#and then boom its full of shading and lighting

[skylark-foxelea]

the buoys!!!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the breakfast

lilac, chapter two

a/n: when my love, @chvoswxtch, asked me to bring the horny energy of miss patty from gilmore girls, of course I fucking did it, I'm not a criminal, that's what we all deserve

summary: “well, hello stranger.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, wholesome villagers being adorable

word count: 2373

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The Lilac Inn wasn’t just an inn to the citizens of Dunbrook. It was its beating heart, a hub for the small community to gather. 

As the town’s only culinary establishment, the residents had always made a habit of eating a fair amount of their meals in the inn’s dining room, the door to the kitchen often staying wide open so that Harvey wouldn’t have to leave the stove in order to catch all of the juicy small-town gossip that had people blabbering. 

“Dad, did you turn off my alarm?” you snapped as soon as your scurrying feet carried you into the bustling kitchen.

Not lifting his eyes from the loaf of bread he was currently slicing, your dad simply countered with a jovial, “well, good morning to you too, sleeping beauty!”

“Dad,” you sighed, jaw clenching at his usual demeanour, the paralysing dream you’d just roused from not setting you up to be in the right mood for such a level of positivity. 

“You just looked like you could use the extra hour or two,” a smile still warm on his lips, the middle-aged man defensively raised his hands.

“But I’m supposed to help you out,” your eyes followed his movements as he trotted towards the stove, “I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”

“Exactly,” your dad passed by a hook full of tangled textiles and tossed you an apron, “that’s why I let you go a little longer so that you wouldn’t doze off on me before lunchtime arrives.” 

“I wouldn’t have dozed off…” you mumbled pettily as you tied the linen around your waist. Exhaling lowly as you watched him crack two eggs into a sizzling skillet, you asked, “what can I do?”

“Well for starters,” he tossed the shells into a small scrap bowl to his side, “these were the last eggs, so if you could go get some more out by the front desk, that would be superb.”

“Why do you have eggs on the front desk?”

“Because Otto’s chickens are laying a lot right now and so he told me he’d give me some today when he swung by for breakfast.” 

“Wait, Sheriff Nilsen has chickens now?”

“Yeah, has for a long time,” the decade of you not living here grew palpable, “he usually just drops the extra ones off here, so they should already be there because I just took his order two minutes ago.”

“Alright,” you disappeared through the back door and snaked down the narrow corridor, ending up behind the messy reception area. 

Your eyes didn’t have to search for long before you noticed the petite basket, brimming with beige eggs, resting on the top of the counter right beside the small rolodex that displayed what date it was. Grasping it in your hand, your vision momentarily drifted down to the small, framed photo nuzzled behind the ever-open logbook. Sitting on the swing that still hung from one of the sturdy trees out back, head adorably posed in a tiny palm, there a 7-year-old version of you sat, forever frozen in that singular moment, beaming up at the camera. 

“Ah!” a sharp voice boomed as you heard the front door swing shut, “oh my goodness, oh my god! Y/n!”

Raising your chin, your eyes grew wide at the rotund woman beaming at you from the doormat, “miss Rays!” you hurried around the front desk, “oh my god, it’s been so long!” 

Capturing you in a hug, she pressed your form into her bosom, “darling, we’re not in bed together, call me Donna.”

Pulling back with a light chuckle, your eyes fluttered over her features, “you haven’t changed one bit,” her lipstick still a fiery shade red and hair still short and feathery framing her plump cheeks.

“You however have,” she clasped your free hand in hers, guiding your figure to give her a good view, “oh, do a little spin for me,” you bashfully obliged with a giggle, “yes! Honey, who is this woman, what have you done with the adorable little girl I used to tutor?”

To your knowledge, Dunbrook never really had a proper school, but for as long as you could recall Donna had always operated as a teacher to the handful of children that called the reclusive mountain village their home. Even though it was just run out of her living room, she had still been the best teacher you’d ever had, her patient way rivalling any of the professors you had to endure when you went off for college. As a matter of fact, she had been the person who’d pushed you to send in the application, praising that you were too clever not to go out and change the world. 

“Oh, stop it,” you sighed light-heartedly, a chuckle still bubbling out of your chest as you shifted the subject away from your own appearance, “so, you still come here for breakfast?”

“Of course, I do, you’ve tasted your father’s cooking,” readjusting her purse, she hooked her arm in yours, “a real shame that he’s never accepted any of my offers of becoming your stepmom,” she leaned in to add as you crossed over the threshold into the dinner room, “I could have been served all my meals in bed like some Egyptian queen!” 

“I’m sure you can easily find another fellow that can handle himself in the kitchen,” the click-clack of her heels came to a stop by one of the small round tables, her eyes briefly taking in the other patrons before a slight crease appeared betwixt her polished brows. 

“Oh, darn it,” her vision stayed glued to the table in the corner as she lowered herself onto her seat, “he’s not sitting at his usual table…”

“Who?”

“The eye candy over there,” she tilted her chin in the direction of the broad, muted flannel-clad back of the man sitting by the window furthest down at the bottom of the room, “you see, I asked your dear father to always reserve this spot for me just so that I can have a great view, if you know what I mean…” gulping down the rest of his coffee, the man’s head tilted enough for you to recognise whom the rugged looking visage belonged to, “oh boy, I tell you, if I was 30 years younger…”

Haven assumed that you’d never again run into the stranger who’d helped you just the day before, a warm flutter suddenly trickled down your spine, “like that’s ever stopped you before,” you pointed out, snapping your eyes out of their trance, “so, uh, do you know what you want to eat or do you just want some coffee or something while you think on it?” you took two steps towards the oblong table where mismatched teacups where stacked and the steam of a few thermoses, all containing a different hot beverage then the next, billowed out.

“Some coffee would be lovely,” she smiled as you with one hand snatched up a mug and the decanter labelled as such, “and some oatmeal if you don’t mind, sweetie.”

Promptly pouring her a cup, you then signed off with a wink, “you got it,” before your vision landed upon the latest of Donna’s abundant infatuations once more. 

Attempting to make the short journey seem spontaneous and effortless, you bounced from table to table, topping off people's cups, before reaching the final one. 

Drawing in a deep breath, your embarrassingly giddy voice then found his ears, “well, hello stranger.” 

Eyes flickering away from the newspaper sprawled out before him, a look of shock washed over his gruff features as he glanced up at you, “oh, hi.”

“Pete–, it is Pete, right?” you checked, slight mortification beginning to brew within your belly. 

“Yes, ma'am,” his head nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want a refill, Pete?” you savoured the taste of his name on your tongue. 

“Sorry?” his brows furrowed at your offer. 

“Your coffee,” you pointed with the hand that clutched the handle of the thermos, “do you want some more?”

“Oh,” he breathed, though the puzzled look didn’t seem to fade, “yes, always.” 

Leaning in slightly over the newspaper, you filled up the drained mug, only a murky ring at the bottom indicating what it had previously contained, “and can I get you something to eat as well?” 

Eyes narrowing, he stared up at you, “is your vacation really already so boring that you got a job here or what?”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but breathe out a light chuckle as you answered, “I’m not on vacation and I guess, kinda,” staring back into his eyes as you attempted to repeat your question, “so, do you want any–,” though before you could finish the sentence, out pranced your father, a plate of food balanced in his palm. 

“2 eggs sunny side up and some sourdough toast, as per usual,” he sang as his long arm came down to slice the air between your forms, placing the dish upon the table. 

Briefly catching his eye, Pete then offered a polite nod of gratitude, “thank you,” folding the paper up and scooting the meal closer. 

Feeling the small basket of eggs disappear from your grip, you blinked back at your father as he softly requested in your ear, “honey, could you give me a hand in the back when you’re done out here?”

“Sure, dad,” you flashed him a smile before watching him disappear once more. 

Feet still glued to the floorboards right by Pete’s table, your vision then returned to him as his deep voice washed over you, “so, you’re Harvey’s kid, then?”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” your balance briefly shifted as you rocked on the balls of your feet, “thank you, by the way, for yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” his fork punctured one of the golden yokes, “how’s your car looking?” 

“I don’t really know yet. The local mechanic is taking a look today, so fingers crossed it’s not anything too catastrophic,” you felt your palms begin to sweat as he simply stared up at you in silence, “anyhow,” you averted your gaze nervously, “I’ll stop bothering you, let eat in peace,” you nearly bumped into the chair behind you as you backed up towards the kitchen, the near accident not managing to draw any words out of him, only the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “see you around, I guess…” 

“Hey, dad?” 

Briefly raising his eyes from the logbook cracked open on the wooden counter, he glanced up at you as you bounced down the wide staircase, “yeah, pumpkin?”

Hand tracing the railing, with the aid of the grip, you swung your form around the last post as you ascended the final step, “did you know that the hot water doesn’t work? Like at all.”

“Yeah, that and about a million other things around here,” he sighed, vision returning to the ledger as you rested your folded-up arms upon the top of the reception, “this is a beautiful historic building… and what I mean by that is that there are too many things that either don’t work the way they should or at all. I am not a millionaire, honey. If I was, then the issues wouldn’t be piling up the way that they are…”

Bottom lip snug between your teeth, your mind raced a moment before you quietly theorised, “exactly how long is that list?”

Eyes racing to find your eyes, your father joked, “why? Did you become a contractor while living in New York or something?”

“No, but I was always the handy one out of the two of us,” you noted before your shoulders raised in an innocent shrug, “how hard could it be?”

“Let me get this right,” he raised a palm up between you as his eyes crinkled even further, “you’re telling me you wanna try and patch this place up?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt the business side of things. When was the last time you booked out more than two rooms at a time here?”

“Oh, no, no,” the moustachioed man then began to shake his head, “you’re not turning this place into some fake, glossy tourist attraction.”

Swinging around to his side of the counter, you assured him, “hey, I’m not saying let's flood this place with tourists, but maybe just a handful more?” tilting your head in an attempt to catch his gaze that had now returned to the open book, “just enough to make ends meet, perhaps also enough to at some point hire someone else so that you won’t work yourself to death…” 

Eyes frozen on the page before him, a long exhale then flowed from his lungs as he deliberated. 

“Alright, fine, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be that bad…” he tried to downplay the smile that blossomed upon his lips.

Spine pressed against the edge of the front desk, you then braced with your palms and hauled yourself up onto the spot that was just clear enough for you to sit there without knocking any knickknacks over. 

“So,” you drew out, searching for a new topic to explore, “Donna seems to be quite set on that guy Pete to be her new husband, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harvey chortled, “but you know her, she’s like a dog spotting a pheasant every time she sees a new man. I think genuinely I might be the only person in town who isn’t either terrified of him or has some desire to sleep with him.”

“How long has he been here anyway?”

“Eh,” he glanced up at the stained glass adorning the front door as he thought, “maybe a year or two? He mostly keeps to himself, lives up in a cabin in the woods and only really comes down here to either provide some firewood to whoever needs it or have some coffee,” vision landing on you, he then noted, “you however seemed to have broken through to him quite quickly. Took me like 5 months to get anything more than a grunt of recognition out of him.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t stop your eyebrows as they promptly rose up, “well, he kinda helped me the day that I got here. He was the guy I caught a ride with…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[siribaes]

IN OUR PAST LIVES ( Part 1 )

Dario Sepúlveda x blackfem!reader (OC — Nina Fuentes)

“During his quest to find Griselda, Dario reunites with an old friend in Miami—”

PARING: Friend/ “Former Client” to Lovers

SUGGESTED TUNES💿: Mack the Knife (cover) by Tito Puente, La Plena Bomba Me Llama by Celia Cruz & Tito Puente, Yerbero Moderno by Celia Cruz, Abayarde by Tego Calderon, Una Noche Mas by Yasmin Levy

CONTENT: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, Cursing, Some racist language/ideologies (reference to La Perra Negra & the story takes place in late 1970s so you know, not the most foward-thinking of times), the main character is a sex worker, use of the Spanish language, star-crossed lovers-esque elements, references to death, drugs, trafficking, Cartel activities, or*l (fem & alluded to male receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, Fluff, Dario being lowkey a soft boy, *Unedited/Not Proofread

AUTHORS NOTE: uhmmm who else has seen alberto guerra in griselda??? 👀 it’s a great show highly recommend everyone go watch! alberto being shirtless is just an added bonus, so basically this is slightly AU-ish in this fic dario travels back to miami twice (i think i can’t remember lol) before “finding” griselda—full stop bc spoilers but yeah. the OC is a former sex worker, and Afro-Colombian/Latina (faceclaim is Yaya DaCosta <3), but yeah i hope y’all enjoy :) 💖

Medellín, Colombia - Spring 1976 (The Past)

The weather was in a particularly odd flux. For most of the day, heat raged on like an unrelenting wave, the weatherman reported scorching temperatures, a whopping, almost record breaking 101 degrees. Medellin quickly became a ghost-town, people sought refuge from the unbearable temperatures. The heat trickled its way into the evening, until around 9 or so, storm clouds suddenly swirled the sky, then, boom, a torrential downpour. The rain came down in violent pelts, hitting everything and anything insight. However, as quickly as the storm came, it went. The temperatures went down, the rain aided in crispness in the air. The wind swept through the streets and neighborhoods of Medellin, with coolness and airiness that was necessary, relieving.

Relief was exactly what Nina needed.

With the scorching temperatures, it brought a particular irritation with her clientele. It was like the hotter it became, the meaner they were. One of her regulars, Mr. Moneybags (an older gentleman, who happened to be very, very, generous with his wealth.), who was severely punctual and only wanted oral. He was never rude, impatient or rough with her. Until today. He was late, storming into her room, barking orders for her get on her knees, and when Nina finally did give him what he wanted, all Mr. Moneybags could ramble on about was high rough day at the office and he needed to tame "La Perra Negra". To make matters worse, when Mr. Moneybags orgasmed, he cummed on her shirt (a brand-new halter top, made of fine silk and in the prettiest shade of coral, it wasn't cheap, it cost her 78 pesos.) and in her hair (pillowy-soft coils as someone told her once). That was a complete, no, no.

Mr. Moneybags was the first of her clients to receive a verbal lashing, but he wasn't the last. As the hours rolled by, each man arriving acting more brutish and egregious than the last. Nina handed out her lashings with ease, all for her to be met with the same insult, fuck you, Perra Negra. The heat only fueled her rage, so much that the one customer, who had some semblance of decorum, went soft in her mouth. He quickly scurried out, offering a sympathetic smile, and promised that he'll come back next week, when she felt better.

So, when the storm came, Nina was more than relieved. She got some reprieve from her finnicky clients, even though her room was tucked away on the further corner of the brothel, the rain seemed to drown out the noise from the other end of the compound. She was able to soak her stresses away in her tub, light a candle or two, slip on her favorite mini-silk robe, and actually rest. The raindrops served as a lullaby from Nina as she drifted off to sleep.

Now, at 2 AM, Nina sat in a chair on her small balcony. She people-watched from her small corner, relishing in the cool breeze the generously fanned over her skin. She more than deserved this peace and stillness after the shit she had to deal with. After a while, Nina became engrossed in this older couple blocks away, were dancing in the middle of the street. She was so enraptured with the couple she didn't even hear the door creep open.

A familiar scent drifted through the air, a blend of cinnamon, tobacco, cardamom, and strangely mint. Nina couldn't help the smile the curled onto to her lips, as heavy footsteps inched closer and closer.

"You left the door open,"

Nina smirked. "What if I left it open for you,"

"Hm. That's unlike you,"

Nina turned around meeting those soft, russet-colored eyes, she cared to enjoy so much. She playfully batted her eye lashes.

"Oh, Dario, you mustn't forget, you are my favorite customer," Nina purred. She rose from her seated position, and unabashedly took in Dario's appearance.

He was meticulously dressed, he wore neatly ironed, black slacks with a coordinating black dress shirt. A few buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of warm-tawny skin, and the ink-colored edges of a tattoo. Nina wondered sometimes what the fully tattoo would look like, or better, would she ever get to see it.

From the first night they met, Nina gathered that Dario was someone who took pride in their appearance. He was never sloppy, not a flick of dirt or dust sullied his clothes or shoes. Thick, brown tresses were combed and quaffed with care, while he maintained neatly trimmed facial hair. Even the way Dario carried himself was equally irresistible, he possessed a poise and calmness that was developed, cultivated, even. He was careful with his words, never speaking out of turn or without thought. He charmed his way into people's hearts, both old and young alike.

Dario was a true debonair. It was the perfect distraction from what he truly was, a hit man. El Sicario.

"You look thirsty," Nina strutted past Dario to the small bar along the wall inside, "Would you like a drink?"

''Not tonight,"

Nina tsked, "Where's the fun in that? You can't just humor me, I've had a terrible day and--"

"Enough Nina," She paused to looked over her shoulder at him. His brows were furrowed, as looked intensely at Nina. After a beat, Nina turned a back around, pouring some tequila in a glass. She turned back around, gesturing for Dario to speak. "I'm looking for someone," Dario pulled a photo out of his front pocket.

"Aren't you always," Nina sassed. She couldn't help it, she was enjoying seeing Dario a bit peeved, it was so refreshing to see, even Dario, el sicario himself, could be annoyed.

He shows her the photo, "Vincent Fernandez, you know him?"

Nina scans the picture, taking in the face of the man.

"Yes and no," Dario's eyebrow quirks, "His real name is Vincent, but nobody calls him that. He goes by Chuy,"

"Okay...Chuy, have you seen him?"

"Yeah, a few weeks ago. He was coming out of Carmen's room...now that I think about it, she was leaving with him. She carried a suitcase too. Haven't seen her since,"

Immediately, Dario balled up the picture, flinging at the wall. He began to pace and back forth, his left handed raked through his hair, messing up that of that beautiful handiwork.

Something thrummed inside of Nina as she watched Dario slowly lose composure. Dario’s beautiful features were twisted with frustration, his jaw was clenched, and eyes were blazed. He stopped pacing and stood next to a small coffee table with vase that sat on top. With hesitation, Dario snatched the vase and launched it at the wall. Ceramic shards exploded on impact, pieces flew everywhere in the process.

"FUCK!"

"What the hell is your problem!?" Nina rushed over, she brushed past him, and picked up a broken piece of the vase, "Fuckin' pendejo, this was a gift from a friend," She was seething, gearing up to cuss him out to fullest extent but she paused. On one of the broken pieces with a red speck. Nina's eyes drifted towards the floor, seeing a trail of red spots, the spots grew larger and larger, until there was a small pool of blood underneath Dario's hand. "...You're bleeding,"

"What?" Dario one step but Nina quickly stopped him.

"Stop! Stop, it's getting all on the floor. Go to the bathroom and rinse the cut. When your done there's a first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide in cabinet, grab it, and sit on the couch," Dario just stood there a bit lost in his eyes, "Vete! Go, now!"

Dario disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Nina in the mess he created.

---

"This is going to sting so keep still," The two sat next to each other on the couch. In one hand, Nina gently cradled Dario's hand, his wounded palm facing up. The other hand held a cotton ball soaked in Hydrogen peroxide. She slowly inched the ball towards the cut, when it the skin, Dario instantly hissed, moving his hand slightly. Nina pressed again, trying to be a bit softer than before, but Dario jerked his hand away again. Nina swatted at his stomach. "Ay! Stop moving,"

Dario finally complied, relaxing against her touch, letting her clean the cut. A quietness fell over them as Nina worked in a comfortable rhythm of wiping and dabbing.

"I'll make sure to pay for the vase," Nina stopped, looking up at Dario. There was a sincerity in his eyes, and something else...embarrassment maybe? "The least I could do, since you put up with shit all the time..."

Nina bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling, at Dario's gesture. She said nothing in return, but instead sat the used cotton balls to the side and reached for the roll of bandages. Nina couldn't make heads or tails of how she felt about Dario right. One part of her was agitated with him with how he broke her vase and how edgy he was being towards her all of the sudden. The other part of her was attracted to Dario, something about him losing control like that revved her engine. For once he wasn't so controlled and calculated, he was human, flaws and all.

"I know I'm not supposed to ask, but, why are you looking for Chuy?" Nina asked, slowly wrapped the bandages around Dario's hand.

To Nina's surprise, he answered. "He took something that didn't belong to him,"

"...Oh. Oh," Nina nodded realizing what Dario what he meant. Chuy had to have stolen a kilo or two of coke from them. Everyone in Medellin knew stealing from the Bravo family was a guaranteed death sentence. "Shit, I should've known..."

Dario shook his head. "It's not on you. The sneaky bastard managed to fool all of us, especially me,"

Nina chuckled nervously as she tucked the last strip of the bandage underneath a bottom layer.

"All finished," She slowly let go of Dario's hand to gather and put back her supplies, "I would give it a day before checking the cut to see if its healing. Just try to keep it your hands clean the best you can,"

Dario nodded. "Thank you,"

Nina smiled gently at him. She could feel his eyes on her as she bounced around and out of the room disposing of the trash and putting her supplies back. When she came back into the room, she found Dario relaxed against the couch looking outside. She followed his gaze up to the night sky. The normal starry, ink-colored sky was now filled with stormy clouds.

"It's going to rain again," Nina murmured, she returned to her spot next to Dario.

"How'd you figure?"

Nina pointed to the sky. "The clouds. Plus, the air is getting thick...y'know humidity,"

Dario laughed, flashing those gorgeous pearly whites, making Nina's heart skip a beat. He quickly quieted as a look of curiosity filled his expression.

"Where'd you learn to do that kind of stuff...like patch people up?"

"I guess I got tired of getting rug burns and bruises on my knees from giving head so much. It's bad for business,"

"That's fucked up,"

Nina shrugged. "It's a part of the job. I have to be perfect and presentable at all times. It's what sells the fantasy. So, I had to become my own doctor, learn how to patch myself up. I also learned, that if I was on my knees for too long, all the time, I wasn't doing my job correctly.

Dario tipped his head, scratching at his goatee, "Where the guys always that rough with you?"

"Someone is mighty curious tonight," Nina teased. She twirled a coil round her pointer finger, "but, to answer your question, no. Some tried to, but I was always on guard. I had to be, I'm the only black girl here...La Perra Negra. Before my regulars, most of the guys thought because I’m black, a morenita, that's I wanted. It took some threats and me pulling out my switch blade a couple of times, but they got the picture. Sometimes I feel bad for them...they’re so caught up in fucking me as a conquest, and not for their own pleasure. Typical men,"

Dario's brow quirked. "Typical?"

"You know what I mean. Most men when they have sex are either caught up in some ego thing, or only focus on pleasuring themselves they don't bother in pleasuring their partners, especially if the partner is a woman,"

"I suppose you're right,"

"You suppose? Do you feel the opposite?”

"Not entirely. You do have a point…I guess I’m not most men. I like pleasuring my woman,” Dario rasped. His pink tongue swiped at his bottom lip before continuing, “It turns me on to see her lose..composure ‘cause I’m fuckin’ her so good. I dunno it just gets me there. I could never get hard or cum without doing so,”

From the tops of Nina's ears all the way to the bottoms of her manicured toes, she ran hot. Her mind raced with flashes of images of her and Dario in the nastiest of scenarios. If she wasn't sure about being attracted to Dario, this solidified it. Despite her growing need to literally lunge herself at him, she pulled back. She needed to make him sweat.

"I guess there's some room for exceptions," Nina hummed, she readjusted herself, re-crossing her legs, make sure to give him a quick flash of her lacy panties. She secretly thanked her Orishas, when she saw Dario's eyes wander to her thighs.

"I had customer the other day," Nina continued, "Sweet guy, couldn't fuck to save his life, so I suggested get on top. I thought riding him would be better, but it wasn't. So, in a last-ditch effort, I closed my eyes and imagined it someone else..."

"Who did you imagine?"

"...You. I imagined you underneath me, fucking me. I fantasized about those beautiful brown eyes staring up at me. How it would feel to have your hands on me...all the things those hands could do. Like would you pull my hair, or grip my hips so hard that I would have bruises? Or, would you smack my ass while you stroked, deep inside me...even better would you hold my hands behind my back, while you played with my clit? Then, like magic, I came...I don't think I've cum so hard in my life—”

He cut her off with kiss. It was gentle and sweet. As Dario moved his lips, he gingerly swept his tongue against Nina’s lips savoring her taste. He snaked his arms around Nina’s waist, drawing her closer to him. A small whimper escaped Nina as Dario’s hands roamed her body. She felt her body hum with need as he rubbed and squeezed at her flesh. A smarting slap from Dario caused Nina to mewl breaking the kiss.

“Fuck! Dario,” Nina whined. She leaned her forehead against Dario’s. She pulled back to see Dario’s face fully, her heart rattled against her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Mi hermosa mariposa," Dario murmured, hands drifted up and down the sides of Nina's torso. She felt a wetness begin to pool beneath her, the more Dario caressed her.

“I want you,”

Dario smiled softly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Nina nodded her hands reaching for Dario’s belt buckle, but he stopped her.

“It’s not about me tonight,” he hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around him as he carried Nina to bed. Dario dropped her softly down the plush sheets. “It’s all about you,”

Nina could tell from the serious yet lustful glint in his eyes that Dario meant every word he said. She sat up on her elbows watching as Dario’s nimble fingers undid the belt of her robe. He pushed the fabric, revealing nothing but soft curves, rich brown skin and lacy fabric. With his pointer finger, Dario traced Nina's collar bone, dragging it down her navel, leaving a trail of goosebumps the further down he went. Nina's breath hitched in her throat as Dario's thumbs rubbed soft circles on the skin above the waistband of her panties.

"I like the way your eyes light up when I touch you, solecita,"

"Please, Dario. Enough games,"

Dario chuckled. He held her hips in place, sinking down to his knees.

"Patience," Dario held his gaze as he inched his head closer to Nina's clothed pussy. The two moaned in unison when Dario licked a stripe at Nina's clothed entrance. He continued on licking, probing, and mouthing her pussy. Moans fell helplessly from Nina's lips as she felt the lacy fabric rub against her clit. Dario relentlessly moved his tongue, spurring Nina on, she felt slick dripping downwards on her thighs.

"More. I need more, baby, please,"

It was like switch went off in Dario. He stopped all movement, as he just stared at Nina. Long eyelashes fluttered as he slowly blinked.

"Baby...say that again," he murmured.

"Baby," Nina cooed. She sat up, reaching for Dario, she cupped his cheek. He nuzzled her cheek, placing a kiss on her palm.

Then like a flash, Dario ripped Nina's panties a part. He skillfully gathered the torn shreds and flung them away. He dove straight for Nina's pussy. Despite his meticulous nature, when it came to pleasure Dario was sloppy. There was no spot or area left unattended. His tongue alternating between swirling and lapping Nina's clit. Dario's pace was so unrelenting, it sent Nina's body into throws of pleasure. Just when she felt the familiar coil in her belly, Dario pulled back, only to blow cooly onto her drenched pussy.

"B-baby, fuck!" Nina yelped aloud, her hands found themselves back into Dario's hair, as he returned back to her core.

He placed a wet kiss, creating a lewd smacking noise that echoed into the air. Dario dove back in, plunging his expertly skilled tongue into her entrance, fucking her. Nina felt like her entire body was on fire, completely blazed with pleasure as Dario relentlessly fucked her pussy. Her mind swirled feeling the familiar coil in her stomach become tighter and tighter.

"I-I'm gonna cum. Oooh shit," Nina panted. She pulled tighter at Dario's hair. "I'm c-cuming, fuckkkk!"

The coil snapped. Nina shakily thrusted her hips towards Dario's mouth, riding out her orgasm. Dario stayed still softly lapping up her cum, he did keep gentle hand on Nina's waist to steady her.

"Mhmmm, so good to me, baby, s'good," Nina loosen her grip on Dario's tresses, letting her arms fall back onto the bed.

Dario hummed appreciatively before pressing soft kisses on Nina's inner thighs. Her fluttered when she saw the slick sheen of her nectar glistening in Dario's mustache and goatee.

"You like when I'm good to you?" Nina could feel his grip on her thighs get tighter as he spoke. When Nina nodded instead replying, Dario slapped her thigh. "Words, Nina, I wanna hear you,"

"Yes!"

"Good. You gonna be good for me this time?" Nina hissed when two of Dario's fingers found her clit, rubbing taut circles.

"Yessss, I'll be good for you, baby!"

He quickly switched his technique, he plunged his fingers into her wetness. Nina whined at the squelching and lewd noises that her pussy made as Dario stroked in and out of her. Dario bent down and gave Nina searing hot kiss, he wedged his tongue inside of Nina's mouth, allowing her to taste herself.

"Please don't stop,"

"I won't mi amor, I can feel you...you close?"

"So close, baby, please,"

Dario slowed his pace down, giving Nina slower strokes, but drove deeper, and deeper every time. Her walls fluttered around his fingers when they met her oh so sweet spot. Nina's orgasm came swiftly as a fast-moving freight train. Her mind went blank, as she screamed out in pleasure. Nina's legs jerked and spasmed as her nectar flowed out in endless droves. Dario slowly slipped his fingers out, kissing the side of Nina's face as she reveled in the planes of ecstasy.

The two fell back into the bed. Nina snuggled up close to Dario's side, her fingers still tingly, traced the ink of his half-covered up tattoo. She looked out to the balcony. It was raining.

"I think we knew each other in our past lives..." Dario trailed, he kept his eyes towards the ceiling as spoke.

"As what? Enemies?" Nina teased.

"No," He sighed deeply, turning to meet her eyes. His face was open, vulnerable, Nina felt her heart flutter. "We were...something to each other, I know it..."

For the second time this night a quietness fell over them. They stared wordlessly at one another, as the raindrops lightly pelted outside. Nina didn't know what to make of Dario's sudden confession, or revelation. She did know that the way he looked at her in this moment, made her feel all mushy and gooey inside. Nina leaned in capturing Dario's lips into a passionate kiss.

"You know what I know," Nina purred parting from Dario's lips. She straddled him, reaching for his belt buckle, this time Dario didn't stop her. "Reciprocity...Can I have some more, baby?"

"Yes. Mi amor, in every lifetime."

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair ~ In Disasters and Deceit

Chapter 24: Disasters and Deceit

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Violence, Bad language words, mentions of torture, death.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: Only a couple of chapters left!!! I am sooooo excited! Anyway hope y’all enjoy! 💕

The sky is dark by the time you and Wade make it to the area your target was last seen. He has gone a few blocks ahead to circle around in case it was a setup. You stuck to the shadows, keeping your eyes on the building the target was in.

There is a light chill in the air as spring pushes to make its appearance, to chase the winter away, your uniform keeping most of the bite of the air at a minimum and keeping you disguised in the shadows. You watch as the target exits the dilapidated building, you push off the wall following hot on his heels. 

He has his jacket collar flipped up against the bite of the wind, his dark hair pulled back into a low bun, and his appearance matches that of the fourth horseman. He’s pale, the light of the moon dancing across him, making the shadows around him dance.

You smirk, you can’t help but wonder if he is as terrifying as the underground whispers give him credit for.

Your comm beeps in your ear, ‘There is an imposter among us Death my friend. He wears a false crown, it’s time we show him who truly sits upon that throne.’

A dark smile curls your lips, “May the best Reaper win.” 

—

Wade boxes him into an alley, approaching him cautiously, “Oh pale horseman, I have a question for you…”

The male-only stares at him, his head tilting.

“If you kill death, where do they go?” Though his face is covered, he can’t help but smile to himself, this was going to be too easy—

Another voice booms down the alley, “Little Ace, you flatter yourself,” a shadow emerges from one of the alcoves, “Did you really believe one horseman would travel without the other?”

Wade’s smile fades, but quickly grows wider, “You know, I was really hoping for a challenge.”

The other shadow grows closer, the dim lighting of the alley lamp casting shadows across the large man’s face, a full beard adorned his jaw, and he carries himself with the confidence of a god. 

Good. Wade would be thrilled to knock him down from his mighty throne.

“I knew you Aces were good, but I didn’t think you were dumb enough to take on two horsemen alone.” The pale one retorts.

Wade unsheathes his weapon, the thrill and adrenaline roaring in his veins, he almost bounces in excitement. 

Your velvet voice drifts down the alley, causing a shiver to lick down his spine, “What makes you think he’s alone?”                                                                                                                                       

—

The feminine voice is smoother than silk when it reaches his ears, he spins to face its owner at the other end of the alley. Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. You stalk towards him with lethal grace, your blades already drawn.

Though his partner had been bestowed the moniker of Death, he looked as though he were a cheap imposter compared to you. Your hair and mask were so pale they glowed an eerie shade of blue in the moonlight.

In all his battles, he never once believed there was a chance he wouldn’t make it out alive, but now as your eyes locked on his, he knew his fate.

—

It's almost laughable how quickly you take the two of them down, Death and Famine were not as formidable as they would have liked to think. Famine was of no use to you, he was left in the alley as a message to the rest, as for Death, you and Wade captured the pale rider.

Now he sits strapped tightly to the metal chair in the warehouse, the moonlight filtering in, bathing him in white light. His lips were stained crimson, his head tilted back against the chair, and a whine left his lips. You grasp the back of his head, yanking it backward, “Name.” you hiss.

“Hogun.”

A wicked smile splits your lips under your mask, “Very good Hogun. You know who we are?”

He eyes your uniform, the blank white cards sparkling on your waist, then looks to Wade, “You are the dead Ace that walks amongst the living, the underground has been whispering about you, Wraith” he takes a moment to collect himself, trying to open both of his eyes, to no avail, one is already swollen shut.

You raise a brow, “Very good–”

“And he,” Hogun nods towards Wade, “is another of the Aces, by the look of him and the description the underground has, he is the Ace of hearts.” he breathes deeply, his breath shaky at best, “You know I won't talk.”

You give him a look of mock pity, “Oh, we have ways of making you talk, don't worry.” you nod to Wade giving him the go-ahead.

“With pleasure Death.”

—

Hours have passed, and Hogun has spilled little tidbits of information, but you and Wade can both tell he doesn't have much fight left in him. The two of you are surprised he has lasted even this long.

“Come now Hogun, your friends can’t help you, one of them is already fish food, and your employer will be dead soon as well. You might as well just give it up.” Wade's voice sings-songs through the warehouse. You lean back in your chair, watching as he circles Hogun like a hungry shark.

“Wade, you might as well just finish him, he no longer has any useful information for us. We can just find one of the others and make them squeal.”

“What’s the rush? I didn’t get to take my time with your parents, the least I can do is enjoy toying with you… Ms. Carbonell.”

Your eyes narrow on him, your vision turning red, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I mean I can’t take all the credit, it was a group effort really. Our boss really is the mastermind behind it all.” he laughs again. “But he didn’t account for you being the Ace of Spades.”

The realization felt like a punch to the gut, the dark hair, the stature, all he would need is a face covering and a bike. With the shitty city cameras, he could pass as Barnes easily. Your vision floods red, and you feel the impact against your knuckles, the crunch of the bones, then Wade pulls you off of him. 

He flashes you a broken grin, tossing his head trying to remove his dark hair from his face. “You know, I had my suspicions about you. None of the others believed me, not even the boss. We couldn’t understand why Rogers was still alive,” he chuckles again, “It all makes sense now, it’s sad though you know, you just had to fall in love with your target.”

You rip out of Wade's grip, yanking Hogun by his throat, “You listen very carefully, I am giving you one chance. You tell us everything and we will make it quick, otherwise…” you glance at Wade, “well, I guess we can show you…”

“Fuck you.” he snarls.

A wicked laugh falls from your lips, “God, I was hoping you’d say that.”

—

Dawn marks the end for Hogun. You and Wade no longer have the patience it requires to rip the information from him. You and Wade had taken shifts trying to extract information from Hogun, but in the end, he hadn’t given you too much, to your dismay. 

By the end of it, Hogun is breathing his last breaths, they’re shallow and ragged, and you can hear the rattling in his lungs. You kneel in front of him, “Your death will mean nothing. Even without your help, we will find your friends, and your employer too. You died for nothing—” 

You are cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket, pulling it out you check the screen, a picture of you and Steve lights up the screen with his name. You hold up your finger to Wade as you answer it. 

“Steve?”

‘Hey, Angel. Any luck?’

You sigh heavily, behind you, Wade and Hogun are exchanging words, but you can hardly make out what is being said. “None yet, but don’t worry, I’ll get the information.”

‘You might not need to, I'm about to head to your brother’s tower.’

You can hear Hogun begin laughing behind you, it starts throwing him into coughing fits. Steve continues talking, but you are only half listening as you draw closer to Hogun and Wade.

“What the fuck is so funny?!” Wade snaps, gripping Hogun by his collar, “You might want to save those breaths, you will need them.”

A malicious smile splits Hogun’s face his lips and teeth are a bright crimson, “I was never meant to survive, they knew you’d come for me.”

Your head snaps towards Wade, but something Steve says pulls your attention back, ‘Yeah, they called a meeting. All the family heads are gonna be there.’

“What?! Who called the meeting?!” You are torn, trying to listen to Steve, and Hogun simultaneously.

“Loki always was a squealer.”

Panic starts to ripple through you, “Steve?! Where are you?! Stay where you are! Do not go anywhere!”

‘Calm down Angel, Thor called it, says he caught Loki in the act.’

“No, Steve, do not go—”

‘Don’t worry— got Bucky–me. Even got — admit he —’

“Steve, wait!”  

‘–behind everything, even —your parents. —bringing him— for judgment—’ 

You strain your ears, trying to understand Steve, but the connection keeps interrupting, then the line finally dies.

You turn to look at Wade and on Hogun’s final breath, his eyes meet yours, “You can’t save them now.”

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Cancer Moons : The Depth Of The Many Oceans, & The Secrets Inside Of Them.

Cancers are delicately loved as the nurtures of the astrological spear. They can be kind, loving, and can be helpful to a persons journey if they so need it. I notice this individuals feel 'called' to do certain things for others at time because their is something deep within them that knows whatever it is they can give that person they need it right at this time.

Like all of their water placement siblings, they are connected to the to the universe and learn how to use their gifts/abilities at a young age. However, unlike their water siblings their gifts are more connected to the collective around them more than anything. Yes pisces and scorpios understand the collective, but cancers have this gift to where this may have something to do with their souls yearning. Yearning to be of help to the people around them, nurturing their wounds and giving them the blessings they need in replacement of bandaids. Their love for the community is why others are so connected to them.

Cancers have an inner knowing of what goes on around the people near them. Their main focus is family, the neighborhood, and anything closely near them. This can lead to outside of that community, but like pisces they must know when to not be everywhere at once. Because their energy can be quickly drained by individuals too.

Its like people come up to them and tell them about what their doing and then boom, cancers immediately get the gist on why they are here and focus on what they can do for people in the village.

An example would be you're at an event working and you notice a lot of people start coming to you about an issue they are having. Could be at home, the event itself, or just anything they needed to get off their chest. Talking to you is therapeutic, but theres so much more to it. As they tell you about their problems you understand that their is a root too all of this, and you get to the bottom of it. Then you come back with gifts and such to make sure the people know you heard their cries, and you wake up the waters inside of you to make sure the people become cleansed from whatever was bothering them in the first place.

Thats just the surface level, now here comes the good stuff.

Cancers and their connection to darkness is one that most do not know about. Its only as if people only care to look at the shining light they carry around them and not the other shades of who they are, kind of like when theirs a full moon and everyone notices and loves it, but completely can disregard the other phases of the moon because its 'not so perfect structure'. Cancers carry the ocean within them but not many people tend to notice it, they only see the surface level and think its okay to swim. This is when scorpios and cancers become a lot more alike to me. Because as soon as someone starts to get a little to close to their darkness, they start to run for the hills, making them guarded.

These oceanic moon babies loathe for the day when they can be who they are and show them all of the seven seas to others, they just have to find the person ready to do it.

Like the ocean, their emotions are multidimensional. So one day they can be this way, the next day another way. This causes 'confusion' in others because again, cancers normally show the surface level to people. So they're assuming thats you 100% when its not.

And let me also say that sometimes its not that cancers only show certain traits , its that some people only want to SEE does traits and nothing else. Those deep dark waters begin to get closed of from society and nobody ever gets to know the real them. Eventually, they become self-avoidant to their own darkness because anyone truly getting to see them in that light is a horror show that repels others from wanting to be around them. That lovey dovey energy is not just you. you are much more than the your light, your darkness is apart of you too.

If you were depressed they would want them to cut it off and start doing that happy/nurturing/loving their so used to seeing. Because if your not that then to people youre not a value to them.

Which is another thing I want to get into > value.

Cancers value is not in what we do and how we do it. Its when we do it from the heart thats what gives it value.

So to my cancer sun/moon/rising babies, you need to learn when to not being so giving and nurturing to others because although they may need it (as you can see it in their aura) that doesnt mean you HAVE to.

Transformers in their own right, you tend to release that shell around you that evidently makes you vulnerable to others. We get to see you for you! The Good,Bad,& The Ugly. There is nothing to be ashamed of when that shell comes off, because the real ones know that this is the time period where you have to get up and grow and allow the old to go. Youre real friends will be by your side, while the old ones will quickly wither way because youre 'too much for them'.At some point, you start to become 'cold' and leave the nurturing/loving/caring version of you too the side. Because its clear nobody really deserves it until the right person comes along. Your intensity seems to go unnoticed for a while until others realize that your ocean is much larger than that little pond they thought you were.

'Were not that little pond you can just fish in mf! Im bout to drag you down so you can see...' - Your energy is a portal to others, so when they see you is what they get. You connect to many different frequencies like your water sign sisters, so you need to learn to dissect and discern which is for you and which is someone else.

You can take on other peoples emotion as your own so cleansing rituals are definitely needed.

The main thing I want to say before I end this is , you guys are VERY connected to the energy of Lilith so I'd do as much research as I can on her.

You guys walk in her shoes and this why I always say no body knows the REAL side of cancer because if they did they wouldn't just be calling you cry baby nurturing lover children because there is sooooo much more in the core you just have to let the secret out. ;)

[rainfallbeats]

some sanitization hcs im throwing into the enclosure for yall to eat up in honor of my boy Rome being partially sanitized (also i saw that ask and i wanna throw my hat in the ring now) [note: a lot of my hcs are based off the developer fact that sanitization is based off of zombies, so tw blood mention, panic attack mention, disassociation mention, and generally darker things. also tw linking some stuff to losing a tooth, in case that bothers anyone] - sanitization causes scarring that essentially works like dead areas of your body but like. dead in the way fungi are. dead in the way viruses are - sanitization can't really spread much on its own, it needs to be fed occasionally into the host for it to really take effect - if the area on the host infected by sanitization hasnt been given it in a while, the sanitization will sort of. i want to say dry but its not really doing that? it basically becomes a scar itself, changing back to the hosts ink color over time but never really going away. it'll slowly start travelling to the beak/mouth via bloodstreams and out, basically the host's body filtering the infection out of the system as the body starts to become aware of the infection. - the sanitizer that filters out the mouth is no longer infectious at this stage since the sanitization has already "dried" and scarred, so it's not particularly dangerous - usually, the filtered sanitization will be a very thin coat across the beak that evaporates naturally (them ink-eating microbes are CHOWING DOWN) - however, if the host has more severe scarring, it will build up over time. basically turns into a tooth-bleed situation, its painful and nauseous and disorienting and everything yadda yadda. Rome's actually a solid example of this. the back of his shoulders and his hands are both infected pretty damn badly, and every few months hes spitting up a lot of sanitization like he just lost a tooth. -1/10 experience :( - anyways! fun fact: sanitization now has the funky side-effect of making your ink and subsequent sanitized scarring glow via bioluminescense!! it isnt always active. - hosts can make their entire body glow and unglow (???) if they want to, but they cant make specific parts of their body glow and heightened emotions completely throw the control out the window - with emotions, the host's body will flicker and light up in wonky ways that they cant control, for example flashing when theyre mad/threatened and softly glowing when their content. yes their blushing glows, fuck you - the host's eyes and teeth can also glow!! theyre some of the first things to light up since theyre so close to the brain. i originally did this just to look cool (tbh all of this glowing stuff started like that lol) but some sci-fi science later and boom ive actually got reasoning behind it - and when i say their body glows, i dont mean the whole thing no no no. the parts of their body that light up are: eyes, teeth, blush, tentacles, scarring, and most notably blood veins. god that would be so painful to draw but *god it would look so fucking cool omg* - moving away from that, the host will be hungrier than the average person. particularly, they need more meat than usual and require more carbs to function. for partially-sanitized hosts, this can easily be fixed with some (preferably raw) meat, poultry especially being a good one. however a completely, full-blown sanitized victim would absolutely try eating another person if not supplied with enough food - basically, they fuckin that shit up!!!! EAT EAT EAT - hosts are much more likely to get eyebags, even if they sleep relatively well. its just kinda unavoidable for them. also neat tidbit!! you know how artists will draw scared/unnerved characters with that black shading between their eyes? thats much much more literal for sanitization hosts. insert explanation about this being because theyre partially dead due to sanitization here (part 1 because this got LONG)

i have lots of longer asks like this i need to actually read through so for now ill be posting some of them to look at later

i had a sanitized octo oc so i wanna think abt sanitization stuff for when i rework him

[mitchesbitches]

Mitch and Auston - Locker Room Series

Hey everyone, welcome to my very first series! I'm gonna do a little fanfic about our two favorite boys (Auston and Mitch, duh) and how they interact both on and off the ice ;) enjoy and lmk if you have any requests or suggestions!

The locker room is bustling with activity as the Toronto Maple Leafs players prepare for their next game. Mitch Marner, a charismatic and talented forward, sits at his locker, lacing up his skates. Auston Matthews, a strong and stoic player, approaches him.

Auston smirks. "Hey, Marner, you ready for tonight?"

Mitch looks up from his skates, his eyes lighting up when he sees Auston. He flashes a mischievous grin. "Always ready, Auston. You know me."

Auston leans casually against the locker beside Mitch, his eyes never leaving Mitch's face. "Oh, I know you, alright. You're always full of surprises."

Mitch raises an eyebrow, playfully feigning innocence. "Surprises? Me? I'm just a simple hockey player, Auston. What surprises could I possibly have in store for you?"

Auston smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, let's just say your puck handling skills aren't the only thing that catches my attention."

Mitch's cheeks turn a faint shade of pink as he meets Auston's gaze, his voice lowering playfully. "Are you talking about my passing game, Auston? I've been known to make some pretty sweet assists."

Auston leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not just the assists that get me, Mitch. It's the way you move on the ice, the way you outmaneuver opponents. You have a certain... finesse."

Mitch's heart skips a beat, and he can't help but return Auston's flirtatious energy. "Finesse, huh? I guess I could say the same about you, Auston. The way you handle that stick... it's impressive."

Auston chuckles, a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad you appreciate my stick handling skills, Mitch. But let's save the compliments for after the game, shall we?"

Their eyes lock, the playful banter laden with underlying tension. The locker room noise fades away as they become lost in the moment, the chemistry between them palpable.

Mitch smirks. "Oh, definitely. After the game, I'll make sure to give you a private performance."

Auston's lips curl into a seductive smile. "I'll hold you to that, Marner."

Just as their flirty exchange reaches its peak, their coach's voice booms across the locker room, snapping them back to reality.

"Alright, boys, enough chit-chat! It's time to hit the ice!"

Mitch and Auston share a knowing look before they straighten up, ready to focus on the game ahead. But the spark of their shared moment lingers, promising much more to come.

[imeverywoman420]

do you have any tips for someone that like wants to get into make up bareee minimum to get by

-just use concealer instead of foundation and blend it really well on moisturized skin

-get a blush/highlight or contour duo and use it as intended and as eyeshadow. So easy just like put the bronzer up towards the crease and blend it and put the blush on your actual eyelid and blend if that makes sense. Also with blush make sure not to get a dark shade but SMEAR THAT SHIT ON UR FACE. I didnt realize this until 5 years into doing makeup but more blush = better. Just make sure its blended into the rest of ur face. But like. Not dark. Light orangey pink or something.

-brown eyeliner or black if u wanna do that but brown looks less stark and mascara. N dont do wings or anything just lightly line ur eyelashes to fill in the gaps of mascara.

-u can do ur eyebrows if you want but if you dont have a problem with how they look u dont gotta do nothing obviously. If u have full eyebrow hair literally just a little bit of pencil eyeliner for definition

-tinted lip balm

-probably a powder of some kind. U can just get airflash its at walmart and cvs for like $5

Boom ur done in literally less than five minutes. And thats like. I cant count but definitely less than 10 products.

I say that this is the basics bc just concealer and eyeliner washes ur face out so i think if ur gonna wear concealer and mascara anyways put on some damn blush like youre already wearing makeup… blush is a dollar at cvs. And the tinted lipbalm because sometimes the concealer gets on ur lips and erases ur lips lol. But yeah guaranteed this takes less than 5 minutes

[mlpwhatifs]

What If 1.890: Luna promoted a new brand of cheese?

Suggested by Rhonie8k!

"HUZZAH!" Luna burst through the wall of Canterlot Castle's grand dining hall. "I HAVE ACQUIRED A TASTE FOR THE LATEST IN CHEESEMAKING."

"Luna, please." Celestia facehoofed, hiding her face from the merchant she had been writing a contract with. "My apologies. My sister is an imbecile."

The merchant rubbed his chin. "The latest in cheesemaking, you say? From where have you sourced this cheese?"

Celestia groaned.

"IT COMES FROM THINE MOTHER!" Luna boomed. "THINE MOTHER IS A CHEESERY THAT HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED AMONG THE FOOTHILLS OF MOUNT CANTERHORN. THEY MAKE EXCELLENT CHEESES AND I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF THEIR EXISTENCE."

The merchant looked between Princess Luna and the half-completed trade agreement laying on the table. He then turned his gaze to Celestia, who was muttering something under her breath.

"I'm afraid I must pull out of this contract for Royal Equestrian-brand teacakes, Princess. Your sister has a far more enticing offer--Thine Mother's cheeses! I can already smell them from where I sit, and they seem simply delectable!"

"BEHOLD, THINE MOTHER CHEESERY!" Luna gestured at the cottage and its attached shop nestled beneath the shade of a towering pine. "THINE MOTHER IS SO OLD, IT IS SAID THAT THINE MOTHER EXISTED BEFORE THE INVENTION OF CHEESE."

"Excellent, excellent!" the merchant clapped his hooves. "May I request an immediate meeting with the owner of this establishment?"

"I SHALL GRANT YOU SUCH A MEETING WITH THE BIG CHEESE."

"Big... chee--"

"SALUTATIONS. WE HAVE COME TO REQUEST AN AUDIENCE WITH THE BIG CHEESE." Princess Luna kicked down the door. She gently shut it behind her to the best of her abilities.

The aging mare looked up from her comically large vat of cheese. "Oh my!" she creaked, adjusting her glasses. She leaned over the vat, almost to the point of falling into its frothing contents. "You've come back!"

The merchant's eyes grew wide. "Mother? B-but I thought, when father passed, you... but the debt!"

"PAID IN FULL WITH CHEESE." Princess Luna beamed.

"And the cheesery!" the merchant gazed about the room. "How is it that I was unaware of its existence?"

The old mare's expression grew solemn for a moment. "Your great-grandmother was the great-great-great granddaughter of the inventor of cheese, son. She passed only a few years ago, and with your grandmother having vanished in the war, I was the inheritor of this establishment. Come, sit, sit!" her mood lightened a little as she beckoned. "Tea for you, Princess?"

"A BAG OF CHEETOS SHALL SUFFICE."

The old mare turned a knob beneath the vat and stepped away. "What about you, son?" she wiped her hooves on an old rag hanging nearby before retrieving a bag of Cheetos from the pantry. "Have you heard your cousin adopted a little colt? Said that the poor lad wouldn't stop staring after she gave 'em a visit. Lucky foal, that one. 'Tis a shame that there are so many orphaned little fillies and colts still awaiting for caring eyes to come."

"Uh."

She set the Cheeto bag on the table in front of Luna, and a platter of cheese and crackers in front of the merchant. "Don't have any of those cute lil' lunch packs in store right now, but I believe making food fresh always beats the store-bought sorts."

The merchant kept his gaze low. "But... why? You didn't even like cheese. You had a whole business of your own, too! And you gave it up... for cheese?"

"Aye. Figured my travelin' days were over after the war. Still don't like cheese, but it's more bearable if it's the sort I make myself."

"I... suppose that makes sense. I do have one more question to ask, however. Through all the places I have traveled, I have met a great number of cheesemakers. Yet, none of them have ever told me where they source their ingredients. If it doesn't inconvenience you, may you please shine a light on this mystery?"

Luna slammed her Cheeto dust-covered hoof on the table, crushing the now-empty bag. "WHO GOT MILKED FOR THIS CHEESE?"

"They really refuse to speak?" the old mare snorted. Her eyes darted between her son and Princess Luna. "Follow me."

"See, the secret is, none of us really know where the milk comes from." The old mare opened a hatch in the floor behind the vat and climbed down. "But every night, a mysterious carriage comes at the witching hour, its innards filled entirely with jugs of milk. They never ask for payment. They never say a word. You take three, no more, no less."

"How come?" the merchant finally reached the bottom behind her. Luna teleported down beside him.

"They hiss if you take more, and if you take less, they will leave a jug behind regardless of your wants. There is no tunnel into this basement, nor is there any tunnel out. I do not know how they traverse."

A low rumbling began to rock the ground beneath them.

"Another delivery? At this time?" the old mare craned her neck, peering into the darkness at the end of the corridor.

A blinding flash bathed them momentarily in light, dying away again as a carriage recklessly rumbled into view. It skid to a halt in front of Luna, slamming the door open on her muzzle. The old mare reached out, taking hold of a crate--three jugs, no more and no less.

"Princess!" the merchant rushed to Luna's side, helping her to her hooves. "Wait!" he shouted as the door slammed shut again. "I must ask you a question!"

"She needs some milk!" the old mare pointed a hoof at the unconscious princess.

The carriage creaked as if a tremendous weight had shifted within. Slowly, the door began to open again. It was entirely dark within, save for a pair of narrowed eyes.

"Get away!" the old mare shouted at her son. "One should never speak to the milk-eyes!"

Luna groaned, sitting up from the impact. She immediately scrunched her muzzle. "Celly?"

The narrowed eyes froze.

"Sister, you know how much I hate that perfume you use." Luna rubbed her face, stepping around the door this time and peering deep inside.

"Wh--" the merchant shot confused glances between his mother and Luna, who continued to berate the figure in the carriage for their scent. "Wait, it was Celestia the entire time, delivering milk not only to you, but to cheesemakers all across the world?"

Celestia poked her head out from the carriage. "Yes, and if you spread the word that I am The Milkmare, then I shall have you banished to the sun."

"But why, sister?" Luna sounded equally astonished. "Do you not have other duties to attend to?"

"I did have other duties, but you keep ruining them all with your interrupting about cheese!" Celestia shot a scathing glare at her sister. "This is how I keep Equestria's trade deals intact. To ensure that we get the deal no matter what, all milk production is controlled by me personally, and delivered on a cost-free, tax-free basis to incentivize cheesemaking. All so that you don't drive this country into the ground with your rampant nagging about silly things such as microtransactions and new cheeses."

She turned her attention back to the old mare and the merchant. "I apologize for the scene I have made. I will take my leave."

The door slammed shut, hitting Luna across the face a second time as The Milkmare sped off into the darkness again before disappearing in another flash.

[nightly-ruse]

I posted 1,322 times in 2022

That's 1,322 more posts than 2021!

241 posts created (18%)

1,081 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lockandkeyhyena

@spottyissleepwalking

@fallow-foot

@cryptidclaw

@cricketchirps-stuff

I tagged 1,320 of my posts in 2022

#ruse reblogs - 985 posts

#not my art - 255 posts

#night knacks - 114 posts

#important - 96 posts

#warrior cats - 78 posts

#ruse’s warrior cats - 69 posts

#leafpool - 54 posts

#inspiration - 49 posts

#art inspo tag - 46 posts

#mothwing - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#of him. it’s sad and hard on her. she both can’t be around him bc of his relations to her mate but can’t let him go bc he’s all she has left

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Standing by my shoes a flower is blooming. Fire flowers filled the night with their booming. Maybe in the sky, I could leave behind my heart and it’s weeping. Summer days are all that I am dreaming~

A rose colored glasses Mothwing picking flowers across the river. Fireworks Beneath my Shoes is such a mothpool song I adore it so much and was listening to it on loop while drawing this- I’m sketching a anthro piece with these with moth and leaf right after I post this with this song again lol

(ID- Mothwing is standing to the left with her head looking to the camera and pretty orangy amber eye looking off to the right. Her front paw is up and a woven satchel hangs off it, small purple flowers inside it just like the ones dotting the ground under their paws. She is a peachy orange kind of color with brown down their back, mane, hair floof, and tail. A white stripes goes down from their chin, chest, and belly with a moth marking on her chest just like the one on their back which is brown instead. Willow leaves hang off her ears on two tendrils with two more bracelets of it on her tail and a lilypad on their tail. Under them is very messy windswept grass, small purple flowers dotting it and a river right at the base which her tail sweeps over. Behind them os a massive willow tree mostly just showing off its hanging leaves. Watercolor shading is across the whole piece with mostly purples, blues and pinks and over that shading is a general wash of pinks. Version without the pink overlay underneath. End ID)

See the full post

33 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

#4

Mothpool my loves<3333

I am so tired so I’m just gonna post and pass out lol but I wanted to draw them. Also changed my Leafpool design to be more Leafpool, her other eye is the same green but with blue while her left is green with orange. Cuddle cats <<3333333

(ID- Leafpool is laying down with her back against a tree, her tail curled up, and her paws around Mothwing who is cuddled into her. Leafpool is a light brown with orange markings on her cheek, nose, tail, paws, and side. Cream is on her belly, muzzle, ear tufts, tail tip, and toe tips. A darker color stripes around her pelt with a few black markings on her hair, tail tip, and back leg. She is looking down at Mothwing with a sweet amber and green eye, a small smile on her face. Mothwing is curled up on Leaf with her front leg over Leaf’s side, her other wrapped under, his tail swooping up, and his back leg curled up. She is mostly pale yellow with peach on her face, ears, and back legs. And brown is on her hair, mane, tail, back, and paws with a darker brown striped down her tail on her paws, on her back legs, on her muzzle, and on her hair tuft. Light cream is on her belly, chin, paws, and tail tip. He is sleeping with a soft expression. Grass is under them with purple flowers dotting the grass, a tree on the left, and purple shading across them with light pink highlights. End ID)

41 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

#3

Demon inspired Mapleshade for @bonefall ‘s “Better Call Mapleshade” au that I adore. She’d definitely stand out in Starclan and everyone pretty much on sight would know she’s from the DF. I think her hooves would make that clop clop clop noise as she walks and as she strolls up to the her council all the cats who don’t like her (mostly Moth Flight) all they hear is her hooves and know exactly who’s about to show up. She’s amazing and I love this design so much.

(ID- Mapleshade is standing to the left with her head slightly turned to the right and back legs sprawled out to give her a wider stance, her back front paw raised up and her tail twisting upwards. She is a cherry red kind of color with dark almost black back legs, streaks down her eyes, and on her ears. Over her face is a mask shape in a darker red that also goes down her back, and dripping down her front leg. Her fur has a very wavy almost weightless feel especially on her face and on her ears twirls in a cyclone like shape, the same as inside her ears and on her tail. Her chest, paws, tail, ear tufts, and inner ear tufts are mixes of a pink and pale almost white pink color. Her white mane twisted to make a sort of cravat shape. The end of her tail is twisted to make a spade referring back to devil tail imagery and her back paws are replaces with hooves. Her sclera are black with a flame for her pupil and the same flamey colors on her eyelashes. On the corner of her lip is a little heart beauty mark in black. Her lineart has a bright magenta over it giving into the evil feel. End ID)

Also just for Refrence Maple is HUGE especially compared to Moth Flight who is pretty short lol. She’s massive and I love her.

42 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#2

Ratatattstststtst

Knew how I wanted to draw these two so I drew Apo and Owen! Took a bit to get used to more human proportions but I like how they came out. The minute I saw parkour on Apo’s sheet I knew I had to draw him in a tree, little rat guys. Semi made to parallel eachother even tho we don’t know if they’ll be close in RatsSMP.

(Apo is the first image and is sat on a tree branch with dark spruce leaves all around him, his pink rat tail curled up to him and little rat paws holding onto the branch. He has dusty brown hair that swoops up under his rounded ears and falls over his eyes. He has a big nose and mischievous Berry colored eyes. A short red coat is over his shoulders with a blue stripes shirt under and black pants. The faint signature “Nightly Ruse” is on his tail)

(Owen is the second image and is sitting with his legs hanging over a block of wood. He has orange-ish brown eyes and a kind expression on his face, tufts on his chin and pink ears like his tail. His hair is a brown with pointier ears, a thicker rat tail, and sharper nose. Glasses are on his head with a earring pierced through his back ear. His shirt is a brick kind of red with brown on his rolled up sleeves and collar. A green cloth is wrapped his waist and a piece flies off to the right. His back arm is up in a wave with soft yellow light over him and a background of dappled leaves. The faint signature “Nightly Ruse” is on the wood block near his hand.)

46 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Gosh okay but the story of Hawkfrost being a creation of the clans still vying hatred for each other and clear aggression and how power is so easily manipulated is so good. I hate hate hate when he’s just pushed down into ‘born evil/genetic evil’ bc it’s so dumb and I hate it.

He was brought in and immediately outcast. Taken in a horrible time when Riverclan were recovering still from Tigerstar’s claws him and his sister were treated horribly. They both learned that the world isn’t fair and they had to fight for what others were born with. Hawk took this in a more aggressive way, thinking the only way he’d ever be anything was to take it while Moth worked her fur off to show she was good enough at all. He gets praise for being loyal and cruel to outsiders while shamed for holding his heritage or letting his softer side out, especially by his mentor Leopardstar. Others attention on him is like a full belly. He needs it he has to have it. So he trains to be stronger, more charismatic, smart, tougher then his brutish father who was so one sided. The only ones he could be open to were his sister and then his brother. They must be feeling the same way he was? Scrapping for sunshine? But he couldn’t leave them behind he had to get them what they wanted, high spots in the clans just beside him.

Hawk fakes the sign for Moth finally showing she was worthy of being a healer to the tough Mudfin(claw). And he sets up a plan to get Bramble as leader! Seeing his siblings and him prove everyone wrong fuels him with happiness. He’s at the lake. Standing over Firestar with a smile across his face, practically able to taste the power soon to come to his blood. But Brambleclaw won’t accept it? Why can’t he see what they can become? Hawk is angry, fueled like his heart was on fire he attacks Bramble but then it stops. A stake through the chest. Pain not from his wound but form the betrayal in his belly. He was so lost in power he fell in a fools way. He was nothing but a blinded firefly, bright but unable to see it for himself.

87 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ladyelainehilfur]

Weaktober Day 10: Incandescent

“Well, if it isn’t Jack B. Nimble.”

“Har-har.”

Jack couldn’t say he was glad to see Officer Yang, but this was a huge deal. He and Jimmy had been going up and down town, hollering and advertising at the top of their lungs about the new magic lights they’d been touting since its invention.

He and Jimmy found their current supply of lightbulbs next to the train tracks when they went “treasure hunting” (read: plundering) at night. The express was always liable to dropping boxes from unsecure cargo holds and coming upon the box of unbroken, expensive light bulbs that were probably on their way to some rich bastard’s estate was like hitting the gold mine. 

Jack would go up to an old woman struggling with her lantern and take her by the hands. “Ma’am, let me help you.” He’d take out one of the brand new incandescent light bulbs he kept in his backpack and hold it out like it was the key to world hunger. “This, right here...this will change your life.You’ll never have to sleep in the dark or look for castor oil ever again.” He’d sell one for one dollar and feel bad about not mentioning one needed electricity to use a lightbulb.

Jack was the smooth talker, the proverbial peddler selling his wares. His business partner, Jimmy, was a little more aggressive. He liked to call them “guerilla selling tactics” and Jack supposed that was the nicest term someone could coin Jimmy’s shake-down of adults who they knew had fragile egos and the overwhelming desire to be perceived as well off. Only wealthy people could afford electric lights in their house and their town had no want for posers.

The boys quickly gained a reputation for constantly promoting their merchandise. Officer Yang was particular to calling Jack, Be Nimble. “You know what, Jack? You and your buddy with the damn light bulbs remind me of that poem.” 

Jack knew the one. Jack, be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick. Then the Constable shortened that to Jack “B.” Nimble and very frankly, Jack felt like punching the man every time he heard it.

Now, Constable Oscar Yang was extremely old fashioned. Was a general in the war, donned a top hat to work, believed electricity was witchcraft. The whole nine yards. Jimmy and Jack would’ve ignored him in favor of easier clients, but Officer Yang held a special sort of power: people actually listened to him. If they convinced him to install the lightbulbs in his station, business would boom and he and Jimmy could finally move out of that rink dink town. They were halfway there; during Officer Yang’s vacation to the countryside, the town council voted to “improve” his police station and install electrical circuits as a point of community pride. Jack didn’t see the point of impressing the highway criminals that regularly came through, but that was neither here nor there.

“I told you boys, I don’t want your glowing bauble,” Officer Yang said, yawning as he thumbed through his crossword book. It was sunny and warm in the small personal office to the side of the station. He looked up when he noticed Jack and Jimmy hadn’t moved. “Hey. I said scram.”

Jack fiddled with his hands, nerve wracked. “Just hear us out one last time,” he started. “One demonstration is all we ask.”

Officer Yang didn’t smile, but he didn’t kick them out either. Jimmy exchanged a smug look with Jack before setting his suitcase up on one of the tables and opening it, revealing a small table-top lamp. “Do you have an electrical plug, Constable?”

Officer Yang grunted and pointed in the general direction of a spot behind his desk. Taking the full opportunity for visual spectacle, Jimmy moved the lamp right in front of the constable, where he could see the intricate designs on the shade and the fine wood-working on the base. Small-town folk were enchanted by finer things. The lamp had cost Jimmy a small fortune, but he’d told Jack not to worry about it. They’d make back their investment in no time.

Jack quickly rushed with the set up, producing a lightbulb from his knapsack and carefully screwing it in place. He closed the office’s blinds, shutting out outside light and giving Jimmy a thumbs up, ready to go. Jimmy plugged in the lamp and picked up the oil lantern on Officer Yang’s desk, ignoring the constable’s protest and blowing out the lone flame of fire inside. The room went dark.

Jack crossed his fingers behind his back and turned the knob on the lamp.

At first, nothing happened. The room remained pitch black and Officer Yang snickered. “Nice try, boys. Now kindly take your contraption and lea--”

Fwish.

Light suddenly flooded the vicinity and all three men in the room squinted at the harsh change in illumination. The lamp made an audible crackle, and for the shortest moment, Jack was afraid the lightbulb would explode.

But not even seconds later, Officer Yang was leaning in and staring at the glass globe, eyes wide at the yellow, glowing filament inside. His mouth was slightly open and Jack could see the reflection of the electricity in his eyes. “Would you look at that,” he said softly. 

Jack looked over at Jimmy and grinned, knowing they had him on the hook. They were gonna leave that town and they were never coming back. 

[okokshop]

Brown Eye Poem



Brown eyes, a window to the soul A shade so rich, it takes control Of all who see, with just one gaze And leaves them breathless, in a daze

A depth so warm, like melted caramel A hue that brings a smile, oh so well A sparkle of life, in each small fleck A glimmer of joy, that one cannot check

They say the eyes, are the mirror of the heart And in these brown eyes, a love doth start For all who see, a flame ignites And with its warmth, their hearts unite

Oh, how these eyes, can light up a room With laughter and love, their brightness will boom A gaze that's gentle, yet holds so much power In its depths, all our worries will cower

So here's to brown eyes, a treasure rare A look that's gentle, yet full of care A window to the soul, that shines so bright Bringing joy and laughter, day and night

[storms-path]

Day 8 - Tepid

A sequel to this prompt from last year. Check it out if you want context.

How in the seven hells do I explain this?

Arashi and Lyse were sat at their table, eating a simple breakfast of dried fruits. Well, Lyse was eating. Arashi was looking awkwardly at her mirror image and the young elezen child, who both stared at her with a gaze that urged her to break the silence by any means necessary. None of them wanted to do this, but Arashi had promised Lyse an explanation. Truth be told, she’d hoped her wife might forget about it. Unfortunately for Arashi, she had not.

Alas, Lyse had remembered perfectly well the confusing encounter of the night before, and had promptly reminded Arashi. With a little bartering Arashi had managed to stall until breakfast, but now her soul crystal was laid bare on the table, and with it her… other halves. The silence stretched on, broken only by Lyse’s determined chewing and the occasional cough from Fray and Myste.

Finally, with a tone light enough that she might have been discussing the weather, Lyse shattered the ice with, “So, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Her gaze was fixed pointedly at Arashi, who really, desperately wanted to be literally anywhere else at that present moment. Even battling Zenos would be preferable. But a promise was a promise, so…

“This is Fray. And this is Myste.” The pair nodded politely in turn. “And they… are me. Sort of. I think.” Thank goodness Ardbert wasn’t feeling talkative, or this would have been even more unbearable. Lyse simply cocked her head, clearly confused.

With a deep, heavy sigh, Arashi began to explain. About the soul crystal, about her teacher, about Sid and Rielle and all the things she had kept secret from even her own sister. And quietly, patiently, Lyse listened without a word. Minus the odd glare sent Fray and Myste’s way after learning of their… incidents. Myste at least had the tact to look guilty. Fray merely returned Lyse’s stare, her mirror-image face devoid of any tells. But Arashi could feel the tension through the crystal, could see it in the tensing of her other self’s muscles. They all loved Lyse, after all. It was half the reason they’d agreed to keep their fractured, mended soul secret.

Finally, Arashi was done, suddenly feeling somewhat lighter despite everything. At least it’s out in the open now. The silence swept in once again as soon as Arashi finished, acting as if it had never left. Even the noises outside the open window felt more muted than usual, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Then Lyse responded.

“Oh. Is that all? Well, that’s fine then.”

Arashi, Fray and Myste exchanged incredulous looks. Was that all?! Was the multi-aspected nature of her wife’s very essence not good enough?! Then they caught Lyse’s slow smile spreading across her lips, knew the laugh was coming but could do nothing to stop it. It began as a soft, small thing, but it grew and grew until it was filling the room, booming and raucous and full of ever-accepting love. When Lyse turned to Arashi, it was with the warmest smile she had ever known.

“I mean, what difference does it make, right? You’re still you, no matter how many of you there are. So long as both of you,” she pointed at Fray and Myste, somehow managing to startle them both, “Don’t go trying to bodysnatch, or memory-wipe, or possess my wife. You got that?” Lyse punctuated her question by cracking her knuckles. Myste responded by hiding behind Fray’s robes, who had turned a subtle shade paler.

“I speak for us all when I say that we are well beyond such things.” Fray’s response was surprisingly calm, considering the turmoil boiling through the shared connection of the crystal. Arashi could swear she could see the stone starting to smoke against the table. “We will fight the oncoming storm together, as one. This we swear.”

This was enough to satisfy Lyse, who simply nodded. “Good!” Then she pushed the bowl of dried fruits towards Fray, smiling sweetly. “So, who’s hungry?”

Arashi was about to respond that Fray was a being of manifest aether and therefore wouldn’t be able to eat when Fray daintily picked up a raisin and popped it into her mouth. With slow, deliberate chewing Fray devoured the meal, keeping eye contact with Arashi the entire time. With a purposeful swallow the raisin was gone, but disconcertingly enough Arashi could feel it sliding down her gullet, not Fray’s. Bastard.

The rest of the conversation was a much breezier affair after that.

[sciencestyled]

Quantum Quirks: When Art Collides with Particle Physics, Hold Onto Your Atoms!

Ladies and gentlemen, buckle up your seatbelts and prepare your atoms for a delightful tumble into the rabbit hole where quantum physics meets art in a splashy spectacle of uncertainty! Yes, we're talking about Quantum Art—no ordinary brush and palette affair, but a mad scientist's dream smeared across the canvas of reality.

Imagine if Picasso had a baby with Schrödinger's cat, and they decided to throw a party in a particle accelerator. That’s Quantum Art for you, a genre that grabs the esoteric innards of quantum physics and splashes them onto a canvas in a way that would make both Einstein and Warhol drop their pipes and paintbrushes in awe.

First up, let’s talk about superposition. In the quantum world, it’s the art of being in multiple places at once—kind of like when you can't decide if you’re going to channel surf or scroll through memes, and end up doing a bit of both. Quantum artists take this concept and run wild. They create pieces that are simultaneously everything and nothing, existing in a state of flux until you look at them. Then, boom! The art decides what it wants to be, much like how your grandmother decides to use emojis in texts—it might make sense, it might not, but it sure as heck is entertaining.

Then there’s entanglement, a love story more complex than any soap opera. Two particles, intimately linked across space and time, like distant lovers forever connected by the invisible strings of fate. Artists mimic this in installations that change based on where you stand, who you’re with, or even the latest trending tweet. It’s like that one episode of "Game of Thrones" where everything's connected, but here, you might move to the left and suddenly the sculpture starts gossiping about quantum mechanics!

And who could forget about quantum tunneling? This cheeky trick lets particles zip through walls like ghostly apparitions. Quantum artists harness this by creating art that seems to vanish before your eyes, only to reappear in another form. It’s the ultimate magic trick, but instead of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, they’re pulling realities out of the quantum void.

Now, let’s dial up the absurdity and picture a gallery opening for this avant-garde art form. You step into the room, and it’s as if you’ve walked into a meme-fest, where the laws of physics are being roasted on an open fire of artistic rebellion. Each piece is a playful poke at the stiff upper lip of classical art and a nudge-nudge, wink-wink to the geeks trying to track the position of an electron.

Interactive pieces? Oh, you bet! There's a painting that literally watches you back, shifting its mood based on how you react. Smile, and it may smile back. Frown, and watch it throw quantum shade faster than a Twitter feud. It's like those weird TikTok challenges where everyone tries not to laugh, except it’s the art that's trying to crack you up.

But it's not just about making the gallery-goers chuckle. Quantum Art is a full-frontal assault on the senses, a chaotic blend of art and science that asks, "What if?" and answers with a mischievous, "Why not?" It’s about pushing boundaries, both of our understanding and of what art can be. It’s an invitation to explore a universe where creativity and curiosity are entangled in a dazzling display of lights, colors, and impossible possibilities.

Let’s not forget the shock value. Oh, the drama! Each artwork is a cliffhanger episode, leaving you guessing, gasping, and giggling at the sheer audacity. Imagine a sculpture that's both a shimmering vortex and a serene pond, depending on how you squint. Or a digital art piece that evolves with the stock market—bullish patterns swirl in vibrant greens, bearish plunges are stark, moody blues.

In the grand theater of quantum art, every piece is a player on the stage of the absurd, where art doesn’t just imitate life—it imitates the universe. It's like jazz, but instead of notes, we're playing with the fundamental particles of existence. And in this bizarre, wacky concert, everyone—from the hip teens to the savvy octogenarians—gets a front-row seat to the spectacle.

In conclusion, Quantum Art isn’t just a genre; it’s a rollicking, roller-coaster ride through the quirkiest corners of creativity and science. It challenges perceptions, bends reality, and, most importantly, it serves up a hearty slice of cosmic comedy. So next time you gaze upon a piece of Quantum Art, remember: the universe is laughing with you, not at you. Or maybe it’s doing both—after all, in the quantum realm, anything is hilariously possible.

[musicarenagh]

"In Her Hand" - A Knockout Anthem Rock Royal by Ramener You know that feeling when the universe of moshing melodies, kickass rock vibes and feels collide? Boom – you get a banger like “In Her Hand” by this rising storm of a band, Ramener. Now these guys are three blokes from Long Island – Michael Dibella banging out drums and lead vocals, Richie Pacella shreddin' it on the lead guitar while doubling up with vocals and Ricardo Diaz rockin' as the bassist. Together they whip up some class-A melodic badassery filled with full-blown passion, heart-wrenching love stories and your adrenaline-launching guitar licks. https://open.spotify.com/track/0GdppXJJOI578rih2876GH Their single kicks off with an energy that's gonna pull you in whether you're prepared or not. The rhythm? Solid as a rock. Nothing fancy, no show-off here- just perfect support to crank up Dibella's kick-ass voice. He rides the wave like he was born atop it - his voice mingling with savage drumbeats getting your bones singing along with them. “In Her Hand” holds tight onto classic rock roots while pushing forward with a metal edge that brings back misses of Metallica or maybe even Megadeth vibes. But hang on - Ramener ain't copycats here. They've mushed all influences into their own recipe - forcing together raw metallic chords into melodious choppy notes packing punches of solos and ground-shaking vocals. [caption id="attachment_52049" align="alignnone" width="843"] "In Her Hand" - A Knockout Anthem Rock Royal by Ramener[/caption] The song carries this undercurrent of emotional depth right beneath its pumped-up surface, making storytelling sound like tuning a guitar string. Through their lyrics, image crafters unfold an intense tangle of love thrown in life's cruel wrestle hold - every phrase pouring out desperate tones echoing sad acceptance vibes. Tossed on top is this dank edge of hopeless surrender - crunching more flavor into already meaty music magic. “In Her Hand” really spells out what rock can be when it keeps its high-energy pulse while dabbling with all shades of emotional fireworks. Ramener turns their life noise into sonic landscapes that yank at our heartstrings while rockin' our worlds. You can tell they're new guys on the block, but they wear their sound as if etched in their bones - promising futures brighter than strobe lights. So, if you've been itching for a dose of raw, unstoppable rock majesty that isn't shy about feels'n'chills along with getting your nerves jazzed up - turn your volume knob onto “In Her Hand”. This is more than some catchy number - it speaks volumes about Ramener's fire and sheer grit wrapped up in an anthem. Man, it practically waves a flag saying 'we're here to live our dreams big'. One listen and you'll trust me - these guys are gonna be big hits. Keep 'em on your radars, rock-heads – mark my words! Follow the group on Facebook, YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

[maccreadysbaby]

Ezra to the End of the Earth (and Back Again)

tw : none

full chapter masterlist

part two

❝ SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK ❞

December 18, 2022

— EZRA SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY ON HIS MATTRESS, FURROWING HIS BROW WHEN HE REALIZED IT DIDN’T FEEL LIKE A MATTRESS AT ALL. It felt… hard. And small things were poking him in the back and head.

The first thing he saw when he peeled his eyes open were massive, blue, glowing trees looming over his head. Deep blue trunks, glowing blue leaves, and something orange shining up in the heights.

As soon as he comprehended what he was looking at, he blinked, staggering to his feet. A warm summer breeze kissed at his skin, and the dark, velvety black sky above him was peppered with glittering stars that twinkled brightly through the canopy of the trees. The grass beneath his tennis shoes was bright green. Only the healthiest grass was ever able to reach that shade, but here, the entire forest was coated in it.

“N… Nikolai?” He looked around for his best friend, but the glowing forest seemed vacant. Glancing up into the trees again, he caught sight of orange fruit hanging from the higher branches, reflecting the light from the leaves like spilled gasoline on a parking lot. The breeze came and blew his hair out of his face.

“Ezra!”

He whipped around at the sound of Nikolai’s voice. In the distance, something black and yellow was swirling in the air, spinning, growing — volatile. Glowing a bright honey gold. It almost looked like a giant ball of yarn whose strands were being forced apart. He could hear it whipping and gusting from where he was, and could’ve swore it almost sounded like… tons of overlapping voices. But one was sticking out amongst the rest.

“Ezra, help!”

He broke into a sprint toward the yellow and black mass that was spinning in the middle of the forest — that’s where the voice was coming from.

He skidded to a stop in front of the thing that was whirling and whistling in his face. It felt like it was creating its own wind, jerking his hair around in all different directions and tugging at his black t-shirt. “Nikolai?!”

“Ezra, get me out of here! I can’t see anything!”

Ezra moved as close to the mass as he dared, his heartbeat rising in his ears. “Where are you?!”

The black and yellow cloud suddenly doubled in size, and inside of the swirling, volatile mess, Nikolai was suspended in the air by yellow strands. They were attached to his wrists, his ankles, his torso, even his throat, holding him up off the ground. He wasn’t in the forest — he was in a big, black void of nothingness, and Ezra was peering through the mass like a window. The strands seemed to be materializing from nowhere. Nikolai’s eyes widened when he spotted Ezra, and immediately began to water.

“Ezra, help me!” He shouted. More of the glowing strands surged out of the darkness, looping around his head and covering his mouth so he couldn’t speak. He was fighting, struggling against all of the threads. He couldn’t get free.

“Nikolai!” Ezra reached forward but the mass boomed, sending out a shockwave so powerful he was knocked off his feet. He slammed into a nearby blue tree and crumpled to the forest floor, a sharp wave of pain reverberating through his bones. He heard Nikolai’s muffled attempts at yelling for him.

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, coughing lightly. Looking back up at the mass in the middle of the glowing forest, he could see Nikolai through the spaces between threads. More and more of those strands were creeping around him like he was being cocooned. Ezra pushed himself off the ground with a small grunt, jogging back toward it.

“Nikolai, no!” He shouted hoarsely, his entire torso throbbing with pain from hitting the tree so hard. He scrambled ever closer to the mass, but he was too late. The strands covered Nikolai completely and drew him upwards, thrashing, into darkness.

“No!”

Ezra lunged for him again, but another shockwave was sent out and he was thrown across the forest. And as soon as he hit the ground-

He jerked straight up in his bed, gasping for air like there wasn’t enough in the room. His fists were balled around the sheets beneath him, his knuckles cracking under the force. His dull green eyes flicked around the room wildly. He stole a glance to the starry sky outside the window, blinking a few times in an attempt to ground himself. To make his heart stop beating so fast.

Nikolai shifted in the bed beside him. “Ezra?”

He didn’t reply, forcing all of his fatigued willpower into slowing down his breathing. His hands were shaking from how hard he was clutching the blankets.

“Ezra?” Nikolai moved again, sitting up in his peripheral. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream,” Was all he mumbled.

“Seems like it. You’re soaked in sweat,” Nikolai replied. Ezra glanced down at his gray t-shirt, cringing at the dampened stains on the front. “You okay now?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, throwing the comforter off and rising from the bed. The clock on his nightstand read 4:27am. Nikolai nodded in acknowledgement, plopping back down on his pillow.

Ezra made for the bathroom, flicking on the light and blinking as his eyes adjusted. He stole a quick glance in the mirror and made a feeble little sound, nearly choking on air when he caught his reflection staring back at him.

It was only a split second between blinks that he saw his irises glowing a bright honey gold.

“Ezra? What was that noise?”

He shook his head, blinking rapidly to clear his mind. There was no way he’d actually seen that, right? His mind was just playing tricks on him because of the dream. It had to be. At least that’s what he was telling himself as he stared intently into his own eyes in the mirror, raking his pupils over every single shade of green present. None of them were close to yellow. His fuzzy black hair was black and fuzzy, his pasty skin was pasty, his green eyes were green and there was nothing out of the ordinary about him.

He flinched when Nikolai’s voice was suddenly right in the doorway of the bathroom: “Was your dream that bad? You look like you’re about to barf.”

He replied by exhaling a heavy breath, raking both hands through his hair and resting his forehead on the cool countertop.

“It’s fine, go back to sleep,”

“It doesn’t look fine. Your hands are still shaking,” Nikolai replied, his tired brown eyes hovering over Ezra worriedly.  

“My mind was just playing tricks on me. I’m okay,” He stated. The cool marble felt nice on his forehead and he didn’t move for a few moments, in a feeble attempt to get his adrenaline to slow enough for him to go back to sleep.

Nikolai shifted his weight awkwardly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dude, I’m sure. Go back to bed. We have to be up in, like, two hours,”

“What about you?”

Ezra sat up again, rubbing a hand across his face. “I’ll be back in a minute, go ahead.”

Nikolai disappeared back into the bedroom with a soft sigh, and Ezra heard him climb back into the bed. 

Releasing a deep breath, Ezra took a good long look at himself in the mirror. His eyes were green, he reminded himself.

His eyes were green.

-

For the rest of the night, sleep came in short bursts. He merely laid there on the mattress, staring at the clock, watching the minutes tick away. There were very few times he was able to drift off, all plagued with dreams of nothing but his own face — pale skin, black hair, and yellow, glowing eyes. The whistles and whispers of the black and honey gold thing in the woods drew him out of his sleep every chance it got.

It wasn’t even that bad of a dream, he kept telling himself. More weird than scary. The dream itself wasn’t the problem, he figured, but the botched reflection he saw in the mirror. How could one hallucinated reflection screw up his night so badly? All the things he’d heard of that had yellow eyes didn’t exist — Werewolves, Hellhounds, Pyromania Prone Supervillains. He was none of those things. His eyes were green.

His mind disagreed.

When his alarm went off and he pulled himself out of bed, he spent the better half of his time in the shower looking at his reflection in the glass. His head was already starting to throb from his lack of sleep. Something that happened often nowadays thanks to a certain someone who liked to climb through his window and pass out in his kitchen at all hours of the morning. 

By the time he and Nikolai were making their way downstairs in their mandatory school uniforms, he’d managed to fall back asleep on four different occasions. His headache made him hyper aware of how bright the bottom floor of the house really was with the sun shining through. Everything was white and pristine and it hurt his eyes.

When they made it to the bottom of the stairs, the smell of bacon whacked him in the face, and it only made everything worse.

“Ezraaa!” His father’s fatigue-laced voice sounded from the kitchen. There was a metallic thud, and a small “Ow.” That came after it.

Ezra and Nikolai rounded the corner into the kitchen, and the green-eyed boy purposefully kept his eyes from the mirror that hung in the living room, taunting him.

Ezra’s father was in a big grey t-shirt, sporting some blue striped pajama pants. His short blonde hair was bedraggled, green eyes tired but still lively, as always. He was at the stove. “Morning, sleep deprived gremlin. And you, Nikolai.”

“Morning, Mister D,” Nikolai replied cheerfully. The two of them slid onto the same two stools they’d inhabited the night before, right across from Ezra’s father, who scanned his son skeptically and scratched at his short, scruffy facial hair.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say Ez is running on about twenty minutes of sleep, huh?”

Ezra snickered, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his hand. “What gave you that impression?”

“Not sure, maybe it’s the designer sized bags under your eyes…” He stated, shoving scrambled eggs around in the pan he was watching. “Or the fact that your shirts on backwards.”

Nikolai bursted into laughter as Ezra glanced down at his mandatory button up. No wonder the collar felt so weird — it was in the back, along with all the buttons.

He glared over at Nikolai, who was still bubbling with laughter. “You let me come down like this?”

“It’s just your dad,” He snickered. “I thought it was funny you even managed to button it behind you without realizing.”

Ezra shook his head, rising from the stool and wandering toward the living room, where the guest bathroom was. He didn’t make an effort to close the door, but he did make a rather valiant attempt not to look at himself in the mirror. Nikolai and Ezra’s father’s voices still reached him as he was fixing his shirt.

“-Yeah, he had a nightmare last night. Seemed pretty bad. I don’t think he actually went back to sleep,” Nikolai’s voice bounced around the house. Ezra turned his shirt the right way around with a small sigh.

“He tell you what it was about?”

“Nope. He was really shaken up, though. I thought he was gonna barf,”

Ezra re-tied his tie and slid his blazer back on, flinching when he accidentally caught himself in the mirror. He looked normal. Normal apart from the pasty, haven’t-slept-in-a-month look he was sporting. He’d managed to tame his unruly black fuzz into something presentable, and it looked nice with his black blazer, white button-up, and black and silver striped tie. His eyes were green.

With a small huff, he walked back out into the living room, retreating to the island stool next to Nikolai.

“There he is!” His father exclaimed with a bright smile. He was just plating the eggs and bacon when Ezra returned, sliding a plate in front of both boys. 

Despite the headache that was only getting worse, Ezra made himself eat it. Nikolai and his father blabbed on and on about whatever they found fit, occasionally asking Ezra to weigh in. Thankfully they were content with nods and short answers.

Soon, the clock struck seven, and it was go-time.

Nikolai ran back upstairs to get his backpack from Ezra’s room.  His father hurried off to put on a button up, but keep his pajama pants on because ‘who’s gonna look down in the car at my pants?’ Nonetheless, Ezra was left scraping the remnants of their breakfast into the trash can and shoving the dishes in the dishwasher. It wasn’t long before both Nikolai and Ezra’s father came running back to the kitchen, where the garage door was, one in a button-up and pajama pants, the other a school-certified sweater vest that was looked about five sizes too big. He’d probably grabbed Ezra’s in the dark this morning.

“Okay, everybody, the late ship has already sailed. Go to the car!” Ezra’s father announced. “Nikolai, breakfast bolus check!”

“Did it!” He shouted back.

Nikolai bee-lined to the left of the kitchen where the door to the garage was, undoubtedly snagging the passengers seat. Ezra didn’t even bother to race him for it. Instead, he stopped at the bench next to the door to put his shoes on and grab his backpack. He jumped a mile when a cold hand suddenly landed on his forehead.

“You feelin’ okay, Ez?” His father questioned. “You’re being real quiet.”

Ezra glanced over at his dad. His green eyes were softer now, more serious and caring than they had been all morning. 

“Yeah. Just have a headache and tired, that’s all,” He stated, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulders.

“Nikolai said you didn’t sleep well last night,”

“When do I ever sleep well?” He snickered. His father smiled sadly. 

“You know you can stay home if you need to rest, right?”

Ezra shifted his weight from his heels to his toes. “I’m okay. Don’t need to miss AP anyways. I’ve pulled all-nighters with Nikolai before and was fine at school.”

His father nodded, ruffling his hair. “Alright. Just remember I’ll always come get you if you need.”

Ezra snickered. “I might take you up on that before my next history test.”

His father shoved his head to the side with a scoff, and Ezra chuckled. 

He wouldn’t sleep in class, anyways. Not if he always saw himself with yellow eyes.