you were subjected to came without warning. You held onto the edges of the table, feeling the metal dig into your fingers as your grip tightened. Medic’s fingers pressed into the softness of your waist. You gasped when his nails dug in as well, adding a delightfully painful edge to the pleasure. “Das gefällt dir, nicht wahr?”

The pain was gone almost as suddenly as it began. You whined, unable to hide how much you had enjoyed the rougher treatment. It wasn’t long before you got another taste. Medic’s hands moved down to your ass, his nails leaving little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh there as well. You were starting to pant, mouth agape and gasping as he suddenly lifted your hips upward.

“Gott, du hast so einen schönen Arsch. Das nächste Mal sollte ich dich von hinten nehmen.” This new angle proved to be very effective. You were much louder like this, his cock hitting all the right spots. Medic knew that if he were to simply touch your clit right now, you would be coming for him in seconds. However he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.

Your moans were music to his ears. Should any of his fellow mercenaries pass by the infirmary right now, it wouldn’t be hard to determine just what was happening. The thought managed to rouse some envy in Medic. Your sweet sounds were for him alone. Perhaps it would be better to quiet you down for now. Leaning down, he pressed his lips roughly to yours, muffling your noises. You still whimpered between kisses, but they were soft and subtle, just barely loud enough to reach his ears.

“Magst du es, wenn ich dich küsse? Soll ich weitermachen?” he murmured, stealing another soul reaping kiss. This was quite liberating, being able to say whatever he wanted to you, only to watch you melt at the sound of it every time. “Du musst nicht antworten. Es ist für mich offensichtlich.”

You rolled your hips to meet his. He felt the way your muscles flexed under his hands, and he knew you were close. You whimpered and gasped, haphazardly bucking against him, chasing the last bit of sensation that would tip you over the edge. Your expression was a beautiful mix of desperate frustration and overwhelming pleasure. It was a sight that brought Medic dangerously close to losing control. Realizing he was reaching his limit, he finally showed you some mercy, knowing that the look on your face when you came would far outweigh anything he had yet seen.

“Komm für mich,” he groaned. One hand splayed out on your lower stomach, his thumb reached down to rub quick circles over your clit. You may not have known German, but you could most certainly infer what that meant. You shuddered, back arching, letting out a harsh sounding moan as your orgasm overtook you. “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Ich komme- scheiße!”

Now that you had reached your peak, Medic’s inhibitions seemed to be gone. He chased his own climax, thrusting into you roughly and unevenly. When he finally went still, you had practically gone limp beneath him, overstimulated and teary eyed. When he came you could have sworn he was even louder than you were. You almost wondered if he was playing it up, given your affinity for his voice, but on the other hand, Medic was loud and proud in most situations. It would only make sense that he was a bit of a screamer himself.

When he finally came down from his high he noticed how you were trembling. It was clear that your body was overwhelmed. A few tears managed to spill down your cheeks, even as a blissed out smile remained on your face. You probably didn’t even realize you were crying. Medic withdrew carefully, making an apologetic sound when you whimpered at the sensation.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, stating the obvious. Medic observed you for a moment, making sure you were alright, before you suddenly found yourself being hoisted against his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist for stability as he lifted you off the table and carried you towards an offshoot of the infirmary. Before you could ask where he was going, or how the hell he had the strength left to carry you like this, Medic opened the door to reveal a small, but cozy room. This was clearly his personal quarters. It made sense that it would be part of the infirmary.

“Why are we here?” you asked. Your words were soft, as if raising your voice above a whisper might shatter the pleasant afterglow that had began to settle over you.

“It is quite late. The least I could do is let you stay the night.” Medic laid you down on the surprisingly plush mattress. This was luxury compared to your barracks. You stretched out before burrowing into the blankets letting them engulf you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. That was so good.”

“I had fun as well, mein Täubchen.”

That pet name was new. He had used it a few times tonight, but only now did it pique your interest. “What does that mean?” you asked.

Medic smiled softly. “My dove.”

“Oh,” you said, too flustered to say much else. Being compared to one of his beloved pets felt nice. It made you feel delicate, like something to be cared for.

“You blush so easily!” Medic said with pure glee. You almost expected him to pinch your cheeks. “I will definitely enjoy this side of you, liebe, so easy to tease!

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to brush it off, even though you knew your face was practically glowing with the flush that you were sporting. “Maybe we can do more tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course. This was quite an eventful day.” Medic kissed your forehead, an oddly tender gesture after all the rough treatment. “Get some rest. I will join you once I’ve cleaned up in the infirmary.”

Medic left and you closed your eyes. When he returned just a few minutes later you were already asleep, snoring softly in your sanctuary of pillows and blankets. He had never seen you so relaxed before. You murmured something unintelligible when Medic slipped under the covers beside you, whispering for you to go back to sleep as he draped an arm over you, feeling your body press closely against his in the peaceful darkness.

[grandlinedreams]

Your blog is the highlight of my day, I'm really impressed <3

Could you maybe write something more about what happened after that oneshot where the reader wants to stay up with law but falls asleep while doing it and then law laying in bed with them?

I love the slow burn that is happening there

Aah, thank-you!! I do my best and I'm just glad my hyperfixation has an audience that enjoys it ehe 💖 but absolutely!! I hope that this is to your liking!! I also couldn't help myself w adding the 'it's rotten work' 'not to me. Not if it's you'

[In reference to this]

[Heads up!: mutual pining, some angst, hurt/comfort]

There are three reasons you know that you're not in your own bed when you wake up. One, you're warmer than you ever are, blanket usually kicked off of you in some way or another. The second that there are no sounds of the bunkhouse ㅡ no soft snores or sleepy murmurs, the creak of someone moving in their sleep. And the third?

That Law is asleep right next to you.

It takes a minute to register, your cheeks warming. You'd fallen asleep despite trying your best not to, you know that much ㅡ and that for whatever reason, Law had seen fit to simply let you sleep in his bed.

It's inappropriate, you know. A severe breach of what should be between captain and crewmate ㅡ but staring at him, all you can think of is what could be.

You let yourself admire him for a little longer before you turn your attention to getting up, knowing that your other crewmates will be moving around soon and the last thing you need is them assuming things if you wait too long to come out of Law's room.

You're not sure how you manage to get free without disturbing Law but you do, glancing towards the mugs you'd brought in with you and move to collect them.

"Thanks for the tea last night." Law's voice makes you jolt, barely avoiding dropping one of the mugs as you turn to find him sitting up and watching you.

"Oh," you say, "right, no problem." Curse your wretched heart for doing gymnastics at how cute he is, hair sleep-mussed and expression drowsy. It sharpens, however, as his gaze flicks over you and then to the door.

"About this," he begins, "we won't be making a habit of this. It's for the best if this never happens again."

Your heart sinks. You know that it's for the best, that the idea of entertaining anything but is only going to hurt ㅡ and hurt it does, twisting a proverbial knife into your chest.

There's the rising want to cry, one that you shove down as deep as you can, shoving down your feelings.

"Yes," you say, now heading for the door with the tray and things in hand. "You're absolutely right. It's for the best."

ㅡ

You take to avoiding him. You make it an art ㅡ not so much so as to make it obvious that it's him that you're avoiding in particular, but enough to make it plausible as to why you're never around him.

And it's driving Law crazy. The Polar Tang is only so big, there are only so many places you can duck into before he notices, so many people you can so conveniently manage to be deep in conversation with when he passes, indifferent to his presence ㅡ but you still manage it.

It's frustrating, too. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, a proverbial slap to the face of your kindness, your efforts to put him at ease. He also isn't dumb, he's noticed your lingering looks, the previous excuses to be around him.

Were he someone else, he'd let you know that he reciprocates your feelings. Even as he is, he knows he does ㅡ but he can't act on it. He won't drag you down with him when it all inevitably blows up in his face, won't force you to suffer the same fate as him. You deserve more, and you deserve better.

But your behavior still hurts. The things that you do are made the clearer in the absence them, and he misses them. He misses you.

There's only so much that Law can take of this new routine that you've slipped into ㅡ which is why he comes up with a plan.

ㅡ

Avoiding Law is getting exhausting. Quite literally, as you've gotten into the routine of waiting until almost everyone has retired for the night, him included. It's childish yes, but you're determined to do it until your feelings for him ebb enough that you can go back to the way you were ㅡ as unlikely as that is.

Stifling a yawn, you trudge towards the bunkhouse, intent on getting as good of sleep as you can, only to have a hand curl around your upper arm and yank you away before you can react. You're dragged into a different room and when the door shuts, you wheel on your pseudo-kidnapper.

"What is your problem?"

Unbothered by your tone, Law simply stares at you, expression unreadable. "I need to talk to you."

You frown. "So talk to me like a normal person, not kidnap me."

"I didn't kidnap you," Law counters, "and it's hard to talk to someone when they're avoiding you."

You want to lie and say that you haven't been, but the look Law gives you makes you quiet before you realizes where you are.

His room. Again.

"Look. I realize that how I said things the other day wasn't the best way to put it." Law rubs his neck, trying to find the best way to articulate his words.

Figuring that it'll be easier to sever whatever you have with him all together now rather than continue to suffer, you look up and speak with a steadiness that surprises you. "I love you."

Law's eyes snap to yours, elation and dread clashing. "You can't." Before you can protest, he continues. "Not only am I your captain, but we're pirates. We don't have time for things like this, and I don't have time to entertain how you think you feelㅡ"

"How I think I feel?" Your tone is calm. "Last time I checked, I'm the one who should know best how I feel, Law." He opens his mouth, and you hold a hand up to silence him. "I'm not going to deign the rest of that with a response, because we both know that's bullshit." You pause. "Well, besides the part about you being my captain. You are, and I love you. I'm not expecting you to love me back."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "You shouldn't."

"I know."

He steps towards you, reaching to tug you to him. "That's dangerous."

You press into him. "I know that too. We're pirates, remember? Danger is our middle name."

His arms wind around you, hand cradling the back of your head. "It's rotten work," he whispers, thinking of Corazon and his parents, his sister. "Loving me."

"Not to me," comes your response, muffled into his chest, the steady thump that your own echoes. You pretend not to notice that it's beating as hard as yours is. "Not if it's you."

Law feels something in him crack, splintering into glittering spiderweb fissures. "You're staying here tonight," he says, feels the shudder of your laughter against him.

"Is that an order, captain?"

"Yes."

ㅡ

Blankets over you both, Law still allows himself to reach for you, let your legs tangle with his, lose the dark tattoos of his knuckles in your hair. "Say it again."

You don't need to ask what he means, kissing the front of his shoulder. "I love you."

His lips brush the top of your head. "Again."

"I love you."

He kisses your forehead. "Again."

"I love you."

By the time Law kisses you properly, he thinks you'll get tired of saying it, because he can't say it back. Not yet. But the way you kiss him back says that you do, and that you don't mind.

You're patient, and you can wait.

[cattlemons]

Third Fifth Time's A Charm

| You and Megumi have been dating for quite some time now. Almost half a year, give or take. Upsettingly enough, he has yet to say his ‘I love you's. This bugs him a bit too much so Megumi is now a man on a mission and that mission just so happens to be about confessing his love to you. Basically the four times Megumi almost dropped the “L” word and the one time that he did. I mean come on, fifth time’s a charm, right?

TW: None, I think? I wrote it with college!au in mind but can be read as just a normal jujutsu kaisen fic Just fluff after posting angst, megumi gets chased by a duck? idk what counts as a tw pls let me know if I should add anything, also actual big boy writing cus word count is 3k.

---

Crumbs, ducks and hold on a minute... 

It was around October when the leaves were finally falling and the air was brisk. Megumi had decided to take you out for a mini-date before finals week whisks the both of you away, each secluded in their own world of ink and paper. 

It had honestly gone mostly ok and as planned. The usual schtick, really. Compliment your pretty outfit, exchange loving banters on the way there, get to the park and enjoy your time together. Simple and easy, right? 

Wrong. 

Megumi and you had just finished eating the sandwiches he’s prepared for the picnic. They were wrapped so neatly in pink patterned paper that you can’t help but swoon at the time and effort it must’ve taken for him to prepare it all. 

Megumi took to the toilet a bit after that, or, he planned to. What he didn’t see coming is the fact that ducks started chasing him around right as he walked past the pond. You soon learned that they were chasing him because of the bread crumbs falling off of his jeans. 

After a few bouts of running on Megumi’s part (and giggles from yours), the ducks finally stopped following him. Opting to squawk at the couple on the other side of the pond that’s actually trying to feed them crumbs and seeds. 

Megumi soon found relief as he sat back down beside you still huffing and puffing from the unexpected marathon he ran. Of course, you being the compassionate girlfriend that you are, did not let him off easy. At least, not without teasing him a bit. 

“You know those ducks have really good taste in men,” you quipped. A few beats of silence pass before the two of you erupt into a fit of laughter. 

You were nearly in tears as you continued to giggle uncontrollably at the mental image of Megumi getting chased and flirted with by ducks. Though you probably won't find your laughing any special, Megumi found it absolutely breathtaking. 

From the way your eyes brighten at the hilarious image to the sound of your held-in guffaws, Megumi just can’t get enough of it. He wants to hear it over and over again. He absolutely loves it. 

And he absolutely loves you.

Wait, huh?

Watson, how do you say “I love you”?

“Finally! No more stuffy libraries and definitely no more books! I’m so happy it’s over,” you yelled as you stretched out your tired back. 

Finals are over and you can now rest without worrying. However, it’s a whole other story for Megumi. He is still stressed out of his mind but not because of the reason you might think. No, he is stressed because he has yet confessed the feelings hidden deep in the recesses of his heart.

I love you. 

Who knew such simple words could drive one mad. Megumi never would’ve thought the stress his feelings would bring could trump the amount of stress an exam would bring but he supposes that he can only be so many times. 

Megumi has decided that maybe he should tell you the three words that have been plaguing his mind. So a few days after some much-needed rest, Megumi proposes a little trip to the art museum. Who were you to refuse such a sweet request?

Dressed in his most academic-looking attire, Megumi readies himself for his little confession, going so far as to script it. 

Yes, today he will confess!

Today he did not confess.

It really was the perfect moment. Megumi feels absolutely horrible for letting such perfect timing pass him by but nothing could be done about it now. 

The perfect timing came by when you were nearing the end of the date. It was a really fun date, possibly one of the best ones so far! Megumi had shown you around the museum, giving fun tidbits of information on each art he sees. You were about to point out how knowledgeable your boyfriend was before it finally clicked. 

“Ah! My dear Watson, I think I’ve solved the mystery. It turns out the Duke of Information, Megumi Noritoshi, has done ample research before this date! Proof in the pudding, Watson, look at his palms,” you teased as you took his hands into yours and pushed back his sweater sleeves to see smeared notes on his earlier “fun facts”.

Megumi’s face turned pink as he flushed at your exposing of his secret. Muttering a small, “Blimey, I’ve been caught!” in response to your little skit. 

Seeing him blush and flustered has you grinning (not that anyone could blame you, it really is a cute sight). Taking your chance, you decide to tease him a bit more. Opting for light nudges of your elbow and soft kisses all over his face. This, of course, did nothing to ease the red spilling all over his cheeks. If anything it painted more colors on his face. 

Once the teasing died down, you decided to maybe be a bit more heartfelt. After all, he did prepare for your date and put in so much effort to learn these facts and information. 

“I might not say this enough but I absolutely appreciate you putting this much effort into our dates… maybe I have not been vocal enough  about these things but I hope you know I really do appreciate you doing this and… I love you,” you mumbled a tad bit quieter than you usually would. You’re even caught sporting a light blush of your own despite you trying your best to keep a nonchalant front. This isn’t your first time telling him you love him but, still, being so heartfelt like this has you blushing.

Megumi smiled at his usually unbothered girlfriend being so, well, bothered. 

Wrapping his hands around your waist, he goes to give you a small peck on the crown of your head before leaning in a bit more to whisper his confession. 

I love you!

Yet the words did not seem to tumble out. Although a bit disappointed in his lack of confidence, Megumi recovered quickly and instead leaned in for a sweet kiss. 

I wonder if fishes have confessions too?

“Megumi look! They’re so pretty,” you exclaimed excitedly as you pointed at a jellyfish swimming past. Megumi nods in agreement though he is honestly paying more attention to you than the exhibit.

Megumi has taken it upon himself to set up another good date  to confess on. Truth be told, he’s had far too many nightmare-ish thoughts about his recent failures in confessing and how he’ll never be able to say it. So, to take action, Megumi decides to take you on another date. This time he decided that maybe visiting an aquarium would be fun!

He is sorely mistaken, unfortunately.

As you continue to walk through the exhibit, you fail to notice Megumi lagging a bit behind you in the aquarium tunnel. Your attention was so fixated by the fishes swimming over your head and on each of your sides, that you missed the sight of your boyfriend darkly muttering (and struggling) on his confession script. 

Or so he thought...

“Honestly, why can’t I just be a fish-”

“Why would you want to be a fish though?” you asked as you leaned in towards him. 

Megumi’s eyes widen in surprise at your sudden intrusion. Megumi supposes that he’s been too lost to the world. He shook his head and just muttered a quiet “never mind”. 

The day continued as you enjoyed your day. You feast your eyes on magnificent sea creatures both great and small; you can’t help but awe at them as a child would. Not that Megumi minded, he thinks you look absolutely adorable when you coo at the sharks or clap at the seals when they would do a trick. However, Megumi couldn’t say he’s enjoying today as much because he continued to struggle with his little confession script, either chickening out at the last minute or completely missing the perfect timing. 

By the end of the day, Megumi decided enough is enough. Under the dim lights of the empty “deep sea” sector of the zoo, Megumi closed his eyes and steeled himself. Summoning every bit of courage he had within him, he blurted out his confession. It was a bit aggressive and loud, perhaps even a bit rushed. 

But he did it-

-not.

Megumi opened his eyes, to be greeted not by your soft smile. It wasn’t even your frown. Instead, he was greeted by a fish staring directly at him through the aquarium glass. It seems to be mocking him, almost. And as for you, you were already at the other side of the area, lining up to pay for a souvenir that caught your eyes. 

Ugh, why can’t he just be a fish and blow bubbles at you to show his love? 

Wine is a  poetic mood-setter, right?

Although tired and defeated by his numerous failed attempts, Megumi is not one to give up. This is especially true when it comes to you. So, if one plan fails then best be known he is already running back to the drawing board to come up with a new one.

This time around Megumi decided to pull up on all the stops. Sparing no expense, he reserved a table at one of the city’s most high-end restaurants. I mean what could be more romantic than a late-night wine-and-dine?

To Megumi it’s not the pricey menus that are troubling, nor is it the number of strings he had to pull to get the reservation. Nope. What’s troubling him is the confession he is secretly building up to. You see, it’s been a good handful of months since Megumi came to the realization that he absolutely adores you. 

He loves you.

Yet, somehow, saying it out loud is a whole different league than thinking and coming to terms with it. Something about admitting it and posing vulnerable seems so jarring to him. Of course, you’ve never given him any reason to fear being honest with you. He supposes that if anything were to cause him to be this certain way, then it’s probably the lack of touchy-feely emotions in his childhood. That aside, Megumi is still as determined as ever to tell you that he loves you. This brings us to the current situation. 

Megumi is seated opposite of you, decked in his slickest suit and tie. You had admitted that he looks ridiculously good in his outfit before the dinner (he blushes at the comment). Naturally, you were also in a rather stunning number yourself, with the scandalous-looking outfit only you could possibly pull off. 

As much as Megumi would love to just admire you and enjoy the amazing atmosphere, he has other things currently occupying his head. At first glance, you might’ve thought that he was flustered by your choice of outfit for the night if you didn’t know any better. This is, of course, one of the reasons why Megumi was a bit dazed but sadly that’s not the only reason why. 

You didn’t really connect the dots right away. There are a bunch of little crumbs and pieces that could’ve contributed to Megumi’s flustered and jumpy attitude in this particular evening but nothing defining. 

The evening progressed and more telltale signs showed themselves to you. You could honestly write a meter-long list but to keep it concise, the things you have noticed include Megumi’s inability to look you directly in the eye, the rather incessant twiddling of his thumbs, the stutter that accompanied his usually leveled voice, and finally (and the most telling) is his avoidance of the word “love”. 

Of course, it could all be a coincidence but you think not. Although you didn’t do much to garner his “suspicion”, you’re not daft nor were you ignorant. You knew of his struggles in dropping a particular “L” word. You had honestly known for a while. It’s not that you were a psychic or anything of that sort, it was actually because Megumi had not been the most secretive of his plans. You suppose he intended for it to be a “hush-hush” plan but unfortunately for Megumi, he had a tendency to think out loud when stressed. 

Though you were originally planning to let Megumi off the hook and let him figure things out on his own, you decided that leaving him to wallow on his own is doing more harm than good. So when Megumi choked rather aggressively at his pasta when you said the word “love”, you chose to bring up the topic. 

“So, when are you gonna tell me what’s been cooking up in that head of yours… hmm?”

Megumi’s eyes widened at the question you’ve just asked, though it seems more like a prompt than a question. Megumi looked down to his lap for a second before facing you again, this time sporting an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. 

Megumi struggled to confess before letting out a defeated sigh and a small apology. This caused you to shake your head, not in a dismissive way but in a way to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry for. 

“Megumi, I know you know I know so I’ll just say it outright,” you huffed before continuing, “I love you’s aren’t something you can or should force out. I’ve said it to you on countless accounts because it comes naturally to me, love. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel cornered into saying it but please know that I don’t mind you taking your time, ok?”

Your little speech was met with a relieved sigh and soon followed by a laugh. You look up to see Megumi’s genuine grin in place, you can’t help but smile at the endearing sight. 

“Ahh, I should’ve known not to stress over these kinds of things when it’s with you, huh? Thanks. I’ll definitely take my time with it.” 

You nodded in agreement at his newfound determination. As much as you wanted to hear those three words tumble out of his lips and uttered to you, you knew better than to rush him into it. And besides, hearing it in full sincerity will definitely be better than hearing a rushed one. With all that said, you and Megumi enjoyed the rest of the evening with wine glasses raised and the air filled with happy chatters and laughs. 

And I thought it was difficult, huh?

A streak of light shone through the gaps in the curtains, making it known to you that it is time to get up already. Or, at least, it would be time to get up had it been a weekday. Thankfully, however, it is the weekend so you can take your time in getting up. While your boyfriend slept soundly beside you, his hand draped loosely over your figure, you can’t help but admire his features. As you did so, thoughts on what happened a while back popped into your head. 

 It’s been a few months since your last dinner date with Megumi and things have calmed down quite a bit. Although Megumi still feels a twinge of guilt from his lack of response whenever you whisper an “I love you”, he does remember your take on this situation, and those few words you spared have done immense work in calming him down. 

As you continue to reminisce on the events that have transpired in the last few months, you failed to notice Megumi stirring awake beside you. You only notice that he’s awake when he’s poking your cheek, asking, no, demanding petulantly for his morning kisses. 

Deciding to tease him a bit while he’s still in his morning daze, you uttered, “Sorry, love. Morning breath.” You went as far as sniffing at his general direction and fanning your hands over your nose and scrunched your nose up in fake disgust. 

Still in a sleepy stupor, Megumi pouts at you and goes to get out of bed. You decide to let your curiosity win and end up following your boyfriend to the bathroom, the cold linoleum tiles doing wonders in waking the two of you up immediately. 

Though he is now much more awake now than a few minutes ago, it didn’t dampen his pout one bit. With the handle of his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, Megumi babbled on about how his day is now ruined because you wouldn’t let him start it off with a kiss. You only giggled in response, your own toothbrush poking out of your lips. 

Being the menace that you are, you decided to playfully smear Megumi’s face with some toothpaste foam. One thing led to another and soon you two are on the bathroom floor laughing aloud. Somehow his laugh and expressions egged yours on and yours did his which caused a new bout of laughter to erupt every time you’d both fall silent. It went on like this for quite some time but neither of you minded it one bit.  

Now that the laughter has died down a bit, you both exchanged mini banters here and there, still seated on the floor with both your shoulders touching; with toothpaste in your hair and on his cheek. As you giggled at a particular joke Megumi muttered, he felt that odd feeling in his heart again, just like the time in the park and all those other dates he stressed over but this time, before he could stop it, he whispered…

“I love you.”

Your laughter immediately ceased only to be replaced by the happiest grin you’ve ever mustered. With new buzzing energy coursing through you, you tackled Megumi into a hug which effectively knocked the two of you down to the ground but neither you nor Megumi minded.

With his newfound confidence, Megumi repeated the foreign sentence over and over again as if he’s testing it out. He finds that he likes saying it. 

He likes it because your smile widens a bit more when he says it. 

He likes it because you’d give him kisses whenever he says it.

And he absolutely loves it because you’d always say it back to him.

With a wobbly and lovesick grin, Megumi says it one more time for good measure. 

“I love you.” 

a.n. I did not really proofread this bcs I had classes today and it KO'd me :"(

Hope you liked it!

[arliedraws]

In the books, Sirius's devotion to Harry is of course very deep, but it never translates to something physical. He only shakes Harry's end when he leaves his bedside in book 4, and in book 5 there is something resembling a hug, like twice...? As a dog he stood up his hind legs and front paws on harry's shoulders and a half hug after Christmas. Idk it sort of drives me crazy, because in the movies Harry and Sirius are so affectionate! That first hug when Harry arrives in Grimmauld!! Gary and Dan had an amazing chemistry that other actors were jealous of, they mirrored the book characters, so it palpable on screen, the few scenes Gary is in at all at least.

So, what do you make of this? Do you in musing for art imagine a more affectionate relationship between Harry and Sirius? Maybe if Sirius survived the war? Molly's hug in book 4 was a poignant moment but imo that should have been a moment between Sirius and Harry. Sirius already says he expected something catastrophic to happen to Harry in the third task, that's what he stutters when Harry comes in with Dumblebore. So he is literally afraid of his godsons life and it still shows of course, Sirius staying at Harry's side was very beautifully written, like the devotion is clear, but I am foaming at the mouth for more affection between them in canon? Platonic, not shipping. So between the movies and the books Im just kinda torn what's better

It's more a rant than an ask, sorry lol, but if you have any input I'd he so stoked to read it. Not many peeps in the fandom even give Sirius and Harry any time of day, nvrmind even understand what they had (which also drives me kinda nuts but ok)

Ohhhh, anon, you’ve come to the right spot! Mostly because I love them. I would say that 80% of my fandom interest is just Sirius being a dad to Harry.

To your question, I don’t think one is better than the other. Each has their purpose. Let me share my thoughts:

1. I am soft for movie Sirius and Harry’s affectionate touching. However. The dynamics of their relationship were NOT mirrored from the books, which…is fine. Honestly, I just don’t think it was a priority for the filmmakers. This particular bit doesn’t bother me because the movies are not supposed to replace the source material—they are an interpretation. To me, watching the movies is like reading fic—fun to watch but not canon. Also, the filmmakers removed so much of their relationship in GoF that they HAD to make Sirius and Harry physically affectionate in order for movie audiences to see what losing Sirius would mean to Harry. Their complexity is completely unexplored in the films, and they had to do SOMETHING to get the audience to feel sad when Sirius died. This started in PoA when they really downplayed the context of their relationship. (Lol, see my rant on PoA. I really don’t like that movie hahahahaha.)

2. In the books, Harry and Sirius are not physically affectionate with each other despite their intense love for each other, and I think this is an effective way to show characterization. As I tell my students, this might have been intentional by the author, but it could have been an instinct that she followed (what feels right for the characters).

Here’s what I think: both are so terrified of losing the other that they won’t allow themselves to get too close, and, crucially, they both fear showing vulnerability. Touching someone and reaching out for a hug or comfort is an extremely vulnerable thing to do. If you reach out for a hug, you are showing your true feelings. To be rejected physically is sometimes more devastating than someone telling you to just “go away.” It’s a sign of trust to touch someone—you are trusting that they feel the same way about you, and you are trusting that they won’t pull away. Both Sirius and Harry understand rejection, and both avoid it. How do you avoid rejection? You distance yourself.

I’ll put the rest under a cut because I think this might get long…

Sirius and Harry, for all that they love each other, fall out of trusting each other by OotP. Part of this is trauma, but it is also miscommunication. Harry is worried that Sirius will do something stupid—either out of concern for Harry or because he wants to get out of number 12–but he’s worried he’ll lose Sirius. So by withholding affection (which I’m not sure if he knows how to give physically), Harry distances himself from Sirius which will, theoretically, keep Sirius safe (of course, it backfires). Sirius is…you know…going through stuff in OotP. He is already vulnerable—he perceives himself as being emasculated because he’s not allowed to leave his childhood home and he’s relegated to performing ‘uninteresting, domestic work’, and he must be inactive when he’s a man OF action.

When it comes to Goblet of Fire and the odd handshake… I think Sirius is reeeeeally holding back. Harry does NOT want him to go, and Sirius knows this. (Why DOES Dumbledore send him away? Literally anyone else could have “alerted the old crowd” and NOT the convicted murderer. This is clearly the author’s excuse to get Sirius away from Harry—and, I’ve spoken to this before, Sirius is too much of a miracle character—too smart, too loyal, too loving to support the story that the author wanted to tell.) Sirius, if he had stayed, would have been the emotional support that Harry needed. So if Sirius holds Harry, what if Harry doesn’t let go? What if Sirius himself can’t let go? A handshake will have to do.

So Sirius leaves Harry with that bizarre handshake. That Sirius leaves at all damages their relationship—it could have been repaired with time (if they’d been allowed time), but this moment makes Harry realize that he cannot rely on anyone, not even Sirius. This leaves Harry to be isolated in OotP, and it leaves him to feel like he cannot trust anyone. I’m not blaming Sirius for leaving, but I believe this action causes a rift between them that carries into the next book.

My point is, I HATE that they don’t touch but it is very important that they don’t, at least when it comes to the story that the author wanted to tell. I think it was the right move when we look at the story as a whole. Do I like it? NO! But it’s interesting, and it DOES feel right for them. Is it devastating? Yes!!!!!!!

TL;DR: I don’t think either interpretation is necessarily better than the other, but they both have their purpose. Both are effective!

Touch is…huge in HP. Consider Voldemort’s “I can touch him now” and causing Harry pain. Touch is a privilege, and to be touched without permission is a violation. Harry kills someone by touching them. He is only touched by his family when Dudley beats him up or he gets shoved in his cupboard.

Weirdly, one of my absolutely favorite moments when Sirius and Harry touch is in PoA when the Dementors are closing in on Sirius, Harry, and Hermione, and Harry, as he’s about to faint, reaches out to grab an unconscious Sirius by the arm, thinking something along the lines of “the dementors weren’t going to take him” and such. And this is about two seconds after Harry has accepted that Sirius is telling the truth! Harry physically tethers Sirius to him—this touch-starved teen reaches out to this man who is now everything to him, who is now his only real family, willing to risk death (or worse) to keep it. BUT THEY JUST MET!!!!! Devastating!!!

Also…another thought: the first time Sirius and Harry touch is the first time Sirius has been touched as a human in twelve years. And Harry is beating the absolute shit out of him…and then Sirius nearly strangles him…

Also, also, not to like…self-promote, but if you want some Sirius & Harry family feelings and a wee bit of affectionate touching, I wrote a one-shot where they talk about their feelings in OotP.

Anyway, this got longer than I thought. Thank you for the prompt!!

[aidenlydia]

was just wondering how you chose if/when Riley wears his mask. Most of your pieces have the mask lifted off only his mouth but some have it dully on or fully off. I was wondering if there was a specific reason for that or just what you think looks good?

It's a mix of reasons.

The first is pretty simple: I like drawing expressions, faces and most importantly, intimacy. That's why my Ghost rarely ever wears glasses and usually has his mask lifted. It not only shows his vulnerability with MacTavish, but also allows them to kiss, have direct eye contact and be skin to skin. Speaking of, painting realistic skin is very satisfying to me and covering it up with cloth kills me a little. Same with drawing ears, I sacrificed so many good ears in favor of that mask..

Second, I get bored easily. Drawing the same mask/glasses/headset/jacket combo over and over again without any human features burns me out. I knew immediately I needed a face design and different outfits for Ghost, despite really loving his whole look and actually preferring him all covered up. Unfortunately that just isn't in the cards for me, so I switch between fully masked, half masked, bare faced and medical mask to keep him fresh and interesting for myself. Even his body type changes, he goes from twink to more sturdy builds depending on how bored I am with it.

(MacTavish is less of a problem but I do switch it up by changing his clothes, having him be shirtless or fluctuate his muscle mass.)

To put it into a bit more perspective: my art process is jumping between countless WIPs in various stages of completion and artstyles until something happens to get finished eventually - my SoapGhost WIP folder alone is currently at 339 pieces - and if a painting takes me longer than a day to complete, chances are I'll drop it and pick it back up again in anywhere between a week or a year (it's a miracle I get anything done at all).

So I'll do whatever it takes to actually help me continue drawing and manage my constant burnout. Being chronically ill and creative is the worst combo, I think about completely quitting art every other day :')

And third, well. Sometimes it really is simply about which one looks better.

[shitpostingperidot]

How old is Carol Danvers???

(Inspired by a post by @blindluck which was in turn inspired by a post by me and @marvelsassbutts )

So I just found out the official Captain Marvel wiki places Carol Danvers’s birth date in 1965. At first I thought “that’s ridiculous” for reasons that will become clear through this long ass post. But then I saw they cited drawings by the assistant art director on Captain Marvel, found on her portfolio! That’s pretty official!

Wait what’s that at the bottom…

1984???? For Carol’s USAFA basic training???? This is impossible, the movie is wrong, and here’s why.

(Excerpt from my future video essay incoming)

There are no dates in Higher, Further, Faster; the marketing text on Amazon, Liza Palmer’s website, etc just says “80s.” So, we need to do some detective work.

We know that the 2019 film Captain Marvel takes place in 1995. Since it takes place in Southern California and Louisiana, the warm weather doesn’t tell us much about the time of year. Personally, I believe it takes place on March 8, 1995, because that’s the exact day I was born, and my birthday is the day the movie was released on to coincide with International Women’s Day. Regardless, Monica Rambeau is eleven years old in the film, putting her birth in 1983 or 1984. So, Maria’s pregnancy must have begun in 1982 or 1983.

Here’s a “fun” fact about US military academies: until less than one year ago (summer 2023, a full three years after Captain Marvel came out), cadets at USAFA who became pregnant were required to either drop out, have an abortion, or relinquish their parental rights to their child.

Dropping out also means reimbursing the government for your tuition for all classes you’ve taken up to this point, and giving up your ability to be commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force upon graduation. Definitely not an option someone as driven as Maria wants to consider. In fact, we know this isn’t what happened, because this news article Carol hung up in her spaceship in The Marvels says that Maria Rambeau is a USAFA graduate.

We also know that Maria didn’t have an abortion, because, well, Monica Rambeau herself is tangible evidence. Theoretically, it is possible for Maria to have given up parental rights and adopted back her own child after graduation. Before the policy change in 2023 that allowed cadets to be parents, many found this to be their best option (see the article I screenshotted above). However, this process is really expensive and takes a lot of work with a lawyer over a period of months or years. From the little we know of Carol and Maria’s life pre-crash, (it was busy, they lived in an expensive area, and Maria only had Carol for support), I think we can assume that it’s less likely that Maria was forced to adopt her own daughter than that Maria graduated USAFA before becoming pregnant in 1982 or 83.

That still doesn’t answer the question of when this book takes place, though. The exact year is important, as the military had some major differences under the Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan administrations of the 70s and 80s, and one of the things I want to assess this book on is accuracy.

Oh wait, what’s that? Another discriminatory policy that helps us date this book? That’s right, USAFA didn’t enroll women as cadets until Public Law 94-106 went into effect in 1976.

What’s more, Carol and Maria cannot have been part of this first group of women cadets, because in the book, there is an upperclassman character who is a woman. Officer Cadet Chen is one of the leaders of Basic Training for Carol and Maria’s flight, a position cadets aren’t allowed to hold until their third or fourth year at the Academy.

So, Carol and Maria must enter USAFA no earlier than 1978 to be two or more years younger than Chen, and must graduate no later than 1983 for Monica to exist. To comply with the marketing blurb’s declaration that this book takes place “in the 80s”, let’s say that Carol and Maria’s first year is the 1979-1980 school year.

(End excerpt)

In conclusion, Maria and Carol were born in 1960 or 1961 (with pretty equal likelihood of which birthday makes them 18 at the start of the book, since USAFA basic happens the summer before the school year), not 1965. It would be impossible for them to have done basic training in 1984 as in the production drawing, because they would have to have already graduated and be well on their way to test pilot school which is a whole other policy can of worms before Monica’s birth in 1983 or 1984.

In conclusion conclusion, Carol is ~34 in Captain Marvel and ~64 in The Marvels, and the MCU should hire fans to fact check for them.

[chunkypossum]

Embers in the Wind

Sending y'all off with this before I go to bed so I don't have to remember to post it later! Happy POLY ACOTAR WEEK thank you @acourtofladydeath for all the tireless work you've done to set this up and prepare everything. I am so excited!!

Nesta X Cassian x Eris for @polyacotarweek

DAY 1: BEGINNINGS

Part 1/4

4k words

Cassian and Nesta are happier than they have ever been, or so they thought. When their mating bond snapped, it wasn’t only euphoric it was healing. Both Cassian and Nesta had so many years of trauma to overcome to finally learn to love each other properly. So, what happens when they get thrown a third mating bond that they never expected? What happens when their new mate can’t handle the pressure of the bond? What happens when it's someone they thought they were supposed to hate?

READ ON AO3

Snippet under the cut.

Cassian couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t as if he was excited to have to begin the day meeting with Eris either, but what could he do? Rhys needed this information passed on as quickly as possible and they were already traveling. It just made sense.  “Here I was thinking we decided to pity him instead of outright hate him.” Cassian teased.  “I do pity him,” Nesta began, “I pity the fact that he also has to put up with his personality.”  This made Cassian roar with laughter again and by the time they were landing, both of them were giggling like gossiping school children.  The perfect eye roll, one that you could feel someone give you from across a room, was an art. One that Eris Vanserra had become an expert in over the years. It burned him and Cassian rolled his shoulders back like he was trying to shake off the firelord’s judgment. Taking a deep breath, Cassian turned to Eris with a smile.  “Prince,” he said with a mocking half bow. Nesta snickered next to him and Eris blew out an exasperated breath. The male was watching them from a nearby tree. On his stomach, his long body was stretched out lazily along the length of a thick branch. One arm was tucked under his head to rest his cheek and he almost looked like a painting, surreal and deadly.

If anyone wants on or off the taglist please let me know!

@hieragalbatorixdottir @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 

[divine-donna]

ghostface! art donaldson. but also what about ghostface! tashi duncan?

tashi duncan, who's your number one fan. who knows what's best for you. who is always by your side as you go through another turbulent and public breakup.

she's your costar, your rock. you guys came up together. you guys starred in a disney channel sitcom. since then, you've been each other's most valiant supporters. you wouldn't be without tashi duncan.

you guys are frequent collaborators. you got to be a supporting actor in her directorial debut. and she's taken a back seat from acting. the cameras are "too invasive" as she puts it.

tashi knows you're popular. so popular. you've dealt with one too many stalker cases. that's okay. because tashi will take care of you. she'll make sure no one hurts you again.

a little blood never hurt anyone. and she's flawless when doing it too. never leaves a trace. cleans up well. creates whole narratives for why these people disappeared. she goes full joe goldberg when she has the time. note the when.

you're blissfully unaware of the mess, of the way tashi's hands are stained with blood. that's okay. she likes to keep you in the dark, content and mentally well. you look so cute all cuddled up in her bed after an exhausting afterparty at the critics choice awards.

and then you started seeing someone. he's a producer. he's not that significant. this is his first big project, working with you and tashi duncan. but she can't help the way jealousy flares up in her body seeing you two together. he was so in love with you that it was disgusting.

tashi always butted heads with him. it created a hostile environment on set. but she was smart. she played it cool, while your boyfriend took the bait and would react. and soon enough, he was kicked off the project.

your boyfriend noticed the way you and tashi were close. unbearably so. it felt like there was three people in the relationship and he was third wheeling. he overheard the way tashi called you "babe" and "baby," the way she caresses your face, how her touch lingers on you a little longer, how you always wear the perfumes/colognes she picked out for you. you were her little doll and he was having none of it.

which is why she had to get rid of him.

it was a spur of the moment decision. she lost her cool. and messily cleaned everything up, even staging a terribly dry break up text.

you came running into her arms the next day. and she holds you, soothing you as she orders uber eats and opens netflix. "it's okay baby. he didn't deserve you anyways."

"why does this always happen to me?"

"because they don't see your value. they don't see you like i do. and they will never appreciate you or care for you like i do."

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Hannibal? Meeting Mads at RDC6

Following on from meeting Hugh in Boston and gifting him a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, I wanted to gift a copy to Mads.

No disrespect to Mads, but I wasn't expecting (and didn't get) the same sort of interaction I had with Hugh. I've met Mads at many cons before, including one in 2018 right before I had top surgery where I had a lovely chat with him about queer and trans Fannibals.

But I've noticed over the years, including from accounts of other Fannibals too, that he's become much more guarded in his conversations. Which is fair, his star has been forever on the rise and he's been working for bigger studios and properties. But as a trans person, I am always very cautious when people become much less vocal about something they previously seemed to support - though I do acknowledge that some people just don't want to get dragged into what they see as a volatile issue. And I knew, given how much more stoic he's become, and the time limitations of signings at cons, that this would be the case regardless of his personal point of view.

Also (and I've mentioned this before in posts about his answers on con panels), Mads has a habit of just saying what he thinks people want to hear, and what will get the biggest reaction - he's a master at fanservice. Which even includes repeating the same stories (Fragile Little Teacup for example). Which again, is not a criticism, but an observation and another reason why I was pretty nervous about meeting him again. And that was BEFORE a couple of different Fannibals approached me with concerns that some of the things he'd said at RDC6 hinted that he might be making a movie that may include a trans character in an unflattering way. (I'm still on the fence about whether that was his meaning, but I'm glad I'm already pretty emotionally divorced from him since he did FB).

ANYWAY! I had talked with the fantastic wholeanddeadly before the event and we agreed on getting his brilliant "F**k transphobia Grindelwald" art print signed in order to auction it for trans charity (in fact we ended up getting two!). As we knew in advance we would be doing this, I wanted to let Mads know, because I don't feel right auctioning something without someone's knowledge if we had already made that plan.

So, this is what happened:

I was maybe third of forth in the queue (which was huge), so this was going to be a whistle stop and I'd thought carefully how to frame it and use my words wisely. So I walked up and he said "Hello, Sir!"

Which, thanks! (always love getting correctly gendered!)

I asked "May I give you a gift", and he said "Yes, of course!"

Whilst I was getting the book out of my back I told him that I met him in 2018 right before I had gender affirming surgery and he was very kind to me. His response was along the lines of "Oh yeah?"

I continued to tell him that since then, I have been involved a lot with of the trans and non-binary Fannibals and we made this book because of what the show means to us. He took it and flicked through and stopped at some of the art and admired it. He asked if it was just about Hannibal, and I said yes because I totally blanked in the moment, so the HEU stuff will be a nice surprise for him, lol.

Then the art print got passed over by his helper and I said I didn't want him to personalise the photo as I wanted to auction it to a charity that supports trans youth if he's OK with that. And he replied "you can do anything you like with it, man." I said thanks, and we were all done.

Whilst on the surface this was all good, I was definitely struck by the difference between this and times I'd met him before (especially in 2018). And perhaps it was just down to him being more guarded, but it felt very... standoffish. Which is fine, it is what it is.

The funniest thing is that Mads often signs the characters name on the things he signs, and the one we already had signed the day before via a friend, he didn't put the character name on it. On the one he signed for me, he did: Hannibal.

I saw him hesitate part way through signing the name but it just made me chuckle at the potential that this character meant so little to him he didn't recall his name and then the next day confused him for another character - Trans Rights Wizard Hannibal!

Anyway. I hope he reads the book. I hope he gets something out of it. I hope he's not making a transphobic movie.

And I hope you'll all check out @transhanniday on here (and on Twitter), where the two signed prints and some other bits will be going up for auction soon! The proceeds will be going to UK trans youth charity Mermaids, the same charity that Deadly supported with his original art prints.