#do I turn him into a stand? a magnet? or add him to a canvas backdrop?

[keenobservationsuit]

Trimax hair won in a massive landslide. Honestly, I’m just surprised by how many ppl actually voted. Anyways without further ado, here’s the set result!

I love him =3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Robots and Renoir

Part Two of Magnetic

Previously - Pressing Camera Questions |  Magnetic Masterlist | Dynamic

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Warnings: Cursing; alcohol consumption; Chapters will eventually have explicit sexual content Notes: Thanks for the encouragement on the first chapter you guys!! I really appreciate it 🥰 Summary: “Don’t mind her.” You didn’t even realize you had been minding her - but maybe Nathan’s noticed the way you seem to go tense whenever Kyoko’s around. 

“You get lost?”

It’s a fair question. It’s only your second time visiting the research facility, and you’re still acclimating. The place is massive, and you have got an office of your own there - but you’ve made yourself a cup of coffee and found your way back to a lounge that you’d stumbled on the first time you’d visited.

“No,” You look up from your phone and raise it, waving it a little, “Just doing some housekeeping.” You lower your eyes back to your phone, and Nathan turns to go. Before he can, though, you can’t help but pry: “...You never struck me as someone that might be a fan of Impressionism.”

Nathan turns back, looks at the painting opposite you as you add, “Or are you more interested in the process than the school of thought that a work comes from?” “The process,” Nathan confirms, and you feel him glance at you as he asks, “Are you a fan of Renoir?” You shrug. “Not particularly.” “You know enough to recognize it.” “I had a mandatory art history course in college. Some stuff never left me.” You let your eyes raise back to the painting, taking in the arrays of greens, the dotting of red and white and yellow flowers. “It is calming, though.” -- “Don’t mind her.” You didn’t even realize you had been minding her - but maybe Nathan’s noticed the way you seem to go tense whenever Kyoko’s around. You weren’t introduced to her the last time you were there, even when she was in the room. She’d been referenced to like she was another piece of furniture; Nathan had waved a hand in her direction, mentioned that she helped out, wasn’t chatty. So now you nod a little, doing your best to heed Nathan’s direction. “Okay,” You agree, and then, playing a hunch that’s been nagging you since that first weekend, “Prototype?” You don’t look away from the peppers that you’re chopping as you ask, but you feel Nathan still beside you. “Come again?” You lift your head for just a second to look between where Kyoko has continued her task and where Nathan has stopped his. “Kyoko,” You nod toward her before looking back down at the cutting board, “Is she a prototype?” “...What makes you say that?” “Uhhh,” You’re regretting saying anything at all, because Nathan is shutting off the sink and turning his entire body to face you, his arms folding across his chest just as you seem to have swallowed your tongue, “You’re-- I mean, the last time I was here, you said she just helped you out, but… I don’t know, that seems like a massive hole in your security. She could still leak whatever you’re working on to someone, regardless of whether or not she knows what it is. I mean from what I’ve learned, half of Blue Book’s tech relies on closed systems to keep viruses out of the hardware and I guess I kinda just...Thought of this facility the same way. I guess it just seemed too lax for your security standards. Am I off? I’m off, huh. Forget I said anything,” You rush to add, shaking your head. There are a couple of beats of quiet before Nathan points out, “You’re here, does that count as lax?” “I don’t have access to the entire facility and the NDA I’m under is airtight-- And if I were leaking any trade secrets, you’d know by now. Plus I’d make, like, the world’s worst spy.” Nathan’s still staring at you, and you’ve never focused so hard on chopping anything in your life. It’s another few moments before you hear Nathan turn the tap on again, and you’re aware of just how hard your heart is pounding in your chest. “...Do you think an AI could paint a masterpiece?” You find yourself asking to distract from the litany to stupid things you’ve just said. “Depends,” Nathan’s tone is crisp, but curious; he doesn’t sound like he’s mad or just humoring you, you think this might actually turn into a conversation, “Do you mean recreations or works of their own?” “Works of their own.” “And how do you define masterpiece?” That conversation is enough to take you two through dinner, and you think you might, might be out of the woods with that whole Kyoko thing. But then dinner is finished and the conversation isn’t, and Nathan is waving you out of the dining area, into another lounge. And he’s watching you expectantly, but you’re… Underwhelmed. “Come on. You can’t hate this,” He sounds almost irritated. You’d briefly tried to fake enthusiasm for something your first weekend there -- Nathan had seen right through it. Say what you will about the man, but he understands people - which is probably why he’s at the cutting edge of AI. So now you just stand with one arm folded across your middle, a beer in your other hand as you blink at the Jackson Pollack on Nathan’s wall. “I wouldn’t use the word hate,” You say carefully, “I… Do not…Like it, though. Look, if you’re going to give me the option to check my emails here or in the lounge from this morning,” You nod over your shoulder, toward the room down the hall where Nathan’s Renoir sits, “I’m going to pick the Renoir. I feel like a robot could sooner recreate this than a Renoir. This feels so static-- that just… It breathes.” And shit, Nathan is staring at you the way he was in the kitchen. You’re not sure what the look is, exactly - you haven’t been around him long enough, but there’s something calculating about it. He finally says, “Kyoko would have an easier time reproducing a Renoir. Pollack deliberately let his mind go blank when he was working. Impressionists were employing new techniques, but they had a base-- a reference. Pollack didn’t.” You take that in. “...Are you fucking with me?” Nathan shakes his head and turns back toward the painting. You do, too. “Your instincts are there,” He says, “But the application…” He raises a hand and wavers it back and forth. “Needs work?” He grunts, and then leaves without another word. You stay put, and your mind feels as static as the canvas in front of you.

Tag List: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @captn-andor ; @witchyavenger  ; @writingletterstothefire  ; @massivecolorspygiant  ; @waatermelon-sugaar  ; @paintballkid711 ; @angels-pie ; @codenamewife ; @aellynera  ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @revolution-starter ; @foxilayde​ ; @jitterbugs927​ 

[petertingle-yipyip]

Right Here, Right Now - Klaus Mikaelson Pt. 2

//Requested by @kollover24 : More please! Tag me when you do// //Are you going to continue right here right now with klaus ?//

//Warnings: Nothing. Maybe language. Pairings: Klaus x Reader//

//Part One//

"So, how are you feeling?" Cami asked, bringing you a cup of coffee as she sat next to you. "How are you handling the break up? It’s been, what, three weeks?"

“It’s been tough.” You sighed, holding the warm mug in your hands. “I miss Dean like crazy but he hasn’t been texting as much so at least there’s that. It gets a little easier everyday but it still takes some effort to not think about him.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She said softly. “Has being here helped any?”

“It has.” You smiled slightly. “New Orleans has always been home, y’know? So being back here, with you, it feels right.”

“And I noticed you’ve been hanging out with Klaus..” She trailed off, her eyebrows dancing in suggestion. “How’s that?”

You threw your head back to let out a laugh. “It’s been fun, not gonna lie to you. Klaus is supposed to be this big, bad, scary legend but he’s a really good guy deep down.”

“Yeah, he is a loose cannon though.” She said carefully. “I was his therapist for a while and when he wanted to write a memoir, he came to me to write whatever he was spewing. I know him pretty well so I’m just saying that you need to be careful.”

“Thank you for your concern, Cousin. I appreciate it. But I can handle it.” You smiled softly. “Besides, I’m not necessarily looking to jump back into a relationship. Klaus is a good friend. He helps me heal, as strange as it may sound.”

“I can see that he helps you.” She said softly. “Just... Don’t let yourself get into something your heart can’t handle.” She said carefully.

“I promise. I’ll be careful.” You nodded.

That conversation happened with Camille about three weeks ago. Now, you were walking down the streets of New Orleans to the Mikaelson home where you would spend the day with Klaus. He had asked you that morning if you wanted to spend the day with him. He said there was nothing major planned, mainly to be his muse for a painting he wanted to finish.

When you entered the compound, you said a small welcome to Elijah and Rebekah as you walked by and made your way to Klaus’ room. He was standing with his back to the open doorway. He had a drink in hand and was mumbling to himself while he stared at the blank canvas.

“What colors? What colors?” He asked himself repeatedly. “Well, she is a vibrant personality so maybe nice greens and blues for the background... Or should I just add whatever is actually behind her? No, that’ll be too busy. Her beauty will be overshadowed by the commotion. I know what I’ll do.” He said his last sentence suddenly, a true eureka moment.

“Hey.” You smiled and entered once his train of thought was complete. “I see you’ve already started.”

He turned and laughed slightly, opening his mouth to say something before shaking his head. “Would you like a drink?” He offered, a grin still plastered to his face.

“I would love one.” You nodded happily. “What do you need from me as your muse?” You teased as you dropped on the bed dramatically. You held your hand up until Klaus put the cup in your palm.

“All you need to do is inspire me.” He shrugged, wandering the room. “Make me want to create!”

“And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you pushed yourself up to rest on your elbows.

“Well, sitting up would be a good start.” He mumbled with a small eye roll.

“Ouch.” You feigned hurt as you pushed yourself to sit against the headboard. “No need to be sarcastic, Klaus.”

“Tell me, Love. What inspires you?” He asked, his back facing you as he rearranged his canvas. He spun the easel and all his materials so he could face you as he worked.

“I’m not an artist, in any form of the word.” You laughed. He peaked around the side of the canvas, a small smirk toying on his lips.

“You don’t need to be an artist to be inspired.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Anything can be inspired, whether it be your choice of clothes in the morning or your want to take a picture. So, I ask again.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. “So like, what ‘inspired’ me to come back to New Orleans? And leave Dean?”

“Sure.” He nodded slightly. “If that’s what you’re thinking off...”

“I.. haven’t.. really had a reason to talk about it.” You said slowly. “It was a hard decision, for sure. But he’s human... We both are. I couldn’t sit around and watch him risk his life day in and day out for a ‘family legacy’ and ‘the greater good’. It felt like I was playing second fiddle to the entire world. I loved him... I really did. I just had to put myself first, you know?” You admitted carefully.

“So you were inspired by your own wants? Your own desires?” He clarified.

“I guess?” You replied skeptically. “Maybe it was more of my own mental health. I just felt like I was being ignored and neglected, I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Interesting.” He mumbled, his face hidden behind his work. “And keeping contact with me, hmm?” He leaned to the side with raised eyebrows. “What about that?”

“You intrigued me, in all honesty.” You said with a small shrug. “There’s so much chaotic energy around you. I noticed it right away, the first time we met. It’s an aura of confidence, power, just flat chaos. And it makes sense when you think about who you are but the way it’s explained in books and stories, that does not do you justice.”

“Is that right?” He chuckled, amused by the way you complimented him. “Enlighten me on the differences, hmm?”

“Stories downplay it alot.” You began. “The books describe you as charismatic, magnetizing, and irresistable. And while that may be true in part, there’s so much more. You’re mysterious, intriguing. And then there’s the underlying complicated, lost, struggling, beautiful, tortured artist that you only see when you’ve been spent enough time with you.”

“Beautiful?” He repeated with another chuckle. “I have to say, Y/N. You may not see yourself as an artist but the way you paint a picture with the English language is fascinating. Hypnotizing, even. Please, continue.”

“You radiate this intoxicating confidence and swagger that any woman would swoon over, that any man would grow green with envy over.” You laughed. “Once I realized who you were, I was completely in shock. The books and the stories and the tales handed down through generations can only prepare you so much to meet the myth, y’know?”

“Mmm.” He agreed. “What was it like when you met me? What really took you by surprise?”

At this point, you were sure Klaus just wanted to hear you talk. It was probably good background noise. But he had asked you to be his muse. So maybe the way you ‘paint a picture with the English language’ was inspiring to him.

“You were kind to me... I hadn’t really expected you to be so welcoming.” You admitted. “You were warm and willing to listen to my heartbreak. You were open to the story from a random stranger and I hadn’t heard of you being so gentle with anyone.”

“I had no reason to be anything but.” He replied. “What drove you to reaching out to me after that first encounter?”

“Well, honestly, Camille tried to talk me out of it.” You laughed and he feigned insult. “She said that you were a ‘loose cannon’, y’know, being your therapist and all?” He rolled his eyes with a smile and went back to painting. “But, I told her that I knew what I was doing. And it’s the small moments when we’re just hanging out, that I think it’s funny. Everyone, and I mean everyone, who hears the story of Niklaus Mikaelson, they run for the hills. They pray for protection and will do whatever they can do stay out of your way.”

“I am quite terrifying.” He said smugly.

“Shut up!” You laughed. “Anyways... Right here, right now, I’m looking at you and my heart loves the view.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you hitting on me?” He asks and you could hear the smug expression on his face.

“You wish, Klaus.” You teased. “As I was saying, I see you for the man you are behind the monster, behind the legends and the stories and the past. I see you, Klaus. And it’s a beautiful sight.”

“You’re too kind, Love.” He replies, intently working on his piece. “I hope you realize how much this time we spend together means to me as well.”

“You’ve helped put me back together after the biggest collapse of my life.” You said truthfully. You set the empty glass on the nightstand and crawled to the other side of the bed. You sat on the edge, knees folded under you. “I didn’t think I would be whole again, and definitely not this soon. You saw potential in this crumbled soul and you saved me from losing myself.”

“It has been my pleasure.” He said softly as he leaned and offered you a soft smile. “An honor, truly.”

“Is this where I say that the honor is mine for being your muse?” You asked with a playful smirk.

“It is, actually.” He nodded with a small chuckle.

“Too bad.” You shrugged. “How’s your painting coming?”

“It’s just about finished actually.” He gestured to the canvas in front of him. “Would you like to see it?”

“Very much, actually.” You smiled, hopping off the bed and nearly tripping in the process. You and Klaus laughed loudly as you made your way to stand behind Klaus. You took in the colors on the canvas and you were taken aback. Your jaw fell slack slightly, your hands resting on Klaus’ shoulders gripped him a little tighter.

“So?” He asked, looking up to see your expression. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered. On the canvas in front of you was a beautifully done painting of you, laughing. Your smile was wide, an open mouth smile that reaches your eyes. You were laughing the kind of laugh that brings your shoulders up and knocks your head back. Your eyes seemed nearly closed, but you knew that;s what happens when you smiled wide enough, it pressed your cheeks up. There was a sunflower placed behind your ear and the background was a mix of quick, criss-crossing strokes of green, blue, and yellow. It made the background seem like a full city scene but blurred, as if Klaus wanted you to be the center of the painting. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful image of myself!” You said in excitement.

“Don’t be so modest, Love.” Klaus said, truly seeming offended this time. “This quick painting does nothing to capture your true beauty.”

“Klaus Mikaelson, are you hitting on me?” You laughed, glancing down to meet his eyes.

“And if I am?” He winked.

“I’m not looking for anything and you know that.” You replied softly with a shake of your head.

“I know.’ He nodded, taking of your hands off his shoulders and gently bringing it to his lips. “I just wanted you to know how beautiful you truly are, how beautiful I see you to be.”

“Tomorrow can wait for some other day to be, cause right now it’s you and me.” You said gently, squeezing his hand gently. “I care about you a lot, Klaus. And maybe I’m not ready to be in a relationship with anyone, but I know that I want to keep being around you. I feel something for you. Deep in this tattered and broken heart that feels something so real for you. I don’t want to lose this feeling.”

“You’ll never lose me.” He replied softly. “I know what it’s like to be broken. Truly, I do. But I promise you, Y/N, the broken man in front of you is yours. Wholly, truly yours.”

[snowbellewells]

CS Fix Exchange Entry: “Sky’s Canvas”

by: snowbellewells 

So, I’ve been toying with the idea for this one for quite some time – and I hope now that I have finally gotten it accomplished, it isn’t so late that no one will care about reading it.  It’s written for the CS Fic Exchange, and the prompt elements that I have used are: a museum, the phrase “it was just a joke”, and also some small art facts – mostly about the particular museum itself (which is real).  I have also put in a CS daughter (my personal head canon imagined one, Morgan Ruth Jones, whom I have written about before), and a college aged Henry.  So, this is set somewhere in an alternative post-season 6 reality, where Henry stays in the Land Without Magic to seek his story, and also to be close enough to visit his family often, and for them to return the favor…)

This can also be found under my TutorGirlml account on ff.net, in the short story collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts.

Tagging @csficexchange  for Prompt #5 and a few others who may enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @flslp87 @hollyethecurious @drowned-dreamer @kitkattin92 @laschatzi @ilovemesomekillianjones @bromfieldhall @cat-sophia

I don’t own any of them – clearly! ;p – but I would love to hear what you think of this little story!  Enjoy!

“ Sky’s Canvas”

The bubbly, nonstop chatter of her four-year-old little girl, which has cheerfully been filling Emma Swan’s ears for the past hour and a half, suddenly stills, immediately grabbing her attention and setting off an interior maternal alarm.  She turns to seek out Morgan Ruth Jones – her little pirate princess – wondering if her daughter has yet again managed to sneak away from them and find herself in some sort of trouble.

           Luckily, Emma doesn’t have to look far before she hears a chortling trill of baby laughter and locates her toddler with the disheveled head of dark, ringlet curls and twinkling, mischievous eyes – an aquamarine mix of her own green gaze and her father’s ocean blue – standing before a huge oil painting of a Spanish galleon rocking precariously on the stormy main and looking up at her father with fixed adoration.  “Really, Papa?” Emma hears Morgan chirp, practically bouncing on the balls of her little feet as she tugs anxiously at his hook in eagerness to hear his answer. “Was it a storm that big you sailed ‘Roger’ through when you went to save Henwy in Neverland?!”

           Emma is just chuckling wryly at the changes which have transpired in her life to give her a little girl more interested in daring adventures, ancient naval ships, and sword fighting than frilly dresses or dolls and makeup, even as her husband raises his eyes just enough to smirk at her knowingly over Morgan’s head, when another voice, youthful, warm, and settling into its masculine, adult timbre, answers Morgan’s question from over her shoulder, announcing Henry’s arrival to join them.  “It was bigger, Pipsqueak,” he confirms jovially, pausing briefly to wrap a wiry arm around his mom in a quick side-hug before continuing to the side of his younger half-sister, kneeling to her level and adding with a gleam in his eye, “A mermaid summoned it to drown them all.”

           “Hen-wy!!” Morgan squeals with glee; the painting, and even her papa’s beloved ship, forgotten as she flings herself into her brother’s arms with enough force to nearly bowl him over, causing Henry to chuckle as he catches her close to his chest.

           “Hey Munchkin,” he greets affectionately, standing to his full height again – now even with his stepdad’s – still holding Morgan, her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that Emma has to wonder if she’s ever going to let go. Turning to include his mom and his surrogate father in his next statement, Henry adds.  “It’s great to see you all.  Things must be quiet in Storybrooke, if you’re still going to stay all weekend.”

           Here he arcs an eyebrow in curious bemusement, a trait Emma realizes all too well that he has picked up from her dashing scoundrel of a husband and probably uses to equally charming effect on all the girls he meets in his freshman courses at Bowdoin College.   It is clear he has settled easily into the small arts school in Brunswick, Maine, just under a two hours’ drive from them, and that the campus atmosphere and freeing anonymity and normalcy he has there must be agreeing with him. Emma wants to snort in disbelieving laughter at his jest, though well aware that he knows better than to ever think his hometown would go completely, boringly normal.  Instead, she shakes her head resignedly, merely giving her grown son a playfully long-suffering sigh.  “You know how it is,” she shrugs, “never a dull moment.  But – if you don’t count the dwarves coming to blows at Granny’s the other morning because Tom Clark accidentally sat in Leroy’s spot at the counter and got his flu germs on Leroy’s plate of bacon and eggs…”

           “Which I do count,” Killian interrupts smoothly, winking at his adopted son.  “I am the one who risked infection from the virus in forestalling their skirmish.”

           Emma rolls her eyes at her deputy husband’s interruption and mutters “drama queen” under her breath, which Henry and Morgan both clearly hear and snicker at before she continues, “Otherwise it’s been as quiet as it ever gets.  No deathly dangerous villains or curses meant to tear us apart and wipe our memories blank.”

           “Yet…” Killian adds on needlessly, an ominous tone in his voice acknowledging the fact that they all know it’s only a matter of time before some new threat is wreaking havoc again.  Their sleepy little town might seem like a place lost in time and space, but it is still a veritable magnet for trouble, and none of them can deny it.

           Killian, however, waggles his brows playfully after his foreboding aside, making Henry shake his own head at his stepfather.  It had seemed a rather grim pronouncement for the reformed pirate – more like his mom, really.

           Morgan grins widely back at her father, nodding in gleeful agreement, her gap-toothed smile showing where she has lost a fair few of her baby teeth recently. “Yeah…yet!” she exclaims, not fully understanding the concern behind the sentiment, but always ready – as is her entire extended family – for action and excitement.

           Emma shakes her head in humored exasperation at her two “children” – wondering, as she often does, how someone who has seen and experienced as much as Killian, who has witnessed some of the worst humanity had to offer and suffered at their hands, who has lived so long and weathered such crushing heartbreak and hate, can still easily find such simple, child-like joy in the littlest things. “Really, guys?” she questions, looking to her college student son for more mature support.  “Can’t we just enjoy things being normal for once?”

           “Aye, of course, my Love,” Killian replies deftly.  “ ‘Twas merely a joke,” he adds, leaning over to brush a quick kiss to her brow that makes Morgan giggle, hide her face in Henry’s shoulder, and cry out, “Eww, they’re kissing again!” in a frank, tickling whisper against her older sibling’s skin.

           “Just a joke is right,” Henry declares, motioning them forward to venture on into the rest of the Bowdoin College Museum and toward the particular exhibit he wants them to see.  The collection was an 1811 bequest from a wealthy benefactor to the school and was one of the earliest college art collections in the country, as Henry had enthusiastically told her over the phone some weeks ago when his project had commenced. His Maritime History class had done a cross-curriculum partnership with the arts department to put together a student exhibit of research and mixed media in the college’s museum, and Henry has been quite secretive about his entry, even if insistent that they needed to see it in person. “Like anyone could be around you lot for long and think you were normal!” he scoffs.

           “Ha ha,” his mother laughs drolly, bumping into his side with her shoulder in playful retribution as they move ahead side-by-side, with Killian, who is now holding a wriggling Morgan once again, following closely behind.  However, once the jostling ceases, Emma grasps her nearly-grown son’s hand in hers for a moment, stunned anew at how much he has changed from the little boy who had found her in Boston all those years ago, and led her into the very life she has now. Squeezing tightly with emotion welling up in her throat, she wishes he could truly understand how much she loves him.

           “Missed you too, Mom,” Henry murmurs softly, pressing her fingers back with his own wrapped around them.  It is more than enough and makes her heart flutter in gladness.  

           Once Henry leads them through a few different rooms and several intriguing displays, he slows when they reach a large, somewhat circular room with a high, arched ceiling, and then turns to them with a mysterious smile on his face and clear anticipation in his big, brown eyes, just as they have always held, even at ten years old.

           At first glance, this particular exhibit, this room in itself, seems empty. Looking around with faces equally full of curiosity and confusion, Killian, Emma, and Morgan end up staring back at Henry expectantly until Killian finally speaks up, “Begging your pardon, Lad, but I’m afraid I am not quite certain what you wish for us to see.”

           Henry gives a nod of acknowledgement, rather knowingly pleased, and making Emma smirk to herself with a mother’s satisfaction at seeing her son so confidently happy and in his element.  ‘He’s definitely got something up his sleeve,’ she thinks affectionately, admittedly finding herself anxious to see what his surprise might be.  She knows that Henry has been loving this course all term – not to mention how thrilled her husband had been at the news – and that the long term practicum research projects are being showcased here throughout the entire month of April.  Emma can only conclude that her son’s hard work has paid off in a way he’s proud of, and he must believe wholeheartedly that they will be too.

           All Henry says is, “I take it you’re ready then?” and at Killian’s nod and Morgan’s “Yes, yes, YES, Henwy!!” exclamation, while she hops up and down exuberantly, he switches off the lights and presses a previously unnoticed button next to the light switch.

           Immediately, the light and airy sound of some sort of flute or piccolo trickles through the quiet air of the room, a gently evocative melody with a lingering, haunted quality to its tone, enhanced by the sound echoing beneath of waves washing gently against the hull of some easily floating ship or back and forth over the shore of some deserted bay.  Even as the sounds which are familiar and comforting to his tiny family audience wrap around them, small pinpricks of light appear just like stars in the night sky out on the ocean, sparking to life on the walls around them and the high ceiling overhead.  It is a constellation spread out just for them in breathtaking majesty.  Then, the Author begins to narrate his newest story…

Listening to Henry’s words, Emma feels her breath catch just a bit in both awe and emotion, glancing quickly over at her husband and daughter, before either of them realizes they are being observed. Morgan’s green eyes are wide and sparkling with interest and excitement, her mouth an open “o” as she looks above her, dazzled at what would appear for all the world to be the stars and constellations in the night sky brought indoors and spread out for their entertainment.  Killian is silent and still, so much so that Emma knows – as few others would – just how valiantly he is battling some strong emotion…how very touched he is.  Emma was never as great a student of the star charts and navigational astronomy as her sailor would have loved to make her, but Henry ate it right up, and she would bet her battered and beloved old VW that Henry has recreated some particular display that holds an extra meaning for he and his stepdad alone.

Shaking herself slightly to bring her focus back to earth and her attention back to the words of Henry’s presentation once more, she hears her son’s voice – soothing, engaging, and reeling her into the adventurous stories behind the scattered specks of light arrayed above them and their meaning and guidance to generations of sailors making their ways on a wide and pathless sea.

“The Cygnus,” Killian mouths silently beside her, appearing genuinely awestruck as he takes his gaze just momentarily from Henry’s representative “sky” to look in the eyes of the young man he has for years now cared for and loved like a son; a sincere gaze of fond understanding passing between them that brings a film of unshed tears to Emma’s vision that she has to rapidly blink away.  In fact, soundless though it may be, she catches Killian’s comment only because she is so focused on her husband and his emotional reaction to this gift Henry has given all of them – but her pirate in particular.  Emma senses that Killian knows it in this moment and holds tightly to his fingers twined with hers while practically beaming at her son, wondering again how she ever got lucky enough that the two most important people in her world would love each other as much as they each love her.

Morgan reaches over from Killian’s arms to pat her mother’s cheeks as Henry concludes his tale and turns the lights back up. “Don’t cry, Mama,” Morgan coos sweetly. “Henwy’s story was happy in the end. The Swan leads the sailor to his home.”

Emma smiles shakily at her daughter, and then the rest of her family with their looks of understanding.  “I know, Baby,” Emma murmurs softly, still brushing away the evidence, but with her smile growing broader all the while.  “Don’t worry.  These are happy tears.”

[twinkiplier]

AntiSepticEye Edit Tutorial (PhotoShop)

I’m sure a lot of you out there need some help making Anti edits, or just never knew where to start, or just want to know how other people do it. I like to think I’m pretty handy with PhotoShop, so I made up a little guide for y’all.

There’s also a tutorial on coloring eyes at the bottom!

Step One: Find your image.

Yeah, I know, we’re starting here. Bleh. But it’s really important that you get the right resolution for a picture, okay? So I’m just gonna make sure you get it.

When you search for your image, make sure you’re using the tools and that you’re searching for a fairly large image. Larger than 2MP is the best option, but sometimes doesn’t have what you’re looking for.

When you find the image you’re looking for, hold on - it might not be the biggest size you can find. Make sure you Search by image first.

This should pop up underneath the search bar of the new page. Click on All sizes, it’ll take you to another page with just that image.

Clicking on the first usually brings up the biggest one, but sometimes they’re of bad resolution and you have to click through. If it takes a second to load, chances are it’s nice and big. But wait! Don’t just click and drag.

Make sure you View image to get the highest resolution! It’ll open in a new tab.

You’ll need to right click and Save image as…. This will allow you to save to the desktop, or whatever work folder you’re using. Hooray! Now you have the best possible image to use for this.

Step Two: Prepare the image.

Okay, so you have it now. You need to get it into PS. But before you open a new canvas, hang on.

OPEN. Yes. I’m literally showing you how to open a document. Deal with it.

Now that you have it open, it’s best to crop it to whatever size you want. Just so it’s easier to work with.

It was pretty okay as-is, I just wanted it a little more tight around the shoulders.

Now, duplicate your layer. You can do this by pressing Cmd-J or Ctrl-J.

On this layer, we’re going to adjust the levels (Cmd-L or Ctrl-L). If you don’t know how to do that, just bring the black and white arrows in closer to eachother with preview on. It’ll look right eventually.

Step Three: Basic Overlay.

Start by making a new layer. Simple.

Pick a shade of green. Make it bright, but not infinitely saturated to oblivion. I picked this lovely shade, but it doesn’t really matter in my opinion.

On your new layer, fill in the whole canvas with your green. Ta-da.

In order to actually see Jack under it, you’ll have to change the layer style to “Color.”

It’s still way too bright and saturated, so we’ll need to dull it down a bit by lowering the opacity to... about 50% in most cases.

There, that looks better.

So now, with the color layer still selected, let’s mess around with the Hue/Saturation menu a little bit (Ctrl-U or Cmnd-U) with preview on until it looks good. I settled on this, which was -15 Hue and -45 Saturation.

Step 3.5 (Optional): Using Filter Gallery.

This part is completely optional, but it allows for much more playing around - if you are using a program similar to PhotoShop but don’t have the actual thing itself, such as Gimp, you can skip this step.

So now, we need to make another copy of Layer 1, and place it overtop of the green layer for the moment.

On this layer, we’re going to open up the Filter Gallery so we can mess around with it.

For Anti, one of the best filters is Film Grain. Crank that up to max and you have yourself something pretty cool. Messing around in these can take up hours of time just seeing what horrific creations you can make, but don’t take too long or you’ll forget what you’re doing.

Especially when you discover this button.

Now, what I’ve done is added some maxed-out Rough Pastels overtop of the film grain, giving it a sketched and blurry look.

After bringing that in, I decided I wanted it offset to be more noticeable - but there’s a gap.

So I copied that layer and left it in place, tuning them down to 25%.

There’s still a gap.

To get rid of it, I just select that gap and place a layer mask on the second effect layer.

There’s a bit of a glitch on the edge, but who cares - it’s Anti.

So now, I’m gonna move the green to the top, so it affects everything.

Much better. It kinda looks like a watercolor painting.

Step Five: Adding Glitches.

Now, if you’ve looked over Robin’s edits of Anti, you know his glitches are somewhat subtle and more auditory than anything.

Making sure to use the Add to selection tool, select some bars over the entirety of the image. Just three or four.

Make sure to avoid areas like the eyes and face aside from a few small bars. Now, all we need to do is invert selection (Ctrl-I or Cmnd-I) add a layer mask to the green layer.

Good, that lets a few more normal parts peek through.

Now duplicate that layer, we’re going to do something cool with it.

Turn that entire layer into static, the easiest way is to use Filter Gallery but you can also just tint an image of static green.

Now it’s starting to get a bit more of an Anti feel to it.

I switched the static’s layer style to Hue just so it would pop more, and look just a bit less flat.

Now, because of the hair problem, what I did was chop the layer in half. Turning the top one back into Color and leaving the bottom part in Hue.

Yeah, doing stuff like this requires a lot of layers. It makes things easier to tweak in the long run, especially if you did something wrong in an early step.

If you’ll notice, Anti has a bit of a glow around him sometimes. To replicate that, we need to select Jack - but not just any old way, no. This is the only time I’ll recommend use of this, but we’re using the magnetic lasso tool. Copy the layer of Jack, and do this on the copy.

Just draw around him, it doesn’t have to be perfect and if it looks choppy or messy, good.

Now, select and mask.

Crank up not only the Edge Detection and Smart Radius, but also Shift Edge. That gives it that weird, off look. Use this selection to create a layer mask.

Now comes the glow. Double-click on the layer and you’ll be brought to this menu, where you can add an outer glow.

Mess around with it while you have preview on, just have a little fun. The jankier, the better. If you want to use Divide, make sure the color you’re using is the exact opposite of the color you want it to come out as.

When you’re done, make sure you put the full green layer all the way on the bottom. 

Now, all the way at the very top, we’re going to add an adjustment layer for Hue/Saturation.

Adding +50 makes the whole thing just a bit more saturated, which gives it an Anti vibe.

You don’t want to oversaturate the bits of Jack, though, so make sure you add that same layer mask to keep it inside the Anti part.

Step Six: The Eyes.

It’s coming along pretty well, I’d say. You can stop here, or keep going, make tweaks and add more glitches. It’s up to you, really. Have fun with it. However, if you want to know how to do the eyes, well then. I’m absolutely here to teach you.

First, we need to get real up close and personal. Turn off all the layers except the bottom one, and duplicate that. This is what we’re working with.

You can use the lasso tool first to get a rough approximation of the eyes, then make a layer mask around that, but you need to use the brush tool to refine the layer mask by hand until it’s only the eye.

When the other one’s done, you should have something horrific staring back at you. :)

Now, the first thing we’re going to do is oversaturate the eyes. That’ll make them pop even more.

Turn on the layer beneath it, and you can see it’s just a subtle change but it’s crucial.

Once you turn the other layers back on, though, it’s like we’ve done nothing at all.

So, to fix this, we just move the layer up.

I actually oversaturated them again after that, and it’s such a small difference but it really stands out. Now, if you want to make black demon eyes, it’s really simple.

Just make another duplicate of your base layer, add the eyes layer mask, and then turn down the levels almost all the way until you’re satisfied. Make sure they still shine a little! That’s what makes them look good, and not just painted black.

See? Now we’re really getting somewhere. The last thing is, of course, the Septic Eye. on a new, blank layer, set your brush’s flow and opacity down to 20-30%, and color in the sclera green and the iris a much brighter blue.

It might be a little rough around the edges, so don’t be afraid of using a soft eraser to touch it up. 

Don’t worry if it looks bad up close, either. No one can tell from a distance.

Now, just turn all the other layers on, and voila. Pretty neat, huh?

Here’s the full, finished image. I had a lot of fun making this! Might make a Darkiplier tutorial too, if y’all want that. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like to know how to do, I’d love to help out.

[plow-and-propose]

Kiss The Rain

In which Harribel meets Orihime on a cold, wet day in the human world. Pre-relationship; introspection

Something to try and get my muse up and running again in time for New Years. Largely inspired by @loving-that-officey-feel‘s Sunday Six which introduced me to the phrase ‘Irresistible Lesbian Magnetism‘. I tried to get into Harribel’s head a bit, how she might react to the human world, while also shipping her really, really hard with Inoue.

Warnings: I’ve realised some of this could come across as Urahara-bashing (my feelings towards him are. mixed). It isn’t heavy but just a heads up.

Enjoy~

She had been told that her powers would be greater in this world, where the air was thick with water, where it made lakes and rivers and seas. She remembers stepping through and feeling her powers bloom.

But... the skies had been clear then.

It rains here, in this world. Not trapped in wisps of cloud, or buried under the sand, water gathers in the sky and falls.

It is both empowering and humbling to be so surrounded by her element. It drips in her hair, runs across her lips, tumbles from her outstretched palm. Tastes clean and fresh, the endless rhythm drowning out her thoughts. She stands in the downpour, soaked to the bone, and feels... peaceful, somehow. Peaceful, and so lost in the heaviness of the rain that she neither hears nor senses the other approach.

"Harribel-san?"

Tier blinks. Her feet slap the concrete as she turns, feet squelching her in shoes. Realises, as she comes back to herself, just how cold the water is.

Inoue hurries over, rain falling in a shower from her pink umbrella. She's in summer clothes still, Tier notes, a short sleeved T-shirt and frilled skirt. Inoue's bare arms are covered in gooseflesh, and her canvas shoes are soggy. She must have been caught out by the rain just like Tier.

Inoue stops mere inches away, peering up at Tier with wide, worried eyes. "Are you alright?"

Tier shakes herself slightly. "Yes, Inoue-san," she says. "I am perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?" Inoue leans a little closer, then makes a funny sound of surprise. "Ah! You're soaking wet! Come with me!"

--

Orihime Inoue is the only person who can give Tier Harribel orders. Not because she has power, not because she has authority, but because her demands are given with such pure, clean innocence that Tier can't think of any reason to disobey. There's no... manipulation. Not ulterior motive. It had taken a while for Tier to understand, to realise that she could see no malice because there wasn't any; that Inoue's words and actions are driven solely by kindness.

It's something she's had to get used to. Not just from Inoue but from all her human friends. Kindness is not the same in Hueco Mundo, even where it exists.

Now Tier finds herself in Inoue's bedroom, naked, a towel around her waist and a bundle of clothes in her hands.

"We're about the same size, um, around," Ioune had said, pulling out various articles of clothing, ignoring some, putting others aside. "Put these on, I'll put yours in the dryer." Tier had done nothing but stand there, dripping, becoming more and more aware that she was getting the carpet damp. Feeling out of place.

"You don't... have to..." she'd said eventually, with Inoue looking at her so expectantly, offering the towel.

"Eh? Of course I do!” As if it was obvious, as if it was easy. “I can't leave a fellow girl wet in the rain!"

As if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Now dry, Tier begins redressing herself. The skirt reaches her knees, and is a little snug, but feels warm and soft against the Gigai's skin. The socks are unnecessary, but add an aesthetic touch with their spots and bows. It's only when she reaches her upper half that Tier encounters a problem.

"Um, how are you doing?" Inoue asks, through the crack in the door.

Tier’s been slowly getting used to the human world, learning their customs and quirks, but there are still some things she has difficulty with. Some things that Hueco Mundo, and even Las Noches, failed to prepare her for.

Tier fumbles with the hooks. "Inoue-san... how do I..."

Inoue peers around the door, then ducks out again, a blush appearing on her cheeks. It's another strange thing about humans, how much their cover their bodies unless the circumstances are very specific.

"Oh! Well, I find it easiest to put it around myself with the hooks on the left side at the front, then do it up, turn it round, and pull it up and on."

Tier follows the instructions to the best of her ability. "And put my arms through the loops?"

"Uh huh!"

Tier frowns, pulling at the straps. "It's a little tight."

Inoue’s head appears around the door again. "Um, I'll adjust it for you, if you want?"

"Yes, please."

Tier doesn't quite understand Inoue's reluctance; she has shown no fear, hadn't even thought twice about inviting a former enemy into her home, so why is she so cautious coming around the door? Inoue does so anyway, face still a little red, and does something to the firm bits of plastic that makes the bra straps loosen.

"They really didn't have these in Las Noches, huh?" she asks, a little awkward. Tier pulls the shirt on, a gentle white thing that is wonderfully soft.

"No. Well. My mask pieces gave support, I didn't need them." There’s a full-length mirror on one wall and Tier finds herself staring. She still gets caught off-guard by how… expressive she looks, with the lower half of her face exposed.

"Oh, phew!” Inoue continues, picking up the damp towel and soaking clothes. “I thought I was explaining badly, Ulquiorra didn't understand!"

It’s funny enough to earn a small, startled laugh. “You asked him?” Tier tries to imagine the conversation, to picture Schiffer’s expression, but it’s hopeless.

“Yeah, I did!” Inoue laughs, a bounce in her step as she leaves the room once more. “I’ll put these in to dry, and then I’ll make us some hot tea… Uh, do you like tea?”

“I don’t know,” Tier admits. The only times she’s seen it, she’s been physically unable to drink it. “But, I will give it a try,” she adds, at Inoue’s crestfallen expression.

It’s not long after that Tier finds herself kneeling at a low table, a mug of green tea in her hands. It isn’t sweet, it tastes mild and almost earthy. She finds she likes it.

Inoue heaves a sigh of relief at Tier’s nod of approval, and takes a sip from her own, slightly darker drink. “I made yours a bit weaker,” she explains, “since you’re not used to it.”

“It is pleasant,” Tier says quietly, more because she feels she has to speak than because she has anything to say. Inoue fidgets a little, gazing around the small room. The dryer makes a steady churning noise in the background. The rain outside continues to fall.

"Um, Harribel-san…” Inoue begins, staring at her tea. “Why didn't Aizen put me with you?"

Tier has another sip, considering her answer as the warmth soaks into her tongue. It is a natural question to ask, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. "I don't know,” she says after a moment. “Perhaps he thought I would have been too sympathetic."

“Oh, yeah… that makes sense…”

“Inoue-san…” Tier puts her mug down, and stares solemnly at the girl across the table. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

Tier cannot stand her gaze. The light, innocent confusion. She looks away. “What you endured in Las Noches… it could not have been easy…”

“Oh!” Inoue sounds genuinely surprise. “No, I’m fine! Strong as an ox, healthy as a horse! I’m fine, really!”

She’s smiling so brilliantly that Tier can’t help but give a small one in return.

“I’m glad.”

“And, everything worked out alright, didn’t it?” Inoue continues, casually waving one hand. “I got home, Aizen’s gone, ah, um…” she trails off. “Harribel-san… are you alright?”

Tier has another drink of tea. “How do you mean?” she asks.

“I heard that… when you were taken…” Inoue bites her lip. “Urahara-san--”

Tier slams her cup onto the table.

It’s involuntary, and she regrets it the moment she sees Inoue flinch, but she cannot stop the rage from boiling inside her, or the shaking in her hands. Tier shuts her eyes, locked in place, because if she moves she could tear this whole building apart. “I do not like that man.”

“Who?” Inoue whispers, but it’s loud against the quiet.

“Kisuke,” Tier spits. Her claws leave scratches on the table and she forces them angrily around her teacup, clenching the brittle thing until it cracks. “The way he talked about this body… the way he touched it, when he showed me. Saying those things as if I wouldn’t understand, as if he thought it was funny… This body feels tainted.”

Her words leave a tense, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Tier breathes. Slowly. In and out.

“Don’t be,” she says, voice low and clipped. “It isn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t matter! Tier-chan, nobody should make you feel that way!” Inoue squares her shoulders. “I’ll talk to him, if you want, I’ll make him apologise!”

Kisuke is not a man who can be made to do anything. It is something Tier has seen before, in other men, in Aizen. But Inoue is so determined that she makes it seem possible.

“No,” Tier says quietly. “You don’t have to get involved with this.”

“Tier-chan… U-um…” Inoue stumbles, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “Can I call you that?”

Tier stares for a moment. “I… suppose?”

“Tier-chan.” The conviction is back. Inoue leans forward, hair spilling over her shoulders in amber waves. She puts her hands on the table, then moves them even closer, to wrap around Tier’s where they’re still holding her cup.

Tier finds herself captured by imploring grey eyes.

“Tier-chan,” says Inoue, “I want to be involved. If… if we’re going to be friends, then of course I’m going to help you!”

“...Friends?”

“Mm-hm!”

“I see…”

She doesn't know how to react to this.

Inoue draws back after a moment, cheeks fiery red, so soft, so fragile. So easy to draw blood from beneath tender skin. It makes no sense, there is no reason for her to do anything for Tier's sake. There is nothing she can gain, and besides, the Queen of Hueco Mundo is not so easily manipulated.

Nothing to gain… except…

There had been nothing for her to gain either… save for another voice to listen to in Hueco Mundo’s endless night. For another set of footsteps in Hueco Mundo's endless sands. For another soul, not inside her body but with her nonetheless.

“There is little point speaking to him,” Tier says eventually, a bitter edge to her voice. “He won't change. I expect you'll get a flippant non-apology and a joke thrown in your face.”

Inoue looks affronted, offended even. “Um, I don't know if he's that bad…”

Tier raises her eyebrow in a way she has almost certainly picked up from Sung-Sun.

“...but that isn't the point. I can't not do anything now.”

Ah, so it is a sense of obligation after all. Which will make the situation easier manage, at least. She shouldn't feel disappointed.

“And like I said, I want us to be friends!”

It’s as if something stronger than her mask is sealing Tier’s mouth shut. This notion of friendship, it is absurd. What point would there be to it, they live in separate worlds for goodness sake - the gigai is supposed to be for diplomatic purposes, a way for powerful Arrancar to attend meetings and such in the human world without threatening the inhabitants with their reiatsu alone. It isn't as if Tier can take a vacation whenever she feels like it and drink tea. But there doesn't seem to be a way of saying it.

There is a sharp, high sound that makes both of them jump, and the dryer comes to an abrupt stop. Inoue leaps to her feet. Tier is left, staring at her lukewarm drink, wondering what she can possibly say.

“Um… your clothes are dry… I'll iron them if you'd like?”

Tier gets abruptly to her feet. “No, thank you. I have imposed long enough.”

It was only supposed to be a walk after all. A test. The sooner she returns the gigai the sooner sooner she can return to Las Noches. Tier thinks it over as she changes again, fully aware of what Kisuke will say if she returns in Inoue's clothing. The outer walls of the fortress are still badly damaged; she's been focused more on clearing the underground halls. While Tier may resent Las Noches for who built it, she can't deny that it's become an important centre point and sanctuary for the hollows who are now her subjects. Besides, she likes sleeping in a bed.

Tier folds her borrowed clothing and returns to the main room of Inoue's home. The girl is waiting in the centre, a folded umbrella in hand and an anxious look about her. Tier can't help but feel as if she's spoilt something, somehow.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?”

“No,” says Tier, as she accepts the offered umbrella. “But, thank you. I… appreciate your support.”

It earns her a small smile.

“I will speak to him, Tier-chan,” Inoue promises. “I'll speak to Yoruichi-san as well, see what she thinks.”

“You don't…”

“But I want to! I want to, Tier-chan.”

“... Alright.”

She's smiling. She can feel it, and with her face so bare she feels almost naked, but she can't stop it, and finds she doesn't want to.

Inoue opens the door for her. Tier raises the umbrella, steps out into the rain, and marvels at its power once more.

“A-and! If you're ever around again, you should come over!”

Inoue is leaning out of the door, rainwater falling on her hair, shining, glimmering from the warm light of her home.

“We can have more tea, maybe some daifuku and sandwiches. There are some recipes I'd like to try, so… Please consider it!”

Tier meets those kind, earnest eyes and finds herself agreeing without thinking. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, of course… It would be a pleasure, Inoue-san.”

She turns into the rain before another word can be spoken. Before anything else can distract her.

She continues to think as she walks, turning Inoue’s question around in her mind. The rain slaps beneath her wet shoes, and the cold air has chased away the warmth left in her clothes.

Aizen had been many things. A man, a king, a god. A warrior. A tyrant, and a traitor. Cruel. Insane, or perhaps merely drunk on his power. Yes, he had been many things. But he had never been a fool.

Why didn't Aizen put me with you?

Tier knows the reason. Know it every time she imagines that face, those lips, those kind and honest eyes.

Because I would have let you go.

[ao3-writer]

Bonjour, Monsieur

7:05 pm

Tyler: Hey, wanna go out and eat? My treat.

7:36 pm

Ethan: Busy. Sorry :(

T: oh

E: ACTUALLY. WAIT

E:I'll say yes

E: One condition thou.

E:*praying hands emoji*

T: What?

E: You have 2 come over + basically get naked 4 me.

T:...

T: Ethan... that's gay...

E: I LITERALLY SUCKED YOUR DICK THIS MORNING.

T: I'm kidding, yes i'll go. Just let me shower real quick.

E: "that's gay" stfu, we ARE GAY. JFC TY

Ethan set down his phone after replying to Tyler's offer. Then he started to wonder. He looked at the blank canvas he had taken from Mark's house after their video. He bit his bottom lip in wonder and suddenly had an idea. He grabbed his phone just as Tyler replied. He shot out four responses then laid his phone on the bed so he could pace and wait. When the little ring startled him out of his thoughts, Ethan opened the text thread and sighed. Once Tyler finally agreed to come over, Ethan threw his fist in the air in victory.

The blue-haired boy happily lay on his bed, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Tyler to arrive. Then he realized that might be a while. After Ethan moved out, it only put their relationship at more risk. Tyler was always the touchy/grabby one in the relationship. It seemed like Tyler's hands were magnets and Ethan was the metal. At every opportunity he would try and hold Ethan. His hand, his waist, his arm, just... him. Don't get Ethan wrong, he loved how protective Tyler could be. In fact, when they were on tour and the fans exploded over the picture of he and mark touching heads and Tyler just hovered over Ethan for the rest of the day.

Ethan was usually the sensible one. He shuddered under Tyler's touches and compliments. Sure, every now and then Ethan would get mad but they got over it through time. Except now that Ethan's moved out, Tyler is extra touchy. There were close calls on the tour and then in the office Amy has started to suspect.  

Nonetheless, they still held strong and Ethan loved Tyler with all his heart. And his dick. Or... Tyler's dick? NEVERMIND. Point is: They were happy.

Ethan started to get everything ready. He found a stool to place in front of where he'd be painting. Happily, Ethan admired his little setup next to the kitchen. Ethan got the idea after the video that he liked painting. As ridiculous as he tried to be, he couldn't help but wonder if he could actually draw someone if he tried. He originally intended to paint Mark but after some thought, he tossed away the idea.

Ethan checked the time seeing it was almost thirty minutes after Tyler read his message. Ethan waited a little longer before he sighed, figuring that Tyler probably got held up or just didn't want to. Ethan grabbed his canvas, ready to stow it away when he heard his door knock. Setting the canvas back on the pedestal, Ethan walked over to open the door revealing a strong scent of cologne and a nearly half-naked Tyler Scheid.

 "What are you wearing." Ethan deadpanned, staring at Tyler as he leaned against the door frame, giving the other a smirk.

 "I got it from the box Mark has of his pole dancing days. Ya like?" He replied, winking, "Plus, who doesn't love a strip show?"

In that instant, Tyler walked and used Ethan to pin him against the door, closing it shut. Ethan's heart rate began to rise as Tyler quite literally towered over him. He swayed his hips against Ethan's frame and slowly slid down, hands tracing all across Ethan before resting on his ass. Tyler slid back up, maintaining eye contact with Ethan the entire time.

 "How's that?" Tyler asked.

 "It was unexpected. I can say that much."

Ethan led Tyler to where Ethan would be painting him. Ethan was shocked (and low-key found it kind of sexy) at what Tyler had chosen to wear. It was a plastic see-through shirt that had refined details of what a comedic tuxedo looks like. He had on some type of... underwear, he supposed, that was entirely made out of ribbon with a little bow tie holding them up. What really had Ethan shook was that all of it was really tight on Tyler and he just... popped.

Everything, from his biceps, to his chest, his torso, his... *cough*. Ya get the point. Everything was just very defined. Ethan sat on his own chair and looked at the canvas blankly, then back at Tyler behind it who flexed on purpose to smite Ethan.

 "What are you doing." Ethan asked bluntly.

 "It's my pose.." Tyler replied smugly.

 "You're going to have to hold that pose for like an hour."

 "I'd rather hold you in a certain pose for an hour." Tyler replied with a wink. Ethan blushed and decided to start doing an outline of Tyler's head to keep him distracted.

Tyler switched position four times before he settled on standing next to the stool, leaning on it with one arm. Ethan, slowly getting frustrated, began to fix little details before getting to the rest of Tyler. As he worked, he found that he wasn't doing so bad. He had the more or less shape of Tyler correct, now all he needed to do was work on the actual physique of Tyler and all the details that would come with it.

Minutes ticked by, but Ethan was too immersed to notice. Tyler, however, was getting bored. He tried not to scratch his leg considering last time he did, Ethan threw a paintbrush at him. Waiting for Ethan to finish took a long time and Tyler realized then that he'd never want to become a model. Tyler suddenly had an idea come to mind that would make things more fun.

After Ethan turned back to his canvas, Tyler quickly unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt. Then returned to position. Ethan looked at him before doubling back and looking at him strangely.

 "Did you move?"

 "No."

Ethan returned to his painting and Tyler continued this little game until he was on the last button. Once he unbuttoned that, he took his shirt off altogether and smirked the next time Ethan looked.

 "Really."

 "What's wrong, babe?" Tyler asked.

Ethan tried not to get distracted by Tyler's actions. He definitely did not try and think about Tyler's body and how beautiful he looked. Or how just the other night that same body was dripping with sweat when they were in Tyler's car fu--

Yeah. Nope. Nope nope nope. Ethan was not getting distracted. He continued to draw before he felt it was time to add some color to some minor details. As Ethan worked on Tyler's face, he looked up to inspect Tyler looking as casual as ever with his smirk. Ethan muttered under his breath how he loved his smirk before returning to his canvas. The next time Ethan looked at Tyler, he found him clad naked. Literally.

 "Like what you see?" Tyler asked smugly.

 "Tyler. Can you... not..."

 "Oh, sorry. Should i change position?" Tyler said as he sat on the stool and opened his legs. "Like this? Or something like:" Tyler grabbed the ribbon underwear and placed them over his crotch and put his hand behind his head and gave Ethan sexy eyes. "this?"

Ethan looked away and tried so hard not to fall for Tyler's game. he returned to his painting and tried to focus on not messing up the colors. Then he heard Tyler's feet walk closer to him and Ethan looked away from his painting to suddenly see Tyler looking down at him and his crotch directly in his face.

 "You seem distracted, babe, need help concentrating?" Tyler asked. Ethan stared up at him before he fell off his seat and onto his knees.

 "Good Boy." Tyler whispered...

 But then Ethan heard a knock on his front door and he snapped back into reality.

 Ethan was sitting on his seat, string at the empty canvas when he heard the knock. He stood up and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Tyler in a regular T-Shirt and a pair of jeans.

 "Hey. So why exactly do I have to get naked?" Tyler asked as he walked in curiously. Ethan shut the door behind him in a daze and looked Tyler up and down. "Is something... wrong?" Tyler asked seeing Ethan gawk at him.

 "You're not wearing ribbon underwear." Ethan stated plainly. Tyler raised an eyebrow.

 "Are we talking about Mark's?"

 Ethan pinched himself wondering if this was a dream or what. Realizing nothing had changed, Ethan analyzed Tyler one last time before he shook his head.

 "So... why am I getting na-"

 "Nevermind. Change of plans. Let's just go eat dinner." Ethan said as he went into his room to change his shirt and grab a jacket.

 "Are you sure? Cause we totally have time to-" Ethan stopped Tyler's sentence with a kiss that he strained because he was on his tip-toes. Tyler looked down at Ethan in surprise, followed by his smirk. "Alright. Fine. But you have to tell me what changed your mind."

 Making their way to the nearest restaurant with a drive-thru, Ethan recounted his "dream" to Tyler of what he thought happened. Once they returned to Ethan's apartment, they had changed subject at that point and were laughing and giggling once they showed up to Ethan's front door.

 "Well... this was nice." Ethan said.

 "yeah... it was." They looked at each other as Tyler leaned down to kiss Ethan. They held the kiss for a good few seconds before Ethan broke it to open his door. Once he stepped inside his door, Tyler pushed them right through and closed it shut behind them.

 "Ty, what are you-." A finger was raised to Ethan's lips to silence him and before he knew it, Tyler was taking off his shirt.

 "Bonjour, monsieur" Tyler growled before he lifted Ethan off his feet and carried him to his bedroom where Tyler taught a whole different meaning to the term 'painting'.

*wink*

[fandom-in-reverse]

Young Heroes | Doc Ock/Avengers AU

CHAPTER THREE Tony walked into the lab with a tablet in his hand. He scrolled through some blueprints of things he wanted to spruce things up. He stopped in front of one of the computer's, swiping on his tablet for a few more seconds before he turned to the computer screen. Tony tapped the computer, turning and changing through blueprints, changing minor details of some. He glanced around the room, found a chair, and pulled it in front of the computer. He went from one electronic to the other, getting lost in thought. Tony has now been working at S.H.I.E.L.D for a couple years now, and those years have flown. Everything was a blur, yet he remembered everything that happened. It was weird feeling; wasn't everything weird? Everything that has happened and everything will happen in the future was strange. Tony knew nothing was going to get easier, but a little bit of pressure couldn't hurt anything, right? Hell, Tony thought, they have a genius on deck -who wouldn't want that? That should take a bit of the weight off S.H.I.E.L.D's shoulders for when it comes to technology. They have are getting one-up's on everything, and, after a while, all their equipment should be the most advanced until Tony could think of ways to upgrade those. It was a continuous cycle of bettering everything. Pressure turns carbon into diamonds after all. There was a soft knock on the door, and a "May I come in?" Tony scrunched his eyebrows and turned on his heel. No one asked to come in -they just strolled in with no second thoughts. "Jarvis -hand!" Tony stuck out his right hand and one part of his Iron Man suit shot itself onto it. He aimed the palm of his hand at the man standing at the door. The man at the door raised his hands in the air in defense. "What the hell are you doing here?" Tony asked, laying down his tablet as he stood up. "What-" "Unlike your name, you were supposed to have drowned. Answer the damn question." "Stark." Director Fury comes to beside the man. As the man lowered his hands, Tony refused to lower his. Fury crosses his arms behind him. "In case you didn't know, you recently started working here too." "Started working here too? Don't tell me he's working here too." The beam on the robotic hand started to glow brighter as Tony asked. "I'll give you all the details, Stark when we have Captain Rogers here with us in a few hours as well. For right now-" "Right now, he needs to get put in the barracks. Or do we just let anyone join S.H.I.E.L.D at this point?" Tony stopped Fury mid-sentence. "The last time I checked, bad guys were the ones you guys fought against. Now, you just hire them at the spur of the moment." "Dr. Octavius has been through reform and rehab, and has been helping us in his spare time-" "He tried to blow up half of New York!" "I'm right here, ya know?" Otto raised a finger, attracting the attention of the two men. "Oh, no, I see you." Tony waves his hand at him. Otto let out a small sigh as he continued. "I would be lying if I, uh, didn't agree with the both of you, but in all regards, I don't expect for you to... trust me completely yet." He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands into the pocket of his dark sweatshirt. His collection of sweatshirts has grown steadily over the last few years, mainly for the fact that they could, if not fully, conceal the mechanical arms on his back. Fury looked back to Tony. "Now, Stark, if you'd please." His voice grew louder at the last word to emphasize the order. Tony knew what he was talking about, and though he resented the idea of letting the elephant in the room roam free, he commanded Jarvis to connect the arm of the suit back with the rest. He rolled his eyes as soon as Fury turned his back. Otto stood there awkwardly at the door frame before he took a step in. "Just so you know," Tony started, taking his tablet back into his hand and sitting back down in the seat. "There's, like, hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D agents on board." He could feel his grip on his tablet tighten a bit. "You try anything someone will catch it." "Don't worry," Otto nodded. "I promise I won't." He added, raising his hands in defense. Tony didn't trust Octavius, to say the least -after seven years, the man tried to blow up half of New York City for Christ's sake! Tony remembered the day that happened, most if not all of his electronics were on the fritz due to the magnetic field. It took him weeks to get things straightened out. And to make matters even worse -if there was even such a thing as fate- the man was supposed to be dead at the bottom of the bay. Pressure was also a bad thing: too much and it could kill. ========== Grandpa Torbert traveled to the school student parking lot, following the tow truck. The mechanic hooked up the 95' red Chevy car I had, and when asked by my grandparent, checked what was wrong with it and why it wouldn't start. "They took the oil cap off and disconnected the battery. Other than that, the car's perfect, sir." The mechanic commented. "I could hook the battery up; you'll need a new cap, though." "She could've taken care of that herself if she would've checked under the hood!" Grandpa stated, throwing his hands in the air. With a couple snaps of the wires, the mechanic hopped off the back of his truck to get into the driver's seat. He opened the door, then asked Grandpa: "You following me?" "Yeah." Grandpa waved at the mechanic. He got into Grandma's car, a silver 90's Mercedes, to follow the tow truck from the school to the house. The two came back to the house and Grandpa told Grandma and I what we needed. I took it upon myself to search for the requested part online. I had to go to the Chevy site; upon further searching, the part was coming from California. It was my only option. The part would be at the house sometime in two weeks, though I doubted it very greatly. I scratched my head as I looked at the checkout screen. Two weeks... I could walk to school, sure, and honestly, that looked better. I didn't care about the weather then because I would have endured that instead of going on the bus or risking taking Grandma's car. I sauntered down to the living room, carrying my laptop in my arms. I see Grandpa sitting in one armchair, feet up and hands behind his head to the right of entering the living room, and Grandma sitting in another on the other side of him. There was a couch to the left with a television set placed in front of it all. Right now, Law and Order was on. I sat on one end of the couch as the show played on. I exited off the car site and started to go through other websites lazily. "If you want to change the channel, Lily-" Grandma started, but Grandpa stopped her. "They're getting to the good part!" He pointed at the screen and put on a sleepy smile, a sure sign that he was bound to go to sleep. Grandma took the remote from the arm of Grandpa's chair, giving it a nimble toss. I threw my hands over my laptop screen, catching the remote with a little fumble. The two of us share a giggle at this acrobatic exchange. When I'm around my grandparents on days like this, I forget my worries for a while. Everything seems fine like the storm has lifted, if you want to use that metaphor. They don't want to hurt me nor do they want to see me break down just to laugh at me like a sideshow oddity. High school students were liked that -Mean Girls comes to mind. Those girls that liked to torture me (I wouldn't exactly use the word torture; if you were harassed for an extended amount of time, it would certainly feel like it) and one of the things that got a run for their money was seeing the bruises up and down my arms. I learned quickly to wear sweatshirts and long-sleeve shirts, even in the dead of heat. Anything to keep my dignity. I turn the guide on and scroll; I see Downtown Abbey is on. I liked it for the first few episodes, but it was something about it that had detoured me from it. As I scroll down some more, one show -Being Human- caught my attention. I clicked on it considering its description. The main synopsis of the show is this: a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost are living together, and try to act normal... With respects to the show, this is actually is quite hilarious. I lay the remote on the arm of the couch and position myself on the couch with my legs on the cushions and laptop, well, in my lap. I lay my head on the back cushion, cocking my glasses my the slightest of fractions but paying no mind. I listen to the television as I scrounge the internet for whatever reason. Just scrolling and feeling the keys tap beneath my fingers is relaxing enough for me. After a few minutes, I hear my grandfather start to snore lightly. My grandmother tapped my shoulder gingerly and pointed to him, rolling her eyes in the process. I restrain as much laughter as I can as she goes to the study. The study was used for Grandma and her paintings. She would go there in some of her spare time, and add to the forest landscape she had dreamed of: a line of trees that circle around a lake, with a setting sun overhead. It was her hobby because cooking that is. Several of her paintings hung throughout the house: small canvas paintings of the city, some a bit larger of pictures about the the family -there's one picture hanging beside the bed in her and Grandpa's room of my father as a child.