#i drew these several months apart

[molekel]

“Just wait, I will get this stupid climber up again!” - “hbgrlbrghlbrbhllrkrjlhgrrrr!!!”

Yoshi can’t climb, but that does not mean Simon will leave him behind for forever!

[salad-storm]

put them in dresses. dunno what prompted this. 

[mariasont]

hi!! I have a spencer reid x fem!reader request, how about emily plotline but it's spencer instead of emily and reader totally falls apart after she thinks he died, to the point of self-destructive behaviors. she simply can't cope. i totally understand if you're not comfortable with writing something like that, though.

i hope you're having a great day <3

Beyond the Grave - S.R

a/n: angellllll thank you so much for requesting !!!!!! <3 i hope you have the BEST day ever!

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: angst, spencer dead for a hot sec then he's not, reader using alcohol to cope, weight loss briefly mentioned, unhealthy coping methods, happy ending!

wc: 1.7k

The knocks were there again, a stubborn sound you chose to ignore as you smothered yourself with your pillow. You willed yourself to drown out the noise and fall back asleep, to forget that your existence now had shrunk to the four corners of your mattress--a fact that didn't necessarily bring you any pride.

When it first happened, you were in a constant state of disbelief. The harsh truth that Spencer had died, leaving a void that you were powerless to fill, seemed to a cruel joke. You found yourself caught in an endless loop of denial, half-expecting him to stroll through the door or wake up to the realization that this was all just a bad dream.

But that never happened so you spent your days imprisoned in your own home, a shell of your former self, devoid of anything that once animated your being. You distanced yourself from everything that once brought you happiness--your family, your friends, your gardening.

You had just introduced Spencer to it a couple months before it happened--when to plant each flower, how to prepare the soil, the schedule of watering. But now it all felt very meaningless, and the once-tended garden became a forgotten space, overgrown and disregarded.

Each morning at work, you were met with a twisting, angry sickness--a gnawing reaction to the collective failure of everyone in that room. You had all let him down, and now the weight of never seeing his smile again was a blade that kept twisting deeper. It was excruciating.

The blow landed on you with a severity that others seemed spared from. You couldn't simply erase the memory and move on. It wasn't an option; it was etched into your very being, monopolizing every thought and sensation.

The team had attempted to piece you back together, but eventually, their help felt like a stabbing reminder. You were beyond repair, a lost cause--you skipped meals, you never slept, you drank too much. With every look in the mirror, you saw the reflection of someone slowly crumbling away. 

Finally, you were angry, a scalding feeling that spread through your veins. You were furious at Spencer leaving you, at the unsub for taking him away, and at yourself for failing to save him, for arriving too late, for watching him struggle against the knife, for watching him disappear into surgery and not come out.

The incessant knocking persisted, an annoyance that finally drew you from your bed. Your limbs were heavy with sleep, a thick haze still clouding your mind. You dragged yourself toward the door, a string of mental curses directed at the uncivilized disturber--likely Penelope with her usual invites for a girl's night out.

But as you swung the door open, the familiar world upended itself, flipped around, and splatted to the bottom of the universe. Dryness clung to your throat, your hands rendered numb at your sides.

And there he was--Spencer, not a ghost, not a figment conjured by your overwrought imagination, but flesh and blood--alive. You fought the urge to pinch yourself. You questioned your sanity briefly, but those eyes--his eyes--were indelibly seared in your memory. You would know them anywhere.

You can't breathe, can't form coherent thoughts. This moment is the very one you've replayed in your dreams, a thousand different ways, and now that it's tangibly here, you can't breathe.

Spencer's heart squeezed at the sight of you. Your eyes were swollen and tinged with the redness as if you'd been crying or just woken up or both. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just shy above your shoulders. You face was washed and hollowed out; the color sapped away as if the sun had become a stranger to you.

"Hey," his voice floated to you, soft as though he was worried you might vanish at any louder sound.

A hesitant hand reached out, trembling as if half-expecting it to pass right through him. But when your fingers brushed against his--solid and warm--reality intensified to an almost unbearable degree, too visceral to be anything but real. 

"B-But you're dead," you choke out, a tremor in each syllable. Your fingers find their way to your lips, the ground seeming to spin in a disorienting whirl. "Spencer, I watched you die."

"Can I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer, stepping around you into the room. His eyes swept over the cluttered space--the litter of empty alcohol bottles, the stacks of dirt dishes. His heart plummeted, a sinking stone to the pit of his stomach.

One of the first things he noticed about you was your near-compulsive need for keeping things clean, orderly. Your desk had been organized to an almost surgical degree, and Morgan took a secret pleasure in disrupting your system, shifting your pens just to get a reaction. But Spencer had memorized the exact coordinates of your things and discreetly corrected each item before you could notice.

So, this, the sight of your neglected home was something he never thought he'd see.

"Maybe we should sit?" Spencer suggested, more firmly. "I have explanations for everything."

With a nod, you make you way to the couch. His gaze lingers on you, taking in the way the clothes that once hugged you, now draped over your frame in loose folds. He noted the strained swallow, the constant bobbing of your knee, and the startled wideness in your eyes, as if you weren't really sure how to process the sudden influx of information.

He told you everything--why he faked his death, what he had been doing this whole time, why it wasn't Hotch's fault for keeping it from you, and why you had to be kept in the dark. 

His expectations hadn't included you jumping up and down at the sight of him, but the coldness he encountered caught him off guard. Brows knitted downward, knees angled away as if his presence was unbearable, you offered no words when he spoke, an occasional vacant look washing over your features.

"Did you even think of me once, or was I out of sight, out of mind?"

The words surprised him, your tone casual, but your balled fists resting on your knees betrayed you.

"I never stopped thinking of you," Spencer's response was immediate, his hand reaching towards yours.

But you recoiled immediately, shaking your head.

"No, no," you stammered out, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to speak. "You can't just...leave me and come back and act as if... as if...it's all okay."

Your voice broke with every word and so did his heart.

With a quick motion, you're on your feet, nearly tripping over the disorder that's invaded your space. Spencer's instinct is to reach out, to steady you, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, standing to follow your movements. "I didn't have a choice. Believe me, if there was any other way, I'd never have left. I couldn't--"

He paused, a hand brushing through his hair as he blew out a breath.

"But that's just it, Spencer, I don't believe you," you snap, voice trembling with indignation. "You were my best friend, the one person I relied on, and you disappeared."

He started to speak, but you took a step back holding your hand out to stop him. 

"No, you died Spencer. I went to your funeral. I stood over your grave, and now you're here." Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you turned away, hiding your face. "How can you just stand there after all of that?"

Spencer moves closer. "You're being unfair," he says cornering you against the wall. "Why are you being like this?"

His eyes search yours, probing for an explanation, and you give it to him, raw and unfiltered.

"Why am I being like this? Maybe because I'm in love with you."

Spencer's steps falter, retreating as if struck. 

"Oh, come on, don't act so surprised," you blurt out, already wishing you could take back the words. "I know you know." You're rambling now. "I mean, in team briefings I always save you a seat, in meetings I'm always the first one to back your theories, and for crying out loud I got you a copy of the first edition of On the Origin of Species by Darwin for your birthday, like do you know how hard that was to find? What platonic friend would--"

Your admissions pour out unchecked until Spencer's hands are on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours, stopping the flow of your confessions. 

Your breath hitches, a startled sound muffled by Spencer's mouth, a rush of surprise coursing through you. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, but as quickly as it comes, it fades into a warmth that blooms deep in your chest, and you're kissing him back with a desperation that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The world narrows down to the sweet pressure of his mouth moving with careful ease against yours, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling with the soft strands as you melt into him. 

You pull back just enough to see his eyes, your breaths mingling, foreheads still touching, softly panting. 

"I'm still so upset with you," you whisper, your eyes glistening. 

Spencer's hands are soft on your skin, brushing away the tear. "I know. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You nibble on your lower lip and give a small nod. Spencer responds by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Promise?" you ask, heart in your throat. "I don't want you to leave me again."

You had never felt so vulnerable. 

"Promise," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of his words setting in. In a moment of boldness, you reach up to trace the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. 

Spencer's eyes soften, and he whispers, "By the way, I love you too. From the very first moment I saw you."

It's like a key turning a lock. You don't say anything, you don't need to. The silence is enough--the quiet understanding that you'll heal, you'll grow, just like the garden waiting for your return.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[oneshotnewbie]

Saw an tiktok, and I need YOU to write me a fanfiction about please 🙏 "You've wasted my fucking time. Why are you here?" & "I don't know! Hit me if that makes you feel better!" and then Reader punches them, and the team is kinda proud. Station 19 / Carina x Maya please 💚

- 🎈

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑛 ♥

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19, 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡

ᕚ---ᕘ

Sirens blared through the streets of Seattle as the Station 19 fire engine screeched around the corner. In the middle of the loud and chaotic hustle and bustle, you, the young firefighter on this team, sat with your heart pounding and a knot in your stomach. You had already been on numerous missions in the last few months, but this mission was different and more difficult than anything you had experienced before.

You were the youngest on the team, the newcomer, fresh out of the fire academy. You felt the pressure on you every time you slipped into your protective gear and made your way to the scene. But today that pressure seemed unbearable.

Sean Beckett, an actual experienced firefighter and team leader, gave the commands. His tone was harsh, but something about him was off. You saw it in his appearance, his looks and felt it in your gut that something was wrong. But what you didn't realized was that you would end up in a situation that would spiral out of control.

As you entered the burning multi-story building, you were hit with instant heat and the smoke made it hard to see. Sean gave instructions, but they sounded wrong, confusing. He repeated them several times, slurring every other word and often took routes around instead of getting to the point. You hesitated, but you couldn't stop following the instructions. You had to follow them so as not to rob the team of security and you trusted the decades of experience and authority of your team leader. But Sean Beckett hadn't told you that the floor you were in was already in danger of collapsing before the fire. Even though he had well-known beforehand.

Suddenly, part of the ceiling on the third floor collapsed and the fire spread rapidly. You ducked tot he side and were torn apart from your team. In the midst of the chaos, you also briefly lost your bearings. When your vision was clear again and the mixture of smoke and dust had cleared, you noticed a wildly waving hand fighting for your attention in the corner, calling for help.

"Captain, the ceiling collapsed and I was separated from the others. I suffered no injuries but I did spot a civilian that I am heading towards now." you said, running to save the person. But as you got closer, you realized it was too late. The man was severely trapped under a larger piece of concrete and the fire had already spread onto the walls where he was buried next to. You tried desperately to remove the mass from him but it was hopeless - you would never get the concrete block off him on your own.

You heard muffled screams behind you. Maya, Jack and Andy looked for you, but you couldn't leave, you were now trapped by the fire that had spread around you. The flames drew closer and you knew you were in danger. "Beckett, I'm stuck. The flames have trapped me, I need help."

But there was no answer. Nothing. Only silences that came to you inexplicably. "Beckett! Are you there? I need help!" you shouted desperately, looking around in panic. You tried to face your team, screaming for their names, and at that moment the dust above you trickled before the other part of the ceiling collapsed on you.

Everything went black and for a moment you thought this was the end. But then you heard your team's voices once again, this time closer and felt the slow shaking of the ground. Steps. Before hands grabbed you. You were pulled from the rubble.

As you looked around, briefly sitting down on one of the blocks to take a deep breath, you saw the worried faces of your colleagues. Andy stood there, her face marred by smoke and ash. She was limping as she pulled you up to get you back on your feet. "Are you okay?" She asked and you nodded silently, unable to speak.

A sudden wave of anger and self-doubt bubbled up inside you. Sean hadn't answered, had put you in danger, almost killed you because he didn't give instructions. And now a person lay dead in the rubble. The thoughts tormented you and grew stronger as the mission ended. You didn't know how to deal with it. But you promised yourself that you would hold Sean accountable for yourself and for everyone else on the team who was put in danger by him.

The smell of smoke and burnt materials still lingered in your hair as the team returned to the station. The operation had been disastrous and the mood was depressed. You felt especially worn out after almost losing your own life and those of others due to false commands given by Sean Beckett or his failure to respond at all.

The team gathered in the locker room to remove equipment and discuss the day's events. You sat quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor, while the others engaged in tired conversation and licked their wounds.

Finally Sean Beckett came in, his expression serious and tense. He was aware that something between him and you needed to be resolved and as he approached you, he could already feel the cold breath of anger radiating from you. "Y/n, I think we need to have a talk. In my office."

You abruptly stood up from Andy's side where you had been helping tend to her knee, your gaze locked on Sean as you confronted him in front of everyone. "Do it in front of everyone and tell them that you ignored my calls and I almost died because of it!" you spat in frustration, putting your arms under your chest before continuing. "You wasted my damn time and almost killed me. Why are you here if you can't give clear instructions?"

The words echoed in the locker room and an oppressive silence fell over the team. All eyes turned to Sean, who seemed speechless for a moment, sipping from his plastic cup before going back to proving his strength, completely off track. "I don't know! Hit me if it makes you feel better!" his voice shook and your fists clenched with emotion and pure anger.

The team froze as the situation threatened to escalate. Suddenly and unpredictably, with a look of immense frustration and determination on your face, you lunged and punched him in the face. A thud filled the cabin, followed by a moment of silence and the crack of the cup, its contents spilling all over the resilient flooring. Then there were loud shouts of surprise from the team, some hands of Maya and Warren holding parts of your body to pull you back.

Sean staggered back, surprised by the unexpected attack but also by the force of emotions that erupted from you. You hadn't held back, but had given free rein to your desperation. "And if you want to denounce me to the union about it, I will personally go there and tell them about you drinking on shift. Others may shy away from it because of the fear, but certainly not me."

As the excitement slowly died down and Sean pulled away without further words, Sullivan squeezed past you while Victoria still held you close, afraid that you would walk after him and smack him again, and inspected the liquid on the floor more accurate.

His fingers dipped into the brown liquid before he put them to his nose, his facial expression contorting sharply. "Whiskey. How did you know?" He asked you immediately, his gaze serious while pride nestled in his eyes. "His statements were unclear. Shy of light. Pale skin. Shaking while driving. Not to mention the stench that emanated from him just as he spoke to me."

The team realized you didn't need a protective cover and could fight your own battles. Andy had hugged you tightly from behind and spoke with a quiet smile. "You have shown that you are not only the youngest, but also one of the bravest and strongest here. We are proud of you."

You were celebrated for your authenticity and strength while feeling exhausted and relieved by the support of the team. The incident had changed something - not only in the relationship between you and your captain, but also in your self-confidence and your position within the team. You were no longer a newcomer, but a full member.

[billwidoll]

Stalker (part one)

Rafe never believed in love at first sight, he was always the biggest hater of love. But when he saw you, strolling through the streets of New York,He just fell in love with you. He saw the way you walked, the way you smiled, he thought you were perfect. And the day Rafe saw you, he was at a very important business dinner.

Your face was stuck in his head for hours, and he had to find out where you lived, what your name was, where you worked. Rafe was a millionaire, so he used his money to get hackers to find you.

It was very difficult to find a person, whose name no one knows, so Rafe dropped this hacking plan, so he decided to do it himself. Rafe went to the same place and was there waiting for you exactly The same hours you spent when he saw you for the first time. And this time he saw you again, passing by. When Rafe saw you, he had a huge smile and was proud of what he had achieved.

Rafe waited for you to pass, but he followed you surreptitiously, and this chase stopped at a finished building in New York, it was probably the house where his muse lived. Rafe had the audacity to enter the building, and take the same elevator you were in.

When he entered the elevator he could smell your sweet and addictive scent, you had such good energy. Honestly, Rafe was crazy about you, capable of doing anything for you.

"New resident?" You ask with a gentle smile on your lips.

Rafe couldn't be fascinated by your voice, you were truly perfect. And he was still very kind and pleasant.

"I...I...I'm visiting a friend" Rafe says a little off guard, because he's talking to you.

You nod, Rafe was going to start a conversation, but the elevator arrived at your apartment floor, and you left, before Rafe could talk to you. Rafe left on impulse on the same floor as your apartment, he couldn't believe he was doing all this because of you. What was it about you that made him like that

Rafe followed you more surreptitiously, as it would be very obvious if you saw him there near your apartment, but you didn't notice and that made Rafe relieved. He watched you enter your apartment, and saw that your apartment number was 234. And that number was going to be his lucky number, because to Rafe, you were his angel, and everything that represented you.

Rafe knew where you lived, and that was a good thing. For him.

2 months later

_____________________

2 memes passed and Rafe was completely involved in your life, he already knew EVERYTHING about you, if you doubt it, he knows more about your life than you do. Rafe quit his job, he didn't have to Working, he was already rich and stable, he stopped going out with friends and dating, Rafe's life only depended on you, even though you had no idea who he was.

Rafe followed you everywhere, and you didn't notice, and you rarely greeted each other "casually", for you it was normal, but for Rafe it was a dream come true. Rafe had already made several plans to infiltrate your life, and the next plan was to live in the same building you lived in. Rafe bribed the apartment's resident to leave and give the apartment to Rafe. And so he did, he was living next door to you now, Rafe was happy. And he couldn't wait, to break into your house at 00:00.

You were leaving to go to work and came across a man placing casual electronics inside your old neighbor's apartment.

"New resident?" You ask the same question you asked Rafe, but you didn't realize it was the same person.

"and...I am! My name is Drew Starkey" Rafe says, changing his name, to stop hiding it better.

You thought you had seen him, but you didn't remember. Rafe was bracing for this reaction. So he cut his hair and worked out more, getting stronger. And he was also trying to change The cold personality, he was trying to be more Nice. Because he was sure you didn't like bad boys, so he was pretending to be the good guy.

"You are very welcome, my name is Sn" you say with a huge smile on your face and raising your hand to greet him.

Rafe's heart almost jumped from skin to mouth, he was so looking forward to this.

"Thank you very much for the greetings, and your name is beautiful"

Rafe says, praising you, that's all he wanted to say to you, he just wanted to praise you. Your cheeks turn red, and since Rafe studied you for 2 months, he knew you were shy.

"thank you Drew" you say with a shy smile and Rafe wishes that smile would stay on your face forever "I'd love to keep talking to you, but I have to go to work"

You say, ending the conversation and Rafe feels sad, but he hides it.

"well...I'll see you later?" Rafe says wanting to make sure you guys would talk later.

"yes! Yes! I would love to" you say enthusiastically and Rafe notices this and he was sure you were liking him.

"that's good...I'll see you later then, right?" He says asking for confirmation.

"yes!"

_____________________

When you left for work, Rafe immediately went to try to break into your house. He used every method to unlock his door, and for the fifth time, he succeeded. And he smiled Huge when he achieved this.

He entered the apartment, and saw that it was well organized and clean, he saw several art paintings, and also several photos of himself pasted on the wall, without thinking twice, he picked up some and put them away In the pocket. He goes to his room, and smells a sweet perfume, he wanted to stay there for hours. He sits on his bed and runs his hand over your bed, he smells the sheets and it was sweet and Soft.

He goes to his drawer and looks through various things, until he finds the panties drawer, and their eyes light up. He takes several of her panties and puts them in his pocket. He smells your panties, and lies down on your bed.

Rafe stayed there the whole afternoon, he was discovering a lot more about you. Rafe looks at the clock and realizes that there are 2 minutes left until you get home from work, and he immediately puts everything in place. And I ran away from there.

Rafe goes to take a shower and make his favorite dinner, as he had told you to stop by his house earlier, and Rafe locks the door to the second bedroom of his apartment, as that was the place That were all states about you.

Rafe hears the doorbell and it was clearly you at the door, Rafe was smelling good and showered. He takes a deep breath and opens the door

"hello Sn!" He says it as if he were an angel. And you smile with that look in his eyes.

"hello Drew..." She says looking down, Rafe was very intimate with her. "I made this strawberry pie for you" you say with a smile showing the pie.

Rafe couldn't pay attention to the pie, he could only look at you, you looked beautiful. You were so delicate and it messed with Rafe's catheter.

"Can you come in please" Rafe says giving you space to enter, and you do, when you pass Rafe he smells your perfume.

"your apartment is so... organized" you say, looking around.

Rafe smiled knowing you were organized too.

"what do you expect from a 29 year old man?"

Rafe speaks referring to himself, and he wasn't 29 either, he was 30. But he was avoiding everything about his past life.

"You're 29 years old? Oh my God" you say with your mouth open and Rafe sees that the conversation is going well.

"Do I look that old to be under 30?" Rafe jokes, and you laugh.

"no, that's not what I meant, but the other way around, you understand? You look like you're 19 or 20" you say, being more Clara now and Rafe prepares another joke.

"Now you're calling me baby?" Rafe speaks again jokingly and you laugh again, both of you were loving the conversation.

"that's enough, you're impossible!" You say jokingly too and sitting on his couch, still laughing.

Rafe was also laughing, but he couldn't let the conversation die.

"and you? How many do you have?" Rafe asks, knowing exactly how old you are.

"I'm 21, surprising?" She says jokingly and Rafe laughs, shaking his head.

"No, you're too beautiful to be 84 years old"

Rafe says and you laugh at his jokes. Rafe wasn't like that, but he knew you liked people like that, so he was trying to be nicer.

"Shall we eat? I swear I did the best I could" Rafe says, creating another topic to continue the conversation.

"I promise I'll be honest" she says playfully. And Rafe was loving her every split second.

Rafe couldn't stop looking at your eyes, they were beautiful and bright, Rafe needed, needed you in his life. Sooner or later.

Rafe takes the food out of the oven, and he looks great. Rafe knew how to cook very well, when he was little, his father took him to cooking classes, ordered by Rafe's mother.

“Wow, it looks delicious”

you say looking at the frying pan that was in Rafe’s hand. You didn't expect to meet a man over 20, who knew how to cook, was kind, and had a home Organized. He was practically a Roman prince straight out of books.

"well, I hope it's pleasant, I don't want to embarrass myself around such a beautiful girl"

Rafe says praising you with a beautiful smile on His face, and your heart can't help but flutter.

"Let's eat?" Rafe says, placing the food on the table and pulling out the chair for you to sit.

He serves you the food, and you are impressed by the ring that was in Rafe's hands. The ring was large and luxurious, and it also appeared to be pure gold.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but that ring...it's so ostentatious" You ask, a little afraid, not knowing the financial situation of your new neighbor.

When Rafe hears that, his head immediately clicks, he hadn't realized that something so valuable was on his finger.

"Ah... that's... it's my family's ring, all parents give this ring to their son when he becomes an adult"

Rafe makes up this story that never happened, but the story made sense in his head.

,"oh... of course, sorry to ask, and it's so similar to those rings that the rich people in the city wear"

You explain, giving Rafe a nice smile, and Rafe was afraid that you would somehow find out that it didn't make sense for a man to have a gold ring, and live in a poor apartment in the city.

"What do you work with?" Rafe asks, trying to quickly get away from the subject of the ring, and he already knew where you worked.

"I work as a secretary, but in my spare time I make money as an artist"

you say, not very happy with the life you led, you didn't want that future, and Rafe knew that, because he knew you Better than anyone.

"I think artists are incredible, after I met Leonardo da Vinci, I simply fell in love with art"

Rafe talks while eating a piece of chicken, he understands a lot about history, references, science. Rafe was a great student. He was intelligent, and he was a 30-year-old millionaire, who had no children, he It was the guy.

"Do you know Leonardo da Vinci's paintings?" You say with your mouth open, your new neighbor was a box of surprises.

"Yes! My favorites are the last supper and Mona Lisa" Rafe says, captivating you more.

The two of you stayed talking for hours and hours. Rafe simply taught a lesson about the world. She loved the conversation. She unfortunately told you to go home, and Rafe didn't want you to go.

"I loved this dinner....it was just perfect Drew" you say, taking your coat and giving a slight smile.

That was music to Rafe's ears.

"your company was perfect" Rafe once again praised you, and you accepted it well this time, giving him a smile.

You went up to him to greet him before you left, and you went to give Rafe a kiss on the cheeks, but he turned away when you approached. And this ends up making you two kiss.

To be continued

[menalez]

i’m getting spammed with anon hate and i honestly don’t think this place is redeemable so im probs not going to be posting for idk how long. radblr has given me less than nothing. since joining radblr, people have overwhelmingly been unbelievably cruel to me.

my first year on radblr, women 1-2 decades older than me viciously harassed me for asking questions as someone not familiar with certain beliefs held here. these women harassed me for months non-stop, posted my full legal name, posted homes neighbouring where i lived in bahrain, and essentially released my private information. i had to threaten them back just in hopes they would leave me alone, which they didn’t really do. they simply stopped posting my name bc they wanted to make me look like im bad for finding one of their names simply by googling her url (her full name was her twitter username). one of the people in that circle was radicaldumbass, who then came back as macroclit, and again came back as radicalstoner. i moved on but i haven’t forgotten.

then, black-diaspora repeated the same thing. she posted pictures of my mother and led people to finding my mom's facebook. to this day, i still get anons with my mother’s name and my sister’s name. my sister was about 13 when anons first started sending me her name in threatening anons. somehow, black-diaspora was rewritten as a victim of mine despite her being repeatedly racist & lesbophobic to me & posting my mom’s info.

i was being abused by my ex-gf and women on here literally picked my abuse apart and enabled TRAs like lostelvenqueen to make up lies that i was the one abusing my abuser. that vicious lie was reiterated for 4 years. while being abused, women on radblr were mocking me for needing money when my ex-girlfriend was actively stealing from me at the time. to this day people use against me the fact that i needed help in that time bc some mutuals helped finance 2 dinners & my medication, all of which i either paid them back for or drew art as payment.

then, again, another woman dug through an old blog i ran as a teenager and found some posts here and there to make it seem like i, as a 15 and 16 year old, definitely loved being totally controlled by someone and physically abused whenever i didn’t follow his exact commands. i spoke openly about this trauma years prior to this person “exposing” me & arguing that i actually wanted that abuse by pointing to random innocuous posts and forming a story out of it. i think every abuse victim can imagine how difficult it is to still face trauma from something and instead of being allowed to heal, having it brought up to you several days a week to taunt you and having “feminists” tell you that you actually wanted it and are lying when you say otherwise. to this day, i get daily anons mentioning my name because this woman also put my legal name out there.

women here have put me in physical danger, they have made up the vilest lies about me, they’ve called me racial slurs, they’ve been outright racist to me, they’ve speculated about my rape & abuse, they’ve joked about lynching me, they’ve questioned things as minuscule as what i had for dinner. and despite that, i haven’t returned that same treatment. i remained relatively consistent, i simply criticised what i thought was wrong and provided evidence to my statements.

i made some nice friends on here & i’ll keep talking to them. but i’m going to be reevaluating why i’m wasting my time in a space that has overwhelmingly caused me stress, a space where countless unbelievable lies have been spun about me and a place where people have said & done the vilest things and in the end, i was always framed as a bad person based on half-truths or outright lies. now, people falsely claim that women who unfollow me or block me risk having their private information exposed, when i have met at least a dozen women from radblr and run a server with hundreds of women from radblr, have seen hundreds of faces, and have never exposed such information even if we end up disliking each other. i could tolerate many ridiculous lies, but why should i? i’m pretty fed up of tolerating this.

enjoy spinning this however you want and lying about me further. idk when i’ll be back or if i’ll want to be back. it’s pretty clear to me that this space prioritises lesbophobes & racists (& sometimes even downright misogynists) over people who calmly criticise it. i joined this space initially bc i thought it was somewhere where i could freely be a lesbian without being hassled for it, but radblr doesn’t even offer that anymore.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

-

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for attacking someone on Artfight? I am female, 31. There's this event called Artfight in which you can draw people's ocs as a ways of making points for your team. I've been participating in Artfight since Tea vs. Coffee and haven't had a problem until last Artfight.

I typically prefer to attack using the random character button and I found a really cute character that was someone's sona that was a dog. It had really nice colors that mixed well with my fursona's colors so I checked their permissions to see if they were okay with their characters/sonas being drawn with others. They were! They even encouraged and really wanted interactions of their characters or sonas with other people's characters or sonas. What caught my eye was that they also encouraged speciesswap too which I thought was cool. My sona is a pooltoy dog so I thought it'd be cool if I speciesswapped their sona to be a pooltoy too! I drew up the attack and posted it, but even after a few days they never commented on it. I noticed they commented on other attacks they got after mine so I thought they had missed it, alright no big deal. I'm not attacking for comments, I'm attacking for fun. Well, I attacked them again later in the month since I had time and I had saved another character of theirs earlier since it was part of a closed species I was apart of, but when I went to submit I realized they had blocked me. I know block evading is wrong now and shouldn't have bothered after realizing but I didn't know at the time, so I contacted them on tumblr to ask what was up if they were upset with me. They called me a proshipper and a freak and a pedo, saying I was disgusting for that attack. I was very confused and upset, so I asked what was wrong with it to see if I could fix it and they said I'm a freak for making fetish art of their sona when it's personal to them and they have stated in their permissions absolutely no fetish content since they're a minor.

Here's where I believe I am the asshole. It is true I do have a pooltoy fetish, but you have to search outside of my Artfight profile to find it. Even so, I keep my NSFW pooltoy work to one outside profile, everything else I ever draw outside of that specific profile, my pooltoy artwork is completely SFW. And I will add their age was not listed anywhere on their Artfight page but even then the art I made was not meant to be fetishic nor did I think it would come off as so? It was just two pooltoy animals having fun. Even so, they told me they reported the attack as soon as they realized, said a few more nasty things to me then blocked my tumblr. I began to think I may have been the asshole as a few people I know have said I should prepare in case that kid and their friends make a PSA on me which is making me think this may have been more severe then I'm thinking it was.

So tl;dr, I have a pooltoy fetish, I drew me and this person's sonas as pooltoys as an Artfight attack since it wasn't against their permissions, and they even encouraged it. They then called me a freak, blocked me and reported my attack. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[mollyrolls]

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

introductions: cloud 20 + kumonoue market

pinterest

taglist: open! fill out here

mlist. / next

ln yn

𖦹 yn is a recent art school dropout, working at the shop to pay rent. been there for about 6 months, is no longer the baby of the group. 𖦹 her dream job is to be a cartoonist or animator of some kind. she has a somewhat popular strip called lost planet. her fanbase is niche and small but they would die for her. 𖦹 heavily inspired by krazy kat's art style, calvin and hobbes' humor, and cul-de-sac's eclectic characters. 𖦹 she drew the short end of the stick and works graveyards a lot, so she draws a lot of her stuff during work. ukai doesn't care. 𖦹 is a satin black regular despite the obvious canonical problems. shes one of omis very few clients.

nishinoya yu

𖦹 got hired at kumonoue a week before yn did, so he was never really considered the baby. he contributes the most to the newbie jokes though, which makes yn so mad. 𖦹 he doesn't really have a reason for working here, he just needed a job and they were hiring. he likes it though, because there's always something to do or someone to watch. 𖦹 noya and yn are the definition of opposites attract. they cling to each other like parasites. he's floated the idea of splitting an apartment and once yns rent is up she is absolutely taking him up on that. 𖦹 he is lost planet's biggest fan, and has a bottle of very cheap champagne waiting for the day she gets a deal. one of the only people that gets to see yns personal comics.

akaashi keiji

𖦹 doing an unpaid internship at an editing company, so he got this job so that he wouldn't have to live with his parents. he lives with bokuto because they are canon in every universe. 𖦹 been working at kumonoue for a year and a half. he's been there the longest and is technically a manager. he loves the job but CAN'T STAND BEING MANAGER. 𖦹 he edits lost planet! they have a mutual exchange; she doesnt pay him for his work but he gets to use it in his portfolio (he would have done it anyways because he truly believes in her talent and wants to see her succeed).

hinata shoyo

𖦹 works here because ukai was complaining that he needed more workers during a practice one day. hinata took that as volun-telling, so he applied that night. 𖦹 he's the only part time worker, full time during the off-seasons. he doesnt really need the job but he loves the cloud 20 group so even if he did quit nothing would really change. 𖦹 he desperately wants the group to hang out outside of work events or in the group chat. he's getting very close to wearing them all down!

bodega cat

𖦹 kumonoue has an adopted cat. yn loves the cat. no one else likes the cat. the cats name is bodega cat. they do not work at a bodega. 𖦹 yn had a bad day once and got bodega cat a collar with a tag. the contact for if bodega cat goes missing is akaashi. he does not know this.

ukai kenshin & kumonoue market

𖦹 is the owner of kumonoue, but he's barely there. he trusts them all enough to not burn it down, so he spends his time at other locations or coaching.

fun facts!

𖦹 ukai's store in canon is named sakanoshita, which means 'under the slope'. kumonoue means 'above the clouds'.

𖦹 this is how the cloud 20 gc got their name. yn asked if ukai smokes cigarettes or joints, which lead to a joke about naming the store while on cloud 9. noya elevated that to cloud 10, but hinata didn't think that was dramatic enough so he made it 20.

𖦹 they have several jars for the counter. swear jar, stupid customer jar, failed flirting jar, bodega cat knocking over the jars jar. you name it, they've had it.

𖦹 despite the sometimes intimidating workers, kumonoue has a really great reputation in their community and a lot of lovely regulars. yn is the best at remembering orders and can ring people up before they approach.

mlist. / next

an: yes i will be using yn as a vessel for me to spout my ENDLESS NERD KNOWLEDGE about old newspaper comics. i am not sorry about it in the slightest.

comic art used in this chapter: krazy kat by George Herriman.

taglist: open! fill out here.

@bakingcuriosity, @nobodybutnnoorr, @ciderscape, @lilchubbyyy, @soulfullystarry,

@interstellarz, @wakashudou, @myromanempiree, @notverymarley, @froyaoya,

@lllaw, @eggyrocks, @cnnmairoll, @cosmiicdust, @reignsaway,

@wyrcan, @garfieldissocool

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[thatgayoctopus]

frank and eddie. literally doing anything. in the same proximity. pls. (lego brick clatter as i fall apart)

*Lego building noises as I put you back together*

I drew these like several months ago but I've been looking for an excuse to post them so HERE YOU GO WAHAHAHAHA

✨Enjory✨

[dolorum-magne]

Just realised I never posted any of my blue exorcist fanart, this must be fixed immediately

Drew this about a month ago after talking to some friends about headcanons and several of them agreed with the headcanon that Yukio has asthma (which was apparently apart of the original concept for his character which I did not previously know! Very interesting!) and one of them asked me to draw Rin comforting Yukio and handing him his inhaler during an asthma attack, so I did!

I'm incredibly proud of this piece, more blue exorcist fanart to be posted soon

[heauxvibez]

Fire Chief

warnings: mmm, you'll just have to read and see :)

Vivica's entrance onto the stage was nothing short of mesmerizing. With every step, her hips swayed in a hypnotic rhythm, a captivating dance that drew the gaze of every person in the room. The spotlight followed her, casting her in a radiant glow as she moved with effortless grace and confidence.

As she reached the center of the stage, she paused, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. She exuded an aura of command, her presence undeniable as she prepared to make the announcement that would set the stage on fire.

She delicately cleared her throat, before speaking into the mic, "How you ladies doin' tonight?"

The women erupted into a chorus of cheers and applause, their excitement reverberating off the walls of the venue. The sound washed over Vivica like a wave as she took in the adoration of her audience.

She gestured towards the unseen dancer, feeding the energy of the crowd.

"Well, tonight I want to introduce you to one of my new dancers," she declared, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "His bronze skin glistens like no other, and just his presence alone will send chills down your spine. Woo!" With a playful laugh, she fanned herself with her hand, the motion adding to her performance.

The audience responded with a chorus of laughter and cheers. Vivica's infectious energy had them hanging on her every word, eager to see what she had in store.

"Got me sweatin' and he's not even out here yet," Vivica continued, her pace quickening as she took over the stage. "But he's not going to be heating it up in here. No, ma'am." Her words were punctuated by playful chuckles, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she teased the crowd with hints of what was to come.

With a wink, she leaned in closer to the mic, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, no. His job is to put the fire out, if you know what I mean." The crowd erupted into delighted ooo's, eagerly awaiting the reveal of the mystery dancer who promised to extinguish their burning desires.

"Everyone, welcome... Fire Chief Reigns!"

With a final wave to the audience, Vivica swiftly made her exit from the stage, her heart pounding with hope. She couldn't help but silently pray that Roman would deliver a stellar performance and bring in some much-needed revenue for the night.

Roman's journey with Black Magic, Vivica's exotic dance company, had begun several months prior, when he had auditioned for a spot. Despite his allure—his captivating smile, his soft pretty lips, his confidence, and undeniable charm—Roman had fallen short during the auditions. Vivica couldn't deny that he possessed all the qualities of a true heartthrob, but there had been something missing, a certain spark.

As Vivica retreated backstage, her mind wandered back to Roman's audition. She recalled the disappointment she had felt when she had been forced to pass him over for one of the limited spots in the group. With only 8 positions available, each dancer had to possess that special something, that extra 'umph', that would set them apart from the rest.

Nonetheless, Vivica had seen potential in Roman, a glimmer of something extraordinary that had compelled her to keep him on as a backup dancer. She knew that with the right guidance and encouragement, Roman could blossom into the star she knew he was meant to be. And tonight, as she awaited his performance with high hopes. She hoped he would prove her instincts right and dazzle the audience with his talent and charm.

As the lights dimmed and the pulsating rhythm of August Alsina's "Porn Star" filled the air, eager screams and excited chatter filled the air, each woman eagerly yearning for the man that Vivica raved about.

With confidence, Roman made his entrance onto the stage, his presence commanding the attention of the women. Clad in his firefighter attire, he held onto his hose with an air of casual nonchalance, the jacket slung effortlessly over his shoulder adding to his costume.

Under the glow of the stage lights, Roman's bronzed skin seemed to shimmer and gleam, he was coated in coconut oil that gave him an almost ethereal glow. Every movement he made was calculated, every step drew the gaze of the enraptured audience members, who watched as he began his performance.

His luscious lips curled into a sexy smirk as he watched the women's jaws drop in awe. His body moved effortlessly to the rhythm of the music as he bit down on his bottom lip, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

He dropped the jacket to the floor and gripped the suspenders that held his pants up.

Slowly, he descended the steps of the stage, his eyes locking onto each woman with hunger. As he prowled the stage with predatory grace, his eyes smoldered with a hunger that seemed to penetrate their very souls.

With a teasing touch, he gripped the front of his pants, gradually revealing a trail that seemed to lead to the promised land. The women watched with bated breath, hoping he wouldn't stop the show anytime soon. Just as he was about to reveal more, he pulled his pants back up, his pearly white showing in the process.

The collective sigh of disappointment that swept through the audience mingled with the sound of eager applause and the rustle of bills being thrust into the air. With each bill that fluttered to the stage, they silently pleaded for him to continue his teasing, desperate for just a few moments more in his presence.

He chuckled seductively as he approached his chosen target. His eyes drank in the sight of her, drawn to her pretty brown eyes, the velvety richness of her chocolate skin, and the way her curly brown locks cascaded in unruly waves around her face, framing her features like a halo. With a confident flair, he grabbed her chair and pulled it forward, removing her from the crowd of other women.

As he straddled her, he made sure not to exert too much weight. With a firm grip on the back of her chair, he began to roll his hips slowly, each movement causing his muscles to flex and ripple.

She clutched onto his firefighter pants, her fingers trembling as she slipped ones into the fabric.

"Damn," she groaned, her heart racing faster than it ever had before.

He seized one of her hands, guiding it onto his chest and then slowly sliding it down his body and into his pants. It felt like a test of her patience, an invitation to explore further, to indulge in the forbidden. His intentions were clear, and she couldn't deny the feelings coursing through her veins.

And then, in a daring move that stole her breath away, he placed her hand on his bulge. It was a sensation that weakened her yet made her feel good that she held a power over him that none of the other women in the room possessed. Their gazes remained firmly fixed on each other, a silent and intoxicating communication that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

With a slick move, he wrapped his hand around her neck, his grip neither too firm nor too gentle, but just right. With each gentle pressure of his fingers against her skin, she felt the knots of tension begin to form in her belly, a delicious ache that pulsed within her.

In that moment, with his hand wrapped possessively around her neck, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers. It felt dangerous yet exhilarating.

They had forgotten where they were, it was as if the world around them had faded into nothingness.

Leaning in close, his breath warm against her ear, he whispered in a sultry voice,

"I want you after this is over, you understand me?"

---------------------------------------

Yes, yes and yeessss

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @sheyaish @tshepisho @mzv11

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit to ecstaticruby

James Beaufort x Tailor!Reader (female)

PART 2

Warnings: swear words. About it. Nothing else.

---

It would be about a month before James Beaufort saw Y/N Y/L/N again. She had definitely gained his attention, even if she wasn't gunning for it from the beginning. He had found a strange interest in her, and James wasn’t quite sure where it came from. Was it because he had never heard of her, especially supposedly being trained by the best? Or the way his father never yelled at her for being late? Why was she the one to fill the shoes of who used to be his tailor and what happened to him? Which he had asked himself again, but knew he would likely never get an answer from anyone in particular.

Walking into the room, James had seen that she had dressed far better than their first meeting. She wore a white dress shirt underneath a sweater vest, although the sweater vest had an intricate design that he didn't like, all accompanied by black skinny dress pants.

Y/N had turned to look at him as he walked in, allowing him to notice the pencil behind her ear and the tape measure around her neck and hanging in front down the front of her. She had only spared a few seconds, before turning back towards the notes she had in her hands.

“Welcome back, Mr Beaufort. I figured my poor appearance scared you away.” Her voice filled the air, and something about it seemed hypnotizing, and James had worked to fight it off.

He scoffed, but had answered honestly.

“My father seems to have faith in you, despite my complaints.”

“Oh, so you have complained about me.” She put her notes down on a desk and had finally turned towards him. Y/N motioned for him towards the rack that he now finally noticed. “I'm so flattered.”

James rolled his eyes as he looked towards the rack, moving forward to take a look at the work that she had conjured up. Upon first look, it had seemed that she didn't do too bad of a job, but the final answer would Come when he finally tried it all on.

“Most people don't work so hard to get on my bad side.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, Mr. Beaufort, but I'm not like most people.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And to be fair, I haven't particularly done anything to be on your bad side.”

He had scowled at her, knowing that she was technically right, but he didn't say so. It would boost her confidence and she was already insufferable and infuriating as is. As much as he didn't like being around her, there was something about her that still drew him in.

James looked down upon, having towered over her by quite a few inches. He took In her height, sneering at her.

“How can someone so small make a job like this work? How do you reach your taller clients?” He asked, avoiding the comment she made about working in an attempt to piss him off. It was her turn to scowl at him, the previous cheeky grin on her face now gone.

“I make it work. Now try on the damn suits and let me do my job.” She punctuated the last two words with a moderate level of anger.

He gave her a sarcastic grin.

“As you wish.”

—-

As the day drones on, they had several disturbances. At a moment in time, even Y/N had grown irritated. She didn't mind at first, enjoying watching James squirm in irritation and anger at the constant interruptions. He truly wanted to get out as fast as he could.

But people interrupted her for questions, making James realize just how respected she appeared to be here.

Apart from those, people would also come in and ask if he needed or required anything. Sometimes he said no. Other times he said yes, especially if it interrupted her own work, taking enjoyment out of it. But he only handled so much, growing irritated when it became too much for either of them to get anything done. Well, it was mostly Y/N doing the work, adjusting his suits and pants as needed, but he felt like he was putting in enough work by being patient enough to let her do her job.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, she did it fairly well. He had taken in the meticulous way in which she worked, double checking, even triple checking seams and adjustments she had to make. As he desperately tried to find a flaw In her work, he could find none.

“It's impolite to stare.” She commented.

James blinked. He hadn't realized he had been staring and gone silent.

“Well where am I supposed to stare.” He already knew the answer she was going to give him.

“Anywhere but me. I have performance anxiety.” A bluff. She had been working just fine in the last little bit that he had been apparently staring at her. He Watched her movements as she took a few steps back after fixing a seam, her eyes moving over his body.

He smirked.

“Like what you see?” He asked coyly. Y/N’s eyes moved up to meet his as his eyebrows wriggled. Her eyes moved back down to a particular part in the seams.

“No. Not at all. I need to spend more time on those seams. Plus I want to replace the buttons on your cuffs. Those ones don't suit you.” She finished the sentence and trailed off. Her eyes bounced back up to his momentarily. “No pun intended.”

“and you know what does and doesn't suit me?” He asked. James hadn’t meant for it be derogatory and harsh in any way, but her eyes had narrowed nonetheless.

“You are my client. It’s my job to know what suits you.”

“You just have to make what my father requires you to for his next clothing line.” James said, as If she didn't already know this. However, as she opened her mouth to retort back to him, her phone went off.

Y/N let out a slew of curse words, surprising even James as she answered the phone in rage, turning her back to him.

“What! I'm busy!” she was silent for a moment and then her back tensed and the harshness in her voice fell. “What?” There was shock, a meekness to it that not even James expected, especially coming from her. A quiet “shit” fell from her lips.

It was silent for several minutes as the voice on the other end spoke to her and she mindlessly ran her hand through her hair.

It had seemed like forever before she spoke.

“Yea. Yea. I'll be there.” And then she hung up her phone and instantly turned around, the pencil flying from behind her ear at the sudden movement and the measuring tape getting tangled in her limbs. She had thrown it the ground, allowing it to the join the pencil and raced past James, who attempted to stop her, demanding answers.

Instead, he had received none, and she had escaped from his grasp, bolting through the doors and disappearing into the building.

His father, who seemingly had been ready to enter the room, stared after her, watching as she skirted around the corner, fumbling with her phone in her hands as she left their line of sight.

Mr. Beaufort looked towards James, who only shrugged his shoulders, and had expected his father to be pissed, but he didn't seem so, as if he knew what possibly might have happened.

But why was no one telling him?

---

Taglist: taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty @uniquexusposts

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Danish Werewolf in The City

The First Taste - part 2

Note: life's full of surprises, huh? once again, this fic was getting out of hand, so I had to split it up once more and this chapter is now 3 parts long. And as promised, the ending & smut part of it will be out tomorrow. For now, I hope you enjoy this! Special thanks to @foxyanon for reading a tiny part as a way of helping me out.

previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3.1

Pairing: werewolf!Sihtric x you (f)

Warnings: 18+, angst/horror fic.

Wordcount: 2,7k

Masterlist

After his relentless vampire killing spree, which had lasted up to several months, Sihtric realised he needed to calm down before accidentally sparking the interest of werewolf hunters or other observing folk around.

He had earned quite some new scars during his slaughters, some of which were hard to hide on a warm summer day. And the last thing Sihtric wanted was having to move towns because his beast identity had been discovered. He knew he'd be chased away, or worse, being hunted down and tortured before being brutally murdered. And the people would most likely make a fancy rug out of his fur and use his decapitated wolf's head as a laughingstock to scare children with. These weren't medieval times, but once a creature was discovered living amongst regular humans, people tended to slip into a state of primaeval panic. So he began to lay low as the Moon cycle continued, and that's when he made a list of everything he'd need to restore the shed.

His shed was ordinary on the outside, like any other backyard shed around his neighbourhood, but the inside of it was something else. Inside, the wooden walls of which the shed was made, were hidden behind a firm layer of steel that would be impossible to break out of and, most importantly, were sound proof. Furthermore, the cabin was completely empty inside, apart from a chair in the middle which resembled those used as electric chairs in prisons. The design had been picked on purpose, as he could be easily restrained in it with metal chains, which a pack member would always help him with, and because his monthly involuntary transformation felt like something he should be punished for.

As Sihtric had his shifting under control, he usually didn't need to be fully restrained and mainly did it as a precaution every month, not wanting to become a killing machine. But after he had decided several Moons ago to rip off all the chains from the chair, floor and ceiling, to completely let his werewolf form go in order to slay those vampires while he was hurting, thus making the shed completely unusable for the sole purpose it had been built, he now felt that he needed to be fully chained up again to restore the balance inside of him. The full Moon made everyone act out, even humans and other animals, not just the werewolves, but it simply affected the latter more than the average breathing being. And since Sihtric did not want to become a target by hunters, townsfolk or any other creature of the night, he knew he had to be quick to fix up his enclosure. And as he only had three days left before he would already start to feel the effect of the waxing Moon, as she would be almost fully round, he headed to the hardware store.

Sihtric strolled through the store with a shopping cart, agitated by one of its wheels as it malfunctioned and abruptly brought the cart to an awkward halt every now and then with a loud squeak that hurt his ears and drew attention. He cursed under his breath as he fought with the cart while he searched for the materials he needed. The full Moon wasn't here yet, but Sihtric was already more sensitive than during the other moon phases, and he kicked the cart's wheel in his frustration when it blocked once again and caused him to bump into the cart. To his delight, he quickly found the aisle he was searching for, and he loaded the limp cart with several heavy metal chains, as well as the tools he needed to secure them again.

And it was then, when he wanted to struggle with the cart to the self checkout, that he suddenly froze as he caught a familiar scent closeby that made his heart skip several beats.

You gritted your teeth as you searched for a specific colour of paint. Months had passed since Sihtric had scratched up the paint job on the outside of your windowsill, and you couldn't bear to look at it anymore. It was horrible, the claw markings clearly visibly as they had left dark scratches on the white surface. The fact that those scratches were there was not even the worst part of it all. No, the worst of it was that you knew you had to repaint the entire outside part of your house after touching up the scratches, because it had been a while since you had applied the paint, and the white had turned a rather light grey overtime. 

You internally cursed your werewolf ex-boyfriend as you roamed past the various shades of paint. It had been months, but you still loved Sihtric, and in truth you knew it was going to be hard to remove the last physical memory you had of him. To make matters worse, you finally spotted the paint you were looking for at the top shelf, which you couldn't possibly reach. You sighed, clearly annoyed, and looked around for an employee who could help you, but it seemed they were all on their lunch breaks. You groaned as you wanted to make your way back to the paint aisle, but stopped when you spotted a man who looked tall enough to reach that top shelf. He had his back turned to you as he seemed to stare down into his shopping cart, and you cleared your throat as you walked up to him.

'Excuse me,' you chuckled awkwardly, 'could you maybe help me-'

You immediately stopped talking when the man turned around, and it felt as if the ground beneath your feet crumbled away. You stopped breathing as you studied him, for he looked so different. The man was handsome, so very handsome, with his well kept goatee and interesting haircut; dark curls on one side while the other half was shaved. For a moment you figured it couldn't possibly be him, but those mismatched eyes were undoubtedly the same you had looked into various mornings.

'S… Sihtric?' you managed to breathe as your cheeks warmed up.

He stared at you, dead silent, while his Adam's apple bopped in his throat as he swallowed hard before he finally opened his mouth to speak after what felt like forever.

'I… I,' he stammered with a shaky voice, 'I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else.'

He quickly averted his eyes and turned on his heels, ready to push his cart and leave the store as fast as he could. But the cart stalled again as the limp wheel refused to cooperate, and forced him to suffer being around your presence a little longer. Your scent drove him mad, in every possible way, and he felt a mild panic inside of him. You were fast to grab his arm and stepped around to face him.

'Sihtric,' you said again, fully convinced this time as his voice had betrayed him too, 'please… I… I've been thinking of you,' you blurted out.

Your eyes darted over his face while he just stood there, nailed to the ground and clearly at war with himself, fighting urges inside of him. You took in his new look while he dared to bring his eyes back onto you, his new haircut was bold and strange, but you couldn't deny he made your heart beat just as fast as the first time you had met him.

'I've been thinking of you every day,' you said as you finally released his arm, 'have… have you been thinking of me?'

Sihtric looked down at his feet, then showed a quick pained and broken smile as he shrugged lightly.

'Of course,' he half mumbled and shyly rubbed his arm, 'of course I have. You're… you're all I think of, still.'

You smiled faintly and felt your cheeks heat up again. You stared at each other, unsure of what to do next. Part of you wanted to slap his face for telling you to get out of his life and break your heart, and the other part of you wanted to grab his face and kiss him, stumbling into the shelves and making out steamingly on the floor of the hardware store for everyone to see. But you did neither of those things.

'Where have you been?' you asked, breaking the long silence, 'I heard you quit at the vet a little while ago.'

'I didn't quit,' Sihtric said softly, 'I'm on temporary leave.'

'But why?'

'I just, I don't know. I had to take care of things.'

'I see,' you nodded, still confused by his vague answer, and then you looked into his cart, 'so, eh, renovating?'

'Something like that,' he chuckled faintly, 'what brings you here?'

'I need paint, but I can't reach it…'

Sihtric broke into a genuine smile and followed you to grab you the bucket of paint.

'Renovating?' he jested.

'Something like that,' you smiled, 'you left some… marks. I haven't gotten around to fix that up yet.'

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric said, immediately tormented again by the horrible night, and he sighed as a sense of panic crept up once more, 'well, look… I just… I-I have to go-'

'Sihtric, please,' you stopped him again, 'please. I'm worried about you. And I…,' you swallowed hard and half whispered, 'I miss you. I really fucking miss you.'

Sihtric stared at you, the tears glistened in his eyes as he sniffed and scratched his goatee in an attempt to hide his emotions.

'I miss you too,' he mumbled.

'Can we talk, please? Not here, not right now. But can we meet up somewhere later?'

Sihtric wasn't sure about your offer. He desperately wanted to talk to you and be close to you again, but he was afraid it would only make his unhealed wounds deeper as he still loved you with all his heart. You suggested to meet at a pub later that evening, but as you left the store with trembling hands, you still weren't sure if he was going to show up.

You waited outside the pub and hoped Sihtric would show, otherwise you'd look like a fool waiting at the door for twenty minutes already. The place was crowded inside, as were the streets, and suddenly your eye caught the Moon as she crept up the darkened sky when you looked up. You began to feel nervous, reminiscing over everything that had happened prior to your break-up, and you wondered if maybe it had been a mistake to try and see where you and Sihtric stood right now. 

You would never deny that you were still in love with him, and had been all this time, despite the horrors and gruesome truths you had discovered about him and his being. If anything, you understand his werewolf identity more now after all the research you had done, and it even had gotten as far as sparking a new curiosity inside of you. But before you could disappear into your newfound interest, you were startled when Sihtric suddenly stood behind you and spoke softly in your ear.

'Caught you,' he chuckled softly with a hint of darkness.

But the mischief quickly fell off his face when you turned around, and he once again remembered what he had lost that night in the woods; you. You and that smile of yours, the one you flashed him now upon seeing him. The smile that made him weak instantly and made him want to cup your cheeks and nuzzle your nose softly in between peppering you with kisses all over. He'd do anything to be able to do that again. He'd try every other superstition that could potentially break his werewolf curse that he hadn't tried yet, no matter how gruesome, no matter the cost. If only he could have you again and love you like no other living being ever could.

'Hey,' you smiled, relieved, 'I wasn't sure if you were going to show.'

'Neither was I,' Sihtric confessed.

You noticed he avoided eye contact, and the sudden trembling of his lower lip betrayed the fact he was on the verge of tears.

'Well,' you broke the painful silence, 'can I… at least get a hug?'

Sihtric shrugged lightly and scrunched his nose as he sniffed, then held his arms open and invited you in his embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to sink in his warm and strong arms which you had dreamt of nearly every night.

'I've missed your arms around me,' you murmured in his ear.

You fought your own tears now while you heard Sihtric sniffle quietly, and his grip suddenly tightened as his chest heaved up and down fast, as if a state of panic had captured him.

'I… I-,' he stammered with a shaky voice, 'I just can't breathe without you. It feels as if I can't breathe without you,' he almost wheezed, 'I… I need… I just need you.'

You tried to step back, wanting to look at him as you could sense he started to slip further into an abrupt form of panic, but you couldn't get out of his grip. A sudden low growl started to sound from deep down his throat, while his heavy breaths slowly changed into murmured grunts. 

His head was spinning as the intensity of every sound, sight and smell around him grew stronger, slowly driving him mad as his ears were ringing. His clothes felt too tight, the street lanterns and pub signs were too bright and the people too loud. But even louder was the buzzing of his own blood in his ears, as well as the sound of your beating heart inside your chest, and he suddenly bared his teeth with a silent snarl as you managed to take a step back. You took his face while his hands found your waist, squeezing you firmly but not all unpleasant, and you forced eye contact as you spoke to him as soothingly as possibly.

'Sihtric? Sihtric listen to me. You need to calm down,' you said compassionately, but not without fright as his mismatched eyes occasionally glowed, 'just breathe. You can breathe, I promise. I'm here… I'm here, okay?' you said with a soft sob, 'I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?'

While Sihtric fought his urge to shift, as his emotions were almost unbearable and he just wanted to hide, you managed to gradually calm him down and suggested you'd go for a walk instead of a drink at the pub. You worried that any slight cause of frustration might tip Sihtric over the edge, thus shifting into a gigantic werewolf and tearing up the place as well as everyone in it, which was the absolute last thing you wanted. You took his hands and pulled him with you, out of the busy street and near the entrance of a quiet and dark alley where you sat down on a public bench that overlooked the river which ran through the darkened city.

Sihtric calmed down while his trembling hands held yours, and he finally dared to look at you again as he stopped fighting his tears.

'Pushing you away from me was the biggest mistake of my life,' he spoke softly, with a broken voice, 'I thought it would be better for you, but it's… and maybe it was, but for me-' he stopped and buried his face in his hands while he cried.

You wrapped your arms around his jerking shoulders, letting your tears run freely along with his, and you told him you understood why he had pushed you away and that walking out on him was your biggest regret too. You told him that after the split you had started researching his wolf being, and that you understood him so much better now and everything that came with it. Sihtric felt relieved to hear that it seemed you had accepted his darker side, but he dreaded telling you what he had been up to while you were broken up…

'Have you been with someone else?' he eventually asked as both your tears had dried.

'What?' you scoffed, 'oh, please. As if you couldn't smell.'

'I could,' Sihtric admitted with a chuckle, 'but have you?'

'I haven't,' you rolled your eyes with a soft smile, 'what about you?'

'Really?' he frowned and feigned offence.

'Look, I know your sex drive, Sihtric,' you shrugged, 'so I'm just asking.'

'Well, I haven't been with anyone else,' Sihtric sighed, 'I mean… no one wants to be with a monster, do they?'

You sat in silence for a long time, just staring out into the darkness together, until you took his hand again and said, 'It was a mistake to break up, wasn't it?'

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if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

[phoenixcatch7]

Kintsukuroi

'What if I put a clock pendulum in my torso' was the sort of question Bruce had come to expect when visiting Oracle.

"Pendulums are dependant on a stable base," he replied, because the last time he'd assumed they were being unserious Tim had tried to fit a chemistry test lab in his mouth and accidentally leaked the fumes through his mask.

"It'd be so aesthetic though," said Barbara, not looking up from the dozen screens she was surrounded by. "Listen. It would look so cool - Spoiler, robbery on fifth and main - Especially if I put a clock face over my heart."

"I thought you were trying to fit a super computer in it?"

"I was, but progress is slow. It's hard to fit it and enough padding to protect it plus leave enough room for ventilation. If I add the pendulum I might at least get inspiration." She gave a heavy sigh and pushed away from the desk, gliding in her chair to where her doll body was resting on a table, the glue separating the two halves of the smashed torso still glistening. Bruce followed, peering over her at the many scanners and wires hooked into it, flashing and beeping.

"Any luck?" he asked, and they both knew he wasn't talking about the computer anymore.

"Nothing."

He squeezed her shoulder, and she leant into it. They stayed there for a long moment.

"I just don't understand!" Barbara finally burst out, hands clenching on her chair arms. "I glued nearly every single piece back together! I made sure every splinter I could find went exactly where it should! I know the contract is still there. She's worked with more missing pieces before. But she's just not responding!"

"It's not you," Bruce soothed. "You've more than enough determination and strength to puppet, and we know the human body's state doesn't affect performance."

"That's the thing!" Barbara threw her hands up angrily, nearly smacking Bruce in the face. There was a chatter over comms, and both reached for their own. "One second," she said tightly, and wheeled back into the glow of the monitors. "Copy. BW, you're nearest? Thanks. Try and avoid the sniper this time. Wing, backup is in five."

She muted again and spun around, pinning Bruce with a heavy stare. "Is there anything, anything you can think of? We've - nothing I've tried has worked."

"Well...." He trailed off, one hand coming up to rub at the chin of his mask - a quiet night meant the opportunity to forgo the practical but muffling gas mask for his favoured plain black.

It was far from the first time a doll had been horrifically damaged. The incident with Bane came to mind - Batman had been in a very similar condition, body shorn clean in two and tossed to opposite corners. It was an awful memory, but the expression on Bane and the audience's faces as his bloodless body fell apart like a rotting tree trunk and then kept moving was a silver lining he'd always treasure.

But he'd been repaired and back on his feet in weeks, if bearing the incandescent fury of the doll for several more. It had been months for Barbara, and still nothing was happening.

"There's something we're missing, and I doubt it's on your side."

"I know THAT-"

"Listen," he demanded, and her jaw clicked shut mutinously. "There's something we're not seeing. Batgirl is in no shape to demand it herself, it seems. So its inaction is something we can't fully rely on."

"You've got the most experience with the dolls of all of us. Can you.. I don't know, sense anything?"

"Nothing more than the usual, with the Patriarch Doll, but we might get more if we return to the doll house -"

"No." Barbara interrupted again, but Bruce did not take offence. "She's not going anywhere. She doesn't want to head back to the cave."

Oh?

"She doesn't want to, or she doesn't care to?"

"I say she doesn't."

Interesting. This was likely a case of the doll exerting its will. The bats were well versed in avoiding the few lines their wooden bodies drew in the sand, treating them with the wary respect one would give a favorite blade or a highly trained attack dog. They could work together, share the highs and lows of life with them, but never get complacent. The dolls were forever a foreign, inhuman presence, and as with all wild creatures they would never be so arrogant as to assume full understanding. For Barbara to so strongly decide for the doll meant she was most likely not the only one deciding.

Which meant the solution would not be found in the cave.

"Perhaps there are upgrades she wishes to have?"

Oracle paused.

"Maybe," she conceded. "But there's practically a limitless amount of things I could do, and I wouldn't know where to start. And I could more easily do them when she's up and walking."

Not that then. If the doll wanted something to change but not receive upgrades or heal, than what?

... Not heal.

Batman hurried to the table. Oracle watched him with hawk eyes, but another call on the comms turned her away with a final warning glance.

Recovering every single splinter from a damaged wooden object and perfectly reattaching it was nigh impossible on a good day, never mind in the dead of night with a moving target. The dolls always returned to the cave to regenerate scratches and nicks they couldn't buff out, or accepted plaster to transmute with whatever supernatural power guided them.

The batgirl on the table, divested of all covering and armour, was still as chipped and scuffed as the day nightwing recovered last splinter.

The pieces fell into place.

"She doesn't want to be perfectly rebuilt," he realised. "She doesn't want the damage to disappear as it normally does... She wants it to remain visible. A different type of repair, then."

Oracle spun in her wheelchair to face him.

"Why?" she asked, something sharp in her eyes. Bruce chose his next words carefully.

"Perhaps she thinks such damage doesn't need to be hidden away," he said, slowly, and didn't comment when she turned away. Though she put on a strong face, and the doctors had recently released her full time, it would be a long time until the young hero was able to truly heal her mind.

"She doesn't need to do that for me. She's just causing me trouble."

"I don't think she is," he tried. "Dolls tend to reflect their puppeteer even after they accept us. You can't deny your trajectory has been changed."

They both sent a significant look to the enormous super computer taking up the wall.

"You've said you almost feel better able to protect Gotham now, with your reach and skills. Do you really feel that way?"

"I - I don't -" her mouth worked silently, and Bruce waited. "I mean I guess... But a part of me always assumed it'd be temporary, you know? Once I fixed batgirl.. It'd all return to normal." Her voice wobbled, and Bruce didn't hesitate to crouch before her, wrapping her in a long armed hug. She buried herself in his chest, regardless of the chilled metal.

"It's okay if you don't," he whispered into her hair, and held her as she shook. "I'm just throwing ideas around."

"I do though," she rasped. "I think I do feel that way. There's so much that can't be solved by violence, and it feels good to be out there but... I think I can help even more people, this way."

"That's good," he praised, "that's good. You can do whatever you set your mind to."

"You stole that from a parenting book verbatim."

"It's applicable to the current situation."

"Fine," she sighed, and pushed him away to roughly scrub at her eyes. "I'll give the doll another chance. Find some glitter glue or something, I don't know."

"Any materials you need will be provided," he promised. "I wouldn't recommend glitter glue or our usual tar."

He moved to pat her on the hair as the emotions of the moment faded, making sure to keep his unsheathed claws out of her hair.

"Once you fix her, though, I would recommend you puppet the doll during night hours still," he told her. "It wouldn't be good to put your body through twenty hour days."

"I've got a good system set up for now, but thank, B-man."

The computer dinged with another alert, and oracle spun to squint at it with a muffled curse, typing furiously. Batman escaped to the other side of the room, where the folders he'd originally come looking for lay. She waved, distracted, as he left, and although the doll could not smile, he could feel it on his face all the same.

@puppetmaster13u I summon thee dear mutual ^^