#i hope it’s okay

[pangur-and-grim]

I love the eraserhead baby

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

[thesightstoshowyou]

Hot as a Summer Revival

Alpha!Thomas Hewitt x Omega!F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You meet a helpful stranger when you least expect it.

Warnings: A/B/O AU, blood, predator/prey if you squint, noncon I guess because of heat but reader is très enthousiastique, virgin!Tommy, he doesn’t let a little bit of premature ejaculation stop him, creampies, knotting

Your shoulders burn. Blazing sunlight radiates down on you from a cloudless sky and sears your exposed skin. Sweat pours down your back and drenches your shirt, sticking it to the heavy backpack you carry. Your shoes kick up dust with each laborious step.

You hope the trucker that kicked you out in the middle of this wasteland dies in a fiery crash.

“More trouble than you’re worth,” he’d spat before slamming the door shut and speeding off. Your jaw clenches at the memory.

It’s your own fault, really.

Your scent-killing soap had run out a few days prior. You’d risked hitchhiking, desperate, and luckily a beta had picked you up. But, as the day grew warmer and you started to sweat, there was no more hiding.

Sure, times are changing. People become more and more progressive each year, but there are still plenty who look down on omegas. To them, you’ll never be anything more than lower class breeding stock.

You shake your head. No point dwelling on things you can’t change. Focus on what you can control, like figuring out where the hell you are.

Dry grass rustles in a hot breeze. The wind brings no relief, just the scents of parched earth, desert willow, white oak, and some dead thing rotting in the oppressive heat. There’s a whole lot of nothing as far as the eye can see. You’re somewhere in west Texas, you’re almost certain, but you haven’t seen another car or building or road sign for miles….

Watery eyes, irritated by dust and blinding sun, squint to focus. Through the heat simmering off the road you spot it: A fading green sign in the distance. You shuffle a little faster and allow yourself to hope for nearby civilization.

Fuller - 3 Miles

The name doesn’t ring any bells, but if there’s even one gas station, you’ll be happy. Your pack kicks up more dirt when it crashes to then ground. Digging through the pockets, you find your water bottle. Stale, lukewarm water wets your dry throat as you rest your sweaty back against the sign post.

As you catch your breath and sip, you begin to notice a new sensation. A new discomfort. Warmth prickles under your skin, the barest hint of a tingle you hardly register until you focus. Then there’s the tug deep in your gut, the promise of a future hunger no food or drink can satisfy. The sweat dripping from your body begins to change and take on a new scent, one that fills the air around you until the breeze carries it away.

A calling card.

No. No, no, no, not now! It’s too early, isn’t it? You push away from the sign post, water within the bottle sloshing with your trembling. Frantically, you attempt to count back the weeks and realize you don’t even know what day it is.

More time has passed than you thought.

Running a hand through your hair, you suck in a breath to steady yourself. What will you do now? You can’t go to town, not until your heat passes. And with this wind, every alpha in the vicinity is going to smell you.

Think. Wildly, you look around you, ignoring that accursed burn settling between your thighs. There, up ahead: A grove of trees. You have a tent and sleeping bag in your backpack. You’ll hide for a few days and ride this out.

Grunting, you heave your pack back onto your sunburned shoulders and trudge down the road once again.

This is going to fucking suck.

*

Everything is sticky; your hair clings to your dewy brow, your sleeping bag adheres to your sweaty skin, and the slick coating your thighs glues your legs together. Inside, you burn with need. Every nerve ending is alight, overly sensitive. Even the gentle breeze billowing through your tent makes you pant and squirm.

The maddening ache demands relief. You rip off your soaked shorts and fling them away. Pushing your damp panties to the side, you hump your hand, all thoughts of dignity replaced by an animalistic craving. There is only want, only desperation.

It’s not enough.

Your scent fills the tent, nearly suffocating. Repeatedly inhaling the smell of your want is going to drive you insane. You need air!

“Fuck,” you whimper, weakly pushing to your knees. Trembling, feverish, you crawl to the tent entrance, unzip the mesh screen, and tumble out into the dirt. Sucking in lungfuls of fresh air clears your fuzzy head, if only a little.

As you lay still and breathe, you listen to the nighttime melodies. Crickets chirp, frogs croak, mocking birds call for mates. Leaves rustle in a soft wind. Rodents scurry through the undergrowth. It begins to sound like a lullaby—

CRACK

With a jolt, you sit upright. A branch had broken somewhere in the thicket behind your tent. Your ears strain, eyes darting around, searching the darkness. A full moon shines overhead, but the canopy above obscures the light it offers. Trees and shrubs take on monstrous form in the gloom, their twisted branches like spindly arms, reaching for you.

Rustling to your left now. Your heart slams against your ribs. Foliage crunches under heavy boots. Moonlight illuminates a hulking shadow slinking between the trees.

Something massive stalks through the brush just out of sight.

Rooted to the ground, you shake like a leaf in the wind. You’re so weak; fight will be out of the question. Flight is only option that remains.

You won’t make it far, though.

As you silently panic and weigh your escape options, a shadowy figure steps into the clearing. They are huge, well over six feet. You can’t make out any features, backlit as they are by the moonlight.

Sudden terror gives you a burst of strength and you stagger to your feet. You launch yourself into the trees, a weak cry leaving your throat when thunderous footfalls give chase Fear forces you into a sprint, makes you ignore the pain in your bare feet when they split open and bleed on fallen branches.

Your stumbling makes a racket, gasping breaths and crashing feet a cacophony in the quiet forest. Trees race past, but it isn’t long until helplessness seeps back into your muscles. You slow, your trembling legs barely able to hold your weight.

Vines you can’t see in the dark ensnare your clumsy feet. You smash into the ground, pain blooming along your palms, knees, and behind your eyes. A tangy, metallic scent invades your nostrils. Stunned and disoriented, you wonder why your face feels wet. When you touch your upper lip, your fingers come away black. Your nose bleeds freely down your face, your blood inky black in the darkness.

Boots stomp behind you. Your pursuer is mere feet away. Heart leaping into your throat, you whip onto your back.

A man stands before you—a tall, broad shouldered, powerful man. His chest heaves, his deep breaths like a gale in the quiet grove. At his sides, his hands are balled into fists.

He takes a measured step closer and a swath of moonlight illuminates his face. You see dark, shoulder length hair, a furrowed brow, but what catches your attention is the leather mask he wears across the lower half of his face.

You’re about to wonder at its use, but then the wind changes.

His scent washes over you and every muscle in your body seizes. Fresh cut oak, sharp citrus, heady musk, and old blood assault your senses, his smell overpowering even the metallic scent of your bleeding nose. You’re struck dumb, frozen in place, mouth hanging open in shock.

Alpha.

Never have you been immobilized by the mere scent of an alpha. He hasn’t even spoken. No commands have left his mouth, yet you’ve already surrendered, submitted in every sense. Between your legs, you throb, slick gushing from your cunt and further drenching your underwear.

The alpha twitches and breaks free of the momentary trance that held the two of you. Slowly, he drops to his knees. There is conflict in his body language as he crawls to you, like he’s fighting the urge to pounce and tear you to shreds.

He’s trying not to scare you, trying to hold himself back.

But why?

A tremulous breath spills past your parted lips and your legs automatically fall open to accommodate the alpha’s huge frame. The shivering starts up again, your body combusting when he hovers over you.

His eyes meet yours; you can’t discern their color in the dark, but they watch you so intently, tracing every inch of your face. You go lax under his scrutiny, your head dropping back into the dirt and tipping to the side.

The alpha’s gaze darts to the exposed flesh of your neck, to your face, then back again. Hesitantly, he dips his head until his hair tickles your face and the leather of the mask drags up the column of your throat.

You groan at the touch, oversensitive skin prickling. Over and over, he inhales deeply, drowning himself in your scent. You whimper and arch, hips rolling so you grind up against him.

He startles at the contact, thick fingers flying to your hip to hold you still. A whimper leaves you and your nails rake impatiently through the dirt.

“P-Please, I…I need…I need…please h-help me,” you beg, your voice so pathetically weak and shaky, but you ache so deep, so intensely you can think of nothing else. Your legs burn with desire you can’t control. You are certain if you aren’t bred by this alpha now you will die.

The alpha’s own breaths tremble, mirroring the shaking of the hand on your hip. With a sharp inhale, his nails dig into the fabric of your panties, twist, and rip. You gasp and nod, near delirious with want.

He looks at you again, his eyes wide and wild. He’s teetering on the edge, seconds from losing composure. You stare back, pleading with your eyes, reassuring him, urging him on. In your chest, your frenzied heart hammers.

He swallow thickly. Sitting back, he fumbles with his trousers. You hear the clink of a belt, the pop of the button, the slide of the zipper. Hot, thick flesh rests on your mound as he leans forward and you keen at the feel.

Your hips tilt immediately, as though they have a mind of their own. Slick folds slide up and down the alpha’s girth; just this is nearly enough to make you cum. Finally, he makes a sound, like he’s choking on a groan.

Fingers trail along your inner thigh and hesitate before prodding your cunt. It’s tentative, his touch. Exploratory. Your lust-addled brain can’t fathom why he seems so unsure.

You suck in air through your teeth when his digits sink into slick warmth. He gives a few experimental thrusts, which elicit a sweet, little mewl from you. Your slippery walls squeeze his fingers, the wet slide audible even over your gasps.

Your sounds break his resolve. The alpha growls. He rips his fingers from your dripping hole and hastily guides his cock to your entrance. It takes a few tries before he finds it again, the tip of his cock running up and down between your lips until you sob in desperation.

All the air leaves your lungs when he slips inside, surges forward, and buries every thick inch deep in your cunt. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt when you immediately climax, the relief of finally being filled shoving you over the threshold into ecstasy.

The alpha utters a strangled groan as he grips your waist, his shoulders tensing under your hands. You feel it then, the spreading warmth of his seed. He came with you?

But oh, he’s still hard as stone within you. Trembling with barely contained desire, he gives an experimental buck of his hips. Your teeth sink into your lip, your cry muffed behind your teeth.

He leans down over you, buries his face in the crook of your neck so you can whisper in his ear, “P-Please don’t s-stop, please, please I need-need you, it’s…it hurts….”

You don’t finish, the rest of your words lost in a shriek when the alpha slams into you. His thrusts are uncoordinated and sloppy, but you help, raising your hips to meet his until he matches your rhythm.

The forest soon echoes with your pleasure; his strained groans, your high moans, the rustle of foliage under your back and the wet smack of flesh. You nuzzle your face into his own neck, the alpha’s powerful scent making you dizzy. All thoughts are replaced with sensation, your only focus the feeling of the cock battering your insides.

The heat raging in your belly turns scorching. You feel the alpha’s knot beginning to swell and a possessive urge takes over, making your wrap your legs around his hips. You’ve never needed anything more in your life, you’re certain.

When you reach the precipice once again, you don’t have the presence of mind to warn him, but you’re sure he can feel it in the way your slick muscles clench around his length. With a rumbling moan, he shoves his knot into your spasming channel and you scream, eyes rolling back, every muscle pulled taut in blinding euphoria.

Panting, heart thrumming, sweat beading along your brow, you gradually return to earth. Your fingers ache from gripping the alpha so tightly. With difficulty, you pry them from his shirt. Your quivering legs slip off his sides and fall bonelessly to the ground.

The knot seated within you and the spend filling you work to quell the unchecked desire racing through your veins, if only for a little while. The heat will soon return with fervor.

With climax comes clarity, the needy haze in your mind lifting and making way for rational thought. Two things become immediately apparent: One, you have just been bred by absolute stranger, an alpha who had found you in the middle of the forest. Your scent must have drawn him, but where did he come from? You don’t even know his name, for fuck’s sake.

And two: This alpha is a virgin. Or rather, he used to be. The hesitance, the fumbling, the immediate release when he’d entered you…. In the moment, your want-driven mind couldn’t connect the dots.

You let your head fall back. The alpha’s eyes meet yours, but quickly look away again. Is that shame, you see? Fear? Again, you wonder why he wears the mask.

Tentatively, you reach up and push the sweaty hair off his brow. Your fingertips trace the side of his face, your palm coming to rest on his masked cheek. Cautiously, he lifts his gaze to yours.

You clear your throat and murmur, “Um, hi.” You tell him your name and ask, “Can…can you, um, talk?” The man shakes his head and looks away. You nod and gently press his cheek to get his eyes back on you.

“It’s okay. Maybe…maybe you could write your name down for me? When…you know, when we can….” you trail off with a breathy laugh. You feel his cheek grow warm under your fingertips.

One of the alpha’s hands leaves your hip. He brings a finger to the exposed skin under your collarbone. Deliberately, he begins to trace and you realize he’s spelling out his name.

T-H-O-M-A-S

“Thomas?” He nods and you swear you feel his face briefly lift in a grin. You smile back. “Well, Thomas, um. Thank you for helping me, but it’s…uh, it’s gonna get bad here in a minute again so….” As you speak, you feel his knot begin to shrink. You talk faster, “So, I know my scent right now is…how hard it is to think when you’re…so if you want to get away, now might be a good—

You bite your lip when a deluge of cum spills down your ass to drip into the dirt. A whiny moan crawls up your throat. You want to curse the way your core pulses, your insides just beginning to smolder.

Thomas inhales deeply. You know your pores are leaking hunger yet again. Before you can speak, the world lurches.

Thomas grasps you around the middle and flips onto your front. Impatiently, he lifts your hips up, hard cock grinding against your slit. He’s bolder this time, more sure of himself when he buries his girth deep in your guts.

Now, at least you have a name to scream.

[mi-i-zori]

Mii’s Thoughts - Ghost - 1

CoD - Ghost x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Just a thought about the Ghost Distribution System.

WARNINGS : None.

Author’s Note : I know I might be late to the party, but I felt the need to share this after reading so many good stuff about this topic. I think this was @ghouljams ‘ idea ?

I do not give permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or any other platform, including AI.

What if, after meeting his darling, Ghost suddenly decided to give up on his military life ?

What if his thoughts were constantly circling back to the angel he met not so long ago, their halo illuminating his never-ending darkness with the warmth of a campfire into the night, drawing him to them in the hopes of finally getting rid of the cold plaguing his existence ? What if it distracted him enough lead him to be more and more careless on the battlefield, igniting worry in their eyes every time he came back ; and he couldn’t forgive himself for it ? What if he finally decided to get away from all the violence and gore he once thought he was meant to live for after getting reprimanded over and over, realising that he does not belong on the front lines anymore ?

His angel is waiting for him at home - or is he waiting to got back to them ? He doesn’t really care anymore, for he knows he has to return to them. His hands are covered in a layer of rusty blood, the kind he will never be able to fully get rid of, and he is far from being worthy of tainting them even through the faintest touch.

Yet he is meant to kneel at their feet, kiss the hem of their clothes and savour the sound of their voice. Each second he spends in a military base increases the risk of losing them - of losing his everything all over again.

And this is not something he can afford.

He is a heathen, that he knows. Yet he’s finally found his purpose through the eyes of a being unaware of their own divinity. And he shall spend the rest of his life giving his entire self away worshiping their every breath.

So what if he came home one day, once again lingering on their doorstep like a stray dog seeking shelter from the rain, waiting for them to answer their door to announce he is finally retiring - slotting himself in their life for good ? He probably doesn’t have a backup plan, and completely forgot how to function properly in a world he spent so many years away from. But he found a light to follow in the middle of the night, a pillar to cling to amongst the never-ending storm.

Isn’t that all he needs to survive ?

[lokislittlesigyn]

New Loungefly Loki bags? Sort of metallic, inside of the small bag and wallet are yellow and green. Couldn’t open the backpack. No outer pocket on the backpack, uncertain on the interior. Smaller bag has some pen holders.

Interesting set - they also have a matching notebook.

[yanderederee]

ClinicVisit

March29th, 2004

Before… › here! › next! › …

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Baji jerked awake suddenly, the sound of his home phone ringing unusually loud. He’d been waiting for the sound all weekend….

… what for again?

He lay there spaced out, gathering his barings after the third ring.

“Ah shit, the vet!” He grumbled, and ran to the phone, hoping it didn't go to voicemail before he made it.

“Baji Keisuke, hello?” He quickly uttered into the phone after pressing the answer button. Still gravely from sleep, he felt a little embarrassed for how he’d sounded.

Waiting, he realized it took a lot longer for them to respond than he thought it would.

“Hello?” He spoke more clearly.

“O-oh.. Uh, Hey, Baji…!” Spoke a meek voice, nothing like the middle aged women he’d left the stray cat with a few weeks ago. It took him a second, not recognizing the voice over the phone.

“I-It’s y/n… Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You replied to the silence with more composure.

“Oh… Uh, no problem. What’s up?” He yawned, scratching his scalp with vigor. He’d been having his hair slicked back more than usual these days, now that your study sessions were becoming more frequent, what with midterms next month.

“Right, so, I was kind of bored, and went shopping,” You began to explain, a little rustle could be heard in the background, making him guess you were fiddling with a plastic bag. “And I found these Adorable little cat sweaters! And, there were these limited edition flavored treats, so I picked some of those too!”

Baji found himself smiling warmly at your excited voice, the rush of adrenaline from waking up too quickly began to easing. Peace immited the empty apartment as you spoke in his ear.

“So… Have you heard anything back yet? A-about Songo’s recovery?” You asked, seeming to shrink your voice after realizing that you’d been talking for two and a half minutes straight. Earning a little chuckle, Baji replied honestly.

“I’ve been expecting a call for a few days now, nothing yet though. I was thinking about checking up at the clinic after breakfast.” He noticed the little plate of rice and salmon his mom had fixed before work.

You seemed to perk at the mention of visiting the little feline. “Oh, can I come?! I’d really like to see her!” You beamed. why was his face suddenly so hot? “Uh… Sure, I guess.” Baji looked at the time. Barely 7. You really Did call early. He heard you giggling over the phone and his heart squeezed again.

“I can drive by in half an hour to pick you up?” He asked, starting to take off the wrap from his breakfast.

“Drive?” You asked, obviously confused.

Shit, he thought.

Still, you hadn’t seen him for what he was; a delinquent. He had yet to reveal anything about himself, behind his thick rimmed glasses and slicked back hair.

Of course you didn't know he drove a motorcycle. Sure, he associated with some questionable classmates, but you never looked further into it.

He struggled to think of an excuse, it's not like he wanted to lie, but maybe admitting he drove a motorcycle was too soon.

Wait, why was he so focused on keeping any of this a secret from you? Sure, it was a more approachable appearance, but he wasn’t meant to be. Why worry so much over how You saw him?

Oh.

He thought to himself, prolonging the silence plaguing the phone call. ‘I don’t want her to think poorly of me,’ to get scared of him like any other girl who spotted him crossing the street.

“Baji? A-are you there?” You asked, worried.

“Oh, sorry, I misspoke– Or uh, no I… I mean, I can meet you at that one intersection in half an hour, that okay?” He asked, cursing himself with a furious blush taking over him. How and why the hell did he mumble so much?!

Before giving a verbal reply, he was graced with your chiming giggle once more. “Yeah, I’ll meet ya there! Oh, I’m just going to dress casually, it’s a weekend after all.” You mentioned, almost as though to insinuate he should do the same. Was he reading that right? He wasn’t sure, Chifuyu was the one who got these kinds of things, hell, even Ryusei.

“Right. See you later.” He gruffed, hanging up the phone immediately, screaming at how fucking awkward he felt.

—------

True to your word, you stood by the intersection that split your home direction from Baji Keisuke’s.

You were indeed dressed casually. Not in the usual cute school uniform he was used to seeing you in. Appropriate for the weather, you sported a trendy sundress and sandals. He loved the way your hair also matched, done just a little different than usual.

You were so cute.

He couldn’t tell until he got closer, but you also had something tightly gripped in your hands.

“Looks’ like you made lunch for an entire sports team, for christsake.” Baji found himself leisurely jabbing. Gripping the furashiki tighter, you readjusted the bento boxes in hand.

Deciding he wasn’t ready to give up the image you have of him in your head, he made sure the fake thick rimmed glasses were clear of all smudging, and hair pulled back without its part this time.

His closet was a little on the alternative, he noticed today. He knew he had a style in the works, but not a lot else.

So, a pair of summer shorts and a fitted black t-shirt and some tennis shoes later, there he stood.

Once you’d noticed his arrival, you go ahead and blind the poor guy with a sunshine like smile, a happy chuckle, to credit his jab, no doubt.

What the hell?

What was that light?

Why is he spacing out?

You wore your hair differently?

The neckline of your dress was lower than your school uniform, earning a innocent view of your collar bones.

Your collar bones.

“Baji?” Pupils wide and still recovering from the shock, Baji found himself thrown back into reality. Now face to face with your resting curious face.

“Sorry, sun caught… In… the glasses.” He replied.

…

Silence.

…

…

…

‘HOW LAME!’

Baji Keisuke screamed in his head so loud he was sure his head would explode with how loud it was. That's why his face was getting red, right?

It was so painfully obvious that he was simply starstruck by your more relaxed form. Unlike Baji, you were one to read situations, and move on ..with a bit more confidence.

“Well, I was doing some research on what kinds of food are good for cats, and what helps them with recovery…” you lugged the awkward shape in your non-dominant hand. You had at least four bento boxes worth of food, all neatly wrapped with no wrinkles or edges.

“I was bored so I kinda made some. It's all good for both humans and cats alike!” You gave a thumbs up, clearly proud.

Baji seemed unimpressed. “Why’d you bring all of it though?” He asked. “It’d be less trouble to have brought her just one box? There’s no way she can eat that much.”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you gave half an eye roll. “Well, I thought some of Sango’s new kitty friends might appreciate a home cooked meal as well, don’t you think?”

Baji laughed, your reasoning seemed sound but it was obviously not the whole truth. “And what if they don’t accept outside food? Vets have to be careful what they feed their patients.” He teased gently. You made it so easy for him, too.

“Well, I guess I have no choice but to eat it; won’t I? A picnic wouldn’t sound too bad.”

“So what, you wanna join me?~” you offered.

“For a picnic?” He asked. You nodded, earning a more thoughtful expression to ghost over Baji’s features.

Baji’s never had your cooking before. Realizing this may be the opportunity to do just that, he shrugged. “No harm in it, I guess.”

Keisuke gracefully slid the furashiki’s handle from your hand into his own—-another trick he learned living with an overworked single mother. You almost looked like you were going to protest, but you were quickly stopped by the grin on your classmate’s face.

Composing yourself within a matter of milliseconds, you asked, “Baji, have you thought about getting contacts? I’m sure it’d make you look more mature.”

“And speaking of,” You continued, glancing at the wavy black hair pulled tightly into a low half bun half ponytail. “Your hair’s so healthy looking, wearing it up all the time is bound to give you split ends.”

Now, Baji has never been a fan of being lectured, but it was kind of hilarious how ironic it was. He purposely disguised himself from the very things you encouraged.

He just couldn’t help himself when he laughed, stifling it as best he could. “Hey! What’cha laughing at?” You pouted again, bumping his arm with your elbow.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

The vet was close by. Baji knew it well, since he’s been a regular in their rotation of stray felines. The current vet said so himself, that Baji could make a good vet one day. He kind of liked the idea, but how lame.

Baji knew he was going to do something awesome, like professional motorbiking or something.

Once he walked in, he held the door open expectantly for you, another gesture he didn’t remember doing before, even for his mom. “Morning Kei!” Smiled the middle aged receptionist, coming to a stand. “Good morning.” The two middle schoolers greeted her in unison.

“Well aren't you cute! You finally got a girlfriend, oh I knew you would, such a kind boy like you–” Baji interrupted her with a rudely loud grunt. “She’s the classmate of mine who found the long hair calico,” He announced, as though he’d told the women about you before.

Sensing his embarrassment, she let out a gentle ‘ope’ and retreated.

(You almost thought you heard ‘nosy hag’ being whispered under a breath, but surely not Baji.)

“Well, amazing news Kei! It looks like Sango here has made a complete recovery!” Announced another familiar worker, sporting a lab coat and gloves.

“Sango!” You chirped once seeing her cleaned and conditioned fur. “She’s so beautiful!”

The vet, you assumed, paused at your words, struck. “Oh you must be Keisuke’s girlfr–” “Classmate.” Baji corrected naturally, the air awkward, but laughably so. “Right, well, I’m happy to say not Only has she made a wonderful recovery, but Sango is also taking to the faux legs like a fish in water!”

“She’s already tried them out?” Baji stepped closer; the close proximity of his presence behind you suddenly making you feel small and– a flush took over your face and a shiver was sent through you. Weird.

“She sure has, wanna see?” The vet asked, not giving either of them a chance to reply before displaying the faux legs, which seemed more wheel-like, but smart design made so there was a functional joint to switch between laying down and standing.

Inspecting the advancement of modern tools, the two of you marveled as the vet sat Sango’s nubbed lower half into the seat, strapping her in snuggly.

Like a dog excited to see its owner, Sango swirled in circles toward Baji, pressing her cheek against his waiting hand with a loud purr.

You both watched as Sango ran back and forth between you two, the vet, and random toys. “She’ll need some time to get used to the balance difference, and has one last round of antibiotics. After that, she’s off to the races.”

The relief almost made you cry. You cradled the affectionate little cat to your cheek, obviously over the moon.

“By the way, has she eaten yet?” You ask, gently reached for Baji’s wrist, attempting to will it closer for access to the folded bentos. Baji internally screams again, your soft skin against his feeling starkly different.

He was having a stroke, right? He felt like he was going to puke, what the hell—

“I made a bunch of nutrient rich cat meals and treats!” You admitted, pulling out one of the– Wait, Baji had miscounted the last time he looked, there were definitely— Eight boxes. “I thought we could share with Sango’s friends!” You asked, expectantly.

Unluckily, not many animals actually were kept in clinics.

“Guess I did go overboard.” You laughed, seemingly unfazed. Yet, how come Baji took notice in a little look of disappointment. The expression went completely unnoticed, otherwise.

It was only then he started to notice how closely he hovered over you. It must be uncomfortable for you. He cursed himself before adding some space for your sake. “Say, if you’re looking for a bunch of cat friends to have lunch with, I know a place.” Baji attempted to tease.

Obviously thrilled by the invitation, you were curious where he meant.

“Sango should be ready for domestic life by tuesday!” the vet said happily, with a farewell gesture. “And Kei!” Sang the receptionist, giving the boy a thumbs up. “Let your hair down, stop bein’ such a stiff!”

Baji was baffled by the insult, he seriously Almost barked at her.

Upon leaving the clinic, you happily twirled around to face him,

“So, where’s that place with all your cat friends?~”

[danicloth]

Commissions Open! ✨💜✨

Same as always, only for a week!

Please check the new prices 😊💕

[phoenixkaptain]

“Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately.

“You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek and told Grogu to stop eating his blocks.

Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Boba Fett falls for Luke Skywalker. It isn’t the funnest thing he’s ever done.

[bopaaaa]

Hi👋 How have you been all week? I couldn't post because I had a lot of work to do this week.😢

In the meantime, I'm making the most of my time and drawing one illustration . As for the illustration featuring pem and asra, I wanted to draw it in more detail than last time, and I am still working on it because the coloring took a long time. I think about 70% has been completed, but there are still a lot of parts to be corrected... It will take 2 days at the earliest and 7~8 days at the latest.

In the meantime, if the conditions are met, I will post scribbles little by little. Then everyone, I hope you have a great day today🥰!

[flecks-of-stardust]

who gave birds the right to be so baby

[lostestleo]

So there is a dog whining in the distance, and the thought of it being distressed is actually making me tear up. This sensitivity shit feels like a curse. Seriously, why can’t I just be hard as fuck. I wanna be hard af, so much.

[sunboki]

PLEASE EVERYONE LOOK AT MY CARRD I SPENT 4 HOURS ON IT :’)

inspo for carrd

my carrd

[melodiousramblings]

Heat and Heartbreak

(I’ve dearly missed writing, and I just watched Elation again for like the 15th time or something, so have a little drabble, set at the end of the episode.)

“Why don’t you come inside Marinette? Alya’s been so worried about you.”

Marinette gently nudged her cheek against Tikki’s head, seeking the little Kwami’s comfort, any comfort she can find.

The tears hadn’t spilled yet, but they threatened to with growing intensity. “I’ll be down in a minute. I just need some more fresh air.” It wasn’t a lie; her eyes stung and the crackling fractures in her heart were leaving a burning ache in their wake. To be honest, she would need more than just a minute, but Alya would have questions and she couldn’t leave her best friend waiting for long.

“Okay,” Tikki responded with a gentle pat to Marinette’s cheek before flying off, back into her holder’s bedroom.

[[MORE]]

With no one else to watch her, Marinette let the tears spill, trails of wet fire down her cheeks. Surely they glistened in the moonlight, a moonlight so stunning it mocked her with its beauty. She could still feel the rush of excitement, standing miles and miles up in a sky dotted with stars, with Chat Noir, as they searched together for André the ice cream man. She could still feel the protective warmth of her kitty’s arm around her.

Another tear, another fracture in her chest. How could she forget the endless and vibrant green of his eyes, the flutter of his blond hair, the night-cooled skin of his cheeks and nose as she kissed them, the softness of his lips as they kissed each other. Sweet memories, all of them tainted by Monarch’s cruelty. She was almost akumatized. Because of love.

No.

Because the most heartless man in all of Paris tried to use her love against her.

But she couldn’t let herself dwell on it too much. She didn’t need the heat of fury to mix with the heat of heartbreak. Sadness was more than enough for now. Besides, she was keeping Alya waiting. Maybe a snuggle with her best friend, a movie, and some popcorn could help patch a few of the cracks in her heart.

Sighing, Marinette rubbed at her face, breathing in deep to force the tears away. There would be more later, no doubt. But she was grateful for the small sink in her bedroom; a cold splash of water over her face sounded nice right about now.

With a final look at the moon above, she blew a kiss to the sky, to wherever Chat Noir might be now, her beloved partner, hopefully safe and warm in his own home.

——————————

Chat Noir couldn’t go home. Not quite yet. Not with the roaring echo of heartbreak in his ears. Marinette loved him. Had loved him? Does love him. But not Adrien. Not anymore, if there was truth to her words. Sighing, Chat Noir stopped, dropping down onto a roof somewhere on the way to his house. He turned back. He hadn’t gotten very far, still able to see Marinette’s home from a distance, still able to see Marinette herself, slumped over the railing of her balcony and curled into herself.

Sighing, he leaned on his stick and watched her. The least he could do was make sure she made it back indoors safely, right? Or was it rude to watch her when she was potentially as heartbroken as he was? Would she be crying? Was it horrible of him to sort of almost kind of want her to? Because then… then he could be sure she did indeed love him.

But… wait, no. Loving him as Chat Noir was unfair to her. He wanted her to love him as Adrien again. If he weren’t so conflicted over everything that night, his heart would be soaring over the knowledge that Marinette had been in love with him, with Adrien.

Unless she really doesn’t anymore. Love was so beyond his scope of understanding, he had no clue what to do, as Adrien at least. As Chat Noir, he had to keep his distance, no matter how lovely she’d looked that night, no matter how warm she felt in his arms, no matter how her beautiful blue eyes completely outshone the glittering moon… Not even how soft her lips had been, on his face, against his own lips.

“Marinette…” Chat sighed dreamily, remembering their first kiss, before it all went wrong, before he hurt her, before Monarch tried to-

His mind and his heart briefly elsewhere, he almost missed it as Marinette wiped at her cheeks- ah, so she had been crying- and blew a kiss to the sky before turning toward her trapdoor. Had that been meant for him?? His heart twisted.

Straightening up, Chat Noir blew a kiss in return, in her direction. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t possibly have seen it. His intent was there. “Goodnight, Marinette,” he whispered, only turning away once she fully disappeared from sight.

Time to return to a cold house, to a cold room with a cold bed, much too large for one person. If only he had the comforting warmth of another person. Well, at least Plagg would be there. His cheese-loving kwami would always be good company, especially in times of heartbreak.

Strange, how cold it suddenly felt that night.

[christadeguchi]

(✿◕‿◕) die (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)

[mintytrifecta]

[image description: the bugs bunny in a tuxedo "I wish all (blank) a very pleasant (blank)" meme edited to say "I wish all of my Jewish followers a very pleasant rosh hashanah". In front of Bugs there is a jar of honey, a stack of apples and pomegranates. In front of bug's mouth there is a shofar.]

[tizzymcwizzy]

this is a poster i made for my call to action assignment in humanities! it's a bunch of basic and easy stretches for people who sit and work at a desk all day (me)

the idea is that you'd put the poster up above ur desk and do the stretches every 30 minutes or so,, the whole routine won't take more than about 6 minutes to complete and when done regularly it can prevent wrist, shoulder, neck and back pain! :)

all these stretches can be done while sitting (although i HIGHLY recommend you stand up and move around while taking a break from working)

you can get a free digital copy of this poster here on my gumroad!

and you can order a print/poster here from my inprnt!