#we are back with messy sketches y’all

[lavander-galaxy]

SHOCKING NEWS !!!

my favorite character in Ramshackle is the emo

[callsign-rogueone]

braids - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader (duchess!) ✉️: Duchess has her hair in traditional braids right? Do u think Bren would learn how to braid her hair? And do it on days that she's tired or exhausted. Or maybe he would help her get the braids out of her hair at night. words: ~1k 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. just my response to the above and my thoughts about Bren, Duchess, and her hair. I promise there’s sweet headcanons under all my rambling about how I picture her braids. and I tried to make this as inclusive as possible and discuss multiple hair types, but I’m not very knowledgeable about that so I apologize if something is wrong!

The short answer: yes, absolutely. Brennan is a caretaker and protector first and foremost. It’s why he became a mender; he’s the eldest of the family, takes responsibility for younger siblings, and he’s just that kind of guy. He’d take incredibly good care of you as his partner, and that extends to every aspect of your life, especially your daily routines and self care.

The (very) long answer: I’ve purposely left descriptions of her hair as “intricate traditional braids” both as a nod to the Tyrrish knots that Xaden has Violet learn in the books, and for inclusivity, because I think that description can apply to anyone. The exact styles, the care required, and the length of time that she would wear them (doing them up on a daily basis, or leaving them in for weeks/months) depends on her hair type, so I’ve been leaving it up for interpretation because I want to cater to everyone. But I think that regardless, Bren would absolutely be willing and eager to learn how to help you with it.

I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, but I’ve seen pictures and clips of Daenerys, and she was a major inspiration for Duchess -- powerful woman of noble status who commands (or in Duchess’s case, speaks for) a riot of dragons, shows femininity through her dress and hair, but isn’t afraid to fuck someone up if they wrong her or her family.

So I’d imagine something like her character wears, but a bit more practical for fighting and training (maybe ending in one braid going down her back instead of having a half-up, half-down thing). Some examples I found on pinterest:

Another thing I’ve been imagining is several tiny silver charms / clips woven into the braids, decorated with runes (this will come into play later on in their story 👀) like these.

Now for the headcanons:

As we saw in allies, Bren recognized the braids as something of traditional importance, and it was one of the things that drew him to her. He loves and admires her dedication to her culture, and he also thinks they're absolutely gorgeous -- the girl looked him in the eye and said his name and he folded. Man was smitten from day one. 

He loves seeing you with them or without them: the first time he saw you with your hair down, completely out of the braids and messy, loose, it changed his brain chemistry forever (it didn’t help that you were half-dressed at the time, as well, but I digress)

I didn’t want to get too into deep this, because I do have a scene like this sketched out already, but I’m a weak weak woman so I’ll give it to you anyway:

One of the first few times y’all ~spent the night~, he was entranced watching you fix up your hair in the morning, at the ease and speed with which you redid the sections that had come undone / smoothed everything out, put the clips back in, and got it ready for the day.

He would have offered to help if he wasn’t so shy about it (still in disbelief that this actually happened, and she’s still here), and if you didn’t seem so capable yourself; after all, you’ve been doing this on your own for years now.

Braiding behind your own head takes some considerable upper body strength, so if your back or arms are injured, he won’t hesitate to help out, because he knows it’s important to you and he wants to help, wants to be close to you, and even after he mended you, he still doesn’t want you straining yourself.

You’re a little skeptical at first, but you quickly realize he knows what he’s doing. Think about it: this man is the older brother of two sisters, with parents who worked long hours at high-stress jobs. He absolutely knows how to properly detangle and brush (starting at the ends, being gentle with it) and can do basic braids, etc. 

He’ll stand behind you and help you take them down, incredibly careful not to pull too hard. When they’re all out, he’ll work his fingertips into your scalp ever so gently, noting the way you sigh in relief. Gives the back of your neck some attention, too. Those hands�� sorry, where were we?

He’ll also help you do them up again -- they may not be as fancy or as pristine as if you did it yourself, but they’re pretty good. He’s bashful about it as you look over your shoulder in the mirror to examine his work, but he practically glows when you thank him and tell him he did well. 

He keeps a few of your hair bands in the pockets of his flight jacket in case one breaks. Not embarrassed to wear one around his wrist, either -- his hair isn’t long enough to use it himself, so it’s a clear sign that he’s holding it for someone else, that he’s spoken for.

I talked about this the other week in some Garrick headcanons I did, but I’m gonna say it again: hair washing. 

It would take a while for y'all to get to a point where you can shower together because you're both shy nervous bbs for a while, who can’t hold hands without bursting into flames (no pun intended) but like, after you're married, for sure. 

He really gets in there, gets all the dirt and blood out, washes the day off and leaves you nice and clean and relaxed. He does not miss a single spot. Helps you condition, rinse, and dry it after, too. Full service, complete with forehead kisses.

Another thought that I won’t get too far into, and am leaving as a strict hypothetical: IF you were to have a daughter, and IF she wanted to wear her hair like her mama does, Brennan would 100% be on the job. The Duke Consort of Lindell and the Colonel of the Tyrrish army has years of experience brushing and braiding and detangling, and he takes incredibly good care of his girls. They’re gonna be looking fresh at all times.

[crab-instruments]

The Crime Lord’s New Groove Part 5

Master <Part 4 Part 6>

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.

Warnings: none

a/n: I'm not dead, just listening to podcast about people with delusions of grandeur, and maybe that's where this story will end up.

Smuggling cat-Silco into his office was much easier than getting him out. It helped Sevika could glare anyone into submission, forcing them to look down at the ground while you carried the precious cargo that was your boss.

You and Sevika tore the office apart, searching for any clues. Random cursed objects, cat claws and whiskers used for a sacrifice, even Shimmer tainted catnip. There was nothing, though it’s not like either of you knew what to look for. Besides, neither of you spent enough time in the office to know if something was out of place.

The cat himself clearly had other things to do. You watched as Silco tapped objects around with mild interest, using some to test the gravity in the office. A small pile of trinkets and pens amassed on the floor as time went on. Every once and a while, Silco would sit his scruffy-looking ass down, tail wrapped over his front paws, and stare holes into you and Sevika. His look was bored, as if expecting to be entertained. Neither of you knew what he wanted, so he would go back to tapping objects.

“So, what you’re telling me is… you know nothing.”

Never taking your eye off a pen as it rolled under the desk, you responded dejectedly. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I didn’t try. However, I think I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty here.”

Sevika scoffed. “Right. You have no answers and no leads but you definitely deserve a raise.”

You groaned and swiveled your head toward the golden armed warrior. “It’s not like I was here when it happened and I already told you my suspect is—”

“A lady with no appointment, who said something, and left without anyone noticing.”

“Yeah so, I mean, that’s not nothing—”

“There are many ladies in Zaun, you moron, it barely narrows it down.”

“I’m not exactly an expert in therianthropy or shapeshifting. I work behind the bar most nights! Y’all don’t even trust me enough to do inventory, so I fail to see how this is remotely my problem.” You dug the heals of your hands into your eyes and sighed, annoyed at how unlucky you were to have been the one to have found Silco. “Do you remember what that old hag looked like, from yesterday? She was the last one you saw come in here, right? Could you describe her enough so I could draw her face and see if we can use that to ask around?”

It was quiet for a moment. You looked up to see both Silco and Sevika staring at you incredulously. Raising your arms in question, you glared back at the two.

Sevika huffed, “You can draw? I’ve seen your handwriting, it’s dogshit.”

Underpaid and underappreciated, you wondered why you even offered and why you were still here. You grabbed a pen off the floor and some loose paper, making room on the messy desk. The sketch of the woman’s face started out generic, a base for Sevika to go off of.

It was all going fine until a few lines started to get out of hand and the pen became difficult to use. You scowled at Silco, who was much closer and swatting the moving pen. Lifting the pen out of reach, you frowned, trying to convey your annoyance. No emotion showed on his face, only focused on his target.

A silent battle was fought between the two of you. Silco looked at you with defiant eyes. This was Silco’s desk, pen, paper, and office, and if he wanted to play with the pen, it was his right. However, you were trying to help make him not a cat and his little paws were interfering with that work. After a few seconds, you made your attack. You lifted Silco up, keeping him at arms length, and placed him on the chair all while ignoring the deepening scowl the scruffy feline gave.

“If Silco remembers what happened while he was a cat, he’ll kill you. Maybe worse.”

You sighed, “He’ll have to get in line. Just tell me what the lady looked like.”

Silco accepted his fate, stretching his claws into the seat of the chair, walking in a circle, and curling up into a fluffy ball.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After pulling the details out from Sevika, which was more difficult than you could have imagined (like it was Sevika’s job to keep them secret and close to her heart), you had a sketch to go off of. When you had a moment to finally look at it, you were sure you messed up somewhere.

You turned to Sevika, the sketch outstretched in your hands. “Is this what she looked like?”

“Shit, that looks just like the woman. It’s almost like you’ve seen her before.”

Silco snapped his head up, eyes bleary from sleep, now alert. He uncurled himself from the chair to leap onto the desk for a better vantage point. A single paw tapped your wrist impatiently a few times until you laid out the sketch on the desk. Silco took a few steps back, taking in the portrait. His head tilted from side to side before he pounced on the paper and looked up at you, meowing in approval.

“Even Silco agrees.” You rubbed your face, giving yourself a moment to think. “Well, the good news is, I know who the woman is.”

“Really? Who?”

“My landlord.”

Seivka stood and started making her way toward the door. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get going.”

“Wait! But I live there! I can’t go accusing my landlord of witchcraft, she’ll evict me.”

“How is that my problem?”

You sputtered, thrown off kilter by Sevika’s lack of empathy. “Where would I live?”

Before Sevika could answer, Silco meowed loud enough to startle you both. He held his presence as if he was human again, demanding respect and attention. It was easy to forget how powerful he was when he looked so cute and fluffy.

“Silco will reward you for helping him, of course.”

Sighing, you considered the offer. Realistically, you couldn’t say no to Silco anyway. “Fine, but let me talk to her first. I’ll try to negotiate nicely and if that doesn’t work, you can be the bad cop.”

The golden armed brute looked toward that cat sitting on the desk, waiting for approval. Silco sat up straight, regal as always, and looked between the two of you. He nodded and blinked slowly. It was a weird scene to experience, waiting for a cat to dictate the path of your future.

The same cat that started grooming himself on top of the desk.

“The boss has spoken, let’s go.”

Part 6

*~*~*

[dulcewrites]

are fmo djats reader and aemond married in the universe? and if so when reader leaves him how does that go down? also, I love both ideas for reader but personally leaning towards fashion girlie, makes the clothes for the band and their aesthetic/ style goes down when she leaves. I like the thought of her making clothes for herself and Daella and wishing in another life she could do more then after the cheating just taking the leap and putting her and daella first :)

Hmmm I was debating this when I got this ask. On one hand, I want our girl to have to a quick exist. But I guess if we consider the time period I imagine this in (late 90s/early 00s) and consider that they both come from “traditional” households, I could see Aemond thinking he needed to propose after reader finds out she’s pregnant.

I’m gonna say yes bc the divorce will be messy which is so early 00s. Reader tries to put in there that alys can’t be around daella. Aemond tells her that’s unreasonable bc he’s her father and him and alys are together. Daella is bound to see her. Reader tells him it’s unreasonable to try and stick his penis in other women while he’s married. Their lawyers are just like 👁️👁️

No but the idea of reader putting her dreams on the back burner when daella was born. Taking into account how much Aemond wants this band to work and always supporting him…. Only for him not to give that same energy. She sketches and makes clothes in her spare time but is basically raising a kid by herself.

But the idea of her giving the band an aesthetic is so true. Like y’all know how Ariana went “look at you, boy I invented you” during In My Head. 1. She ate I miss mother and. 2. That’s so reader and Aemond. Like once the band starts to take form, I can totally see her telling them what looks work and what don’t. She’s not stupid, she knows they’re attractive and sometimes that’s half the battle with making it. She personally helped Aemond for years even before it became a job for her.

[babybluebex]

laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

[sakarrie-creates]

Day 4: Shadowsan or Player’s Parents! @playerappreciationweek This is a scene we brainstormed a while back that’s been stuck in my head where basically dark!Carmen has realized VILE brainwashed her but is still empathy-less for the most part. Player tells her truth in hopes of getting through to her, but instead, dark!Carmen really latches onto the fact that Chief was the one who killed her father, not Shadowsan. Long story short, Player’s not willing to help her kill Chief and dark!Carmen takes it as the ultimate betrayal since he’s claiming to be her best friend. Carmen contacts Shadowsan and uses Player as leverage to force Shadowsan into tracking down Chief for her. It’s all pretty complicated, so that’s more the cliffnotes, but there’s a lot of angst and whump, and Carmen and Player are both wrecks by the end haha. This drawing is actually the simplified version of what I’m hoping for, but my midterms have pushed me a couple days behind. The other version is more accurate to the scene in context  and that version + cleaning and hopefully color is still coming! I was originally hoping to write out the scene, so it wouldn’t surprise me if a long time down the road that happens too. Or a different scene from this AU, cause it’s an angstmonger.   Also, I think this may be the first sketchy thing I’ve posted? Not really sure, but I’ve got tons of art that’s in this messy style if y’all are interested. Most are pretty basic 30 min sketches though haha. Oops I should probably post the link to my day 1 first haha. Welp we’re going out of order cause I like to be as chaotic as possible apparently.​ As always, reblogs and likes are very appreciated, but please do not repost. <3

[aro-comics]

Music (Part 2)

NOTE: This was originally uploaded in 2 parts (too long for instagram) but it was intended to be read as one, so I’ll be pasting the descriptions one after the other as well as putting a complete image description for the whole post after.

Part 2 - in which amatonormativity makes it near impossible to have things to fully relate to and enjoy like everyone else does. Personally, it didn’t really hit me that listening and singing along to songs about romance was something you COULD actually relate to. I thought it was a kind of melodrama that everyone just did because it was a social norm/code, not because people actually felt that way 😭 The song in the second last slide is Before I Cave In by Too Close To Touch :) Do y’all also love very messy breakup songs for the drama and the drama only??

Part 3  PART 2 CONTINUED - this one's a little more personal, haha. The songs are Wolves, Survive, and Architects, respectively, all by Rise Against. Sorry if rock/punk/post-hardcore isn't your cup of tea 😭 Listening to this kind of music was one of the first times I understood what it meant to relate 100% to a song. To sing every word and mean it, from the bottom of my heart. A lot of the music I liked growing up were about break-ups and romantic relationships gone wrong, but even if I enjoyed the melody, I knew deep down that I didn't fully understand what the song was about or was interpreting them in a different way than was intended. With songs like these though, messages about finding the strength to keep going, deciding to actually do something when you know things are wrong and taking charge of your own fate ... it’s way more relatable. I had a rough childhood, and lyrics like these remind me of what it took to keep going even when I wanted to give up on everything (not to be negative lol, I’m doing a lot better now 💚). Was there a song/artist that made you realize what it meant to relate to music fully (or is this just me)?

[Image Description:

Slide 1:  Title slide. “Music. II: Non-Romantic” In the background are drawings of headphones, stationary, a portable music player and a sheet titled ‘lyrics’. 

Slide 2: Text Slide. “Amatonormativity makes romance entrenched in our music.”

Slide 3: Slide shows an alternating series of small drawings and text. 

“Whether it’s a breakup,” (to the left, a drawing of two people having a fight) 

“A crush,” (a headshot of a brunette with a broken heart drawn on their shirt)

“Unrequited feelings,” (a drawing of a girl staring at another girl who doesn’t notice her)

Slide 4: Previous slide’s format continues onto this slide. 

“Falling in love,” (a drawing of hands holding a note. Inside is a stereotypical heart with arrow, inscribed with initials ‘H+J’. Bottom says ‘-luv u’)

“Jealousy,” (the person who was holding the note looking up, annoyed. In the foreground of the sketch the object of affections is leaning woefully into the arms of a girl, melodramaticallly saying ‘woe is me’)

“-it’s always about romance.” At the bottom left Celia stands talking to viewer, looking a bit dejected. 

Slide 5: Panel of Celia talking to the viewer but looking down. “As an aro, to be honest, it’s really alienating.”

Slide 6: Celia singing with her eyes scrunched shut, her fist raised in front of her as she pretends to be upset like the lyrics of the song. The background is a sharp goldenrod yellow to indicate the musical nature. 

In the background the lyrics are drawn in rough white brushstrokes: “Two hearts that beat in sync but they could never be”

Slide 7: Panel switches back to usual colour, and Celia seems to have snapped out of the moment. She says “- well that was … not relatable. At all.”

Bottom right corner: “But it’s also nice to sing along with things that you really believe in, relate to.”

Slide 8: Celia sitting on the ledge of an outdoor table. In the background are mountains and a forest. She is listening to music on a set of large red headphones. Caption at top reads “I guess that’s why I like rock music.” 

Slide 9: Text slide: “It’s not that I think pop, or other music genres aren’t socially aware. But I find that there are some great rock, punk, and post hardcore bands that sing about social issues, past traumas, healing, growth, and thriving.” 

Slide 10: Text slide: “I love singing along with them, acknowledging all of the unjust things which exist in this world, but still finding the beauty in life and the strength to not only survive but try and make things better.”

Slide 11: A musical slide with illustrated lyrics and a bright yellow background. Celia sings with a microphone in one hand, and her other hand raised in a stereotypical rock hand sign. 

Lyrics: “The smoke you ignored is a flame you can’t contain.”

Slide 12: A musical slide with illustrated lyrics and a bright yellow background. Split panel of Celia singing back to back. For the left side, she is signing more aggressively and seems to snarl. On the right, she stands up straighter and seems more hopeful. 

Lyrics: “Life for you has been less than kind/ -but how we survive is what makes us who we are.”

Slide 13: A musical slide with illustrated lyrics and a bright yellow background. Celia continues singing, smiling with her fist raised again. 

Lyrics: “Let’s decide to be the architects the masters of our fate”

Slide 14: Celia lying on her bed, listening to music on a set of headphones connected to her phone. Caption: “... it’s just so much more relatable than romance, I think.”]

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night

A/N: Debating on whether or not I should put this on AO3. Thoughts? Do I need to edit what I have before posting on my favorite website? Anyways, I’m really into horror and I’d like to try my hand at focusing on MC’s descent into madness while falling for her captors. Dimitrescu Sisters x OFC (Desdemona) Summary: Desdemona, her twin brother and best friend are on vacation in Romania when things go horribly wrong the moment they run out of gas. Desdemona has the misfortune of enchanting the monsters that decided to terrorize her group. 

        It was a cold, pitch black night in the northeastern mountainous region of Romania, a heavy fog enveloping the roads which made it nearly impossible for any source of light to pierce through the gloom. This did not bode well for Desdemona and her friends as they dared to venture through the treacherous weather in order to reach their destination. The humble village of Bran should have been a welcome sight by now although from where the unlucky travelers were currently stranded, Desdemona had her doubts. To make matters worse, her best friend, Veronica, shoved a crumpled map of Brasov, Romania into her boyfriend’s hands and demanded answers. Her hot-headed friend was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“Desmond, are you sure we’re headed in the right direction? None of this seems to make sense!”, Veronica exclaimed as she nervously rummaged through her shoulder bag for yet another cigarette. She struggled to light her cigarette this time, the harsh winter’s wind blowing hard against her bare hands caused them to shake violently.

 Desmond sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his messy chestnut brown hair, pushing wild dark curls away from his eyes.

“You think the shopkeeper gave us the wrong directions to fuck with us because we’re tourists? I knew we were gonna get shit signal out here in the bum fuck middle of nowhere but come on, the old guy looked knowledgeable. Can’t blame me for trustin’ him.” Desmond casually replied with a shrug. He then took a moment to straighten the map again before folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

Desdemona was of the same mind as her twin. It seemed likely that the locals would be completely burnt out from the flocks of American tourists invading their hometown just to squawk about the castle that inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula. How exhausting it must be to constantly point out where to go to book a tour or who to call to arrange such things when the internet exists. In hindsight, Desdemona should have known better than to bug the polite yet obviously impatient shopkeeper about their vacation plans.

“Think about it, V, Desmond has a point. The guy probably gave us the run around for shits and giggles. You know, it would have been fine taking a wrong turn and then having to backtrack all the way back into town, but we should have just stayed the night at the Inn. Now we’re outta gas and it’s fucking freezing out here.” Desdemona added, now hugging herself tightly and occasionally rubbing her arms to keep warm for as much as possible.

Veronica growled but relented as she took a long drag of her cigarette, her foot resting against their rented vehicle. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Snowflakes began to drift downwards, and it only fueled Veronica’s anxiety about being stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dark. “Alright, alright, we can either freeze to death in this piece of shit,” Veronica began as she kicks the van for good measure, “or we can freeze to death out there looking for shelter. I think I see a path over there that we can take to find what we need. It might lead us to people who can help us, or it might lead us to certain death. All I know is that we need to make a decision now, it’s starting to snow.” Desmond grins and wraps his arm around Veronica’s waist, pulling her close and pecking her on the cheek. “To certain death it is! Des, grab the essentials and let’s head out. According to the map, there are a few small villages in the surrounding area. Chances are we’ll stumble into one of them eventually and find shelter. We’ll get this mess sorted out.” Desmond eagerly stepped away from Veronica’s embrace and stepped towards the beaten van.

After a few moments of scrounging around for what they deemed important, Desdemona ended up with a backpack full of snacks, water, spare clothes, and the first aid kid. Veronica settled for an entire carton of cigarettes and a few spare lighters because you know, it was “absolutely essential” to her survival in a foreign land. Desmond found a flashlight and decided that going light would be preferable to him in case they ran into any trouble. They paved the way forward, following the path that strayed away from the lonely sliver of road. Turning back to get a final look at the abandoned van, Desdemona swallowed the surge of fear that was beginning to creep up on her. She had seen enough horror movies in her lifetime knowing that this probably wasn’t going to end up well for her little group. The logical side of her brain, what little rational thoughts she had left, gnawed their way through her brain begging to be voiced out and heard.

‘Turn back around, it’s safer to stay put and wait until morning! This is dangerous and you know it!’

Desdemona reluctantly glanced back at her brother walking ahead with Veronica hand in hand and the younger twin suddenly stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should stay behind just in case while her gregarious brother searched for help in these mountains; after all, he was far more easygoing and could easily charm the most stubborn of fools into helping him.

“Des, what’s wrong? I thought we all agreed that we should stick together.” Veronica called out to her, uncertainty lacing her tone as her eyes flicked back and forth between the van and a terrified looking Desdemona.

Nervously fidgeting in place, Desdemona struggles to settle the conflicted thoughts warring in her mind. She knows that staying behind and waiting for help would be the wisest course of action, but there was safety in numbers. There’s danger lurking beyond the vast expanse of mountains that surrounded them and she would be utterly defenseless if left alone. Desdemona’s instincts were begging her to go back to the van but the connection she shared with her twin demanded that she follow him through the sketchy path that would most likely lead to their demise. She couldn’t let anything happen to Desmond, she would never forgive herself if something happened to him out here.

With a shaky resolve, Desdemona straightened up and gazed back at Veronica with a small smile on her face. “I’m just nervous, you know. Desmond and I binge watched all the Wrong Turn movies last Saturday so being out here alone in the dark is uh, freaking me out a little. I’ll be fine, though, let’s just keep going.” Desdemona lied as she rushed over to her best friend who rolled her eyes at the revelation.

“No wonder you’re acting all sketch, Des. First of all, binge watching horror movies the weekend before your vacation was stupid as hell so now you’re all hyped up over nothing. Secondly, Wrong Turn sucks. Y’all should have binged Hatchet, Danielle Harris is so hot!” Veronica declared, eager to get conversation going as the three of them trekked through a rocky and narrow trail that led to who knows where.

Desmond was quick to reply in defense of his favorite horror movie franchise and Desdemona was thankful to hear them bicker back and forth. The conversation drowned out the sound of cold whispers tickling naked branches in the distance, the loud crunching of their footsteps on the snow-covered ground, and ravens crying out above them. It was so eerie and something about it all didn’t sit right with Desdemona. She hooked an arm around Veronica’s free arm and together they discussed their favorite horror movies. Veronica could tell her best friend was still a little spooked, so she pulled her closer until she was pressed against her side to provide as much comfort as she could give.

The trail continued to narrow the further they moved along but nothing they observed thus far gave the impression that that anything was out of the ordinary. When they reached a clearing, Desmond sighed with relief. His breath steaming the frigid air was nearly the only thing they could see ahead if it weren’t for the flashlight providing what little comforting light source they had. The snow fall began to pick up the pace but it wasn’t blinding, thankfully. Desmond brushed aside large shrubs and stepped further into the winding path, coming to a full stop when he realized what lay ahead of the weary travelers.

The trio stared in awe at the overpowering sight of a 15th century castle looming over a quiet village sheltering underneath a blanket of darkness, or what Desdemona assumed was its shadow. No amount of fog could hide the monstrosity that was the architectural brilliance of this castle that Desdemona saw before her very eyes.

“Desmond, honey, where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t leave Dezzy and I behind!” Veronica suddenly shrieked as she sprinted after her overly excited boyfriend down the hill that led into the village. Desmond turned around and could only offer a sheepish smile with a shrug before eagerly running into the unknown. Desdemona tore her gaze away from the castle and spurred into action, jumping and running as fast as she could in order to catch up with her twin.

Desmond was energized by both the cool crisp air and the promising sight of civilization, but that energy was quickly drained out of him when he encountered something wholly unexpected. Veronica reached the eldest Hawthorne sibling and was about to admonish him for leaving the two frightened girls behind, but she was quickly shushed by Desmond. Desdemona quietly approached the scene, her eyes widening when she realized that this was not the village of Bran at all.

They had indeed reached a small village but it looked completely obliterated. The houses looked shattered and broken, as if something gigantic and menacing had come through and picked away at the people that once inhabited this community one by one. Desmond cautiously led the group forward, calling out for any signs of survivors. This wasn’t on the itinerary…

Veronica was on the verge of tears, her hands covering her mouth as she observed the tragic scene before her. Every now and then, she would step into a broken home and call out to somebody – anybody- only to step back out with a grim look on her face. She pulled out her cell phone and attempted to dial emergency services only to be met with disappointment.

“There’s blood.” Desmond says quietly. His eyes peer over the trail of fresh blood and fear grips him the moment the flashlight scans over the corpse of a rotting horse. “Fuck, that stench – we need to get the fuck out of here now!” Veronica cries, gagging and turning away from the horrific view.

Desdemona would have expressed an equally strong reaction had she not felt a sense of…wrongness abruptly assaulting the atmosphere. The moment they stepped foot into the village, the environment reacted to their presence and that did not sit right with Desdemona at all.

“Desmond, do you hear that?” Desdemona asked, her voice laced with terror. Desmond Hawthorne heard the fear in his sister’s quivering voice and it made him feel uneasy. “I don’t hear anything, Des.” He replies as he reaches for Veronica’s hand and squeezes it tight. The couple began to frantically look around them as they slowly backed into Desdemona. As soon as they grouped up again, both Veronica and Desmond wrapped themselves around the youngest sister. The oppressive silence sent a whole new wave of fear over the group before something insidious could be heard approaching them in the distance. Desdemona gasped when she heard maniacal giggling and it was getting louder. A fluttering of what sounds like wings -bats, ravens, perhaps- advancing towards the group sent chills down Desdemona’s spine. What the hell was coming after them?

Desmond flashed his light from side to side before it settled on the massive black ball of insects that instantly appeared before him. The insects dissipated and somehow revealed the shape of a human being wearing a dark robe and hood. The only thing he could truly make out was the color of a red pendant wrapped around dainty, pale skin and a blood smeared smirk. Desmond’s heart dropped in absolute horror and panic immediately set in.

“RUN!” He screamed, taking off with a terrified Veronica in tow. Neither of them looked back to make sure Desdemona was following. The flashlight dropped, and it briefly circled the ground. The flickering light revealed two other black masses of insects approaching the younger Hawthorne sibling who was paralyzed with fear. All she could hear in that moment was delirious laughter coming from the women that revealed themselves two seconds later, the insects dissolving into thin air right before her very eyes.

The crazed woman standing directly in front of Desdemona leaned forward and took her time sniffing her pretty prey who stared at her with petrified gray eyes. Desdemona found it alarming that despite the lunatic’s appearance, dried blood caked on her lips and unruly red hair and a wild, untamed look in her eyes, she found her quite…striking. Perhaps she was going mad. None of this made sense, how could this be happening right now?

“Mmm, sisters, look at what I found. Such a pretty young thing all for me and she smells oh so delicious.” The woman with the green pendant spoke, giggling madly at the profound effect she had on Desdemona.

 “Daniela, you’re delusional, she’s mine; I’m the one who picked up on her tasty scent!” The one with the red pendant spoke after she turned her attention to the only human who didn’t run from them.

The brunette with the yellow pendant reached over and yanked on Desdemona’s hair so hard back, Desdemona thought her life was over. She bared her teeth as she skimmed her nose across the young woman’s neck. Her tongue darted out between blood smeared lips and left a wet trail, causing the smaller woman’s breath to hitch at the unwelcome contact.

“Mmm, she smells so utterly divine. Bela, by the way, it wasn’t you who found MY new pet, it was me! You ungrateful wretches always want to touch what’s mine!” The hooded figure’s grip on her hair tightened and Desdemona whined, causing all three women to delight in her torment.

What Desdemona couldn’t figure out was what they wanted to do with her exactly and why they were fighting over her like three starved wild dogs fighting over a piece of meat. She needed to get out of there fast. “LET GO OF MY SISTER, YOU UGLY CUNTS!” Desmond’s angry voice broke through in the distance and all three creatures turned their attention on the young man who dared interrupt dinner time.

Desdemona decided this was the time to take advantage of their distraction and she quickly slipped away, sprinting as fast as she could to the nearest unoccupied house. Desmond, relieved that his sister broke free from whatever those things were, spun on his heel and ran the opposite direction. He could only hope that all three of them would make it out of this godforsaken village alive.

All three women threw their heads back and laughed wildly into the air as they knew catching their prey would be much more satisfying when they caught them alone in isolated surroundings. It added to their fear and it made the blood taste that much sweeter.

“The hunt is on, sisters. Leave the pretty plaything alive, but the others, we will present to our dear mother as gifts. We’ll make the new pet watch mother undo their very lives; it’ll only make her that much more delicious when we have our fill.” The one with the yellow pendant stated as she sniffed at the air, shuddering when Desdemona’s irresistible scent filled her nostrils once more.

Desdemona found refuge in a large house a few yards away and slammed the front door shut when she ran inside. She quickly assessed what she assumed was the living room, she found a bookcase and summoned whatever strength she had and brought it down in front of the door. She heard something clawing at the door the instant she blocked the entrance, the door shaking violently and mad laughter filling her ears once more.

Desdemona shakily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight and began to look for another way out.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus Christ! What the fuck are those things!? Where’s Desmond? Is Veronica alright? How the hell do I get out of here? I just want to go home!’ Desdemona’s mind was running through a million thoughts per second but she couldn’t for the life of her settle on anything that would give her a moment’s peace. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she explored the dark home, her hands stretched out in front of her as she searched for anything that would provide answers to her problems. When she found a door near the kitchen, she cautiously opened it and cursed the eerie creaking sound that followed. It was discovered that the door led to a cellar of some kind and Desdemona rushed down the stairs without closing the door behind her. She slowly scanned the large open space and saw that this home had been recently ransacked or rummaged through. Clothes were scattered across the floor, furniture had been broken in half and tossed carelessly to the side but Desdemona found a hallway beyond the room she was in. ‘That must be the way out. Hurry up and grab something to protect yourself with!’

Desdemona carefully tip toed around the clutter, her phone flashing from side to side but to no avail, she couldn’t find anything that would prove harmful to whatever those monsters were outside. The woman nearly tripped over and fell when her foot stepped in something thick and wet, causing her foot to slip forward. Desdemona quickly steadied herself on a cabinet but it didn’t make her feel any better when she realized her fingers were covered in a thick, red substance.

Her breathing growing heavier, Desdemona flashed her phone light over to the cabinet only to find that it was covered in blood – a lot of it, to be exact and it was still dripping on the floor as though it were fresh.

All color drained from Desdemona’s face when she heard pained howling coming from the village; it was Desmond and he was screaming for help. Her twin was in danger and here she was selfishly trying to find a way to preserve her own life.

She quickly twisted around to run towards the howling but she stopped dead in her tracks when a black mass of insects appeared before her. The cloaked figure could only be identified by the color of her green pendant and a delirious smile plastered on her face. Fresh blood dripped down her chin and Desdemona’s eyes reluctantly followed the pool of blood forming at their feet. There was a sickle in her right hand and it was covered in blood, much to Desdemona’s dismay.

Desdemona began to tremble, overpowered by the frightening sight and the implications that followed a bloodied sickle carried by a madwoman. “The sound of your heart hammering against your chest is like music to my ears, pretty thing. Do not fret, my beauty, the moment we met I knew you were special. You’re meant to be mine, we’re meant to be!” She whispers madly, her tongue wetting her lips as her eyes rake over Desdemona’s body slowly and deliberately.

Desdemona doesn’t know what she’s talking about and she doesn’t want to know. Before she could form any kind of response, she’s pinned against the bloody cabinet behind her. She gasps in surprise and that seems to trigger the creature into action.

Desdemona screams as the hooded woman lunges at her collarbone and pierces through her skin with her razor sharp teeth. Desdemona weakly clutches at the woman’s shoulders, growing lightheaded from the sudden blood loss that was occurring. Feeling the woman about to collapse in her arms, Daniela pulls back and savors the taste of her blood. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sloppily licks the blood off her mouth and regains what little self-control she had left to preserve her pretty plaything for a little while longer.

When dazed gray eyes meet hers, Daniela’s cold, black heart skips a beat. She had never seen anything more beautiful. So she raises her sickle, causing Desdemona’s eyes to widen in panic and Daniela can’t help but giggle a little.

“Don’t worry, my beauty, I’ll be gentle with you. The hideous man-thing and his bitch aren’t going to be as lucky as you, I hope. You deserve special treatment.” Daniela whispers, her fingers caressing her prey’s tear-stained cheek before swinging the sickle with full forced into the back of Desdemona’s thigh.

Desdemona remembers a high-pitched shriek escaping her but nothing else seems to come to mind after that. She remembers her vision blurring and a creeping darkness soothing her to sleep but what happened after, nothing. She enters the haunting abyss that welcomes her with black tendrils pulling her from reality, sleep coming to her easily. With better luck, she’ll never have to wake up again.

Only fools believe in luck as the nightmare has only just begun.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐀 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Request - by @cleverpapersharksalad: “Can you do an imagine about JJ writing the reader letters about how he feels about her with no intention to show her and one day somehow she finds them and they become a couple?”

A/N: This is pure fluff right here, seriously. It also is giving me to all the boys I’ve loved before vibes and I’m totally here for it. I know the request says that it was a letter, but I saw a post somewhere that said that JJ liked to draw and was actually good at it, So I kinda threw that in there? If you want me to re-write. I can haha. This is so different from my other writings so I hope y’all enjoy it:) 

Not many people knew that JJ had a way with paper and pencil. It wasn’t uncommon around the cut, gave them all something to do during the rainy days. Writing, drawing, and reading was something that many of them picked up when the weather was too bad to go out. JJ was no exception. One of the things that he carried in his backpack was a sketchbook, it was old as time really, he had it for years. One day he was out on the hammock, he had it out in his lap as the rest of the pogues talked. 

John B and Sarah sat in a chair, Kie and pope on the other hammock, while I was sat on the opposite side of the hammock as JJ. “Okay this has to be the hottest summer ever,” Sarah said, dramatically laying out. 

“I second that” Pope said wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“What about a quick boat trip and a swim?” Kie suggested. We all looked out over the marsh behind us. The grey forming cloud looking to only be moving forward. “Nevermind that,” Kie said, making us all chuckle a bit. 

JJ had not looked up from his sketchbook. “What are you working on over there?” I said tapping his leg with my foot. JJ’s sketches always took my breath away. He would never admit it, but they had so much emotion in them. The lines and way it all came together was beautiful. Once, back when we all kinda tried in school, he had done a piece for art class, it was a portrait of John B made up with lines and colors, behind it was a letter, vaguely recalling how they met and his favorite memories. I teared up when he showed it to me. The painting was wonderful, but the words behind it were powerful. Of course, JJ being JJ said that it was nothing and just a dumb assignment, he needed the easy A. We all know JJ doesn’t care that much about his grades. 

He turned the book to show us the page, it was the dock down the yard from where we were sitting.  “Just a little sketch of the dock, ya know? Keeping my hands busy, with Y/N here so close.” He joked. JJ’s comment didn’t really throw me off, not anymore. JJ was flirty with everyone. He used to be that way with Kie, then the whole Pope and Kie thing started, and Pope got as territorial as he could for Pope. JJ respected him, so he stopped. Leaving me, the sole contender for JJ’s terrible pickup lines and borderline creepy innuendos. Not that I minded. 

“That’s really good JJ,” Sarah said. She was still learning about the pogues and all the little things about us all, beyond the surface level everyone saw. 

It wasn’t long before the rain started to drizzle down of us and we ran for cover into the house. On the way into the house, JJ tripped up the stairs, causing him to drop his sketchbook and pencil on the ground. I picked it up and turned it over. I was about to close it when I realized what it was. I opened the book so I could see both the pages. On the right side was a photo of me, it looked like he had drawn it on the boat, my hair was flowing out to the side, the lighting in the sketch really did me justice. It was in the same line heavy style that the portrait of JB had been in. I looked up at JJ, who looked frozen in his spot. His hand went to his neck, he couldn’t believe that of all the pages in that old sketchbook, it was that page that fell open. The other pogues had gone inside, still bickering over something small. I looked back down over the sketchbook, the rest of both pages were scribbly, messy written words, strung together in sentences. Tears pricked my eyes. I looked at JJ once more. He was still scratching the back of his neck, his gaze stuck on the floor. 

“Do you mind if I read this?” I ask quietly. 

He just slowly nodded his head and mumbled a “go ahead.” 

I looked down at the letter once more. One big clump of text, waiting to be read. I started at the top. 

“Y/n. I hope you never see this because I would probably die if you did. I don’t know how to talk about my feelings. I’m never good at it unless it just us. You bring out a softer side in me. When I’m with you I want to be better. I know you deserve better, and you have helped me work toward that. Every time I get into with my dad or a kook I know you’ll be there for me, always. You’ve taken care of me like no one ever has before. I think that’s why I have fallen so hard for you. Not that I would tell you. No pogue on pogue macking.” I laughed slightly thinking about Kie and Pope. “You have made me a better person. You’re beautiful, and I’m not just talking about the way you look, but that too. I guess what I’m trying to say is…” the in larger letters, trailing down the right side beside the portrait in bold scratched letters, “I think I might be in love with you?” I hadn’t realized the tears that fell from my face. JJ had never been this vulnerable before. I was surprised that he even let me read it. I looked up at JJ. The other pogues had quieted down inside, wondering what was happening on the porch. 

“J” I stepped closer handing the book back to him. “That was beautiful.” My voice was quiet, barely over a whisper. I swallowed as he took the book back and started to walk past me to the door. 

I grabbed onto his wrist, pulling him back to me. We were so close that I could feel his breath on my face. I looked into his eyes, as his eyes flashed between my eyes and my lips. I nodded slightly and before I knew it his lips were on mine. It was not like another kiss I had ever had. I heard JJ drop the sketchbook and I felt his hands on my waist pulling me even closer. One of my hands resting on his shoulder the other resting on his jaw. The kiss was sweet, it was soft. The emotions that we both had been bottling coming out at that moment. He tasted like mint and smoke, something that I could get used to. 

“Umm guys” I heard Pope’s voice from inside muffled by the door. Then a few small gasps followed by a laugh or two. 

JJ and I pulled away from one another out foreheads resting against each other. JJ moved one hand to wipe my still wet cheeks. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

-- MASTERLIST--

[lackingspace]

Dyad (Vincent x Reader x Bo)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: A nice evening watching your art boyfriend paint....who am I kidding, its smut.

Warnings: Praise kink, Dirty talk like normal, Creampie, Cockwarming, More Dirty talk, Bo being sweet (wow), Oral, Cumeating?

A/N:I’m still on House of Wax boys. I love them. Please take a disgusting Vincent x Reader x Bo. It’s not a weird husband brother thing tho.･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Now has Part 2: Dyad II

Ao3: Dyad

You’d just finished dinner chatting with Lester about some new clients you’d gotten at the tattoo shop. There was at least one crazy story a week being a few towns over with a much more ‘metro’ clientele. He loved hearing about your work and all the weirdos that wandered in wanting just the most ridiculous things. 

With him being your foster brother the two of you had a different relationship. See, when their parents had died none of them were 18 yet, so they were stuck in foster care. And of course, the system had failed to keep them together. Lucky for them though, your parents were actually decent humans.��

They’d tried to house all 3, but rules and regulations had prevented it. However, a social worker your father had guilt-tripped had been kind enough to ‘accidentally’ drop a card that had the number and address to where his brothers were homed. They never came to visit him, always the other way around, which sucked, because it sounded like their home wasn’t the greatest. So it was only Lester that joined your family. 

Your father loved taking him out hunting, your mother doted on him, and you grew to consider him an actual brother. The two of you could talk about anything and everything. Your father liked to say y’all got on like two peas in a pod. Which you always rolled your eyes at, but it was true, so even when he’d turned 18 and wandered off back to his brothers he still kept in touch. Visiting on some holidays and special occasions. 

He was even your biggest supporter when you started your tattoo apprenticeship- going as far to volunteer as your first guinea pig. And God did he still have a terrible outline of a turtle on his ankle. You’d offered to cover it up, but he always refused and said he loved it just how it was. 

So when you’d decided to visit him for a change, well, that was a surprise to everyone. You knew where the town was, could see the address clearly from the foster papers your parents had. And he’d told you plenty times that’s where they’d all headed back to. So, you’d used an old map and made your way into the town. 

You’d freaked Bo out when you’d asked for Lester and then knew his name too. He thought you were a fed at first, but everything cleared up when you explained. Lester also ran in frantically scared he hadn’t made it in time when he’d found your jeep outside town, but it all worked out. You’d even picked Vincent’s brain about technique and swooned over his art. So Bo had begrudgingly accepted you into their lives.

And that’s how you’d come to be a regular occupant with these boys. At first just to visit your foster brother, but then to visit with them all. Staying a night here and there, until you’d ended up hooking up with Vincent. Then a while later Bo too. And it just became a thing unquestioned between you three. 

So there you were, packing up a dinner for each of the twins who were still messing about in town. Wasn’t anything complicated-- Bo had mentioned he’d wanted chicken fried steak a few nights ago and you’d thought to be nice and make it, some gravy, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Not a very health-conscious dinner, but it was nice to cheat every so often.

Closing the last lid on your care package you grabbed them both and turned to Lester, “I’m gonna go bother the twins, Les. I’ll see ya in the mornin, k?” He nodded and waved you off, “Yeah, night, sis!” you grabbed your bag and made your way down into town. 

Stopping by the station first, you found Bo and set the food down next to where he was working. He was in a good mood because he leaned down and gave you a quick peck, “Thanks, pumpkin.” you gave him a smile and turned to leave only to feel a swat to your ass, “Bo!” he looked smug as hell, “That tight ass skirt is criminal. Couldn’t help myself, darlin.” You only shook your head and headed to Vincent. 

He was currently working on an oil painting and it was beautiful. Of course it was though, your boyfriend was insanely talented. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle. It didn’t even phase him as he continued on with his brush strokes. “I brought you dinner and yeah before you say anything you need to eat. I know you haven’t all day so don’t even try.” 

You heard him huff in annoyance behind his mask. Vincent only had a temper when he was interrupted while in a flow. But you understood, being an artist yourself, but he could be mad all he wanted- food was important.

“I swear once you eat, you can go back to it, I have some sketching to do too. She’s gorgeous by the way, I like the lighting and use of discordance.” Not that you’d see, but Vincent still flushed when you complimented him so nonchalantly. He’d never tell you it was a painting of you. It was a close up of your torso twisting warped in pleasure-- the face distorted so you wouldn’t realize the subject. He agreed silently though, you were beautiful.  

Practically inhaling the food, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank you” before immediately replacing his mask and going back to work. You pulled your sketchbook out and set to designing some of your new client’s pieces. After an hour or so, sleep had started to set in and so you laid on the mattress he had while you watched him work until you drifted off. 

Vaguely waking when you felt yourself being lifted you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled closer. The hand on your back started to soothingly rub up and down once you’d gripped him. Sleep was shaking off with each step he took and you blamed his neck for smelling so good, but you couldn’t stop yourself from lightly placing kisses against his pulse. 

The grip on your thighs tightening when the pecks turned to open mouth kisses. And his breath hitched when the nibbling started. He was all but ready to just have you out in the street when you’d placed the first few bites, but he restrained himself and kept moving towards the house. Groaning when you licked up his neck to his ear and moaned, “Vinny, I’m so wet. I was dreaming about riding you, ya know.” 

The strangled moan that left him had you giggling, “Can I please do it when we get home? Let me sink down onto you while you fuck up into me?” He choked out a sob of agreement and power walked the last few feet home. He was on you once you’d set foot into his room. 

Mask off instantly- mouth swooping down to drown you in kiss after kiss. His hands gently gripped your face as his tongue catishly teased your lips. Tilting your head he nipped at your bottom lip as you reached down and ran a hand over his clothed rock solid cock. Arousal flushed through your system like you were caught in a fire. His open mouth groan gave you the opportunity to dip your tongue in to graze the roof of his mouth and then pull back to nibble on his bottom lip. Fuck, he tasted so good. Your sex pulsed when he dragged you back in for another kiss and his tongue ran against yours in a teasing dance.

Your hands had finally gotten his pants open and down enough to pull him out. He released your mouth to cry out when you gripped him tightly at the base. He pulled back to stare down as your small hand tried to wrap fully around him, but couldn’t quite manage. His hands still on your face absentmindedly ran through your hair as you cooed, “God, you look so fucking yummy, Vincent. I’m dripping looking at you, and all that’s for me?” his tip was angrily swollen and with so much pre-cum spilled over that it was leaking down the side to pool at your hand, dripping onto your wrist. 

He whined when you dropped to your knees and licked as much up in one go as you could. You showed him it on your tongue before you swallowed. Moving closer you rubbed his cock around your lips smearing any leftover before taking his tip into your mouth as you felt your clit pulse. Moaning around him as you swirled your tongue around his pulsing head. He sobbed as you gave a light suck and your hands twisted around his base. His hands still in your hair pushed you- shakily pleaded you to take more in your mouth. 

You were happy to oblige when he was moaning so sweetly for you. Bobbing up and down in at a moderate pace as your hands worked him at the base until you pulled up to flick your tongue against his frenulum which had his grip tighten in your hair. Your hips were moving in want of some kind of relief, seeking some kind of pressure. Swirling your tongue once again around the tip and then giving a flat lick to the head as you pulled off. 

You looked up at him pathetically, “I love when you fuck my face, Vinny, but I really wanna ride you.” Your hips arched and you pressed your breast against his knees as you mouthed the underside of his cock, “My pussys so empty and achy right now. Need your cock stretching me open.” Licking the underside from base to tip you pleaded as you rubbed your cheek against him, “Please Vinny? You’ll feel so good inside my hot wet cunt. I promise I’ll take you deep and let you cum inside. Fill me up till its leaking out of my messy hole.” the sound he made was almost inhuman. A cross between a growl, gunt, and sob as he scooped you up and rapidly set to undressing you. 

Between sloppy kisses and grabbing hands the two of you were finally on his bed. You straddling him while his hands gripped your hips. You were leaning down sloppily kissing as you let you hips writhe against him. With every whirl, his cock was slipping through your folds hitting your clit just right and God did it feel so good. Breathlessly releasing his lips you leaned back and gripped him by the base.

Locking eyes as you lifted yourself to sink down had your core fluttering as you took each solid inch. Finally seating it all you took a moment to just feel. He was so fucking thick and stretched your pussy open so good. Circling your hips to rub your clit against him had you clench around him. He groaned at the feel of you tightening before he reached a hand up and pinched a nipple of your aching breast. You cried out at the pain and placed both hands on his stomach as you rocked your hips back and forth-- letting him feel your walls hug him.

He gripped a breast as you lifted your hips to drop back on him. The drag was delicious and had your head toss back a moan as you felt the fire in your belly kick up. “Oh, fuck Vincent, you feel so good in me.” he hummed in agreement as he flicked your neglected nipple. Rising to fall back down he hit so deep and fuck was it good. Arousal was coursing straight to your clit having it pulse in time with every downward stroke. 

His hand at your hip leisurely thumbing circles into your skin as you picked up the pace- taking him as deep as you could with each fall. You’d slowly built up until you were bouncing on his cock babbling about how good he was stretching you open and how deep his cock hit. Both hands were back at your hip pulling you down harder as he fucked his hips up into you while watching your tits bounce. 

Everything was building, you were tense, hot- like you were burning up, could feel the familiar heat of an orgasm building in your lower stomach like lead. You were so close, but you wanted his cum first, “Oh, fuck! Vinny I’m so close! Please, please I want your cum in my cunt! Please, I need it filling me up before I cum.” You sobbed out a cry when he moved his thumb to circle harshly on your clit, “Vincent, god you’re so fucking sexy. Please, I want you to fuck your cum up into me!”

He moaned when you said that and arched as he shot his thick cum deep inside you. The hot sensation of being so filled pushed you over the edge and had your moaning out a cry as your own back arched. His hips were still jerkily fucking into you and when you finally looked down you saw his cock was covered in his own milky white essence when he pulled out. 

Fuck that looked so good and somehow even after your intense orgasm fire shot back down your spine- almost like an aftershock. Leaning down you gave him a long lazy kiss before you pulled away to ask, “Could you put it back in? I wanna keep your cum inside and cock warm while we fall asleep.” He ran a hand over his face and through his hair as he groaned out a single, “Fuck.” but he pulled your back to his chest and as you settled down his thigh lifted one of yours for him to slowly push his softening cock back inside you. Some of his cum that’d started leaking out helped him slip in easier.

You pushed your hips back against him, “Oh, Vincent you feel so good like this.” His hand rested low on your stomach pulling your hips to his as he came back up to kiss at your pulse before you turned your face to lock lips. He settled in behind you and after a few minutes the both of you were out like candles. 

Something was coaxing your senses back awake. The light was blinding when you’d tried to open your eyes, only to shut them again. You could hear your breathing was heavy and felt the warmth in your lower stomach. A second later you figured out what it was when you felt a hot tongue lick though your folds to end at your clit with a swirl. Moaning you pushed your hips into the mouth as you opened your eyes again. 

When your vision finally focused you saw Bo’s head between your legs sloppily eating you out.

You moaned Bo’s name as his tongue dipped into your center before he sucked your clit into his mouth. He released you with a pop, “Mornin, Pumpkin” You’d tried to return it, but when he dipped his tongue back through your folds you moaned again. 

He spread your pussy open with two fingers to tongue fuck your hole before he pulled back, “Fuck, princess, your pussy’s tangy this morning.” You groan because fuck that thought of why was hot and you finally answered, “That’d be vincent’s cum. Somes probably still there. Asked him to keep my pussy plugged with his cock.” You thought it’d maybe deter Bo, but all he did was drag his tongue back into you and dipped in as deep as he could reach. He licked up to flick your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your legs jerk open wide and hips buck into him when he swirled and then sucked. 

Taking his mouth off you, he climbed his way up until you were caged in face to face. He gave you a scrutinizing look and you caught your breath as you stare back. Snaking your Legs up to grip his hips your ankles lock around the backs of his upper thighs. Damn, he came prepared. No boxers to be found and shit he felt so good-- he has such fucking solid thighs.

He breaks your internal chatter and brings you back with, "Yeah? You let my baby bro cum all in your cunt and didn’t wash?" You shrugged sheepishly and offered, "We were tired...plus, baby bro? he’s like 2 minutes younger." Bo huffed a laugh while swooping down to your neck, "Two minutes still means younger. And that makes him the baby." Before you could retort he ground his hips against yours. Cock sliding through your folds to catch your clit had you whimper out a moan. 

He licked up your neck to nibble on your ear while still grinding against you, "Wanna know a secret, sunshine? I actually prefer when you’re a dirty slut and leave his cum inside." A plus shot down to your core and settled in your clit, "Just means I get the pleasure of fucking it outta ya and filling it up with my own." You groaned and tightened your thighs around him "Oh fuck, Bo! You’re disgusting. You like your twin’s sloppy seconds?" He leaned back and gripped the base of his cock and pushed in your opening as he snickered, "Yeah, I do. I heard the two of you fucking last night, was hoping he’d cum inside. And besides, it don’t look to me like you or your pussys complaining." He gave a harsh trust, “In fact, with how wet you got and how hard you clenched,  I’d wager you like it too.”

[mamaspresley]

timing | jbr

a/n: this is messy bc im writing it at 3am BUT enjoy john b tellin the gang ur dating <3

word count: 1.1k+

pairing(s): john b x pogue girlfriend!reader

warning(s): mentions of sex, fluff

“Where is Pope? It’s been, like, thirty minutes.” Kie stood, leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as she rolled her eyes. JJ checked his watch, leaning over to show Kie the time. “John B, just say whatever you wanted to say. Fill in Pope later.”

“He has to be here,” John B said firmly, shaking his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. You glanced over at him from your seat across the room, sitting on the ratty couch that had accompanied The Chateau’s front porch since before you could remember. John B met your eyes, a glimmer of worry in his irises and you shook your head slightly, as if to tell him to stop worrying. 

“What is going on with you two?” JJ asked, gesturing between you and John B with his pointer finger. Kie nodded, standing up straight as she eyed both of you, and you scoffed. 

“Nothing,” you said, leaning back against the couch as you crossed your arms over your chest, resting your right leg over your left. “What’s going on with you two?”

Both JJ and Kie laughed, sharing an incredulous look before they both began denying whatever assumption you had just made—to be honest, you didn’t even pay attention to what you said. You were too worried about the news you and John B had to tell the group. 

“I’m here! I’m here!” Pope rushed onto the small porch, placing a hand on the wall to support him as he bent over, breathing heavily. The boy used the back of his hand to wipe his forehead, laughing breathlessly as he glanced up at his friends. “You guys would not believe the day I’ve had. First, my dad made me deliver groceries to this sketch ass place down on the Figure 8—”

“Pope, shut up,” JJ interrupted, pushing himself off his seat to stand beside the boy and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “John B, here, has something he would like to tell us. So go ahead, John B.”

You shared a look with the brown haired boy, raising your eyebrows and giving a slight nod. He gulped, tearing his eyes away from you to look at the group, who stared back at him expectantly. 

“Y/N and I are together,” he said. You weren’t sure what sort of reaction you were expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t no reaction at all. JJ raised his eyebrows, glancing between both of you as Pope smiled and Kie scoffed. 

“What happened to no Pogue-on-Pogue macking? Y/N, you were like the only other person who actually thought that rule was reasonable,” Kie said, lowering her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you glanced at John B, who was waiting for your response, and then back to Kiara. 

“Well…” you trailed off, looking down at your feet before meeting Kie’s gaze again. “It kind of happened… before the rule was put in place?”

The girl’s jaw dropped as you uttered those words sheepishly, wrapped your arms around yourself. Three months. It’d been three months of you and John B sneaking around, and it’d also been three months since the Pogue Constitution was put in place. Seeing the way that Kiara looked at you, you felt a little guilty. John B could see it on your face, which is why he stepped in. 

“We wanted to tell you guys right away but we were afraid it would mess up the group dynamic,” John B said with honesty, and you nodded in agreement as a way to back him up. “We wanted to wait until we knew this wasn’t some fling. That we actually have feelings for one another.”

John B reached over, placing his large hand over yours and you looked up at him, smiling genuinely. The two of you shared a look, John B turning back to smile at you and you returned the favour with a blush of your own. You seemed to get caught in the moment, both of you staring at each other, before you were rudely pulled away by your friends’ immature comments. 

“Oh, this is serious, guys,” Pope said. “They have actual feelings for each other.” His tone made you scoff, pulling your hand away from John B’s to smack the other boy across the arm.

“So you guys have been lying to our faces for three months?” Kie asked incredulously, her arms crossed and she stared down at the two of you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth to speak but Kie did before you could. “This entire time you two were doing it behind our backs?”

“That’s kinda hot,” JJ said, earning himself a smack upside the head from Pope. JJ rolled his eyes, grabbing Pope’s arm to hold him back from slapping him again. “Well, have you guys done it? I wanna know if Y/N got the John D yet.”

“JJ, shut up,” Kie mumbled.

“So you guys aren’t mad?” you asked, glancing up at your three friends. They all shook their heads no, and you smiled as you looked at your boyfriend. “I told you they wouldn’t mind. You worried for nothing.”

“Oh, we do mind,” Kie corrected, raising an eyebrow at you. You frowned, urging her to go on. “If I catch you guys in the middle of something—”

“We know,” John B said, smiling small as he looked at you. You giggled as he kissed the back of your hand, earning a gagging noise from JJ, who was bent over mimicking throwing up. You rolled your eyes, sticking up the middle finger at him as John B laughed. He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “No public displays of affection, no hooking up in my bedroom while you guys are in the living room.”

“That last one was oddly specific,” Pope observed, lowering his eyebrows skeptically at the two of you.

“You guys totally fucked while we were in the other room,” JJ concluded, letting out a laugh as he pointed at both of you. “Of course! I knew it. I knew y’all had fucked. Y/N isn’t half as uptight as before—” John B cut him off with a kick to his shin, and JJ groaned in pain, reaching down to hold his leg.

“You definitely deserved that,” you said and JJ only grunted in response. 

“Well I hope you guys work out,” Kie said, looking between you and John B, who still held each other’s hands. “And I know you will. I can tell you really like each other. I mean, it’s been obvious for years.”

“Years?” the both of you said in unison.

“Dude, you’ve literally been in love with each other since, like, the first grade,” Pope said matter-of-factly. Blushing, you looked over at John B who was doing an awful job at hiding his smile. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t start dating before now,”

“Yeah, y’all are slow,” JJ said, still clutching his leg to his chest. You smiled, shrugging as you felt John B give your hand a squeeze.

“It was all about the timing,” he said, smiling at you.

[sonicgetsrawed]

Can’t Sleep, Won’t Sleep

I’ve given up on the cheese names y’all! Here’s a fluffy? Varianxhugo oneshot! Enjoy!

Varian couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t anything wrong, per say. He knew when something was wrong, he’d stay up all night tossing and turning, refusing to fall asleep because he knew he’d have nightmares about any of the various unfortunate events that had happened in his young life. No, this wasn’t like those times, this was something different. It was almost a sinking feeling, that strange place between joy and fear, the calm before the storm. Tomorrow they would start their journey for the last totem and from there it would be over. They’d go their separate ways, possibly to never see each other again. It was an odd bittersweet that gnawed at his insides and prevented him from sleeping. So he gave up the notion, dragging himself from his tent and perching on a log. He settled his journal on his lap, the journal much like Rapunzel had, she had given it to him before he left. He didn’t use it for anything but his alchemy notes, the odd doodle in the corner, but tonight he needed something to clear his head. He flipped to a blank page, almost at the end of the journal, it seemed that too was ending.

He sighed, gripping his pencil tightly as he brought it to the paper. He didn’t think after that, just let the pencil flow as it so chose. The end result was messy, sketch lines all to evident in the work, but he was satisfied with it nonetheless. He flipped the page fully intending to start another drawing when footsteps sounded behind him. He didn’t need to look to know it was Hugo, still he waited for the other to speak before acknowledging him.

“I can hear you moping all the way from my tent.” Hugo nudged him. Instead of moving over Varian opted to sink onto the grass, Hugo settling behind him.

“I’m not moping, just thinking.” Varian responded, snuggling further into Hugo’s touch as the other wrapped his arms around him.

“Well, you’re thinking pretty loudly.”

Varian just hummed in response, turning his eyes to the stars. “What will you do, when this is all over?”

He felt Hugo stiffen behind him, hold tightening ever so slightly around him. Hugo let out a puff of air, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. “Don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it.”

Varian turned in his grip, blue eyes searching Hugo’s green ones. “Liar.”

“Fine. I’ve thought about it, but it’s not pretty.” Hugo admitted, rolling his eyes.

Varian leaned back against him, closing his eyes. “Tell me anyways?”

Hugo sighed, placing a kiss on top of his head. “I think Nuru would return to her kingdom. Probably become the wisest queen they ever had. I think about Yong, he would return to his home as well. He would open a fireworks stand, the little pyromaniac.”

Varian laughed interlacing his fingers with his boyfriend’s. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Wait for it.” Hugo placed another kiss to his head, this one softer somehow, sadder. “I think about you. You’d return to Corona, mom in hand. You’d be happy. Your family whole again. You’d spend the weekends at the castle with that other princess friend of yours. The rest of the time at your home with your crazy family. Ruddiger would have all the apples he could possibly imagine.”

“Ruddiger thanks you for that.” Varian chuckled.

Hugo laughed a bit himself, the action sounding forced. “You’d have everything you ever wanted. You wouldn’t need me. I think about myself. Left behind, forgotten, nowhere to go, no place to call home. No real family.”

Varian felt the steady drip of tears falling into his hair. He turned in his seat, cupping Hugo’s face as best he could given their current position, thumb wiping away the stray tears. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not really, no.” Hugo answered one a way that would have been much more defiant if it wasn’t for the sniffle that followed.

Varian just shook his head, it was just like him to put up a wall despite that he was literally falling apart in front of him. “I think you’re right about Nuru and Yong. But you’re wrong about the rest. I think I’d return to Corona with you and my mom. My dad would give you a hard time, but you’d grow on him. Same with Aunt Adira and Uncle Hector, probably Eugene too. Rapunzel and Lance would love you right away. So will mom, I think. Ruddiger will have a normal amount of apples.”

“I’d sneak him a few.”

Varian yawned, turning around and placing his head on Hugo’s thigh like a pillow. “I know you will. We’ll spend holidays with Nuru, picking up Yong on the way. Maybe we’ll even see Cass. We’ll spend the days at the castle, always returning home in time for dinner. We can swim in the lake in the summers and skate on it in the winters. We’ll be a family. You’ll always have a home with me. I’m not letting you go so easily. You’re stuck with me.”

Varian closed his eyes, placing a kiss on the other’s knee. He didn’t see Hugo’s smile, or when he picked up the discarded journal. Instead he focused on the way Hugo’s arms wrapped around him, how his touch felt like electricity in the best way, and how he melted every time he kissed him. And it was with those thoughts that Varian fell asleep.

Hugo, however, stayed awake. His fingers tracing the drawing in the journal. It was a big group portrait, some people he recognized, some he didn’t. But what really caught his attention was that him and Varian were in the middle of it all. The picture Varian placing a kiss on picture Hugo’s cheek. He smiled softly, placing the journal on the ground and pulling Varian closer to him. He knew the other was already asleep, it didn’t matter to him, he still placed a soft kiss to his cheek.  

“I love you, Varian.” He whispered, knowing the words fell on deaf ears. Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to actually say them to the other, but for now this would suffice.

He knew he wouldn’t go to sleep. He didn’t know what the future held, so he needed to stay in this moment as long as possible. He refused to sleep, he wouldn’t let the time pass so quickly. So he stayed awake, focusing on the way Varian felt against him, memorizing each freckle on his face, as if it was the last time he’d get to do this. And it was with those thoughts Hugo stayed awake.

[the-regal-warrior]

Earl Grey and Cappuccinos: Part Three

The next part is finally here. It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s fluffy. Also, you’ll notice that this story is mostly just me indulging myself and @nalgenewhore - but it’s such an adorable story that I don’t think you guys will mind. Oh, and y’all can thank Isa for the adorable new couple you’re about to meet.

Summary: It’s a Coffee Shop AU meets Rival Tattoo Artists AU meets Elorcan - do I even need to say anything else?

Warnings: Language and fluff, my friends.

.

Elide had been going through her appointment book while she sat at her desk in the office, trying to decide which sketches she needed to get started on, when her phone lit up with a text from Lorcan. Glancing down, she saw that all he’d written was: send help, the guys are dicks. 

She sent him a quick reply - aww, you poor thing - before grabbing her bag and making for the door. “Nehemia,” she called, rapping her knuckles on the counter to get the other girl’s attention. “I’m heading out - you’re in charge of any appointments anyone wants to make with me.”

Nehemia just offered her a wry grin. “And where could you possibly be off to? Going to see the boyfriend, perhaps?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Elide quipped back, winking as she backed into the front door to push it open. “You didn’t shut up about Sorscha for at least a month after the two of you started dating.”

“Oh please,” she huffed, though her giggles followed Elide onto the sidewalk. “It was only two weeks!”

Chuckling to herself, Elide slipped her headphones into her ears as she made her way to Cadre Ink, only making one stop on her way. She listened to the Dead Kennedys the entire walk, and she found that she loved the music even more because it reminded her of Lorcan. 

When she finally pulled open the door to Cadre Ink and pulled her headphones out of her ears, she couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of her throat when she realized the exact same album was playing over the shop’s speakers. 

Most likely hearing her laughter along with the jingling of the bell hanging over the door, Vaughan looked up from the front desk. “Hey, Elide,” he greeted, vaulting over the counter as she pulled the door shut behind her. “Something amusing about the ridiculous music your boyfriend picked out this morning?”

Still giggling, she replied, “no, not at all - I love his music.” When he just arched one eyebrow, she elaborated, “I was listening to the same album on the way over here.”

“Ridiculous. The both of you are completely ridiculous.” Vaughan just shook his head at her, though he did wrap an arm around her shoulders as she walked up to him, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. He and Lorcan had grown up together, and Elide knew that her boyfriend was thrilled that the two of them got along so well. 

Flicking the side of his head, she wiggled out of his embrace so she could glare up at him. Even though she was a head (and then some) shorter than literally all of the boys who worked at the shop, she still had the impressive ability of being able to glare down her nose at all of them. “You love us and you fucking know it.”

Vaughan huffed a laugh. “You, I’ll admit to. But not the fucker you call your boyfriend.” 

“Trying to discourage her from dating the brooding motherfucker in the back, are you?” Fenrys wandered into the lobby just as Vaughan finished speaking, hauling himself up so he could sit on the counter. “What’s good, E?”

“Well, my tits, but we all knew that. And my taste in men, obviously.” When Fenrys just scoffed at her, she leaned her weight against his thigh, digging her elbow into the sensitive skin hard enough that he winced. “What do you have against my mans?”

“Fuck, woman, stop bruising me!” Fen pinched her arm until she backed off, Vaughan just laughing quietly at the two of them. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s a brooding motherfucker?”

“Yes, you asshole, aside from that.”

“He’s just a miserable prick, E. I don’t know how you put up with his whining.” Vaughan nodded along with his words, and Elide just shook her head at the two of them.

“He’s hot,” she quipped, walking toward the office at the back of the building. “And he really knows how to use his hands!” That last bit was shouted over her shoulder, and she heard both of them groan at what she was implying.

Waving at Gavriel where he was busy prepping for a client in his suite, Elide continued her walk into the back, rapping her knuckles on the open door into Connall’s piercing suite as she stopped to poke her head in. “Hey, Con.”

“Hey,” he greeted, offering her a gentle smile as he nodded at the drink in her hand. “Bringing a certain someone his tea?”

“Like any good girlfriend would,” she joked, lifting it once in his direction as she backed out of the room. “Better get it to him before it cools too much.”

Connall just chuckled. “We wouldn’t want his highness drinking cold tea.”

“It would be a tragedy,” she quipped, waving as she moved down the hallway. She walked into the office just as Rowan was standing from his chair, and he grinned at the sight of her. Lorcan was sitting with his back to the door, his hair tied up in a messy bun as he worked on a sketch, the pencil practically flying over the paper. 

Rowan brushed by her, knocking his shoulder into hers in greeting even as he chuckled quietly at the tea in her hands. She just smiled and leaned into him quickly, happy that Lorcan’s friends had quickly become her friends, too.

Walking up behind her boyfriend, she carefully set his tea on the desk next to him before she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hey there, handsome.”

Though he’d startled at her initial touch, he practically melted into her embrace when he heard her voice in his ear. She barely had time to press her lips to the side of his neck before he was turning his chair around to face her. “Hello, my love.”

She realized he was wearing his glasses as he worked, and she was quite taken by the way he looked with his hair up and his glasses on. Though she thought he looked hot no matter what he was wearing, this had to be one of her favorite looks. She’d just stepped back further to really take him in, but Lorcan’s hands on her thighs stopped her in her tracks.

“Damn, mamas,” he whistled, eyes lighting up as he looked her up and down. She was wearing an old black t-shirt of his that she’d stolen from him the last time he spent the night, and since he was over a foot taller than her, it hit her mid-thighs. She’d paired it with fishnets and her Doc Martens, her dark hair in two Dutch braids that fell over her shoulders. He slowly slid his hands up her thighs, under her - well, his - t-shirt, as he said, “if I let my hands keep wandering, will I find cotton or lace?”

Leaning down to brush her lips against his in the barest hint of kiss even as he hands kept moving, Elide just whispered, “denim, babes.” She smirked as his fingers hit the bottom of her admittedly very tiny shorts and he groaned, his head falling against the back of his chair.

“Such a little tease,” he replied, pulling her down into his lap. He lifted one hand to twist one of her braids around his finger, the other pulling her hips down into his. She groaned at the feeling of his hardening length rocking gently against her clothed pussy, and he smirked up at her. “But I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

She rocked her hips into his, laughing when he hissed out a breath. “I just like you for the pretty little noises you make.”

He laughed at that, a loud sort of laugh that echoed around the room. She’d come to realize that wasn’t a sound he made very often, and it sent a thrill of happiness through her every time she made him laugh. Cupping her face in both of his hands, Lorcan pulled her down so he could kiss her, a simple, sweet kiss that cooled the passion that had been burning between them moments ago but was still full of so much feeling. 

Pulling back until he could look into her eyes, he offered her a happy little grin. “So what brings you here, my love?”

“Well, you told me to send help.” Leaning over his shoulder, she grabbed the tea he hadn’t seen in his excitement over seeing her. “So I thought an Earl Grey might be just the kind of help you needed.”

A truly beautiful smile spread over his face as he took the cup from her hands. “Elide,” he breathed, ghosting his fingers over her cheek. “This is perfect - thanks, mamas.”

“You got it, babes.” She leaned down to kiss his jaw. “I know how to keep my man happy.”

Lorcan pouted his lips at her for a kiss, which she obliged. “You most definitely do.” He leaned up to kiss her again, this one growing deeper as he carefully set his tea on the desk behind him. She wound her arms around his neck as his slipped back around her waist, and she found herself cupping the back of his head so she could angle his head and kiss him harder.

He’d just started rolling her hips over his lap when someone heaved a massive sigh from the doorway. “Will you two fiends get a room already, for the love of the gods!”

Lorcan had barely pulled his lips from hers before he was grabbing a stress ball from his desk and chucking it toward the door. Though all five guys had gathered in the doorway at Fenrys’s exclamation, it hit him right in the forehead, sending everyone else into hysterics.

Even as she laughed at the absolute bewilderment on Fen’s face, Elide couldn’t help the happiness growing in her heart. Lorcan’s friends had accepted her as one of them, and that meant everything to her. She knew how much this little family he’d created meant to him, and she was thrilled that she got to be a part of it.

.

Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @city-of-fae @musicmaam @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @tacmc @tangledraysofsunshine @lordof-bloodshed @how-to-be-a-bad-ass-be-me @nalgenewhore @bookrebelwordwarrior @sleeping-and-books @photofeesh @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @belamoonbeam @mis-lil-red @julemmaes @empress-ofbloodshed @thesirenwashere @mynewdreamwasyou @illyrianshadowhunter

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from my tags, just let me know. And let me know what you thought!

[grrover]

Title: you’re no better at swimming than you were in the beginning, but you come over at night and we practice all the breathing (Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase)

Word Count: 7.3k

Summary:  “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

 AU - Mortals, Neighbors

Author’s note: I was listening to Lorde’s “No Better” and the lyrics that I used for the title have always inspired me to create something, so I wrote this (closely based on those lyrics and loosley based on the song in general). I haven’t written fanfiction in 4 years, so I’m a little rusty. This was originally supposed to be a quick one-shot but quickly turned into something more, so I hope y’all enjoy!

[on AO3]

Annabeth was terrified of water. 

Swimming pool, pond, lake, ocean – it was all the same to her. It was as if the substance was alive, waiting to consume her whole. She wasn’t entirely sure when her vendetta against water had begun. Maybe it was during those infant swimming lessons her dad had attempted with her (the supposed reflex for baby Annabeth to flip herself onto her back just never kicked in). Maybe it was just her fear of the unknown because with Annabeth she had to know, and the fact that the most concrete fact about the ocean was that 95% of it was unknown wasn’t cutting it for her. She’ll stay on land. She’ll stay dry. She’ll stick to what she knew.

And that’s exactly what she did. That’s what she did when she was asked on her first date in the eighth grade, her step-mother nearly exploding with excitement as she stormed through Annabeth’s closet picking what she should wear, asking where he was taking her. The answer was initially going to be a ride on his boat, but Annabeth insisted on going to an arcade instead. She knew the place, she won all the games, he didn’t ask her out again. She knew he wouldn’t, she knew she could be intimidating… so why not test the waters?

That’s also what she did after Piper had grabbed her by the belt loops and kissed her at the beginning of ninth grade. She allowed herself to dip her toe into the unknown – just for a couple of months – exploring what could be a relationship with one of her closest friends. It was good, she liked girls, she knew she liked girls. But she also knew that Piper was not for her, not right now. She was better off as Annabeth’s friend. She knew that. And she knew Piper knew that too.

***

That’s not what she did when Percy Jackson moved next door the month before her sophomore year. Messy haired, browned skin, green-eyed Percy. She tried to observe him from the comfort of her window nook as he aided his parents in unpacking the moving truck. He was taller than his mother, even taller than his father, and appeared to be laughing at jokes said in passing. The corner of her lip curved into a slight smile – he was nice. It was then she decided to go introduce herself when she knew the time was right; when they were done unloading boxes.

She decided to go downstairs and do something else in the meantime, rather than risking having her snooping area found out by the new neighbors. As she began to sip on a cup of water at the kitchen island, her father and half-brother’s burst through the front door, both of them bubbling with excitement. 

“The new neighbors are so cool,” Matthew exclaimed, his twin brother, Bobby, nodding vigorously in agreement. 

So much for waiting for the right time. Yet, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as well: new neighbors, cool new neighbors, with a son that was around her age. 

“Oh, really,” Annabeth rested against the island, raising her eyebrows in interest, “what’s so cool about them?”

By that point, Bobby and Matthew were nearly bouncing off the walls as they informed her of all the digestible, yet important details. Like how the son is her age, how they had just moved to San Francisco from New York City, how his name was Percy…

“And they have a massive pool in their yard. Percy said he’s going to teach us how to swim!”

Her dad just chuckled, putting a hand on both Bobby and Matthew’s shoulders as they walked closer towards the kitchen island together towards Annabeth, “Boys, you already know how to swim.”

“Annabeth doesn’t,” Bobby said as he hopped on a seat, Matthew followed suit. 

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, leaning towards the two of them from the opposite end of the island, blonde curls falling over her shoulders as she stared daggers at the twins, “Well did you tell him that?”

The lack of an answer from the two was all she needed, “I so don’t need to learn how to swim! Why would you tell him that?”

“Because you so do! He’s joining your school’s swim team so he knows his stuff,” Matthew rebutted. 

Fifth graders. Annabeth didn’t even have the time to murder them before her father sent her out to say hello. So, Annabeth stomped towards the house next door, her initial excitement about the new neighbors squashed by her annoyance for her little brothers. Of course, Percy’s a swimmer, of course, he’s going to her high school. The family was nowhere in sight outside, so Annabeth assumed that they had finished unloading the van – maybe timing worked in her favor after all.

She walked to the front door, lifting her fist to knock on it, but just as she did the door swung open and she was face to face with tall, messy-haired, browned skinned Percy. He had on a crisp olive green t-shirt, with black ripped jeans showing the scars and bruises scattered across his summer skin. His slightly overgrown jet black curls framed his face, a strand falling between his brows and resting right before the bridge of his nose. He was an unexpected hybrid between a skater boy and a surfer kid, belonging to both New York City yet appearing to be a California native simultaneously. Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the faded freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, ending perfectly under his sea-green eyes. Sea-green eyes… maybe the water wasn’t so bad after all.

Percy’s eyes darted from Annabeth’s raised fist (which she quickly lowered) to her face, his initial slight alarm turning into a pleasantly surprised grin.

“You must be Annabeth,” he said, looking down at her with mischief dancing across his eyes, “the sister who can’t swim.”

The water continued to be unbearable. 

***

“He looks like an idiot.”

“He looks like Annabeth’s type.”

Annabeth refused to look up from her sketchbook, definitely not because she was blushing, more because she was focused. AP 3-D Art and Design was one of the few classes where she could see both Piper and Thalia at the same time, with Piper being a freshman and Thalia being a senior. For Annabeth, it was a class taken to further her career, giving her the creative space and resources she needed to strengthen her architectural portfolio. For Thalia and Piper, well, they thought it would be easier. Yet with Piper never failing to have a ceramics piece explode in the kiln and Thalia’s hatred for the texture of slip, the two of them resorted to scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page.

The Jackson family had progressively started to spend more time with the Chases and, as a result, Percy and Annabeth had begun to spend more time together as well. It startled Annabeth to her core that she had begun to trust Percy so much in such a short period of time.

“I have mommy issues,” she said to him one summer day, partially a joke, partially a bitter nod to her biological mother who had abandoned her and her father. She didn’t remember the conversation that prompted her to say this, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to get out of Percy with that line. The two of them were merely lying on the loungers in Annabeth’s backyard: Annabeth with sunglasses on, staring up at the sky trying to soak up in the last few moments of summer freedom, Percy glistening with beads of water across his body because he had just lifted himself out of his pool before sprinting to Annabeth’s side to shake himself off on her. She was annoyed, yes, but the youthful laughter that spilled out from Percy’s lips upon seeing her frustration melted away all feelings of indignation.

So with all things considered, Annabeth expected an awkward laugh at least, maybe an equivalent joke about Percy’s own parental issues at best. Family problems had been one of their first bonding points, after all. But instead, Percy rolled onto his side to face Annabeth and asked in a charming yet cautious voice for Annabeth to take off her sunglasses. 

After gazing into her eyes, after seeing what was truly behind that statement, he simply asked “Do you want to talk about her?”

And that’s all Annabeth needed that afternoon.

What she didn’t need was Thalia and Piper scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page when they should be doing their work.

“Please don’t like anything on accident,” Annabeth begged as she leaned over to look at the picture Piper had pulled up. It was Percy submerged in the blue of the ocean, fish swarming around his body as he flashed a peace sign at the camera. He was wearing a wetsuit and scuba diving gear, his fin-wearing feet floating beneath him, brushing the coral and sand that lay at the bottom, as his upper body turned towards the camera. And despite the regulator that covered his mouth Annabeth could tell he was wearing a shit-eating grin based off of the gleam of excitement and mischief present in his eyes. Percy fucking Jackson.

“He’s definitely an idiot, Thalia, and he’s definitely not my type, Piper,” Annabeth replied before assuming the position she had before, going back to her sketch. 

“Oh, no, I think he’s your type,” Thalia corrected as she plucked Piper’s phone from her hands and continued to scroll down the page, “But I also think he’s an idiot. You guys would even each other out in every sense.”

She put extra emphasis on the last two words right as she turned the phone towards Annabeth, showing a similar scuba diving picture as before – God, is that all this boy could do? – that was captioned “I basically live in the water.”

Annabeth hated the water almost as much as she hated how perfect Percy’s loose curls looked floating in it.

***

The end of Annabeth and Percy’s sophomore year was bookmarked by a Jackson-Chase “End-of-Year” and “Thalia’s-Actually-Graduating” hybrid celebration. The two families opened up their fences so all invited parties could easily go in and out between the two yards, with a barbeque in the Chase backyard and the pool in the Jackson backyard being a center of wet, splashing, chaos. Annabeth’s father was at the grill rotating hot dogs and burgers, using Annabeth’s Yankees baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face in the midst of the newfound barely-even-summer-yet heat. In the distance, Annabeth could hear Bobby and Matthew hitting the surface of the Jacksons’ above ground pool, screeching and giggling as they blasted Percy with the water soakers he had gifted them earlier in the day.

“In honor of your fifth-grade graduation and the fact that I am no longer thirteen years old,” he had said in an obnoxiously declarative tone, emerging from his backdoor, a water soaker in each hand. He had the same shit-eating grin he had on in all his scuba diving photos – not that Annabeth had studied them periodically ever since that one conversation with Thalia and Piper, she would never – and his hair was beginning to become overgrown once again. 

Her brother’s beaming faces almost put Percy’s own smile to shame as they each took one as Percy finished his statement with, “Plus, I have a spare one that I can use to attack Annabeth with.”

He turned towards her and winked as her brothers voiced their gratitude and dashed to Annabeth’s kitchen to fill up their new weapons with the fatal substance.

“You need a haircut,” Annabeth said as she reached up on her tiptoes to brush Percy’s loose curls out of his face with her fingers.

“I like having my hair like this in the summer,” Percy replied, taking Annabeth’s wrist in his hand and lowering it away from his forehead, “You think it makes me look more like a Californian?”

Annabeth blamed the burning of her cheeks on the sun – God, why was it so hot today? – and nodded slowly, “Oh, yeah, I noticed the overgrown hair look in the summer. Does it make scuba diving any less terrifying, or are you just part fish? Would explain the small brain.”

She didn’t realize what her words had insinuated until Percy raised his eyebrows at her, the shit-eating grin finding its way back onto his newly freckled face. He hadn’t posted scuba diving pictures since before he moved to San Francisco at the end of last summer, and they were very much buried in his feed. The sun suddenly got a lot hotter.

So now, in the midst of this Jackson-Chase hybrid celebration, Annabeth hoped that her brothers would blast Percy with their water guns so hard that he lost all memory of that conversation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe just a little bit, but she couldn’t have Percy Jackson thinking that she liked him or anything… unless he liked her.

Annabeth aggressively bit into her vaguely burnt hot dog. Fuck, she thought, examining the scene that played out in front of her. The sun had begun to set, leaving a hazy pink mark on the horizon as a crisp warm air flooded the backyards. Piper was sitting on the table in Annabeth’s backyard (no matter how many times Annabeth’s step-mother told Piper to not do so, she never listened), facing Thalia’s little brother, Jason, who was sitting on the chair in front of her. They seemed to be caught up in an interesting conversation, based upon the sly smile and glimmer in Piper’s eyes and Jason’s animated gestures. Her father had finished grilling and was now caught up in a conversation with Thalia’s parents and Paul, Percy’s step-father.

“I had no doubt in my mind Thalia was going to graduate, I swear!” Annabeth’s father exclaimed, 

She smiled softly to herself. How bittersweet; Thalia, her mentor, her best friend, was leaving her, and it was beginning to seem like the end of an era, but maybe it was only the beginning of something else. She could still hear the shrieks and splashes coming from the Jackson side of the party, the sounds of wet feet dashing across their’ evergreen grass. Annabeth could even hear Thalia joining in on whatever rambunctious game Percy and her brothers had invented with their water soakers, screaming at Percy about how idiotic he was before more splashing took place. 

Maybe this was the beginning of Annabeth’s new era, one that had Percy Jackson in it. One that was filled with more talks like the one she had about her mother and the dozens more that followed, where she could just talk and Percy just listened, staring up at her with sea-green eyes that somehow managed to whisper all the right words in her ear. One that would allow her to continue fostering the undeniable bond that she and Percy had formed in the handful of months since he moved in next door, the bond that allowed him to let tears stream down his face as Annabeth watched and stroked his arm. She didn’t always entirely know what to say to him, and that killed her, but Percy told her that that was okay, that her just being there helped. She knew how to just be there, and she knew she wouldn’t forget how to anytime soon, either.

Maybe she did like Percy Jackson.

Maybe she could go inside the pool.

She already had on a purple swimsuit under her athletic shorts, all she need to do was go over there and dive in. Piper and Jason had already fled to the pool party side and all the adults had migrated to the Chase backyard. Annabeth jumped up and brushed her hands off on her shorts, she was going to do it. She marched towards the Jacksons’ yard and through the fence, and before her eyes could even register what was occurring she was met with three water soakers blasting her chest, stomach, and face.

“Oh my god, wait!” she screamed, putting her hands up in a pathetic attempt to stop the assault. But her screams soon dissolved into unmistakable laughter as she darted across the yard. Percy and her brothers chased after her, unforgiving with the pressure of their soakers. Piper, Jason, and Thalia picked sides from their spots inside the pool, shouting different tactics at the four players in the relentless game of chase.

“The pool is the safe spot!” Jason shouted at Annabeth, “Get in!”

He didn’t know about Annabeth’s irrational fear, fair enough. But maybe this was her cue, after all, the pool wasn’t deep, it’s not like she could drown, and if all else fails Thalia was in there to save her. Those were facts. She knew she would be fine in this pool, Percy Jackson’s above ground pool. With that, Annabeth managed to outrun Percy and her brothers and dart up the ladder of the pool before launching herself into the water.

And Annabeth wasn’t going to lie, the water was freezing and, for a split second, she was terrified. Then she felt Thalia’s warm hand on her shoulder from above the water, the laughter of all her friends, the laughter of Percy, distorted from underneath the surface. Annabeth was fine, she knew that. She broke the surface, greeting her stunned brothers and an entertained Percy Jackson with a stuck-out tongue and middle finger. Pool water, especially Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water, wasn’t that unbearable after all. 

Within the next couple of hours, Annabeth’s step-mother came to put her brothers to bed, Annabeth’s father had cleaned up from the barbeque in their backyard, the Graces had gone home, and Piper’s father sent a driver to pick her up.

“Famous father things,” Piper sighed before giving Annabeth a warm hug and jogging to the car, towel around her neck. 

Soon, it was just Annabeth and Percy in her kitchen, soaking wet with towels around the necks. Percy’s curls were weighed down by the water, sticking to his forehead. Annabeth’s blonde curls were in a similar fashion, except slicked down to the back of her head, neck, and down her back. They were both cupping mugs of tea as they sat at the kitchen island, shivering due to the cool wind that came with the near-summer nights (it probably didn’t help that Annabeth left the back sliding door wide open). She knew her step-mother would be furious that she and Percy had tracked in water from the pool, but at that moment Annabeth didn’t care. She didn’t even think about it. All she could think about was how she and Percy had stayed in the pool by themselves, hours after everybody had left, and now it was midnight and Percy Jackson was in her kitchen drinking tea with water droplets glistening all over his arms and chest with his freckles coming in across his nose and on his cheeks and his sea-green eyes looking down at her.

Annabeth knew that she was staring up at Percy as if he was the sun itself, and in a way he was. It was midnight and Percy Jackson was the sun itself. Percy Jackson’s pool water wasn’t that unbearable. The most nervewracking and electrifying part about the entire interaction was that Percy was staring right back at her, sipping his tea carefully as he tried to crack the code that was Annabeth Chase, but Annabeth hadn’t even begun to crack it herself yet.

Percy was the first one to break it – whatever it was – and put his mug down on the island with a soft clank.

“So...,” he started, and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the bead of water that ran along the curvature of his cheek, “those swimming lessons your brother’s signed you up for last summer…?”

He looked back down at her, his usual easy and playful demeanor was replaced with a mysterious and calculating gaze and Annabeth didn’t know. She didn’t know why he looked at her like that and why she looked at him like that. She didn’t know how to handle all that was Percy – he was unknown to her in every sense. He had just moved in not even a year ago and yet she had confided in him about everything and he did the same. He knew her just as well as Piper and Thalia did, and they had known Annabeth for years, what was the logic behind that? That’s what was terrifying, there was no logic to what she felt for Percy Jackson. Every nerve in her body was telling her to go to bed, tell Percy goodnight and end whatever was going on right now because she did not know where this was going. She wanted to go back onto the dry land, forget the ocean.

She looked up at Percy and pressed her lips together in a small smile, “I believe I’ll be taking them… Mr. Jackson, is it?”

The playful and shit-eating grin crashed right back into Percy’s face and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice how close they were. How she suddenly noticed the water droplets decorating his lashes and the slight pink flush that was beginning to flood the area where Percy’s freckles were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks and underneath his eyes. She also noticed how easy it would be to lean in, to grab him by the back of his sunkissed neck decorated in water droplets that the midnight light hit just right and kiss him. And she knew Percy had the same idea as well. 

And then the upstairs light flickered on and Percy jumped out of his seat.

“So, swimming lessons,” he sputtered out.

“Tomorrow?” Annabeth asked.

He grabbed his towel and attempted to return to his playful and nonchalant stance as his eyes flickered nervously up towards the staircase, and Annabeth couldn’t help but wonder which family member she had to strangle once she got upstairs, “Tomorrow.”

So that summer they had swimming lessons. Annabeth learned how to back float and Percy even began to show her proper form, detailing what do do if she ever found herself drowning. Honestly? Annabeth couldn’t care less about the different types of strokes and what makes a bad or good form. She did care about how Percy held her up in the water as he guided her arms and legs, informing her on all things swimming with his mouth close to her ear. And Annabeth could feel her ratio between knowing and unknowing grow larger, but one thing she did know for sure was that Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water wasn’t unbearable.

***

The next summer Percy Jackson’s above ground pool was replaced with an inground pool that had no shallow end, and it was as if Annabeth could see the number that represented the things she knew now and the number that represented the things she didn’t know now grow further apart in distance right before her eyes. She tried to describe her frustration to Piper and Thalia who, upon Thalia coming back from college for the summer, were at the Chase residence almost all the time now.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Piper said, sitting in the very nook that Annabeth sat in the day she watched the Jacksons move in next door. Piper looked out the window at the Jackson residence, “Plus you have an attractive swim team coming, like, twice a week now if that’s any consolation.”

Thalia made a face from her position on Annabeth’s bed, probably because she knew that Piper had a thing with her little brother at the moment. She had been concentrating on painting her nails a sickening shade of duo chromatic black and electrifying blue but flicked her eyes upwards to glance at Piper.

“For Annabeth! Not for me.”

Annabeth was being overreactive and selfish, this she knew, which is why she didn’t voice her feelings to Percy. His mom had gotten the inground pool installed in celebration for Percy being named captain of the swim team at the end of their junior year. It was also just convenient now considering that since he was the new captain, he would be able to host the team at his house. Annabeth remembered the youthful excitement that his voice carried as he told her. They were lying on Annabeth’s bed in opposite directions with their heads positioned next to one another’s. Percy had reached up to rest his hand on Annabeth’s curls as they both stared up at the ceiling and reflected on their now completed junior year. And she really was happy for him, ecstatic even. When she heard the pride that dripped from Percy’s voice as he talked about the swim team, his swim team… How could she not be? She didn’t even need to look at his face to know how genuinely happy he was, and between that and his fingers tangled in her hair, all resentment towards the inground pool had dissipated for a small moment.

All the resentment stormed back when she saw that Rachel Dare was on the swim team. She was all curly red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits. Annabeth was attracted to her yet utterly envious of her without an ounce of logic to back up her reasoning – Rachel had a girlfriend – and it was driving her insane. Add five to the “things she didn’t know” side of the ratio: why does Rachel Dare drive her crazy if she posed no threat? Why did she even feel that there were “threats” to her relationship with Percy? If she and Percy almost kissed last summer then why didn’t she bring it up? Why didn’t he bring it up? Why does she not remember anything from their swimming lessons?

“Well that won’t help,” Thalia said knowingly, examining her nails, “the only swimmer Annabeth pays attention to has lived next door the whole time.”

Annabeth felt her face begin to warm up at that statement, and it only got hotter when Piper turned from the window to smirk at Annabeth, who was seated on the carpet, “Yeah, ever since Percy developed an Apollo’s belt and a bit of abs–.”

“Okay! God!” Annabeth glared at her two friends.

She did owe them, though; that’s the answer to number five. Plus one for “things she knew”, minus one for “things she didn’t know”. There was a direct relationship between the amount of time Percy and Annabeth lived next to each other and how serious he had become about swimming, and, boy, were the results evident. Even outside of his physical appearance, Percy finished his junior year with colleges scouting him to swim on their teams. 

Annabeth remembered the amount of disbelief Percy was in, growing teary-eyed after he hung up from his phone call with UC San Diego. He came crashing into her house, insisting that he needed to be with her when he picked up the phone, claiming that he needed her to be there to comfort him after he fucked it all up. He lay stomach-down on her bed and Annabeth stood in front of him, hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back with her thumbs – he was so fucking tense – as she gazed down at him. He softly put down the phone to his side before pulling Annabeth in by the waist to hug her. Full body sobs shook through him as he cried into her shirt, burying his face deeper and deeper into Annabeth’s stomach, shaking his head. He didn’t need to say anything, Annabeth knew.

“They want me.” His voice was barely a whisper, and if Annabeth wasn’t constantly hyper-focused on Percy’s every move she would have missed it. “They really want me.”

“I know,” Annabeth put her head towards her ceiling, smiling. “I am so proud of you, Seaweed Brain.”

He had begun scuba diving again, and the nickname arose after he returned from one of his day trips. He had sent her a brand new photograph, same shit-eating grin hidden behind all the gear, fins flapping in the water, and two big thumbs up as he posed with a cluster of seaweed. So you don’t have to stalk my Instagram anymore, he had said to her. Annabeth couldn’t get enough.

“Visit me,” he had whispered.

She would have walked off the nonexistent end of the world if he had asked her to. Plus one to “things she didn’t know”: why did he have this power over her? Maybe Piper and Thalia would know the answer to this one, as well. So Annabeth told them about UC San Diego, she told them about the swimming “lessons”, she told them about the red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits.

And they looked at her like she was stupid.

“Maybe we should all be shocked when Annabeth graduates,” Thalia snorted, finally closing the bottle of nail polish and rolling it around in her hands. “All smarts and logic but can’t see what’s right in front of her.”

Annabeth blinked, unsure what to make of Thalia’s statement. She had equipped her logic – at least she tried to – to no avail. It couldn’t be the length of time she knew Percy that made her feel this way because when she wanted so badly to feel this way about Piper freshman year it didn’t work, and she had known Piper for longer. It couldn’t be due to Percy telling her everything about himself and the way to care about him, because she just knew those things, she picked up on all the little details. He never needed to tell her. Annabeth ran her fingers along the carpet and tried to continue racking her brain but nothing made sense, nothing made sense except for–.

Oh.

“You love him, and he loves you,” Piper said, turning her attention away from Annabeth to look out at the Jackson residence yet again. “Geez. I thought you knew but were just scared. Or playing dumb.”

Fucking hell. She had been doing a little bit of both; plus one to “things she knew”. 

Piper and Thalia had left her house that night with a vague threat along the lines of Annabeth having to do something about the Percy situation before they did. She had texted them both later, asking for them to give her a couple of days. She needed time to process, to think, to evaluate all the points where she had known about what she felt for Percy without actually knowing; not in the way she needed to have known anyways. Both their responses could be summarized with the words don’t overthink it.

So, of course, Annabeth took that with a grain of salt and dove straight into overthinking. She tried to find the exact moment she started to love him (Was it when they talked about her biological mother? Drinking tea at midnight, cold and soaking wet? Or was it when he drove her around in Paul’s car, promising that he wouldn’t crash it as long as she was inside?). She also tried to find the reason for why she didn’t consider love the answer for so long (Does love defy logic? Was she scared of it?). She tried to find the reasoning behind why Percy hadn’t made the first move if Piper was right; if he did love her (Well why didn’t Annabeth? If she loved him?). She was going in circles. The bridge between the low number of “things she knew” and the ever-increasing number of “things she did not know” grew so undeniably large that no architectural design that Annabeth could ever sketch would resolve it.

Days after Piper and Thalia’s big reveal, Annabeth returned to the window nook where she first saw the Jacksons move in. She hoped that it would help her arrive at all the answers, turning all her “things she did not know” into “things she knew” because she could not take anymore unknowns. She hated unknowns. All Percy Jackson brought with him from the day she first laid eyes on him were unknowns, yet she loved him. Plus one. Annabeth had a mug of tea cupped in her hands as she stared out the window, sipping is gingerly. Before Percy, this had been Annabeth’s space, this was the space where she came to all major realizations at. It comforted her then and she believed that it would now. 

So when she saw Rachel Dare pull up to Percy’s driveway in her white Mercedes with her deadly red-haired-freckled-high-cut-blue-swimsuit-under-denim-shorts combo, Annabeth thought that was her spot giving her a huge middle finger. Annabeth was projecting her own issues onto Rachel, she knew that, so why was envy still burning in her chest? She watched as Percy walked out to greet Rachel, giving her a hug from the side, before the two raced to his backyard. Probably to cannonball into Percy’s eleven-feet deep pool. Percy and Rachel knew where they stood, they had the ability to dive right in because there was no need to hesitate.

So why was Annabeth hesitating with Percy?

She loved him. People had been trying to figure out what the fuck love was since the beginning of time, through science, poetry, prose, and paintings. It was confusing, it was messy, it was unknown. Annabeth knew this. She loved Percy Jackson. Her “things she knew” and “things she did not know” were never going to be concrete as long as she loved, as long as other people kept loving. It was going to fluctuate, it was neither here nor there. She loved Percy Jackson. She knew this. That’s all that she needed. Sure, she did not know all the answers to everything involving love until love was figured out – until someone finally knows all there is to know about love. But that wasn’t her job. Not right now. Right now, she only had one job.

Meet me at your pool at midnight, she texted Percy. Percy Jackson’s eleven-feet deep inground pool was bearable. It was more than bearable, it was what she needed. She just hoped she remembered those above ground pool swimming lessons.

***

Annabeth and Percy’s friendship had helped her get better at sneaking out at night. Not that they were doing anything forbidden, at least most of the time. The two of them just appreciated each other’s company best when there were no distractions; when the world stood at a weird limbo where it felt like it only belonged to those who were awake at that moment. Annabeth only wanted to share those moments with Percy, and he admitted that he felt the same. So, those moments became their time. 

Annabeth climbed over the Jacksons’ wooden fence like she had done so many times before. She was aware that Percy probably – definitely – left the gate unlocked since he was expecting her, but Annabeth needed the extra adrenaline rush for what she was about to do. She walked to the edge of the pool, the eleven-feet deep pool. The water glistened under the moon, and Annabeth knew that despite the hot summer air the pool would be freezing. She took off her athletic shorts to reveal her purple swimsuit. She dove right in, headfirst.

So much for a leap of faith. Annabeth purposefully showed up only 5 minutes before midnight, wanting to surprise Percy with her skills (best case scenario), or have him be impressed with her for trying prior to coming to her rescue before the water gulped her down (this case scenario). She couldn’t remember anything about a freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke, or backstroke. All she could remember was Percy’s hands running across her arms and legs as he held her up, whispering the technicalities in her ear as he checked her form. Maybe she fucked up, maybe this was a mistake and now she was being consumed for nothing. 

In her frenzy, she managed to remember one of the things Percy had told her with his lips pressed up against her ear (why did he ever think that was the best way to instruct her on anything?). He had told her that if she ever found herself drowning, simply flip onto her back (she flipped), allow her head to float to the surface (she floated), and trust and follow the current (if the water going in and out of the pool filter counted as a current then she did that, too). Well, at least she wasn’t dying. This she knew.

As if on cue, Percy slipped out quietly from his back door.

“Annabeth?” he asked frantically before lowering himself into the pool by her side.

“I’m floating,” she replied.

Upon realizing that she was okay, he began to laugh at the predicament he had found her in. Looking back, Annabeth could see how comical that might be. He helped her up onto the poolside, trying to keep himself from exploding into a juvenile fit of laughter right in her face as he began to question her.

“How’d you end up in there?” Percy’s sea-green eyes were crinkled in amusement. “I mean, if you wanted late-night swimming lessons you could’ve just asked.”

He turned to look at her, realizing that she had been incredibly quiet. Annabeth was observing him, trying to read his face. Was Percy Jackson in love with her? She realized that she was worrying him as she saw the playful glisten disappear from his eyes, quickly being replaced by the foggy mystery that was present that night at the kitchen island when water droplets had danced across his eyelashes. There were water droplets dancing across his eyelashes now.

Annabeth broke the silence; “Percy, what are our swimming lessons to you? Were they always just swimming lessons?”

Percy furrowed his brows, but before he had the chance to just respond with another question Annabeth continued.

“Because they weren’t to me. I love you, Percy. I’m not sure when that happened but it doesn’t matter, because I love you now. I jumped into a fucking pool to show it, for God’s sake.” Annabeth laughed to herself, kicking at the water. She looked back up at Percy, but now he was staring down into the pool as if he were searching for something at the very bottom.

“I realized that I know a lot of things,” Annabeth continued, refusing to avert her gaze from Percy’s profile. Water droplets glistened on his brow under the midnight moon. “I also don’t know a lot of things. I love you and you’re just a bunch of knowns and unknowns to me all at once and I love you for it. And you don’t have to say it back, not now, not ever, because you just being here is enough. Thank you.”

Percy let out a breathless laugh and shook his head, looking up at the moon. The soft white light outlined his glistening figure. “Well, I’m going to say it back because I do. I love you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath in, relieved that he said it back because she knew that yet didn’t know it at the same time. Getting used to the unknowns was going to take some time, but if Percy was going to be there by her side during that time it was all worth it.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, but Percy was already leaning in.

He pulled her towards him with his hand on the small of her back, gentle, and leaned down to capture her lips. Annabeth cupped his chin and arched herself into him. His lips were wet, cold, soft. She could feel the water droplets between their lips, their noses, their cheeks, their arms, their legs. When they pulled away, Percy looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, his lips reddened and slightly agape. His dampened overgrown curls framed his face and stuck between his brows and his freckles danced across his nose, cheeks, and underneath his eyes. Percy lowered himself into the pool.

“I want to teach you one more lesson, tonight,” he barely made a sound when he said it but, once again, Annabeth was hyper-focused on everything that was Percy Jackson. He took Annabeth’s wrists and placed her arms over his shoulders before taking hold of her from underneath her legs and lowered her into the pool with him. He grasped Annabeth’s chin with his index finger and thumb and lowered her lips down to his again. Annabeth ran her fingers through his wet curls before cupping the back of his head, pressing herself closer to him.

When the two parted, Annabeth couldn’t help but ask: “What was I supposed to learn from that?”

“The breathing.”

***

The summer after Percy and Annabeth’s senior year, before they embarked on their respective college journeys, Annabeth made Percy promise to take her scuba diving. The two decided to go after Percy’s birthday, now that they were both 18, so they could take themselves to the beach house Percy’s mom had gotten by the coast.

Prior to the trip, Annabeth had purchased an embarrassingly large amount of new swimsuits. Most of them were blue, Percy’s favorite color, some of them were purple and some of them were grey. Percy had also taken her to buy diving gear before they went to dinner, a perfect hybrid date. They held hands the whole time, Percy rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. Their swimming lessons continued, and Annabeth was finally beginning to get better. It wasn’t like the other times where the two of them had said that she was getting better while they both knew that nothing had changed. It was real this time because Percy actually began to seriously teach this time (“No more whispering,” Annabeth had told him). Some lessons were just to practice all the breathing, but that was to be expected.

“You know you don’t have to go scuba diving if you don’t want to,” Percy said repeatedly, from when they were paying for the gear to as they sat across from each other in the restaurant. “I know you haven’t always loved the ocean…”

Annabeth beamed up at her boyfriend – her surreal boyfriend, Percy Jackson – and said, “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

Not anymore, at least. The ocean had a lot of unknowns, yes, but Annabeth was slowly starting to unlearn the idea that it was her job to know everything. It wasn’t possible. Sometimes she just wanted to go scuba diving with her boyfriend without having to think too hard about it, even if he was a competitive swimmer and Annabeth hadn’t learned until last summer. Percy’s shit-eating grin made an appearance.

“I’ll watch all the Harry Potters with you.”

“Oh, you better.”

So, the weekend after Percy’s birthday the two of them set off for the coast in Paul’s white minivan (with the Jackson-Chase blessing, of course). Percy’s loose curls were overgrown, the wind rushing in from the rolled down windows blew it all across his face making Annabeth question his ability to drive with such an obstacle. His summertime freckles had fully settled in, and the two of them sang along to the radio until their throats were raw. Percy took Annabeth’s hand in his as he drove and planted kisses to it periodically. 

He was going to UC San Diego to be a student-athlete and Annabeth was going to UC Berkeley, her dream school. The two schools were eight hours apart, but they would make it work. She knew that. She didn’t know all the details yet, but that was okay. She loved Percy Jackson and the unknown wasn’t as intimidating as it was before his wave crashed into her life at full force. She didn’t have to know everything. Not right now, while he was right here, kissing her hand as they drove to the coast.

[marikaaajoy]

my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

[vinylhazza]

ok but like having a really bad day and then when you get home e gets mad @ you for something and since your day has already been shitty, him being upset w you is like the last straw so you start to cry and then him being all soft and feeling bad bc he didn’t know you didn’t have a good day and he hates to see you cry 🥺

you’d been yelled at by your boss for something you didn’t even do. falsely accused of screwing up in a business meeting. and being the kind person what did you do? you took the blame for your friend/co-worker. you really took the slander with pride, but in your car? the tears wouldn’t stop.

you always aimed to impress and you loathed people being mad at you and being embarassed. in your opinion there was nothing worse. and maybe that’s the one thing you would fix about yourself and wish one day to leave behind - stop trying to please everyone and stick up for yourself.

the worst part is she never even thanked you, just watched you swing your purse over your shoulder with blushing cheeks when you briskly walked through the office and slammed your finger into the button in the elevator that was much too slow after what just happened.

you just wanted to go home to ethan and hold him until you forgot that disappointed look on your boss’ face while he lectured you on good work ethic. you were amazing at your job, really. you just stuck up for that bitch brianna for the simple reason that you didn’t want her to be mad. it was a lose, lose situation all around. but you would change your decision and re-do that conversation if you could - tell your boss she fucked up and not you. tell your boss she costed the company business with one of the largest corporations they’d ever worked with. but you can’t turn back time.

you kept your mouth shut until your slammed your car door shut...and then you screamed. at the top of your lungs. you bursted into a rage that had tears running down your heated cheeks. how dare that bitch look at you with a smug smirk - oh you wish you could smack that stupid fucking look off her face. you had worked your ass off to get this job, it was your dream.

you had jumped through hoops and built an image for yourself that you always wished you would have. you were well respected which is something you’ve always had to fight for. you showed integrity and grit - everything a business would want. and all you can think about is that horrid conversation about “morals” and “values” and “what you can do to fix this behavior”...he even asked you to persuade them to work with the business still.

it was a traumatic day and you just needed ethan to hold you close. you needed him to kiss it away and talk you down and take a hot bath with you and snuggle into the sheets, maybe hum your favorite songs like he does when you’re upset or anxious. you needed your man right now after this day. you just needed ethan.

but when you walked through the house and saw him standing in the kitchen, hands on the counter, head hung low, shoulders slumped, you grew anxious once again. he didn’t look happy in the slightest. you almost didn’t speak to him, near turned your sorrowful ass around and went straight back to the bedroom. but instead you set your keys on the counter, purse on the table, and walked in to stand beside him.

you can feel the tension hovering in the air, thick as molasses. when he looks up, his eyes show his emotion plain as day, angry. you’d only ever seen him angry on a few occasions, but it was never at you.

“you wanna explain to me what the fuck is going on y/n?” he deadpanned, standing up tall with bulging arms crossed over his broad chest. he’s looking down at you with this look...like he doesn’t even want to be here. like he wants to be anywhere else but here having this conversation.

you’re frozen in place. you actually can’t believe that 1. your boss was pissed at you and 2. the one person that could make it better is pissed at you. it was the world laughing in your face is what it was.

“no? i really don’t know what’s going on ethan i just got back from work-“ you try to stifle the fire with a calm voice.

“don’t give me that bullshit, i saw the picture,” his voice raising an octave higher.

“what picture ethan what the hell are you talking about?!” you’re panicking now, lost in a dark haze of confusion while he looks at you with that same disappointment in his eyes. with every step you take towards him, he takes a step back, not letting you touch him.

it genuinely feels like the world might come crashing down, your breathing shallowing out, knees getting weaker, eyes filling at the waterline. what the hell is going on here and what picture is he talking about? you are always either at work, with him, or with your best friend at all times. so whatever picture(s) he is pissed about must be a mistake.

“that’s real nice, play dumb. if you don’t want to be with me, then say something, but this? really? i really thought i meant more than that but i guess not,” he turns to walk away, shaking his head at you, disgusted by something you know nothing about.

and then the tears fall.

“baby i- i really d-don’t know what y-your talking about please d-don’t be mad at me whatever it is i didn’t m-mean-“ you hiccup, holding your palms to your face while you have your breakdown in the middle of the kitchen, legs giving out beneath you. you expect to sink to the floor, but instead feel strong arms wrap around you tight, keeping you standing and pressing you into into ethans chest.

he realized quite quickly he was dead fucking wrong about what he’d seen on the internet. he had jumped the gun too quickly without giving you a chance to explain. he never even let you get a word in. but that was irrelevant at this point because you’re gasping for breath in his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline. he had seen a picture of you with another man, a man that was cupping your face while you kissed. it had spread around twitter like wildfire with captions like:

“and to think he said she was the one last week”

“i done told y’all she was sketch”

“she’s a fucking cheater and i knew it”

“making our baby look dumb, y/n i just wanna talk”

“a whole ass 🤡 who would cheat on ethan fucking dolan?”

“guess that means we were right all along”

“you can even see in the picture she doesn’t feel bad about it. makes it even worse.”

“tHeY aRe mEaNt tO bE all of you look so dumb right now huh? clearly she’s a fake bitch that used him for the clout and the money”

“so who’s coming to fight her with me?”

“drop the adress i just wanna talk”

“this right here is why they don’t date 🤷🏻‍♀️ but y’all ain’t ready to talk about that”

it hit him like a ton of bricks, actually making him sick to his stomach, absolutely heartbroken. he loved you with his entire fucking heart, adored you and everything that came with you...but how could you do this? when was this picture taken? why would you play dumb when he knows you’re on the same internet he is, you can obviously see.

but...something wasn’t right. he knew that as soon as you broke down into his arms in a fit of hysterics, he was wrong and he could feel it. whatever and whoever that man in the picture is...he would hear it from you and you alone. the woman he trusted. but right now you needed him, so he rocked you in his arms and pushed his suspisions aside for the time being.

“shhh calm down sweetheart, it’s okay, i’m right here,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, a hand rubbing your back while the sobs die down to sniffles. he waits for you to calm down from your breakdown patiently, feeling like nothing but a dick for being so harsh when he didn’t even know the full story.

when you back up to hold his hands, looking up to see his face soft and worried, you nearly cry again. you had no idea what was going on but you did know you needed him and needed him to not be mad at you. whatever you had to do to calm his anger or whatever was making him act this way, you would.

“wanna tell me what’s wrong baby?” he questions calmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, bringing one of your hands up to his lips for a kiss on the knuckles, getting that tiny little smile out of you he loved so much.

“i just...had a horrible freaking day at work. i got screwed over and i’m worried it’s to the point on no return and i’ve lost respect at the one place i’ve worked so hard to excel at,” you mumble quietly, rubbing your nose and swiping the tears from your cheeks.

to have him being gentle with you is all you needed all day. you know you need to talk about that blowup he had when you came home, but for right now you’re taking what you can get.

“explain everything to me bubs, let’s go,” he tucks your hand in his own, waiting for you to slip your shoes off and hear the patter of your feet follow him across the house, down the hall, and into the bedroom.

“don’t you wanna talk about...whatever that was?” you’re so confused, why is he being so loving if he sounded that betrayed and angry? he was too good to you.

“we can talk about that later, now lay back against me and spill,” he rests back against the headboard, patting his stomach twice, indicating for you to rest between his legs and lay back against his chest.

you can’t argue with that when it’s been what you’ve longed for all day. so you slip your blazer off and toss it in the hamper, walk to the closet and grab the tshirt of his you always wear to bed and a pair of sweats to change into. when you’re done changing and have your hair in a messy bun on top of your head, you’re slipping onto the bed and resting back against his warm chest.

within an instant his arms wrap around you and you’re ranting feverishly about the day from hell. you explain everything from the coffee spill in the car to briannas fuck up all the way to the big boss man busting your ass in his office for nearly an hour. he’s listening patiently, nodding his head and humming, placing kisses to your shoulders every now and then, even a little “fuck her” when you really get going about briannas betrayal. he lets you get it all out of your system with open ears.

when your all done and tired out, you feel like the weight has been lifted and you can sink back into him further, your eyes closing and head falling back onto his shoulder. he rubs your arms all the way down to your hands, where he plays with your fingertips. within a few seconds he’s providing you with advice that is actually soothing you more than anything, explaining what to say to your boss and how. he’s assuring you that all hope isn’t lost and your respect is fragile but still intact, you just need to fight for yourself because you worked too hard to be made into a mockery.

he can feel you relax with every word he says near your ear, he knows it’s working. when he’s given you all that he can and you agree that it would be the best option to explain in full the misunderstanding and ensure your boss that no, it wasn’t your mistake but you are willing to turn the situation around because you have the skill to do so. a redemption so to say. it’s exactly what you needed to hear and it blows your mind that he always has the right words - well...sometimes.

“okay so now that we’re done with that...wanna talk to me about this ‘picture’ you saw?” you ponder, picking at a string hanging from the sweatpants.

he decides he needs to word things a little better this time now that he has a level head. he acted out of anger and pain and that is most certainly not what you need, especially today.

“i went on twitter this afternoon and saw a picture of you with another man.” there he said it. take it or leave it. what you say next will be what heals or breaks his heart.

he’s sort of surprised when you don’t tense up in his arms, you simply hold out your hand.

“can i see?” your gesture to his phone, remembering yours is still in your purse in the kitchen.

he nods silently, reaching for the device on the nightstand and setting it into your open palm. you put in your fingerprint and click on the twitter app, knowing what you’re about to see is obviously some big misunderstanding that (once again) got blown out of proportion and twisted into something it wasn’t. the joys of social media and stan twitter.

you immediately see this picture everyone is losing their minds over, knowing immediately how it might look. but you also know you were correct in your theory and everyone has it so wrong.

the picture is of you and your ex kissing, him holding your face, three years ago. your hair was the same color and length, you can see why there might have been some confusion. but it was still misconstrued and wrong.

“so?” ethan waits anxiously for you to say something since you’ve been staring silently at the screen for about three minutes now and haven’t said a word.

you know words hold weight, but backing up those words will mean more to him than anything. so you choose not the speak at all. you head over to little ole facebook, something you rarely use, but something that will ease his mind right here right now.

you log out of his account and log into one of yours that should have been deleted when you made your new account. you click on the “pictures” option and scroll until you land on a collection of pictures to go along with the one of you kissing your ex. you simply show ethan the collection of different poses of you two in the same place, smiling, serious faces, a cheesy “couples” photo shoot. you then show him the date the photos were uploaded, seeing his eyes widen and cheeks turn rosy with the realization that the internet, once again, flipped out for no reason.

“remember the ex that cheated on me with my roommate from college?” you speak softly, knowing he’s quite embarassed for his actions and making you feel worse on your horrible day. he nods.

“i’m guessin’ that’s cody” is all he responds with.

he just knew he was wrong. someone had found this public facebook and discovered these photos with your ex and plastered the one of you kissing all over twitter, instagram, you name it - it was there. they twisted the image and made it into something it wasn’t. they had made him overthink and become insecure, worried that you didn’t want him. of course you were loyal, you’ve never shown him any different.

“fuck i’m really an ass aren’t i?” he chuckles, throwing his head back and shaking his head in disbelief that he was dead wrong about something. what was he thinking? as if you could ever love or much less look at anyone else besides him.

“no honey, just...maybe let me explain before you immediately freak out on me yeah? i need conversation not accusations,” your tone soft and easy, knowing he feels bad.

“i’m sorry for getting a little mean with you,” he apologizes sincerely, hugging you closer to his chest and leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

“it’s okay, i forgive you. we were both just a little frazzled today, that’s all. lack of communication can do that sometimes. the internet is a scary place,” you reason. this day has been one hell of a day, kicking both of your asses mentally. it’s something as simple as a picture taken out of context or a bad day at work that can cause a pointless blow up, but at least you know how to tackle these situations together and not point the finger until you know the facts. it’s growth and that’s never a bad thing.

but now you need what you’ve needed all day. you can tell he needs it too. all the crying, the frustration, the straining of your brain to comprehend the plethora of daily bullshit was exhausting.

“wanna take a bath with me bubba?” your tone hopeful. you know he’s comfortable, but you also know all the extra tension is cured with a nice bubble bath.

it doesn’t even take him but a second to nod with a fond relieved smile, tilting your head up to give you a kiss.

“bubbles?” he questions hopefully, standing you both up from the bed and pulling his shirt over his head while you remove the tshirt and sweats you just slipped on - you’d just wear them after.

“bubbles” you conclude with a grin.