#just a silly no sketch drawing for today . sometimes i like to just go straight in with lineart

[cavewolf]

my bg3 pc, catherine (kitty) ..! she's a noblewoman bard

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with artist reader and like R makes them art all the time weather it's using them as an art reference and having a bunch of doodles of them, or painting full portraits of them, or like painting pictures of their pets🪩🩷🥹🛸

ooooo I'm an artsy weirdo so here you go!!! thanks for the request ; also this is the day I figure out the ufo emoji existed

MCYT ; artsy reader

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro u got a whole sketchbook dedicated to doodles of him and his character versions in mc smps (dsmp, osmp, etc)

you love painting him in watercolors 🫶🫶

you made him a watercolor portrait thing with the HTBAB logo behind him, freddie & jack

he treasures the art you give him

literally frames it and hangs it on the wall or puts it on the shelves in his office

sometimes he'll take a picture of them and posts them w ur consent to show off your talent

"look what y/n made me 🫶" or "now wtf why can't I have this kind of talent?"

will chill out with you while you're drawing/painting etc

you go over to his parents house ONCE and make a family portrait + the dogs for them

that painting hangs above their fireplace, his parents look at it everyday

he does little drawing competitions with you on stream just to bond with you a bit and make you laugh

like the "we go back to school" video, the paint gets everywhere because of him LMAO

will straight up show off your sketchbooks on stream too

TUBBO

absolutely loves that you draw him

and the fact you have so much q!tubbo and sunny fanart 💔💔

he hangs all the physical art up around his house

you made a little oil pastel portrait of you two with tommy, freddie & molly under you like they were your kids 😭🙏

it hangs in a frame in his background so everyone watching stream can see it

he absolutely loves your character designs and your art style/s

you straight up animated the life by the sea music video as a little present for his birthday

took 5 months but you got it done 💪💪

genuinley rewatches it a million times

he posted it to his YouTube as well to show off your talent

adores watching you draw/paint in silence

and he loves posing for you to help you get a good reference

beware cause he'll start complaining after 30 seconds

RANBOO

absolutely loves showing off your art and praising you for it

you've made them so much genloss fanart

you even made them a few channel banners, especially after the rebrand (and they will never change them ever again omg)

gives you a bunch of ideas for drawing

you love drawing the lanky d!ranboo and gl!ran especially w the mask and wide arrangement of wires and stuff

you made a textured painting of genloss!ranboo and it sits on one of the shelves in his office

he's obsessed with touching it and feeling the paint

its like feeling the hours of work you put into it, something just for them

also loves posing for you

they will get so extravagant and unique with it LMAO

FREDDIE BADLINU

anything you make for him is a treasure

you made a little portrait of him and his closest friends, and it hangs on his bedroom wall where he can see it constantly

shows off your art and totally praises you for it

does silly poses for you to reference

you've made him a couple screensavers and stream starting soon pages

he absolutely loves your color pallettes good god

Freddie in acrylic paint>>>>>

"guys look at what my amazing partner made me today 🫶❤️"

sends you links to Instagram shorts or whatever to little crafts/ideas if you're having artist block

he finds a notebook full of sketches and random blurbs of/about him when you get bored and shit and have nothing better to do

absolutely head over heels because the fact you spend so much time making art of/for him, omg

if you bleach-paint shirts yk damn well he's wearing whatever you made him 24/7

NIKI NIHACHU

absolutely loves your character designs for her characters, they're all so unique and different and she loves it

your designs of osmp!niki are her favorite, considering she's literally a mermaid

the art you make with all her tattoos and piercings>>> omg

either totally adorable or totally badass

"more biker! niki bc she needs to learn how to bike rn... @/nikinihachu"

"amazing as always y/n/n 🫶 maybe I will..."

loves just quietly watching you do your thing

her and watercolor paints will never not be perfect

you make a whole mural for her because you got bored...

it's an abstract kind of goth-ish mermaid kinda thing on one of her office walls, and 'nihachu' spread across it in white, kinda cursive lettering, it's amazing

always making silly little doodles of her too

ALEX QUACKITY

cant even comprehend how talented you are

he always sees you drawing him and painting him and he's like "bro go touch grass u spend too much time thinking about me"

you also made a textured painting for Tiger

it's his prized possession, he loves it to much

almost broke down and cried when you gave it to him

loves looking at all the little doodles, drawings and character designs

his favorites are the ones of him with dynamic arm poses, even if you think they're bad

he thinks it adds a lot more personality and makes him look better LMAO

he loves and appreciates that you spend so much time on something about/for him, and so often as well

he looks so good in gouche paints that's all I'm saying

and in a kinda graffiti style as well omg

FOOLISH GAMERS

absolutely adores all the art you make of him

he'll even pose so you can get references and shit LMAO

him and watercolor paints... lord

AND COLORED PENCILS

any painting you've made for him is hung up on the wall

loves seeing your character designs for his dsmp/qsmp etc characters

he also shows them off online and points out all the cool things you've added and shit

even if it's just simple doodles of him, you'll add a splash of color w a marker or highlighter and he thinks it looks so awesome

you have post it notes all over your wall thatre just doodles of him and shit

you painted his shark logo on a giant canvas for him for a YouTube video

like 59 hours later you completed it and gave it to him as a birthday gift

he doesn't shut up about it after that

literally brags about it like he's a 15yo who just got a girlfriend for the first time before all his other friends

[anton-luvr]

can you do anton x gender neutral reader where they’re coworkers at a book store and when they have to pass books to each other to put away or do their duties with, they put little notes to each other and it’s sticking out and then that’s how anton asks us out

# WITH YOU.

𖦹 bf!anton x gn!reader | fluff | coworkers to lovers au

𖦹 note ; this is so cute ARGH thank u for requesting anon!!! and thank u for waiting too, i hope u like it! <3 + reqs are CLOSED !

Dealing with your boss was the most difficult part of your job.

Barely anyone came in to the local bookstore you worked at, but your boss would always insist on purchasing boxes and boxes of books that would go untouched, leaving it to you and your coworker, Anton, to unbox and shelve them.

You used to despise it, till Anton came up with a silly solution to make the task more bearable.

He would Google up the stupidest jokes and scribble them down on little Post-It notes, placing them randomly in the books.

If he was feeling extra, he'd even write down your horoscope.

It was nothing much, but it was enough to make you smile when shelving the books away.

After a while, you started to do the same for Anton. You would sketch drawings of cats, sometimes sketching famous memes to earn the melody of Anton's laughter for almost five minutes straight.

It soon became habit for the both of you, each leaving a colorful Post-It note to surprise the other on shelving day.

But for today, you don't think you'll have enough time.

Your boss had truly gone insane.

Sales were at an all time low, but he had just purchased five boxes of books. 'Need them scanned and shelved by 5pm, latest.' his text message read, followed by a simple 'okay! :)' from Anton.

You were too annoyed to reply.

"This is crazy," you sigh dramatically, resting your head on the shelf with a thud. "We're never going to finish this before five!"

Anton tuts from his seat at the counter, where he's seemingly busy scanning the books into the system. "Come on, we got this. I'll scan these up as fast as I can and come help you shelve them."

You groan, reluctantly picking up novels and sliding them into the wooden cases. "Fine." you grumble.

Now, if you had stopped being so upset about it and turned around, you'd see what Anton was really doing.

He was writing furiously on pink Post-It notes while he bit his bottom lip anxiously, heart racing a mile a minute.

Hoping you didn't notice, he grabbed some books and stuck each one of them randomly.

Nervously, he takes a deep breath.

"Y/N," he calls out, picking up the stack of books. "There's another stack here to be shelved."

You grunt a response, almost done with the literature shelf you were working on.

"Can you pass them to me? That way I can get this done faster." you asked, exasperated. Anton nods and scurries over immediately, gripping the books so hard that his knuckles were white.

But the pieces of pink paper sticking out of the books catches your attention, and an excited smile falls on your lips.

"Ooh, there's a lot of sticky notes today." you tease. "What is it this time? My horoscope or a motivational quote?"

To your surprise, Anton only shrugs, holding the books out towards you without a word.

Raising an eyebrow, you glance at your coworker suspiciously. "It better not be some sort of insult," you threaten jokingly, not knowing it was going to be quite the opposite.

The first Post-It note you come across tells you just that.

Very simply, written in black marker, was the letter 'G'.

Confused, you turn it towards Anton. "What's this?" you ask. "What does G stand for?"

Playing dumb, Anton shrugs again. "I don't know, you'll just have to keep checking them to see."

Your confusion grows as you receive more and more letters, and you stick them to the shelf for you to keep track.

The last Post-It note was a question mark, and you were just as puzzled. "I don't get it." you mumbled, holding it up for Anton to see. "Is this some kind of riddle?"

Still not talking, Anton points at where you had stuck the Post-It notes.

The moment your eyes run over the chunky alphabets, the message 'GO ON A DATE WITH ME?' rings in your head.

"Me?" you echo, facing Anton with eyes wide with surprise.

Mistaking your reaction for rejection, Anton panics.

"I-It’s fine if you don’t want to, I was just asking!" he squeaks, and he turns around to run back to the counter where he could hide in embarrassment.

But you stop him, pulling him by the arm to face you.

"Hey, I would love to." you reply softly, smiling.

"Really?" he mumbles, eyes shining with pure joy. He knew there would be a fifty percent chance of you saying yes while he planned all this, but it felt surreal to hear you actually agree to go out with him.

"Yeah," you laugh, ruffling his hair.

"Okay then!" he chirps, smiling shyly. "Do you want to go get dinner together on Saturday? Or does Sunday work better for you?"

You hum, putting another book on the shelf.

"Anytime is fine for me," you say, your cheeks warm at the newfound fact that your cute coworker was into you.

"As long as it’s with you."

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[korissideblog]

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

[myelocin]

so this is love | hanamaki t.

synopsis: takahiro dances with you, in the kitchen, with two left feet and tomato sauce on his cheeks. but still, it feels like home.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you

genre: fluff/ domestic fluff

wc: 1600+

you kind of want to dance sometimes.

it’s a little silly, and you catch yourself saying that you probably should be learning about the reality of the world by now, but sometimes you really can’t help it.

there was the daddy daughter dance in elementary, where you’d always hide the fliers from your mom so she wouldn’t see. you think you would have worn the golden little high heeled shoes you liked so much.

you think of the homecoming dances every year from junior high to your senior year of high school, the smile stretching on your face afterwards always leaning a little more towards sad than happy. a night spent in the corner of the room, smiling at the pairs of eyes smiling under the dim lights; hands that were made to hold fit together like little puzzle pieces, their bodies moving in motion as if it was simply second nature to sway along to a beat. 

“you could have danced still,” takahiro tells you one night, in the kind of voice that he uses when he asks how are you with a different sort of tenderness.

he isn’t looking straight at you when he says it; your eyes trained on his back as he stands in front of the stove. one hand holding a ladle as the other grips the handle of the pot in front of him. 

you shift your body, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your folded hands, head turned towards takahiro who moves with a set of slow, practiced, familiar movements.

you smile.

“it wouldn’t have been good for my reputation if i just danced by myself to a slow song in the middle of the dance floor, hiro,” you laugh.

takahiro scoops a little of the soup from the pot and blows, leaning forward to take a sip. he hums in approval at the taste, smacking his lips a couple of times in exaggeration, turning to laugh with you when he hears you chide at him for the noise.

“since when did you care about what people thought about you?”

“i don’t want to look lonely in front of people, hiro,” you answer in honesty. 

takahiro smiles as he stirs the content in the pot a few more times before he turns off the flame and closes the lid on the pot. “so you’re lonely?”

you look to your left, past the entrance of the kitchen and into the mantle above the fireplace where despite the dim lights you could make out the takahiro’s photographs from highschool. cropped strawberry brown hair, crescents for smiles, and a corsage with flowers identical to the one on his sister’s hand pinned on his chest. 

“you went to prom with your sister,” you snort. “and yet you have the audacity to call me lonely.”

“i felt bad for her because no one asked her to prom when it was her year,” he huffs, and from your seat at the table you laugh when you notice that his cheeks are a little more pink than usual. 

“i’m not lonely,” you answer after the laughter passes. “at least not all the time.”

takahiro allows the silence to signal for your continuation. then when the atmosphere felt safe enough—you lean forward and rest your head in the center of your folded hands.

the room feels warm, so you close your eyes.

“i’m lonely when i think about the parts of my life where i was alone.”

he sighs a long sigh once before he turns, leaning his body against the counter to the left of the stove, facing you. when he smiles, something aches in your chest. a feeling that’s both familiar and foreign; welcome, yet unwelcome.

he always did outline the sketch of uncertainty in your life in bold. 

“why do you say you’re alone?” he asks, and the voice he uses to deliver his question tells you that he’s a little hesitant with his approach.

still, you lay your truth bare. you always did think that showing yourself scars and all was a terrifying feat, but at the recollection of where you are in the present has the tension rolling right off of your shoulders. like the calm waves on a quiet shore.

“i was alone because for a big part of my life i was terrified to admit to myself that all i really wanted was to hold someone’s hand.”

across the room, takahiro smiles. “when you danced?”

“maybe.”

“we can dance now,” he offers.

“you tripped over your own feet during our first dance,” you snicker, peeking at him from through the fallen strands of your hair. 

takahiro grins, beaming down towards you, and in the makeshift silence you delight in the sound of his footsteps drawing closer towards you.

you always liked the sounds of home, you think. 

the pitter patter of takahiro’s mismatched home slippers padding across the wooden floors of your apartment; the creaky cabinet that he swore he was going to fix last week, but ended up worsening anyway. when the chair across you slides across the floor with sounds familiar to you, you smile even wider because you think it kind of sounds like a melody. 

then like the climax of the most beautiful song, takahiro’s voice chimes in, “get up, we’re going to dance.”

you stare at him, holding out one hand towards you. and like always, looking a little silly with the strings of his apron undone and tomato sauce smudged on his left cheek. 

“did you just ignore the part where i brought up your favorite part about our wedding night?”

takahiro rolls his eyes, his hands immediately clasping around yours as he quickly pulls you to your feet. “i did not trip. i just made an oopsie.”

“you face planted at the reception,” you snort. “mattsun has pictures.”

he’s quick to shush you, guiding your arms around his neck as he settles his own on your waist. he smells like rosemary, and you smile. takahiro must have spent his afternoon a few minutes too long around the windowsill herb garden. 

“those pictures will never see the light of day.”

“mm,” you shrug. “i can always ask for a few copies.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“try me,” you laugh.

it takes a while for you to notice the rhythm takahiro’s set for the both of you, his movements seemingly as uncoordinated as his sporadic hums that you think is supposed to be the music. 

though still, your eyes are on his. two familiar orbs of gray, looking like the beginnings of a fire against the warm lights in the kitchen. when he leans in, nuzzling his nose against yours, a smile breaks out of your face at the laugh that never fails to escape from his chest. 

“hiro, you smell like cheese,” you ask, your eyes closed at the feel of his forehead pressing against yours. 

“i was taste testing the sauce,” he answers.

“so you put cheese in the sauce.”

“i was hoping to sneak it in,” he laughs.

pinching the skin on the back of his neck, you chuckle at his unwarranted confession, “this is not going to end well for you.”

“perhaps the cheese agenda won’t, but every day for us always ends well.”

you smile, content in the fact that even though you’re swaying in a quiet kitchen, led by a man who has two left feet when it comes to waltz, you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“why do you say that?”

takahiro grins, craning his head forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “we’re dancing right now aren’t we?”

you think of takahiro’s prom pictures; a fond smile settling across your features. the smile he wears in the photograph looks warm, and the feeling it delivers to you kind of feels like the moment: a little awkward at first glance, but in place.

a few more taps to the floor from his mismatched house slippers has your heart feeling light. you smell rosemary again, and taste hints of mozzarella when you kiss away the tomato sauce on his cheek.

the feeling of wanting to dance is still there, then you remember where you are. 

you remember that in the moment, today’s just a day where it’s somewhere between a regular monday and christmas, and it’s seven pm where you’re dancing to no music in a fifth floor apartment you moved into with a man you married a little over two months ago. 

there’s pictures on the wall, an herb garden on the windowsill, and tomato sauce with cheese smeared on his cheeks because he’s a little messy when he cooks. you’re letting yourself be led on a tuneless dance with your husband who has two left feet for waltz, and the slippers he has are mismatched. 

there’s no grand story to how you met, fell in love, then stayed in love, but what you have is a hand that’s held out in front of you every time you say that you kind of want to dance. when takahiro smiles, his left eye crinkling more than his right, you know that neither of you are the main characters in life. 

but you smile back anyway, in your own little imperfect way because truth be told, neither of you care. it felt nice to be loved knowing that you didn’t need to be the main character for just that. 

he steps on your foot and you laugh, thumb swiping away the remnants of tomato sauce that tastes a little too cheesy for your liking. 

you think of his words, and how even if some things didn’t exactly play out like the timeline says it would-- the fact of the matter that tonight you’re still dancing remains in place. 

“thank you for dancing with me,” you say, and at your words, takahiro feels home.

[that-yandere-life]

Soulmate Series: How You Meet (Part Two)

Peter Parker-

One day when you were 16 you noticed that little pen marks appeared on your skin.

It was a bunch of formulas for seemingly a chemistry class.

The next day however they were gone, in the same amount of time that ink stays on the skin.

Googling it feeling a little silly like maybe you just imagined it, you quickly got results for a type of soulmate bond.

Part of you wanted to write a note to them to see if anyone answered but at the same time you were afraid.

It took you years to place ink on your skin, until you were finally ready.

You had just suffered through another boring date, your twenties not quite living up to expectations.

Walking home that night you were approached by a man who held you at knifepoint for your bag.

Suddenly swooping in came Spider-Man saving the day, and potentially your life.

After he walked you home you couldn’t help but smile at the very thought of the encounter.

Before bed you started doodling the logo you had seen on his costume, drawing little hearts around it.

Words started to appear, causing you to realize that you had never given them and indication that you even existed.

Explaining yourself you saw the original mark fade as if they washed it off to continue communicating.

After talking until you both agreed to meet at a local coffee shop in a few hours.

Peter instantly recognized you as you walked in, realizing why you were sketching his Spider now.

How could you not feel lucky upon meeting this cute brown eyed boy with the curls?

Wanda Maximoff-

From the time she turned 16 Wanda always had a red ribbon tied around her wrist.

Finding out from others that it meant she had a soulmate, and one day the other end would lead her to them.

For a long time she ignored it, focusing on getting her revenge for the death of her family.

After the fight with Ultron, and narrowly avoiding the death of her brother she found herself longing to find her match.

One day she was out exploring the city after joining the Avengers, when she felt a tug at her wrist.

Deciding that it was time, she started following the ribbon wondering just how far it would take her.

Somehow it didn’t take long for her to reach you, as you lived nearby.

A few times you had tried to follow the ribbon only to get discouraged when it seemed they were never close enough.

Walking through the park you didn’t really pay attention to what was going on around you, until you saw someone stopped right in front of you.

Looking at them curiously you noticed them hold up their wrist, showing that the ribbon was connected to you.

Gasping you were shocked to say the least, but you couldn’t deny the excitement in your heart at finally finding the one for you.

Pietro Maximoff-

Sometimes when one has a soulmate when you turn 18 you get the first words they will speak to you, etched onto your skin.

Luckily you got one of the sweetest messages possible, and you were always hoping to find the one they belonged to.

Are you an angel?

Years passed with no instance of you being able to find the voice that would ring out with those words.

Working with the Avengers meant that you were constantly meeting people, but none were the one you were searching for.

That is until the battle with Ultron, and you saw the one called Quicksilver block Clint and a child from being harmed.

Unfortunately that meant he would likely die from his injuries, but not on your watch.

Rushing over you used your healing ability, using most of your stored energy to save his life.

“Come on, don’t die on me now!”

Pietro began coughing but breathing on his own again as the bullet wounds started to fade away.

Opening his eyes he gazed upon you, and to him you had an ethereal like glow surrounding you.

“Are you an angel?”

Unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth you covered your own in shock.

“What you didn’t see that coming?”

Bucky Barnes-

Bucky had been told the story of his mother meeting his father so many times when he was younger.

They had been soulmates, the way they found out was she accidentally spilled hot coffee all over his lap and he was unharmed.

Many years later that information had been wiped from his memory, never thinking about soulmates again until he was in the healing process.

Slowly getting his memories back he recalled the story making him feel nostalgic and more lonely than ever.

Likely if he had a soulmate they would be dead by now, fate had not been kind to him in the least so why would it be now?

That was until you joined the team, and it was his job to train you on hand to hand combat.

Of course you were both nervous, but quickly got into the groove as you began to spar with each other.

Telling him not to go easy on you made him smirk as he was ready to make you eat your words.

That was until you were distracted and he managed to get a hit on your stomach.

You felt the impact but it didn’t hurt, it hardly even knocked the wind out of you.

Bucky was confused on why his hit didn’t land with more force, causing you to be able to punch him square in the jaw.

Stopping his movements he touched the spot you collided with not feeling any pain at all making his eyes go wide.

Having been told stories from your family as well you suddenly understood what they meant.

Both of you stood there in silence trying to process what the hell just happened.

Samuel Wilson-

No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get out of this mission.

Despite telling Fury and the others that he was about to meet his soulmate, they just didn’t seem to understand.

Pulling back his sleeve he looked at the countdown clock ticking away by the second, any moment and he should be meeting the love of his life.

That was when things went to shit and he couldn’t focus on it any more.

Over the comms he heard Steve yell about how the main target had a civilian with a gun to their head.

Sam was trained for situations just like this so he jumped into action approaching cautiously.

That was when you saw him for the first time, and should it have been under normal circumstances you both would have noticed the timer hit zero.

Carefully he tried to talk the guy into letting you go, but it seemed like they weren’t going to even acknowledge his attempts.

Taking a deep breath he hit a button, sending Redwing out hitting the guy straight in the head incapacitating him instantly.

Luckily he caught you before you hit the ground, unable to move independently because of the shock.

“I guess I did get to sweep you off your feet today after all.”

Gasping you looked at your wrist and then back at him with a soft smile.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all, think of the story you will be able to tell your kids one day.

T’Challa-

Ever since you were born you had the outline of a handprint on your hip, your parents called it a birthmark.

However as you got older you discovered through research that it was the mark of a soulmate, where they would inevitably touch you for the first time.

Thankfully it was typically hidden by any article of clothing you wore, the amount of questions you would get otherwise would be unreal.

It also led you to wonder where you would touch your soulmate for the first time.

Working as an assistant for Tony Stark you ended up meeting a lot of interesting people, although none grasped you the right way.

That was until you were at a party he was hosting, a sea of people surrounding you for you to get utterly lost in.

Somehow in the commotion you were pushed into someone else, feeling them grasp your hip to steady you as you grabbed their shoulder to steady yourself.

Immediately you felt warmth coming from both places and you instantly realized what had just happened.

He stared at you in disbelief before letting go and bowing gracefully introducing himself in a muddled stream of consciousness.

Of course you couldn’t help but be endeared by this man who you had never officially met until now but who didn’t know who he was?

Never did you expect to be a King’s soulmate, but there he was showing you the now gold handprint on his shoulder.

Carol Danvers-

One day after your 18th birthday you started hearing music playing, sometimes it was singing other times it was the actual song.

For a little bit you thought you might be going crazy, that was when a doctor told you about soulmate connections.

Thankfully your soulmate listened to halfway decent songs, mostly comprised of 80’s and 90’s hits.

You could only imagine the stuff that they heard as you worked in a karaoke bar in the evenings.

Sometimes you had nights with great singers and choices in song, but others were the rejects of American Idol in the flesh it seemed.

Never once did you hear the same thing you were listening to, which meant that you were not in close proximity to them.

Until one day you walked into work humming along to the tune in your head, only to realize that it was playing inside the bar.

Taking a few deep breaths you looked around seeing two women singing and laughing with each other just having fun.

Then you watched as the blonde haired one started searching for something...or someone.

Maybe they could hear that you were nearby, could it be that you were each other’s soulmate?

“Let me go crazy, crazy on you.”

Singing it gently in your ear, knowing for sure that you were what the other had been hunting for, for so long.

Stephen Strange-

It could be said that Stephen never really gave much thought to his soulmate, until he became a Sorcerer.

Having the coordinates on where he was meant to meet them, the first time he traveled there he hoped you would be waiting for him.

For all he knew you had given up on meeting him, since it had been a long time for him to reach the point where he was actively searching for you.

Plus there was always the time period to consider, what if he met you in a time that wasn’t considered his own?

Stopping in various time periods he never seemed to meet anyone there.

Until one day he returned there to try again, and there was someone sitting under a nearby tree watching as he approached.

Noticing him stop in the spot where you were supposed to meet you had to rub your eyes to make sure you had actually seen him.

Having gone there on the same day once a week since you discovered what the numbers meant.

Somehow you just never gone at the same time until now.

Walking over to him you raised your pant leg showing him that you had the coordinates too.

Stephen vowed to himself from that moment on to never let you go again.

Wade Wilson-

For the longest you could remember you went to bed drunk, and woke up with a killer hangover.

However you hadn’t drank a drop of alcohol, it was all your soulmate.

Whoever they were you couldn’t help but pity them despite your obvious frustrations with having to deal with all the consequences but none of the fun.

It was clear that their life wasn’t going the greatest, just by the amount that the drinking had increased.

Unfortunately you overslept one morning due to still being drunk, effectively losing your job.

Not that you cared much, it was just a shitty part time job, but you needed it to live.

So to give your soulmate a taste of their own medicine you walked to the nearest dive bar, not the best of places but you didn’t care anymore.

The next few hours were a blur, until a man in a red suit entered the establishment already swaying.

“Finally it seems my soulmate grew some balls, I can’t even see straight. Well I never see straight if you know what I mean reader.”

Overhearing the part about the soulmate your ears perked up.

“I haven’t drank since last night and I’m shitfaced.”

Of course this mysterious man would likely be your soulmate, nothing normal ever happened to you.

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t drink every fucking night they wouldn’t lose their job, and have to get drunk in the middle of the damn day.”

You growled louder than you meant to catching his attention.

Tilting his head to the side he was processing the information, realizing that you had to be the one connected to him.

“You don’t want me for a soulmate anyway.”He scoffed turning back around.

[Part two! Please let me know if you want me to do another one with the X-Men and other X-Force type characters! <3333 The more feedback I get, the more I do with soulmates! Thank you lovelies! <3]

[yamisnuffles]

Dig Down

Part 9 of Too Much of a Good Thing

Hell comes to congratulate Crowley on the Spanish Inquisition. When Crowley's curiosity gets the better of him, he ends of shaken to the core.

Read on Ao3

-

“You, my friend, are a terrible model.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Leonardo. “What? How can anyone be a terrible model? All I have to do is sit about. Maybe you’re just a terrible artist.”

“Maybe so.” Leonardo laughed and set his sketch aside. “But I would hardly call what you do sitting.”

Crowley had one foot tucked underneath him and the other thrown over the arm of the chair. He was reasonably certain he hadn’t started in this position. He’d done his best to channel Aziraphale, back straight and hands folded neatly on his lap, when first Leonardo had started his drawing. He flung both of his legs out and used the momentum to stand. His floor length braid swung pendulously behind him.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an easy shrug. “Sitting around that long is unnatural.”

Leonardo gave him an appraising look. “What’s unnatural is the way you walk.”

Crowley stilled instantly. “What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“I didn’t say it was wrong. Really, it’s quite pleasant to watch but it does make me long to see the muscle and bone beneath. There is certainly something intriguing going on there.”

Aziraphale had commented a few times on the way he walked. Then again, Aziraphale had also commented on his hands, his nose, his hair, his eye, his freckles, his knees, his teeth, and everything else about him. To hear it from another, he worried he didn’t look as convincingly human as he hoped. It made him conscious of every step to a degree that very nearly caused him to trip. He saved himself by leaning against the table where Leonardo’s sketch had been cast aside.

He plucked the red chalk drawing up between long, spindly, ostensibly human fingers and examined it with eyes he knew were not a color found amongst mortal men. The face was cleverly rendered but everything from the shoulders down was decidedly more gestural.

“Mind if I take this?”

Leonardo dismissed the image with a wave. “Go right ahead. I can hardly use it for anything, though perhaps you can repay me by sitting for a portrait. Your face makes for a good study, even if the rest of you refuses to behave. You’d make an interesting angel, I think.” When Crowley sputtered incoherently in response, Leonardo laughed again. “A piece I was commissioned for,” he explained. “Or, part of one, anyway. For now, I have other work to do and I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your angel.”

Crowley felt his cheeks burn. Rather than try for a reply he knew would only come out as a garbled mess, he carefully rolled up the drawing and bobbed his head in thanks. “Well, whenever you want to get that portrait done, you know where to find me,” he said as he hastily made his exit from the studio. He could only take so much embarrassment in one day and he was sure Aziraphale had stored some up for him back at their villa.

Once he was out of the busy streets of Milan, he snapped his fingers. A note appeared, tucked into the drawing. A gift from our mutual friend, it read, to help you anticipate my return home. A grin and another snap sent it ahead.  He could have gone with it but he enjoyed walking the Italian countryside. It put him in mind of breathless, startled confessions of love and kisses under the stars that added a spring to his step. He couldn’t bring himself to worry if that walk was passably human or not. He was all but skipping down the sun baked road when the smell of something putrid wafted through the summer air. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid tripping over Hastur as he rose up through the hard packed dirt.

Crowley scowled. He should have miracled himself home and saved himself the trouble. He could very well still leave but if Hastur was bothering him, it was for a reason. It always was. It was also always something miserable that he didn’t want Aziraphale dragged into. He’d had a few hundred year’s peace after their initial meeting and, while Hastur hadn’t come around with any more job offers, he usually bore information. Wretched, gut wriggling stuff that Crowley was probably better off not knowing but could never seem to resist.

He had enough time to collect himself, to cross his arms and pretend at calm. Annoyance. He knew he could fight if he needed but he really preferred not to. Luckily it had been some time since a demon had forced him to it. Chances were today would be no different. All the same, he’d keep himself wound and ready, should it come to it.

Hastur emerged fully with a sneer already on his face. Crowley resisted the urge to push him right back down into the earth and instead asked, “What do you want? You’re sort of ruining my attempt to enjoy the fresh air.”

The corners of Hastur’s mouth widened slow and sloppily as the filth he reeked of until it formed a too wide smile. “Just came to congratulate you, Crowley. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Crowley merely blinked. He couldn’t think of anything of note that he’d done in the past couple of centuries. Really, he’d been remarkably good, even by his own sometimes nebulous standards. He’d helped inspire a saint or two, been a patron of the arts, and had handed out the occasional blessing. Mostly he whiled away the time with Aziraphale, wherever they found themselves living as Aziraphale did jobs for Heaven. He’d even taken on a few of Aziraphale’s jobs, first as a way to let Aziraphale chase his own pursuits and then simply because he’d wanted to. Aside from helping a fellow angel skip work, he’d practically been a model angel.

“Hit your head on the way up from Hell, did you? I haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t be so modest. Weaponizing questions, really. Everyone Downstairs is impressed with this one. I’m almost jealous.”

Crowley felt a prickling down his spine. Something about this put his teeth on edge. Other than the obvious, that it was Hastur speaking to him, he didn’t know what it was about this that made him so uneasy. He wanted urgently to be home with Aziraphale. It wasn’t just the usual desire to be with his husband but something deeper than his bones. Deep as his very essence. This was the sort of warning urge that had sent him deep into the stars, once upon a time, a warning that things would shift irreparably if he did not act.

He shook the stiffness from his limbs. No need to be tense. No need to run. It was just Hastur and whatever he was babbling about. He hadn’t done anything- he really hadn’t- and nothing the demon said would change that. He took a step to walk around the demon. “If you’re done…”

Hastur angled himself to stop Crowley. He would have grabbed him if Crowley hadn’t already been on the defensive and ready to slip away. “Tell me how you did it? How’d you talk the humans into this Inquisition in Spain?”

- - - -

Crowley wasn’t sure what day it was. He wasn’t sure where he was but the near empty bottle in his hand implied a tavern or something of the sort. Usually drinks were poured into cups, though, so there was a chance he’d grabbed a bottle and taken it somewhere. That, or someone had let him simply drink from the bottle. Either way, probably not any sort of fine establishment. He wasn’t sure if he felt good or bad, either, but that was by design— don’t feel anything, don’t think. Seemed to be working fantastically judging by the fact that he could neither see, sit, nor think straight.

“There you are.”

That voice was familiar. Made something warm settle into the sloshing sea of alcohol in his system. “Here I am,” he agreed.

“Perhaps you should stop drinking a moment and look at me.”

Crowley sank down to embrace the bottle. The glass was cool against the side of his face. It felt nice. “Nah. Think I’ll just stay like this,” he said. Or, tried to say, judging by the slurred garble that slipped out of his mouth. 

There was a long sigh. “Crowley.”

The bottle was carefully pried from his grip. He tried to resist, muttered a few choice curses, but was easily left slumped against his own folded arms. A gentle hand landed on his right elbow and when he turned to look at it, a face came into view. It took a moment for him to focus well enough to bring any of the features clarity but it could have stayed a bright, blessed blur and he would have known that face anywhere.

He picked up his head and beamed. “Ziraphale, s’good to see you.”

“I’m surprised you can see anything, judging by the state of you. Why don’t we get you home?”

Crowley shook his head. He abruptly stopped when the whole world seemed to shake with it. “Nope. Too drunk. Would probably discorpra- discapor- die if I tried a miracle.”

“Well then, why don’t you sober up?”

Aziraphale’s voice was low, sharp, and even. It was the sort of voice that in any other situation would have had Crowley worried but he’d done too good a job of getting rid of silly things like worries at least half a dozen bottles ago. Maybe more. He’d lost track after the first five or fifteen.

“Told you,” he said, resting his chin in the palm of one hand, “no miracles. B’sides, I don’t wanna.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “You don’t want to?”

“Nope.”

Crowley popped the ‘p’ and then repeated the sound until he fell into a fit of giggles.

“Then allow me—”

Everything was too murky for Crowley to remember why exactly the idea of sobering up sent his heart pounding and his stomach plummeting but he instantly snatched Aziraphale’s wrist to stop it from happening.

“No.”

“If you really feel so strongly about it, I won’t. Can you at least tell me why?”

Crowley opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. Every time he reached toward the source of that feeling, something fractured and threatened to fall away completely.

He heard another long sigh. An arm wrapped around his back and another under his legs. Suddenly he was being carried. The lift into the air made him dizzy. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest. His shirt smelled nice. Like… flowers or something. Something pretty and nice. Like Aziraphale.

“You smell nice.”

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale replied flatly. “Do you have a room?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t— where have you been staying all this time?”

“Dunno. Has it been a long time?”

Yet another sigh. Crowley felt like he should start taking count.

“It’s been over a week since I expected you back.” They started moving and Crowley had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop feeling dizzy. “Well then, if you don’t have a room and you won’t let me sober you up, what do you say to me bringing us both back home?”

Home. For much of his existence that had been a moving target with Aziraphale as a constant center. It didn’t need to be a physical place, the heart of it would always exist someplace beyond, but at the moment it was. More importantly, it was somewhere away from here. Whether he could articulate why he didn’t want to be here any longer, he knew how happy he was at the thought of leaving, particularly in Aziraphale’s arms.

Crowley hummed appreciatively and pressed in as close as he was able. There would always be a part of him that worried he would forget this form if he shifted back into his serpentine one but he missed the simplicity of it. He could never feel quite so much as a snake and he could instead rest easier, coiled around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Maybe he still would, when he sobered. He knew that Aziraphale would love him no matter his shape. It might not be better but it would be easier and, at the moment, that sounded very tempting.

There was a feeling of compression and then expansion as a miracle sent them both home. Instantly Crowley was inundated by the rich smell of oak from Aziraphale’s heavy wooden desk with a whiff on top of ink and parchment. He remembered the sound of wind rustling through the olive trees and the scratch of a quill as Aziraphale passed the nights writing while Crowley slept. Or tried to, anyhow. Oftentimes he would lay with one eye open and watch Aziraphale work by candlelight.

He thought of those nights as Aziraphale laid him on a bed that was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. Aziraphale took a seat on the edge of the mattress. Apparently neither of them was willing to break the silence that had fallen between them. Instead, Aziraphale quietly ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Or tried, as he got caught in hair that had managed to tangle despite being braided.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Aziraphale asked as he drew his hand back to himself. “Or bathed? Or did anything to care for yourself?”

“You said I’ve been gone over a week? Then, uh, yeah. Probably something like that. S’not like we need to bathe or anything. Not like humans do.”

“You do if you’re going to soak yourself in alcohol and drunken humans.”

Crowley groaned and buried his face in a pillow. As it happened, an angel’s metabolism didn’t allow for passing out drunk, or that had been his experience over the last however many days of attempting to reach blissful oblivion. Maybe he could sleep, though. That might be alright.

He forgot why he’d been avoiding sleep until it overcame him. He’d gotten complacent since his marriage to Aziraphale. Even in the worst of times, life with his Principality had been a waking dream and the sleeping world had shaped itself accordingly. But the world wasn’t painted in only soft shades of cream and powdery blue, sometimes it was the harsh, steely grey of cruel human ingenuity or the slick scarlet shine of blood. The blood wouldn’t wash from his hands no matter how ferociously he scrubbed. It gathered under his nails, stained his skin, and blemished the band of gold around his finger.

Then there were the screams. They were never ending. If he pressed his palms tight as he could over his ears, they still rattled through his bones. He suspected he would continue hearing them even if he banished his ears altogether with a miracle. He just wanted them to stop. He screamed for them to stop. He begged and pleaded like he had for little else in his long existence. 

Silence returned with two words. “Wake up.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. He breathed in gulps through a raw and ragged throat. He looked impulsively at his hands but they were clean. The screams had been his own, the blood imagined, and yet he couldn’t seem to free himself of the sensation of either. He rubbed senselessly at his forearms until a pair of arms encircled him like a vice and forced him to stop.

“It’s alright, dearest. You’re alright.”

“It’s alright? I’m alright?” he repeated, each statement transforming into a question in the mouth of a non-believer.

“Yes. I’m here. You’re safe.”

This time there was no doubt. There never would be, not in Aziraphale. He relaxed into Aziraphale’s arms.  “Yes.”

“How about a bath?” A snap and the scent of lavender filled the suddenly humid air. “I’ll take care of it. All you’ll have to do is relax.”

Crowley let out a hollow puff of laughter. “Is that all?”

Aziraphale gripped him by the shoulders and sat him up so that they were face to face. There were tears obscuring his storm grey eyes. “Then you don’t need to do even that. Simply let me take care of you as best I can, alright?”

Crowley nodded when his throat tightened too much to make a reply. He loathed seeing Aziraphale cry.

Aziraphale helped him to his feet and out of his clothes. Each article of clothing was removed with more care than it deserved, stiff and smelling as it all did of a week’s worth of drinking in whatever establishment would have him. If he thought too closely on that he was liable to consider once more what had driven him to drink in the first place and, for Aziraphale’s sake, he was determined to at least try to relax.

He set his eyes on their bath. It was a lovely thing made of delicate white marble. Carved on the outside were scenes of angels dancing and drinking and generally having a lot more fun than real ones did. Bathing came and went in vogue with humans, but Aziraphale had developed a special fondness for it in Rome and so they’d kept a private bath wherever they settled since. Such, he supposed, was the luxury of not worrying whether the locals had plumbing anymore or not. One quick miracle and they had a full tub with steam that rolled in easy clouds off the surface.

“Come now,” Azirphale said as he took one of Crowley’s hands, “let’s see if this helps you any.”

Crowley let Aziraphale lead him to the bathtub and then climbed in without letting go of Aziraphale’s hand until he’d lowered himself most of the way down. Aziraphale carefully undid the braided hair that trailed after Crowley like a train. Once done, he gathered it up into a careful coil and deposited it in the water with Crowley. The water rose to the edge but didn’t spill over. It was just enough for Crowley and not a drop more.

Crowley let out a long, trembling breath as the hot water worked its wonders on him. He wasn’t quite as fond of bathing as Aziraphale but he did very much enjoy the act of being bathed. It was a bit like sleeping, without the danger of nightmares. Instead it was the very best sort of dream, shaped by the one he loved the most. Strong, calloused hands worked at the tense muscles in his shoulders and scented water poured over his head from a glittering copper vessel. The ritual of it was a comfort bordering on the sacred.

Aziraphale rubbed a small dab of scented oil on Crowley’s temples. “I got Leonardo’s sketch,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Crowley replied, “or I would have to worry my miracles are starting to go awry.”

Aziraphale nudged Crowley into a seated position so that he could better comb out water loosened tangles. “It was quite lovely. I do hope that you told him that and that you thanked him for his patience. I could tell you were as restless as ever at your sitting.”

“Er—” Had he thanked Leonardo? He couldn’t remember. “Oh! He asked me to come back for a proper portrait. Said I’d make a good angel.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “At least someone thinks so.” The comb hit a snag and was replaced for a moment by careful fingers. “I don’t know how you managed this.”

“Dunno.”

“You do have a talent for finding trouble.”

When one segment was finished, Aziraphale moved to the next and the next in meticulous fashion. Crowley’s eyes fell closed as he sank into the comfortable rhythm of it. He felt like a bit of flotsam tossing gently in the waves without a care in the world. 

“I suppose this hair is what put Leonardo in mind of angels,” Aziraphale continued. “I don’t think you’ve had it this long since Eden.”

Crowley opened his eyes again as he pulled himself from his quiet reverie. “I mean, I was a snake for quite a while after that, so hair was sort of off the metaphorical table.”

“Indeed. But… it’s nice. I like it quite a bit when it’s this long. Of course you know how I love it no matter the length—” Crowley ignored the burn in his cheeks and Aziraphale continued to comb. “—but it’s nice to remember simpler times.”

“For the, what, handful of minutes we had them?”

“Even so.”

Simpler times. Crowley hardly remembered them. Yes, he’d forever recall his first sight of the delightfully soft Principality, high on the eastern wall of Eden, when he’d been nothing more than an out of place Seraph with perhaps a few too many questions on his lips. But any memory of that time was overshadowed by what came after. And then what came after that. And after that. And on and on and on despite all the good mixed in.

Crowley pulled his knees up and hugged them close. “Hey, so, uh, with my rude awakening earlier, I think I’ve sobered up enough to, er…” He ran his tongue over his teeth and pressed extra hard on his left incisor, which had always run a bit sharper. He didn’t want to talk about it but it was a dark and hungry secret that he worried would devour him from the inside out if he didn’t. “I remember everything, if you wanna hear about it.”

Aziraphale stilled for a moment and then continued combing Crowley’s hair. “Only if you want. You can take whatever time you need.”

“No, I should— I want to now. Maybe then I can start to forget without an ocean of alcohol to help me along.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut but when he did, he could see that faces of humans contorted beyond recognition by unfathomable pain. It was no wonder Hell was impressed. The humans were up here serving up the sort of punishments even demons might not have dreamed of. He looked instead at his hands beneath the surface of the water and reminded himself that they were not stained in blood. He tried to remind himself also that they were clean of any guilt in this, but he was less successful on that count.

“So,” he continued when Aziraphale didn’t make any response, “ran into Hastur on the way home.”

“What did that wretched demon do this time? If he’s the one that caused all this, I’ll… I’ll… well, let me think on it but it will be suitably ghastly, I assure you.”

“No, it’s not— he didn’t do anything. Well, guess he did but not like that. Not that I’m against the idea of you laying down some holy wrath on him, if you’re so inclined. But I’m—” Water splashed as he gestured broadly at himself. “Because, well, how much have you heard about the Spanish Inquisition?” He only waited half a heartbeat before charging on. “Hell thinks I cooked it up, since it’s all being done in Her name and with the whole, you know, inquisitive nature of it. Aziraphale, it’s awful.” He emptied his lungs into that word and still it didn’t seem to be enough. “Monstrous. Wretched. Abominable. Really, really… bad. I’d say hellish but apparently they hadn’t even thought up half the things these humans have. Got the impression they’re taking notes.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded so small behind him. “Oh, Crowley. Why did you go look?”

“Had to, didn’t I? If everyone thinks I did it, I should at least know what I’m getting my name on.”

Aziraphale’s hands fell away from Crowley’s hair as he rushed around to the side of the bath. “But you didn’t have anything to do with it! You know you didn’t, my dear, so why torment yourself over what a pitiable bunch of damned creatures think?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re completely out of bounds thinking I’d gone and corrupted the humans again, are they?”

“It’s not— Crowley, how many times are we going to have to have this argument? You can’t take all of humanity’s sins on your shoulders.”

“I can try.”

“You certainly can and I know that you do, but I wish you wouldn’t. The humans will do whatever they will do, for good or ill. You know that. Not even the Almighty can stop that.”

“Why the blazes not?”

Aziraphale froze except for a sudden fluttering of his lashes. “What?”

“Why can’t She put a stop to this? They’re committing atrocities in Her name. She’s fucking well put a foot down in the past, drowning a whole load of people and—”

“Stop!” The walls of the villa shook at the command and for a moment Aziraphale seemed much larger. He shrank back down as he grabbed either side of Crowley’s face. “Stop, please. Not another word like that.”

Aziraphale crushed their lips together in a fierce kiss. He kept kissing until Crowley no longer had the mind or breath to argue further.

“Please,” Aziraphale said once more. “Not this. If there’s one thing in the entirety of existence you don’t question, let it be this. For me.”

Crowley could feel the drip of tears onto bath wet skin as their foreheads pressed together. He wanted for all the world to agree to that. Even being able to lie about it felt like it would be a weight off his shoulders. His life— their lives— would be so much easier if he could. If he could just trust in whatever damned plan there was, he might not have spent the last week drunk out of his mind.

He pulled back enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes and frowned at what he saw. “I made you cry again.” He bent forward and kissed the tear tracks off round, ruddy cheeks. “I’m sorry, angel. I won’t say anything like that again. Not to you.”

Aziraphale’s brows lowered over watery eyes. “Not to anyone.”

“Right. Not to anyone.” Crowley sank into the bath and deeper into himself with a hunch of his shoulders. “I promise I’ll try not to even think on it, not ever again. I just want to be with you and to be happy with that.”

Aziraphale laced their left hands together so that their rings pressed together. “You have me and you always will.”

[fellerya]

Heart of Darkness \\ Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandom: Marvel

Relationship: Loki Laufeyson/Original Female Character

Characters: Loki Laufeyson, Thor Odinson, Lady Frigga, Odin, Original Characters

Tags: Fluff and smut, original character(s), relationship(s)

Language: English

Summary: All over the world, there is no god that would be equal to her in beauty - neither among people nor among gods. At the same time, her heart is so soft, so overwhelmed with a tenderness that she sympathizes with the suffering of everyone.

Heart of Darkness | Chapter 1

You swept your gaze across the large dance hall of King Odin’s castle. The gold was polished, sparkling against the fire that crackled in torches throughout the walls. The flowers you had set up, the blues and whites and purples, mixed sweetly together in an arch at one end of the room, behind the chairs that Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Loki would sit. Your gaze continued to sweep, checking on all of the arrangements you had made in the past several days.

You were commissioned by Odin himself to make the room shine and give off a floral fragrance. A smell Frigga herself loved. There were roses, white and pink, irises in blues. Orchids and carnations in various colors. They were set neatly under each torch on the wall. On the backs of chairs, as centerpieces. Almost every inch of space was covered in flowers, but flowers was something you spoke specifically with Frigga about personally. You have learned over the weeks of quiet talks with her about which flowers and colors and smells she adored and which she could live without. She was a kind woman, and you were proud to show her the decorations surrounding her.

The hall was stuffed with people milling about, drinks in their hands, arms entwined with their company. Odin and Frigga were seated in their seats far away from you, whispering quietly to themselves. You could see they were alone, and that Frigga was pointing out some of the decorations to Odin.

“Excuse me a moment,” you murmured to your friends, Daggi and Ossi. They blinked at you but quickly turned their gazes back to their company, smiling and laughing loudly. As you made your way to the King and Queen, you noticed the princes were nowhere to be found.

Chairs and tables were set along the outside of the room, while the center of the great hall was a large space for dancing. Many people lingered there, dancing in a slow waltz across the floor. You stuck to the sidelines of the floor, trying to stay out of everyone’s way and getting to your destination before losing sight of them again.

As you finally made your way to the table, Odin had disappeared, and you sighed, but smiled sweetly when Frigga spoke. “Ah, hello dear. Odin tells me you were the one to set up this beautiful hall.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” You curtseyed quickly, eyes downcast.

“They are quite lovely. I thank you for such hard work.” She smiled, standing and slowly moving her way around the table to come to your side. You stood, watching her. “Thank you for making my birthday smell of such a lovely fragrance.” She murmured, setting her hand on your bare shoulder.

You smiled, placing your hand over hers. “You are very welcome, Frigga.”

“I hope you are enjoying the party?” She pulled her hand away and stepped towards the center of the room. Head high, back straight.

“Oh, I am.” Lie. You stepped forward to walk just beside her. “Where are your sons?” You asked, looking about the room once again.

“Oh, about…” she seemed distracted, and stopped at the edge of the dancing floor. “You should go back to enjoying yourself dear. I thank you again for the beautiful room.” She turned to you, smiling.

“I will. You’re welcome, and happy birthday, Your Highness.” You curtseyed for her again, gathering your gold-colored dress in your hands, your brown eyes casting to the floor and your light hair falling over your shoulders.

Frigga walked away then, heading off across the room. You watched her go, and out of the corner of your eye you saw a group of people whisper, gathering up closely and looking at a specific spot in the room.

You moved to look past them, at whatever had caught their attention, and noticed the brothers walking into the room. Thor, with his long golden hair and red cape. You noticed his hammer was not with him, a surprise, at best. But then, you realized, it was a party today. What would the hammer be needed for?

And beside him, the dark-haired brother that shared no resemblance to the family. His blue eyes striking against the green and gold of his armor. The large, golden horns sitting atop his head, casting him with a menacing look. You blinked, noticing a spear in his hand, wondering what the purpose was, but perhaps it was just a comfort to have it with him.

Whereas Thor was talkative and loved the ladies, Loki on the other hand was quiet and observant. You spotted him many times while walking through the halls of the castle to set up this room, but had been none the wiser to see you as he stalked past in what seemed like a rush to wherever he was going.

You looked at him now, curious. You, Daggi and Ossi liked to speak about the brothers, but Thor had always been the one brought up. Silly crushes, silly daydreams of catching the eye of the golden-haired brother. But never of Loki. Never have they spoken about the quiet brother, the outcast. You realized now, while standing there, watching their eyes look about the room, that you wanted to know more about the brother. You wanted to know what people thought of the dark-haired son of Odin.

Daggi and Ossi made their way to you, giggling like a couple of young girls. “Isn’t he handsome as ever, Ossi?” Daggi asked, loudly, and far too enthusiastic. You flinched, aware that you were only several yards away from the brothers. Daggi’s dark hair and dark eyes were glued to Thor, looking him up and down. Ossi was on your other side, almost a twin to Daggi, but not really. They were a year apart, and Ossi had light hair and blue eyes. “Oh, yes, sister.” You heard her respond, biting her lip.

Thor’s gaze had gone to the three of you, and a large grin spread across his face. He clearly had heard what they said. You wanted to shake your head, turn around and hide, but your gaze locked with Loki’s as Thor nudged him in the side, pointing to us.

You seemed lost in time as his blue eyes looked over you. You became flushed and finally pushed away from the sisters. “I need some air,” you murmured, making your way around the group of people and walking out a different door from the one the brothers had walked through. You needed space.

You never admitted it to anyone, but Loki had always fascinated you. Whether it was his quiet nature, or maybe the way those blue eyes pierced anything he looked at. But you always seemed enchanted when his name was even mentioned. And you heard about him a lot when you worked during the day.

You kept up with the castle’s flower beds. You took care of the flowers surrounding the grounds, the ones throughout the castle walls and in the halls. And when you weren’t tending to them, you were sketching them. Your long skirt would spread around you as you sat, staring intently on each flower you sketched.

It was how Frigga had found you one day, mind lost in a sea of time as you sketched and stared.

“Well, hello there, dear.” She had said, walking up behind you.

You jumped, slamming the book shut and spinning to face her. “Oh! Your Highness!” You scrambled to your feet, brushing the dirt off your skirt and bowing quickly. “I’m so sorry for being distracted while on the job. It won’t happen again.” You remained bowed, too startled to look back up at her.

“Oh, it’s no worry, dear. Everyone deserves a chance to breathe in this beautiful scent...what were you drawing?” She asked, her voice quiet and gentle. You finally looked up, her gaze interested, staring at the book in your hands.

You flushed and pulled the book open, turning it around to face her. “The flowers, Your Majesty. I like to sketch them sometimes.” You smiled.

“Those are lovely,” she remarked, turning away and heading to a pink rose bush. She laid her hand under one, sniffing it slowly. “I love roses,” she commented, “pinks and whites specifically.” She looked at you, a kind look on her face. “I thank you for all your hard work. The flowers in the castle make the days a little brighter thanks to you.”

You bowed again, “thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty,” a man would come around the flower bush. “Prince Loki is looking for you,” he continued, standing straight, poised. “He is in the dining hall.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She turned to you once more and nodded, “continue to take such care of these gentle beauties, will you?” She asked, before turning away and heading towards the dining hall with the guard on her heels.

You were on a balcony overlooking the same rose bush now. The sky sparkling with the planets and stars above you. You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes. That memory had occurred several months ago, before Odin had spoken to you about Frigga’s upcoming party. Since then, you have been fascinated to learn more about her son Loki. She had seen Thor around, loud and happy as always, but never Loki. It wasn’t until she overheard some of the people in town mention his dark hair and armor colors that she understood the man she had seen about the grounds was Loki himself. They had never spoken, never seen each other at the same time.

Not until tonight. You opened your eyes, locked on a single star far in the sky.

Loki had locked eyes with you. A mere Asgardian.

[froggonoboggo]

Answer all the OC questions Erika. D O I T

Alright then! lol I’ll do Persedimun Rigas as he is currently in the rp thread I have with my friends🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

Percy feels most at home on his farm and anywhere in the ocean. He made the farm his own after he had been in hiding for centuries, and as a water dragon, he and the ocean are one. Percy was born up north somewhere deep in the ocean but left when he was old enough to separate from his family. There is absolutely someone who makes him feel at home, and home to him means somewhere he feels safe, happy, and can just be himself without holding anything back.🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?Percy has a sweet tooth and he’s not picky either, the man will eat about anything you give him. He’s also a big fan of soup, and any soup he can fix up is his go to in order to cheer him up, the same goes for favorite meal to make. He adores baking and cooking and he’ll tell you that he’s alright in the kitchen.

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

Percy doesn’t have many places to escape to, due to needing to keep himself inconspicuous from higher beings, and he doesn’t need to for the most part because his safe place is on the farm. If that place is compromised he disappears into the ocean for awhile.

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?

He adores hugs and will readily give them out whenever it is needed. For friends and family he shows the same type of affection for both. He’s a very touchy guy, lots of pats and jokes, always ready to do something for them. The same goes for significant others actually, but more kisses involved, hand holding, and lingering touches. Does not hold back from PDA. For strangers he’s less involved with the touches. Percy loves receiving affection, and depending on what it is, may become bashful.

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

Percy is a bit of a cheesy sap, and smiles and laughter really brings him in. The sounds of happiness really strikes him. The soft eyes of his cows, his dog, and the soft pattering of rain calms him.

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

Persedimun is warm and soft, as well as a big boy who’s chest serves as the best pillow. He’s super goofy, adventurous, caring, and has incredibly kind eyes and gives the best hugs. Percy is a cheesy romantic and its adorable, his hands are rough but they hold what they cherish so delicately and tenderly, with every ounce of love and admiration he has to offer. He’ll hang on to every word you say and will say your voice is one of his favorite sounds.

 💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

He’s not particularly a fan of being sick and he’s usually the one who takes care of himself, since he was a rogue dragon for a long time and he’s also by himself for the most part. He does, to an extent, like to be doted on, though he’d rather do the doting to the ones he cares about himself. He’s an excellent caretaker and usually stays by their side unless asked otherwise.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

As stated above, he shows that he cares about someone by always being willing to help them out, no matter what he’s doing or may want to do. Percy likes to take care of people. He also likes to give gifts, things that remind them of someone or he creates something.

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?

He draws, paints, or naps, for the most part. If he could, he’d morph into his dragon form, hop into the ocean and sun himself on the surface like crocodiles do. Or he sits under a tree in the field, surrounded by cows and sheep and just looks out across the moors and into the trees, perhaps doodling. Percy’s an artist, and likes creating paintings or sketching, perhaps writing as well.

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Persedimun cares perhaps too much, sometimes. He’s incredibly empathetic and sympathetic, always available to lend a hand and help someone, whether it be an innocent bystander or someone they care about. Him caring about the wellbeing of his people led him to where he is now, shamed and hiding in the middle of Scotland by himself.

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

He usually stays up, gets out of bed and just looks outside and thinks to himself. Or he’ll go outside and listen to the sounds of the night, sit on the porch and just contemplate. He’s not too keen on asking other for help in this situation, and usually deals with it by himself unless they find out. He will accept help at that point, and contact is great at calming him down.

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Naps, eating, shiny and pretty things, painting, the ocean, rain and storms, cows, being cozy and warm, sweaters, animals in general actually, flowers (specifically gladiolus).

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

If he can, will doodle on the cover and within as well. Would write about random thoughts and rambling, notes about what he’s learned about his curse, notes about his art, things for him to remember and things he does remember because if he’s not careful with his protection spells or forgets to bring his charm, he’ll slowly forget things that he should remember. An example of a nice entry would just be him rambling some random fact he learned today from one of his friends and a silly doodle at the end. 

🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Percy’s new friends would be Matteo, Artemis, and Killian, who belong to @sanguinemori @cacticouture and @technologicalnoiz respectively. As it currently stands in the thread, the closest Percy is to any of them is Matteo. They technically first encountered each other in a seedy bar when some werewolf decided to insult Matteo’s sister and Matteo pulled a sword on him. Percy interceded before things got too crazy, as well as the other two. They haven’t known each other for long, but their chemistry is perfect, and there is definitely a chance that they could be more than just friends. 

What he looks for in a partner and in a friend is not much different from each other. He loves to hang out with adventurous people, people who know how to get rowdy and have fun, people who can be as goofy as him and don’t mind that he tends to ramble about things that sometimes don’t matter. And people who care, who are warm.

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

My favorite fact about Percy is that when he became a god he was like “fuck hanging out and hiding in the clouds, I’m staying right here and interacting with my worshippers as if they were family and helping them directly” and I love that because how easy would it be if you were some guy in ancient Greece and you could just walk over and ask your local dragon god if he could make it rain since your crops aren’t getting enough water and he’s like “yeah no problem dude” and then it just happens. No middleman, no catch, nothing, just straight up answered.

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!

As of right now, his backstory takes the brunt of the suffering, but hey, there’s always room for more >:)

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? 

on a scale of 1-10, Percy falls on a 6. He is baby to me, but I’m not actually sure how much baby.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

His rebellion caused a whole string of traumatic events, just one after another, but I’d take away him losing his first friends, where they were captured, stripped of their godhood and are now being tormented. Percy didn’t deserve to lose them, and there could’ve been a very high chance they all made it out alive. The man would probably be in a better place if he still had their support.

God this is a lot, sorry about this but those are all the asks Aary XDD as you requested! I had a lot of fun doing this!

[momomomma2]

Oh, The Bliss

Nikolai isn’t exactly a stranger to drugs. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course, because he learned early on to keep quiet about that sort of shit if he didn’t want his neck wrung by Gigi. But he dabbled, as all teenagers do when it’s abundant and easily accessible.

This though? The sparkling at the edges of his vision, the way the world is soft and prettier than he thought it ever could be? The way he feels a bit like he’s floating and, for once, his arm and leg aren’t aching even though he spent a good chunk of the day tearing around Hope County?

Pretty fucking nice.

Dangerously nice.

Like the one time he tried cocaine and cleaned the entire downstairs of Gigi’s manor without even thinking about it. The sort of nice that’s a temptation, the sort of nice that says “come on. Give it one more try. What could it hurt? It didn’t hurt last time.”

“The fuck are you doing, Cap?”

“Rude.” Even his voice is different, dropped an octave to his own ears, rumbling out of his chest with a lazy drawl he tried his best to shake when he enlisted. “Jus’ relaxing. You don’t gotta come be mean to me.”

Rush’s boots aren’t the loud stomps they usually are. It’s very nice. But his expression isn’t when he leans over into Nik’s field of view, upside down and almost glaring.

“Where did you go today?”

“I wrote a report.”

At least, he thinks he did? It’s all been a little blurred since he left the New Eden compound. Weirdly fuzzy, just like Carmina’s beanie.

Which reminds him, he needs to give that back. She let him hold it on the drive back after the third time he commented on how soft it looked. It was super soft, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have it anymore.

Nik runs his hands over himself and comes up with some t-shirt and cool metal and no beanie. Damn.

“Your report looks like one of the kids got ahold of it. All scrawled shit and drawings.” Rush rounds him, hands on his hips as he surveys Nik from the side this time. “You’re fucking high, aren’t you?”

“I don’t do drugs. Anymore.” Nik amends when Rush arches one brow. “I can piss in something if y’need me to. Like...I dunno. You got a bowl around here?”

“You couldn’t find your fucking dick to piss right now.”

Luckily he doesn’t seem mad. Maybe more amused than anything else, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“I can find it.” Nik reaches down, cups a hand around himself and jiggles. “Tu vois? S’right here. I can show you if you wanna see it.”

Rush’s eyes go wide and he stares for a long second before he shakes his head. Like an Etch-A-Sketch. Man, he used to love those things. Wonder if he could find one around here?

“Yeah, you’re on something.”

“I didn’t take anything.”

“Don’t have to take something to be dosed.” Rush is leaning over him them, one hand braced on Nik’s good shoulder, clicking a penlight on that he pulled from somewhere. “Look at my ear.”

Nik complies because it’s easy to listen to Rush. Easy to take orders. He’s particularly good at taking orders, always has been since the bombs dropped. Sure, there were a couple marks in his record for “blatant insubordination”, but records don’t mean shit anymore.

He’s pretty sure King burned his anyhow. One little oops to get him on the train. Allow him to meet up with Rush, travel and help people. He’s not very good at being helpful, but the train was going right by New Orleans. One quick stop in Montana and then back on their way.

Home again, home again, jiggidy jig.

“You’ve got pupils the size of quarters.” Rush concludes, turning off the light--that was very bright, he wasn’t a fan of that part. “Where’d you go today, Cap?”

“I wrote a report.”

“Nikolai. Tell me where the fuck you went.”

“I went where you told me to, Thomas.” Nik drawls, the knife edge of anger there quick as lightning. “New Eden. The weird fucks in the weird camp. Remember? I brought back big and mute with me?”

“You take anything while you were there? Drink or eat anything?”

“I’m not an idiot. I don’t eat shit random people holed up in the woods give me.”

This is a lie. Nik has absolutely taken little snacks from the people he meets along the way, usually offered up as a thanks for helping them out of a tight spot. But Carmina and Timber eat it too so he figures it can’t be too dangerous.

“And there wasn’t anything around you?”

“Weird fucking...barrels? Like whiskey but not? I dunno, had some weird green shit inside them.”

“Stay here.”

“Okie dokie.” Nik flashes the ok sign and is rewarded with Thomas’ unimpressed stare before he stomps away.

It doesn’t seem like any time at all before he’s back. And with Sharky in tow. Both of them stop at Nik’s side and he offers up a little wave because--well. Seems rude to not greet people.

“Tell Sharky what you found at New Eden.”

“Big barrels. Green stuff inside.” Nik helpfully parrots as Sharky takes one look at him, leaning in close, before he starts laughing.

“Oh man, I didn’t think they were still making Bliss. You are fucked up, buddy.”

“What’s a Bliss?”

“What is Bliss?” Thomas echoes, Sharky standing straight and shaking his head.

“Some weird shit the cult cooked up back in the day. Get you higher than a giraffe in Jamaica. You come out of it eventually--or sometimes you don’t.” Sharky pats him on the seam where his arm meets his prosthetic. “I hope you come out of it, man. I don’t wanna hafta go Disco Inferno on you.”

“Merci beaucoup.” Nik offers him a thumbs up and Sharky immediately grins so wide it stretches his whole face.

“Oh shit, right. They said you speak French or whatever. Hey, you should teach me some!”

“Maybe later.” Thomas all but pushes Sharky towards the door, out of Nik’s sight even when he tries to roll onto his side and watch him go. “Let’s not play French 101 with Mr. Drugged To Hell and Back.”

“Merde means shit!” Nik calls helpfully, Sharky shouting a thanks before there’s a yelp and the boom of a door slammed shut.

“We need to get you un-Blissed.”

“I’m okay.” Nik shrugs, tries to bat at Thomas’ reaching hands. “I said I’m okay! He said I’ll come out of it. I’m just gonna...just gonna...je vais dormir. Or maybe….fucking...I dunno.”

“Nik, you’d rather be beaten with a bat than speak French around people.” Thomas reminds him, capturing his wrists in both hands. “Except the fucking pilot, I can’t shut you two up. And you’ve done it twice now. We gotta get this out of your system.”

He makes a fair point. But all of Nik’s reasons for keeping his French to himself seem really...silly right about now. He should be himself. Himself isn’t great, obviously, but it’s not terrible. So he should just...be who he is.

Except people don’t like who he is. And he really likes Thomas and a handful of the others at Prosperity. He likes Thomas more than them, but they’re nice. They give him food and Carmina laughs at his stupid jokes and Kim reminds him a little of Gigi when she gives him that glare after he suggests a dumb--but ultimately effective--plan.

“How’re we gonna get it outta me?”

“How’d you get the others out of your system?” Thomas rolls his eyes at Nik’s protesting noise. “Back when you did drugs. Which you don’t do anymore. Because we don’t do that.”

“Y’can...wait them out. Or sometimes you can eat. You can piss them out too.”

“Not great options.” Thomas uses the grip to pull him upright, until he’s sloppily balancing his weight on his hips and Thomas is between his knees. “But the last one seems like the fastest.”

“You really want me to piss, huh?” Nik turns his wrists, grabs for Thomas’ forearms. “Do you have a...uh...what’s it? L’ perversion.”

“You’re never going near New Eden again.”

“A kink!” Nik tugs him in closer, so close Thomas has to lean down because Nik’s got his hands down by his sides now. “Do you have a kink? S’okay. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t get off on piss.”

“What do you get off on?”

“Not having conversations with drugged up idiots, that’s for damn sure.” Thomas tugs at his grip. “Come on, Nikolai. Stop being a dick and get up so we can get this outta you.”

“No, now I’m curious.”

He’s also being a dick. He is well aware of that. But he can’t exactly back off now and Thomas is breathing a little faster and looking a little too closely at his mouth. There’s always been something there but Nik’s been content just to let it sit. Figured it was some fucked up authority kink on his end that wasn’t reciprocated.

He had something similar happen with King. Something about a man in uniform in charge of him. Except King had clapped him on the shoulder and told him he needed to find another hunk of flesh or plastic to shove into his hole.

Thomas, on the other hand, is still staring at his mouth. And his eyes are dark. And his lips are parted, maybe to let him breathe but maybe for another reason too.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Nik whispers, growls, pressing until Thomas’ hands flatten on the outsides of his thighs. “I’m drugged. Won’t even remember this when I’m sober, probably.”

“You’re a goddamn moron, Nikolai.” Thomas snaps but he presses forwards, presses in.

And Nik lets him. Lets him sink his tongue deep after the first almost tentative brush against his lips. Moans into his mouth and fists up his jacket. It feels better, feels more. Like Thomas is tongue fucking his soul and not just his mouth.

Man, if this was the kinda shit the cult had...no wonder it got as big as it apparently did.

“We’re gonna continue this when you’re not out of your skull.” Thomas promises roughly, parting with a groan and leaning away when Nik tries to follow, draw him back in. “No, no, Cap. Not like this. Not with me.”

“You’re not any fun.”

“I’m your boss.” Thomas reminds him with a smirk. “Not my job to be fun.”

“You could be a little fun.”

“Let’s save the fun for after you’ve pissed this crap outta your bloodstream, alright?”

“I’m serious.” Nik says as he allows Thomas to sling an arm around his shoulders, lever him to his feet.

Whoo. Changing positions is fun. He also might throw up. Good thing they kissed before he got upright.

“Serious about what?”

“If you have a kink, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. I will piss on you if you want.”

“Cap?”

“Oui?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[youmeanlove]

all of them for yusuke !!!!!!!!!

SCREAMS thank you SO much im bout to end this mans (my wish to keep answers short) whole career 

update: sorry this took so long i decided to become a novelistKJF LITERALLY its so long thank you soooo much for sending this ask i had a field day

fresh mown grass: what is your f/o’s favorite scent? does it remind them of anything specific?

paint is the obvious answer so ofc that but he rly likes the smell of a smoked out kitchen. probably because thats what happens every time he tries to experiment w food but it still makes him happy to hav fun with it

pastel sunrise: what was your f/o’s first impression of you? yours of them?

hehehe…he thought i dressed really weirdJFJF he was like one part intrigued one part ‘wtf ew’ but either way boy did he stare at me! for like, minutes straight because he has no self awareness. once we started talking he thought i was um..like, inspiring i guess. that sounds conceited but he just thought i was a cool ‘care-free’ model of life! i thought umm..he was very tall and kind of intimidating! i felt bad because the other students shunned him for being involved with his mentor nd thought he could do with like, literally any social interaction. i thought he was really kind, despite being very straightforward w everything! OH and i thought it was admirable how focused on his passions he was

blooming flowers: what is your f/o’s favorite part of nature? do they even have one?

the ocean!!!! we went to the beach once and he went ape over how the moon looked reflecting over the water

four leaf clover: does your f/o have any good luck charms or superstitions? do you? do the two of you share any?

yusukes really superstitious actually! unlucky words/numbers and stuff like that. one time he broke a comb on accident and threw it across the room lmao. we both go absolutely ham and wont sleep w/ our heads to the north bc we dont feel like dying young

ocean breeze: have you and your f/o ever traveled together? what is your dream vacation?

hoyah! we dont travel because we’re both poor ass art students but we do go to the park a lot! theres some really pretty ones near the schools so we’ll go stare at geese and flowers n stuff! we talk a lot about traveling to spain bc sexy

lemonade stand: what is your f/o’s favorite beverage? and yours?

yusuke my mans rly likes lemonade but like when its kinda bitter? he doesnt like really sweet foods but lemonade and tea are 👌👌. i really like cola uwu

fireflies: how do you light up your f/o’s life?

hehHEHE U///U show that boy how to have fun!! let himself go and chill out sometimes!! he’s always so hard on himself and i help him remember that he doesn’t need to be so focused and stressed all the time anymore!! lov that guy

music festival: what is your favorite type of music? your f/o’s? any overlap between your favorite genres?

yusuke likes chill out music like classical and stuff because hes a NERD and it helps him focus on work! i’m a speedcore rat. we both like swing music because we’re gay

pumpkin latte: what is your guilty pleasure as a couple? 

sometimes we drink juice out of the carton and put it back in the fridge because like who has time for cups..nasty nasty. also idk if this counts but we’ll take those stupid buzzfeed quizzes for like an hour and judge our results OH we stan ‘accidetally’ falling asleep in our day clothes bc we were too tired to change

costume shop: do you wear couples’ halloween costumes? what’s your favorite thing the two of you have ever gone as?

HELL YEAH WE DOOOOO yusuke was like dude remember that time i turned into a mouse can i dress up like a mouse and you dress up as a giant block of cheese and i was like (slaps the desk) absolutely babe

cozy sweater: how does your f/o make you feel secure and safe?

ahejegfahjkgehaheehaejh tall. hes vv straightforward to every1 so i know he’ll always have my back if someone does something to upset me! and he’s always like Bro You Are So Beautiful Dont Ever Say You Arent Bro I Love You Bro except he doesnt say bro ofc hes Fancy

bonfire: what’s one thing your f/o has done to warm your heart?

ONE TIM OH one time he told me that i was one of the few ppl that never rly seemed like i judged him for not being very good at social stuff and that it made him want to talk to even more ppl and like get his childhood back and im :”) also one time he let me hide a stray cat in his dormKJF

ski slope: do you and your f/o play any sports or do any athletic activities together?

lol no we both have an iron deficiency we dont do anything about. we do like to play hand clappy games a lot tho he can beat my ass in slide

snowball fight: how do you and your f/o playfully tease each other?

HONESTLYFKJF we dont tease each other that much bc like. yusuke literally doesnt understand teasing most of the time and i cant bring myself to risk hurting his feelings! i jokingly made fun of his emo bang once and he was like What Is My Hair Bad Should I Get It Cut Do You Not Like It and i was like OH NOOOO!! he doesnt rly know how to tease either but its okay we just compliment each other a lot! no room for teasing in this house

gift wrap: what’s the best present your f/o has ever given you? what’s their favorite present they’ve gotten from you?

OH MY GOSH eheh one time he gave me a winter coat and that sounds lame but it was the best thing to ever happen to me bc i had been talking for like 3 weeks abt how gosh darn cold it was and this poor fool bought me a whole coat!!! raaaaaa!! yusukes fave present i bought him would probably be okay this also sounds silly but a dvd player! he kept buying dvds that were interesting and then realizing that he couldnt watch them anywherejkhf

rosy cheeks: tell us about a time your f/o has made you blush!

hehHEHEEJH okay so at lunch we used to trade so that id give him like food and hed draw me something bc his foster dad be like (whips and dabs) financial abuse but anyway his sketches used to be like scenic stuff or still life or random stuff he happened to see outside while we ate but then one time he gave me a sketch of me!! and was like cause u looked rly nice today i had to draw it and BOYYY WHEN I SAY A BITCH WAS RED!!!!!!!

OKAYFKJF I WROTE WAY TOO MUCH THANK U SO MUCH LEGEND im in love with an anime boy

[toglidethroughlife]

Draw me like one of your French girls

Pairing: Kenji x F!MC (Alex)

Category: Fluff/Humor

Summary: Coffee shop AU in which Alex can’t help but sketch her cute coffee shop crush and— wait, is he posing for her?

A/N: Dedicating this to @kenjkats because I’ve been a horrible tease lol. (Thank you ko na rin to for doing my request hehe, salamat bb!

Also tagging the awesome @maxattack-powell for encouraging this silly piece. I hope you guys like this! :)

—

On Wednesdays, Alex likes to have lunch at the coffee shop.

Things are pretty busy at the office with The Grand’s reopening, so she loves to steal some time alone whenever she can, using the time to relax and refocus her goals for the week.

She loves winding down with a few sketches here and there while she eats, the cafe almost calmingly serene, her window-side seat providing her plenty of inspiration.

Sometimes it’s the tree on the corner of the street, its leaves a bright shade of green. Sometimes it’s the cat that keeps visiting the cafe at that hour, napping and ducking out of the high sun. Sometimes it’s the old couple that passes by occasionally, hands linked together, small smiles on their faces.

Today, it’s dark hair and chiseled features that inspire her, the handsome new face in the cafe catching her eye.

This isn’t the first time she’s noticed him — no, if she’s being honest with herself, he’s been on her radar for a while, always sitting a few tables in front of her, granting her easy access to all his red jacket-ed, smirking glory.

He always had that on, she noticed. The subtlest hint of a smirk on his lips, his head cocked a certain angle.

He must think a lot of himself, she thinks as she tries to capture his smirk on paper, her mind unintentionally recalling all the times he’d thrown that half-smile, half-smirk at the waitresses serving him.

… not that she’d been paying attention.

No, she’s just observant.

She steals another glance at him and thinks about how she couldn’t really blame him, her pencil tilted as she shades in the last of his lips.

The man has a good smile, she thinks, an almost alluring quality to it, the slightest hint of a challenge behind them.

Alex comes to a stop, her fingers tightening around her pencil, the realization that she’d just finished a full portrait of a complete stranger bringing a confused furrow to her brow.

She impulsively tears the sheet out of her notebook, contemplating what to do with it.

Her phone’s ringing shakes her out of her thoughts.

“Where the hell are you?!” Marjorie’s voice blares in her ear. “Grayson needs you.”

Oh… crap.

She scrambles as she realizes the time, sloppily arranging her things as she bids Marjorie goodbye, shoving her planner, her notes, and her sketches together on her left arm, her bag slung on her right.

In her rush, she almost bumps into the waitress coming up on her right, avoiding her by a few inches… only to hit smack against someone’s arm on her left.

She doesn’t even really see how it happens; just hears the sound of her notebooks hitting the floor with a thud.

Shit.

Alex scrambles to collect her things, the man in front of her bending down to help her.

She almost gets a heart attack when she sees who it is.

His grey eyes meet hers and his lips curl into a soft smile — not a smirk, she notes — the image a tempting sight to get lost in.

“Thanks,” she manages to say, unable to break eye contact as she accepts her papers, her fingers a strange mess of nerves.

“You’re welcome,” he says as they both stand, his hand lingering on the sheets of paper.

He drops them with an sheepish grin, his hand flying to the back of his neck.

She finds herself returning the smile before ducking her head down as she bids him goodbye, clutching tightly onto her things as her mind begins replaying the events of the last fifteen minutes.

—

“IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, OH MY GOOOOD,” Alex screams, hiding her face in one of Poppy’s throw pillows.

Poppy laughs, pulling the pillow from Alex, tucking it in her own lap instead.

They were chilling in her apartment, wine glasses now almost empty after Alex had told her about her afternoon.

“Let me get this straight. You have a crush on this guy in the cafe, who you’ve been seeing for weeks now, but you two have never talked, and yet somehow you know that he has the most beautiful grey eyes and you just had to draw them…

“Right, not creepy at all.”

Alex steals her pillow back, lightly smacking it against her friend as she does.

“I’m not crushing on him!” Alex points out defensively. “I just… think he’s cute.”

“So cute that you just had to bump into him,” she winks.

“You’re not helping!” Alex groans in frustration, leaning back against the couch.

Poppy laughs teasingly, scooting closer to her friend. “Okay, okay. Fine. Can I see your crazy stalker sketch, at least? I wanna see these enchanting grey eyes of yours.”

Alex scowls at her — which just makes Poppy laugh some more — before reaching for her bag.

Her pulse races as she goes through her things — opening up her notebooks, going through loose sheets — the very specific sketch she was looking for nowhere to be found.

“Are you okay?” Poppy asks, and Alex’s eyes fill with dread at the realization that it’s nowhere in her bag.

No. Freaking. Way.

—

Alex returns to the coffee shop next Wednesday, wary as she walks through the glass doors.

Her eyes immediately dart to her usual seat, relief rushing through her as she takes in the lack of red leather jackets in the cafe. She tells herself to ignore the sliver of disappointment threatening to peek through, settling into her seat with her usual coffee and sandwich.

She pulls out her notebook and finds herself staring at the jagged remains of her missing notebook page, her eyes doing another quick scan across the room, landing inevitably on the pair of grey ones who’ve just entered the cafe.

Her breath catches and his smile softens, the knowing glint in his eye scaring her a bit as he turns to the counter to order.

She quickly averts her gaze, turning back to the blank sheet in front of her.

Alex, relax.

He comes here every week like you do. Today is no different.

Chill.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, the red-jacketed man coming into her peripheral vision as he takes a seat at his usual spot, two tables in front of her.

Again, this is normal, she tells herself, taking a bite out of her sandwich and chewing fast, the idea of returning to her office desk suddenly more attractive.

She’s just about done with her meal when she catches a glimpse of him, his face turned towards the window, eyes closed as if to drink in the sunlight.

Uh… what?

The sunlight hits his features beautifully, touching the planes of his face, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth which have turned up ever so slightly. His eyes open and he looks at her dead on, not even the least bit surprised to find her looking at him, a challenging smirk spreading wide on his lips.

He turns his head to the side once more, bringing his hand up so that his chin rests on his palm, staring out the window while his laptop sits in front of him, his expression “seemingly” deep in thought.

Alex’s eyebrows knit together.

Is he… posing?

… Huh.

Okay. I’ll bite.

She flips to a clean sheet on her notebook, thoughtful as she maps out his features on paper, subsequently biting her lips as an idea pops into her head.

It doesn’t take long before she thinks she’s got a decent enough sketch to show him, tearing out the sheet from her notebook.

She stands before she can second-guess herself, the look of utter surprise on his face doing wonders for her ego.

Alright, smirky boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.

He’s recovered past his flustered state when she reaches his table, casually inviting her to sit down with a slight nod of his head.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” she starts as soon as she’s seated, hopeful that her voice doesn’t start cracking. “I’m here to ask for it back.”

She bites back a satisfied grin when he doesn’t deny having it.

“Straight to the point, huh? I like that.“

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out what is unmistakably a sheet from her notebook, now neatly folded into an eighth of its size.

Its corners show signs of wear, but the neat way it’s been folded tells her it’s been cared for by its new keeper.

Interesting.

"So,” his voice brings her attention back to his face. “What do I get in return?”

She quirks an eyebrow in amusement, lips pursed as she gages what to make of his tone. “Excuse me?”

"It is my face, after all. I feel like I should get something in return.”

She notices him eyeing the folded sheet in her hand, curiosity piqued.

She leans in and brings the sketch between them, offering it to him.

He accepts, not once breaking eye contact as his hands unfold the sketch, smirking before his eyes dart down.

Alex watches the smirk fall off his face.

The sketch shows a toonier version of him, a smirk on his lips as he admires his reflection on the window, eyes gazing appreciatively. There are three bubbles on the upper right side of his head, five words written inside them.

“Damn. Lookin’ good today, eh?”

Alex is almost worried until he bursts out laughing, one hand flying up to cover his face.

“Okay, I deserve this,” he admits, chuckling still as he looks at the drawing. “You even got my good side,” he hums appreciatively. “My jawline looks sharp.”

Alex watches him laugh with amusement, trying to decide if he’s being cute or a little nuts.

How is it that he’s even more attractive right now?!

He looks up from the sheet with delighted eyes.

“Here,” he says, returning Alex’s original sketch to her. “I gotta admit, I was a little worried you were ignoring me earlier. You were very, um, focused on your sandwich.”

“Ha,” she laughs nervously. “Right. It was, uh, a good sandwich.”

Their eyes meet and they’re both silent for a minute, slow smiles spreading on their faces.

“Got any room left for dessert?” he asks, fingers fidgeting with the sketch in his hand. “I hear this place makes an excellent molten lava cake.”

He flashes her a charismatic grin. “On me, of course.”

Alex feigns suspicion, but his eyes squint with delight, beaming at her. “Is this your reward for returning my sketch? If so, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be paying.”

He laughs, leaning in slightly. “Nah, I’d say your company’s the real reward here.”

Alex feels her cheeks flushing before they both break into chuckles, heads ducking down before they both meet again.

“You’re not one for subtlety, are you?” Alex asks.

He grins at her brightly. “I don’t like leaving good things to chance.”

His gaze holds hers in place, a tinge of sincerity behind his cheesy line.

“So, how about that cake?”

Alex smiles. “Sure. But I don’t share cake with strangers.” She extends her hand out to him. “I’m Alex.”

She doesn’t miss how his smile grows with relief.

“Kenji. Kenji Katsaros.”

[cosmosogler]

today i got almost everything done!

my mother woke me up at about 5:45, and then again at 6:20. i was super angry. then my brother and sister were in both the upstairs bathrooms so i had to go all the way downstairs and across the house just to go to the bathroom before i went back to sleep.

i dreamed that i was getting annoyed with a conspiracy theorist. “video games are downloading scientific theories into your brain!!!” it was the science that scared them apparently. and the computers. the person wasn’t even present, i was just hearing their voice as i played dream mario, which is only slightly like nintendo mario. i told the voice that video games are just another way to tell a story. i pulled a children’s book out of somewhere, i think it was “goodnight moon” actually. except the cover was wrong. but i was telling the voice that there wasn’t nothin wrong with telling a cute or simple story.

sometimes the story is “i got really good at jumping over hills and across floating spinners and on turtles.”

i only put on the snooze for five minutes because i really, REALLY didn’t want to get up with less than like seven and a half hours of sleep. i got up anyway and showered. i didn’t get to spend long in the shower though... i really need to shave but i haven’t had much time at all the last five, seven days. i shower every other day since it’s a little better for your hair and skin...

anyway as i was heading out to go to therapy dad decided to start asking me to do some chores. i sort of started one, i let eve outside, but i seriously didn’t have time to wait for her to take a sunbath and let her back in. then someone (not naming names, because i’m not 100% sure) decided to park their car in a way that made it impossible for me to pull out of the garage. so i had to go back inside, get that car’s key, move it to the other side of the driveway, go back inside to drop off that key, and then i could get in “my” car and get going. then people on the freeway kept cutting me off without using their turn signals and also were generally going below the speed limit so i would have to stand on the brakes. this happened more than once. then i almost hit someone trying to get over to the exit because as i passed them apparently they sped up while passing through my blind spot so they were farther up than i thought they would be when i started changing lanes. cool!!!!!!!!

in individual therapy i brought up a bunch of emotional problems i had started to explore a little bit in group therapy. i ended up talking for the whole 45 minutes straight basically. like, my therapist asked a few questions, and reassured me a few times, but it was like a huge information dump so hopefully in the coming weeks i can start addressing each problem individually. i also got my semester refund paperwork sorted out with her. i’ll be able to pick it up next week. i mostly focused on how none of my problems feel “big enough” unless they are unsolvable since i really didn’t get to talk about it in group yesterday. i said one thing that i kind of liked though. i said “i feel like if i didn’t have so many problems, i wouldn’t have so many problems.” 

what i meant to say was “if i didn’t have so many mental and personality problems, i wouldn’t have so many life problems,” but the vagueness was silly enough that my therapist made a face and laughed. i said i didn’t know what to focus on first and she said “you’re already working on everything.” i had listed the multiple projects i am trying to keep up with therapy wise... i dunno. i feel like if i can get over that big “problems have to be impossible” hurdle things will start feeling a little more manageable and i’ll be able to make progress more quickly.

guess i gotta spend more time thinking about that. i’ll keep you posted as things come up.

after that i picked up my paperwork from my physician’s office since i was on that side of town and got the number for the radiology lab that wants to do the last test. when i got home i shoved some leftovers in the microwave and called the lab and scheduled my “hida scan,” which is a gall bladder test i guess where they put a bunch of glowing stuff through your digestive system and see if it goes through normally. the scheduler said it normally takes two hours unless they find something, in which case it will take longer. luckily my next therapy appointment is 4 hours after my procedure... i hope that will give enough time. i will have to let her know. i definitely wouldn’t be able to do it on a group therapy day and the lady seemed pretty keen on doing it as soon as possible. and i can’t do it in the afternoon in case it goes long and dad isn’t able to get to work.

so 8 am next tuesday it is.

so i had my ravioli and went upstairs and then after a short break i watched the iron giant with oz. the movie is even better than i remembered. then we talked about physics stuff while i worked on gathering study materials with my classmates. i had a great time, and i hope oz did too. it felt nice to do an activity with someone that took up all our attention, so i didn’t have to, like, feel self conscious about not baring my soul or something.

i think when asher gets back i will talk to him about maybe spending an afternoon at the pottery lounge thing by the amc. it’s not cheap, but last time i checked i didn’t think it was too expensive at least. and i still have the ceramic dog i painted like 15 years ago so the stuff lasts. basically you pick out a little ceramic statue and you get to paint it using a selection from like 200 different shades. and i think you can stay as long as it takes to paint it. the smaller stuff wasn’t too bad cost-wise.

got sidetracked. after i hung up with oz and got all my emails and google docs in order i went and got groceries for mom. she was making quesadillas for dinner. i unfortunately had to pay for them with my own money, and it felt weird buying meat after all these years. but i guess i buy dog treats often enough that it’s not really, like, a compromise of my morals or something. i noticed that the dogs really went wild over the chicken strips i bought last time, so i tried to expand to “turducken.” (spoiler: they loved those too.)

so i dropped off the vegetables and stuff with mom, checked on the cactus mouse, and watched a couple of the videos i had loaded up while talking to oz. i try not to spend too much time reading or watching videos while talking to people because i get super focused on what i’m looking at and don’t hear what they say any more haha.

then i went downstairs and had my veggie quesadilla. it was... ok. i was still a little hungry afterward, but i also felt kind of ill so i didn’t want to eat any more. eating with mom was the WORST. she breathes loud and chews with her mouth open so it’s just a constant avalanche of awful squishy mouth noises. it made me so angry and annoyed that i think that’s what made me sick more than the food. i kind of abruptly stood up and put my plate away and took the dogs outside after trying out the new treats. i tried to play fetch with wiley but he was having none of it today. which is very odd... maybe it was just too hot for him to want to run around. 

i have been experiencing kind of horrible pain between my shoulder blades. i’m pretty sure it’s not my bra pinching anything because it’s way above the strap... probably a pinched nerve. i tried stretching my arms and shoulders and that seemed to help a lot, so i’m thinking i slept in a bad position.

then i went back upstairs and whined to myself about my therapy homework. i did more “self care” research and added a few more posts to my queue. and i talked with some discord guys a little bit. then i caught up on my self esteem journal and picked out one of my “short term goals” from my hospital-issued treatment plan. i used that as a base to expand on for my goal worksheet. i finished all that around 11 so then i got started on the owl picture for 40 minutes or so. now i am 35 minutes into my journal entry, which puts me at a comfortable time to finish up and try to sleep. i got another 10 minutes before i hit my target “get ready for bed” time.

my group mates and therapist expressed interest when i let slip that i like to draw on monday. the therapist asked what i draw. i wasn’t sure how to answer... “furries” isn’t really something i wanted to get into. and i haven’t drawn my own characters except for a reference for one of the art trades in a long time. i suppose i should post the uncolored version of that since i scanned it in and haven’t worked on it with the tablet yet.

so i just said “characters and people.” i like landscapes, but i have trouble spending enough time on them to really get into the details. i’m hoping the coloring pages will help loosen up my patience so i might start feeling like spending a million hours on one picture again. it’s been a couple years since i did anything complicated.

i’m thinking about maybe taking my sketch book... but i don’t want to spend a lot of time on explaining what the picture is of when i have more urgent things to work on.

tomorrow i have more things to do! i NEED to work on the welcome packet for ufl. i need to scan in a bunch of stuff, like my immunization records and my doctors’ notes for my refund file. i need to send an email to the preliminary test coordinator to figure out how to proceed with my studying... i need to know how much to panic about this. then after group therapy i need to drop off my sister’s old prescriptions at the police station. that won’t take too long. if i got energy i’d like to organize my desk and maybe also tidy up my room a little bit. write some things down to put in the jar. then i will work on my self esteem journal, continue reading through the self care resources i’ve got open in a million tabs, and work on the coloring page a little bit. that sounds good. and at some point i need to write my 1- to 2-paragraph essay for the refund. and also i gotta email my apartment complex about stuff like the bed size and some cupboard dimensions and whether there’s a microwave and stuff like that. some of those things i’m pretty sure i can just look up somewhere.

i think i can manage those things. the student orientation videos might have to wait until thursday but i can compile the paperwork and read the faqs and stuff. none of these tasks take long by themselves. so as long as i remember to take little breaks and stay motivated i think i can get it done and not have to worry about it so much any more.

ok, it is 12:30, which is only 5 minutes after my target time! i’m gonna do the daily pokemon stuff for 2-3 minutes and then get ready for bed. gotta practice giving myself credit for reaching/working on goals and stuff, even when i don’t want to.

[artificialqueens]

Discover Something Rare Ch. 1 (Rajila) - Juniper

Summary: Despite her family’s plans, Manila has never cared about romance. She meets a beautiful artist named Raja, and everything changes. 60’s Lesbian AU.

A/N: So this is my first chaptered fic on aq, and I hope you enjoy the first installment. I encourage you to leave me your thoughts either here or over at artificialjuniper as the story progresses. Happy reading!

The scratch of the bobby pin against Manila’s scalp made her eyes water.

“If you’re just going to make me pin it up, I don’t see why I can’t cut it off,” she grunted, jerking her head forward. She could see her mother in the mirror, standing behind her with an agitated expression.

“I’ve told you this a million times, Manila. Hair is a girl’s best accessory, and with it you can be many different women for your future husband. It’s so long and beautiful, don’t be ungrateful.”

Manila sunk into her chair further, bringing her knees up to her chest like a child.

“Oh, mama, not this again. Not everything in my life revolves around getting married.”

A set of crow’s feet threatened to crawl to the surface of her mother’s tanned skin, though her eyes were fierce. Her own hair was pulled into a slick bun, the tightness giving her face a slight lift. With her mouth set in a straight line, Manila knew she was in for the same lecture she had heard time and time again.

“Clearly. Manila, where have I gone wrong with you? You see how much Daddy and I love each other, no?”

She nodded begrudgingly, naked lips pouting.

“Then I don’t understand why you are so fussy when it comes to finding a husband. You insist on living an extreme lifestyle, and every man that does take an interest gets turned away. I’m not getting any younger, princess. I would like some grandkids in this lifetime.”

“But, mama, I don’t love those men! You can’t really want me to be unhappy for the rest of my life, tied to someone that doesn’t understand me.”

Her mother took her fingers to her temples.

“Sometimes I don’t think there’s anyone who understands you.”

Heat rose in Manila’s face, and she struggled to hold back any signs of tears. You certainly don’t, she thought.

Fishing a folded paper from her apron pocket, Manila’s mother sighed.

“The dress that Ate Jane ordered for your birthday should be ready today. Will you be able to pick it up?”

Just like that, the conversation was in the past. For now.

“I guess,” she shrugged. “Where do I need to go?”

                                                      —————–

Manila rested against the brick wall of the tall apartment building. She gazed up, vines scaling up feet above her, the cement steps covered in dead leaves and discarded gum. Across the street, a balding man was walking his dog, tugging at the leash when it stopped to sniff at some leaf-buried treasure. She sympathized with the pooch.

The cool autumn air blew the skirt of her dress up slightly, and she decided to push her way inside. The entryway was small and cramped, nothing but the buzzers and the wooden door in front of her. She glimpsed at the wrinkled address her mother had given her.

Apartment #5

She tentatively rang the bell, her gloved finger hanging there for a moment too long, perhaps, because the thick voice came out of the speaker in a huff.

“Yes, I hear you. Who is it?”

“Um, Luzon? I mean, I’m here to pick up an order under Luzon. Dress alterations?”

“I have it here. Come on up.”

Manila made her way up the staircase, her black pumps taking tentative steps against the rickety wood. It certainly wasn’t the nicest complex she’d ever seen, but she’d take a shoebox over a hovering mother any day.

When she got to the landing, the door to the fifth apartment was already propped open by a set of books.

The apartment was, to put it simply, an absolute mess. Stacks of paper covered every surface, serving as makeshift coasters to various mugs filled with coffee and paint water. There was a tall easel in the center of the room, illuminated by the wide window giving way to the city streets below. It held a messy palette, smeared with various colors, though the canvas on display was still blank. There was a dress form in the corner, covered in words of a different language. It looked to be hand-decorated.

It was all very exciting to Manila. Everything was in complete disarray, and it was almost unfathomable how one could live like this, consumed by their art, not by rules. Back at home, her mother ensured everything had its proper place. Mess was nonexistent, the clothes were put away, and the most exquisite thing was the china cabinet, which was, off course, off-limits. The owner of the voice emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a raggedy t-shirt.

She was tall, almost unbelievably so, with a thin frame dressed in tan trousers and a blouse that resembled Manila’s father’s bowling shirts. She looked down over a pretty, dark nose. Despite the chaos around her, she seemed to be very put-together, like a catalogue model. Thick black hair came down just past her shoulders with a dusting of fringe across her forehead. Her makeup was beautiful; every line pristine and each color blended seamlessly. Manila suddenly felt a little self-conscious of her own bland appearance.

“I have your dress in the closet,” she spoke, with that same husky tone. “I’ll admit, I was surprised when I saw your measurements. The dress I received was more than a little off.”

Manila watched as the woman sauntered over to the tiny closet, bringing out her emerald green dress.

“It was a gift from a distant cousin,” Manila shrugged. “A formality, really.”

The woman raised an eyebrow and laid the garment over the arm of her yellow sofa.

“I’ve never heard of dresses this nice being given as a formality.”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Manila said, wincing. She thought back to her conversation with her mother that morning. Her aunts were no different, all of them trying to ship her off with some man. They’d shower her with perfumes and new heels, all in hopes of attracting a boy. It was for her own good, they said. Not at all about expanding their already ever-growing family.

“I bet. Raja.”

Manila blinked.

“Raja?”

“Yes. That’s my name, Raja.”

“Oh,” Manila squeaked. “That’s very beautiful.”

The woman threw her a sly grin. “It means king. My parents always told me that’s probably where my ego comes from.”

She was a natural conversationalist. Any butterflies that were flittering around in Manila’s stomach were beginning to hibernate.

“My name is Manila. Like, the capital of the Philippines? It’s okay, I guess, that’s where my mom grew up before she met my dad. I grew up here, in the city, of course, but she wanted to connect me to her roots. I always wanted something more regal, though, or just pretty. Place names just leave a bad taste in people’s mouths, you know? I don’t want people to think I’m tacky. That’s subjective, though, isn’t it?”

“You talk a lot,” Raja said.

Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Manila laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

Raja encouraged her to try the dress on, and so she slid into the bathroom. The tile beneath her toes was cool. Hearing a ping, she looked to see one of her pins fall into the sink. One long curl fell from her head and it felt slightly radical. On top of the toilet there was a metal tray, housing powders and brushes, and without thinking twice she reached for a tube of lipstick, painting her mouth carefully. She looked like a different woman; sultry and unpolished, and her own mother might not recognize her in the street. She wasn’t sure who this was, but Manila liked her.

A soft knock came at the door, causing her to squeak.

“Are you okay? Do you need help with the zipper?”

“No, no, I’m almost done,” Manila called out, stuffing her hands back into her gloves. “I’ll be right out.”

When she opened the door, Raja was leaning against that same hideous couch, a cigarette perched between her lips. Her eyes narrowed.

“Were you wearing that lipstick when you got here?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying.” Damn.

“Do you mind?” She cursed her compulsive nature.

Raja smiled. “No. You look nice. Spin around, let me see you.”

And so she did, parading around the apartment as the light got lower. She giggled, illuminated in orange, avoiding magazines and spools of thread. Raja watched in amusement, smoke oozing out, intertwined with each spurt of laughter.

“So you’re, like, a real artist?”

Minutes had turned into hours, and Manila couldn’t seem to draw herself away from Apartment #5.

“I’d like to think so,” Raja said. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, staring up at Manila. She was playing Nancy Drew, inspecting every sketch, every stray piece of lace. Her gaze was focused, her touch gentle. “I just like to create. I’m influenced by everything I see.”

“All of my friends are superficial squares.” Raja laughed at the way Manila dramatically rolled her eyes.

“This is like a dream to me,” she whispered.

“Are you the creative type, too? I figured. I think we all gravitate toward one another-“

Manila wasn’t listening anymore. “I wish I could live like you. You’re so inspired and free. I wanna be an artist, too.”

“What’s stopping you?” Raja asked, moving toward her.

The moon was bright, holding them both tenderly. She placed a hand on Manila’s shoulder, who shook her head and replaced the pencil she’d been holding. She offered a sad smile.

“My family, I guess. My mother. I sketch, clothes mostly, and when I was little she entertained it. But I’m not a seamstress and now…now she’d rather that I didn’t waste my time on silly hobbies.”

“It doesn’t have to just be a hobby. I mean, I’m not living in luxury, clearly, but once you make connections you can get by.”

“She’d never let me work,” Manila sighed. “I’m supposed to be on the lookout for Prince Charming, and have him take care of me for the rest of my days.”

Raja scoffed. “You’re not a baby. I reckon you could take care of yourself just fine.”

“You think so?” She smiled shyly. Raja nodded. She brought a tissue up to her face and helped her scrub away the lipstick, and tucked the stray hairs behind her ear. She felt a numbness in her fingertips; her adventure was coming to an end, and it was back to mundane, uniform days. She had to resist the urge to grab onto her lithe arm and beg to stay forever in this wonderland. They looked at each other for a moment without saying a word.

“Bring me some of your sketches, little Luzon. I want to see them.”

Suppressing genuine shock, Manila promised to return soon.