#the paper texture is different to my last one

[lumiilys]

Started a new sketchbook. Here’s a doodle of Stede in a skirt!

[kelocitta]

I love your RW art month tiles. What art program do you use and how do you get those really clean textures and shapes?

I use PaintToolSai, both 1 and 2- but most of the drawing gets done in SAI1 since I couldn't get my brushes to import right for 2. Its an extremely bare bones program all things considered (Sai2 less so, it has a bit more tool-wise, but I only draw in it if i *have* too or for minor stuff) so its nothing really fancy being employed, everything geometric I do just by using a self made grid to measure out shapes like you would a piece of paper.

Literally its just a measured out grid of like... 50 by 50 px squares with cross sections? I just paste it as needed and draw the lines around it and since the measurements are consistent it just works.

my default pen is already "crunchy" so being perfectly matched isnt a huge deal, and you can general paste and rotate to make it look a little cleaner. Honestly I've used this same grid for forever (and it was off by like one pixel at one point lol) its just really useful for quick matching things for a program that doesn't have stuff built in for lining things up As for the textures, those are all default to SAI (I think?). The brush I use lightly uses of fabri (which mostly just makes the edges of the brush grainier) and then I usually also put some various level of a layer texture overlay thats just one of SAI's default 'watercolor' textures. It mostly just adds a little bit of a noise/grain effect. Heres that on max

For ArtMonth itself I just draw out a tile canvas using the grid with all the layers broken up- then I just reuse it over and over as needed. There's probably smarter ways to do it, but eh it works

And yeah, theres just two borders. One for the bottom and one for the top, makes it easy to make something that goes 'in and out' of the tiles without having to think to much. Just snip as needed

[maraschinotopped]

^^^ pumpkin. if you even care.

[kiyoomi-levin]

villain pt.1 (bakugoxf!reader) [NSFW]

a/n this was originally supposed to be a single fic but i wanted to see how ppl liked it lol. pt 2 is already in the making (and i promise it's more spicy than this one)

summary: harley (you) realize that joker (your boyfriend) is in love with batman (bakugo). If only harley also knew batman’s obsessed with her. —> inspired by this short  word count: 4.9k warning(s): bakugo’s literally just a horndog

“I swear, Ren, if you pull anything like that again…”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your grip. 

“Enough, y/n. I always get you out, don’t I?” 

You frown, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. 

“You try getting caught and being put into jail multiple times in a single month. It’s not funny,” you sigh. 

You don’t even know what it’s like to be tied up by Bakugo fucking Katsuki, you want to add. 

But you keep your mouth shut. 

Ren’s already in a bad mood, jaw clenched tight as he walks faster. You’re almost jogging at this point just to keep up with his pace.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath. 

Ren hardly glances at you as the two of you enter your cheap apartment complex, walking silently up the two flights of stairs to your front door.  

You cringe as you round the corner—on your front door is a familiar piece of white paper, the contents of which you already know by heart.

Late rent notice: Dear tenet, your rent was due on the 7th of February. As of the date of this letter, your payment is 4 days past due. 

Frustrated, you rip the paper off of the metal door as Ren reaches over and enters the pin. 

Your jaw drops as he walks inside carelessly, unbothered with the notice. 

The two of you have been dating for almost a year now; you’re long used to his carefree nature. 

That’s what first drew you to him. 

Now it merely disgusts you. 

“Ren,” you cautiously call out as the door shuts behind you, “I think it’s time to give it up.”

Your boyfriend tosses himself onto the wrinkled couch, pointing towards the fridge. Frowning, you head over and grab him a cold beer. 

“Thanks babe.”

You collapse next to him, relishing in the fluffy texture. After being in a holding cell for a few days, you’ve definitely missed the warmth of your home. 

“I know you’re mad, and I understand. But we learned something new from last time, didn’t we? Dynamight was literally showing off his weaknesses! If we just—”

“Ren, stop it! That was the last time. I’m done. Seriously.” 

Your boyfriend is pouting now, reaching over to hold you in his arms. You want to fight back, you should. 

He jumps into his usual rant about how much he hates Dynamight; that asshole, always flaunting his wealth and looks. He’s just a shitty hero with a shitty quirk.

Meanwhile, you’re fighting back tears of frustration. 

How had you gotten here?

A year ago, you had seemingly met the man of your dreams at the villain rehabilitation center (looking back, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea). 

You had been working there as a volunteer and was popular with all of the residents as a bright psychology student and aspiring therapist.

Despite the havoc these wannabe villains had wreaked across Japan, you had treated all of them with kindness and respect, hoping you would be able to make a positive difference in at least a single person’s life. 

How naive you had been. 

“Hey, y/n,” Ren smirks as you gently open the door to the small office. 

You exhale— this one villain has been bothering you more often recently, and he was just too cute for his own good. 

“Takanashi Ren. Your counseling appointment isn’t until later this evening.”

“Aw. I can’t give my favorite therapist a visit?” 

You grin at him, pushing your dark rimmed glasses up your nose. 

“I’m not a therapist yet,” you retort, stepping back as Ren pushes back from his chair, striding over to you. He has you cornered to a wall, and the muscles of his arm flex dangerously, reminding you of his crimes. 

Despite this, all you can notice is how bright his eyes are— gosh, you just love the way they twinkle.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you’ll achieve all your academic dreams. I just hope I’m out of here on time to watch you cross that stage.”

And with that, you’d fallen head over heels for a cringy, third-rate villain with no plans for the immediate future. But the more time you spent with him, you truly felt as though you’d met your match. 

He was intelligent. Witty. Funny. 

Most importantly, he was different. His ideas for a liberated world— where all quirks were considered equal and everyone had the freedom to use their quirks as they wanted— was just unlike what you’d ever considered. 

If only you had paused for a moment and asked him just how he would create that world. 

It had been too late when you had realized what you had gotten yourself into. Now, you spend your days as a college dropout, supporting your boyfriend in his schemes that always end in failure and with you in handcuffs. 

But you had already sworn to devote yourself to him. 

Question. Would you die for me?

Yes.

That’s too easy. Would you live for me?

… Yes.

“y/n, are you listening? We’ll stake out at his condo. I’ll do all the work, babe, you just have to stand watch. I’ve already planned it all out. ”

There it is, that strike of pain in your heart. 

Dynamight. 

That’s all your stupid boyfriend cares about. 

You’re already shaking your head, refusing furiously— but he’s begging, begging! 

… And you sigh and look away. 

“Last. Time.”

You peek out of the corner of your eye to see Ren’s face brighten. 

He really is just as pretty as when you first met him a year ago. 

“I promise, y/n. Last time.”

Fuck Ren and his promises.

From the moment you had scaled Dynamight’s luxurious condo, you had known your boyfriend had skimped on doing his research again. 

There’s no way we’re gonna get away with this.

Stuffed in a large delivery box, you only pray that Ren’s mailman cosplay is good enough to get through the lobby. 

Nervously holding your breath, you cringe as your boyfriend flirts with the ladies at the front desk and wheels you into the elevator. 

Tap tap tap. 

Three gentle knocks on the front of the box and you know it’s your turn.

“I’ve just disabled the hallway cameras,” Ren whispers as he pulls the box open. 

You step out eagerly, stretching, before turning towards the door. 

The corners of your mouth twitch as you suddenly remember why you hate rich people. 

Dynamight’s door just screams narcissism— who really needs a gold plated front door? 

Bakugo, the nameplate reads. The dreaded name you hear on a near-daily basis. 

You scoff as you reach into your pocket and pull out your decoding tool, placing it on the keypad in a single, practiced motion.

Ren taps his foot impatiently as you work with the machine— you only let out a breath of relief as the door buzzes and swings open what feels like an eternity later. 

You’re already sweating as your heart thumps with discomfort and fear at being at the hero’s homebase. 

Comically, it feels as though the two of you have just broken into a villain’s lair. 

“God, babe. You’re the best,” Ren murmurs, pushing you aside. 

He’s a little too eager to ruin his nemesis’ life. 

Ren rushes inside of Dynamight’s home, barely holding back his immediate laughter as he spots the marble dining table. 

He’s already poking around as you carefully close the door quietly behind you, tiptoeing into the large house. 

“Can you believe this man? He’s so fucking full of himself,” Ren spits as he stares at the various newspaper clippings of Dynamight adoring the bookshelves.

Forget that— if you were Dynamight, you’d be living like this too. 

This is life you had envisioned for yourself. 

Gorgeous white pillars uphold a high ceiling and there’s a leather couch in the center of the room. A giant television sits in front of it, almost mocking you. 

One day… When this was all over, would Ren want to live like this with you?

“Come on, babe. We gotta find the data,” Ren says, heading towards the closest door to him. 

The initial excitement has worn off and he’s now refueled by hatred. 

Right. The data. 

If you could just get your hands on the data of all of the current Japanese heroes, that would be the biggest data breach in the history of the World Heroes Association. 

You and Ren would go down as super villains— a title you still weren’t sure if you wanted. 

You repress these useless thoughts, though, and trail Ren around the large home as he throws open doors. 

“Are you sure he’ll even have it?” 

“Yeah, there’s no way a top hero wouldn’t have access to this— Damn! A basement. You think he’d keep his PC down here?”

You think back to your encounters with Dynamight, shivering as you remember his piercing red eyes meeting yours. 

Your boyfriend heads down without hesitation as you follow him, nearly jumping when he yelps in joy. 

“His computer’s right here.” 

You swallow as you turn your head around the dark basement, eyes not yet adjusted to the dark. 

Ren presses the power button of the computer and the entire room lights up from the bright screen. 

Couch, television, gaming consoles, mini fridge— this must be his man cave. 

“Alright. Get on it, babe,” Ren says, stepping back as the flickering monitor. 

Sighing, you lean down, plug in your trusty usb stick into the PC. This was going to be a long day. 

WARNING. 

You jump for real this time, letting out a surprised shout as the machine blares a loud alarm. 

Holy fuck, what’s going on? 

Before you can move, the heavy door to the basement suddenly slams shut— you hear the metallic locks clicking in place.

You glance at Ren in desperation, but he’s not looking at you, only frowning at the computer.

“Get on with it. We have at least 15 minutes, I’ll find a way out by then.”

You don’t bother protesting. Despite his easy going demeanor, you know Ren cares about you.

“Don’t worry, he’s in Korea for a conference,” he reassures you as he steps towards the staircase.

BOOM. 

You scream as you’re pushed back by an explosion, groaning in pain as you strike the side of Dynamight’s large desk. 

Collapsing on the ground, dust arises on either side of you. 

Your ears are ringing and your vision is hopelessly blurry.

When you muster up the strength to touch your stinging face, you wince as your hand comes back bloody. 

Ren. He was closer to the door. 

Your eyes widen as you roll yourself onto your side, trying to reach up to the chair next to you for help—

“Fucker!” 

You gasp as your vision clears and you take in the sight in front of you.

Dynamight has your boyfriend pressed onto the floor and strikes him in the face, once. Twice. Three times. 

Ren tries to fight back, but he’s basically hopelessly laying there, taking in the blows. 

It’s clear you’ve caught him off duty— Dynamight’s clad in nothing but a tank top and shorts. 

Despite that, he dominates your boyfriend easily. He’s kneeling on Ren’s stomach, one hand pinning down your boyfriend’s shoulder and the other punching his face at a sickening rate. 

You do nothing but watch as you watch Ren’s eyes flicker, then shut. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, taking away the remaining rationality in you.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you throw yourself at Dynamight, whose eyebrows merely raise as he registers your face.

You pull out your knife, swinging for his neck— Dynamight throws up his arm, blocking your attempt— before you can react, you’re pinned to the ground next to your boyfriend. 

“You… asshole…” you hiss, airflow momentarily cut off.

You struggle against Dynamight's strength, grimacing. You’re on your stomach, hands pinned behind your back. You try to kick him, but the strength in your legs fails you. 

Dynamight lets out a small laugh as he sits on your ass and your eyes widen as you feel his dick through his pants grinding on you purposefully. 

Fucking pervert. 

You turn your head to your side, glaring into Dynamight’s blood-colored eyes. The corners of his eyes are pointed upwards, he’s grinning madly. 

Leaning forward, Bakugo rests his right hand next to your face. Your immediate reaction is to lunge at it, trying to bite, but he pulls back quickly, yanking on your wrists. Your body arches upwards and you wince at the slight pull. 

“Easy. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Despite your slowly subsiding anger and hatred towards the man on top of you, you feel yourself blushing against your will. 

You hate how he talks to you. You silently remind yourself to take a recording of it next time and report him for sexual harassment. 

While you’re fuming over your current situation and mumbling profanities at him, Bakugo leans back and admires you.

You look really good like this— actually, you look perfect. Your eyes are slightly moist, cheeks flushed and lips a delectable pink. Bakugo’s mouth is watering at the sight. 

He’s already hard. He’s been aching in anticipation since he first got the alert that you broke into his home. 

What would happen if he were to just… 

You’re staring up at Bakugo again, watery eyes meeting his narrowed ones, and he feels a shiver run down his spine as he admires his reflection in them. 

“Can you let me go already? You’ve won, we get it,” you huff, cheeks inflating. 

He wants to stuff them full with his cock.

Easy, Dynamight. You’re a hero. 

He glances down at you apathetically, although his cock is throbbing. 

You ignore it the best you can, although you’re turning pink again.

You shift from side to side, hoping you won’t have to beg him to let you go. 

You’d rather die than do that.

Smirking, he clicks his tongue as he reaches forward with his right hand and strokes your face. 

“Give me a reason. You’re imposing on my home, doing who knows what?” 

Your teeth find his hand this time, sinking into the hardened flesh.

You bite down as hard as you can, wishing he’d just let go of you. Your jaw is just beginning to ache as you muster the courage to look back up at him.

Your blood runs cold as you notice his unchanging expression— he looks almost bored. But something flashes in his eyes.

Fuck, maybe you shouldn’t have done that. 

As you pull back, you squeak as he grabs you by your hair, sliding forward to sit on your wrists.

One hand holds your head upwards, while his other holds your face. His hand engulfs your entire jaw as he forces you to look into his eyes. 

“I could take you right now, but I’ll save that for later.”

From a distance, you hear the shouts of policemen and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Bakugo lets go and watches as your head falls back onto the floor.

You’re so caught up in the commotion you don’t catch his next words.

“You’ll be begging for it soon, anyway.”

You can do nothing but watch in handcuffs as Ren’s eyes open hazily and focus on you. 

“y/n, I’m so sorry,” he starts. 

You shake your head, smiling sadly at him. Was it really over? 

No, you promised you’d always be with him—

“Dynamight.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes have shifted from you onto Dynamight, the one person that has been on his mind obsessively for the past few years.. 

Ren’s shouting at Dynamight now, who merely laughs in response. 

You don’t even notice that Dynamight’s staring at you.  

All you notice is that you’re not in Ren’s line of sight anymore. 

The words of policemen and Ren start swirling together as your heartbeat slows.

He’s not in love with you, is he?

You can hear your heart physically shattering.

He’s in love with Dynamight.

Bakugo’s still embarrassingly hard as he readjusts himself, sighing as he looks around his ransacked home. 

The police have taken longer than he’d hoped, making sure to photograph everything.

Even more irritatingly, the medics had tried to heal your teeth marks imprinted in his arm, which he had pulled away quickly. 

“I’m going to save this as evidence during the trial,” Bakugo had quickly lied. 

The young medic had blinked in confusion, but nodded eagerly, not wanting to defy the number one hero’s demand.

When his agency had first received the tip that you and Whiplash would be attempting a data breach, Bakugo had rolled his eyes and hesitated on flying back in early from his vacation.

You and Whiplash were shitty, third-rate villains, if you could be even labeled as such. 

You would always be deserted by your boyfriend, who’d dip the moment Bakugo stepped close to the crime scene. You (with your gorgeous, angered face that turns him on so fast) would be left behind for Bakugo to handcuff. 

Bakugo still remembers the first time he’d been called to a scene with you and Whiplash. 

One year ago, two petty, new criminals had attempted to rob a series of homes in upper Tokyo. 

Bakugo had been whisked away from his date with a pretty newscaster and was irritated to hell— he had been working all night sweet talking to the girl and was surely going to get laid— but when he had gotten to the scene, still pulling on his gloves, all thoughts of regret flew out the window.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” 

The female villain is shouting as she kicks her legs. 

The scene is laughable— her upper half is tapped in the tights washing machine and Bakugo takes his sweet time striding over to you, admiring the curve of your ass and the way you shake as you try to free yourself. 

“What happened here?” 

Bakugo smirks. He’d heard that the male villain had gotten away but the female was still somewhere on the premises. 

He’d been incredibly lucky to find you first. It’s hard to hold back from slapping your ass and ripping those black tights off of you, but Bakugo swallows and moves to touch your hip instead.

You squeak in surprise as you feel two fingers tracing a triangle onto your upper thigh. 

“Stop touching me, pervert! You sick freak! I have a boyfriend! I’ll kill you if you try anything!” 

Your scream is slightly muffled as you bang your hands on the sides of the circular machine.

Your back is aching from being bent over for the past ten minutes and you arch your back, holding back a pained moan. Whoever this asshole was, you were gonna rip him a new one when he freed you. 

Bakugo frowns as ‘boyfriend’ echoes inside his head. 

Were you being truthful or were you just trying to scare him off? 

It’s taking everything in him to not grind against you and with every passing second Bakugo feels closer to losing the battle with his sex driven core.

After another moment of deliberation, Bakugo reaches out, yanking you effortlessly out of the machine. 

God. 

You were just as pretty as he’d hoped. Face flushed and sweaty from being inside a confined space for so long, you collapse on your ass and fan yourself dramatically, taking in big gulps of fresh air before looking up to glare at him. 

“Fucking freak! What sort of perverted police officer are you?” You demand, frowning as Bakugo silently holds his hand out. 

A few seconds of silence pass before you awkwardly take it, allowing him to help you up. 

“Thank you,” you mumble as you wipe your hands on your shirt. 

Your eyebrows are still furrowed with frustration as you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Ugh… you’re so adorable, Bakugo wants to just squeeze you to death. 

Now he really wishes he hadn’t helped you out. You were helpless, bent over just perfectly, practically inviting him…. As his imagination runs wild, he feels the blood rushing towards his groin. 

Oblivious, you stretch your sore body, letting out a soft moan. You’re strangely relaxed, as if you were simply meeting an old friend. 

“I’m going to be arresting you now. Turn around,” Bakugo sighs, shifting his balance from foot to foot. If only he wasn’t an up-and-coming hero.

Your eyebrows raise and the ends of your lips quirk upwards. 

“Isn’t there something else I could do to get out of this?” You tease, turning around and holding your wrists behind your back.

Fuck. Is that you wiggling your ass or is he just seeing things? 

Bakugo’s breath hitches. The cold cuffs in his hands are only furthering his imagination. He’s about to pounce on you, but as he’s deciding which piece of your clothing he’ll rip away first—

“Don’t get any ideas, perv. That was a joke.” 

You giggle at his silence, looking back to glance at his face, which pales in humiliation.

You’re still laughing as Bakugo curses under his breath and shoves you harshly into the police car. 

You wouldn’t be laughing when he fucks you silly—which, he swears, he will one day. 

Since your destined meeting, you had been on Bakugo’s mind. 

Every. Single. Day. 

Your pout. Your delicate hands. Your arching back. Your whines and the way you try to fight back every time he walks you to the police van.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a phase.

To Bakugo’s horror, when he met up with the same newscaster from that night, he found himself unable to get hard, no matter how much she sucked him off. 

He could have waved that off as an anomaly, but six girls later, Bakugo finally had to admit he may have a problem on his hands. 

Bakugo knew the solution to his ED and meaningless infatuation with you.

He was sure all he had to do was fuck you. Easy enough— he’s confident in his sex appeal.

But you were also an impossible target.

You and your villain boyfriend moved around constantly, living under various aliases. 

And when Bakugo could finally meet you (about once a month, when your boyfriend’s plans were foiled once again) you were whisked off into police custody before he could even bring up sex. 

How was he even supposed to get to that topic, anyways? 

Hey, y/n. I only get hard when I see you cry. Or, actually, when I just think about you at all. 

Wanna bang?

Bakugo halfheartedly (almost unconsciously, this is just an immediate reaction to seeing you) discards his shorts and briefs as he leans against the back of the couch. 

Staring up at the ceiling, he’s now regretting letting his agency call for backup. 

He’d had you under him, in his own home. He even had a condom ready in his shorts— something he’s started carrying around since last year in hopes he’d get ambushed by you randomly.

It’s unfortunate he couldn’t take things further with you, but for tonight, his imagination and thoughts of you would have to suffice. 

He almost saw you cry…

Bakugo’s almost drooling at the memory of your teary eyes as you stared at your boyfriend, who was dragged away into the back of a van despite his protests.

Fuck. What does he have to do to make you cry? 

He throughout beating up Whiplash would be enough, but maybe you didn’t like your boyfriend as much as he thought— that makes him smile. 

“Ugh…” 

Bakugo can barely hold back a soft moan as his cock hardens quickly, now standing in his hand. 

It’s hot, and typically Bakugo would shed all his clothes, but tiny specks of your blood decorate his white top. It’s like you’re basically touching him.

He admires the bruising teeth prints on his right hand, the one that’s now slowly stroking his dick. 

Your mouth was on his hand. His hand. The thought alone makes him want to cum.

Bakugo allows himself a full stroke, groaning as he presses himself deeper into the couch.

It almost feels as if he’s simply overstimulating himself, as if he’d already cum— that’s how strong you were as a stimulus. 

With how much you tease, you’d start with the tip, wouldn’t you? 

Bakugo gently holds his cock at the base with his left hand and thumbs the tip, rubbing his rough thumb against the wet precum. 

He’d manhandle you, he’s imagined it countless times, it’s what a girl like you needs. 

In his imagination, you’d be a pillow princess. He’s confident about this. 

Your attitude, the way you demand he frees you… it all points towards you being a menace in bed.

You would saunter into the bedroom, wearing nothing but thin lingerie (in his favorite color, dark orange, almost red). You’d smirk as you climb onto his bed, making yourself comfortable. 

Your pretty eyes would narrow as he walks in shirtless with a raging boner. 

You would be sitting there, legs outstretched for him to grasp. 

Bakugo would grab your ankles in each hand, focusing on kissing your precious feet before moving upwards. 

He’d press his lips against your shin, your knee, then suck your plush thighs, savoring your taste. 

He’d maintain his eyes on you throughout, admiring the way your lips part slightly and your heavy breaths. You’d glare at him when you notice him staring at you— you’re always fighting back, aren’t you?

But in bed he’s the one in control. 

He’d get to your panties and give your clothed clit a lick, pinning down your legs that threaten to close. 

Bakugo would suck, embracing the taste of lace and your juices leaking from across the other side of clothing. 

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugo wasn’t that full of himself. 

In bed, he only has one priority— your pleasure. 

Bakugo allows himself to slightly loosen his grip and start stroking his entire length slowly, just like how you’d do it. 

Just a few singular strokes feel so good, his entire body lights up, electricity running up his spine. 

He runs his thumb along the one long vein from the base of his cock, shivering. His cock is getting heavier in his hand and a familiar pressure is slowly building in his stomach. 

After a few moments, Bakugo would finally push aside the flimsy fabric, licking your clit directly. 

He’d be fisting his cock while doing so, like he’s doing now, stroking to the rhythm of his flattened tongue. 

He’d be almost drooling at the taste, sometimes letting himself wander to your hole and slip his tongue in your tightness. He’d continue alternating between sucking and licking, relishing in your increasingly loud moans. 

Your legs would begin to tremble beneath him and you’d start begging quietly despite your stubbornness.

Your eyes would start to roll to the back of your head— and that’s when he’d stop, pulling away entirely, still stroking himself, tightening his fist around his heat if necessary to prevent himself from releasing. 

You’d whine and maybe kick him, legs weakened from your ruined orgasm. 

A little edging never hurt anyone. 

It only makes the pleasure of a shared orgasm stronger. 

Bakugo would tease your hole, nudging at the entrance with the tip of his leaking cock. 

Without warning, he’d thrust— you’d groan from the intrusion, grasping the sheets. 

He’d start moving mercilessly, pulling out his length to the tip before slamming it back in, over and over. He would quicken with your moans fueling his pace. 

He’d lean over to capture your pretty lips with his, intertwining your tongues. 

Fuck, Bakugo really isn’t going to last, especially with his new favorite mental photograph—you lying on your back helplessly. Bakugo’s mind does the photoshop for him, removing the debris from the explosion and placing the two of you on his bed.

He’s stroking himself fervently now, at the same pace he imagines himself fucking you at. 

You’d be shaking under him, holding back your tears. And, in typical y/n fashion, your pride would force you to hold your moans back. You’d be pressing your trembling hand against your mouth, wouldn’t you? You would be biting down on it, with the same teeth that were clamped down on his own hand earlier.

You’d cum as he rubs his thumb roughly against your clit, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth dropping open. 

Bakugo would make sure to ride you out throughout the entirety of your orgasm before allowing himself to fall into how tight and wet you are and reaching his peak himself. 

“y/n… I’m cumming…” 

Bakugo bites back a groan as his eyes close, lips almost breaking from how hard he’s clenching down. 

Continuing to pump, Bakugo’s hips lift as he thrusts into his fist one final time—his orgasm is so strong, it feels as though he’s losing control of his entire body, shaking as he feels his cum squirt and his cock pulsing from the base. 

When Bakugo finally gathers his energy, he opens his eyes, blinking uncomfortably at the harsh lights of the living room. There’s warm cum now cooling all over his hands and the coffee table in front of him, only adding to the list of things he has to clean up after your little home invasion. 

Sighing, Bakugo stands up, grabbing a tissue and wiping the traces of his release away. 

It’s a little humiliating.

Yet another day of having to imagine you writhing under him to get off. 

Bakugo won’t admit it— he never will— but honestly, it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be.

But he knows the real thing will be better. 

Now, if only he could get his hands on you… 

a/n yeah so i rewrote this whole thing on 4 hours of sleep so its prob shit and the formatting is wonky but whatevs.

STAN ENHYPEN STREAM SWEET VENOM (ENG VER)

[allywthsr]

BAKING COOKIES | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando bake some cookies

wordcount: 1.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: this is my favorite cookie recipe, try it out!! And the picture on the right is my pictures, look at how stunning it is🥹. Like always, comment your thoughts!!

advent calendar

”Okay Lando, are you ready?“

”They’re gonna burn.“

”No, they’re not!“

”I‘m in the kitchen, of course, they’ll burn.“

”I‘m watching them, and they won’t.“

You tied your apron before you helped Lando with his. It became a tradition to bake cookies together, and this year was no different.

”Let’s get the ingredients out on the kitchen island, two hundred and fifty grams of butter, five hundred grams of flour, two-hundred and fifty grams of sugar, six egg yolks, and a pinch of salt.“

With every ingredient you listed, Lando opened different cupboards and the fridge to get all the things on the counter, placing various containers with different contents. You recently got more Pinterest-looking like containers and you loved them, the square-shaped boxes had big white stickers on them with different foods, that were written in cursive. Thankfully, due to your spacious kitchen, you had enough space to both move around and do your thing.

”As always, baby, can you sift the flour on the surface?“

He nodded and got the sieve out of the cupboard, weighed five-hundred grams of flour in a bowl, and let the flour fall through the tiny holes, creating a hill of fine flour. Next, he added the two-hundred and fifty grams of sugar on top of it, and because you two made this recipe every year, he automatically squeezed a dent in the middle of the hill with his long and slick fingers. While he was doing that, you got the six eggs out of the carton and separated the egg yolk from the egg white into a bowl, a few drops of egg were spilled on the surface, but you could clean that later. The egg yolks were poured into the dent of the flour and Lando got the two-hundred and fifty grams of butter out of its package and cut it into small pieces which he placed around and on the rest of the flour. Last but not least, you added a pinch of salt and now began the more or less fun part.

Kneading.

It was always messy, took way too much time, and both of you wanted the other one to do it. Every year you played a round of rock-paper-scissors and mostly Lando won, so you had to do the work.

”Who‘s going to knead this year?“

”Rock-paper-scissors, but only one round?“

You nodded and held your hand out. With three swinging movements and both of you saying Rock-paper-scissors out loud, Lando and you held out a scissor, so you had to play another round. Repeating what you just did, you went for the rock but Lando chose paper, which made you the loser of the game.

That meant, kneading.

So you got to work and removed everything that could catch flour on it, from your arm.

With skilled movements, you pushed all the ingredients together and started to knead, as always the texture felt weird and funny. Lando was laughing at the weird faces you pulled, the egg was cold, the butter soft and the little grains from the sugar were not mixing with the flour, it was a mess. You tried to knead as fast as you could to get over with it, but it felt like a lifetime, now Lando was filming you with his phone, recording a video to send to the Norris and Y/L/N family group chat. Almost everyone laughed at your expressions that clearly showed your discomfort with the mixture that was in between your fingers, only the mothers were giving you advice on how to get the perfect consistency of the dough. You had to have warm hands, so the ingredients would mix faster, but now it was too late, your hands were sticky with the egg and flour and you couldn’t warm them up.

Eventually, Lando put his phone down and hugged you from behind, watching your hands from over your shoulder, leaving slight kisses on your shoulder and neck.

”I love you, baby.“

”I love you too, Lan.“

He was a clingy boy when it came to Christmas. Always hugging you, always kissing you, and he loved to watch Christmas movies and cuddle. Maybe the Christmas spirit always gets to him.

When the dough slowly started to form, you were happy. At least you were beginning to see some progress, within ten minutes it became a hard dough, you rolled it into a ball and wrapped it in cling foil, now it had to rest in the fridge for one hour. During the hour you cleaned the mess that you two created and got out the cookie cutters, the rolling pin, and more flour as well as preparing the baking trays, pre-heating the oven to two hundred degrees Celsius. Recently you bought some new cookie cutters and you were in love, little reindeers, Santa’s, elf’s, and the list goes on and on.

Lando was singing Christmas songs and running around the kitchen while you tried to set everything up, every now and then he would hug you and spin you around the kitchen, trying to get you to dance with him.

Before you knew it, your phone was beeping, signaling the hour was over and the dough was ready. You divided the dough into multiple sections and began to roll the first piece into a small layer, about two centimeters thick, now Lando took a cookie cutter, and put it in the flour to cover the edges with it, so the dough wouldn’t stick to it and pressed the Santa into the yellow mixture. He put the Santa on a baking tray that you covered with baking paper, with a proud grin.

”Look, Y/N! It’s our first cookie this year.“

You stroked his cheek and looked for the next cutter to create a cookie. A snowman caught your eye, you covered it in flour and pressed it in the dough, and carefully you took the cookie on the baking paper. Both of you repeated that step multiple times until the first tray was filled with little shapes. You put it in the oven for about ten minutes and slowly the kitchen started to smell like a Christmas bakery. Lando was being the funny one he is and tried to get flour in your face, eventually, your nose was white, your left cheek had traces of white and your forehead had a white thumb on it after Lando said ’Simba‘ while crackling. He is the most unserious twenty-four-year-old there is.

Little Christmas trees, reindeers, stars, bells, etc. made their way on the baking trays that you put into the oven. Every ten minutes freshly baked cookies made their way on a cooling grid, or in someone’s mouth, until the last batch was done and now it was time to wait for them to cool down. In the meantime, you cleaned up again and this time you prepared for the decorating progress, melted white and dark chocolates were placed on the kitchen table, next to sprinkles and colorful royal icing you found in the store. Lando wasn’t a big help at all, he was clinging onto you and hugging you from behind, you would give him something to put on the table and he’d be back in no time, cuddling. It was cute tho, you loved that he showed how he truly is, a cuddling teddy bear who loves to eat sweets and cookies, especially Christmas cookies.

After a Christmas sing-off, the cookies were cold enough to be decorated. Lando immediately got to work and so did you, snowmen were painted white with brown chocolate spots to recreate the face, Christmas trees got green royal icing all over them, and other cookies just got a dip in the chocolate and sprinkles. It was a mess but it was a lot of fun, every now and then Lando would giggle and show you what he did, a lot of cookies got fours all over them, claiming it was enough decoration.

When both of you were finished and the place was cleaned up, Lando sat on the couch, munching on the cookies and you were sure you had to bake new ones next week.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Six of Crows Russian Edition

Today I found this gorgeous gem at the bookstore!

So a few years ago I moved overseas to live in a Russian speaking country. I am not in Russia, for the record. The national language here is not Russian, but it is commonly spoken in my city.

Today at the bookstore I looked for a copy of Crooked Kingdom for the cast of Shadow and Bone to sign this May when I go to A Storm of Shadows and Crows convention in Paris. I don't own a copy of SOC or KC in English and there's no chance of finding one where I live. The next best option was getting a book in the local language and calling it a souvenir of my time abroad. To my delight I found this lovely Russian edition of Six of Crows!

More stunning artwork below.

There were multiple versions of the books to choose from. The original art and the Netflix artwork were available too. The most impressive part was finding copies of the original covers WITHOUT the Netflix sticker. (Haha, suck it Netflix.) To the right, not pictured were King of Scars and Rule of Wolves.

I've never seen this cover variation before. It was an exciting find!

The Russian version I bought is illustrated by (I assume Russian?) artist Eva Eller.

I didn't see a copy of Crooked Kingdom with illustrations by the same artist at this bookstore, but it must exist. Mine was the last copy of SOC with the Russian artwork. Maybe it was sold out?

Google Translate titles the book Six of Ravens, lol. But that's just a translation error because a little google-foo showed that ворона (pronounced vorona) means crow. Interestingly, while typing the title, I learned that вор (pronounced vor) means thief. Interesting how similar the words crow and thief are in Russian. Checks out.

Above is the art printed on the side of the pages. Love how it still includes the side of the pages colored, just like the original books.

The hardcover underneath the jacket is a crow. It's not the same as pictured on the original CK cover, but it is similar. Love the messy, broken, bent feathers, yet the crow is still able to fly. Metaphor for our six characters? Absolutely!

The book was wrapped in cellophane so I didn't realize there was even more art inside! Here is the inner cover. IT'S BEAUTIFUL! The back is the same. It captures the foggy haze of Ketterdam so well.

The flaps of the book jacket are images from the inner cover. But there's a cracked texture over them that gives it a gorgeous grittiness.

The candle is the left side of the inner book jacket. Sorry the image isn't flat, I didn't want to damage the jacket by straightening it out.

The right side of the book jacket shows all the Crows!

Let's appreciate how Matthias looks snow pale and serious. Inej is taller than Nina -- she must be standing on a step stool. No clue why both of their eyes are closed, especially when Nina is the one pointing to the paper. They are lovely. Kaz has on his scheming face. Jesper is as handsome as every version of him should be. And Wylan looks bored AF because A.) he's already memorized the map he drew or B.) he can't read whatever document Kaz has in front of them. Wait, no, Wylan is making heart eyes at Jesper. All of the above can be true.

Inside is a small illustration at the beginning of each chapter, which changes with each section.

You can also see the Crow's names written in Cyrillic. Inej, Kaz, Nina, and Matthias translate easily. Jesper uses the д (letter D) and ж (pronounced like zhe) letter combination that makes his name sound like Zhesper since there is no J in Cyrillic. It's worth pointing out (again) that Wylan's name does not translate perfectly. There is no W in the Cyrillic alphabet. (As someone who also has a W in their name, I sympathize with Wylan here.) I'm no expert in Russian, but I'm pretty sure -- with the help of google translate -- that Wylan is pronounced as Oo-ai-len. Poor boy can't catch a break.

Each of the five section of the book use different chapter art. They all do an excellent job capturing the atmosphere.

The paper is so thin that you can easily see the printing on the opposite side. Not ideal for an edition that's otherwise this lovely. Oh well.

Given that Ravka is fantasy Russia, it's not a surprise to find the Grisha Verse books in Russian.

I am so excited to bring this book to Paris for the cast to sign!

[theycalledhimastar]

You guys seemed to like the last one, so here, more weird shit except with my darling dearest husband, Captain Price.

☄. *.

We all kinda knew this already, but this man snores something horrendous. Like he sounds like the tiktok audio of someone's dad snoring. You thought it wasn't possible to be kept up by snoring this loud until you slept in the same room as John.

LIKE BABY BOY YOU NEED TO GET THAT CHECKED OUT THAT IS NOT NATURAL

Sneezes equally loud too, although I'm not really saying anything the rest of the fandom hasn't already, so let's get specific, shall we?

Watches the news and reads the newspaper unironically. And the newspaper isn't even digital, mans wants to read it on paper. He seriously pays for a subscription to that stuff and reads it every morning during breakfast. Says it ain't the same with a tablet or phone despite him being fully capable of using both.

Is the type to halfway pay attention during a movie because he's distracted or doing something else and then ask questions about everything. But if you ever try to do the same, he gets irritated and tells you (lovingly) to pay attention if you want to know.

Like exsqueeze me? Rich coming from you bro. Real Rich.

The type to stock up on something if it's on sale whether or not you actually want it or need it.

"John, we have plenty of paper towels at home."

"Yeah babe, but 40 percent off, that's a damn good deal."

like boo bear it's not the pandemic, we don't need to do that.

Maybe invest in a large pantry because you will need it. For the fifty million on sale items you'll have.

good at remembering the melodies to songs, terrible about remembering the words. So he hums everything or makes up his own words to make you laugh.

Mixes all his food together when he gets it so it's all one unanimous texture. (Idk man, this one, I just feel in my soul.) Like bro mixed his vegetables with his potatoes before he ate it, and he did it meticulously to ensure it was done right. Not that he doesn't love your cooking, he just has to eat it this way or it doesn't feel right.

Smells like Febreze. Like, if he's going somewhere nice, he will wear a nice cologne and stuff, but if he's having a relaxing day off, he smells like Febreze to cover up the smell of cigar smoke. Insists it smells less intrusive. You beg to differ, but whatever, he's trying.

Hot take, he puts all his effort into his facial hair that he doesn't bother with his straight up hair. He slaps a hat on it and calls it good because like, nobody's gonna see it anyways. He has it short so he doesn't have to comb it constantly. (Unless of course, he has somewhere nice to be.)

[ryo-kaikura]

Yan! Male Teachers + Male Yandere x male reader

*this is based on a dream I had this morning*

(Reader is on his last year so he's 18 (he's not held back I just try to make it okay with an adult partner) (my dream is PG-13(the yandere is made up), I just like spice)

My life is normal I guess, the difference with normal people at my age is my current school. This is takes "school feels like a prison" seriously with how we sleep at school eat at school and etc.

For our class, it's literally right next to the teacher's room. And each grade has a different section. Because it's a prestigious school the student is a lot more than the teacher by 50% of the teachers population.

Anyway, you might be asking, do you always have class? The answer is no, cause our right door is a building for gym and gymnasium. The door in front of us is where usually all the supplies comes in.

Today there is a monthly test. it's usually for additional points and support for our future. Example: last year it was making a sentence that's in correlation with a word and we can't use that word. There lots more but every time we were paired.

Look at that I'm also paired up again weirdly enough it's the "prince of the school" the one that's said to be the best for our grade, though his grade is in the top two, guess who's grade is higher? That right me. Since we're better than everyone, we get hallway to ourselves

It's so fun being better at him, when he gets a 100% me too, when he gets a 99% Boohoo I got a 100%. His body is also quite fit, but it's obvious with my height and body that I'm still better than him, with his being shorter than me. It's quite fun toying with him, his expression of flustered and anger add a smidge of pink on his face, neck and tip of his ears.

We're getting carried away. This year's test is a box of puzzles? With a textured flooring? Whatever. We saw the first test, summarizing a foreign language book, and there's our names on it. It seems like something from our teacher Mr. David. Then he shows up, "hello Mr. David" "Hello, (m/n)~" He was always flirty with me "hi Mr. David" "Hello to you too, mark".then he told us about it in detail "As you can see it's summarizing a book and because I prefer (m/n) than you, mark, (m/n) gets a 50 page and you get a 250 page it's sounds quite fair don't you think (m/n)" "Sure 😀"

Anyway, we're done with that, the next are some simple mathematics and that's from our other teachers. Wow it looks like we have to build a Miniature real life-like humanoid chess pieces. Now it seems like we're done but there's no announcement, then I realized the flooring is a bit whacky so I try to pick one up. It works. I open one and inside it is extra pieces for the sculpture and that's from Mr. Sears, the science teacher that likes to use science to hide a lot of things

It's similar with how some sounds lie it has a lot but there is none and then one of then sounds like it doesn't have any but when we opened it there was a lot of extra sculpture pieces. Then I saw one of the boxes has a piece of paper. I was about to read it out loud then I feel a finger right next to my stomach, and I couldn't help but feel ticklish and jerk away from the finger. Turns out it the said teacher, Mr. Sears, and he kept tickling me every time I try to say it out loud. In the end he made me stand up and go to a corner and read it in my head. Most of it was clues until the last number on the price of paper that said 'I will be going to *city name* in a few days' "I don't care" "What!" " We're not that close teach~, Well not as close as me and Mr. David~."

Then he stormes off, don't know what happened but in the end me and Mark Finished first.

*A few days later*

It seems like Mr. Sears didn't go and one of our teacher was suddenly sent to the hospital

*A few month later*

I finally graduated, best of the year as well because of that I get a lot of money lie a billion I think. But right when I was going head home, I felt someone covering my head, then two people try to grab me and they're quite strong, but not strong enough. Suddenly I feel something injected to my neck. And I grew weak and dizzy not long after I passed out. While why kidnappers was smiling over me.

It's been a while since I woke up but I still don't know where I am. There a window that just over my head so I'm able to get hold of it and pulled my self up and saw... A beach?

Then after looking around and the sun almost overhead meaning it's currently 11.30 ish o'clock. Three people come in and guess who? It the weirdos. Mr. David feels shy, Mr. Sears a bit nervous and Mark quite happy.

And the brought their own dish a I must say the best is Mr. David, with the other two being barely palatable. In the end we slept right next to each other.

*A year later* (I'm lazy)

My self-made company worked well, but my "wives" seems quite jealous of everything I do even though we haven't gotten married yet and Mark and Sears are working as my two secretary and David being at home. I must say David's body got more chubby and soft, I like it. Mark kept trying to be better at me at everything and kept losing, example: who can cum the last, I won, who's stronger, I won, and much more. And Sears gotten smarter at where he's hiding my stuff, like my underwear, sweaty gym clothes, a pen I chewed.

I'm happy there entertaining because I just remembered I'm a side character in a book and they're male leads, all three of them, and who's the female lead you ask? The new rising employee in my own company, Janice.

[fuckmyskywalker]

Egg — Anakin Skywalker

— CW: 18+, smut! Bottom!Anakin (yummy), sex toys (exactly this type of dick masturbator toys), some degradation, cum play.

— a/n: What can I say, I am a whore. This is rather short because I don't really feel like writing a bibble. I'm absolutely going insane in my apartment so I need to feel validation from strangers online 🥰.

Seeing someone as imposing, respected and feared as the Chosen one thrusting into your hand like a bitch in heat, was certainly one of those wonder little pleasures in life.

You see his hands tightly curled up in fists, tied up above his head, as his hips raise and fall from the bed trying desperately to speed up the movements of your hand around his already leaking, hard cock.

"Stay still" You warn him, giving him a sharp but small slap on his thigh. Anakin gasps and bites his lip, but he doesn't cease. "Maker… you are quite bratty today." Your words are laced with annoyance. Your hand around his dick squeezes him at the base, as your free hand reaches upwards to his chest to pinch his left nipple.

Anakin whines, this time in pain. "Sorry!" He cries, closing his eyes and whimpering when you twist his nipple painfully, he might look like he's not enjoying it, but his dick twitches in your grip and when you look down to it, you notice a bead of precum sliding down the base.

Because that disgusting bastard loves it when you hurt him.

"Too late for apologies, you dirty whore." You huff, slapping his chest. Anakin whines again, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry! I really am" He looks at you with pleading eyes, and you know he's saying the truth, but torturing him is just so fun.

"Fine…" You give his nipple a last squeeze which earns you a delightful moan.

Outstretching your hand to reach the paper bag that awaits on top of Anakin's nightstand, you notice from the corner of your eye how he squirms in anticipation. Anakin can be impatient, and the brattiness that he often carries whenever you two are alone is only a fuel to the burning desire that yearns in you. In this moment, Anakin is only a toy.

Your boyfriend watches with eagerness dripping down his irises how you unwrap the little silicon egg from the safety package, before grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring some inside the egg hole, and some more over the sensitive tip of his cock.

He hisses at the cold sensation of the lube, gripping the bedsheets tightly. Your hand spreads the lube over his length, drinking every bits of his moans and smirking mischievously.

"You ready?" You ask him sweetly, some of the dominant façade fading away.

"Hmm." Anakin nods, giving you the shadow of a smile. The trust and love flowing in between your eyes is magical. "I'm ready."

"Good boy." You whisper, giving his thigh a soft squeeze smearing some of the remains of the lube over him.

The second you slide his cock inside the little silicone egg, Anakin believes his soul left his body and then returned. The sensation it's… absolutely fucking amazing. Sure, it's not even comparable to the heavenly and warm feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him, but— it's definitely better than his own hand, or his pillows, or perhaps even your hand.

And somehow Anakin feels guilty about it.

But then— you begin to slide the silicone toy up and down his dick, not even reaching midway when his tip hits the top of the egg. The texture inside the silicone is driving him insane, forcing him to bite the back of his hand to keep his moans at a minimum level.

The slick sounds of his dick sliding up an down the sex toy are borderline pornographic, Anakin feels incredibly embarrassed at how fucking hard his dick is he covers his face with his arms, moaning with his mouth wide open. Usually you would've punish him for hiding his pretty face, but right now your eyes are completely fixated on the lewd way his wet cock practically is abused by the toy. The different ridges, spirals, forms and sensations all around his cock and his reactions mesmerize you completely.

You see firsthand how his balls tighten and how Anakin is lost in a bliss of pleasure. His hips snap and raise from the bed helplessly, making him look even more pathetic that he did minutes prior. He is close, so close and you can see it by the way his thrust become sloppy and he relies in the movements of your hand.

"You want to come?" You ask him, already knowing the answer. The furious nodding coming from your boyfriend is nothing less than adorable. "Come on, do it. Be a good boy and fill it with cum. Imagine it's me."

And he explodes.

His sticky, warm cum overflows the sex you, sliding down his cock and pooling at the base, some of it even dripping all the way to his balls. When you retract the egg from his length it pops out with a loud noise, more cum oozing from the toy. You are aware of Anakin's eyes staring at you from the bed, his head now slightly raised with a pillow underneath it; so, you bring the toy closer to your lips, sticking your tongue out and let some of his still hot cum drip over your tongue which makes him groan and close his eyes, dangerously close to pop another boner.

Licking your lips, you throw the disposable toy inside the same paper bag, reaching for Anakin's shirt and cleaning up his cock and thighs from his own release and the lube.

"I love you, did you know that?" Anakin whispers breathlessly, smiling at you with droopy eyes.

"I love you too, Ani."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

[vimeddiart]

I DREW MY OC TOAST AAAAAA

The folks at XPPen sent me the XPPen Deco Pro (Gen 2):

XPPen is having its 18th anniversary, and is celebrating with sales and product promos, so it's worth checking those out.

My thoughts on the tablet (and purchase links) under the cut!

⭐ Review ⭐

First impressions: After unboxing the tablet, I thought it sleek and professional-looking, especially after setting it up with my PC.

The remote I LOVED right out of the box because I enjoy fiddling with buttons and wheels. The keys are super satisfying to press.

The pen and storage case are nicely complete, lots of spare nibs to switch out (though I mainly stuck to the default nib while drawing, the textured ones have a nice gritty feel similar to paper).

I had some troubleshooting when I started, as connecting to Bluetooth wasn't happening with either the tablet or the remote. I tested the Bluetooth connection with a different device and my phone successfully, but couldn't with my work PC. I was promptly helped by XPPen Support, and it turned out to be a Windows update messing things up, so I uninstalled it and Boom; I could connect both the tablet and remote, no problem. Up until then, I used both via cable, which was a convenient option!

The tablet: The XL model at 15 x 9 inches, with plenty of space to work (although you'll need space to put it, luckily I have a lot of desk to spare), and can connect via cable or Bluetooth. It also looks so dang pretty.

The tablet was so smooth, and the pressure (16k pressure levels) felt amazing to draw with. After fiddling around with the pen settings, I barely had to press down to get a nice flowy line.

I usually work on a screen tablet, so it took some getting used to returning to a pen tablet and looking at my PC screen again, but it came back to me quickly. It actually helped my posture, as I tend to shrimp-curl over my screen tablet while working.

As lovely as it was to work on, I feel this size may be too large for me, despite it being perfectly proportional to my PC screen. I like to draw quickly, and I noticed myself making more effort to travel over the surface of the tablet and tiring my arm out faster than usual. I needed to take more breaks and stretch often, although I could classify that as positive. That said, this tablet has a sloped resting area that helped. All my drawing tablets have been medium-sized, so I'm probably just conditioned to that surface area.

The battery lasted as long as it took to draw this piece and more! I didn't need to charge it the entire time.

The remote: I love this thing so much. It has ten shortcut keys and a wheel you can configure to your heart's desire. Five sets of key functions!!! That's fifty shortcuts!! I only configured four sets and struggle to memorise them, but it's very convenient. I have my keyboard right next to the tablet and would bang out shortcuts there, but this remote changed my life.

I've been using it for a month now, and it still hasn't needed charging!

The pen: Comfy to use, with a design I was already accustomed to, and one thing I noticed was that the nib wasn't scratching the heck out of the tablet. After all the drawing I did with it, not a single mark.

I LOVE popping the case open to retrieve or store the pen, and it's one of those physical things that I find satisfying and so rare with digital products. I thought it would be nice to have a pen stand too, but I have pet birds that will (and have) run away with my tablet pens, so a storage case is a strong solution.

Final thoughts: This is a solid tablet with the potential to become an essential tool for industry professionals and freelancers. I didn't think I could be convinced out of a screen tablet, but I was offered a super strong contender. I can confidently recommend it, plus my experience with support was a positive one that boosted my trust in the brand. Overall, I had a great time using this tablet and really appreciate the opportunity I've been given to try it out!

⭐ Purchase links ⭐

US Walmart Store

CA official store

[prettyprettypaci2]

Therapy - Part 5

💕 Part 1 💕 Part 2 💕 Part 3 💕 Part 4 💕

"I'm guessing you know what we're going to talk about today."

You're sitting on the familiar couch in Miss Heather's office, swaying nervously back and forth like a rocking horse at full gallop. Your breathing is rapid and irregular, escaping as squeaky little puffs from your frantically bobbing pacifier. You feel your twin French braids slap your bare shoulders with each heaving swing. You hug yourself with crossed arms, digging welts into your thighs with your glittery acrylic nails.

Everything had been going so well for you these last few months. Christmas had come and gone without too much distress; your gifts were all dumb things like patterned diapers and fluffy petticoats, but you had expected nothing less when you saw the sparkling pink wrapping paper. You had started going outside more, with Miss Heather taking you on a short trip or errand every therapy session. Other than a few snickering college girls or confused old ladies on park benches, your diapers and ridiculous outfits had rarely caused a stir, and you stopped whining so much about the excursions after returning to Miss Heather's office.

But now you've ruined everything.

You wait for Miss Heather to give you some words of comfort, to talk you down from your frenzy. But she simply observes you with an unreadable expression. Many minutes pass, and fatigue starts to set in. Your breathing remains heavy, but slows into a normal rhythm. Your violent rocking reduces to an unsteady shiver. You look into Miss Heather's eyes, silently pleading for her to make it better. To forgive you. She remains silent.

You think back to the very first time you met Miss Heather, when your step-sisters first started faking your accidents. She had been unlike anyone you had ever met -- clinical and challenging with her questions, but still deeply kind. You had assumed that as soon as you explained how your family was treating you, she would contact your step-mom and put a stop to the diapers that very day. Looking down now at the pony-patterned cloud of padding taped to your hips, you shake your head at how naïve you had been.

You uncross your arms and grab the end of one of your French braids. It's tied off with a bouncy pink-and-silver ribbon. You hate wearing ribbons, or anything else prissy, but the pink and silver parts have different textures you like to touch. The pink is soft and silky; the silver is coarse and lacy. You never used to care about little sensations like that, but in your constant isolation and boredom, you find yourself exploring them often. Miss Heather encourages it, telling you it's a way to discover the world all over again.

You've calmed down now, remaining tense but still. You close your eyes for a few seconds, then let them flutter open, tickling your brow with the comically long eyelashes Lauren had glued on. You realize your therapy isn't going to start until you speak. You let your pacifier fall out of your mouth and dangle from its purple clip.

"It was stupid. I was stupid."

Miss Heather remains unsmiling, but you swear her eyes soften. You love her for that.

"Why did you do it?"

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. "I didn't want to do this anymore. I wanted to go back to how things were...b-before the diapers." You catch yourself. "Before MY diapers."

Miss Heather crosses her legs. "And you thought you could do that by stealing?"

You quake a bit when you hear her say the word. It was just a pair of cotton underwear. On clearance. Your step-mom had wandered off to find some cartoon-themed snow boots in your size, and you saw them on the shelf. The shortalls you wore yesterday had little pockets at the waist you could hide them in.

"I said I was sorry," you whimper. This is true. When Olivia had found the underwear in your room, she held you down and twisted your arm until you confessed. Your step-mom had driven you back to the clothing store and forced you to apologize to the lady at the register. You're sure the old woman had never seen an adult sob so much.

Miss Heather leans towards you and rests her chin on an open palm. "When would you have worn the underwear? Would you have taken off your diapers and hoped your step-mom wouldn't notice? Would you have left home?"

"I don't knoooooooow," you moan pathetically, leaning away and flitting your pretty eyelashes towards the ceiling as you pull on your braids. "I just wanted to have them."

Miss Heather lets the thought hang in the air before she speaks. "It's normal to want things you can't have. But to feel so strongly about it that you're willing to steal is very concerning. Do you think what you did was wrong?"

You sniffle. "Yeah..."

"Do you? Or are you just saying that because you think it's the right answer?"

You meet Miss Heather's gaze, which still shows more severity than sympathy. You ponder the question for a moment. "It was wrong to steal," you begin slowly, then add quietly: "But some days...it's just so hard to wear my diapers."

Miss Heather pulls out her smartphone and gives it a few taps. The TV screen on the wall lights up with a cartoonish diagram of the human brain. Pulling out a laser pointer, she swivels it around the section labeled "frontal lobe."

"In psychology, there's a difference between moral judgment and moral reasoning," she says, taking on the tone of a schoolteacher. "You can decide that something is right or wrong, but make a different decision based on what your desires are. Usually these two things line up pretty well -- we try to do what we think is right. But when our choices don't match our values, we want to correct the imbalance. We do this by trying to associate the bad behavior with something unpleasant."

Your mouth hangs open stupidly as Miss Heather lectures. She notices your confusion.

"Like a punishment," she clarifies, taking the image off the TV and setting her smartphone down. "Did your step-mom punish you after you apologized?"

You shift uncomfortably on your padded butt. You had kicked and screamed and pleaded, but your step-mom gave you the worst spanking of your life. "Yeah."

"That's normal. But fixing those connections between beliefs and choices is much easier when you recognize they don't match, and you take steps to confront it yourself. This is how guilt helps us. I know you have an icky feeling in your tummy that you just want to go away."

You nod sullenly, shuffling your feet. You watch the butterfly decals on the toes of your shoes glitter in the light.

Miss Heather goes on. "There's an old expression, 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' The best way to avoid that yucky feeling is to fix the imbalance before you engage in the behavior. If you had told your step-mom in the store that you wanted to steal that underwear, but didn't do it, how would things have worked out differently?"

You hold your breath for a moment, considering the question. "I wouldn't have done it, because she would have been watching me."

"Do you think she still would have punished you?"

The memory of your spanking makes you wince again. "Maybe..."

"And that would have been a good thing! The punishment reinforces that connection between actions and consequences. But instead of feeling yucky guilt, you feel pride that you made the right choice and asked your step-mom for help in a moment of weakness."

You slowly pump your toes up and down, making the butterfly decals dance and shimmer. "So I should get punished even when I do nothing wrong?"

"You should ask to be corrected when you know you need it," Miss Heather replies. "Look at me for a moment."

You tear your eyes away from the trance of your pretty shoes and meet your therapist's gaze.

"Let's say you were left at home for a week. Your step-mom and step-sisters go away on a little trip and you're all by yourself. Do you think you would still follow all of your rules? Would you still wear your diapers?"

You know there's only one way you can answer honestly. It's a fantasy you've described to Miss Heather too many times already. "No," you say, starting to tremble. "I wouldn't."

"Would that be wrong, to break rules when your family is away?"

A lump finds its way into your throat. "Y-yeah..."

"So what do we do now? You know what's right, but your brain wants to do wrong. If it ever happens -- and it may happen someday -- you know that guilty feeling will start eating you up. What should you do about it?"

You grip your braids again, feeling the coarse silver and silky pink of the ribbons more intensely than ever. "A-ask to be punished?"

"Good!" Miss Heather smiles for the first time this whole session, and your heart begins to melt. The tension evaporates, washing away like a sand castle in the tide of Miss Heather's forgiving praise. "Why don't you lie down on your tummy and explain to me why you need to be punished. You can hold Mr. Kazoo if you'd like."

You're terrified by what's about to happen, but you're past the point of being able to fight it. You stretch out on the couch, your fat diapered bottom wiggling in the air. You pull your giant stuffed teddy bear from his perch on the floor and wrap your arms around his neck. "Sometimes I think about not wearing my diapers," you begin cautiously.

You hear the hardwood floors creak as Miss Heather rises and approaches, outside your field of vision. "Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

The shivering returns and you clutch Mr. Kazoo closer. "Um...y-yes."

The floorboards fall silent. You can smell Miss Heather's perfume behind you.

"The rule is that you always wear your diapers now."

You can barely breathe. "I shouldn't break the rules."

You scrunch up your face in frightened anticipation. Miss Heather says something else but you don't hear it. All you can think of is Lauren sneering at you as she delivers one of her favorite taunts: "Good girl."

Good girl.

Good girl.

You're going to be a good girl.

💕 Part 6 💕

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Brother Pt 3

Tw: suffocating unbearable love, violence, general yandere, female reader shenanigans, infantilization, and of course incest. also christmas

minors and ageless blogs dni please <3

click here for part 1 and part 2

Click here for my new oc Yves (PLEASE READ IT I LOVE YVES)

plotholes and emglish errors everywhere and i could not be bothered :100emoji: please dont point it out thanks xoxo

Caught the Covid fuk now i cant leave my bed im so damn sick and pukey all the time, i dont fuckin know where my roommate is but at least they're not here to get infected, feeling like a busted up rustbucket rn

So this was originally written last year, couldnt find what else to write but this christmas time is perfect, so like dont mind the shoehorning of Christmas somewhere in this fic

You're having your summer break and you plan to pick up on a new hobby. Crocheting, perhaps.

Fuck, your brother picked up your search history from his spyware. Now you're left to deal with $1000 worth of wonderful quality crocheting materials and your big brother being your personal crocheting mentor.

This is where it gets frustrating. Yes, if you have the resources, you would enjoy your hobbies more. But, just like... What if you didn't like crocheting in the end? You're stuck with all these.

It happens to every single potential hobby. Stamp collecting? Your big brother will bid to the death for an extremely rare stamp from the 1900. You're not even fucking collecting the stamps, the stamp book already comes arranged with all the stamps ever produced. A collection that would only give a hardcore stamp collector an instant orgasm upon sniffing it.

Nail art? Where the hell should you keep all the acrylic powders, fake nails, drills and drill bits? Not to mention the dizzying numbers of nail polishes, nail brushes, nail stickers and cuticle sticks. Of course, your big brother is going to hire a professional nail artist to make sure you're practicing your hobby safely while he's learning how to do it himself, so he could replace your mentor too. He would become so skilled that he could qualify to open up a 5 star nail salon. But he's not interested unless you are.

Painting? you absolutely do NOT need all of those tubes of paint. The difference in shades for some of them are so small that you mistook it for the same colour. You would have a headache choosing the right type of paper, right type of primer and right type of fixative to use.

Are you having troubles on painting? Let big brother teach you. You would sit on his lap as he guide your hands across the canvas. Don't you think his warm hand enveloping yours feel nice? Doesn't his free hand feels nice sensually rubbing your thigh? Don't you just feel protected in his hold?

Makeup? Same situation with your nail hobby. You're essentially being babied by him and experienced celebrity makeup artists, you would drown in a mountain of eyeshadow palettes, primers, setting sprays, skin care products, anything and everything related to makeup.

Every instrument ever? Big brother would insist lovingly providing all the music lessons you need. He is a musical prodigy after all. If it's something ridiculously obscure like a Glass Armonica or the Theremin, big brother would master it in a couple of weeks, earn a fucking pHD in it and THEN teach you. No instrument is too expensive or hard for him. Your big brother is crossing his fingers HARD for you to have this hobby.

Chess? Oh, he is also a prodigy in it. He could teach you. Your chess pieces would be custom made to your liking, by the way. It would be the perfect density, perfect size, perfect texture for you. He knows what you like and you hate that.

Sports? Take a look at his "achievement room". It's filled to the brim with golden medals and trophies of every sport competition ever. He's not leaving you alone for this one.

Pottery? Welcome to your very own personal pottery studio, furnished with all types of drying racks, ovens, kilns, turntables and equipments you have never heard of. Big brother is always there to supervise you, making sure there won't be any accidents.

Cooking and baking? You get to have an industrial sized kitchen all for yourself. Everything is decorated such that it looks like you would be on television, starring in a cooking show. You don't need to clean anything, or prep anything, or actually do anything, really. There's a team of professional chefs and assistants to do everything for you. They're paid to cheer and clap and celebrate when you pour cake batter into a pan.

Gardening? Well, there's a massive plot of fertile land for you to garden to your heart's content at the house he bought as your 18th birthday gift. If you want a big project, it will be done overnight. You wouldn't hear the gigantic machineries and vehicles tumbling about due to the soundproof walls he installed. No one would be able to hear you both either, doing god-knows-what inside.

Video games? Your big brother personally do not encourage you to pursue this. But... Nonetheless, he would spoil you rotten with all the latest gaming consoles, limited edition merchandises, pre release copies of your favorite game franchises and whatever your gamer heart desires. All at a hefty price of... Daily cuddles and kisses. And you also have to move in with him. And he gets to decide what game you're playing, if he deems it a "bad influence"? It is not staying in his house.

You rather not.

Nothing is fun because the fun parts are already done for you. You don't get to experience the highs and lows of picking up a hobby, you don't get to explore and experiment. You're literally cursed with luxury.

So imagine your boredom, stress and paranoia during summer break. All your friends are spies for your brother, your hobbies aren't even "yours", leaving your house would inevitably lead you to your brother and all digital footprints are heavily scrutinized by him too. No privacy, no autonomy, all monotony.

You juggled three smartphones at once. Throwing one up in the air, catching the other one with your dominant hand, throwing the last to your other hand. Who gives a damn if one, or all of them breaks? It's riddled with spyware and your big brother would buy you every time a new model is released anyways. Which is... A new phone, a month?

You stopped caring where he gets the money. Obviously he has an assload and can afford to wipe his ass with thousand dollar bills regularly.

It's summer break. One last resort to try and spend your time like a regular ol teenager is taking up a part time summer job. There is a wide variety of jobs to choose from with your qualification. Granted, it's minimum wage and mostly customer service.

If you work as a barista, the cafe or juice bar you'll be working at will LOVE the crap out of you.

Your older brother will visit daily and increase their sales tenfold. Of course, he would pick the drinks that you like doing. It's okay if you fucked up, its only your beloved big brother's order, you can add as much sugar, salt, pepper, cyanide as you want. He will never yell at you, never tell you that you made anything wrong or never even die.

The management will suddenly see a surge in daily customer count. Thanks to big brother's networking. And like him, they also will accept anything you make with no complaint... As per his instructions. You could go full on ridiculous and give them a cup of ice drizzled with strawberry scented dish soap and call it Tutti Frutti, they would still pay for it and take it with them. Though, you're not sure if they ever consumed anything from you.

Without fail, your brother would visit you during every break and hand you your meal along with a kiss on the forehead or the cheek. He would bring you out to eat but you would refuse everytime. You also didn't want his company, which made him pout and whine without fail. But it's nice that he would actually back off after the sixth "no".

However, you know that fucker is watching you from a hidden camera somewhere in the nooks and crannies of whatever breakroom you're resting in.

He would engulf you in a big hug when you get off work, telling you how proud he is of you for getting through another workday like a champ. Praising you for all the hard work and excellent performance, making sure to soothe and comfort you if you happen to come across a rude customer earlier in the day.

You try not to think too much about their fate.

You will be fed, bathed and loved after every shift.

Hell, he would even build up a company from scratch just to hire you. Any position you want, barista, manager, cashier, back office work, janitor- you name it, you get the "job" and get paid a pretty penny. All your other coworkers and customers are probably paid actors and actresses to simulate a "real life working experience" safely. He controls it all, making sure you have just the right amount of drama, the right amount of diplomacy and the right amount of gossiping. You're rarely pushed out of your comfort zone, though. Big brother always has your safety and best interests at heart.

Of course, he will never tell you all of this, to keep the immersion going. You're going to feel sad that you're not exactly experiencing reality. But a bastardization of it. Might as well star in a trashy reality TV show instead, at least, it's much more authentic than whatever your big brother has going on for you.

He doesn't need to even tell you though. You would pick it up easily and quickly especially if you already watched the Truman Show. Don't tell him you did, god help you if he ever gets an inkling that you knew about the existence of the Truman Show. He deemed that movie as demonic propaganda and he needs to lecture some sense into you. If you want out, just say that you're 'bored' and want to do something else. Your big brother will gladly drop everything and do anything in his power to help you "achieve" what you want.

But for the sake of "plot" in this latest installment, you agreed to work in a quaint little bubble tea stall. Where you're the only employee, making drinks for whoever is ordering in front of the shop's decorated window.

Of course, your big brother miraculously happens to work in a nearby skyscraper as one does. It's not that you didn't do your research, you were a hundred percent certain he didn't work in that building, because that fucker never goes to work... At least, physically. Perhaps he does his job, whatever that may be, through online means.

You were planning to use your bicycle to get there that you got yourself with "your" money. He never bought you a car or a bike or anything that would get you around, he saw it as something unnecessary. Why would you need it when big brother is available 24/7 to bring you anywhere?

Actually, you could have gotten yourself a car with the allowance he gives you every day for being cute and adorable, and being patient with his incessant kisses and hugs and cuddles and love and touches and his fucking insanity in general.

But you know that he's going to kick up a massive fuss about driving alone. It was hell to even get your license with him actively trying to sabotage you at every exam- which includes him stooping so low to bribe the examiner to fail you. However, you persevered, and you got that stupid license. All the while, he was lamenting about how you're going to leave him all alone, how you don't need big brother anymore, how society pressured you to grow up too fast and recklessly drive off wherever.

You knew better than to fall for that. Or even entertain it either. Eventually, he gave up trying to guilt trip you into crying, apologizing to him and sobbing in his arms, promising that you won't leave him.

It's not like he DIDN'T kick up a fuss when you said you're using a bicycle either. He began freaking out about your safety, fearing that you might get run over.

Well. You admitted defeat. He's driving you to fucking work and back. It's not worth it to fight this battle.

So you began working in the stall. You had someone train you for your first 2 weeks. Then you were on your own.

The owner, who is also the person who showed you the ropes around there, said business isn't good, but it isn't bad either. So you didn't need to worry about rush hour where hoards of thirsty, sleep deprived office workers trample over each other to get their daily boba fix. It's pretty peaceful working there.

But what you do need to worry about, is your fucking big brother.

He would come and buy a drink, whichever you like to make. It can be the most expensive one, or the cheapest one, the most elaborate one or the simplest one. It's up to you, he will pay for it and happily drink what you made.

You could make him pay for the most expensive drink there is but serve him a cup of lukewarm water, and he would still drink it with glee and fork over his money, telling you to keep the change (which is usually a hundred bucks extra).

Let's say you want to be decent and make him drink that you know he would actually like. Which is anything that tastes generally fruity. And insist that you like making it even though it actually sucks.

He knows. He can tell that you're specially making his favourite drink. And that makes him happy and more obsessed with you if that's even possible at this point.

He would leave a massive tip and a kiss on your forehead.

Although your brother is fucking gross and weird like that, you still love him. Probably a bad idea but you're working so hard, trying your best to earn money honestly just to get him a Christmas gift.

Despite the restraining order between your parents and him, your brother is still invited back home each year to be jolly together. Preparations start a few days before Christmas, where you would see an unusual sight.

All of your immediate family members in the same room, or at least in the same house together without fighting to the death. Your dad's bones are intact, your mom didn't have her insecurities jabbed on for once. They're not exactly on speaking terms, per se.

You woke up one morning to see an... appropriate sized tree for your parent's house, erected in the middle of the living room. Adorned with beautiful ornaments and... are those pictures of you on the ornaments?

Wrapped presents were patiently sitting under the tree. There was a small box with your father's name on its tag, another small one with your mother's name on it. A decent sized box was addressed to your brother, must be a combined present from your parents.

Your shoulders sagged in defeat when you saw your presents took up the perimeter of the tree and even conquered the couch, the back of the couch and under the coffee table. You lost count after gift box #27.

Since everyone is in the kitchen, you quickly place the presents you got for your parents... and your brother.

You panned to the fireplace. Your Christmas stocking is filled so much to the brim that your brother must have added 5 more next to your original one. Your parents' and your brother's stockings are relatively empty. You stuffed them with candies and nuts to make them look less embarrassing.

You straightened your back, that should do it. Your ears perked up when you heard some clamoring in the kitchen. It must be your brother.

You let out a surprised yelp when you're yanked back by a pair of arms that snuck around your waist. "Merry Christmas, my little wittle precious baby!" You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face as he attacked you with a barrage of kisses.

He giggled and squealed as he held you in his arms and twirled you around in glee. You let out a scream of horror as your feet dangle off the ground. He does this every Christmas morning when you were a child to wake you up further and get you excited for the holiday. But you're not a kid anymore, and this is horrifying.

Finally, he stopped and put you down. Your hair is frazzled and the world around you is gyrating. He squeezed you in another hug and gently rocked you side to side.

He immediately unlatched when you said you're hungry. Your big brother gleefully lead you to the dining table, where he fixes up a napkin around your neck like a bib. You asked him why is he tying a ribbon on your hair, he said that you are his Christmas present and he is spoiling himself this year.

Before you could respond, he gave you a brief peck on the head before frolicking away into the kitchen.

Your parents came out of the kitchen, greeting you. They're holding a tray full of steaming hot breakfast foods, no doubt your brother forced them to make it for you. Every Christmas generated a metric ton of leftovers. It's because your brother wanted you to try all of the foods from all over the world. But don't worry though, the leftovers could be so intact that it was given out to neighbors and friends and extended families. Some didn't even need to cook after that, the sheer amount of leftovers was enough to fuel ten more Christmas gatherings.

Croissants, quiches, various types of bread, eggs, ham, bacon even panettone made from scratch. Looking at the spread in front of you is dizzying, your big brother sets down the last plate right between your hands. It's a breakfast plate your brother customized to fit your usual preference, everything is shaped into a heart. He patted your head as he took a seat next to you.

Everyone ate in silence. Everyone was focusing on their own meal except... your brother. Who else would rather stare at you adoringly instead?

He asked if you wanted to go make snowmen outside. Not without proper winter protection, that is. You shrugged, it's not like you could escape your family anyway. Your friends are all busy with their own families, and you don't even have friends. Everything is closed and if you lock yourself in your room, your brother will just pick the fucking lock and force his way in.

Your parents tried making small talk, this earned a feral glare from your brother because it interrupted the connection between the both of you. They paid him no mind and began asking about your life. You tiredly replied to their questions and asked some back yourself, to try to find any sense of normalcy. Your brother would be disengaged with the words coming out of your parents mouth, but highly interested in what you had to say.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully. You offered to help clear the table and do the dishes. Your brother just 'aww'd at you and gave you an appreciative kiss on your forehead. That wasn't an explicit yes, he appreciated the gesture, but he wouldn't allow you to dirty your hands doing chores.

He told you to wait for him to clean up. In the mean time, he gave you permission to open some of the gifts he got you. Frankly, you don't even want to deal with it at all, it's just too much crap. You decided to go through the stockings instead and grab some snacks for yourself.

As expected, he filled it with the most expensive treats and the freshest oranges. These types of foods are usually served in a formal setting, like eating gold crusted caviar at a 10 star restaurant, all dressed up in fancy clothes. But he just... shoved it in a Christmas stocking as if they're mundane chocolates.

Whatever, you shoved some into your pockets.

You turned around to see your brother smiling lovingly at you. He wrapped a puffer jacket around you, his scarf with his cologne on it, a pair of thick mittens on your hands , a winter hat snuggly fitted to your head, and a pair of thick pants he made you wear in front of him.

He picked one of your numerous christmas presents and handed it to you. He clasped his hands together expectedly as he watches you.

Your brother urged you to open it, go wild. Rip the wrapping to shreds. You felt so bad seeing how well wrapped it is and the quality of the wrapping paper is... indescribably good. It doesn't even feel like paper, it feels like silk.

So your carefully dismantled it, trying not to tear anything. You look up to see that your brother is pointing his camera at you, capturing this very precious moment. He encouraged you to go on.

You managed to remove the packaging and revealed a box of expensive winter boots. These are high quality and you would have been the source of envy even though most of your "friends" are also from wealthy families. Not everyone gets to have these.

You appreciate it but... You already had a pair of winter boots, the ones from last year, and the year before that. And the year before that, and a week ago where your brother is freaking out about you potentially having frostbite on your toes.

"It's the latest model! It was released as a part of a Christmas special, it will keep you warm and protect your feet too. It was selling out fast, I'm so glad I managed to get a pair for you, I can't have my sweetiepie sad on Christmas day!" Gushed your brother. You slipped them on.

You can't tell the difference between the one you had last year and the one on your feet now. Maybe some minor difference in it's stylistic design but... they're equally as comfortable.

You thanked your brother and finally gave him what he actually wanted from all this: a hug. He put away his phone and returned the embrace, sinking so deep into your jacket that neither of you can move without stumbling. You know he expected you to show gratitude for all his gifts through his main love language; touch.

It is exhausting.

After that, he brought you out to his private plot of land which he made into a park, complete with swingsets, monkey bars and slides. But these aren't for the public, it's for you. All the equipment are well maintained and look brand new even though you know it's been there for years.

He's not fond of throwing snowballs because it could hurt you. But he allows you to throw as much as you want at him. Even after the stunt you pulled last year.

You packed snow around a rock and hurled at him with all your might, it went straight to his head and his right eye was busted for months. Your brother didn't see that as something wrong, though. Even if you tried to apologize, he said that it was an accident and it was alright, he still loves you dearly and you did 'nothing wrong'. The first thing he did after recovering from his injuries at the hospital is to take you out for hot chocolate and then give you a backrub back home because winter could make your muscles stiff; and hence you must feel strained and sore.

He was still mildly bleeding from his gauze at the time, it was covering at least 70% of his upper head. Your brother was clueless when you asked if he needs any painkiller for his recent injury. He claimed to not feel the pain, but his wincing tells you otherwise. He rewarded you for your concern nonetheless with hugs and kisses and another massage.

You laid yourself on the snowy ground and started making snow angels. Your brother had his camera out and began capturing every moment he has with you.

You felt uncomfortable. And the cold is nipping at your bones even though you're thoroughly insulated by the sophisticated winter gear your brother made you wear. You're ready to go home now.

It shocked your brother and made him a bit desperate. He stammered and stumbled over his words, asking you if you wanted to play on the swing, build a snow man, play on the slides, the merry go around and... throw snowballs at him. Are you cold? He was in the middle of removing his own jacket to layer it onto you, but you stopped him.

You said you're tired. You don't find this fun and you're too old for this.

Maybe you're thirsty? He packed a flask filed with steaming hot chocolate for you- no? You're not thirsty or hungry? Maybe you wanted to use the bathroom-- no? You don't have to go?

He tried listing out all the possible reasons you wanted to go home and all its' solutions. Desperately wanting you to stop growing up so fast.

You got sick and tired of this, you yelled at him at the top of your lungs that you wanted to go home. You then stormed away towards the car, leaving your brother to stand there in silence, his camera capturing your explosive outburst.

Your brother saw you slamming the door angrily as you got in.

He sighed, gulping and hovering his finger over the delete button. But he ultimately decided against erasing the footage, it's still a video of you after all. Your brother assured that he's coming to the car, he wipes a stray tear away as he heads to his vehicle.

The both of you stayed silent as he drove you home.

Once you arrived, you bolted out of the car and ran back in. Locking yourself in the bedroom and barricading the door with random furniture. Hugging your knees close to your chest as you pray that your brother does not go after you by climbing into your windows.

And... he didn't. He left you alone for once. For a few hours too. It gave you the much needed relief, you felt like you could breathe now.

You're starting to feel a bit hungry. And you're hungry enough to be willing to face your older brother. So you began unbarricading, placing your dressers to it's original place.

You carefully unlocked the door, fully expecting him to be waiting outside for you. To your surprise, no one was in the hallway. You could hear some noises downstairs, in the kitchen.

You cautiously went down, the tree is still intact. Nothing is broken and there doesn't seem to be signs of a fight. You released a breath that you didn't know that you were holding, happy to know that you don't need to spend another Christmas at the hospital visiting your badly battered parents.

You whipped your head to the sound of your brother calling your name softly. He's holding a baking tray and a bowl, you can't tell what is in there because he's too tall. He smiled at you as he set it down on the dining table. The tray contained freshly baked parts of a gingerbread house and the bowl contained vanilla frosting.

You scanned the rest of the table. There are numerous small glass bowls containing different types of candy and snacks; from pretzel sticks to colourful chocolate rocks, to real gold leaves. Piping bags with metal tips are present too next to a box of plastic gloves.

Your brother pulled your chair out and invited you to sit there. You did, and he called you a good girl. His good girl. As you put on a pair of plastic gloves, he kissed you on the temple.

You asked where your parents are. He said that they're preparing the food for dinner, which includes ham and a roast turkey. And 15 other dishes.

You quizzed on, asking if there will be more people coming in. He shook his head: no. It's only the four of you. In the meantime, you should enjoy yourself building this gingerbread house. He puts on his own pair of plastic gloves too and began filling the piping bag with icing.

The two of you worked in peace, you opting to decorate the house while he pipes the details on the gingerbread men.

There is only two, a large one and a smaller one. You can guess which represents who.

You noticed the odd choice of attaching the small one to the large one's torso. With strategic use of the candies and frosting, he made it look like the larger gingerbread man is carrying the smaller one on its hip. He piped your defining features onto the baby gingerbread, and piped his features on the larger one.

He noticed you staring, your brother asked if you had a hard time connecting the pieces with frosting and if you needed his help. You said no, you just need a spatula from the kitchen. He tried to get up from his seat, but you pushed him back down, saying that you can get it yourself. He pouted, telling you to be careful and not touch the knives or stoves. Your brother went back to obsessing over the details on his gingerbread men.

You went inside the kitchen and greeted your parents who are busy cooking. You go through the drawers to find a silicone spatula and decided to help pick up some stray food scraps on the floor, throwing them into the bin. But as soon as you step on the pedal and have the lid swing open, you saw two crushed, but perfectly edible, gingerbread men in the garbage bin.

You returned to the dining table to see that your big brother is proudly presenting his work. He said this represents you and him... as if you already haven't figured it out. He said he dreams of having you live with him in a perfect fantasy house, fantasy world where you never have to grow up. And he will always be there by your side, taking care of you till the end of time. You will be pampered and spoiled rotten, you don't have to do anything, you don't have to lift a finger. Your big brother will do everything for you. He would even breathe for you if he could.

You nodded in acknowledgement, too tired to engage with him. You sat back down, continued with the gingerbread house. You failed to notice the flicker of sadness in his eyes, your brother felt so neglected and unwanted these few years. He wished that you were a kid again so the both of you could play together and be happy. The more he tries to win your favour, the more distant you get from him. He is endlessly chasing and you are running non-stop.

The rest of the afternoon went by uneventfully, other than the fact that your big brother rests his head on your shoulder the whole time.

Now, it's time for dinner. You tried helping them bring out the dishes, your brother praised you for being a darling as usual. He lets you have the first bite of the turkey, tearing a small inconspicuous piece of flesh from the bird and hand feeding it to you. It's still warm, juicy and delicious. Maybe it's the feeling of being special that makes it even tastier.

You chew as you brought out the casserole, setting it down on the table.

You looked at the spread. It looks like a buffet at a high end hotel. So many varieties and extremely nutritious.

Your brother fixed your napkin bib for you again and took food for you. Slumping in your seat, you were thinking of protesting but you knew it's easier to just wait for him to carve the best parts of the turkey for you and let the food pile up neatly on your plate first. He returned it to you, all your favourite dishes are on it within sensible portions. But these are still a lot of food for a person.

He didn't care about praying. Your brother wanted you to eat as soon as possible because you must be hungry. And it is absolute sacrilege to let you go hungry.

You insisted that you join your parents in saying grace and you're not that hungry. Your brother looks uncomfortable, still believing in his sick mind that you're starving to the point of emaciation. But since you are adamant in doing such 'pointless' things In his mind, he agrees, only if he leads it.

Everyone bowed their head down and held each others' hands.

Your brother said the shortest, most insincere, laziest grace ever. Once he fulfilled your requirement, he urged you to eat.

You're upset, you felt really angry and you thought he was mocking you instead. So you opted to eat alone in your room, you made it clear that you didn't want anyone in. Especially not your big brother.

He cried out a desperate plea to get you to stay with him. You ignored him and took a couple more of your favourite finger foods. Predicting a fight between your brother and your parents.

You wrenched your arm away from his powerful grip and fled the scene, hurrying up the flight of stairs. Only slowing down when you're out of sight.

As you thought, sounds of verbal fighting started resonating throughout the house. You heard your brother screaming his head off at your parents for being bad influences and poisoning you to hate him. Your parents defended themselves and this only fuelled the fire. You didn't want to be around when your brother started hurling chairs, so you slammed the door as hard as you could. The sudden loud noise did stop the commotion downstairs briefly. But it continued soon after.

You ate alone, in your barricaded room. Wishing that you're born into a 'normal' family, with 'normal' trauma. To a lot of people, you are complaining about a blessing. But you are always feeling alone, the only person facing a problem which everyone sees as a solution.

You scraped the last bits of food with your spoon. Waiting for the sounds of the ambulance or at least for the fighting to quiet down.

You looked at the clock. It's 1 AM. It's been relatively quiet for a while now, they should be finishing up their fight or cleaning up. Time for you to return your plate.

You grunted as you pushed the furniture away from your door which felt like the umpteenth time. You left your room and head downstairs.

Hearing soft sobs from one person, your brother. He's sitting in front of the tree, hugging the present you left for him earlier. The presents addressed to your parents are both missing, presumably being taken back to their room. A blanket is loosely draped around his shoulders.

You took slow steps, unsure if you should comfort him or not. But before you can even decide to chicken out, he spotted you. However, to your surprise, he didn't approach you or tell you to come forward. He gave you a soft assuring smile, before returning his attention to the tree.

You set your plate aside and went by his side. Your brother watched you with puffy eyes full of love, yet it tells you that he has been irreparably hurt by something... or an accumulation of things.

"Thank you..." He whispered, refering to the gift you gave him. It isn't something particularly valuable to you. It's a picture of the entire family in a photo frame. Your brother is going to cherish it, because it is a gift from the person he loves most in the world. But deep down, he secretly wishes that it was a photo of you and him alone.

He still looks extremely upset and distraught. Almost like he is at the brink of a breakdown. Your brother usually verbalizes what he wanted, but he couldn't this time.

You wonder what your parents got for him. You peeked over his shoulder to see that an unopened box containing a plain T-shirt and a pair of socks is carelessly discarded to the corner of the room.

Then, it clicked. Just like you, he felt alone. Maybe you will never understand why he holds you so dear in his heart. Just like how no one will understand him either, his struggles are unique to him with no one to relate.

He destroyed the relationship between himself and your parents. His friends are all superficial. You're grown up and constantly rejecting his love.

Not a single one of you paid attention to him. Yes, it is hard to think of a present for someone who has everything. But they could have put in a bit more effort, the colour of the shirt and socks aren't even in his favourite colour or in the correct size. You could have removed your parents from the photo, your brother will never remove it himself. Because that would mean defacing your gift for him.

And growing up, your parents never saw him as... a person. As someone with feelings and a personality. They only saw his value as a trophy piece to show off to their friends and family. Same goes to his friends now, if it wasn't for his skills and possessions, he would be nothing to anyone.

He had to beg to be loved. Even that isn't reliable, he could give it his all and everyone around him will expect more. Your brother could never dream of being the receiving end of his own affection. It seems like an impossibility to him.

Perhaps he is doing all of these despite getting nothing but disgust and disdain from you is all to protect your innocence, to not put you through what he had to face. It's just that he went about it the wrong way. Or maybe he is just... wrong in the head. Or maybe he was hoping by loving you so much, you would give him the intense type of love he was yearning for his entire life.

Either way, he is alone.

The both of you are now seated in front of the fireplace. You didn't want to open presents, your brother is okay with that. He did not nag you to do it for once. Snuggling closer, the both of you shared a blanket. He still looks unhappy and crestfallen.

You remember you still had the ribbon bow on your head.

He hovered his arms around you as you squirm in his grip. You managed to crawl into his lap and rest your head on his chest. He lets out a chuckle and some sniffles, clamping his arms back down around you.

You reminded him of one last gift. Your brother is confused until he saw your ribbon.

From that moment on, he burst into tears of joy. He found you so unbearably adorable, so unbearably cute that his heart couldn't take it. An excited squeak escaped his lips as he held you even tighter. Peppering kisses all over your face, neck and head.

He started blabbering in baby talk, calling you every pet name and listing out everything he loved about his 'gift'. Repeating that this is the best gift he ever received and this is all he ever wanted. You are all he ever wanted. Praising that you remembered what he loves.

You hope that he could feel a little less lonely tonight. You can't peer into his head and know exactly what is going on inside. But you knew, he was happy.

Your breathing calmed him down and he closed his eyes, nuzzling against your neck. The collar of your shirt wet from his tears and your arms are secure around him. Your brother mumbled "I love you." as he adjusted you on his lap. Pressing your form against his, enjoying the heat that the both of you shared. Wishing that this moment will never end and you will never part from him.

You realized another thing too as he strokes your hair.

Your older brother is the only person in the world who harbors true, undying, unconditional love for you.

Even though he has his flaws, there will be no one else like him. Ever.

So you closed your eyes and melt into him. Just like before, you felt safe.

The both of you fell alseep in front of the hearth, surrounded by gifts, mostly unopened ones. Snowflakes floating down from the skies and landing delicately at the edge of the roof. Feeling unburdened and content in the living room.

Merry Christmas.

[dawnoftime22]

"...and it just did."

| W.M ( -> N.R)

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 5

Chapter Warnings: A very emotionally packed chapter, relationship problems, cheating, arguing, anxiety, overthinking, andd...just be prepared.

Summary: The truth unfolds itself easily on a special day.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 8.7k (...oops)

Category: Angst.

A/N: this chapter has been eeeeverywhere with me. I wrote it in the car, at work, in my bedroom, and even at a hotel room. but, I hope you all enjoy<3 it's a whole lot, so it was quite difficult to finish, but february's over and I have more free time again!

also theres a playlist for this series out now :] in case you need something to listen to while reading. be careful while scrolling the songs to avoid just bits of teensy spoilers<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 10/01/2024, 12:16 PM |

| Finished on 05/03/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

"What is there to say?"

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

You drag your feet across the wooden floorboards, making your way towards the kitchen. Here it is again, the same routine. But yet this time, you see a sticky note left on the marble counter, illuminated by a dim overhead lighting.

You furrow your eyebrows, but go over to read it anyway, the bright color a big difference to the white counter. 'might not be home until tomorrow,' was written on the piece of paper. Your heart didn't drop as much anymore. Your shoulders only droop a little, as if just a teensy bit more weight had been added.

A quiet breath leaves your mouth. Your hand picks up the sticky note and scraps it up within your palms, throwing it off to a nearby trashcan in the kitchen. Who else needed to read it anyway? It was only for you. Only for you.

You shook your head of the remaining thoughts you had of her, but she couldn't quite leave your mind at least once. Always there. Always lingering. As if you had been cursed. But in honest truth, the only curse you had upon you was the spell of love.

Today was a special day. Key word on the was. Some type of hope swirling in your heart maybe had you looking forward to this day, but all of it had just gone down along with the piece of paper in the trash. Your eyes also flicker to it once more, seeing the many other colored paper sitting scrunched up with the one from just now. At least she had the decency to still leave notes.

But, today was, of course...your birthday. And out of all the people, your favorite person was certainly not present. Maybe she had forgotten, you thought. Maybe she just didn't care enough this year...no, how could she?

You snap yourself out, having stared off at the sunlight shining in through the windows. You go to the fridge to see what was still in there. A bitten sandwich from last night, and some leftover chickens, but your lip forms a line and you close it, your hand dropping off to your pocket to retrieve your phone.

It was currently 9:45 AM, the digits frozen still on the same numbers until the full sixty seconds passes by. Your mind was in a haze, but your stomach was empty and it urged you to find some food. Were you just going to go out by yourself? Your body seemed to stop you from even going to the living room. Take-out was an option, but instead you simply laid your phone down on the counter, it making a small noise, the textures clashing.

You put your head in your hands, covering up your face and sliding your fingers across your skin, your palm cupping your own cheeks as a way to get a grip of yourself.

Your phone came up with a notification of your calendar, getting out with a reminder of your birthday. What great timing. You clear it off your screen and unlock your phone, roaming the apps.

Just as you were about to push yourself off the counter and grab the last of the food in the fridge, your screen changes without you touching anything. The contact name came up with...Carol?

Your face relaxes a bit and your thumb hesitantly goes to pick it up rather than tap on the red button, the ringing going away. The phone goes along with your hand when you put it against your ear.

"Hey Carol." You say casually, trying your best not to sound too questionable, as it wasn't usual that she'd call you. You hear some distinct voices whispering in the background of her side, one sounding like a young kid.

"Hey, just wanted to call and um...check in on you?" Her voice ended up sounding questionable instead, and your face goes into a confused reaction, although a smile growing on your lips. You let out a small chuckle, your eyes roaming the space of the room as you thought of your words.

"'Check in on me?' Come on, you rarely do that." Your hand goes to grab a nearby notebook that's been left on the counter, saved for recipes. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say happy birthday to you. Maria reminded me and she and Monica got me to...call you." You assume she had a small pause in her sentence because she was looking over at the other two people in the room with her, which was who you had heard earlier.

"That's nice of her. And thank you." The pages of the book was soft against your hands, your fingers tracing and fiddling with some as you smiled softly at the thought of Maria scolding Carol for having forgotten.

"Well that, or, I would probably not have any pancakes for myself right about now." She says, her mouth nearly sounding like it was full. You'd guessed it was.

"Even though you were threatened to wish me, thank you." You add on, laughing gently as you did. There was a page you landed on in the notebook with a cookie recipe. One, specifically where you and Wanda had made together, having shared a wonderful memory that day.

You could feel your heart beat within your chest, the pace going quicker as your eyes looked over the words written on the paper that was accompanied with smiley faces and hearts here and there.

The smile on your face had definitely faltered. You take in a deep breath, letting it out once you let yourself close the book. Carol's voice snaps you back to reality, having remembered you were talking with her.

"I'm kidding, I would've called you up either way. Really though, how are you?" Your teeth sank down on your bottom lip, probably enough to puncture the skin or leave a small mark, but you let it go once you talked.

"I'm...fine. Other than sitting in my house alone not knowing what to do than sulk in bed or contemplating my life choices." With that answer, the blonde definitely knew something wasn't entirely right. She stays quiet for a while, perhaps thinking.

"Do you wanna go out and hang at the bar? We can do some karaoke if you want that as a birthday present." She offers, and the attempt makes you smile weakly. She never really knew what to do for your birthday, not being the type to do birthdays more than just a simple wish to them. But for you, she'd offer to hang out, which is what you love to do most of the time.

"Sorry, but I don't really feel like partying or anything right about now. Well, tempting, but, I just wanna relax." You say quietly, sliding the recipe book back to its original place.

"Okay, then..." Carol trails off as her mind tries to come up with some more ideas. You were about to think she was going to just hang up sooner or later, but then you hear her voice continue with a more interesting take.

"There's the mall." You raise your eyebrows. She couldn't see you with you being over the phone, but she just knew you were probably surprised. And you were.

"And what would we do there?" You ask, your mind unable to conjure up the slightest of an imagination of going to the mall with her in a casual situation.

"Well, we could grab some ice cream, buy some things, go to the arcade, go...I don't know." She suggests, just nearly giving up. She wasn't good at this type of stuff really, she's simply basing it off of the times she and Monica hangs out together. You could at least picture the straight line her mouth forms when she finished her sentence, and you had to resist a laugh.

"Ice cream does sound really good." Your mind opened a little with the simple thought of ice cream. Even though the comfort of your bed and the couch seemed nicer, it's not a lot of times she ends up inviting you to hang out like this anyway.

"The mall it is." The blonde says, and you can hear some clatter over the phone. She had finished her pancakes, you supposed.

"Am I driving or...?" You trail off, fiddling around with your fingers and sliding them against the marble counter, the coldness a difference to the sunlight coming from the window.

"I'll pick you up." You then hear the sound of keys, and you couldn't back out anymore. She was driving to your house to grab you, and it'd be impolite to cancel.

"Okay." You say under a breath, feeling heavier with every second that goes by. The guilt and anxiety was eating you up, but the date on the calendar just next to the recipe book had your mind getting out of the thoughts.

"I'll be there in 10. Please don't be glued to your bed when I arrive," She said, to which you let out a quiet chuckle. You couldn't really tell if it was in a stern way or a soft way, but it definitely pushed you a little more to get up and change your clothes.

"I won't. See you here." You say gently and the end tone sounds out, making you pull your phone away from your ear.

With that decided, you push yourself off the counter, slowly going off to the bedroom. The closet opens easily, revealing the same clothes you see every day. You shuffle through some of the hanged shirts, looking at what to wear.

Soon enough, you pull one out. It easily slides off, brushing against the many other shirts within the closet. Your eyes don't linger on the other ones that weren't yours, and you close the door after grabbing everything else.

Later on, you get finished up with changing your clothes, and now you were only waiting for Carol to arrive. There was something that prickled within your heart, like a roses stem with thorns, a worry that maybe she changed her mind and she actually didn't want to hang out with you. Maybe she was only doing it out of sympathy? But that can't be true. What about all the times she's driven you back home when you got a little too many drinks?

...You take a deep breath and turn away from the wall you were staring off into like it was the abyss. Instead your hands checked that you had everything on you, like your phone, keys, and your watch.

Then, the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house made you look up, your eyes carefully watching the windows. You see a Nissan outside, and it was obvious it was Carol arriving.

Quickly, you got off the couch while your phone made sound, definitely a text message from her that she's arrived. You open the front door, going outside. Her blonde hair could be seen clearly through the car windows, confirming the person in your head.

You make your way to the car, opening the front passenger door. "Hey," you say gently, going in and and closing the door along with you.

"Hey." your greetings were simple, a usual thing to happen. Carol glanced at you while you buckled in, giving you a small smile before starting to slowly position the car back to the roads.

The car had some old soft rock playing, filling up the quietness. It also had you already moving just a little to the beats, staring out the window as she drove you both to the mall. She's always had good playlists. Sometimes you'd even have an urge to ask her to give you some of her cds.

"So, what are you aiming to steal my money for today?" She jokes after a song, her eyes focused on the roads. You let out a small chuckle, looking over to her.

"I'm not letting you spend your money on me for something that isn't a drink." You shake your head, fiddling around with your fingers in your lap. The blonde notices it when her eyes flicker over to you for a second before returning to the roads.

"It's your birthday, Y/N. You have to have a little fun. Let loose," she says, and you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to her. The last two words were new, at least when it comes out of her mouth.

"Maria's words, not mine." she quickly stated, making a smile grow on your face. You stop fiddling with your fingers and instead intertwine them with each other, your gaze going back to the window.

"Come on, any ideas?" The car stops at a red light, and she looks over to you. You stayed quiet in thought, although nothing much came up. She sees only the side of your head until you made your decision.

"We'll do yours," you say, having unable to think of anything. Your mind was clouded over. Honestly, a part of your body just wanted to lie in bed hopelessly the whole day, but something else pulled you.

"Then it's settled," she nods, the steering wheel turning with her hand as she made a right. You think over her words on the phone call earlier, 'Ice cream, buy some things, arcade', and you start to get just a bit more excited.

"Ice cream first?" You ask, looking to her with hope. She furrows her eyebrows and makes a face to you, and your lip forms a tight line, like a child asking for something and getting scared of the answer.

"Of course ice cream goes first." The car goes forwards once more, the light having turned green. You cheer quietly, and she gently shakes her head at your antics. At least she got you to release the emotional tension you had in your body. Even if just a little.

The rest of the car ride consisted of singing and dancing, the conversations being light. The weight on your shoulders got lifted up just a little bit more. When you were about to arrive and she was going to park, 'Please Mr. Postman' started playing and your face brightened at the intro.

She raised her eyebrows at your quick happiness at the simple song, but smiled and laughed at how fast you got into singing it. Really, it's always been a main song for whenever you hanged out, but it's been so long since she saw you sing it, she got surprised. Soon enough though, she sang with you, the two of you moving in your seats to the words.

When the song ends, she turns off the engine and both of you get out the car. The parking lot wasn't all that filled up, so it was a chance there weren't many people in the mall.

She puts on her cap and walks to the entrance with you behind her, the noise of crows and other birds made sound, echoing from somewhere afar as you made your way to the sliding doors.

The cold air of the mall quickly greeted you like a slap of reality in the face, like waking yourself up with a cold shower after laying in bed for too, too long. A way to make you feel more alive.

The ice cream shop wasn't far, and with how little amount of people were here, the two of you got to go to the counter right when you arrive to order your preferred flavour.

Your eyes watch the ice cream get put on the cone, and you do a little dance when your hand got ahold of it, while Carol was giving her money to the cashier of the total cost.

The cashier smiles at the two of you and says their 'thank you', making you smile back before turning around, Carol easily catching up with you from your slow walking.

The two of you walk and enjoy your ice cream, the coldness definitely making you more free feeling. There were clothing stores, shoe stores, little snack shops, and every other thing you could ever imagine. You passed by each one though, but you did point out some cool looking things here and there to Carol.

Soon enough, you come upon a pet shop and your eyes widen, your lips matching with a smile. You walk towards it, wanting to look at all the animals. Carol had to walk faster so she didn't lose you.

There were parrots, cats, dogs, hamsters, fishes, bunnies, and even some lizards. Your mouth was agape as you stared at some of them, but you walk over to the cats.

"Aw, look!" You point at an orange cat, who's sitting patiently with it's tail smoothly flicking back and forth as it watched people pass by.

Carol was looking at the dogs until you called, making her go over to you to see what you were melted at. As if you hadn't already from the other little animals.

"This one is so cute." You lean forward and capture the attention of the cat, making it stand up and walk closer to you.

Carol's head tilted slightly and her eyes squinted as she inspected the info of the cat. The name, the breed, the date and place of birth... "...Goose. Huh."

"I want to take it home." You blurt out as you let the cat follow your hand around, and its head moves here and there instead of its body. It was a playful cat, a paw going up here and there to reach out to you.

"You should get it if you love it that much." Carol says, with her usual deadpan voice that you honestly find amusing. Although, for this, your face turns deadpanned instead and you stare at her, making her raise your eyebrows at you. It was nearly a staredown.

"Danvers, I cannot take care of a cat...let alone myself." You gesture to the cat, and it looked at you questionably. Your shoulders slump a little at the last words of your sentence, and Carol frowns a little.

"I'm sure it'll be able to help you cope or something." Really, she was thinking in her head of surprising it to you as a birthday present for later tonight when she sends you home.

"Why don't you get it? I think Monica would go crazy." You glance back at her, and she purses her lips, staring at the cat. It was the most vibrant color of all the other cats.

"And Maria would go crazier." She said, turning to you for a second but then going back to the entrance of the shop instead, perhaps making her escape from you flipping the table to her.

"You can convince her." You say, the volume of your voice going up a little considering she's farther away. You take a quick glance back at the cat, hesitating to leave, but going away to catch up to the blonde.

"No, now, we are going to the arcade." You laugh when you hear her stern voice, although something in you knew she had a thought about getting it.

You looked around as you walked, seeing the arcade not far away now, the place lit up by machines and screens. But something caught your eye and made you look twice.

Were you dreaming? Well...having a nightmare? You felt like so. Your body definitely didn't react in a good way. Honestly, your heart felt like you were about to have a heart attack with how fast it was beating.

Carol's hat made shade for her face from the sun coming through the mall's glass roof as she walked. She stops along with you when she noticed, confusion filling her face at the sudden stop.

When she follows your eyes to where you were looking though, immediately her eyes widen and her face was in complete shock just as yours were.

A brunette, green eyes...green jacket...

It couldn't have been.

You look closer on the face, and it was. And her hand was not swinging by itself as she walked.

It wasn't with your hand either, because you were plenty of feet away from her.

It was with someone else. Something in the back of your mind felt like they were familiar, although you couldn't even dare focus on that.

Your whole day-- well, your whole world fell apart right then and there. Just like that.

You can feel your heart beating up to your ears, and it felt like time stopped. And not in the good way. Oh, you wish. You wish it was the time you saw her green eyes staring back at you and the whole world only felt like it held the two of you. But not anymore.

Maybe it was the numbing adrenaline rush of the shock coming through, but you take in a deep breath, ripping your gaze away. You couldn't bare to look at the sight anymore.

You clench your jaw, your hand gripping itself in a fist. Your eyes pooled with tears and Carol looked at you, her own misery at finding out the truth obvious on her face, although she was mostly worried about you.

"You know what? Maybe we can...do this another day." You say, trying your best to not let your voice shake entirely, but it did falter.

"You don't wanna--" She was about to suggest trying to distract yourself with the arcade, but at the same time, nothing could make you feel better after seeing such a thing.

"Just take me home." Your mouth moved quickly and you spoke quietly, your eyes flicking back to the spot where she was walking, but she was out of sights already.

You turn around and walk fast, not wanting to linger anymore. Carol walks with you. There was nothing said as you made your way out and to the car. The lovely sounds of the birds chirping now fell on deaf ears as your legs kept you moving.

The car door opens easily with the pull of your hand, and you get in, but you were careful to not slam the door. Carol gets in after you, and turns on the engine.

Her eyes go over to you. You already had your seatbelt on and had settled in your seat, staring out the window. She was about to say something, but she held her tongue, not wanting to make matters worse.

And what would anyone have to say in this anyway? Your lover left you, replaced you with someone else, and broke your heart. 'It will get better'? The only path to take was to go through the pain and that was it. Until you somehow get back up again.

The music starts up once more, and it didn't make you happy as much anymore. You couldn't even focus on it if you tried. You were trying to blink away the tears and ignore the way your throat was swelling up on the inside.

Carol drives you back home safely, keeping her eyes on you here and there. The ride was quiet other than the music, but it was obvious the tension was high.

There were questions unsaid, many going around in your head, but you didn't wanna trouble her with all of them, and she probably wouldn't know what to answer them with anyway.

Soon enough, you arrive back to your house, and you gently unbuckle your seatbelt. At the corner of your eyes, your tears were starting to seep out, just a little.

Carol makes sure she says something before she regrets just being silent, "Hey," she said quietly, and you look at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. It was the softest you've heard her voice yet.

"I'm always here, if you need me," she says. She knows it won't be much, but it needed to get out of her head. You nod, and sniffle, trying your best to not cry just yet.

You don't say anything back. If you did, you would've broken right there. Instead, you pull on the car handle and open the door, getting out.

Carol watches you as you leave, and she makes sure you get into your house safely before getting out the driveway.

You close the front door of the house, locking it, and freezing in your tracks, taking in a sharp breath before letting it out as a sigh. You nearly hoped it didn't happen, that you would only do that and just wake up from sleeping right now.

But then you let out a sob and lean back on the closed door. You hide your face in your hands, closing your eyes as you started crying, and your chest wracks with broken sobs.

How could she do such a thing? Did she not love you? Were you simply not enough? Too much? You couldn't stop yourself with the questions roaming your head, overthinking everything as you go. The kindest soul with the warmest heart, now broken into a tiny million pieces just because someone couldn't talk about their feelings. Yet you seem to always find a way to blame yourself for every situation.

Sure, maybe even if she did talk to you, your heart would still break, but would it have felt like this? Would it have felt like your lungs were going to collapse from your cries?

You sniffle, and try your best to steady your breathing, but you couldn't, so you just let it do whatever it wants. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, but the tears keep flowing, so it barely did much.

Fatiguely, with a heavy body, you made your way to the kitchen. You wanted to go to the bedroom, but it was so far, and everything in there would only make your head spin even more. The couch was a choice, but your eyes linger on that recipe book you had looked through this morning.

Your hand twitches to grab it, but you bite your tongue and instead grip the counter, letting yourself slide down on the kitchen floor. You clutch your legs and curl up. The grip your hands held with the fabric of your jeans were enough to probably rip them.

You still had hiccups leaving your mouth, tears leaving your eyes, and you were definitely about to sob once more. The kitchen tiles blurred from your vision getting clouded with tears.

Your hands clumsily reaches in your pocket to grab your phone, and you somehow made it to your homescreen.

The phone was set down on the floor, your hands shaking as your tears rolled down to your chin and dropped down to stain your shirt.

You look up, trying to gather yourself up, but of course you couldn't. Your body needed to let the emotions out, especially after such a situation.

For a few more long minutes, you sat helplessly on the kitchen floor, your breaths going with their own minds instead of your own. You take a few deep breaths, your legs splayed out in front of you before you sniffle and take one last deep breath.

You sat up a little more properly with the little energy you have, and slide your phone just a bit closer to yourself, your fingers gliding across the screen as you opened your calls app, and hovered your finger over the contact name.

You tap on it, trying your best to recollect yourself before she picks up. Your teeth bites down on your bottom lip, every tone of the calling sound making your heart beat faster.

It ends, and her voice comes through.

"Hello?" There's the soft voice. The gentle, soothing voice that lured you into falling in love.

"Wanda." Your voice nearly faltered, but it kept a little of it's stern tone. Your hand slid down to the kitchen floor, the texture keeping your emotions steady, at least enough for a couple minutes.

"Hey, what's up? Did you see my note?" She asks. She's been lying to your face all this time and you didn't even know it. How blind were you?

"Do you know what day it is today?" You ask, ignoring her own question. You sounded so calm in your own anger you honestly nearly even scared yourself.

"No...what?" She was confused, and you could imagine the innocent act of a face she made.

"It's my birthday." You put simply.

"Oh..." that was all that sounded on the phone, and you knew the call didn't get cut off. She just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay Y/N, I...forgot." She says slowly, and it was obvious she was trying to tread her tracks carefully.

"I can come back tonight, I promise." You almost didn't want her to, but you needed to talk it out. You didn't say anything else, not wanting to talk about everything else over the phone.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You whisper, your voice breaking at the end. You were sure she noticed it, but you'd want her to anyway.

You ended the call, tapping on the red button. That wasn't the end of it yet, of course, but for now, your hand only rests on the floor, your body falling limp against the cabinet.

She calls, but you don't hear it. The phone rings, on, and on.

You clench your jaw, tears filling up in your eyes once more. Your hand weakly silences your phone, and for the next couple more minutes, you lay crying, until your throat was dry and your muscles ached from sitting on the floor.

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

The sun had gone down by now, and the moon came out of hiding.

You were no longer on the kitchen floor, but you were on the couch, curled up like a cat. You haven't done anything but cry ever since you got home. Only right now, your tears had dried, staining your cheeks

You hear the front door unlock, and you feel it coming, the moment you've been dreading.

The brunette appears from behind the door, closing it as she went in the house. Her eyes roamed the place, and eventually, it lands on you.

She lets out a sigh of relief when she realized you were still here. You let out a heavy sigh as you sat up properly.

She heard it. Even with the distance, the quietness of the room captured it. Her heart beated harder in her chest.

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry." She pleads as she makes her way to the couch, having carelessly kicked her shoes off, leaving one tilted on its side. You haven't even said anything yet, and you almost feel sorry yourself.

"Hey,"-- You were sitting right beside the armrest, so, she leans over and gently puts her hand on your cheek. --"I love you. I'm sorry."

You gently push away her hand, turning to look at her with your jaw clenching. She can see the anger in your eyes and it had her giving you a little space.

"Do you?" You say, your head moving slightly, and she notices the way the corner of your eyes seemed a little red. You weren't even looking at her. That was only the second part of the situation.

"Yes!" She says her eyebrows furrowed. She raises her hands in exaggeration before moving one up to her hair, sliding it back as she let out a breath. "...Why is that difficult to understand?"

"Well, maybe because you didn't even say anything when I said it to you just a few days ago!" Her mouth opens, and you assumed she was about to argue that she was drunk during that time, but she lets out a scoff, and that's even worse.

"You're pissed off about that too?" She seemed mad, and you nearly regret even blurting out the sentence.

You close your eyes with your hands, just wanting this to end even though it's just started and just barely scratched surface of what you need to talk about...or argue. You hoped it was the first one.

"Of course I am, Wanda! Where have you been?" You try your best to keep calm, but your voice was laced with anger. Hers though, was higher volume than yours.

"At work!" She walks around to the front of the couch, and you slide your hand down your face. Her face looked so believable, but you knew it wasn't the truth. You saw it with your own eyes.

"Bullshit." You whispered, looking at her with tired eyes. She gets confused and sits down on the couch, her eyes focused on you. You shift your position.

"What? I'm not ly--..." Her voice was a little high of a volume, and she doesn't finish her sentence when she hears you take in a shaky breath.

"...I...saw you." You said quietly, and Wanda, having been caught up in trying to make you believe her had to go quiet in thought of what exactly you mean.

She swallows down a lump in her throat, her eyes catching yours.

"Saw me?" She asked, her voice reducing down to almost the same volume as yours.

"You...were with someone else." You were shaking and your breath was trembling. You willed everything in your body not to sob while trying to get the rest of the sentences out. Her eyes widened at your words, and that was it.

"And I know it's not another person, because I saw your face." You point your finger to her, gently pushing on her chest with it to enunciate your words. Gently. You were never the type to lash out or be rough even when you were angry.

She goes quiet. Both pairs of your eyes were welling up with tears, that much was obvious. Any other words she's had before had died in her throat.

You see a tear rolling down her cheek from the side, and you held your hands back from wiping it off.

She looks at you, guilt swimming in her eyes, and she takes a shaky breath in before letting it go.

"...There's really..." She looks away from you, unable to even stare back at you. Your heart felt heavier than you knew it could.

"...nothing I could say or do to make you feel better." She said tearfully, her lips going down as she thought of her next words. She swallows her collected saliva again. That hit you like a million little glass pieces piercing through every part of your living, loving soul.

There really was not much she could reason with other than the fact that it had been true. She's fallen out of love with you, but even she didn't want to admit it.

"I've been with someone else. I...wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how." She admitted with her shoulders going up at her last words. There it was. The truth coming straight out of her mouth. Your lips nearly trembled, but your teeth sank down on it.

"How...long?" You ask, and you almost didn't want to know, but for the sake of closure, you urged on. She stays quiet, her own hands gripping the couch.

"How long, Wanda?" You pressed. Was it a month ago? It couldn't have been longer than that.

"Only after eight months of us moving here." It was before you even had your break. You made the math quickly in your head. You moved in a little more than a year ago, so it's been...six months?

You had been in this devouring hole for six months, and you hadn't even realized it. And she didn't tell you or break up with you. Instead she requested a break. No wonder your hope had died to sparks and to nothingness.

"What?" You whispered under your quivering breath, your head tilting in disbelief as your eyes spilled out in silent tears.

"Wanda." You say her name softly. She looked down in her lap as you let out another breath that nearly sounded like a sob. She sniffles, and you know the both of your hearts are breaking.

"Why?" You ask, although it was more of a thought from your head that spewed out unintentionally rather than a logical question. She couldn't answer. She didn't have an answer herself. It just happened. That's how it always is.

"...I thought you loved me." Your voice was small, as if speaking any louder would make the entire universe disappear in fear, just like your love had.

"I did! Or, I do!! I don't know!!!" She blurts out, not being able to decide which one. Her body had deflated at the high chance of losing you tonight.

"So you fell out of love with me completely?" Your eyes watch her carefully, and just for a vivid moment, she hesitantly, just barely nods.

"And you didn't think to just...break it off." You whisper, although it was more of a sentence to yourself. But she heard it anyway. It was obvious what you were pointing towards in your sentence. She sighs. She knows she's taken a step she couldn't take back.

Really, how can someone bring theirselves to having a full conversation about falling out of love? It's a difficult thing to do. Sure, you'd be heartbroken either way, or somehow you would have been able to work it out, but you supposed something else in you just wished you hadn't suffered all those months hoping for absolutely...nothing.

The two of you sit in the silence of what you'd think is death, not knowing what exactly to do with it all. The love you once had was gone. Or at least...hers.

Something spins around in your head. It's been spinning for ages since she had called to take a break, and you had hoped you never had to say it, but what else was there? You could start over, but this love had already started over before. Or had tried to. Technically it was both. This was the end of the road.

"...It's over." You whisper out into the room, and Wanda finally glanced up at you, her face full of heartbreak. Even though she probably saw it coming. You've seen that look before, and your stomach was about to collapse at even a second of it. You kept the eye contact though, needing to fully close this.

In a way, you searched her eyes, for some reason, still searching for anything that once was. But there wasn't anything but hopeless desperation.

"No...no please, I need you." She says, taking breaths in between as she cried. You hated seeing her like this. But you hated going in circles just as much.

"If you really did, then you wouldn't have done such a thing." She had nothing else to say to that. It had been your breaking point. You averted your gaze and stood up, hesitating for a moment, but eventually going off to the bedroom as she sat there in the consequences of her actions.

You walk into the room and close the door, locking it right after. You gently lean your head against the door, while silent tears freely move down your skin. The supply of water in your body was definitely infinite for today. A part of you wanted to laugh at the mere thought, and just to cope, but you were too tired to even do so.

You take in a breath, looking up to the ceiling as you felt your throat swell up, but you try your best to be quiet. You'd hate for her to hear you sob in the other room. She might be doing the same thing herself. You squeeze your eyes shut for a short time, wishing for it all to just stop.

And technically it's about to.

Gently, you push off the bedroom door and your legs take you to the front of your closet. The next move was obvious.

Your hands clenched theirselves as your eyes stare at the closet doors. You take a look around the room, taking in the space with your eyes lingering on some parts. The book Wanda hasn't finished reading. She stopped reading it ever since she started to disappear. You should have seen the signs.

The little teddy bear she got, the daisies you got her in the corner of the room, the DVDs she has in the TV stand, the music collection you have next to it.

You rip your gaze away and let your hands open the closet doors. A travel bag and a luggage bag was just under the hanged clothes, sitting within a compartment.

With trembling hands, you slide both out, putting them on the bed and unzipping them. It was the same bags you used to move into the house.

You grab some of the clothes you once shuffled through just earlier this morning, making sure to remember which ones are Wanda's, and not yours.

They were placed into the bags, and you stared at the folded shirts. They looked wrong. You throw your head back with a sigh, frustrated. The bed dips when you sat on it, the bags moving along just a little with it.

What are you thinking? The promise to stay, to fight through it all, it had all fallen apart. The one person you didn't leave after just a few months, and yet here you are. Packing. You let your body fall down completely on the mattress, legs dangling while you stared at the ceiling.

How many times have you stared up there? You don't even want to know. Before you lost all motivation and your emotions ran slow, you slowly prop yourself up to your arms and got back up. If you stopped now, you won't be gone in the morning.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, everything else you need and all the essentials. The last of it gets stored in the empty parts, and with the quiet sound of the zipper zipping, it was done.

With a relieved sigh that you could now simply lay on the pillows, your arms splayed out, your body giving up the last of its energy. You definitely couldn't get up anymore to do anything else.

This was the last night you were sleeping in this bed.

The crickets couldn't be any more louder with filling up the silence. You hated it. It felt too short, but all at the same time, it feels like it's gone on for too long.

Your vision faded into black as your mind stayed loud, up until it crept into your dreams. She slept on the couch that night.

In the morning, you woke up heavy and go through everything as if you didn't even sleep. Not even a cold shower helped you. Honestly, it might have just helped numbing the pain in your chest instead. You gather your items, gripping your bags tightly.

What if you just drop them and simply isolate yourself in the room? No. You shook your head, walking over to the door.

Your hand remains on the cold door knob for a short while, and you almost stay long enough to have it warmed up from your skin. It gets twisted though, and you open it.

If not for the sleeping figure on the couch, it would have been an empty room. You walk out to the front door with your eyes lingering on her.

Maybe her love was too good for you anyway. You just couldn't give her enough. Or too much. It didn't even make sense anymore. There was no in between your heart and mind could agree on. Even you didn't know what you were thinking.

Just as you click open the lock and went to open the front door, she slowly awakes. The shuffling makes you turn to look at her. You catch the realization and sadness in her eyes when you locked sights. Damn the loud clicks and creaking sounds of the doors.

"Where are you going?" She asks, but it was more of a question, than her wanting to stop you.

"Somewhere that isn't here." You say quietly, like a secret thats not meant to be said. She stares off into a space in the room, lost in thought.

"I really am sorry." You hold your breath a little longer, waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't.

There wasn't anything possible to heal the broken love you held. Maybe if she gave in, but her hands had been touched by someone else and her lips...perhaps had met another's.

"I love you." You whispered impulsively, although quiet and quick, it made sound to reach her ears nonetheless.

But yet, she was silent.

You stare at her for a second more, and few seconds too long to say you're determined in leaving. She wasn't looking at you.

You take a step to turn, and the door slides open with the pull of your hand.

You take another, then when you're outside and the door closes gently, the quietness of it all consumed you.

You check your belongings, you had your bags, your watch, your phone. You have everything except for her.

You check your last pocket, and in it were the keys to the house. You slide it off and it clinks, a familiar sound that you hated made your heart skip a beat every time you heard it.

You leave it off somewhere at the front of the house, and you hope you don't remember where you put it.

It all blurred together as you went to your car, turned on the engine and drove off. Of course you had a plan in mind. You've thought about it a hundred times, but you never thought you'd go with it.

The car arrives to a stop, near the place of your favorite cafe. But you aren't going out. You just needed to drive away from the house.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath and slammed your fist on the steering wheel, and somehow your hand had slid down to the horn, making you bump into it and the car beeped loudly. You jumped, and looked around alertedly, but no one was there. The sidewalks were empty.

You relievedly let out the breath you were holding once you made sure you were in the clear. Thankfully, it wasn't lunchtime or the weekend.

"God," the word comes out under your breath as you shook your head. The thoughts in your head were harsh, and your shoulders slumped at it.

"How could I have ever possibly thought I was actually the one?" You whisper to yourself, staring at the logo of the car, still somehow shiny, just sitting there in between the controls even from how much you've driven the car.

You grip the steering wheel, but then you notice your arms being covered in a certain cloth. One all too familiar, one you chose in instinct in the morning. You look down on the sweatshirt you're wearing, and it was obvious. It was Wanda's.

You clench your jaw and your hands move to peel it off yourself, the sweatshirt turning into a jumbled up piece of clothing that was inside-out. You didn't even want to look at it, so you threw it to the backseats. You'll deal with it later.

Soon, you went to grab your phone, your hand shaking as you turned on your phone, trying your best to find a certain contact. You hold the device tighter, trying to stop the shaking. But you couldn't.

When you found it, you were hesitant to tap on it, your mind loud of everything bad that could happen. But it was Kate. You take in a shaky breath and tapped on the call button, exhaling your breath as you put your phone to your ear.

"Hello?" Her voice comes out gently. The kinder tone almost makes you let out a breath of relief. Your shoulders relax only a little though.

"Kate?" You ask in a whisper, fiddling a little with your steering wheel and tracing the round shape, the texture brushing the skin of your fingers.

"Hey, what's up?" It was still gentle, but there was a hint of concern in it. She can already tell something was wrong even though you barely said anything.

"Um...I..." Your breath was shaky, and she could hear it. On the other side of the phone, Kate was frowning, but she stayed quiet as she gave you time to get your words out.

You were nibbling your bottom lip as you thought about how to talk about your situation, and in the midst of the moment-- "...Wanda and I broke up," you spew out the words, your mouth not even caring to follow your mind anymore.

"What? What happened?" She was certainly shocked, and you look out the window, trying to distract yourself while at the same time speaking to Kate.

"She was with someone else," you say. The florist you once saw a few months ago came out of his store, greeting a customer outside. It was like you were watching a scene you were once in, in another person's view.

"Oh, shit." She swore out unintentionally, the surprise taking over her mouth. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, and you can imagine her blinking to get ahold of herself. It almost made you let out a soft chuckle.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. God, I could never imagine Wanda would have done that." Kate said quietly. She adored your relationship together, that much was true, but she also saw the parts of Wanda that you wish weren't true. Yet this, this was an unexpected turn.

"...And since I left the house, I can't even sulk in bed or anything." You let out a gentle breath of a laugh, but it was more of a nervous one.

"I mean, I should've had a plan but-- we'd just keep seeing each other and it just...hurts." The florist had said goodbye to the customer who bought the flowers. He seemed happy as he rewrote some things on his little chalkboard. That man was definitely living his best life.

"Where are you gonna go?" She asks, and you go silent. You couldn't go to Carol's. You wouldn't. She's living with Maria and Monica and you probably wouldn't have a room to sleep other than in the living room on the couch. You wouldn't want to intrude on her living conditions anyway.

"I don't...really have anywhere to go to, so anywhere, I guess." You sink into your seat, looking down in your lap to stop staring at people. Kate was silent for a moment, and you're guessing she either didn't know what to say, or is thinking about something.

"My place is available to you if you want to come. You're always welcome here," she offers, and your eyes relax while your fingers fiddle with theirselves, thinking it over.

"...If that's okay with you. I mean, I don't want to intrude on anything--" You add on after quickly, but you get cut off by Kate.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, I've missed having you hanging around. And I promise you, I have two forks and spoons now so we don't have to share one or get a plastic one from Mcdonald's that'll break after a few minutes." She jokes, and that actually made you laugh.

"Okay. Okay, thank you, Kate. I'll be there tomorrow." You sit up more properly, getting ready to drive to the airport. You hadn't visited her in a while, so you already had money ready.

"I will be there to pick you up. Okay? Do not get a cab," she says sternly, and you take in a big breath only to let it out as a small sigh.

"Kate," You say sternly back, wanting to protest and not burden her more. But she hums in disagreement. You know she cared about getting you safe and being the best friend she is, but your head was killing you.

"No. No, Y/N. I am not letting you cry in a cab awkwardly first thing you get out the airport." She argues softly, and you let your shoulders down in defeat. At your silence, she waits.

"I'll let you know when I land." You give in, your voice small.

"Okay, good." You can hear the relief in her voice, and your lip tugs up into the smallest smile

"See you, Kate." You were about to end the call, but she speaks up again.

"Hey."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"See you."

The call ends, and you start driving.

end of chapter 5.

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

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

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[kozachenko]

Zanmu 100% has a very large bone collection. She seems like the type. I can perfectly imagine an interaction with someone, probably Eiki, (idk why but it fits) and she says (for some reason), "You must have a lot of skeletons in your closet" and Zanmu responds with, "Oh, how did you know about my bone collection?" and Eiki just stares for a few seconds and then says, "your what now?" and Zanmu responds by opening up a closet and low and behold, she has a bunch of them. Some human, some not. As Eiki stares in shock, horror, and confusion, Zanmu just starts rambling on about all the facts about bones she knows, where and how she finds them, and even starts sorting them into different piles as she speaks, "Of course, I organize them by species, age, condition, cause of death, and more specific categories," and when Eiki asks how many she has, Zanmu just says, "I kind of lost track after I reached 100" and poor Eiki faints.

{Artists Note}:

So I had a really neat pose idea for Zanmu and I had to draw it. I'm glad that I finally drew her again, because last time I did she looked waaaaaay too tense so this drawing serves to rectify that. Man was the actual process for the first bit of this rough, like, especially the eyes. So last time I drew Zanmu, I gave her some really nice eyeshadow, and I forgot about how big of a difference eyeshadow makes to how the eyes look, so I went through several different variations of them. Also, I'm glad that the expression turned out nicely, it's a nice break from the deadface I've been stuck with for a while now lol. Her one arm that isn't holding the skull kinda gave me some hardship because I had no idea how to show that it was resting on the rock, as the idea for the rest of the piece came to me waaaay after I did the sketch, so hey, just a thing to improve for next time. I played around with some collage elements for the trees, their foliage literally has a paper texture on it. I went for a more simplistic approach to the lighting, letting the colours more or less speak for themselves. The background also gave me a hard time, as I was getting stuck with how to make her pop out from it, and I think I found a good solution using overlay layers.

Clothes and fabrics are now my favourite things to render, it's just so satisfying to do. I also love adding that textured layer overtop of everything, it just makes everything come together y'know?

Also, another headcanon I have for her is that she's taller than Hisami, and Hisami is really tall so that means that Zanmu would be able to tower over literally everyone lol.

[mythrilthread]

Allow me to present: What We've Got series by @definitionsfading

The complete series (over 300k words) is bound into two volumes. One set of books is for me, and the other was sent as a gift to the author.

Now, this series was on my to-bind list from the moment I learned about the concept of ficbinding. It is the ultimate comfort reading, and I spent many happy hours with it — both while it was still ongoing, and when I reread it (which usualy happens right after I rewatch True Detective season 1). And still I didn't have a clear idea for design when I started, so I reread it again. And by about chapter 27 it came to me like a vision. So there you have it.

I designed the covers using the double exposure effect that made the opening credits to True Detective so mesmerising for me. I wanted to use the motifs that came from Rust's synestesia, and also I am known to be quite heavy-handed with my symbolism, so. Yellows and blues, homes, sunflowers, and of course, stars are important, and there they are. I splashed Northern lights all over Rust because the Alaska chapters take up the majority of the second volume, and also because they feel very hopeful.

I painted the endpapers in watercolor (and let me tell you, the last time I tried my hand at that was 15+ years ago) with them gradually changing colors from yellow in the beginning of volume I to blue in the end of volume II. I used salt and bubblewrap to add extra texture, and that was FUN (even though I'll be reluctunt to trust watercolor paper again any time soon).

For title pages I wanted something simpler but also important, so you have little miss Ghost for volume I, and Rust's new tattoo for volume II.

The rest of the typesetting is pretty minimalist, main body font is my beloved Georgia, and the headers are done in a font that closely resembles the one used for True Detective posters. (But also I did play around with a couple of other fonts for addad effect where I felt it was appropriate.)

And of course, a binding of this story wouldn't be complete without some very nice ribbons (complete with star charms, because the light, my dudes, is winning).

This project fought me every step of the way and it was worth every second. Those four books are the first bookbinding project I did after I moved to a different country, and finding supplies has been a challenge. Also, this was my first time trying a three-piece Bradel binding, using ribbon bookmarks, and trying this particular way of titling the spines, and my second time rounding spines and making Oxford hollows. So it gives me enormous joy that all of it somehow worked. Maybe not perfectly, but very, very well.

[thesupremeuziplushy]

Could you do doll with a worker drone reader that voice often glitches like spamtons voice

Doll x WD!Reader with a glitchy voice

I like this one a lot! But I won't actually add stutter or glitchy effects into the text to make it a bit easier to read for dyslexic people. Also, I will use google translate for the Russian sentences and they will 100% not be correct!

Doll doesn't talk a whole lot, that one is for sure.

She prefers listening to other people talking and a weird habit of hers is to pay attention to how their voices sound like

Do they have accents? In what pitch do they talk? What feeling do their voices give, something calming, something exciting?

She appreciates the unique voices the most. People speaking in different languages or accents, dynamic voices that adapt easily to the mood, etc.

And then there's your voice, the most special of them all

You survived an unfortunate incident against the murder drones but not without scratches.

You'd often stutter, getting stuck on words that were once easy to say.

Your voice also had a gritty and glitchy texture which sounded far from pleasant.

The other workers try not to exclude you. They always try to involve you in their activities because they know it's not your fault your voice is like that.

And yet, they often can't listen to it for long, always cutting conversations short.

It hurt. A lot. People began to talk to you less and less until literally, nobody talked to you. Only a select amount of people felt enough pity for you to try.

Doll wasn't aware of any of that. She always thought you never talked because you were, like her, a listener. And thus, she never approached you for a conversation.

You walked around with a huge of paper stacked on top of each other, covering your vision. Cursing at yourself, you regret offering help to the teacher to carry all the worksheets into the faculty room. But then again, he's the only one that hasn't treated you any differently from the rest. No judgment but also no pity.

Doll's gaze was set on her friend Lizzy as she waved goodbye, not noticing you approach her. You bump into each other, sheets falling everywhere on the ground as you flail around, trying to gather each and every one of them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't pay attention..." You say quickly, avoiding Doll's gaze. She stared in awe, mouth hanging open before snapping back to reality, helping you.

"Все нормально. Я не был осторожен." (Everything is fine. I wasn't careful) Now it was your turn to open your mouth in awe. You never heard any worker drone speak any language other than English. Sure, some came with silly accents but they all stuck to the same language.

"You speak Russian?" You ask, perking up. She looks up at you, handing you the last worksheets, and smiles, nodding her head.

"Ваш голос в уникальном" (Your voice is unique). Your smile falters a little, thinking she's about to say something negative or pitiful afterward. But nothing came. Just her gentle smile and a curious glint in her eyes. "Меня зовут Кукла. Как тебя зовут?" (My name is Doll. What is your name?)

"O-Oh?" She's asking you a question? "My name is..."

Doll somehow always managed to find something to talk about around you. And to your surprise, she never interrupted you nor tried to find an excuse to leave. Quiet the opposite actually, she refused to leave you alone.

While creepy to some to you it felt euphoric. You rambled on and on about your favorite topics, hobbies, and interests and Doll would sometimes share some of her own.

You'd get to know each other a lot in a short period of time. Even though Doll doesn't talk as much you could always tell she was listening intensely to what you said.

It didn't take long for you to start dating. Being this obsessed with each other surely wasn't a normal friendship!

Doll recalls how her mother Yeva described love.

It's like an addicting feeling. Something you always want more of and yet feel empty without. It hypnotizes you and you feel like you can see all the colors brighter and happier than they are even if it blinds you. It's the wind that blows the clouds away and the lullaby's to calm you to sleep.

And in Doll's case, she can't get enough of your voice.