#this canvas is too long to photograph well

[inuyashaluver]

Hi could you do smt abt being Lucy bronzes little sister who is the photographer for city women and is in a secret relationship with Leila Ouahabi and no one know because your “forbidden” to footballers per Lucy’s request as according to her your still a baby as your like 23/24 ish.

by the rule book - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which you and your sister have a set of rules that you break because of a certain defender

warnings: let’s pretend leila attended the world cup, basically me yapping, swearing, angsty?

a/n: leila train has arrived back at my stop lmao, thank you so much for the request, much love, enjoy ❤️❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your sister had a set of rules that were heavily referenced while growing up, and the present.

this set of rules sworn on by each sister with the promise they would never be broken. and they weren’t, until leila came into the picture.

—

you were 8 years younger than your sister, lucy. you’re a bronze sister, meaning you were extremely fun, playful, but serious and stoic when you needed to be. you and your sister brought out the best in each other, expecting nothing but the finest.

lucy was the best older sister, she was funny and always included you in everything she did once you grew out of your snitch phase and actually became cool in her eyes. the two of you were always extremely close and that’s how you both liked it.

she encouraged you to put your heart to your passion, one of the main reasons you became a photographer.

lucy was extremely protective of you, hence why she created a simple set of rules between the two of you that shouldn’t be broken.

1 - don’t date any of lucy’s teammates

2 - don’t date any of (y/n)’s friends

3 - respect each other’s boundaries

4 - be honest with each other

5 - sisters come first

the rules were easily agreed upon by the both of you, they were made when you were 16 and lucy was 24.

—

you followed lucy around for photographer opportunities, landing yourself a permanent position on the media teams of both england and manchester city when lucy joined in 2020.

you always loved photography, adoring the feeling of capturing a canvas that would be around for years to come.

just before lucy joined in 2020, you were both at england camp. in free time, everyone would eagerly chatter about their new or current clubs they were going to.

you angled your camera at keira while leah marked her during a mini game, checking the photos with a pleased smile until your sister hopped on your back.

“munchkin!” (your nickname for as long as you can remember) “luce! get off!” you laugh, almost falling flat on your face until your sister got off you, giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek that you were quick to squeal and complain about.

“you’re so annoying” you grumble, unable to fight your smile at seeing your sister’s bright grin. “shut up, show me some pics, picasso” she teases.

you roll your eyes amusingly, giving her a sneak peek of all the photos you’d taken so far, letting out a bright laugh when she made you stop on a photo of her.

“that’s class” she pinches your cheek teasingly, “well done, baby sis” she coos teasingly, a couple of the girls coming over and teasing you too.

everyone viewed you as family and a teammate even though you were just their photographer, you’d been with them for so long, they’d grown a huge love for you.

“you excited for manchester, (y/n/n)?” leah throws an arm over your shoulder as you both walked inside st george, “yeah! should be good, nice and cold” you grin,

“maybe manchester city is where we can finally see you get a partner?” she teases, you both laugh, “lee, come on, you know the rules” you laugh, “i know the rules!” lucy calls out from behind you from where she was walking behind you.

you flip her off and she gasps offendedly, “i could get you fired for that!” she exclaims, you wave her off, laughing along with leah.

—

you, lucy and keira all lived together in manchester, splitting the rent and living comfortably.

but in 2022, the two of them got offered contracts for barcelona and they accepted, but you didn’t. manchester felt like home to you, and you really didn’t want to leave it.

it was the first time you’d been away from lucy, and don’t be mistaken, you are a highly independent person but something was so reassuring about having your sister with you.

before they moved, they helped you move into a flat for yourself, small and homey like you needed.

it was incredibly tearful dropping keira and lucy off to the airport, you don’t think you’ve ever felt your sister hug you so tight.

“i love you” she breathes out into your embrace, you hug her back equally as tight, “such a sap, bronzes don’t do that” you tease, receiving a slap on the back of your head.

it was daunting for the both of you to be apart, not really having to do that in your lives.

“i love you too” you smile, “i’ll call you when we land” lucy sniffs, hastily wiping away her tears and letting keira hug you as well. “my favourite bronze” keira smiles, both you and lucy letting out a wet laugh.

you wave them both off with a sad smile, waiting for them to go through the gate before you dragged yourself back to your car and drove off.

—

you went back to work at the beginning of the season, waiting for the girls to come outside to photograph their training session.

you smile and wave to familiar faces, taking a couple of test photos before you noticed a new face that you didn’t recognise at first, one of the new signings.

your eyes narrowed slightly in concentration when you looked at her, until you realised who it was. leila ouahabi.

you’ve never met her formally, only smiling at her in the hallways of national games if you had the chance. you always thought she was absolutely gorgeous, but you also appreciated the way she defended, even your sister agreeing she was incredible.

leila smiles at you, slightly surprised to recognise you slightly. the truth was, leila had been heavily looking at your social media platform ever since she laid eyes on you way back.

she thought you were gorgeous, she could tell you were a soft soul, with your charming smile and cute little face you made when you were concentrating on your camera.

she wanted to know you, she was just shy about it, not knowing to approach you, maybe this was the opportunity she needed.

—

training progressed, you smile pleasingly when you look back at your photos, your ultra focus showing on your facial features as you attempt to capture the best photos possible.

you were sat on the side of the pitch watching the girls train, your eyes subconsciously drifting to the spaniard.

it was until a mini game that a certain defender was chasing the ball, kicking it out and sliding directly next to you that your breathing quickened.

you look down to see her slightly wincing, heavily breathing and looking a little too attractive but that was an afterthought.

“are you okay?” you breathe out, the girl on the floor looks up at you surprised, a sly smile taking over her features.

“i’m fine, hermosa (beautiful), thank you” she winks, pushing herself up from the floor and dusting herself off, walking back to the pitch and making sure to look back at you with a flirty smile.

you blink in shock, what was that interaction?

—

these interactions went on, situations where you felt extremely nervous around her even when she was barely doing anything.

you were photographing the new kit, only a set amount of players selected for the campaign, and luckily for you, leila was the very last model for the day.

leila came in with her charming smile and a dray of drinks in her hands, she perks up when you make eye contact.

“good morning, hermosa (beautiful)” she grins, extending the warm drink out to you, you look at her in surprise, a grateful smile gracing your features.

“morning, leila, thank you” you take a sip and let out a pleased sigh, “how did you know this is my favourite?” you tease.

“i read your cup” she says with a flirty smile, though her cheeks tinged slightly with pink. you smile before clearing your throat.

you go through the plans for the shoot, explaining what type of photos you’ll be taking, the approach of the shoot and what you needed from her.

she maintained eye contact the entire time you spoke, nodding along with each and every word and clarifying on things when she didn’t understand.

it was almost hard to press the shutter button when leila would pose, it was a simple, basic, arms crossed - stoic football pose photo that you’ve taken numerous times in your career but something was just so different about how leila did it.

her confidence poured out of her and her smirk made your stomach flip. she was serious but loved to joke around with you when the time called for it.

the two of you basically chatting, taking a photo, chatting, taking a photo. a simple yet effective formula that you both enjoyed. so much so, leila asked you to go out on a date with her and you accepted without a second thought.

—

the two of you went on a couple of dates before the two of you started dating. back then it was really fresh but extremely obvious with the heart eyes you’d send each other.

the manchester girls caught on before the two of you could even process it. and the only condition for everyone was to vow their silence around your sister with the promise of the best pictures being published.

as time progressed, you both moved in together, both of you in one of the most genuine, loving relationship the two of you had ever had.

—

“baby, i’m working” you giggle, pressed up against a random wall, one hand on leila’s hip, camera in the other.

“amor (love), you’re not working right now” she grins cheekily, lips quickly locking with yours. one of her hands on your cheek and one on your hip holding you close to her.

you let out a little exhale from your nose in a laugh, to focused on kissing your now girlfriend of a year.

it was hard hiding it from lucy, especially when the two of you lived together. you were able to get away with it most of the time, telling your sister your roommate was just really chatty.

“baby” you mumble against her lips, attempting to push her away by the chest but the girl was attached to you, “shh, let it happen” she mockingly scolds, giving you a stern look before she kissed you breathlessly.

that’s when you hear it, the chuckles and teasing coming from familiar blondes, alex and chloe. “get it, baby bronze” alex whistles, you and leila pulled away with a roll of both of your eyes.

“don’t forget about that photo i have of you, alex” you threaten, one taken of her with an expression on her face during a header that had her screeching in fear when she saw you laughing at it.

“you’re just as annoying as your sister” alex flips you off when you blow her a kiss, laughing as they walked away.

leila squishes your cheeks together with one of her hands, forming your lips into a little pout, “mi amor (my love), those are my kisses” she grins lazily, clearly teasing you when she placed a little kiss on your forced pout.

you usher her off to training, giving her a playful slap on her backside that she shook her head at.

—

it was during the 2023 world cup that you both got found out, and boy was it an experience. your sister was extremely confused as to why you were so excited spain was in the final, wondering what your certain new interest about the spanish team was about.

“don’t tell me you’re a traitor, munchkin?” lucy scoffs while you set up your camera on the pitch during a pre-match walk.

“luce, i’ve got my england merch on, thank you” you laugh, shaking your head as you take a quick photo of her with an evident frown on her face, her eyes narrowed at you.

“why do you keep looking at their bench?” she questions, following your eyes to see some of the spain girls walking out to do their own checks.

“why are you so paranoid, lucia?” you tease, punching her lightly on the arm and wincing when a slap made its way to the back of your head.

“some of the girl’s play for city, i’m just being nice” you rub your head in slight pain, glaring at your older sister that she returned.

“i’ll find out, i always do” she concludes, letting you go back to taking some photos and other little media bits.

—

and unfortunately for you. she did find out.

the girls were lining up in the tunnel, about 5 minutes until everyone would walk out. ironically you see you sister standing next to leila in the tunnel, you try to fight your smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend.

she smiles at you, your bodies moving on their own as you completed her pre match ritual, three quick pecks on the lips.

you both smiled brightly when you pulled back, before you heard a sharp voice coming from behind you.

“what the fuck was that?” your sister exclaimed, her hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, both yours and leila’s eyes widened, realising what had just happened. “fucking ouahabi” she breathes out in disbelief.

“i really hope you’re fucking joking, (y/n) bronze because i’m not fucking laughing” she says lowly, not wanting to attract much attention but she was.

you just look up at your sister in shock, mouth slightly agape, “nah, we’re talking about this. later” she glares, both at you and leila.

the girls walk out and you watch them dumbly as you go. you were grateful that moment wasn’t recorded.

during half time your sister wouldn’t even look at you, brushing you off like you were nothing. “don’t” she pleads, walking past you as you tried to approach her.

you walk to the tunnel and felt the tears pricking in your eyes, and like a magnet, leila’s hand found yours, dragging you into a quiet corner where the two of you could have some privacy.

as soon as your girlfriend brought you into a tight embrace, you broke down. “shh, it’s okay” she hums, kissing your cheek softly as you cried in her arms.

she pulls back slightly, looking at you with a sad expression when she saw your tear streaked face, her hand moving up to wipe away the evidence.

“i didn’t want her to find out like that, i was ready to tell her tonight” you sniffle, leila nods along with your words, listening to your little ramble intently as she comforted you.

“i know, bebé (baby), i know” she says sympathetically, pulling you into another hug and just holding you.

she stayed with you the entire time, talking you down and making you look presentable before you went back on the pitch.

she knew she would get subbed off anyway, only wanting to focus on you for the minute. you were still in a hug when lucy came out of the change room, her face softening when she saw your red eyes.

she was about to say something but she stopped herself, not wanting to do this right away. she weirdly smiles at both of you, tight lipped but still somewhat of a smile.

“it’s okay” leila whispers, and it really felt like it was.

leila kisses you softly before she makes her way back on the pitch, and of course when the match ended and england lost, the mood changed.

your sister let you hug her tightly after the loss, holding onto you for dear life as she hugged you. “luce, i’m so sorry, you played so well” you whispered, your hand rubbing up and down her back.

“i’m sorry, munchkin, we still need to talk” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and giving you a gentle smile. you nod, pulling her into another tight hug before you went off to congratulate your girlfriend, weirdly through the encouragement of your sister.

“hey, baby” you smile at your girlfriend, giving her a quick hug when she presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she greets with a bright smile, “congratulations” you whisper, she thanks you quickly, looking over your shoulder to see your sister hovering around with tears in her eyes, walking around by herself.

“give me one second” leila whispers, gripping your hand gently and walking over to lucy, you and your sister having matching surprised expressions.

“i want to honest, i love your sister, we have been together for a year and we were going to tell you sooner but she was really scared and i respect her” she blurts out,

“i would love to talk about this with you, if you’ll let me” leila says nervously, lucy pauses for a moment before nodding, pulling leila into an extremely quick hug but extremely meaningful.

“sure thing, leila” your sister smiles, a little laugh escaping her lips, “you know, you broke rule number one” lucy teases, telling you everything was going to be okay.

“it doesn’t count! you left when she came over” you groan, letting leila tuck you into her side as she giggled, watching you and your sister bicker like kids.

she could tell how much you cared about each other. but lucy could tell the same for the both of you.

—

all three of you did have that talk, you and your girlfriend explained the details of your relationship to your sister that she was actually quite happy about.

she’d never seen you so happy, so light with any of your previous partners.

she could tell you both loved each other because it was so painfully obvious but she was truly happy after she let out a rant about how you literally broke every rule in the contact.

she got over it though, a hefty shopping spree having your bank account screaming for salvation.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily oniiii

liked by alexiaputellas and 44,232 others

leilaouahabi: biggest fan and personal photographer

view all comments

yourname: baby, my job is a photographer

↳ leilaouahabi: you’re no fun

lucybronze: hands off my sister

↳ yourname: you’re annoying

↳ lucybronze: you’re annoying

↳ leilaouahabi: i won’t touch her i swear

↳ yourname: sureeeeeeee

alexgreenwood5: so happy i don’t have to but my tongue anymore

↳ lucybronze: you knew?

↳ alexgreenwood5: no comment

leahwilliamsonn: told you!!

↳ yourname: you really did!

[ad-hawkeye]

Alkaid's Destiny's Call Endings

A transcript of each ending can be found below.

ASTRONOMER ENDING

Ever since he was a child, Alkaid has always harbored a profound fascination with the heavens above. Gazing into the sky, he could sense the endlessness of the world beyond the curtain of the sky.

When he grew up, he bought a small telescope, which shortened the distance between him and the sky. Through it, he could see beautiful stars traveling along mysterious tracks in space.

Eventually, Alkaid's unwavering passion led him down the path of becoming an astronomer. Countless complexities created a cascade of numbers, constructing a ladder that propelled him toward the stars.

There, he watched the birth and death of the stars as if he was watching the blossoming and withering of a flower.

FLORIST ENDING

After reaching the age of 18, Alkaid became the owner of a flower shop. He named his store "Aurora," a name he held dear, even though its profound significance remained a secret, intertwined with the threads of destiny.

He looks after the white roses, lilies, and daisies in his floral shop. He treats these delicate flowers as cherished companions, joyfully passing them into the hands of those who appreciate them properly.

"Do you have 319 white roses in stock?"*

"I'm afraid we don't at the moment. But you can leave your contact details and I'll call you to pick them up in three days."

"Okay. Thank you." The girl nods and leaves her contact information.

Alkaid takes the note and repeats her name under his breath - "Can I call you... Miss [MC Name]?

*March 19th is Alkaid's birthday.

TRAVEL PHOTOGRAPHER ENDING

Alkaid has visited countless places.

To him, the world contains both perils and marvels. In his eyes, the allure of a place grows exponentially with its danger and inaccessibility.

Fearless and resolute, Alkaid willingly embraces risk to experience the world on a personal level. He captures these extraordinary locations through the lens of his camera, cherishing them as souvenirs.

The sight of snow-capped mountains always leaves him awestruck. As Alkaid sets up his equipment, a girl walks into his camera frame. With a canvas in her hand, she trips over and falls down in the snow.

"It's too dangerous to traverse this mountain on your own," Alkaid says as he runs over to help the girl.

RACE CAR DRIVER ENDING

As the race car reaches its maximum speed, a whirlwind ensues. The boundary between life and death is so close, and fate can be heard screaming.

Alkaid can't say for sure why he fell in love with this feeling. It only lasts for an instant, but still leaves him in deep fascination.

When the car reaches the finish line, Alkaid's soul finally finds solace. Mr. McGrath, the "Best Driver of the Year", smiles gently as he received a starry candy bouquet.

"Congratulations, Alkaid!"

Alkaid looks at the girl. Again, he feels the thrilling sensation he'd just experienced. But this time, it faintly whirls around his heart.

He asks the girl, "May I have your name?"

"My name is [MC Name]," she replies.

PSYCHOLOGIST ENDING

Alkaid first became interested in psychology because he wanted to understand himself and other human beings.

Later on, he discovered that the world is a vast ocean where everyone is surrounded by water. People affect and are affected by each other. There is no shame in misfortune and feeling emotions. Reconciliation is a long process. Emotions, just like many things in the world, are contagious.

Although, ever since he became a psychologist, Alkaid thinks he's adapted very well.

"Next, please."

PILOT ENDING

Countless choices in life often originate from fortuitous encounters. Yet, this choices often carry a sense of destiny.

Planes mimic the graceful flight of birds as they ascend into the heavens. Bound by the pull of gravity, they persistently strive to soar higher and higher.

Whenever he soars into the sky and glides over the horizon, and whenever he sees a glimpse of the glow at the end of the world, Alkaid is reminded of one afternoon from many years ago.

Through torrents of rain and storms, he unfurls his wings, determined to fly into the heavens and safeguard the land beneath him.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Dorian with a Darling who does body painting and is determined😏 to make him their newest masterpiece..... although it might be a project best left for Darling's eyes only 🤭

Dorian’s fingers still over his phone at the work of art displayed on its screen. The painting is gorgeous, yes. He assumes the model must be rather attractive as well, but it’s obvious with your level of talent you could make anyone look ethereal. He’s not the least bit interested in the model, the canvas. He has to know more about the person behind the paintbrushes and air brushes, behind the camera. He has to know more about you.

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: murder, smut, jealousy, praise kink, unprofessional work environment, technically Dorian is Darling’s employer;;; post-sex photography

Info: gn reader, no agab mentioned; switch/dom reader; switch/sub yandere

Dorian invited you to stay in his home to pursue your art more freely, but his bitterness at you bringing home “random tramps” to paint wears away at his nerves. He certainly doesn’t feel himself to be a prime candidate for artistic inspiration or photographs, but he can’t stand you spending so much time with other people. The curse of your line of work is that need for a living canvas; a need he cannot deny you, or else your art will enchant no longer.

He kills your models when you’re through with them. If you ever question why none return your calls to work with you again, you don’t mention it to him. You don’t talk much to him at all. It’s both comforting and frustrating. He wants to hear your thoughts, but he never knows what to say in response.

Imagine his surprise upon learning you want him to be your canvas— that you were even feeling a bit shy about asking him to sit for you.

“You’ve already done so much, I don’t want to trouble you more…”

“Nonsense! If anything—” Dorian seems to realize his tone is too passionate, too loud, and coughs self-consciously into his sleeve before continuing more quietly— “if anything, it would be an honor.”

~~~

Dorian is mostly bare, his last vestige of modesty a blanket covering his privates. He tries so hard not to squirm under your gaze as you evaluate the planes and curves of his body. He has to fight for that stillness even harder at the cold touch of paint on his skin, knowing that it’s you who’s adorning him like this, making him into art. Your art.

If you notice him trembling and breathing a little shallowly as cover his face, then arms, then chest in a base layer to protect his skin followed by swathes of deep blue paint, mercifully you don’t say so.

Dorian is beginning to relax, patting himself on the back for being so normal when he feels a swipe of primer across his hip and jolts away with a gasp, eyes shooting open.

You jolt back too, drawing your hands back to yourself, apologizing profusely.

Dorian swallows down the lump in his throat, willing his heart to stop sending so much damn blood down south. His ears are ringing. He clears his throat again, avoiding your eye. “I should be the one apologizing… you are only doing what we agreed to…”

He coughs again, hiding himself from you as best he can. “I-I’m afraid it’s just been… rather a long time since somebody has touched me… there…”

Oh. Here you were, so afraid to paint your handsome benefactor, and he was even more nervous than you!

Dorian cringes away at your laugh, beautiful though it is. He relaxes when you take his hand in yours, kissing the back of his knuckles.

“It’s okay to feel that way. It happens surprisingly often.”

Dorian frowns at the thought of other people in his spot. Did you hold their hands too? Kiss their skin, smudge the paint drying there? Dorian turns his head to kiss your hand in turn, watching the gentle laughter dry in your throat at his heated look. “And what do you usually do when that happens?”

“I…” you swallow harshly, looking away. “I usually leave the room so the model can compose themself…”

Dorian hums, kissing up your wrist and nipping at the skin when you answer. “And what if I don’t want you to leave? What if… I want you to stay?”

Your head spins with sudden heat as Dorian pulls you into a kiss, smearing blue paint all over your lips and nose. You’re out of breath long before he lets you go, sucking down air greedily and giggling a little at the absurdity of it all. Dorian pulls you even closer, guiding your hand to his cock.

You gently pull him out from under the blanket. He’s dripping already. You smear pre-cum with your thumb, licking your lips as Dorian shudders and tilts forward to rest his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter with every stroke, soft whispers of your name leaving his lips like a prayer.

He’s beautiful like this, and you tell him so. Dorian whines. His gasps of your name only grow louder, his cock twitching harder as you continue to praise him— no matter how much he shakes his head in denial of your sweet words.

He cums hard, white splattering across his painted stomach. You coax him to lay back in a more comfortable position, petting his hair and reassuring him he did a good job for you, before taking out your camera and snapping some pictures to start a… private collection.

[kylobith]

Little Town Tails

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: After saving up for years, Halsin fulfils his dream and opens his veterinary practice in a quaint little town.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 1,441

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Sunlight pierces through the cherry blossoms, dancing upon the cobblestone of the old arched bridge leading into Heawick. It is a quaint little town, tucked away between rolling hills dotted with hazel trees, a grove, and meandering streams. No modern architecture has defaced its landscape, leaving its traditional limestone facades to stand the test of time, which they did brilliantly.

After all, anybody lucky enough to settle down in Heawick can only fall in love with its old streets and picturesque shopfronts, and this urged most of the inhabitants to care for the outside of their homes almost as much as they did the inside. Those who are too old to tend to them can usually rely on the kindness of good-hearted neighbours, who do not hesitate to lend a hand for anything. Trimming the growing ivy without removing it, plucking juicy fruits from branches, cleaning windows; there is never a task too daunting when it comes to helping out.

It is early on a spring morning and the elderly man who lives nearest to the bridge has already been up and about for hours to water every planter lining up the road and hanging from the old lampposts with their flaky paint. Another project held captive in the neverending pile of documents and forms on Mayor Ravengard’s desk.

The bakery at the corner of the first crossing has long finished its first batches of pastries and bread, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. A few souls are already dragging their feet to its doors, still wiping the sleep out of their eyes as they seek some warm breakfast. On the opposite side of the street, a sweaty young man carries crates full of fruits and vegetables. He sets them up outside the greengrocer's shop, ensuring they are stable enough to sustain the shaking and bumping of passersby and customers.

Near the tiny park at the heart of the town, some owners walk their dogs, waving at neighbours and friends, wishing one another good morning when they have enough caffeine in their veins to wake them up. The barber reads his newspaper on one of the benches, seizing the opportunity to enjoy the first beautiful day of the season before going to work.

All is well in Heawick, as it always is. It is rarely eventful since so few people inhabit it.

‘Come here, Scratch. Good boy.’

While giving the white dog a loving pat between the ears, Halsin turns the sign on the door, officially opening his practice. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his house, a triumphant surge coursing through his veins. So many years of hard labour and sacrifice, this seemingly small victory holds the weight of a lifetime’s worth of dedication and perseverance.

After perusing office space offers on every website known to man and visiting many a wretched place, having found this little corner of paradise to establish himself was nothing short of a miracle. And what a place it is!

Everything is ready for him to welcome his first furry patients. After renovating the place himself, he designed a welcoming surgery for owners and animals alike, creating an environment in which he would not mind staying for hours on end every day. Each nook and cranny has been sterilised for the animals’ well-being and he dedicated a corner for the comfort of his own dog, whom he expects to become his official assistant. Photographs of Scratch and the pets of friends from his hometown printed on canvas are the only decorations in the waiting room, ornamenting the otherwise dull, pastel-blue walls. At the welcome desk, a duck he whittled himself sits on top of the counter between two bowls of treats; one for the pets, one for the anxious owners.

Karlach, his newly hired assistant, insisted on having more decorations brought in, but Halsin was more than hesitant to indulge her. While the young woman certainly is enthusiastic enough for both of them, he can tell that if he does not put his foot down, the practice would have stuffed animals from floor to ceiling.

After giving the place yet another proud look, Halsin walked over to the reception, sneaking a treat to Scratch on the way. He sits behind the computer and plays old-timey folk music from his music library. He stretches his back and spins around on his chair, kicking his feet.

Now he just has to wait.

While one of his favourite songs plays, he browses the latest wildlife photographs on the National Geographic website, smiling at the wholesome snapshots and zooming on each of them to observe any detail capturing his attention. He is halfway through the second page and sipping his cold herbal tea when the door opens and the little bell tinkles. His eyes shoot up and he stands from his chair.

But it is no patient. It is merely Melly, the baker’s mother, who comes to bring him some fruit pastries wrapped up in a small lavender-coloured box topped with a bow. As soon as she catches a glimpse of him, her eyes illuminate and she gives him a wave.

‘Good morning, Halsin, dear!’ she chimes.

Grinning from ear to ear, he bypasses the desk and comes to shake the old lady’s hand. Curled up on his cushion, Scratch looks up, but ignores her arrival and goes back to sleep.

‘Good morning, Melly,’ he greets her back. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing, love, nothing at all! I came to see how you were faring on your first day.’

Halsin gazes around with a chuckle.

‘It has been quiet so far. In fact, you are the first person to walk in.’

‘Is that so? Ah, well, do not worry, dearie. The people in this town have been praying for a doctor and a veterinarian closer to home for decades. They will come.’

The thought warms up the man’s heart. Not that he has been worrying about the lack of patients so far, but he has come to wonder on multiple occasions about how long it would take for the first appointments to come in. He has bills to pay after all, and the renovation of what used to be a woodworker’s shop was not cheap, no matter how many things he did himself to save up on better equipment.

‘Would you like some tea, Melly?’

‘Oh, no, darling, thank you,’ she chuckles with a dismissing wave of her hand. The old woman hands him the lavender box. ‘I brought you this, thought you might need a little encouragement for your first day.’

‘How lovely of you, thank you!’

‘I will not linger, I fear that my old face would scare even the sickest hound away,’ she jokes while patting his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take some of your business cards to display at the bakery? I’m sure that my son would not object.’

Melly does not even wait for him to respond before grabbing a quarter of the cards neatly stacked on the countertop. She shoves them in her cardigan’s pocket. The garment seems to have survived many decades, yet has retained its charm. Halsin always finds himself smiling at the sight of the ducks knitted around the waistline, complementing the beige diamond stitches all over it.

‘Do you need me to bring you lunch later, love?’

‘No, Melly, thank you. I have already planned my next few meals, but it is nice of you to offer.’

‘Very well,’ she smiles, patting his cheek. ‘You know where to find me if you need anything.’

‘I do. Thank you for everything.’

Out of courtesy, he accompanies her to the door, the pastry box seeming so tiny in his large palm, when it is a normal size in anybody else’s grasp. Before leaving, Melly turns to look at him, running a wrinkled finger underneath her chin.

‘Where is that eccentric assistant of yours? Is she not helping you today?’

‘Karlach? Oh, she is touring the neighbouring towns to leave calling cards in shops and town halls.’

‘Oh, good, good. What a tempest, this girl!’

Halsin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

‘She is, but I am sure that the animals will love her. I can already tell that she will love them first anyway.’

‘Well, as long as she works well…’

Without adding another word, Melly crosses the road, absent-mindedly waving at him while she looks around for cars. Once the old lady has returned to the bakery, Halsin takes a deep breath of countryside air and moves to close the door.

That is when he sees her.

[gremlins-hotel]

I’ve seen a vision and need to expel it from my mind:

Alfred smooching the surface of Ivan’s space helmet because he thought it would be cute.

Ivan just watching Al squish his face against the glass and slobber all over it.

i am feeling nice today. haven't written anything in a while, nor drawn. i hope it's at least funny if not somewhat entertaining. now i go hang up my laundry,,,

“Dude, I can’t believe you still have that!” exclaimed Alfred, looking his buddy up and down. “And that they were actually willing to make a suit that fits you, Christ. Or let you keep it. How old is it now?”

Ignoring Alfred, Ivan twisted to observe the old spaceflight uniform he wore. It hugged a little too tightly in places but still, he had managed to squeeze the old suit on without it complaining too much. With a blink and a look up, he considered his response. “Trust you me, I am convinced I was only allowed to keep the suit because no one else could dream of wearing it comfortably, not even for training. It is an early Sokol, so the seventies. I, ah…do not remember the exact year.”

“Damn, a pity,” Alfred nodded, “no spacewalks for you then. Not in that at least.” Unafraid, he walked up to the giant and circled him, observing the hose-like sleeves and mission patches across the body. A red-and-blue Apollo-Soyuz patch stood out against Ivan’s stomach. It earned a laugh from Alfred; he remembered that joint mission well. He also remembered having to shake hands with Ivan. It wasn’t their first and wouldn’t be their last, and at least the two of them had always agreed on one thing: the stars were for the discovery of all mankind, though of course, neither of them was man.

The bear shook his head, following the other Nation’s stare, “No, it is like your Shuttle suits. For the spacecraft only, yes. We had others for spacewalks like the Orlan.”

“Oh yeah, I remember,” came the confident reply.

“And here I was under the insinuation that you didn’t. Not that I would be surprised, you’re like a dog in this regard.” Ivan gave a gruff snap of laughter and lifted a hand to ruffle jokingly at Alfred’s hair like a golden retriever. His hands were quickly smacked away with a roll of the smaller man’s eyes. Black gloves were taken into curious hands and turned over, the ridges of the knuckles poked and prodded. Snatching his hand away, Ivan observed the glove too, “This thing is starting to get hot. Anything else?”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms. “Hmm…still got the helmet or no, big guy?”

“Podozhdite,” Ivan rumbled, making a quick face before shuffling to the old box he had dragged the suit from. Always the soft helmet had been his favorite part. When not in use, he could stuff the loose part against the visor and it’d be fine, as long as the visor itself wasn’t getting scratched. Squatting to rummage through the contents before him, he wondered at the helmet’s condition. The edges of blue anodized aluminum, dull with time, met his fingers and Ivan pulled with some relief, brushing the white canvas free of their stubborn fold.

Pulling the helmet over his head proved to be somewhat difficult, and Ivan remembered why he had shaved his beard when he had more regularly worn the equipment. At that the memory of Alfred trying to keep his face trained for their photographed handshake in 1975 was loud. Throughout the experiments, the other Nation hadn’t let him live down how “babyfaced” he appeared without it. Friends or enemies, it was true that they always knew how to dig deep and press each other’s buttons. Ivan had barely kept from slapping Alfred then, to tell him to be serious. But that would’ve been counterintuitive to the joint mission, as satisfying as it likely would’ve been.

Fumbling with the flange, it snapped into place with a satisfying sound. It was slightly uncomfortable without the soft under cap, but he’d be taking the suit off soon enough. Both hands were needed to shove the visor down on its aging hinges. From his crouch, Ivan turned his head and offered a half-assed salute, “Opa!”

Alfred’s form was dark through the visor and his snort muffled through the helmet’s canvas. “Don’t move.”

“What are you planning?” Ivan’s voice bounced back at him from the visor, but he hoped Alfred could still hear. The other Nation approached until only legs were in Ivan’s vision. He recoiled slightly to look up, “If you scratch this helmet I will make sure you regret it, Jones.”

“Don’t bellyache dumbass, I ain’t gonna hurt you. Not right now, at least. Now hold still,” said Alfred above him. Hands grabbed either side of Ivan’s head, pressing the PA6 nylon of the inside against his ears. Trying to jerk away from the contact, Ivan’s hands reached out to push at Alfred’s arms with a hiss. Sibilant air once more echoed back to his own senses. He could see Alfred leaning down toward his head. He frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh come on, you’re like the only asshole I could do this with. It’ll be like a goddamn movie.” Alfred complained.

“No,” Ivan barked, “not unless you plan to die.”

“You’re fucking lame, Red,” Alfred sighed beyond Ivan’s visor. “Consider: I do this, and you can put me in a headlock after you get out of the Spandex.”

And Ivan did consider. “Bold words just to call me fat. It is your death warrant, not mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you say?”

“Fine.”

Through the dark visor, Ivan watched as Alfred continued to lean down. The hands holding his skull seemed to pull him up and the former cosmonaut jerked his chin higher to see better. Lips folded and approached the polycarbonate screen, pressing to it and crafting the same funny image as a hand plastered to glass. Actually, it was disgusting from inside the helmet.

Ivan could see the lines etched in the other man’s lips in too much detail, and he grimaced at realizing Alfred had purposefully made his kiss very wet. Tiny bubbles smashed against the hard material. It would leave a mark on the visor that Ivan immediately decided he would make the other astronaut clean. An awful kissy sound smacked his eardrums, muffled as it was, and the Nation thrashed his helmeted head away from his friend. Ivan made a retching sound in the back of his throat when his motion caused a slobbery smear across the visor.

Pulling away with that obnoxiously jovial laugh he had, Alfred’s face was cracked in mirth. He could see the giant’s contorted mouth, though his eyes were hidden beneath the polarized upper half of the visor. Still he firmly held his friend’s head, laughing the whole time. Ignoring the swearing behind the helm, Alfred threw his head back to snort and laugh harder when he heard a muffled ‘fucking dog’. He was dead the moment Ivan divested himself of the space suit, but half the fun would be kicking his ass.

[nickssidewitch]

How would da boys react if their partner could draw or paint? As a hobby, but they're really good at it? Like, imagine Nick deciding to scare his boyfriend from behind, only to see he is painting a portrait of him on his phone? That would be so cute 🥹

🖌️🎨 How The Triplets Would React if their Partners were Secret Artists! 👨🏻‍🎨🖼️👩🏾‍🎨

Aw that example is way too cute!! 💜😭

In that specific scenario, Nick would be so in awe of his boyfriend. I can imagine one day, he’d be at his boyfriend’s house, casually grabbing a snack from his kitchen cupboards before heading off to find where his man wandered off to with a secret mission to scare him. He’d then come across the garage door ajar and peer through it, noticing his boyfriend sat in front of an easel with a palette in one hand and a brush in another. As Nick would narrow his eyes to adjust his vision, he’d recognize his own face painted onto the canvas. He’d slowly open the garage door, causing his boyfriend to jolt at the sound of the door creaking. Nick would chuckle at his reaction and smile warmly at him, leaning against the door and saying things like “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?!” or “Damn, so you’re the talented one between the two of us, huh?”, leaving his boyfriend to shrug and blush at his words, reminding Nick “Well, I’m with a sick photographer who can also edit videos for a living, so I wouldn’t say I’m the only talented one here”, which would make Nick even more flustered than he already is, causing him to sit there and admirably watch his boyfriend at work for the rest of the painting.

*****

Matt would be lost for words, but find it incredibly cute. He’d be waiting for his girlfriend while she’s in the shower, absentmindedly glancing at the things she put on top of his desk when she came over. He’d open up what he thought was his girlfriend’s notepad, only to widen his eyes as he flipped through pages of sketches and drawings, some of them depicting him. He would be mesmerized by her work, of course, admiring the accuracy of the lines and shading. But, he would quickly close the sketchbook when a pang of guilt pulls at his heartstrings for even just glancing at it. After her shower, the two of them would be sat on his bed, having a casual conversation, when all of a sudden he looks at her and says, “You know that notepad you brought with you? The one on my desk?”, and she’d nod a bit quizzically, wondering why he would bring that up out of nowhere. He’d add, “I didn’t know you could sketch! You kept that a secret from me?!” And she’d laugh, a blush visible on her face. “I guess it never came up in conversation…” which was half true. But, by her demeanor, Matt could tell she was also a bit embarrassed of her talent, and he could infer that that was especially the case because a lot of her sketches were of him. He’d lighten the situation, stating “If you needed me to pose for you, you could’ve just asked,” followed by a pose he would personally find embarrassing if he did it for anyone else. The smile and laugh that would follow from her mouth would be enough for the two of them to be content for the rest of the night.

*****

Chris would literally obsess over her work, looking over her shoulder and constantly asking her curious questions as she’s in the middle of it like “You plan on selling these or is this just a hobby?” or “How long have you been doing this?” or “Do you usually use these ‘crayon things’ (and by “crayon things” he means “oil pastels”, God bless this unknowing kid’s soul 😭) or do you use other stuff?”. And occasionally, he would pester her with teases like “So, would you say that I’m your muse then? 😏👀” or “I got something else you can paint 😏”, causing his girlfriend to nudge him bashfully and blush, stating “You fucking wish I would draw that, perv!” He’d playfully stand behind her easel, posing with many different stances, stating every mood and tone of the stance out loud. He’d pose like the sculpture The Thinker and say “pensive”, he’d flex his biceps and say with a cocky tone “buff!”, and he’d repeatedly do this many more times until his girl scoffs and rolls her eyes, asking in a disciplinary tone, “Chris, you wanna be my muse or not?”, to which he’d giggle at her tone of voice and finally put on his best final stance that she could work with. Despite all of Chris’s teases and taunts, he would be in awe of the way his girl would work her magic in any medium she touches, even saving some pictures of her work on his phone to show off to his friends, proudly saying, “Yeah, my girl’s an artiste,” followed by a chef’s kiss.

[thefandomenchantress]

DRDT Incorrect Quotes (Pt. 1?)

I got bored and decided to share some of the incorrect quotes that I made a while ago. Hopefully they’re in-character, haha.

Levi: *Walks into the room* Why are you standing on the table?

Ace: Because I can!

Levi: …Where’s the spider?

Ace: On the ground, please kill it, what if it crawls up!?!

David: That’s ridiculous! Xander doesn’t have a crush on me.

Teruko: Yes he does.

Whit: Yes he does.

Xander: Yes I do.

Eden: Look, I made a friendship bracelet for you!

J: Oh, I’m not really a jewelry person…

Eden: You don’t have to wear it.

J: No, I’m wearing it forever, back off.

Random Guy: Some dude’s going off the bungee swing backwards!

Charles: Ha! What an idiot.

Whit: I’M GOING OFF THE BUNGEE SWING BACKWARDS!!!!!

Charles: FUCK THAT’S MY IDIOT!

Hu: Are you laughing at that video of Xander and Arei fighting?!?

Teruko: No.

Teruko: I’m laughing at the comments.

Rose: With great power…

Rose: Comes the need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

Ace: Guess I’m just too tough to cry.

Levi: Just yesterday you were crying about snakes.

Ace, terrified: THEY DON’T HAVE ANY ARMS!!!

Hu: Sorry it took me so long to get you out of jail.

Whit: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have used my one phone call to prank call the police.

David: Quitting! It’s like trying, but easier!

J: Don’t worry, I have a permit.

Hu: *Inspects it* This just says ‘I can do what I want’.

*At the zoo* Xander: What’re they in for?

David: Xander, this isn’t a prison

Xander: So can they leave?

David: No, but—

Xander, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Teruko: Hey, what’s the name of the guy that lives down the hall?

Nico: His cats’ names are Walter and Rose.

Teruko: That’s not what I asked.

Nico: That’s all the information I have.

Whit: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am!

Charles: I know I should be focused on the fact you just came out, BUT HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

Arei: *Jumps in front of the object Rose is painting* Ha! I jumped in front of your picture, now it’s ruined!

Rose: Arei, this isn’t a photograph. I’m not going to just paint you into my—

Rose: *Realizes she painted Arei onto her canvas* Aw sh—

Eden: *Eating a cinnamon roll*

The Fandom: …Cannibalism.

Eden: *Confused chewing noises*

Arei: Ugh, there’s always that one weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder.

Arei: *Glares at J*

J: Well, sorry I have morals!

Ace: I’m proud to say I’ve overcome my fear of ghosts!

Levi: Ah, that’s the spirit!

Ace, jumping into his arms: WHERE?!?

Arturo: Veronika…Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Veronika: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Arturo:

Arturo: I wrote sanitize, Veronika.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten

January is long, and February, somehow even longer. It brings with it the kind of biting cold winds that make my face hurt and indignance rise inside me at the injustice of having to be outside in it. I try to manoeuvre my useless fingerless gloves over my knuckles as though they might provide even the tiniest bit of extra heat to my hands, but it’s already too late. I’ve let the cold invade, and by now there’s nothing I can do to prevent the cold spasms that rip through to my bones. 

It is five in the evening. I’ve been here since the morning, once Simon reluctantly allowed me to take a day of work away from the studio, but it’s been relentlessly cold since I arrived. The sun will set in an hour from now and I will lose the light, so I forge on anyway, tracing a careful line with the nozzle of the spray paint along the brick at the gable end of the bookshop that commissioned me. It is my first mural on a building, not a window, but nobody seemed to doubt my ability to do it when they approached me. Nobody except for me, and while I didn’t express it, I doubted it, and I still doubt it, even now. 

 I reach around at my feet for the cherry red paint can and rattle it before spraying a wide, confident arc across the brick. Does it look good? Does any of this look good? I’ve been nose to nose with it for so many hours now that I can hardly even tell what it is. The paint stains my finger tip red. Just about every inch of me must be dusted with paint at this point, as the wind has been blowing it back on me in clouds and leaving speckles all over my skin and clothes. I eye the streak of teal paint that has run down the side of my middle finger and dried there, and I silently curse at it, knowing how badly it will stain as I pull my vibrating phone from my pocket. 

Don’t suppose you’re free for a call tonight? 

I wish. I’m never free anymore. 

Sorry, I have a date at the medieval torture chamber. 

Gym with Shane?

Yep. 

And in those rare times that I am, Jude isn’t. We’ve been missing each other for weeks, like trains passing on the tracks, what with my work, the increase in commissions, more cards to design, I’ve been finding myself cooped up in the studio until late into the evening sometimes. And Jude, he’s working hard on his final projects. He spends as much time in his studio as I do. Sometimes the only meaningful correspondence I’ll get from him in a given week is a photograph of whatever modernist chunk of plaster or clay he’s working on lately, and this week is shaping up to be another just like that, only I’ll be the one sending some hasty close up of a few swipes of paint and trying to convince him that I’m getting paid to do this. 

We haven’t caught up in so long.

I like to imagine that he’s desperately sad about this fact, miserable and missing me terribly, when in fact he’s probably just bored at home again, Jonas likely out somewhere without him and whatever silly movie he’s put on the television has stopped being entertaining. 

At this rate I won’t see you until I come over.

Yeah, what the hell. How have we not spoken in over a month?

Probably because I hate you and I’m avoiding you. 😉 We’ll have a proper catch up in Berlin. 

He sends me a crocodile emoji, which has become our private code for “goodbye” as in, “See you later, alligator”. I type one back and get on with what I was doing, and paint another broad, sweeping line in that delicious cherry red paint. I last ten more minutes without an interruption, and there is a voice from behind me. 

“Well.”

I whirl around. “Ugh, hi Shane.”

“Delighted to see me, are you?”

“Honestly it’s a bit like a bad omen when you appear.”

I yank my protective mask from my mouth while he huffs out a laugh. “Ready for the gym?” I groan in protest, but I gather my things anyway, stacking all of the spray paint bottles into a giant canvas bag and rolling up the tarp. We stop by Mezzotint to store all of it in the studio and let me change out of my painty clothes in the employee bathroom and then we take the Luas into town to the gym. 

Shane decides to show me mercy, and lets me spend our session in the pool, so while he heads to the gym and does his usual routine, I swim lengths of the fast lane and keep strict count of the number so that I can brag about it when he comes to use the health suite. I reached a point suddenly, a month or two ago, where my lungs and limbs didn’t burn so badly during my swimming lessons, and in fact, despite the inevitable dread that the gym instils in me, once I’m actually in the pool I find myself enjoying it. I swim to the end, turn and come back, over and over as the smooth hands on the big clock rotate, and finally I anchor myself to the lip of the pool as Shane crouches in front of me, hair wet from the shower. 

“How many?” He wants to know. 

“Sixty lengths.”

“Many breaks?”

“None.”

He nods with approval and says “good stuff.” Which is the highest compliment available. I struggle out onto the tiles with trembling arms and follow him to the health suite sauna where we sit, ragged breaths, and the water that rolls off our bodies dissolves into mist as it drips onto the benches. 

“How’s college?” I say. 

“Grand.”

“Full on now, I’d say, is it? With the final exams kind of looming on the horizon a bit.”

He shrugs. “I dunno, I suppose so.” 

Shane did not fail his Christmas exams. He didn’t pass them with flying colours by any means but Shane being Shane, has never once done poorly at anything he has attempted. As far as I know he has never failed a test, and it’s evident by now that it’s not for lack of trying. The final exams are Claire’s newest worry, as she’s convinced he’s yet to open a single textbook. 

“And the football?” I venture, and watch as his shoulders slump. “It’s good, it’s busy and all. I dunno. I’ve a few things to kind of think about in terms of it. You know, like, some things to consider.”

I nod. “Must be tricky to balance it all, like what with the training and college and all. I can’t imagine how hard it is.”

He glances at me with a furrowed brow as though what I’ve just said has nothing to do with what he was talking about, but he throws me a consolatory “Yeah.” anyway, clearly not bothered to explain what he meant. 

“Pity you can’t come to Berlin.” I pivot. “It’d be nice if you were there, like, I know you’ve visited before and all, but I think it’ve been a fun friends thing to do altogether. Not often we all get to hang out now that we’re so busy.”

“Nice for Claire to have time away on her own though.” He says. “I think a bit of distance would do her good, a bit of space.” and I wonder if he means from Dublin or from him. 

“I’m a bit nervous to go.” I admit, which prompts him to look right at me for the first time since we came inside. “Why?”

“I’m not sure, I suppose it’s been years since I’ve been out of Ireland, like, been in a different country with a different language and… like, I dunno I suppose I’m nervous to be around Jude and all his friends.”

“They’re just more of the typical artist types, nothing to get that excited about.” He eyes me for a moment before adding “They’re not going to think you’re uncool, or whatever it is that you’re worrying about. Nobody cares about that type of thing except for you.”

“I don’t care if they think I’m uncool.” I lie defensively. 

“Right. So is it about Astrid then? Do you think she’s going to tear you a new one?”

I stare at him, startled. “What are you on about?”

“Astrid, like.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He rolls his eyes and gets up, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “I’m sure you don’t, Evie, you fecking dope.” He says, and then pushes his way out into the cool air of the poolside. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[madisonmontgomeryimagines]

shamelessly begging for a part 3 of the madison and brooke story 💗💗💗💗

It was difficult to judge how much time was passing, something about being surrounded by tall canvas and well-dressed people sipping wine made the moments simultaneously bleed together and stretch out. You were hungry, you knew that much, but you had been a little hungry already when you discovered Montana's surprise for you. Still, this seemed like a big deal and you weren't about to ruin it for Madison by asking to duck out.

Sweeping your gaze around the room, you found her blonde mane, her head close to one of the photographer's as she said something you were too far away to hazard a guess at. Brooke's feather-light touch at your elbow coaxed your attention to her, and as you took a moment to study her features, a new realization struck you.

Was Brooke afraid of something?

Maybe afraid was too strong a word, but she definitely seemed on edge, her jaw tense and smile not quite reaching her eyes. Her lips parted, likely to ask you something, but your words tumbled out first.

"Are you okay?"

Brooke blinked owlishly at you, caught a little off guard, but granting you a weary smile. "Yeah, just thought I saw someone I knew. I was wrong though," she shook her head and took a second to glance at Madison herself. "Come on, you can help me pick where we'll eat after this. The star won't accept anywhere that doesn't need a reservation, so we should start looking soon." Her eyes rolled playfully, but there was no bite to her words.

Something nagging in the back of your head told you she needed the distraction as she took a sip from her glass. "Of course," you agreed, your fingers brushing hers as you took the phone she held to examine the map of options. "How long have you and Madison known each other?"

A little hum sounded as Brooke considered your question. "Going on three years now, about. Lived together for two of them. During the first year I really thought we might kill each other, but once you get used to her she's... I don't want to say sweet but she does have her moments."

[soul-likeasecretinyourthroat]

Me and a group of friends went to emo nite at the rave last night and it was so fun! I got to do my friends makeup too!!!! O’s dads pretty funny, he held O’s face while I put on the first layer of eyeshadow because he wouldn’t stop talking lmao. I really like his parents, they are pretty cool people. He was a very good canvas tbh, he didn’t flinch and was patient with me too :) Once I was done with his makeup, his parents said he looked like Robert smith from the cure, and I fully agree with them! O looked so cool in the black eyeshadow, and it really was a trip for me to see him in it <3

After that, we left to go pick up 3 more ppl. A couple, B and R, who killed it with their outfits! The bf (B) wore a leather skirt, knee high leather stiletto heels, and some sort of tshirt (which under he borrowed his gf’s bra to complete this almost-drag look). The gf (R) dressed to the 9s in emo attire, rocking the mcr tshirt and fishnets. Me n Him were Shocked to say the least when B walked out of his garage like that lmao it was insane, very proud of him!

Then we went to go pick up M, and she wore her homecoming dress and a cute jacket, it was pretty scene inspired for her inspo, and she killed it!!!!

Me and O forgot to eat before picking ppl up, so we stopped at chipotle for food in our full emo regalia. Imagine just 5 of the most emo teens you’ve ever seen, and put them in the most suburban chipotle Ever, we stood out like a sore thumb! It was honestly really freeing to just like wear my outfit in public because it was so emo and I consider myself diet emo on the best days so I was happy. We got so many confused looks but I didn’t care, I was hanging out with the people I loved :)

After chipotle, I drove us (on the freeway!!!) downtown to the venue, and got parking right across the street! Then I started to do B and R’s emo makeup per their requests, and both of them have cool bone structures and I loooove doing peoples makeup fr it’s so much fun!!!!

O had a surprise tho, he brought with a second shirt that he wore, that he didn’t want his parents to see >:) it was a black, lacy, long sleeved button up with a flowery design on it, it was very sheer so he wore a white tank top underneath. We all looked so sexy fr, like omg

We got inside at 9pm, but it apparently didn’t start til 10:30, which was said nowhere lol. All good tho, us 5 got to hang out for a while anyway so it was fun!

Once the set started by the emo nite dj, the room got so fucking hot like I was melting in my thick tshirt, but I only had on a fishnet long sleeve top that barely reached my collarbones and a bra, and no way was I gonna be showing my assets for free (at least not to the 30 year old crowd of millennials there lol)! O got hot, so he took off the tank top he had on underneath the sheer shirt he had on, and he offered it to me to wear so I wouldn’t be so hot! Dude I like him so much he doesn’t even know fr like (I’m so down bad for him) anyway I change in a bathroom into the tank top and put the fishnet shirt over it, it was a very cool outfit ngl, and thank god I wore a nice bra and not an old one, because I would’ve cried if it looked gross infront of him fr

We all were dancing and having fun, and then O has the great idea of getting up and dancing on the stage, and me and M were like ofc that sounds like fun! We managed to get on stage and we were dancing and singing so much, the photographer took several photos of us together in the cool lights on the stage, they will hopefully be put on the www soon so I can see them! I love candid photos and I wanna see how I look in candids as well :)

I was really trying to be flirty with him (O) last night, and i was dancing really close to him, like within a few inches of him. I love to see him dance, when he dances with his arms above his head and moves so fast, it’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away. Whenever songs came on that had lyrics about love, I would purposefully get his attention and make him look at me scream-singing along to them, hopefully he caught a hint PLEASE! I twirled him like a pretty princess, and that made me get a stupid smile on my face :)

The concert got done at like 1 in the morning, and while we were walking back to where I had parked my car, O said that he wish he could’ve gotten any hot goth girl’s Snapchat, and I casually said “Omg what about me? Aren’t I got enough for you???” And he was mad blushing after that comment, hopefully that signaled to him how I felt maybe? We stopped at a kwik trip gas station to refuel and for a late night snack, and it was again very comical to see 5 emo kids in a gas station in a suburban area at 1:20 in the morning lol.

I dropped M off first, I thanked her for coming with and she thanked me for taking her lol.

Then, O got in the passenger seat and started playing music on my phone that was connected to Bluetooth! He played the full album of “Good God!” By rio romeo, which if you don’t know rio’s work is very romantic and like sappy songs. We both knew all the words to the whole album, and R and B were in the backseat giving each other looks and stuff, I’m pretty sure they think that O and I are dating, and I really hope that O knew that too >:)

We then dropped off B and R, said our goodbyes, and we went on the way back to O’s house. We kept playing the album, even if it restarted once or twice. Before we turned into his drive way, he changed back into his tshirt he left in. The moonlight reflected off of his skin beautifully, and it caught in his eyes which shone like jewels. We were talking about how much fun we had, and then we got to his house, His sister was waiting at the front door to let him in, since it was 3 am everyone else had long since been asleep. I told him that we should hang out again asap, and that I was really happy that he came with tonight even though he doesn’t know a ton of emo songs. He said he had a lot of fun too, and told me to be careful on the roads and go like 20mph because of all the deer on the road wandering. I said I promise I’ll go slow, and I would text him when I got home to let him know I was safe :) I watched as he walked down the long driveway into his house, he almost was skipping inside. I kept the album playing. I started my way back home. I regret not making a move on him, I really do. I don’t know how much longer I can survive without knowing that he might like me back. He’s so beautiful and sweet, his eyelashes are so long they touch his brow-bones, his off white teeth are the same shade as mine, those blue eyes that ensnare my gaze whenever I turn to look at him, the way his face moves when he smiles, the crinkles next to his eyes, the way his hair falls on his head, his nose is just perfect, his body covered in small freckles like a strawberry, and his voice that makes me weak in the knees and could tell me to do anything at all and I would no hesitation. (I want to hear him make noises that I didn’t know he could make, and daydream about what he would sound like, and how I can get him to make those types of sounds >:3 )

Sorry for the sappy rant, I have feelings for him that I’ve never felt for anyone else before ever. I’m just a teenager hoping that their crush likes them back.

Anyway, on my drive home (15 mins) I was tearing up over the fact that I already missed him, and how I wish I could go be at his side forever, maybe fall asleep on his basement couch next to each other while watching a studio ghibli movie or live-streaming an symphony orchestra playing. I got home around 3:30, talked to my mom for a bit, let everyone know that I got home safe, and ate half a pizza. I went to bed around 4am, but I could barely fall asleep even though I was exhausted because I couldn’t get him off my mind long enough to fall asleep lol

I need to be straightforward with him about how I feel. I’m currently writing down these tumblr posts about him in a physical notebook, that after I tell him how I feel, I can give it to him and show him how long I’ve felt like this for him, and some of my most favorite memories I’ve made :) I’m such a romantic it kills me.

Ok I gotta go to bed now it’s 1:30 am.. I’ll be back hopefully soon with an update concerning mine and his relationship >:) wish me luck!!!

[reixtsu]

Reixtsu- Dialogue Prompts Part 1

This is my list of dialogue prompts for any future requests! Feel free to use some of these with credit!

Part 2: here

"Ah. As expected. I don't like your smell. I've always been disgusted by the odor of others. Yet I'm fine with the odor of yours."

"I might as well take you away so that way we can live in comfort."

"But…we're married?" "Not behind closed doors."

"Dumbass. Don't you see that I'm trying?"

"This is real life! You don't get to restart when you make a mistake!"

"Sure sure. I'm assuming blowing up the building was an accident too."

"You have the audacity to wake me up and not actually die."

"That's because of my complete and utter failure of being a well-mannered functioning member of society."

"Looks like I'm going to liar's jail."

"The horny people shouldn't go to jail with other horny people."

"You were just an experiment."

"If you want to see explosions, you're talking to the wrong person."

"Please! I don't have a kid!" "Why would I care if you've reproduced?"

"This is why we can't have nice things."

"I have nightmares all the time, so I stay awake."

"Oh my darling. What a mess you've made out of me."

"I count my gain in blood and pain."

"Nothing was nice, but I lived every minute."

"I accept you and I don't even know your reasons."

"You've gotten yourself into quite the mess. Aren't I enough trouble for you, darling?"

"How long have you been standing there?" "Longer than you'd like."

"I don't know what my plans are, but I'm pretty sure it didn't include a migraine like you."

"Shrouded in mystery and ready to die- I knew we were destined partners."

"You know…that's not what an apology sounds like." "Bite me."

"This is not the time for you to be questioning my career choices."

"Can you not talk about ____ the same way you talk about ____?"

"If you were a pokemon, I'd choose you."

"Is your ego really that big?"

"Add me, subject him, multiply your feeling and divide love."

"You're the only fangirl I'd date."

“The masculine urge to not act past 18.”

“Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?”

“I wanna be spoiled by an older woman.”

“You’re like snow. Beautiful but cold.”

“He immediately wants to go home.”

“Are you guys in heat or something?”

“What the hell? A slut appeared out of nowhere!”

“Your voice is my favorite sound.”

“That info was hella unnecessary.” 

“I don't feel like associating myself with your cheap drama.”

“He really is the biggest piece of shit there ever was. It turns me on a tad.”

“You must be an expert in geometry, because you've got all the right angles.”

“If you were a structure, you'd be a masterpiece of modern art.”

“Are you a blueprint? Because you've got my plans all laid out.

“I must be a sketch, because I can't seem to erase you from my mind.”

“I'm not a photographer, but I can definitely picture us together.”

“If you were a hypothesis, you'd be the one I'd want to test endlessly.”

“I must be an open book because your intuitive mind seems to read me effortlessly.”

“Are you a puzzle? Because you make my complex thoughts fit together perfectly.”

“If life were a theory, you'd be my favorite variable to explore.”

“In the grand symphony of life, meeting you was the sweetest note.”

“Your love is the poetry my heart has been trying to write.”

“If love were a canvas, every moment with you would be a stroke of pure art.”

“In the dance of time, you are the graceful waltz that makes every step meaningful.”

“You're not just my sunshine; you're the warmth that colors my entire world.”

“Mon amour, tu es la lumière de ma vie. (My love, you are the light of my life.)”

“Dans tes yeux, je trouve le ciel étoilé. (In your eyes, I find the starry sky.)”

“Ton sourire illumine même les jours les plus sombres. (Your smile brightens even the darkest days.)”

“Mon cœur bat au rythme de ta voix. (My heart beats to the rhythm of your voice.)”

“À tes côtés, chaque moment est une éternité. (By your side, every moment is an eternity.)”

“あなたは私の心の花です。 (Anata wa watashi no kokoro no hana desu.) Translation: You are the flower in my heart.”

“あなたと一緒にいると、時間が止まったような気分です。 (Anata to issho ni iru to, jikan ga tomatta youna kibun desu.) Translation: When I'm with you, it feels like time stands still.”

“あなたの微笑みは、私の一日を輝かせます。 (Anata no hohoemi wa, watashi no ichinichi o kagayakasemasu.) Translation: Your smile brightens up my day.”

“あなたと過ごす時間は、宝物のようです。 (Anata to sugosu jikan wa, takaramono no you desu.) Translation: The time spent with you feels like a treasure.”

“あなたの愛が私を幸せにします。 (Anata no ai ga watashi o shiawase ni shimasu.) Translation: Your love makes me happy.”

“有你的陪伴，时间变得如此美好。 (Yǒu nǐ de péibàn, shíjiān biàn dé rúcǐ měihǎo.) Translation: With you by my side, time becomes so beautiful.”

“你的微笑如阳光般温暖。 (Nǐ de wēixiào rú yángguāng bān wēnnuǎn.) Translation: Your smile is as warm as sunshine.”

“和你在一起的时光是我最珍贵的宝藏。 (Hé nǐ zài yīqǐ de shíguāng shì wǒ zuì zhēnguì de bǎozàng.) Translation: The time spent with you is my most precious treasure.”

“If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity of mischief.”

“Is it hot in here, or is that just the effect you have on me?”

“I must be a snowflake, because I've fallen for you, and I'm one-of-a-kind.”

“Are you a map? Because I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

“If laughter is the best medicine, your smile must be a prescription.”

“Your laughter is like a melody I could listen to all day.”

“There's something about the way you look at me that makes my heart race.”

“BARKBARKBARKBARKAHSJCIKKKAHHHHAHHAMEOWAJCNNABB”  “You need medical attention.”

“Your presence alone is enough to brighten my day.”

“The way you carry yourself is incredibly captivating.”

“I love the way your mind works – it's as intriguing as it is attractive.”

“Your confidence is magnetic; I can't help but be drawn to it.”

“The way you express yourself is a unique kind of beautiful.”

“I find myself smiling whenever I think of you.”

“There's a certain charm in the way you make even ordinary moments extraordinary.”

“Your intelligence is not only impressive but incredibly appealing.”

“I appreciate how you always manage to make the mundane feel extraordinary.”

“Your passion for [insert interest or hobby] is incredibly attractive.”

“I love the way you carry yourself with a perfect blend of confidence and humility.”

[spookychick78]

Final Girl

Dust In The Wind

Michael Myers X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,562

He was afraid to move from the shadows. For the first time he felt truly weakened as if movement would cause him to unravel piece by piece. His hands touched the bullet wounds, which had already lost their sting. Physically, he no longer felt his wounds. His pain was not external, it was something he had never experienced. His insides twisted and churned in a brutal way. A heaviness weighed hard in his chest and spread to his stomach. It was as though each part of him was decaying rapidly the longer he stared at the empty street. It was a hunger he didn't know if he would ever be able to satiate without her. He longed for the physical pain. That would have been easier to mend. His fingers pulled on the still open wound and his blood turned the blue cloth around it black. Still, nothing. It didn't compare to nor distract him from the permanent wound she had left behind.

The light was returning to the skies above him and he knew he would have to force his limbs to move. Each step was a concerted effort, his heart was fighting him each time his footfall strayed farther away from his place in the shadows. He did his best to ignore its obnoxious pleas to wait for her. He knew she wasn't coming back. Perhaps she was physically alive, but she no longer lived as she was. Death wasn't even something he knew how to mourn, so how would he have known how to grieve this? His body was no longer running on predator instinct. He began to think she had caused him to devolve. His mind had been a blank canvas before, occasionally painted with the blood of his victims. Black and white in a sense. He needed nothing and he wanted for nothing. It was easy to satisfy bloodlust, but now she had taken that canvas for herself. She had tattooed herself inside the deepest part of him. She was permanently in him and permanently unobtainable at the same time. He wanted to hate her for it and hated that he couldn't. Though her betrayal had cut him deeper, burned him worse than he ever had been before, the idea of hating her proved to be more hurtful.

The farmhouse, what had been their home, slowly came into view. He had hoped maybe it would bring him comfort to be where she had loved him to the fullest, but his fists clenched tightly at the memories. Still, he walked closer. He was determined to fight this agony, kill it. Standing where she stood was a daunting feat, but he followed her memory as if her ghost was guiding him. His breathing became labored as he neared the porch and the aching intensified. He could almost see her, but he couldn't quite reach her. This trick his mind was playing on him was quickly igniting a rage even he hadn't felt before. He moved past the mist like images of where they had stood and went through the open doorframe. The leaves she had cleared out had returned to the floor of the front room. Ashes littered the area by the fireplace where they had once sat. Ghosts lingered there too, he could see her head resting on his shoulder, but when the wind rushed in, her form joined the ashes on the ground. That heaviness within him was spreading throughout the empty house, as if it was aching for her presence as well. He turned towards the hallway where he tried to remember what those photographs his mind had created of them looked like. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see them. They refused to appear to him. Leaves went before him as he walked to the room he dreaded the most. He forced himself in. He saw it as it had been in his dream. He saw himself holding her, her body draped in that dress he wanted so badly to give to her. Her face was as it should have been. She was at peace and she was with him. His hands held her face gently as if she would crumble in his grasp and he carefully let his forehead rest on hers. His senses became filled with her essence, he could see it engulfing him, intertwining with what little of himself he had left. She lifted her lips to his and he watched as she took everything. With one kiss, she had taken his entire being. She spread like fire throughout him, reducing him to nothing but ash with her. He could feel his palms bleeding and begging his fists to unclench, but he pressed deeper. He was decaying with her now. The fire was dying and their images were fading fast. She was killing him all over again, but in a way that she hadn't understood she was. He had died in so many different ways because of her. He no longer knew who he was or what he was. She had given life to a part of him he wasn't aware existed and then taken it from him so swiftly. Or maybe it was still there and that's why he hurt in such an unknown way. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted it to stop. He did the only thing he knew how to do. His hands swiped away at the phantom only to land on the bed frame. Pain shot through his fists and he responded by ripping the wooden knob off the nails that had held it in place. It crashed through the window and the sound of glass breaking filled the house. Nothing was left untouched. He had thought forgetting her would kill him, but remembering every moment, every touch and to know it was all for nothing was worse. It was a punishment he didn't deserve.

He left the house in a worse state than it was before. It was utterly destroyed. The curtains that had once covered her bare skin were ripped to shreds, the bed destroyed. Any evidence that it was their home for a time was gone. He strode through the door into the fog that was settling around the area. It clung to him as he put distance between the property and himself. His work was done there, but he wasn't satisfied. Breaking walls or mirrors wasn't enough. He needed to find himself again. He needed to kill.

Nearby lay an unfortunate soul unaware of the trauma Michael was about to inflict on him. He was homeless, a drifter, exactly what the Shape needed. He wanted to remind himself what real pain looked like and that he was the one who dealt it. His footsteps weren't nearly as quiet as they usually were and the man began to stir as he approached. His eyes widened with fear as Michael descended upon him with his bare hands. The man scratched at the massive hand that gripped his throat mercilessly, but to no avail. He was lifted off of his feet and as he looked down at his attacker he tried to scream. Michael's hand began to squeeze tighter and tighter. He wanted to break him as he had been broken. The man's life began to fade from his eyes and what should have been satisfaction washing over Michael was instead guilt. He saw what she had done, what he had tried to stop. He saw those eyes again. Lifeless, tainted. He saw her. He wanted to scream.

Just before the man slipped away, Michael released him. He fell to the ground with a thud, gasping as air filled his lungs again. The Shape stood there for a moment and watched as the man regained his strength and scrambled to his feet. His eyes were frightened and confused as Michael stood deadly still before him. Once he realized he would indeed survive this strange encounter, he ran. The Shape didn't move. He watched him disappear into the forest. He had no desire left in him to hunt. He knew it wouldn't do anything to fix it. He accepted his defeat. Now she had truly killed him, this was his death. He waited until night had fallen to return to the only place he knew to go. It welcomed him as it always did, but this time he knew he wasn't going to leave. His home was once again filled with his masked breathing, it had once been a comforting sound to him. This time, he had no desire to go to the window. He went to Judith's room to join her. He had died so many times he wasn't quite sure how to make it permanent, but he was a patient man, he could wait. Perhaps starving himself of other's lives would return him to a mortal state and death would seek him out once and for all. He wasn't going to be haunted by her for eternity. He would starve here if he had to. He rested his body on the dilapidated bed and gazed up at the ceiling. He might as well have closed his eyes, the darkness that hung about the room was all consuming. He let it surround him. Perhaps the Myers' house could finally claim it's last victim.

[catierambles]

Public Relations Ch.13

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)

WC 853

Warnings: None

@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888 , @peaches1958 , @brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme

The guys from the automotive segment of the Planet did eventually come around to do that interview once the acquisition was made public and Clark stood off to the side in her workshop as they talked. His eyes kept going to the car covered with a canvas tarp in the corner, a different car, a 1967 Pontiac Tempest with its engine ripped out and in pieces on the lift that was sat flush with the floor.

“Clark!” He heard and looked at her and away from the covered car. “I can see the wheels turning! Don’t even think about it!”

“I wasn’t--!”

“Oh, yes you were!” She said, “No peeking, Mister!” He just held his hands up in defeat, the interaction making the other guys laugh.

“So, Charlotte,” One asked, “Are you always working on a project?”

“More or less, I don’t go sweaty on a new one, but I like to tinker.” She said.

“Your garage up front isn’t that big.” Another pointed out, “What do you do with the overflow?”

“When I start running out of room, I choose ones to auction off and then donate one hundred percent of the proceeds to charity.” She said, “There are ones that are never considered, however, like the GTO and the Chevelle, but the others are fair game.”

“I didn’t know you did that.” Clark said and she nodded at him.

“Might need to soon, actually. Once the Tempest is done, I’m going to need the space.” Charlotte said.

“What about your mystery project?” One asked, pointing at it briefly.

“If I get it done up to my standards in time, it won’t be here.” She said.

“In time for what? And where will it be?”

“That would be telling.” She said, giving them a mysterious smile.

“Okay, let’s go ahead and get some shots of the cars up front as well as some B shots of Ms. Danvers working on the Tempest.” Once those were done, the photographer walked around the workshop, taking pictures of her from various angles of her working on the engine.

“Hey, sweety.” She said, not looking up from it. “While you’re over there, can you get me the thingy?”

“The thingy?” Clark asked, looking at the wall of tools she was pointing at.

“Yeah, the thingamajob.” She said, “Three-eighths if you could please.” Looking at the tools, he pulled one from the wall and turned, wiggling it in the air slightly and she smiled. “That’s why we’re so good together. You speak my language.” He crossed the workshop and handed it to her with a smile. “Gimme kiss.” He did, well aware that that had probably been photographed too, going back to lean against the low drawers against the wall.

“You’re a lucky man, Clark.” He looked over briefly next to him before nodding, turning his eyes back on Charlotte as she resumed working on the engine, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I am.” He said, smiling softly.

“So,” One asked, “When are you two getting married?” There was a chunking sound as the wrench slipped and Charlotte gave a small, nervous laugh.

“We actually haven’t talked about that at all.” She said.

“What about kids?”

“One step at a time, please.” She said, her voice strained somewhat. “We haven’t been living together that long and um…yeah, one step at a time.” She looked at Clark, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Looking at you like what?” Clark asked with a small grin.

“Like you’re picturing me pregnant.” She said, “Knock it off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was a nice image.

“Don’t mistake me, I’m not adverse to the idea of marriage and kids, it’s just my life is so busy and I…” She paused, “One step at a time.”

“Charlie,” Clark started, “What’re you doing for Christmas?”

“Christmas?” She asked, looking up at him and he nodded. “We have the Danvers Christmas party in the middle of the month, but as for the day itself, I usually just hang out here. Why?”

“I go home for Christmas every year, spend it with my mom. Why don’t you come with me this year?”

“You want me to spend Christmas with you and your mom?” She asked and he nodded, “I mean, yeah, I’d love to. We can take the jet. Save ourselves from holiday airport hell.”

“I’ll let her know you’re coming with me next time I talk to her.”

“Smallville, Kansas, right?” She asked and he nodded. “Yeah, that’s doable.”

“You don’t spend it with your family?” One of the guys asked.

“I don’t have any family, no blood family anyway.” She said simply, her voice completely devoid of emotion, and Clark looked down.

“All right,” The photographer said, “I think I’m good. Got a lot of good shots here.”

“Awesome, thank you so much for your time, Charlotte.” She looked up at him with a smile.

“Yeah, no problem. Can’t wait to read the finished product.”

“I’ll walk you guys out.” Clark said, pushing away from the drawers and they left the workshop.

[putadelilith]

Horror Prompt: You decide to get away from it for a few hours and go picnic for lunch out in a field. it’s broad daylight and you consume. but the field is consuming you too.

You slice your finger on a broken jar of jam. Packing a whole charcuterie board of cheese, cured meat, and sweets felt excessive to say the least. You thought it necessary to do so. Try something different for once.

Nothing seemed to be working quite right. From overworked parents to high-strung friends, your problems seemed minimal. You made the decision to work alone. Secluded at a year-long residency doing, well, nothing. Inspiration hasn’t hit you since you touched the older grounds here. The residency felt all too desolate. Empty of personality. Void of personhood. It was a perpetually blank canvas you never wished to capture through a lens.

‘It all looked so much better in the photos,’ you thought.

But the intent was to build a reliable network for freelance work as a photographer. Your job was just taking pictures— at least— that’s what other’s assumed. There was no reason to let the new surroundings get to you.

So, you searched up a tutorial for making charcuterie boards, grabbed your thickest blanket, and turned off your phone. The thought of bringing a camera along made you sick. You bandaged your wound and went on your walk.

The trek to the park wasn’t treacherous. In fact, it was all too easy given the desire path leading towards busy picnic tables. Populated with locals and other artists. Normally, you wouldn’t mind socializing with everyone else but the pressure of living here plus being a creative genius like the others was too great.

Your chest squeezes. Feet planted into the ground, gripping your basket with nerves buzzing wildly. You shake your head and your eyes land on a not so popular pathway. You make a steady dash over to the bushes.

A glimpse of yellow wildflowers sprinkled through an empty field came into view just over the brush. The sun shimmered over the sage green grass. It was charming to say the least and completely quiet. Plus, it wasn’t so far off from the others you couldn’t call for help. Just in case of… who are you kidding? You were more likely of being kicked out of residency than being killed in plain sight. You preferred the latter over the former.

You spread your blanket on the ground and your basket right after. It felt good to be in the moment. The fresh air and silence would be enough to refresh the creativity you’ve been missing.

You take in the sight and thank your lucky stars for not having to go far. Just a few steps beyond the house. You lay on your back for a minute to watch the clouds, but your eyes land on the petrified tick dangling from a wildflower petal. Immediately, you feel your skin crawl and sit up to get started on your board.

The arrangement you learned wasn’t complex but it was visually pleasing. Nice to look at. Pleasant to eat. You pop a cracker into your mouth then pour glass of wine. You lean back against your hand and watch the clouds. The cut on your finger begins to throb. You change your grip on the glass and it worsens.

You sit up again to check your finger. It’s bleeding again. Again? You just stopped the blood. Did you though? You’re no doctor. You don’t really know what the fuck you did, but the determination to leave made more sense than a wasted hospital visit.

The blood soaks through. You remove your bandage to stop the blood one more time. You, thankfully, kept spares in your pocket and made sure to stop the bleeding before bandaging before. You knew better than to litter but what you witnessed was odd. The trash you knew would fly into the gentle breeze didn’t move. But your bandage did. The gauze you used to stop the blood did. It belonged to the field now.

You feel a thick crawling up your throat. You decide to shake off whatever conspiracy level paranoia wanted to make of your relaxing day. You feel ungrateful. Here you were. Outside under the autumn sun where it was warm and the breeze was cool. Perched on a thick woven blanket you grabbed on a road trip years ago. Sipping on cheap, but refreshing red wine. Smearing soft cheese on a cracker. This was picturesque. A moment you’re meant to soak in. But like a scared dog, your hackles are raised with your hair standing on end.

A tremor in the belly snaps you out of your senses. You shift in position. Now determined to decorate your charcuterie board. After few minutes, you start to get into the pattern you made on the board and set your half-drunk wine glass aside it. You take in the sight again. A soft smile graces your face.

A soft and loud ‘hey’ reaches you. Your head swivels in the direction of the sound then around you. It was very obvious you were alone. The shout came from the other side of the brush where the picnic tables were. Your mind wanders into a bitter state.

Everyone else seemed make deeper connections with the residents here, managing to get offers in higher places. You felt foreign. Something to be enjoyed, but purged after. Your mind goes back to the wine-tasting orientation when you first arrived.

How the group you came with chatted you up and you foolishly believed this time would be different. Everyone seemed to like you or wanted to be acquainted with you. You made jokes that made them laugh, asked about themselves. Put in effort to listen to details. They were interesting people interested in you and still talk to you now, but always run off with someone else. Invite someone else to lunch or drinks or just converse. Everyone blended in but you. Spitting out into buckets to cleanse their palette and move on to the next best thing.

You made sure to put on the dress you’ve been dying to wear. You even splurged on a Moncler coat. What were you doing wrong? The truth is you did nothing wrong. People had their own interests and goals to seek out. Not you alone. So what the fuck was your problem?

You realize you’ve been staring in the direction of the tables for too long. Your board was starting to sweat. Interestingly enough, no bugs were harassing you for your food. But the attention you placed on the tables was important. The whole time you walked here, you could hear the chatter and laughter and acceptance of them. In the field, you couldn’t. It was completely silent. An island. A paradise with no sound. The breeze touched you, but the rustling leaves were muted.

The truth is you didn’t want to be here. Not in this field. Not away from people. You came to connect. You were connecting but it wasn’t enough. Inspiration became lost to you the moment you set foot here impressing people in khaki shorts. Taking pictures. You could take pictures anywhere. You were good at it. That’s why you made it in with a bunch of college grads while all you could afford was Moncler on layaway. You came here because you thought it would legitimize you. Help you break into a place where black women like you weren’t allowed.

But really, deep down, you wanted acceptance. To be loved. For your talent. For your beauty. For you. All the jealousy and rage you bottled up over the years, couldn’t be directed into your love life. Your social life in general. There were lighter girls, prettier girls with straight hair and thin noses. You pushed it all onto career success. You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole after a thought like this.

All the success you chased and achieved. Your family was proud you dared to be different. You didn’t limit yourself— you were physically incapable of ever doing so. But all the striving and fighting to be in higher places came from not feeling desired in the ones you were already in.

You were foreign to your own environment. You were un-consumable. Whether you were medicine or poison depended on the person. It made you sick knowing you were treated like solely poison.

Surroundings whirled and spun around you. Pale greens grew richer in tone and color. Those yellow wildflowers you spotted turned a rich indigo. Muted sounds now vibrant. Tick still petrified, but the crawling on your hand forced you to look down. A black widow crawled across the hand that propped you up. You stayed still to let her pass.

The breath you gave was the breath the field took. The blood you spilled, the field drank. The stress you relieved, it took.

You stood leaving the picnic you set up behind. Wine and all. You had no intention of ever coming back. You would return to your room, pack your bags, and pocket your stipend to leave. Not to return home, but to find a new one.

A home will give to you just as the field did. Like you did.

Author’s Note: Hey girl heyyyy!💖 I came up with this prompt a few days back for my friend @jaythajujubae but I liked the concept so much I wanted to play with it myself. Took me a min to come up with something good. So here she is! If you wanna use this prompt, remember to credit/tag me! XOXO

[rfaromance]

my shadows (s)wallow in your light

"I'm right here. Hey, listen. Can you hear me? I'm here."

The young man's words fell on deaf ears. No matter how he called out, no matter whether he spoke to her urgently or gently, loudly or softly, swiftly or slowly, Jihyun's words would not reach her.

A wall separated her mind and heart from the rest of the world right now, or perhaps more accurately a dome.

And no matter how she tried to slam into the sides of that malicious snowglobe, to scream and break the thick walls that trapped her, she would only see her own horrified reflection as toxic "snow" fell around her.

As her fears, her blood, her tears, all swirled around her like acid rain.

Another agonized cry left the blonde woman's lips, and she slammed her fists into the mattress again and again.

"Rika. Rika. Please hear me. Please listen."

Did he think adding politeness to his desperate pleas would somehow help them reach her? He knew that he had no control over her breakdowns, and she had even less. Each one was somehow more painful than the last; perhaps because at first he'd had hope that he could stop them, that he could cut them short, that he could fix them.

Not only did he learn how powerless he was in the face of her distress, but he also noticed that her episodes were becoming progressively worse.

A blur of gold flashed across his vision, and Jihyun slid to the side, narrowly evading a pillow that Rika had hurled across the room. He took a tentative step forward, only to instantly recoil as he felt a stuffed animal squish beneath his feet.

He cast a pitiful glance at the tiny plush bunny at his feet; it must have been too light to fly far.

That kitten contrasted sharply with the lion that slammed into the wall behind him. Jihyun winced as he heard the thud of a heavy plush head meeting solid concrete, and he whipped his head around quickly when he heard something rattling. One of the photographs hanging on the wall was shaking, swaying back and forth, but thankfully it stayed up. He'd need to commend Rika later for doing such a fine, sturdy job putting it up.

The middle of a nervous breakdown was not the time to do so.

A blood-curdling shriek assaulted Jihyun's ears, and he turned around as quickly as he could to make sure nothing else was flying in his direction. Rika had run out of ammunition on the bed, however, and was now hunched over and hugging herself, gripping her arms so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

"Rika. Let go. Rika, do you hear me? Rika...."

The white of her knuckles was suddenly interrupted by beads of red that were welling on her pale, thin skin. She hissed and began running her hands up and down her arms, dragging her nails along as she did so. Her nails dug into her flesh like claws, and thin red streaks began to decorate her skin like sketch strokes on a canvas.

"Ri--"

"Shut up!" she screeched, bending over further and shaking her head vigorously. "Stop your lies! Stop it! Get out of my head!"

Alarmed at first, Jihyun swiftly realized she wasn't talking to him. She was battling with someone -- or something -- else entirely.

"Stop it. Stop." Her breathing grew morw ragged as she gasped out the words. I can't... I can't say that." She paused, swallowing hard. Rika stopped rubbing her arms, but her grip never slackened; blood began to well up in pinpricks on her skin again as she kept her nails firmly embedded in the same spot for a long time. "If I say those things, I'll be alone again! Shut up! SHUT UP!"

"Rika."

Jihyun was hovering at the end of the bed now, one hand reaching towards Rika delicately. He was ready to withdraw at a moment's notice, but calling to her from a distance wasn't working so he needed to try getting closer.

"Can you hear me? Rika."

That might have been the key.

Slowly, Rika lifted her head. Her wild, unfocused eyes were red around the rims, and her cheeks were puffy from crying. But his voice must have reached her, because she turned her attention to his direction as she whispered, "V."

"I'm here, Rika," he soothed. He didn't move from his spot, not wanting to startle her. "Focus on my voice. You're here with me, Rika."

"V..." Rika repeated his name, and she licked her lips afterwards-- holding onto his name and savoring his presence. "V, help..."

But then darkness descended upon her again, and she folded in on herself with vigorous shakes of her head.

"V. You need to go. You need to leave!" Her voice was trembling, and V could see the rapid rise and fall of her body as she took labored breaths.

"I can't just leave you, Rika."

She laughed bitterly. "Of course you can! Everyone does!" she snarled.

But a mere moment later, she sniffled and whined, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I shouldn't say that. I'm sorry. It wasn't me. It wasn't me!" She withdrew even deeper into her suffocating bubble, hugging her knees to become smaller and smaller.

Jihyun dared to take a step closer, even as his own legs shook in trepidation. "It's just you and me, Rika. You can say anything."

Rika began balling her hands into fists, furling and unfurling her fingers as she responded. "No. She's here. She's always here. She won't leave me the fuck alone! GO AWAY!!!" With a heart-rending wail, Rika reached her hands up to her head, tugging at her golden locks in a frenzy. "She says these horrible things, and she eggs me on to repeat them. They're harsh, hurtful, downright awful," she whimpered. "If I repeated them, told my friends the horrible things she says, they'd all loathe me."

Jihyun's brow knitted in confusion. "You can ignore her lies, Ri--"

"But they aren't lies!" Rika scratched her scalp furiously. "They're all true! I agree with everything she says. No... no, they're my horrible thoughts! I'm the devil who thinks those things!"

Unexpectedly, Rika threw her head back and stared directly into Jihyun's worried mint eyes with her own emerald gaze burning with fury, with fear, and with... something else, something even darker and more frightening.

"I am her, the devil inside me. And the 'me' who speaks to you and the RFA is a big liar!"

With that, Rika balled her hands into fists once more and began pounding indiscriminately at everything within reach: the bed, the wall, her legs, her face.

At this outburst, Jihyun darted forward, self-preservation out the window. Now Rika was posing an active danger to herself, and he couldn't let her be. Hastily he grabbed her left arm, using all of his might to restrain her. Her right fist managed to clock him in the jaw before he could wrap his hand around it, and he hissed inwardly as pain shot through his face.

"Rika! Rika!" he eked out her name despite the pain. "Rika, please. We won't hate you. You're a good person, Rika. You--"

The hatred that crackled and roared in Rika's expression, like a wildfire aiming to set the country ablaze, made Jihyun's breath catch in his throat.

"And you think you're an exception to the devil's curses?" she spat, her nose scrunched up in disgust. "V, you miserable wretch, are the one who I resent most of all!"

[pinksparklelps]

@healerelowen remember that idea of us being the ones to power the pillars instead of our uberbots when luke fights us? Yeah me too

Not The Intended Result

Apparently there was a new challenger here in Botopia, and Photographer let us know they were currently making their way through his domain. It’s exciting really! Me and Elowen were the only challengers for a long time, and we don’t battle that often anymore. Sadly though, I couldn’t go introduce myself just yet, as the bridge has been under repair for a couple days. Though, estimated completion is sometime today!

I let G0lly know where I was going before I head out, and spent a while just wandering around. Taking out my communicator, I could see several of the waypoints back online, including a few down in Archivist’s domain. Hm, maybe they’re battling both of them before coming this way? I could go wait by the bridge… I thought, walking in the direction of said bridge.

Once arriving, I was happy to see that the bridge had been fully fixed, and there was once again access between both sides of Botopia! I sat down on the railing, waiting patiently for the challenger to arrive. I kept my eye on the open waypoints, and noticed that they had stopped before getting into the Archives.

Huh. That’s… strange.

They were fighting the Uberbots, right? Why would they stop right before getting to Archivist? Her mechanics are quite fun, in my opinion. Well, the bridge is fixed, so maybe they want to explore over here and gather some more cards first. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

It seems my theory was correct, because looking up, I could see the challenger approaching. Though, the way they walked was kind of robotic (more robotic than the actual robots, haha). I hopped off my perch, and waved with a small smile. “Hello, challenger!” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but something about them made me uneasy.

They just stood there, a vacant look in their eyes. “Um… Hello?” I tried again, dropping my hand to my side. Was coming here a bad idea? Maybe I’m just bothering them and I should leave… Suddenly, they pulled out their deck of cards, the classic holo-table appearing between us. They were… challenging me? Why me?

Reluctantly, I take out my own deck. “Uh, alright. I can play a quick round.” I smiled awkwardly. “I won’t be much of a challenge though, it’s been a bit since I played.”

No response. Maybe they were mute? Or socially anxious, like me? They just took their first turn, and I played mine after. We went back and forth for a while, and I had no clue what to say anymore. They were so… emotionless, I guess? I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s kind of unsettling.

Why do I feel like something is gonna go wrong..?

And go wrong it did. The challenger won our match, and shoved their deck back into their pocket. I handed them some robobucks for the few points of overkill they landed on me, smiling a little worriedly. “Good game cha-”

Everything went white. I can only hear static. What’s going on? What did they do to me?! I…

I’m scared…

G0lly…

—----------

“Oh golly, that can’t be right…” G0lly’s pillar in Central Botopia was active, but not from her doing. Only she and the other Uberbots could activate their respective pillars. Yet right here on the screen, it said it was online. “That’s a strange glitch.”

G0lly sent a message to her fellow Uberbots, stating that her pillar was active despite her not activating it. Almost immediately, Archivist responded, saying that the same thing was happening with hers. Canvas commented on it being weird. Photographer was currently offline. Archivist offered meeting up to check it out and find a solution, and G0lly agreed.

She set out soon after, heading to Central Botopia. On the way, she remembered Sparky saying they were going to meet the new challenger, but she hasn’t come back yet. G0lly assumed before that the challenger already fought the Uberbots on the East side of Botopia, but Archivist’s similar problem said otherwise. However, the challenger could have traveled West after Photographer, planning to go back afterwards. It was a similar plan to Sparky’s route when they had first arrived, so it was a possibility.

So where was Sparky?

The bot’s question was soon answered, when she noticed them on the bridge… They didn’t look okay. “Oh gosh- Sparky!” G0lly sped up, leaning down to her partner lying on the ground. “Sparky? Sparky, are you okay?” No response. G0lly got more and more frantic, trying desperately to wake up her partner. But they didn’t. Gradually, anger took over her processors.

What did that challenger do?