#found an old sketchbook from school and decided to try some

[mercilessflowchart]

[idyllwave]

more self!aware gojo

Gojo’s foot tapped restlessly as he used whatever measure possible to look into your room, at your phone, and even into your sketch book.

Slowly but surely, you were drifting away from him.

He could remember it clearly when he first stumbled upon him, or, more accurately, when you first found him.

You were scrolling through youtube mindlessly. Your teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek as boredom threatened to kill you. Which was when a recommended video popped up. The title was something simple. “Top ten new gen anime to watch” or something like that. Already finishing your winter anime for the season, you decided to give it a watch. And at 1:30 of the video, he saw you and you saw him. He could see how your eyes shined just a tiny bit as you sat up and focused more on the screen.

Jujutsu Kaisen.

You noted the anime title quickly as you exited the app and went searching on where to watch it. Luckily for you, the anime was on Netflix, and much to Gojo’s amusement, you had immediately started binging the first season.

And throughout each episode, he got to know you.

You were a college student. A hardworking on at that. You still lived with your parents. Had a decent manga collection with figurines lining your bookshelves. You had two close friends that you had since middle school. And you were a total loser.

Gojo was in love.

He was used to the attention. He got it from everyone in his world and everyone in yours (or, at least, the people who actually watched anime or read a manga).

But he quite liked your attention the most.

You didn’t go overboard, but were still a fan that slowly started collecting the manga and looking for merchandise with his face on it.

Oh, you were so cute.

Your social media pages were dedicated to him. Your usernames having some sort of variation of his name. Your sketchbooks and fanfics were littered with his face and speech patterns. It was adorable. And unlike other fans, you did try to get to know him. Sure, you don’t try to do those character analysis posts, but you still try and he likes the effort.

Which was why he put so much effort in getting to know you too.

And yet…

As the manga continued he started to notice a sort of distant from both him and you. And it truly started to show right after his death and the end of the manga.

He watched as you changed your username. Your sketchbooks became empty. And your fanfics became so few. Your lengthy 1k fics turned into 50 word drabbles. Your username highlighted other characters he never even heard before. And you rarely turned a page of the Jujutsu Kaisen manga anymore.

Were you bored of him?

He didn’t want to lose! He couldn’t!

“Hey.”

Your voice rung in his ears as he snapped his attention to you.

Luckily you haven’t put his figure or poster into a cardboard box yet…

“Y/n! How have you been?”

He watched as you smiled. He recognized the voice on the other end of the phone. Sarah, her name was, a childhood friend of yours.

“Ohhh, nothing much,” you said as you went to cuddle into the comforts of your bed. Your free hand trying to untangle your blankets so you could get comfortable.

“That’s great! I’m planning on going to that anime convention this weekend! Want to come?”

Gojo watched as you perked up, a small smile on his face as he watched you. He has known you for years and it never gets old seeing you so excited for an anime con.

But as soon as the excitement showed, it was quick to disappear as you huffed, “I would love to, but… I have work.”

“Take a few days off then!”

You shook your head, “no can do. They need me for this project, Sarah.”

Gojo hummed, distinctly remembering you talking about it with your parents and how stressful it has been these past few months because of it. Right when you graduated college, you got a job and moved out almost immediately, much to Gojo’s delight. He was happy to see you be able to make it on your own (though, truthfully, he would much prefer to provide for you instead…).

Sarah sighed on the other end, “well, alright… do you want me to get you anything there?”

You played with your bedsheets. Your fingers pinching at the fabric and rolling it between your fingertips, “maybe a Gojo figure?”

“Gojo?”

“Yeah, you know, my all-time favorite character?”

Gojo could hear Sarah laugh on the other end, “kind of hard to imagine since you haven’t been talking about him lately.”

You rolled your eyes, “only because he died… ever since his death and the manga itself ending … I don’t know, I just really miss him. So, I tried to block him out. You know? If I don’t see him as often then maybe I won’t be so sad? Not to mention that work has been stressful lately. It feels like I don’t have any time to myself lately. And I’ve been itching to reread JJK again.”

Gojo could feel himself preening, you weren’t tired of him after all! You were just mourning his death. Which was cute. He liked how you cared so much.

“Alright, alright. I get it. One Gojo figure coming up!”

“Thanks.”

You both talked a bit more before eventually hanging up. He watched you toss your phone to your nightstand before reaching over and fiddling with the switch. After a couple of failed attempts you finally managed to switch it off.

Delving back into his own world where he sat comfortably on his couch, he leaned back. His head tilted back so he could stare up at the ceiling.

He needs to find a way to bring you to his world.

[d-emeter]

Johnny Mactavish who realizes he likes his girls a little bigger when he visits a museum for the first time — plus-sized!fem!reader x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

CW: mid/plus-size reader! this is absolutely far from body neutral, talk of bodies/body image

Some love for my curvy gals🫶🏻

Johnny's first encounter with the beauty of the female form is as expected, almost stereotypical — staring at the pictures in the playboy magazine he stole from his older cousin. Usually hidden under his mattress, only coming out in the dead of night with a flashlight in hand. The girls are pretty. Scantily clad, sultry expressions, and Johnny quickly learns that this is what is considered hot. He sees girls like this in films, too — films shown to him by that same cousin, God forbid his ma ever found out he watched it — and he hears his cousin and his friends drone on and on about how sexy Megan Fox is as she bends over the hood of a car. Desperate to impress the cooler, older boys, he joins in too. This is what he should find hot.

It is what he thinks he finds hot. That is, until his final year of secondary school. He's freshly turned eighteen, overeager to enlist (his ma had insisted he at least finished school before he did), and taking what he thought were the easiest electives to try and coast through to graduation. He finds he actually really enjoys art class, unlike most of his mates who had the exact same plan he did (he's particularly talented at drawing anatomy, and tries not to preen too much when the teacher compliments him for it to avoid teasing).

Said mates and him are fucking around during the busride to the school-mandated museum trip, none of them particularly excited to spend the day between what they deem boring paintings and sculptures. Well, Johnny is actually quite curious — his family never really took him on trips like this — but he pretends to be just as annoyed as the others.

Find a work that calls to you, and use it as a drawing exercise in your sketchbook. That was the assignment. Johnny's friends take the easy way out — beelining towards the modern section of the museum, finding the paintings that are simple squares of colours. He's planning on following them, but then his teacher lays a hand on his shoulder and points him towards another hall — classical sculptures. He's torn, not wanting to be left out of his friends' fun, but also not wanting to disappoint his teacher. He decides to follow the direction of his teacher's outstretched finger.

He's surrounded by white marble and plaster. The genuine old-as-fuck sculptures are displayed on a plateau in the middle of the hall, the plaster copies piled along the walls. He wanders, pausing here and there to sketch a hand, or a nose. And then he spots her.

It's like he's hypnotized, body moving of its own volition, bringing him towards his object of fascination until he's face to face with her. His eyes flick down to the plaque on the floor — Venus. She's a goddess of... something (he wasn't paying attention during that class, okay?). It doesn't matter. The first thing he notices is that she looks nothing like the girls in the magazines, or films — no, her body is softer. Well, it's not really, it's plaster, but she looks softer. There's a roundness to her shoulders, a fullness to her thighs, a pudge to her tummy, the skin in rolls where she's bent to the side. Hot, is the first thing that comes to mind, but then he shakes his head at himself. No, hot doesn't do her justice — she's beautiful. Gorgeous, stunning. He scoffs; she's tucked away in a corner, like she isn't the most breathtaking thing he has ever laid eyes upon. He spends the rest of the afternoon taking down every detail in his sketchbook.

—

Johnny's been searching for her. Or, rather, for that pull he had towards her, all those years ago. He knows it's stupid. His Venus was perfection in plaster, she was made, without faults. No woman can measure up to that, not a real one. And yet he searches. He flirts with the curvy girls, the ones that rarely get any attention among their group of friends. He enjoys the way they react; some fluster, some flourish, none of them expecting his undivided attention. He takes home pretty, plump birds from bars, spends a night worshipping them. Nothing about it is not real, per say. He finds them attractive, frothing at the mouth at the way his hands sink into soft flesh and roam wide curves — but they're not her. He searches.

And then he finds.

It's the day you come waltzing into his life. Or, more realistically, you come waltzing onto base. Price was getting a new secretary, courtesy of Laswell. Johnny hears the comments — she's a pretty thing, young, and smart. He doesn't think much of it. There's plenty of those walking around base.

Then he catches sight of you and — bloody Jesus. You are young, and you are smart, but you're not just pretty. You're beautiful. Plush in all the right places, sending Johnny into overdrive, an incessant need to get his hands on you as soon as possible. It's out of his control, the way his legs carry him over to you until he's face to face with you. He's already decided he'll worship you, if you'll let him.

His goddess. His Venus.

[thebunnyslibrary]

Masterpiece

Pairing: Vampire!Loki x Reader

Summary: A self care day at the art museums leads to a chance encounter with an extremely handsome and seemingly perfect man. But is he your prince charming, or are you a damsel in distress?

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Dub/Non-Con, Kidnapping, Manipulation/Hypnosis (Vampiric powers), Bondage/Shibari, Degredation

A cold rainy Saturday might’ve inspired most people to go back to bed. But for you it was a perfect day for a self-date to the art museum. Dressing in a dark green sweater dress and heeled boots; you decided to bring along your rainbow umbrella to add a splash of color to set against the gloomy weather.

A quick breakfast from your favorite café helped get the day off to an even better start. And a planned takeout on the way home where a good book and your vinyls were waiting for you at the end. Right now, though, sat on the plush museum bench, you let out a breath in frustration as you erased your lines for the 3rd time. You understood why art museums had dim lighting to preserve the works, that didn’t exactly make it easier for you to draw.

Art had always called to you. You loved the way artists mixed color and shapes to create such beautiful images. The best you could do were nice recreations; nothing that made anyone excited or interested. All your life you’d heard halfhearted “That’s nice’s” from people you knew. Your

That didn’t stop you from enjoying yourself and having fun, though. Having to be your own cheerleader was hard, but you were loud enough for a whole squad. Just cause you chose not to make your living in art, doesn’t mean you couldn’t indulge. Thankfully, clerical work paid for your small shoebox apartment and some art supplies to keep you fulfilled. Still the one thing you wish you had was someone to share it with. The old ladies at the library you volunteered at and a few coworker friends were great, but nothing ...extraordinary.

“What a lovely drawing” a rich, velvet, British voice shook you from your thoughts and you looked up into an absolutely mesmerizing pair of green eyes. It took you a moment before you could look away and see how handsome the rest of him was.

Inky black hair framed an angular jaw. He was tall, easily looming over you, but you didn’t feel threatened. He wore a crisp grey suit blazer, a perfect match to the clouds overhead, with a white shirt underneath and black Armani matching shoes and pants. But what you admired was the green pocket handkerchief a perfect match his eyes. His eyes sparkled even in the low light of the museum like two emeralds..

“Oh…uhm…thank you,” you said as he sat down next to you.

“Have you done any other drawings?” he asked. He must just be waiting for his partner, you thought. Someone as sexy as him had to be here with someone.

“Yes, I have.” You replied, your voice flat but polite.

“May I see them?” That caught your attention. No one had ever asked to see more of your drawings. But here was this prince charming of a man doing just that.

“Oh, I …yes… I just don’t want to keep you from anyone,” you started. This had to be good to be true.

“Not at all, doll.” He smiled at his rhyme. “My name is Loki.”

“Loki, rhymes with lucky. Well, kind of.” You joked back, telling him your name. You offered your hand to shake his, but Loki surprised you by taking your hand and pressing it to his lips. You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt your face heating up. You were starting to feel like a giddy school girl.

“Lovely to meet you. Now, please show me what other artists you’ve paid homage to with your talents.” He purred. You offered him your sketchbook and he flipped through, slowly. Until he came upon your rendition of Starry Night by Van Gogh. “Extraordinary.” Loki’s eyes met yours and you suddenly found yourself feeling very shy. “Your pallet of blues and greens are a match for Vincent himself.”

“Oh, it’s just a recreation.” You said, trying to brush away the compliment. Loki’s voice held it’s charismatic charm.

“And? You still recreated it yourself. Not to mention your personal addition of a mix of purple. Besides, I think Vincent would have felt just as bashful about someone drawing his work.” Loki’s words sent butterflies rushing you through your belly and you were beaming with pride

“You speak as if you know him.” Loki smiled but didn’t answer you. He flipped through the rest of your drawings before handing your book back. “You have a keen eye. I’d love to walk around for a while with a such an artistic spirit.” All thoughts of your drawing abandoned, you packed up your things and joined him as he left the exhibit and strolled to the next one.

The two of you spent the rest of the morning wandering the exhibits and it almost started to feel like a date; your first in a long time. Loki lavished you with attention and compliments, and seemed to hang on every word you said. You kept looking at his lips and it seemed every time you did, he was looking at you and biting them. You hoped it was because he was thinking about kissing you, but he never did.

Around mid-day, the two of you decided to have a quick lunch. The museum had a small restaurant attached where students from the local culinary school got experience.

“I only ask you avoid anything with garlic.” Loki requested. “I have a severe allergy. Might I suggest a steak?. I hear it’s absolutely delicious.”

“Oh, that sounds great. I love a good rare steak.”

After lunch, you and Loki toured the rest of the museum, and of course that meant a trip to the gift shop.

“Choose anything you like, little artist. My gift to you.” Loki said and your heart swelled. You weren’t really materialistic, but that had to mean this was a date, right? You had to make sure to get Loki’s number before you both left. Looking around for a little while, you chose a nice oil paint set.

You also grabbed a book of queer poetry the museum was selling to celebrate their new queer art exhibit, and a set of Vincent van Gogh sticky notes (his ear slowly disappeared the more you used). Since Loki had offered you just the one gift, you went to pay for the book and the notes yourself, but he gladly took all three items up to the register.

“Oh Loki, that’s okay. You don’t have to...” But another pearly white grin made you pause.

“I know I don’t. But you deserve it.” You easily hand over the items and you were sure little cartoon heart bubbles were appearing over your head. Strolling out of the museum you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Loki was kind, funny, caring., everything you could want.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk where you two were standing and Loki opened the door, looking at you expectantly. But you were confused. Shouldn’t you be leaving, alone? But you weren’t moving to do that either. Suddenly you were frozen to the sidewalk. Loki tilted his head and let out a small sigh. Blinking slowly and when his eyes opened, they were a crimson red.

“Well now, it seems my influence didn’t work as strong as I planned. No matter, I can easily remedy this. Give me your hand.” You did as he asked, only for the first time noticing how he’d been subtly ordering you around today. Before you could ask another question, Loki smiled and you saw two white fangs in his mouth.

“I won’t be able to have my full taste of you now, but it’s the quickest way to get you to obey. This may hurt, but just don’t scream.” He ordered before biting down and it did hurt, but all that seemed to come to was a whimper. He drank from you for a moment before pulling your wrist away. “Just as sweet as I imagined.” Loki said with a small groan, as if it pained him to stop. “Come now, little artist.” With no hesitation, you climbed into the SUV with Loki and off it drove.

“Loki, what’s…what’s going on?” you felt like all day had been a pleasant dream and now you were waking into a real nightmare.

Ignoring your question, another thing you noticed he’d been doing all day, Loki leaned over and pulled you closer to him; arranging you to be kneeling in his lap. His hands gripped your thighs firmly but the way he rubbed his thumbs back and forth felt intimate and caring. And you couldn’t mistake the feeling of his very hard cock against your bottom.

The car took a hard turn and you grabbed onto Loki’s shoulders to steady yourself. You found yourself looking at his face, wanting to avoid eye contact but the only other option was to stare at his fangs. Currently on display in a smirk that was dangerous, no matter how alluring.

“Did you know, little artist, that human heartbeats are unique? Each one has a different pitch. You humans can’t detect it with all your scientific equipment though. It’s something only a vampire can sense. And darling, your little heart was singing so sweetly for me. A song of loneliness.” Loki said. You couldn’t tell if was mocking you or genuine, turning your head in embarrassment.

But Loki held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Foolish humans can’t recognize true beauty when they see it. A lovely specimen like yourself, but not a one amongst them wanting to treasure you. I suppose if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” And for the first time that afternoon, Loki finally kissed you. The taste of your blood still lingered on his tongue, but rather than be disgusted and push him away, you found your hands clasping on to his blazer tighter.

When you finally had to pull away to breathe, Loki smiled. “What a treasure I have.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” You panted out. Your mind was feeling floaty. The part of you thinking you should fight back was giving way to how wonderful you felt. Surely something bad couldn’t make you so happy.

“Luckily, you don’t have to understand, little artist.” Loki said, teasing with the edge of your sweater. “You just have to keep doing what you’re doing now; dress in my colors and be my tasty little morsel. In return ’ll shower you with whatever you want for as long you live”. A dark glint flashed in his eye “Or however long I let you live.”

Fear edged it’s way back into your senses with a whimper but he chuckled mischievously. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. With how sweet you taste, I don’t think I’ll disposing of you for quite some time. Perhaps ever.” He leaned in close so his lips were nearly touching yours. “Especially with how wet I can feel you’re getting.” You hadn’t thought of it too much during the day, but you knew it was true. It’d been so long since you’d had sex, all the attention today had been stoking your desire. He leaned back, smiling.

“You were so lonely, feeling invisible. But really you were just waiting for someone to see you. Absolutely adorable.”

You should be stopping yourself. You shouldn’t be loving this like you do. But you didn’t know whether it truly was his influence, your own desire. All you knew was you couldn’t stop yourself from biting your lip and grinding against Loki’s lap.

“Oh dear. What a little slut I’ve acquired. Good girls don’t grind against a complete stranger’s lap.” Suddenly, he pushed your sweater and bra up completely, exposing your chest. “It’s a good thing I like dirty little sluts.” His touch on your chest was ice cold, fondling your breasts before pinching your nipple, making you moan and squirm more in his lap

“You don’t need to make art, little one. You ARE art. And with me, you shall become a masterpiece.” He leaned in to kiss and nibble at your neck, a spot that had always been excessively sensitive for you. “Oh, to ravish you right here, right now. But my masterpiece must have a proper framing.” He leaned back in his seat, but left you in his lap fully exposed.

“Loki…please…I need you…” you begged, clutching at his suit jacket; hoping to entice him more.

“I know love, but I’m right here.” He brought his arms around you and drew you close to him. Though not exactly warm, Loki's body was not ice cold like his hands. You didn’t realize how it had truly been someone had held you like this until you were here. It felt, safe. Despite the fact you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t want to be here, you found yourself nestling closer, and grinding just a little against Loki’s lap., teasing him ever so. But this time, Loki applied a soft smack to your ass.

“Now now, little one. If I can be patient, so must you be.” Loki chuckled as he stroked your hair. “Besides, I meant what I said today. Most mortals don’t know how to appreciate art. You certainly do. I’m sure you must appreciate the bard.” He said. You heard him tapping away at his phone. “Normally I prefer to read an actual book. You’ll have to see my library.” Another moment passed before Loki began reading to you. Shakespearean sonnets. You recognized your favorite.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,

For as you were when first your eye I eyed,

Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold

Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned

In process of the seasons have I seen,

Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,

Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.

Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,

Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;

So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,

Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:

For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:

Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

You looked up at him and admired the mischief in his eyes; playful but with no malice. “Have you ever wondered who that sonnet was about, little artist?” he said with a wink and you couldn’t help giggling. You looked out the window and saw the car had driven out of the city and out into a more rural wooded area.

“Though not immediately deadly, my skin is far more susceptible to sunshine than yours. The woods also give us plenty of privacy.” One second Loki spoke like prince charming from a fairy tale; the next, the villain of the story. And both sides seemed bent on only getting a reaction from you. This time it was to shake, whether from excitement or fear you didn’t know. Loki chuckled

“Don’t worry, pet. Your master will keep you safe from the things that go bump in the night.” You pulled in the driveway of a beautiful stone Tudor cabin, though manor might’ve been a better word for it. Two stories of grey stone and grayish-green walls that almost seemed to camouflage the house. An illusion only helped by standing above an underground driveway built into a hillside. From the driveway a winding cobblestone pathway lined with lavender led to a wooden front door.

“Yes, I suppose it is a lot for just one. Luckily, I have someone to share it with now.” Loki said and you turned to him in shock. He let out a chuckle before kissing your forehead. “I can hear all those pretty little thoughts. Even the sad, lonely ones you don’t want to admit to yourself.”

Loki cradled your cheek gently and even though you weren’t sure you should, you let yourself meet his eyes. “You may not believe me, but I promise I speak with no influence. I know you have longed for someone to love you, support you, care for you as much as you care for those around you. And that kind heart, thoughtful mind, and beautiful soul call to me just as much as the delicious blood running through your veins. And I intend to indulge in both for a rather long time. I want you to say ‘Yes Loki’ to show you understand and accept me. Please.”

Somewhere, deep in your heart and mind, you chose to believe him. If a vampire wanted you dead, you already would be. He’d made no move to harm you. Quite the opposite in fact.

“Yes, Loki.” You answered, smiling warmly.

“Good girl.” He said, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. As the car pulled up to the front door of the home, you asked him

“Loki, can I please…pull my shirt down?” He pondered for a moment.

“Yes, but only until we are inside. Then I want you to strip entirely.” You felt slight relief at the being able to cover up as Loki’s driver came around to open the door.

“Thank you, Jeeves.” Loki nodded cordially to him

“My pleasure sir. Madam.” He gave you a friendly nod. You briefly thought of saying something to him, but would the driver believe you if you did? Instead gave him a small smile.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Anytime, my lady.”

“Shall we?” Loki asked, offering you his hand to lead you up to the front door.

“Loki, does he…?” you couldn’t resist asking.

“You’d be surprised what people will believe or accept for a paycheck. Thankfully, I don’t need to keep much staff; only a driver and a house keeper who comes twice a week. I tend to keep a neat household.” He eyed you playfully with a small tickle to your side. “Though it will be interesting actually having to ‘grocery shop.’” You let out another chuckle, a little shocked at how normal this could feel.

“I have a full kitchen.” Loki said. “It was easier to build a house with one than explaining why I don’t need one to human contractors. Plus, it gives me a place to store blood.”

“Where do you get that?” You asked as Loki opened the door for you, a bit more confidence in your voice. If Loki was going to read your thoughts anyways, you could at least choose to be verbal and open in your side of the communication.

“You’re not the first mortal I’ve lured…through my door,” he explained, shutting the actual door behind you. “I’ve collected a supply over the years.” He hung his suit jacket up, unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing his sleeves up his well toned fore arms.

“And did those mortals…go back out the door?” you asked. Loki paused, smiling at you as he took your umbrella and bag from you. For a moment you weren’t sure if this would be another question Loki would actually answer or not.

“Some. Though not always in the same way they did. Now, I do believe we are inside.” You bit your lip as you undressed slowly. You weren’t used to walking around fully naked but the way Loki stared at you certainly helped any self-consciousness wash away. You found yourself wanting to pose for him, show off a little.

“Beautiful. Come along, little artist. Let me show you your new home.” With one arm around your waist, Loki led you down a hallway.

Leaning into the rustic yet refined nature of a Tudor cabin; Loki’s…your…home felt warm and natural. Dark hardwood floors complimented emerald green walls. Golden metal fixtures added a royal feeling to the whole place. Not to mention the wonderful art and posters decorating the walls in golden frames. Including…

“Is that…Starry Night?”

“It’s only a recreation, but one done but by Vincent himself.” Loki mused.

“Just how well did you know this man?” You couldn’t help but ask. Loki thought for a moment, smiling as he reminisced.

“To borrow a crude mortal saying, the carpets matched the drapes.” He finally answered, making you snort in laughter as you moved along to the kitchen.

Loki was right. The kitchen was immaculate. But more modern looking than the rest of the house. Slate grey tiles complemented the black marble counter tops and grey wooden cabinets. with grey tiled floor. Chrome appliances included an 8-range burner and a dual oven would’ve made any baker salivate.

“My mother would faint to see a kitchen so clean.” You said, admiring the view out the window, seeing a lovely garden that backed up to the forest.

“Don’t be fooled. I told the designers to go with darker colors because blood on white tiles would have me living in an Alfred Hitchcock movie.”

“Did you know him too?” You asked, incredulously. Loki chuckled and you felt him press against you from behind. You’d gotten used to being naked but the sudden chill at the feeling of his hands on your exposed skin had you feeling very exposed.

“Do you cook little one?” Loki asked, kissing along your neck and shoulders.

“Some things.” You breathed. “I suppose I’ll have to cross garlic off the menu.” Loki chuckled.

“Perhaps. But being around for quite some time, I’ve found a good spice mix that takes its place. Now, lean against the counter and spread your legs for me, pet,” You leaned and did so, giving him full access to your pussy. His left hand dipped between your legs while his right held your body close to his. His voice purred in your ear.

“Did you know little artists, humans tend to smell like what they last ate?” His middle finger began drawing small circles around your clit. “And you just smelled so delicious. English tea…and blueberries.” You could feel Loki’s smile against your neck. “Even though I don’t eat, I’ll make sure my little pet gets fed the most delicious foods.” You tried to focus on what he was saying but all you could feel was his hand between your legs, not doing enough to bring you to climax but just enough to drive you crazy.

“Come now, little artist. I have another room I promised to show you.” Loki’s sudden withdrawal of his hands had your knees almost buckling, but you steadied yourself on the counter. With a frustrated sigh, something Loki smirked at, you followed after him.

But you were glad that you did as Loki lead you to the library he’d mentioned. Walls upon walls all lined with books. A central sitting area had an incredibly comfortable looking plush chair set in front of a fireplace. It was like you’d always imagined.

“Plenty of room to paint or draw in as well.” Loki pointed out. You were pleasantly surprised at the sound system. A turntable set in a wooden cabinet with dual speakers and a modern faceplate.

“The directions said it can connect to phones as well, but the record player was most important to me. The best way mortals have thought to preserve music.” His words did make you think of one thing you’d nearly forgotten.

“Loki, I have some…personal, irreplaceable other things at my…old… home…” you weren’t sure what you’d call it now. “could we go pick them up please?”

“Absolutely, pet. Now. I’ve saved the best room last.” You knew what that meant. And this time you were quicker to follow him, full of anticipation. Loki led you to a double set of doors. But before he turned the handles to open them, he turned to you, meeting your eyes.

“Outside of the bedroom, I am rather lenient and want you to be comfortable. Behind these doors, however, I am your king, your god. But that doesn’t mean I wish you true harm. You will address me as master, but if something I do causes you serious, dangerous harm, your safe word is frost. Understood?” The seriousness of his voice could’ve given you fear, but you felt safe and secure as you replied.

“Yes, Loki.” Loki arched an eye brow at your address. “You said, in the bedroom.” You said, trowing a smirk back at hum, unafraid to let a little sass slide.

“Clever, pet.” Loki opened the doors, revealing a beautiful bedroom. Hard wood floors covered by a plush looking area rug Several more bookshelves lined the walls, along with a vintage looking writing desk. A wooden bedframe that matched the floors dominated the space with beautiful dark green sheets.

“Kneel on the bed for me, pet.”

“Yes Master.” You answered, climbing up and relishing in the softness of his blankets. You felt like you were kneeling on a cloud. But unsure of how to position your hands and settling to rest them on your thighs you saw Loki admiring you as he did the paintings today.

“Exquisite.” The feeling made a shiver of anticipation run down your spine, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. He slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing a lithe but toned body. “Do you like what you see, pet? Tell me.”

“Yes, Master.” You expected him to remove his pants, next. But instead, he went to a dresser, reaching into the top drawer to pull out a beautiful gold colored rope. “I told you that you would be my masterpiece. Another thing you learn from living so long is all of the body’s most sensitive spots. And how to stimulate them simultaneously.”

Loki went over to one of the shelves, thumbing through the records and pulling one out to set on the player. He turned back to you with a smile as smooth jazz of Miles Davis filled your ears and not just the physical ones too.” He then lit some candles scent of red berries, jasmine, and plum washed over the space, making your head swim. Stimulated was certainly the right word for how you were feeling.

Loki studied you for a few moments, and you lifted your head confidently, his gaze and everything he’d done were all working together, making you feel sensual and desired.

“So perfect for me. And all mine.” Loki mused, starting to tie the ropes. First, he wrapped ropes around your legs, binding them in a bent position before attaching them to your hands behind your back. Then he encircled your breasts, squeezing them just enough to make them sensitive but not painful.

Every knot he tied was punctuated with a kiss or a little nibble to your skin. Usually followed by a whimper or a moan from you; occasionally a giggle when Loki found a ticklish spot, which he seemed to take special note of. The most sensitive knot though was the one Loki tied just at your clit. Just like you’d grinded against Loki’s lap earlier, you couldn’t help trying to get some friction, but the knot was tied perfectly to apply the same level of pressure no matter how you moved.

“Lokiii…” you whined, which earned a smack to your pussy.

“I’m sorry, you were ordered to call me something, weren’t you, slut?” Loki hissed. “Unless you’d like your master to take full control?” He warned.

“No…Master.” You whimpered in response. You’d gotten too comfortable, unwittingly test a boundary that you thought was a security net, but was revealed to really electric fence; appearing harmless but if you tested it, you would be hurt. Loki’s expression softened.

“Good girl.” Loki gave you a boop to the nose, but with the way your body was tied, you found yourself falling backwards into the plushness of his bed. You looked and saw he was turned away from you, undoing his pants. But that gave you a great view of his ass. Your hands clenched as you had the thought of giving it a hard squeeze. After all, fair is fair, right?

“Oh just wait, pet. The best is yet to…come,” he turned. His zipper was undone and he’d pulled his cock out of his boxers. He was, stroking it languidly and you were a little stunned at the size. You’d felt him earlier but even still. Loki joined you on the bed, settling between your spread legs so his cock was just brushing against your entrance.

“You are positively dripping for me, little artist. So desperate for me to claim you. To be a vampire’s whore. Is that what you are, slut? My little blood bag to fuck and feed from?”

“Ye-yes Master” you panted trying to buck your hips up “Please fuck me.” At that Loki leaned in and you thought he might kiss you but as he thrusr his hips forward, driving his cock deep inside you, he bit down hard on your neck. The pleasure and pain making you scream as your toes curled. Loki drank from you as his hips set a steady pace. When he pulled away, his lips lowered to your ear.

“So warm, so tight, so perfect. No wonder your heart called to me, pet. Your cunt was made for me.” Loki growled, leaning up to grin down at you wolfishly, only helped by the fangs. Your blood was dripping from his lips but that image only drove you crazier with desire. Loki’s cock was stretching you better than your toys ever had; only heightened by the knot against your clit and the edge he’d kept you on all afternoon. It wasn’t long before you could feel your climax building.

“Master, please… it’s so good,” you moaned.

“Such a wanton slut. My little morsel. You want your master’s cum, filing you and claiming you as mine?” His thrusts increased in pace and pressure, fucking you harder and faster. His hands holding your hips with a firm grasp you were sure would leave bruises.

“Bruises, reminding you who belong to. I have such delicious plans for you. Binding you to display you wherever I want, using my control to make you cum over and over again until you’re broken before me.” His words and promises only fueled you more and your pussy was clenching his cock, ready to cum.

“Master, please may I cum?” you begged, so desperate from the incredible pleasure Loki’d given you. You’d had a few sexual encounters in the past, but nothing like this.

“Yes, yes, you will cum for me. With the knowledge I’ve ruined you for any subpar pleasure some mortal man would try to give you. You. Are Mine.” His words were punctuated by extra hard thrusts and the last one finally made the coil snap. Your body tensed in blinding pleasure as Loki again bit down into the other side of your neck. The light headedness only heightening the experience as you felt him still above you, cumming deep within you.

Loki reached down and fiddled with a knot by your knees and you stretched slowly as you were able to unbind your legs, even if you were still wearing the rope like some bizarre set of tights

“Oh don’t worry, little artist. I have plenty of ways to bend your body to my will, I won’t have to force your mind at all.” His hands stroked your hair so gently, while his lips left kisses lighter than air along your neck. Your hands, still bound in the rope, did not feel like handcuffs. In fact, you decided to tease Loki by scratching his back with the ropes.

“Mmm…just a little lower, love. That feels delightful.” You both giggled and he placed quick kisses to your lips. “It’s been quite some time since I shared my bed with someone; at least someone I planned to spend more than one night with.” Loki confessed.

“It’s been a while for me too. I’ve done okay by myself but sometimes…” you trailed off.

“One thing I will certainly do, little artist; is teach you to live deliciously.” The last word rolled off his tongue and he pulled you into one more kiss. His touch felt like a cool pillow on a warm night. You felt the soft, silken blankets being wrapped around both of you and let yourself wash away into a blissful haze of sleep.

[kinardsevan]

Okay, prompt. Tommy and Buck are having slow shifts and one of them decides to call the other.

consider this as existing in the same timeline as to can’t outdrive pain (someday it’s gonna take the wheel)

we survive

Tommy sighs, pushing a piece of paper across the table.

“Riley, you have to at least try to make your art not be derogatory,” he states in a gentle but firm tone. “Miss Sidney isn’t going to let this fly.”

Riley rolls his eyes, tossing a conte crayon onto the table. Charcoal scatters as it cracks in half, and the teenager crosses his arms. Tommy frowns, reaching out for the crayon and setting it back inside the box he’d brought with him.

He’s no stranger to Riley’s moods six months into this endeavor. What had begun as a way to fill some time after breaking his elbow and having to miss weeks of work has become part of his weekly ritual now, occasionally twice a week when he can swing the extra time. Evan has joined him a number of times when the time off has lined up, but today he’s alone.

Riley Collins was almost sixteen and had a rough background, one Tommy could relate to only too well. His mom had died when he was three, and he was left with an alcoholic father who cared so little that at seven, he’d been found digging in a neighbors trash can for food. That had begun the teen’s childhood in foster care, but it hadn’t been the end of it. He’d cycled through multiple foster homes with while struggling with attachment issues. There was a year-long period when Riley was eleven where his father had gotten sober, regained custody, and things seemed like they might get better. Except, Riley had been the ringer by that point. He’d lived in homes with emotional and verbal abuse. He’d seen parents hit each other, and occasionally hit the children. He’d seen sexual abuse through the tiny window of where his blankets didn’t completely cover his eyes when cries of his foster siblings woke him in the middle of the night. He’d faced some of those situations himself, and by the time he cycled back into his fathers home, he wasn’t the same little kid who had learned to become self-sufficient when his father was lost to the bottle.

Either way, Riley’s father made it six months before his sobriety with Riley back home went to hell. There was a DWI, and then an occurrence where Riley showed up to school with a black eye and bloodied nose. Then he was locked out of the house. CPS was still so involved at that point that he was quickly placed back in foster care, but the writing was on the wall at that point. Even though he’d been placed with a family with good values, he was a mess. There were stolen things, broken possessions, a flirtation with breaking the law. Ultimately though, it was a full-on brawl he got into with an uncle which led to his placement in the group home. And the thing was, he was a great student. He could stay invested in his school work and the routine it required without a problem. But when it came to people…he was a mess.

Tommy couldn’t help but reflect that back to his own childhood.

“This is so fucking lame anyway,” Riley bemoans.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You seemed to think it was cool three days ago.”

“What the fuck do you know, old man,” Riley replies, scowling at him. He shoves away from the table, and Sidney is up out of her chair quickly, already calling after him, but Tommy raises a hand to her.

“Let me go,” he tells her softly. Their group is usually a bit bigger, but with school being back in session, half of them have signed up for extracurriculars, so there’s only three today, and Sidney has the other two pretty well covered with whatever they’re drawing.

She looks at him with a hint of apprehension, but then nods, settling back into her chair.

Tommy picks up his sketchbook and moves around the table, walks out the back door toward a picnic table where Riley is pushing a stick into the aged wood, trying to peel a piece of loose long grain with it. He dares a glance up at Tommy and then sighs, looking back down at the table.

“Hey kid. You wanna tell me what that was all about,” he asks, crossing the space between them but still staying a few feet away.

Riley huffs but doesn’t answer as he keeps pushing at the picnic table with the stick. Tommy frowns, taking a few more steps forward and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a tin of Altoid Sours. He pops one in his mouth and then offers one to Riley. When the kid doesn’t immediately take one, Tommy rests the tin on the table between them.

“You know, I used to make a lot of really violent art,” Tommy states. “Still have some of it. Drawings of people getting stabbed, gunshot wounds.”

“Bet Miss Sidney would love to hear that right now,” Riley states sarcastically.

Tommy shrugs. “Probably not. But it was how I dealt. Especially with the people who hurt me when I was your age.” He flips his sketchbook back to the front before setting in front of Riley on the table. The first few pages have older, yellowed paper taped in. It’s been crumpled and some of it is shredded, but Riley looks up at it, skims over the images. He sets the stick down and flips a page over as something that looks suspiciously like comic paneling tells the story of a child and his abusive father. He watches the way Riley runs his fingers over the paper, touches the images.

“What do you know about abuse anyway, old man,” Riley murmurs softly, anger still present in his voice.

“More than you’d think, kid,” Tommy replies. When the teen looks up at him, Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I wasn’t always this built or lean. And me at thirteen, on the huskier side and gay? That didn’t go over all that well in my home.”

Riley doesn’t let on his emotional response to Tommy’s explanation, but he keeps flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. A drawing of a war zone. Drawings of mass military graves. Dog tags. Bloodied fists with colored pastels.

“Least you got out,” Riley comments after a few minutes of silence. “Had someone to help.”

Tommy gives a haughty laugh. “I went to the military to get out. I didn’t have anyone waiting at home if I made it back from Iraq. Everything I’ve done, I’ve had to do on my own.”

There’s still a scowl on Riley’s face, but the ire seems to sink out of it as he listens to Tommy.

“I was not cool when I came back, either,” he adds. “I was really shitty to people I now consider friends. Spent a lot of years alone because I couldn’t figure out how to just connect with people.”

“Least you found people who wanted you around,” Riley grumbles, his voice still soft, like he doesn’t actually want Tommy to hear him. “I got two years.”

Tommy sighs. He’s not sure whether saying something is a good idea. There are still too many what ifs and probabilities for him to be sure.

“You know, Evan and I have been talking to Miss Sidney,” he states in a quiet tone. Riley finally reaches out and takes one of the altoids, pops it into his mouth. His eyes slowly raise, though he doesn’t look directly at Tommy. “But we can’t do anything if you keep showing this kind of attitude in program. They won’t consider it a good placement.”

Riley’s brown eyes meet his then, his sandy blonde hair half hanging in them. He stares at Tommy with a bewildered expression.

“Hailey is-..”

Tommy shakes his head, cutting Riley off. Of course the kid would think they’d want a young child. “Hailey doesn’t fit in our home. She’s six. She needs a mom.”

“Dakota-“

“Doesn’t like fire trucks,” Tommy comments, in reference to another one of the younger kids.

Riley looks up at him, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you two want a baby?”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Do you know how long the adoption process is for an infant? Never mind surrogacy.” He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the fact that for all of Riley’s questions, the idea of living in a house with two men in a committed (carnal) relationship isn’t one of them.

Riley is quiet again for a few moments as he closes Tommy’s sketchbook and places it back on the table.

“I age out in 798 days,” he mutters.

Tommy takes a breath and shrugs again. “Well. I guess that leaves us roughly twenty-two thousand more to have you around with us, five of take a few thousand,” he states. “You know, if you want to.”

Riley looks up at him through his eyelashes with an expression that’s trying suspiciously not to reflect any kind of hope. Tommy recognizes it from the one he had when he’d been told he was going back to live with his father at thirteen. He narrows his gaze slightly as he reaches out for his sketchbook.

“You know, Evan makes a mean shepherd’s pie,” he comments, sliding the book back over. “I could probably get him to whip one up tonight. He’s supposed to be off shift soon.”

“T-tonight,” Riley stammers.

“Only if you want to,” Tommy replies. “And if you apologize in front of Miss Sidney. I kinda promised her you’d be a good fit and you’re making me look bad right now.”

The slightest bit of an upturn happens at the corners of Riley’s mouth. Tommy nods, reaching out for the altoids tin. He closes it and pops it back in his pocket.

. . .

Hours later, in the silence of their home, Evan rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder as they stand in the doorway of what they expect to become Riley’s bedroom. The teen is sprawled across the Queen-sized bed and a pillow that Tommy finds to be suspiciously similar to one from his and Evan’s bed is wrapped tightly in the teen’s arms.

“Dare I say, he’s a little attached to us,” Evan whispers to Tommy.

Tommy chuckles, pointing up to the T-shirts tacked up to a cork board on the wall. “That was his idea.”

Both shirts are worn and faded, one from the 118 and the other from Harbor. The vinyl is half-peeled from the shirts, and only the outline of Tommy’s last name remains on the shirt that belonged to him from how much use it’s seen.

“Who would’ve thought he’d like us that much,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think he feels seen. Understood,” Tommy murmurs back. He takes a breath, looking down at Evan. “He asked if he could take both last names.”

Evan smiles wearily at Tommy. “He can have whatever he wants.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, although he stiffens when Riley moves on the bed, only to settle a few seconds later with a contented sigh.

“And this is why you’re not in charge of the budget right now,” he comments. “He’ll have you talked into a car and three gaming systems in under twenty-four hours.”

Evan scowls at Tommy, turns his head and bites his shoulder. Tommy grunts softly, turning toward him. He pushes Evan gently out of the room, across the hall into their bedroom, easing the door shut quietly.

“Let’s not traumatize the kid on his first night home,” he states, framing Evan’s face with his hands before he dives in for a heated kiss. Evan moans softly into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s shirt.

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to drown me out with the shower,” Evan replies, tugging Tommy back towards the en-suite.

And he does.

[iamsoconfusedallofthetime]

Eternally grateful that I grew up WITHOUT ai so that I could, y'know, actually learn how to do shit.

Like- drawing?

Middle school me was on those Naruto art tutorials like no other. I used my good thin tip Prisma markers that my brother stole for me up on shitty Deidara and Urushihara drawings on the back of my English assignments, and pissed off my teachers cause I never paid attention. And now I can draw pretty fucking decently, both in an anime style and a somewhat realistic one.

Writing? Wattpad fanfiction both traumatized me (Citrus Scale will always stay in the back of my mind no matter how much I try to lock it up) and showed me- not exactly how to write but what kind of writing I enjoyed reading and what styles to copy until I formed my own. Like how to break up scenes and how to write dialogue and how to keep a character in character. I couldn't always do that last one well the first time but I learned to recognize when the characters i was writing would never fucking do that.

And now, other than my lack of self discipline, I'm pretty good at writing. At least I know where I struggle. I still need to remember that I don't always have to perfect the first draft and that sometimes first drafts can just be first drafts, but I'm doing well.

So damn grateful that I can write my own fucking essays and draw my own art and use my damn braincells to actually come up with something on my own instead of relying on a fuckass robot to predict pixels based on probability and smash stolen artwork together.

"Not everyone is privileged-" Art was never something being gatekept from you. The tutorials I used in middle school and a million other new ones are perfectly available to you. Poor artists have always found a way. Disabled artists have always found a way. Busy artists have always found a way. Don't type a prompt into a machine and call it "art" like you put an ounce of effort into it.

My cringe ass middle school sketchbooks and half written fanfiction has more value than something you didn't even bother to make yourself.

"I'm not that creative. I can't come up with a story or characters" dawg I was using fucking GACHA LIFE to make character designs! The first one was basic as shit! It was just a ginger fox woman with a black hoodie and ripped jeans on cause that's what I thought was cool! And that was ok, that was just where I was starting! You will grow! You will learn! Just put in some fucking effort and have some damn patience!

"my fandom is small and I want more fic/art to consume" MAKE IT THEN. No one wants something made by a machine. Most people have writing requests! Wait for them to open and request something! Or learn to write it yourself.

There are writing prompts that you can use to practice. No one is expecting you to become Mary Shelly overnight. Use them.

There are hundreds of "Let's make an OC" videos you can use. No one is expecting you to recreate the Mona Lisa next week. Use them.

Actually - here a quick tutorial on fleshing out ideas:

Throw out any fear if being cringe. Today's cringe is tomorrows skill

Start with something or someone small. Let's take, idk, a jacket?

What does the jacket look like? What does it do. In this step it usually helps if you decide on a genre. Is it fantasy? Sci-fi? Let's go with fantasy.

Fantasy jacket. Cool. Does this jacket do anything? Or does it belong to someone? Let's say the jacket itself does something.

The jacket can be cursed or blessed or have some type of spell on it. Maybe whoever wears it can't be hurt.

If whoever wears the jacket can't be hurt, then what happens when you take it off? Does it just remove protection or does all the damage you were supposed to have obtained while wearing it manifest all at once? AKS YOURSELF QUESTIONS!

Think about how it was made. Who made the jacket? Was it always cursed? What kind of world does it belong to that made it's existence necessary in the first place? Was it made as a gift for a prince or by an old mad wizard? Think.

Make a story. Maybe the jacket was intended as a gift and has been passed down a bloodline as a double edged sword; something that let this family win wars and topple nations, but seals their fates if they take it off. Maybe it was something shared among orphans in a slump and protects them. Maybe your story follows the current wearer of the jacket and the consequences it brings. Maybe your story is from the perspective of the jacket itself.

The world is your oyster. Think about something. Expand on it. Then write it. Draw it. Make a comic and post it or keep it tucked away in your notes app.

Don't give up after your first attempts turn out like shit. You're not gonna learn in a day, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Just create something! Go make a friend to bounce ideas off of if you have to!

Here's some art tutorials I like that you can use:

How to draw poses: https://youtu.be/4SHnOJGRmJw?si=cvjNGVt8Xs-YCSsd

How to draw character interaction

https://youtu.be/_XxjaH2dXR4?si=v17DjAeEKNBGxE_i

Drawing perspective:

https://youtu.be/g9ge4XBNRwA?si=QsC4rDfmARVYNVfx

Urban object sketches:

https://youtu.be/SDQEaJY291A?si=ID6jA_NCSMmkhIJe

Urban sketching (buildings more so)

https://youtu.be/yocInfqlYqw?si=krSQyWU8vLonwYL9

Drawing clothes and folds:

https://youtu.be/a1O1OQglA7w?si=oaqUusLMQPauI6ro

Find your art style:

https://youtu.be/hM_Mme3yvss?si=Tpt-ReJ4HMLFHfdH

Colors theory:

https://youtu.be/pAK0cvVQr_4?si=BI_zjp8RwgfIQhsP

There are hundreds of tutorials online. Find them and use them.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Parings → Danny Sullivan x Reader

Warnings → Personality disorder, 18+, violence, language, blood, angst, fluff

A/N : This fanfic series does not follow the original series.

Summary → Danny Sullivan, your best friend, who has personality disorder. After you find out about his disorder you try to help him as much as you can.

Masterlist / Chapter 2

The school hallways buzzed with the usual clamor of students chatting, laughing, and hurrying between classes. Amidst the chaos, you and Danny moved as a pair, almost inseparable. It had been this way for as long as you could remember—his shy demeanor had always balanced well with your more outgoing nature. You had become Danny’s safe harbor, his anchor in the stormy seas of high school life.

Today was no different. Danny walked beside you, his usual quiet self, with a sketchbook clutched under his arm. He had a way of disappearing into his art, of getting lost in the swirl of colors and shapes. You found solace in his company, even when he wasn’t speaking, just knowing he was there.

“Hey, Danny, want to hang out at my place after school?” You asked as you approached his locker. It was a routine offer you extended, one that he always politely declined.

He shook his head, giving you a small smile. “I can’t today. Got some stuff to finish up at home.” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of hesitation in his tone.

You frowned. “You say that every time. I don’t get why you never let me come over. It’s not like I’d be in the way of anything.”

Danny’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers tracing the edge of his locker. “It’s just… complicated. You know how it is.”

You had noticed the way he avoided talking about his home life. There were subtle signs—the way he’d tense up whenever the subject came up, how he would quickly change the topic. You respected his boundaries, but it didn’t make you any less concerned.

“Come on, Danny. It’s just me. You don’t have to hide anything,” you said gently.

His eyes met yours, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “I know you’re just trying to help, but it’s not that simple. I really can’t.”

You were about to press further when the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class. Danny gave you a small nod, his usual smile returning. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

You watched him head off to his classroom, a mix of worry and frustration bubbling inside you. It was clear he was hiding something, but he wasn’t ready to share it. All you could do was respect his space while hoping he’d eventually feel safe enough to open up.

After school, you made your way to the park where you and Danny often hung out. It was a quiet place, away from the buzz of school, with only the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds breaking the silence. Danny arrived shortly after, his familiar sketchbook in hand.

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile more genuine now that he was away from the school’s eyes. “How was your day?”

“Same old,” you replied, sinking onto the bench. “Yours?”

“Busy. I’ve been working on a new piece. I think you’ll like it.”

You watched as Danny settled beside you, flipping open his sketchbook to reveal a new painting. It was vibrant and full of life, a stark contrast to the subdued colors of his usual work. The colors seemed to dance on the page, telling a story you were eager to understand.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, genuinely impressed. “What’s it about?”

Danny’s eyes sparkled with passion as he explained. “It’s about escape. Finding a way out of the shadows, you know?”

You nodded, sensing that there was more to his words than just the art. The painting was a reflection of something deeper, something he wasn’t fully ready to share. You decided not to press him further, content to simply enjoy the moment.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, you and Danny talked about everything and nothing. It was in these moments that the weight of the world seemed to lift off his shoulders, if only temporarily. His laughter was more genuine, his eyes brighter.

When it was time to head home, you walked with Danny to the edge of the park. He always insisted on walking you partway, a habit you had grown accustomed to.

“Thanks for today,” you said as you reached your street. “I know you’ve been busy, but I appreciate you making time.”

Danny nodded, his expression softening. “Anytime. I always look forward to our hangouts.”

You smiled, feeling a pang of sadness as you realized the day was ending. “So, are we still on for our usual meetup tomorrow?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Just… let’s keep it at the park for now.”

“Got it,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Danny watched you walk away, his usual smile fading into a more somber expression. You had been his shield, his escape from a world he wasn’t ready to confront. For now, that was enough.

─── ༓･*˚⁺‧ ꕥ ༓･*˚⁺‧ ───

[anundyingfidelity]

MCU MASTERLIST

☆ (angst). ♡ (fluff). ★ (smut).

ADAM WARLOCK (GOTG VOL. 3)

IS THIS OKAY? / one shot. ★

You teach Adam how to touch you for the first time.

ADAM'S AWESOME MIX / one shot. ☆♡

Adam is the new addition to the Guardians. Despite your disliking for him after what he caused, Rocket helps both to get along together.

YOUR PORTRAIT / one shot. ♡

Your sketchbook is very special, as you keep special memories and drawings of your friends and things you find fascinating, among them, there is Adam.

CAUGHT / one shot. ★

Apparently, Adam has no idea of what 'keep it a secret' means. That or he decides to ignore it.

CATCH FEELS / one shot. ♡

You're very happy seeing Thor again after your ways parted. Adam is not sure he's liking the god of thunder's visit.

PERV!ADAM HEADCANON / headcanon. ★

ADAM ADJUSTING TO HIS NEW LIFE / headcanon.

Some headcanons about Adam adjusting to his new life as a Guardian.

TALOS (CAPTAIN MARVEL)

TRUST / one shot. ☆♡

Barely learning about the Skrulls living among humans, you know deep down Earth is a dangerous place for them. Talos doesn't think the same.

NOT MEANT TO BE / one shot. ☆♡

Talos survived to Gravik's attack. Now you are taking care of him after he inexplicably left you years ago.

LOKI

FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS / one shot. ☆♡

Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

WOLVERINE/LOGAN HOWLETT

ESCAPADE / drabble. ★

For a weekend, you and Logan decide to travel away from the school. Needless to say, you can't keep your hands off each other.

FINE / one shot. ☆

It is hard for Logan to overcome and swallow everything that is happening right now, and you, a former professor at the long gone school, are the only company he can get. You could leave anytime, any day. Instead, you always decide to stay. Tonight is no different, and he finally accepts it feels better to stay in your arms. Old Man!Logan.

HAPPY MISTAKE / two shot. ☆★

Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

PRIMAL / one shot. ★

You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind. Weapon X!Logan. Heavy non-con warnings.

CLAWS AND SHIELD / soldier boy and wolverine x reader. ★

Logan, Ben, and you sharing a motel room. That's it, that's the fic.

[petitepatateuwu]

Yesterday, I opened some old sketchbooks (from last summer) and took some ideas from me in the past.

Back then, I was still struggling to draw turtles and I accidentally made sakura flower petals at the end of Mikey's mask. I wanted to explore this concept more, but my character design skill were non-existent, so I gave up.

But now that I have learned a bit more,

Behold

Sakura Mikey!

Excuse my terrible english on this page I don't really like writing 😞

I really like this little guy, and I think I'm gonna make an A.U. out of it. (and by "I think" I mean "I've already been doing a shit-ton of research").

I'm gonna call it

"Guardians"

Edit: I actually can't take the cringe for this, so untill I change my mind for the name, it's gonna be Silly Goofy Fruity Bois because I can handle that cringe 👍

Now I'm going to yapp about the story:

In this universe, Mickey and the others are spirits, each one connected to a tree. They are supposed to protect and maintain their tree, as they are its personal guardian.

Not only that, they also carry different wishes or thoughts from living beings, the ones that gave them life, and most of the time, shape their personnality.

Sakura Mikey is a newborn spirit who seems to know nothing of his very nature. The three other turtles found him wandering away from his sakura tree, and decided to teach him what he needs to know, despite the three of them having trouble getting along.

But if there is something that Mikey knows, is that he wants all of them to become a family. And nothing is going to stop him from trying.

Okay, I've rewritten this text five times now and I really don't like to write like that, so tell me if there is something you don't understand. This isn't something that has a whole plot planned ahead, just a chill activity to rest my mind when I'm too burned out by school, so the story may be unconsistent.

[cloudycaffeinatedcryptid]

What do you think each of the hacketteer's most cherished personal belonging is?

thank you for the ask, i love Making Up Things About My Blorbos hours. this really makes me think bc everyone bonds with such different things for random reasons. i've had a rock on my bookshelf for 7+ years bc a friend from a volunteer group found it for me & i like the way it looks. so it's always so different. still, i'll try

Jacob's for sure is some sort of lucky charm that he hangs from the rearview mirror of his truck, that he has one hundred percent belief in. i can't decide what it is - a horseshoe or rabbits foot or something else - but he thinks he's invincible with that thing

Kaitlyn will take it to her grave, but hers is her half of the tacky "best friends" necklace Jacob got for them when they were little, and no one will ever find out. she keeps it hidden but she still keeps her half, even tho she's sure Jacob didn't keep his (he did, it's buried in his sock drawer)

Nick, if you ask him, will say it's his pocketwatch - passed down through his father's side, it's a family heirloom, y'know? but he can't read analog clocks for shit & he has no idea what he's going to do with this watch. truthfully, it's a pair of limited edition Heelies signed by a local musician that he got when he was twelve. he's keeping those babies till the value skyrockets

Abi has her sketchbook, obviously, & probably many more that she's filled up over the years, but she has this cat mug with a chip in one ear that she's had for years & she loves with all her heart. comfort mug <3

Ryan loves his earbuds & probably has a lot of things he keeps for Reasons but i choose to believe his sister writes him letters every time he goes to camp & he keeps every single one of them tucked away in his room for when he needs them

Emma enjoys having all of her things. she loves stuff. she has lots of rings & earrings & bangles she thinks are cute, she has a box full of scrapbooking supplies, three different wax melters that she liked the designs of. but her favorite thing is a little music box she found at a flea market a long time ago, with a beat up little ballerina figure, that she keeps all her most sentimental items in. the love note with the strawberry-scented sticker she got in fourth grade. a gumball machine ring she got with her best friend in middle school. her first ever concert ticket

Dylan loves things. his necklace that he never lets us see, Schrodinger's baby teeth & old collar, weird or cool coins he finds while out. pretty much everything has emotional value to him. but he has a little wolf figurine that's scratched, beat up - he's owned it forever, barely remembers where he got it. but it sits right next his computer & he swears it keeps all his equipment running. he begs it for mercy whenever his computer starts to crash. he calls it His Royal Furriness, Lord Wolfington

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Haley Lu Richardson

full name: Stevie May Lane

nickname(s) / goes by: Stevie, Ms.Lane, Mama

pronouns & gender: Cis woman & She/Her

sexuality: Heterosexual

birth date: August 14th, 1995

birth place: Waco, Texas

arrival to merrock: Arrived in November of 2023

housing: small house in the suburbs that she rents

occupation: Sixth grade English teacher 

work place: Merrock Junior High

family: Elijah Jaxon Lane (July 8th, 2013), Joshua Lane (Cousin), Mom & Adopted Father in Texas

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Stevie is sunshine personified. She’s seen around town with her sketchbook. Always willing to help, if she has the time. She’s the one who always has a book in her bag, and hosts the weekly silent book hour at the library. The coveralls that fit over her hips, doodles on her converse and bandanas in her hair showcase just how her style is. She would do anything for her son, and if that means be snarky, you bet she’ll be snarky. She would give up her own world to make sure her son has everything in his. Stevie is caring and considerate. 

WRITTEN BY: Kay (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: pregnancy, bullying

Stevie May Lane was born in San Antonio, Texas on a beautiful and hot summer day. Stevie grew up in Waco, Texas. A small city in between Dallas and San Antonio. She grew up in an easy household. Her mother being a stay-at-home mom, and her father was a lawyer. She was a good kid in school, gravitating more towards the artsy kids. She liked getting her hands dirty. Being able to sculpt, or draw, or paint was her favorite pastime. Stevie was about 16 when she found papers in her mothers drawers while she was looking for a pair of shoes, claiming that her father was not her real father and that he adopted her at the age of one. That had immediately put a divide in their relationship. Stevie was hurt and confused as to why they had never said anything. She became someone who’d stay out all night, getting high with some friends. When she was just about to graduate high school, Stevie found herself pregnant at eighteen. Her family wasn’t the most supportive when it came to Elijah, her beautiful baby boy. But she fell in love. Her parents kicked her out and she did her best to try and make ends meet by selling some of her artwork online. She did her best going to college with a newborn, but it was almost impossible. Online classes, a lot of coffee and energy drinks, late nights studying and feeding, and night classes where she could have friends watch her child became the norm. Graduating from Baylor University in Waco, Texas, she became a middle school teacher. Elijah being the sole reason for her to continue pursuing a degree, and job. He is the one person in her life that she would do anything for. And that meant doing everything in her power to make him happy. Thus, moving. 

After finding out from the local gossip mill in Waco that her son was getting bullied, she decided it was time to leave her hometown full of gossip and rude looks.  With the help of her cousin, Josh, she was able to move to Merrock. She had no idea what was in store for her in the Northeast, but she figured she’d might as well try. With the little money she was able to save over the years and having her ten year old child in tow, she was able to rent out a small house in the suburbs. She took over a position in the junior high as an english teacher and has gotten Elijah into school, and even flag football where he exceeds expectations. As an almost twenty-nine year old mom, she’s starting over. It’s been over six months of them finally able to settle in. They adopted a cat named Button, Elijah has made some friends, They’ve been able to get to know their family, and have finally found their footing in this cute little town. 

[postapocalypticcatbrat]

art journeys are so strange. the fuckers in my head don't make it any less strange. I've been drawing since i was a kid, just never stopped and now that's what I'm in college for. I'm cleaning my room. I found all my old sketchbooks, i don't remember half any of it nor the order they go in. only some pages have dates. my headmate could ID some late highschool stuff, mainly because that's when we got into a game that genuinely improved our life. our mom (genuinely a shit mom) banned us from fanart back in middle school i think.

but then there's fanart of beloved characters that i still hold dear, yet there's some downright primal fear around those drawings. and it makes me wonder how much did our mom fuck up our art journey. i wonder who remembers how our mom reacted to the fanart of two guys holding hands, the drawing of a demon guy in a dress. there's no more fashion drawings after that.

i graduated highschool the same year i found my favorite video game, a game my mom never knew i adored, i also got into zelda at that time, but my mom knew of that. i was also in ap 2d art at that time. my art teacher said to hide my art style, it was "too anime" in her words. my art looks so stagnant until i started sketching my favorite game's antagonist.

my childhood friend entered my life again after graduating highschool. they got to be the first one to hear about my favorite game and the first to see the first fanart i did of it.

college started and i was in art appreciation, the teacher encumbered me to go into the art department. I'm glad i listened to her.

but before that i had winter break. some traumatic shit happened during it so I'll spare the details, but i used my favorite game as a coping mechanism and drew it to stay calm. even with the bad memories connected to the drawings from then, i still actually like them.

school started back and i entered drawing 1, the teacher is a kind lady, she's from Ukraine, she also teaches printmaking. entering her class was a weird time. my mom got sick, no longer fully controlling me, i just discovered my system (or well, the words for it), the main fucker who deals with school now showed up (I'll call them 'C', they are here alot), and an abusive friendship ended. it was alot.

my time in drawing class had me draw a portrait of soneone by memory, i had chosen that childhood friend. it was the first time in our memories that there was a sense of pride in a portrait. god it was awful looking, but it was them, C was proud of it. i don't they ever showed our friend, oh well.

drawing class was amazing. the teacher still is amazing, we're taking printmaking 2 next semester with her. she encouraged trying new things, framed as "seeing new horizons" rather than "leaving your comfort zone" but she also wanted everyone to do things they liked. we did character illustration, C designed a group of characters for one class and decided to use those characters in our drawing final, a large 3 piece series.

those drawings look almost 3d, the characters were cut out and taped onto a drawn background, layered to have deep shadows. it doesn't look that good, but it's interesting, it even had the teacher encourage us to try making pop ups. C indeed tried that suggestion. and they liked it, the mix of art and engineering made C find it enjoyable.

i wonder why no other teacher before was as encouraging as her. why was it always to hide, not embrace.

now i sew. cosplay was something we've loved for years, but now we see how much our mom controlled us with it. i finally sewn a part of a cosplay from scratch. why was i not allowed to do that before is something C and I wonder now. C wore that costume to a convention, it was of the antagonist for our favorite game. it's weird, it feels like we're reclaiming what was stolen from us by an abusive peice of shit mother.

we've sewn a plush, it actually was the critter that went to C's costume. it's in an artshow now. something most people think to submit master studies, still lifes, and sculpture or abstract art to. now a pokemon from a fangame is in it, I'm told it's always the artwork you're not proud of that gets into shows, but now the plushy C is so proud of is on display. it's weird.

i know if our mom was alive, she's tell us what to submit, i doubt it would have been the plushy, she probably wouldn't have let us make it.

it's still weird. sometimes i wonder how our art would look if our mom just let us do our thing. or if we never got into that game. i know our art would be very different (or more consistent lol) if we weren't a system, but that one i can answer, the others will be mysteries as long as we're on our art journey

idk, moral of the story, it gets better even if it's weird as fuck. i went from not being allowed to do anything to making a giant staff out of wood at school (with the teacher's help because my disability said no saws for me) for a cosplay. I went from not knowing anything going on and being scared to jokingly arguing with my headmates about zelda lore while doing art homework. it's weird, it's unwell, but it's better than it was and it'll keep getting better

[galaxy-m1st]

Unaffected

Chapter 2: What are you saying?

When I was 16 my grandma passed away from old age. I was devastated, but my grandpa was heartbroken. He shut down after she died and I started to take care of him. I didn't mind taking care of him, but seeing him in this state was sad. He pretty much lived in the rocking chair in the living room. All he did was watch TV all day. I think he was just trying to distract himself.

When I was 17 and in my last year of high school something weird happened.

I woke up at six in the morning to prepare for school and make breakfast for my grandpa. As I went downstairs, I noticed that the TV was on and it was playing an English channel. I felt confused and wanted to investigate, but I didn't want to disturb my grandpa who was still asleep.

Upon entering the kitchen, I was struck by the realization that everything was in English - the rice bag, the packet of seaweed, and even the mat on the floor had English words printed on them. It was an unsettling experience, and I could feel my anxiety rising. I couldn't help but wonder if I was in some kind of dream. In an attempt to calm myself down, I decided to go about my usual routine and make breakfast. However, even the act of cooking felt surreal and I found myself waiting for something to happen, half-expecting to wake up at any moment. Despite my unease, I managed to quickly whip up breakfast and pack my lunch before heading out for the day. On my way to school, everyone was talking in English and all the signs were in English. This is a dream, it has to be. Once I arrived, guess what, everything was in English. My friends were talking to each other, so I went to talk to them. I knew a little bit of English, but there was no way I could speak it fluently.

"Hi Akari," one of my friends said to me, "How are you?"

"I was fairly certain that I understood the meaning, but I hesitated to respond in English for fear of sounding foolish. Instead, I opted to reply in Japanese with "Good, and you?" She paused briefly before bursting into laughter. "What was that?" she said in a fit of giggles. "Why are being silly, you're usually so serious?"

"What do you mean?" I said while giving her a confused look.

"Yeah, you don't usually pull this type of stuff Akari," one of my other friends "It doesn't fit you very well."

"I looked back at them with confusion. I tried to convince myself that it was just a dream, but my limited English skills made it difficult to process everything. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, so I quickly said goodbye and speed-walked towards school."Once I made it to the classroom I took a seat in the back so I could think in peace. When class started I barely understood a word the teacher was saying. Today was going to be a long day. I made it through the day without being called on. Thank the lord above for that.

The day was long, but a blur. Hopefully, a good night's rest was all I needed. I am trying to be optimistic here. On my way home I picked up some groceries. I didn't say a word to anyone. It may seem rude, but they understand what I am going to say anyway, so it is either be rude or be judged. I would prefer not everyone look at me like I'm crazy, even though I feel like it right now.

As soon as I entered my house, bags of groceries in hand, I felt a sense of relief. I quickly put away the groceries before tending to my homework. I tried my best, but after a few minutes of attempting to complete it, I gave up. Frustrated and in need of a distraction, I picked up a sketchbook and started to draw. The sound of pencil on paper was soothing, and I lost track of time as I mindlessly sketched. It wasn't until my stomach grumbled that I realized I had been drawing for hours. With a deep sigh, I put down the sketchbook and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I made something quick and easy. I gave my grandpa his dinner and ate mine. We ate in silence like usual. After I finished, I did the dishes before heading up to bed. Today was long, so I didn't mind going to bed a little early. I fell asleep pretty easily and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up at six again and went downstairs hoping everything was normal again. It wasn't. The TV was still in English. I sighed and started to make breakfast. I was trying to think why this was happening. I couldn't think of a logical explanation for this. I don't know what to do now. I couldn't just tell them that everyone I knew forgot Japanese overnight. They would send me to a mental institute.

In the morning, while contemplating the possible explanations for the unexplainable scenario, I took a break to attend to my grandpa. I prepared and served him his breakfast, ensuring he had everything he needed. After that, I made my lunch for school. Once I finished, I set out to school. The walk was calming, and I enjoyed observing the sights and sounds of the neighborhood. Soon enough, I reached my school campus, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day's challenges. To my surprise, I heard someone talking in Japanese. I ran over to the voice to find a boy with orange hair. He was yelling at his friend to stop talking in English. He continues to panic when nobody seems to understand what he is saying.

A man in a suit comes up behind him with a taser and I run towards him.

"Watch out!" I yell. He looks at me before he gets tased by the man and passes out. The man in the suit then looks at me and tells to other men to get me too. They charge at me and I do the only logical thing anyone would do in this scenario. I run. I run outside the school's walls and into the street. They are very fast and catch me in a couple of seconds. One of them holds me in place while the other approaches me with a taser, then everything is black. 

[class-of-86]

dating will byers (male readers) <3

will is mlm, so this is for any male readers. love u all, muah. we need more representation for mlm will byers.

• will was too shy to make the first move

• when he first moved to california, you decided to help him out and get him settled in school.

• you showed him around the school, you see him sneaking you nervous glances

• his cheeks were pink and his hands were shaking slightly

• you were an oblivious motherfucker

• when alone in the art room, you came up in front of him and took his hands in yours

• “hey, it’s going to be okay. starting a new school is scary but i’ll be with you every step of the way” you told him, hoping to comfort him

• you SWORE you saw his soul leave his body

• after talking to your friends about it, they swore up and down he had a massive crush on you

• “what? me? no way.” you denied

• but then you started thinking about it as the day went on

• it hit you like a truck.

• you had second period art with him.

• you decided to make a small move. you took a seat next to him and started making subtle moves.

• he caught on pretty fast, desperately trying to flirt back but failing miserably (he was too nervous)

• you asked him to come over to your house to hang out that day

• he came over, you could tell he was nervous but really really excited when you opened the door.

• that cute grin and how he couldn’t keep his hands still, he kept tapping his foot and you could tell he was messing with his hair in the reflection of the window outside.

• you told him you liked DND, so he brought all of his old DND books & his old campaign planning notebooks

• the notebooks were filled, you read through them and his handwriting was so..pretty.

• he wrote in gorgeous cursive, it almost looked fake it was so perfect.

• you complimented him on it, you could see him getting flustered and he kept messing with his hands, refusing eye contact.

• once he got comfortable, he was a chatterbox.

• he talked about everything: his mom, his brother, hid brothers best friend, painting, his sister, DND, school, his old town, and some kid named mike (you didn’t like him that much already from what will had told you )

• after awhile, will was insanely comfortable around you.

• “i haven’t felt this close with anyone really since mike.” he told you, you cringed at the mention of mike tbh.

• one day after he went home after a full day of hanging out..

• you saw that he left his sketchbook.

• you knew it was probably bad to do..but you looked through it.

• you found a drawing of you, it was so detailed and his skills were amazing.

• you looked so..handsome in the drawing. did he really see you like this?

• then you noticed a little folded piece of paper in the back of the book.

• curiosity got the best of you.

• you unfolded it and read it.

• it was a love letter to you.

• “y/n, the best day of my life will always be when you came up to me and talked to me for the first time. a cautious glance, a calculated smile, my heart fluttering with anticipation and admiration. though it seemed unthinkable at the time, something tells me this was a moment of destiny. i wasn’t just meeting a handsome stranger, i was meeting the boy who was destined to love me. i was meeting the boy who would become my dearest and closest friend and my deepest and strongest desire..”

• the rest seemed unwritten, maybe like he ran out of pen ink or like he had to do something else before finishing it.

• you felt your face get pink and the butterflies swarm in your stomach.

• you looked up, seeing will standing in the doorway.

• “i forgot my sketchbook..” he trailed off towards the end of his sentence.

• you walked up to him, staring at him in the eyes.

• you took his left hand in yours, and you cupped his face with your right hand.

• you leaned in towards his face.

• his lips were so close to touching yours.

• you clashed your lips onto his, the kiss seeming to last forever.

• he held onto your left hand until his knuckles were turning white.

• you could feel his pulse pounding.

• will was in shock, his face was bright red and you could tell he was flustered.

• “i love you.” was all he could muster up, it came out in a mumble

• you chuckled, your right hand still cradling his face.

• “i love you more, byers.” you lightly laughed as you went in for another kiss.

[peachywritesstuff]

Dating Marko Would Include....

First time writing for my favorite lost boy. I'm so excited. Warning, long asf

Love Language being biting. Oh come in, you really expect Marko to keep his hands and fangs to himself?

Is romantic believe it or not. Behind the violent/ tough image people see him be is a sweet man

Getting close to Paul since him and Marko are besties.

Being slightly intimadated by David (but then again who isn't?)

Keeps you as far away from Max as possible.

And of course Star tries to warn you about the boys it's sweet that she cares enough but you tell her you know what your getting into.

Is very wild, hyper and fun to be around but he doesn't mind being more calm and chill with you. It's actually is one of his things; he would cuddling you in his nest at the cave than causing mischief on the borderwalk any day.

The dates consist of sneaking into places like the movies, going on rides, visiting your or his favorite restaurants, graffiti random places(that's Markos favorite thing to do)

It doesn't matter if what you draw/graffiti is a stick person, Marko will say you are better than Leonardo DaVinci ☺️

Likes to watch you do simple things. You have his full attention anytime you are around. He will just lean on a wall or something and just watch you be you and just falls even more in love.

Is like a proud dad when you meet his pigeons and is even more happy when they start to like you and fly to you when your in the cave.

Will send you notes via pigeon so you become accustomed to the sight of a pigeon tapping it's beak on your bedroom window.

Is an artsy person so 9 times out of 10 when he pulls out his sketchbook he draws you-and half of the time he doesn't tell you that he has. Just let's you find out for yourself.

Makes your heart skip a beat seeing the way your vampire boyfriend draws you.

The first time you let him draw you naked is a very intimate thing which leads to very soft and romantic sex.

Gives you Spiderman kisses. (another one of his favorite things to do)

You can just be sitting on the couch and then here comes Marko flying upside down in front of you with a cheeky smile on his face.

Is very observant despite his wild nature. He just can understand you without speaking at all.

Is your bodyguard tbh.

Let's say him and the boys have to go feed leaving you alone for a little bit and some surf nazi bothers you. You don't know how but he always appears right before the surf nazi tries to lay his hands on you. Just poof! magic Werid vampire ablilties ig.

Definitely knows when your trying to hide something, he says it's his vampire intuition.

Knows you better than you know yourself.

Likes to steal gifts for you big and small things. If he sees you staring at something in a store- don't bother even trying to speed your money. You'll have it before the night is over with

You got blackout curtains so he can sleep over during the day. He just lays on your chest sleeping soundly and whines when you get up.

The sex is absolutely amazing. He knows your body, knows how to make you cum, knows how to make you squirt and by the end of it all you can't walk 😉

This boy has the highest sexdrive you have ever seen.

The moment the old hickeys and bite marks disappear is when you get new ones 😏

Yes yes being in a relationship with Marko is amazing....

But not everything is sunshine and peaches.

Marko's temper gets the best of him sometimes which results into a lot of fights because of it.

Can be hot and cold sometimes

At the beginning of yalls relationship he had the tendency to go MIA for a few days ( you can decide whether this is before you found out there secret or after) and it would make you worried.

Yall talked about it and he promises not to do it anymore.

Jealousy knows Marko well

Sometimes it can get in the way when you run into a guy friend from your high school

The arguments can differ. It could be you yelling and Marko giving you the silent treatment or if it's bad enough both of you will have a screaming match at Paul or the other boys have to break yall apart.

Marko would never lay his hands on you no matter how angry he is. He has a sneaky suspension that the boys think he will which makes him even more angrier because you are his sun, his other half,- he loves you so much and too much that it hurts to think of him hurting you.

But back on topic

That type of argument can leave yall not talking for days

Marko is stubborn there is no doubt about that. So he can totally go days without talking and just pretend like you don't exist.

Which hurts you a lot

If you made him mad it will be even harder to talk to him since he just ignores you.

If he made you mad then two can play at that game, if he tries to talk to you you will give him the same energy he gives you.

Now he knows how it feels.

When yall do make up(it depends on the level of the argument) sometimes Paul will make yall make up.

Claiming how he is tried of Marko sulking and shit

But when yall do make up yall kind of just cry?

Like days without talking can pile up tons of guilt for both sides of the argument, no matter who was in the right or who was in the wrong.

And Marko ain't the one to really cry like that.

But he just does because you don't deserve the way he treats you.

He thinks to himself that he doesn't deserve you at all.

That you deserve someone who doesn't have a temper or anger issues.

But you remind him that you love him just the way he is.

And after one peculiar argument he decides that maybe some things should change

So he tries to be better

You notice this and the boys notice this as well

Even Max did.

You do the same, try to be better at things if you seen it was doing more bad to you and Marko's relationship then good.

The relationship is isn't perfect by any means

But both of you wouldn't want it any other way.

[madfantasy]

Dear Blogging

Hope ur doing well🍀

When I realise my updates are futher apart in time, it makes me sad. I don't have much new to say, I am in the same trance following no time yet feeling every passing second. In progress that I can't feel because of how much I'm used to pain and nothingness. I am okay, finally had the brain power to make words today, the last months were exceptionally difficult as I mentioned the unrelenting near 50° heat. And for the majority of that time I spent it without any means to cool off, which periodically made me sick and kept me in bed too long. Even more bits of my teeth broke off, rendering me unable to smile or eat without jolts of pain. My unstable network provider topping off the misery.

Since I moved to my "sunny room" I couldn't use the net I waste money on for because of the weak signal, so I had not much sources of distractions or solace. Nothing separating me from the continuous good old times; living in absolute isolation. I don't think I have online connections anymore and wouldn't blame anyone for forgetting me. I'm sorry, I feel absolutely disconnected, I don't know what I want or what to do or how to dare be involved. And in all honesty, I am functioning on 1% energy spent on drawing..

I was trying to have a goal to compete that, to keep my faith up and have hope and project it. Wanting a red and black room was one, but I gave up on it because I didn't have enough work to afford it, and really the experience of buying stuff online only to find the advertised color was a lie, specially if its red was a huge waste of time and money. And my guardians fed up with me asking them to return things, ungraciously. I liked my room eventually

After prolonged periods of depression, I found myself longing for my traditional art, flicking through my old diary. I craved to return able to draw on paper again, and the few times I tried, memories, good and bad gushed through. Relived again how it was to draw in secret and to love things you are constantly told are not for you or called it not natural and be punished severely for.. just made me cry over how culture always just hurt for the sake of hurting and uses religion as a loose cape, mourning them using it to exclude while it was something aimed to be harmonious with all and they never focus on being actual good people over keeping appearances.. for the longest time making me wonder if something was actually wrong with me beyond just being different than them.. now there's plethora of mental things thanks to their abuse. Starting with my inability to look at people without feeling quick to panic discomfort. Making me see this isolation as they say, a "blessing in disguise ". I don't know how to take that as, tbh, I still to this day get nightmares of when I used to live in big houses with multiple families, or the endless schools I went to.

I started drawing on paper bit by bit. The minute I find myself overwhelmed I stop. With time I felt I can enjoy it again, and recalled all what passer through my mind as kid, how I fantasised of owning the chunkiest coloring tin or the thickest drawing paper. So decided to get sketchbooks and notebooks and try everything new, I didn't care

I didn't know where to start, so I got randomly selected sketchbook and one lockable journal, so I can hopefully write diary again like i used to. I show everything i get to them but already Guardians couldn't help themselves and flick though it, I didn't say anything but my inside automatically clinched and turned into an angry imp snatching to have it back, like i used to actually react when they searched my school things for doodles.

I changed the lock c:

I learned of the existence of more mechanical pencil sizes so I got every possible one, carefully not breaking my law of owning only red and black things, hehe. Also some essentials so my guardians won't comment on my spending ways. Like a tooth brush, and the best bonnet ever. I also got myself a backpack for my pen people to live in, for the longest time I wanted a shark backpack but this one just screamed Mani (it was cheaper 😝). As kid I had a red bag with snoopy's face on it, it was my literal safe zone that I carried it everywhere, pretended to travel in cardboard boxes with and had many garbage things stored in it that ment something dear to me, already that blissful feeling is regenerated when i wore it. And hopefully next month I get work to buy colors..

I got my eyes on those atm

(Also something funny, I can promise you I got the talk about devil worship from them for getting horns, and here's the thing; they know about the actual sketchy devil worship practices, its a common knowledge in our surroundings. To me, having red horns it felt Mani like, style euphoria, I love being a polite naughty gentlethem and that spoke of it clearly to me so I didn't care too much)

I also in my careless defiance rush, bought a shoulder- abaya that resembles more of a cloak, to me at least. To help dim my dysphoria even for the tiniest bit and maybe give me one point of courage to want to go out when possible. 'Cause the only thought i have when I'm out is absolute fear, or brain blanking out on me and i freeze in my place

I was stressed for so long that they might fight me on it because they never allowed me to wear but the cover ups of their choice from the dark ages, one I could not walk in or see where I was headed in (i actually wear glasses to see), but I presented it to them and I don't think they noticed.

Maybe now i can feel comfortable in it, throughout the years I never really adjusted to wearing it— having almost no occasion to leave the house 3/4 of my life. It was never something i felt connected to, been only a reminder of pure shame and embarrassment. From the very first day I started to cover my face at middle school, was forced to do that the day before, non of my guardians taught me how to wear it. And the minute it fell from my face thanks to my clumsy attempts at tying it, my face was welcomed with— not the fresh air and 4k sight clarity, but a slap that knocked me back into the car. Followed by an entire hysterical berating, calling me a sl*t and what have you, for everyone who was dropping their kids to see and hear.

I didnt know it at the time, but i was also mocked of how I wore it many times by my peers, while some took petty on me and dressed me themselves. I merely envied those foreign students who wore it just to follow the school rules and offed it the minute they got into their cars to leave. I still have no answer to what I truly want, and thats okay..

I forgot to mention how they can be super pricy, so I got the cheapest I could, resulting it being thick, strings jutting everywhere, way too big on me and all of its buttons fell. So I had to do some long hem shortenings and buttons sewing, I think I started to like it

I now just need someone to hold my hand and never let go, to take me to the hospital and hypothetically be my voice till mine return... manifesting

Oh and i did drew alot of snarry cuz it was my only cure during this time of dissociative routine, ofc endless of sketches that did not make it and 2 did, and still more to come hopefully when I continue to feel better

I wish you all the best in this world my dears, your burdens ease and your heart beats with your desires met , mani loves you ❤️‍���🍀🕊🙏

24.6.2022