#At least 3 layers of mess here

[dono-cho]

Was joking with a friend that "Dismas/Reynauld and Baldwin/Sarmenti would have the craziest double date" and realised that maybe can share the dumb headcannons too

[wormshirt]

My hair is so dry and floppy it doesn't stick up anymore I love love love winter but my hairrr :( <- completely ignoring the absolutely insane amount of split ends I have because I don't know how to deal with them but don't trust hairdressers with my hair.

[sugar-grigri]

Nayuta wasn't killed by Barem, she's his ally 

Poor fandom, you're disorientated just when your compasses should be working properly. 

Let's learn how to eat sushi properly, step by step. Or rather, how about reading Chainsaw Man in the right order? By calmly superimposing everything we know in the right order 

So let's not panic, let's get on with it. Dry your tears, clean your snot and let's get back to the introductions. 

First layer of sushi: Denji and Pochita are made for each other 

Who is Chainsaw Man? It's a question we've been asking ourselves a lot, but how about a simple answer - we're not here to mess around. Chainsaw Man is the combined result of Pochita + Denji. Do we agree? Why have they become so close? Because they look alike, don't they? Alone, hungry, in need of a little warmth and a little love. 

Second layer of sushi: birthday, despair, amnesia...

If we take the stories in outline, Denji meets Makima and then bonds with his siblings. A sibling who eventually dies, and whose final breaking point is his sister, cut in two. On top of that, it's his birthday, isn't it? Makima invites Denji to open the door that confined his traumas, including the death of Denji’s father? 

You see, I've already missed it, I went too fast. Let's resume calmly, birthday... Denji had forgotten it was his birthday, hadn't he? His birthday is the day you're born, it's one of the few pieces of information we don't really question, but Denji forgot it. But haven't you ever really wondered...

If Denji had celebrated his birthday? And why, how, he wanted to eat a cake? His father was violent and his mother died when he was very young, so is it really safe to say that Denji celebrated his birthday? 

I had another question, why does Fujimoto always seem to accentuate the cakes so much?

I really think that cake is one of the keys, because it's a tunnel of memories that resurfaces in Denji, the cake, his birthday, then Power's death, then his father's death. It's a sushi within a sushi (we're slowly taking things back in order), I think it's about layers that need to be taken back in chronological order, yes chronological 1) the death of Denji's father 2) the death of Power 3) Denji's birthday 4) the cake. Which brings us to this scene.

Was this scene shown not just metaphorical or symbolic, but actually happened? Denji having contracted with the control demon whose power is to control memory, in order to reshape him perfectly so as not to be happy and to do whatever she asks of him later. Why couldn't Denji open that door? Why does Aki's death sound so abruptly like Denji's absence, with a mini ellipsis that doesn't show us in concrete terms how Chainsaw Man killed him? I'm going too fast again, let's start again...

Makima hasn't made Denji unhappy, she's created a being made for unhappiness.

This scene refers to an anniversary, amnesia and despair, all ingredients that enabled Pochita to take complete possession of Denji and show us the most complete version of Chainsaw Man.

Which means Barem isn't lying, is he? Same here, I'm going too fast!

Third layer of sushi: the closer Denji gets to happiness, the more he doubts...

Denji manages to become himself again and succeeds in killing Makima, by devouring her. In a very simple and concrete way, Makima was devoured and this put an end to her existence. Keep this in mind. Nayuta is reborn, becoming Denji's little sister, lots of dogs surround them, Chainsaw Man becomes extremely popular and it's in this part 2 that Denji will feel the least like himself, the least like Chainsaw Man. Strangely enough, it's when he approaches a semblance of happiness that Denji pulls away from himself.

Barem really doesn't seem to be lying, does he? But once again, I'm going too fast, let's get on with it!

Fourth layer of sushi: Barem never lies 

This is something I quickly came up with, and it's so precise, I think his character is thought of that way, and it's his narrative role. Even though he's deceitful, manipulative and devious, the bro does NOT LIE. He didn't lie about the weapons attack, he didn't lie that he looked like a Chainsaw Man fan, and he doesn't lie in the last chapter. But same, I'm going too fast. 

Fifth layer of sushi: Nayuta betrayed by Chainsaw Man 

When Denji made the choice to become Chainsaw Man, the house, his source of happiness, was falling to ashes, his dogs, his cat were dying. Denji went through with his dream and abandoned the little sister who made him happy. Barem didn't impose misfortune on Denji; it was Denji who chose misfortune, despite Nayuta's fears. The happier he was with her, the more he lost himself. He left her in Barem's hands and provoked an existential crisis in her. Which made her reconnect with her old self. 

Sixth layer of sushi: an unblocked memory. 

The aftertaste that sticks to your palate is a piece of information I mentioned earlier. Makima has been devoured. What defines the Knights of the Apocalypse from the rest of the demons? Their memory. What if Nayuta had now understood how Chainsaw Man's power worked? 

Seventh layer of sushi: chapter 170. 

This explains Nayuta's severed head, a macabre mise-en-scène to make her brother lose his mind a little more. As for Barem, he doesn't lie to us and gives us instructions on how to read Chainsaw Man. He knows how to read Chainsaw Man, since he knows the two conditions for him to regain his full power because Nayuta gave them to him. For all this is nothing more than their death. 

Layer zero of sushi: the unknown. 

Now I'm entering the quintessential madness of my analysis. Makima contracted with Denji at a very young age, and gave him several orders: survive at all costs, remain miserable, and one day kill Power and Aki. Above all, she ordered him to contract with Pochita, hence Denji's reflex to hand his open wound directly to the demon. This misfortune, this amnesia due to the contract with Makima, this survival on his own, finally allowed a weakened Chainsaw Man to find a kindred spirit, a loved one. Believing in happiness, then destroying it, kept Chainsaw Man's power in check, those vain dreams only a human could imagine. Denji was a kind of Russian doll, holding back Pochita and his over-power. That's why these two conditions exist. 

To be unhappy, or to break this Russian doll. 

To be feared by all, or to be alone. 

Or kill Denji. 

To save Pochita. 

Layer - 100000 of sushi: did you think I'd finished losing my head? I don't think so. What if everything I've been telling you all along, taking things in order, were to be done in reverse? Take them out of order. I'll ask the questions so you can understand. Why is Makima so obsessed with Chainsaw Man? Why did the Knights of the Apocalypse fight Chainsaw Man in the underworld? How did they manage to retain their memories? Why start the story with a parricide? Why was Denji finely polished by Makima to welcome Pochita when Makima never saw Denji, the reason for her own death? How could she enter into a contract with someone she has never seen? 

Because someone is controlling the control demon itself. Just as it controls the way the story is presented to us. How can we trust an antagonist who controls memory? And an amnesiac protagonist? 

Why did Pochita do what he did in the underworld? Why this sudden fury? Why do demons hear chainsaws at the moment of their death? 

Because we've come full circle. More precisely, what you're reading is not part 2 but part 1, or to be more (MORE) precise, the end of Chainsaw Man will lead to its beginning. The desire to create a better world, to kill death, will lead to a temporal loop in the world that will never cross the apocalypse, blocked just ahead. 

Makima herself is controlled by her future self, which allows her to make references to the future and know the recipes for unleashing Chainsaw Man's power without understanding why, her future self knows Chainsaw Man, she loved him. So Makima also loves Chainsaw Man without really understanding why, amnesiac like Denji.

Denji doesn't kill his father, it's his old self who is killed. 

But another Denji tries to put an end to this... 

Spiral. 

Stuck between two worlds, two temporalities, morning (Asa), night (Yoru), someone is trying to put an end to this endless world, before dawn.

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it. 

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details. 

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost. 

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch. 

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter. 

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow. 

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace. 

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better. 

It had been a long few months. 

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days. 

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth. 

Hell, he really must be tired. 

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough. 

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home. 

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks. 

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before. 

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face. 

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly? 

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful. 

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one. 

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.” 

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow. 

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech. 

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?” 

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office. 

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer. 

All of it is uneventful. 

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three. 

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.  

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.” 

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top. 

‘Save for Simon.’ 

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly. 

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet. 

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine. 

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen. 

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”  

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.” 

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.” 

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home. 

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily. 

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second. 

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.” 

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper. 

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points. 

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened. 

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?” 

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression. 

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…” 

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception. 

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two. 

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it. 

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision. 

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?” 

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?” 

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe? 

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul. 

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away. 

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up. 

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt. 

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life. 

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

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[gouraminnow]

Birds of a Feather

(Entirely platonic | SFW | Marco & OC) Marco the Phoenix is found by an orphaned harpy child that mistakes him for one of their own kind. It takes less than a day to commit to adoption- he really is taking after his father.

Warnings: Past world government/celestial dragon related incident, drugging/sedation. This is self indulgent fluff catered to me and exactly one other person she knows who she is. Hi <3

Marco had just wanted to stretch his wings. The winter island they’d all stopped at was beautiful- sloping hills, valleys and deep forests blanketed in thick snow, with the soft orange lights of the small town that had only recently sprung up. They weren’t going to be here very long- at least they didn’t plan on it. Apparently, there were some nice hot springs in more remote areas, and some of the others had asked him to see if he spotted them on his flight. Whether or not his brothers actually wished to commit to the hike when there was booze to be had in town was another matter, but he enjoyed the airtime anyway. The clear wintery skies were quiet and refreshing.

Cresting over a hill and peering down into a valley, he spots the stacked hot spring pools overlapping like fish scales.

But he also spotted something else.

When he swooped lower to get a look at the layered pools of the springs, he also noticed a small white shape- scampering through underbrush, between trees, trying to keep up with him despite being grounded. He can’t get a good look from up here- but whatever it is, it’s awfully little and makes no attempts to conceal itself. He dips again, going lower in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this thing- aiming for a clearing between some pools up ahead, he turns in a wide arc, flaring his wings out to catch the frigid air and slow his descent. He kicks up a healthy plume of snow when he lands, and takes a second to shake himself off. He stands still, arms still transformed into wings as he searches for any movement- though he doesn’t have to wait long. Something white and fluffy with bits of gray and black darts right toward him with a loud trill. He steps to the side, the tiny thing skidding right past him with an undignified squawk. 

The fluffy mess shakes itself off, and he’s met with the confused face of… some sort of little bird creature. It can’t be much taller than his mid-thigh. It wears no clothes, but it does have a leather shoulder bag. It’s covered from head to taloned toe in thick, downy feathers. It has wings instead of arms, but longer, more dextrous phalanges form three functional fingers at each wrist. Little black talons poke through a generous amount of unkempt plumage at both the feet and pseudo-hands, and the face- large, black eyes rimmed with orange, with bright blue circular markings on the cheeks, framed by a wild mane of… well, feathers, but it takes the place of hair. Two little tufts stick out on top of its head, not unlike the “ears” of a great-horned owl. They’re covered in gray and black stripes and speckles- impressive camouflage. He’s sure if the little beast had actually tried to be stealthy, he never would have noticed them. 

But it wasn’t. It was dead-set on getting his attention. It didn’t take a genius to be able to guess that it mistook him for its own kind. He furrows his brow, watching it shake itself off and look back up at him, releasing a quizzical chirp. His mouth presses into a firm line. This was… probably a harpy chick. While harpies were typically depicted with bare faces and torsos, this was a cold environment. Probably just a climate-specific adaptation- or maybe they’re completely feathered as babies and they’ll lose coverage as they age. It chirps at him again, taking a tentative step forward, and he sighs. He’s not sure what to do here. He’s unfamiliar with whatever this species is, and he doesn’t want to inadvertently upset some territorial parents. While the little one seems to think he’s one of them, it’s entirely possible the adults would know better. He looks around- scanning the treeline, the clearing, the sky- and finding no hint of any other presence, he turns back to the creature before him, who has been inching closer and closer. He holds their gaze for a moment. “Where’d you come from, little one?”

They blink up at him. One of their little ear tufts twitches.

“... Can you understand me at all?” He tries.

They tilt their head at him, a little chrrr chrrr chrrr sound bubbling out of their throat.

Inconclusive, but probably not.

With a low chuckle, he crouches down- and that’s when they strike. They launch themselves forward, tackling Marco with a shrill cry. “Woah there,” he says as they cling to his coat, little feet scrabbling frantically as they struggle to get themselves up on top of his bent legs, sitting themselves right down on his lap. They’re not shy at all about getting settled, curling up and nuzzling his chest with a sweet trill. Marco huffs. “Well, aren’t you affectionate, yoi?” he muses, shifting his wings back into arms. Gently, he wraps an arm around the creature, supporting their weight by pressing them against his chest as he sits down cross-legged, settling them back into his lap.

They don’t really react, just continuing to nuzzle against the man. They’re awfully happy to be here, aren’t they? His hands run through the downy, speckled feathers on their back and his mouth presses into a firm line. Checking them over, he finally realizes just how dirty and unkempt they are- specifically in spots they wouldn’t be able to reach on their own. There’s an uninterrupted strip of grimy, disheveled feathers interspersed with the waxy sheaths of developing pin feathers down their spine- when he pulls his hand away, there’s a thin layer of grime on his fingertips. 

“... Who’s taking care of you, kiddo?” He murmurs, only met with the happy, idle twittering of the creature in his lap. “You’re real excited to see me huh…” He’s not sure what to do. They very well could be an orphan, or even a case of a hatchling being ejected from the nest by a stronger sibling. Or they could just be very, very lost. Gently, he pushes the creature’s shoulders back, so they can look each other in the face. “Blink three times if you understand me,” he says, voice firm. They just stare, tilting their head a little bit. Marco sighs. The language barrier is a problem. He takes a second to think, letting the kid snuggle up again. How much this creature takes after regular birds was unknown but some things could be inferred. The eagerness with which they latched onto him suggested a social species- the state of their feathers suggesting flock members assisted each other in grooming. At least at this age, anyway. If this creature had parents, he needed to figure out how to locate them- but as of right now, he had no way of telling if that was the case or not.

 He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the creature begins to rummage through their little bag- producing what looks like two small, dried pieces of meat and then holding one up to his face. They chirp, smiling brightly, practically shoving it against his chin. He looks at the creature's wide eyes, then at the shriveled, burnt looking scrap they’re offering. When he doesn’t accept it immediately, their little face scrunches up, mouth settling into a pout. They pull away, maintaining eye contact, and pop one into their mouth. They make a loud, exaggerated display of chewing(with their mouth closed, thankfully) and swallowing with an audible gulp. Marco huffs, a lazy smile spreading across his face. As unappetizing as it looks, he can smell the char on it, so at least it's been thoroughly sterilized at this point. Not that contaminants were something he worried much about with his particular devil fruit, but some things are just a matter of principle. Dubious meat is dubious. But the display was awfully cute, and he’d hate to disappoint them, so when they slowly hold it out to him again, he plucks it from their talons and swallows it whole. He does briefly taste the char he suspected, but the big grin from the hatchling is worth it.

He ruffles their hair, and they eagerly lean into the gesture. But when he tries to pull away, they grab onto his hand, hopping to their feet and gently trying to tug him along with them. “Oh? Got something to show me?” He gets a series of chirps in response, and they keep tugging. Well, he’s got plenty of time. Might as well see where they want to take him- it's probably his best bet at answering some of his questions.

-

Marco casually follows behind the little bird as they lead him through the snow. He’d gotten them to let go of his hand- they were so short he had to awkwardly bend down in order for them to reach it, and walking like that was very uncomfortable. At one point during their little walk, they had turned back to him and twittered with a quizzical tilt to their head, before flaring their wings out. He raised a brow, and they just repeated the gesture. “Sorry, kiddo, not sure I get what you mean…” they huff, stomping their little feet- before pointing to him and flaring their wings out a third time. A light goes off in his head. Ah, that’s what it is, huh? With a dramatic flourish of blue flame, his arms bloom into wings. He flares them just like they had, flapping a couple times for good measure- disturbing the pristine snow around the two of them in a ten-foot radius. He seems to have gotten it right- they cheer loudly, hopping up and down and twirling in a circle. He can’t help but soften at the sight- he wasn’t a conceited man, but appealing to his ego certainly didn’t hurt. After the little display he just followed along, listening to them chirp and warble endlessly. They may not understand each other, but there was no doubt they were a chatterbox. 

It isn’t long before they come upon a sort of crevice between two tall pools, hidden away by some simple foliage. The little one slips right in, but it’s a bit of a tight squeeze for Marco. The first thing he notices is just how warm it is in the little cave. Makes sense to him- perfect place to make a den. The walls are a soft, reddish brown, working with the pleasant warmth to directly contrast the bitter chill outside. There are a few old wooden crates and cracked, scavenged pottery shoved against the walls of the cavern- the former of which store a variety of pilfered knicknacks, most notably packs of crayons and paints along with what looks like a coarsely-bristled brush tied to a long stick. There’s a nest further in, made of loose furs and old rags primarily- but just beyond that, on the far wall, countless drawings have been pinned up, rows of wobbly child-like sketches displayed right next to their bed. Stepping further, eyes gradually adjusting, he notices something else:

Tally marks.

Hundreds of them- tiny, shallow tick marks etched into every wall of the cave, reaching only a little higher than his knee. Something in him twists, as he crouches down to run his fingers against the clumsily scratched lines. These ones are organized in groups of seven, rather than five. 

He hears another trill, the rustling of papers- and he looks back to see the little one bounding toward him, holding a drawing up above their head with a grin. They shove the paper towards him with an excited cry, earning a chuckle from the man, who graciously accepts it, raising the yellowed material up for a closer look. He goes still, a tightness blooming in his chest. In a childish crayon scrawl, the colors bleeding past the wobbly outlines, are three figures. One is the child standing before him, who is currently excitedly hopping from foot to foot in silent anticipation. They draw themselves as little more than a speckled puffball with big eyes, blue cheeks and their distinct ear tufts. The second figure is bigger, standing to the left of the child. The stripes on this figure are darker, with some browns mixed in with the black and gray stripes. The markings are similar to the child’s, with the blue cheeks and orange-rimmed eyes, but with a few key differences- namely the large tail feathers, black tipped wings and feet, with a hint of that same blue on the undersides of the wings.The drawing is actually… really good, for a kid- there’s an impressive amount of detail put into recreating the distinct markings of their family.

The third figure… confirms some of his suspicions. It’s slightly smaller than the second, but still larger than the child. And the plumage of this adult is primarily a bright, brilliant blue, save for white patches on the belly and face. There’s a tightness in his chest as he holds the paper, eyes flitting to the ever-hopeful face of the child. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. If these harpies matched up with the same types of sexual dimorphism as many bird species, the brightly colored ones are probably the males. This is clearly a family portrait, but the little one’s parents are nowhere to be seen. And the tally marks on the wall don’t reach very high, nor do the drawings they’ve hung up- if they had someone older looking after them, more of that wallspace would probably be utilized. Do they think he’s just another harpy, or their dad specifically? Probably not- if they were able to draw out the markings their parents had, then they’re probably able to see the difference.

“Kid…” he starts, taking a step forward and crouching down. They seem to view this as an invitation, because just like last time, they launch forward and flail their way onto his lap. He sighs, circling an arm around their waist and standing back up. They barely weigh anything at all. He wonders if their bones are hollow.

Now carrying the child, he approaches the wall featuring the rest of the drawings. His steps reverberate around the small cavern, the harpy purring against his chest. He steps into their makeshift nest, settling down in the various pelts, blankets and cushions. It smells a little musty, truthfully… reminds him of the few times he’d entered Ace’s room.

He shakes the thought out of his head, instead focusing on the drawings the little one had made. It’s… a lot of drawings of other Harpies, some scribbly mountains and trees… one seems to depict a gathering of twelve, with a bonfire in the middle and the bird people taking turns roasting nondescript lumps on sticks. He’s sure it’s meant to be meat, as two of them do almost look like rabbit silhouettes. Another depicts the child in his lap playing in the springs with other harpy children- all drawn with sweet little smiles and those big, black dot eyes. All the drawings they’ve pinned to the cave wall are happy scenes with a loving flock that is nowhere to be seen. Many figures celebrating, playing together, hunting and cooking game… none depict a Harpy by itself, all of them groups of at least three. Going off of these, he was right in suspecting they’re part of a highly social species, raised as part of a crowded and attentive flock. Abandonment seems out of the question if these idyllic little pictures are to be believed- but regardless of the circumstances behind their isolation, this was clearly some sort of desperate coping mechanism. Hanging pictures of the family they missed dearly, right by where they sleep? Examining another drawing of adult harpies fending off some large, fearsome thing- mostly black scribbles, big sharp teeth and eyes- while the chicks watch from behind them- the idea of abandonment at the talons of these bird-folk feels like nonsense. He doesn’t want to say anything for sure when all he has to go off are these pictures, but some deep, small but sharp sting of instinct within him makes the suggestion of neglect feel utterly wrong. Something worse had happened, the phoenix was all but certain. His mouth presses into a thin line, and he can’t help but hold the poor kid a little tighter. 

They’re completely oblivious to the inner turmoil welling up inside him, interpreting the slight squeeze as deliberate affection. Their eyelids droop and their feathers puff up as they settle against his warmth. It isn’t long at all before they’re snoring softly in his lap… Marco sighs, idly petting the little bird monster as they doze. “You make it real hard not to get attached, huh, yoi…” He mumbles, gently scratching their chin. Hmm. He wants to check something. Thinking back to their little family portrait, he leans them back and gently unfurls one of their arm-wings. Most of the feathers are still soft and downy, but he catches hints of those iridescent blue patches the mother in the drawing had right under her armpits. Checking their wings, gently detangling as he goes, he catches no further glimpses of those vibrant pinfeathers, and concludes that the child is most likely female- though he is unfamiliar with the child’s age and how quickly their species develops, so he wouldn’t know for sure until all the baby feathers were gone. Judging by the little blue sprigs, it wouldn’t be long-

Marco blinks, stopping his train of thought. When had he started thinking as if this kid was going to live with him? He hadn’t even known them for a day. Suspicious circumstances and heartstring-pulling be damned, it’s far too early to be acting this way. The ideal way this all turns out is that their real family is located, and they’re left with their kind. In the best-case scenario, he’d never even see their adult plumage, having sailed on with his family after reuniting the child with their own. If he did take them with him, he would have to figure out their specific needs on the fly, such as diet, exercise, hygiene, sleeping habits… though at least the size of the crew was unlikely to bother them once they’d integrated, if the large social groups in their artwork were anything to go by. 

Marco sighs. It’s simple- he just needs to know more. And now is the perfect time, seeing as the little one is sleeping like… well, a baby. He sits up, hands raising to their shoulders to gently pry them off from where their claws dig in to the fabric of his coat- and god is the little puffball tiny, one splayed hand covering the width of their speckled back- but as soon as he tries to pull them away, he hears a sleepy little whine and their three-fingered hands bunch up the wool. He frowns- taking in the way their eyes move behind their lids, and the drooping of their ear-tufts. Ugh. Damnit, they’re far too cute for their own good.

With an exaggeratedly resigned sigh, he pulls them back in, the little one cooing contentedly as they snuggle back into the warmth of his chest. He takes a second to adjust, moving the sleeping chick up to a more comfortable position before swinging his legs over the nest’s edge and standing up. He'll just... carry them while he has a look around, since they're so attached. So, with the little chick tucked against his chest with one arm, he begins his search. Starting with the wooden crates off to the side, he’s careful- sinking into a crouch and resting the harpy in the gap between his chest and the tops of his thighs. He picks through- this one is primarily art supplies, as he observed before. Packs of wax crayons dumped into a smaller box, paintbrushes- most in poor condition, he observes, the chipped handle of one resting against his palm as his thumb rubs over the frazzled, uneven bristles spiking outward. There’s a ripped canvas with a broken frame slotted into the box- when he goes to lift it, some chalk falls from where it had likely been resting on the wooden struts. The soft clatter makes the hatchling twitch, but nothing else. There are a few paint pots at the bottom as well, but they’re mostly empty or dried out. Curiously, he finds a couple small rectangular boxes with hinged lids as well, no bigger than his palms. They’re made of a thin, light colored wood and they remind him of Izo’s makeup- a thought that proves its merit when he flips the lid up to reveal the brightly colored chalky substance they have packed away inside. This one has three colors- yellow, orange, and red, and there’s a small mirror tucked into the underside of the lid. Snapping it closed, he opens the other- a sky blue, a darker cobalt pigment, and a deep purple. Hmm. He puts the palettes back where he found them, and turns his attention to the sleeping kid again. Leaning back, he rubs a thumb against the bright blue cheek spot, then pulls it away. Nothing. Those markings were natural, then. Well, it was left at the bottom of the box. If it was something they used with any regularity it would’ve been easier to reach. But the idea of birdfolk adding a little extra pigment to their plumage is one that tickles him.

He doesn’t find much else of note. He examines the brush on a stick he had seen earlier, finds some tools such as knives and scissors. One box has netting, rope, and fishing line- a broken rod laying at the bottom in two pieces. There’s a hole in the floor closer to the entrance of the cave, covered with an old pot lid- when he opens it, he finds a rabbit, two wrapped fish, and a handful of berries in a cheesecloth resting in a bed of snow.

But then, looking back to the inside of the cave, his eyes catch something he’d missed, somehow. Peeking out from under the nest, are more scraps of paper- the crinkled, triangular corners overlapping each other. More drawings… moving back toward the nest, he crouches slowly, careful with the child as usual. Reaching out, he tugs the crinkled papers out from under the furs they’ve been hidden under-

His heart leaps into his throat. His hand, tightening its grip, further crumpling the thin material.

The first picture is of a ship bearing the familiar emblem of the world government, scribbled navy blue and white trim topped by the golden figurehead all world noble ships have. He doesn’t need to look at the rest to know this poor child really is alone. The rest of the hidden drawings, pulled out from where they’ve been shoved and unfolded by his deft hand, are devastating- not just because of the contents. All of them less precise, more frantically drawn, indents or even tears where the kid had applied too much pressure while coloring. Tiny pinprick stains of water damage, if he looks close enough. One drawing is just a large fire. In another, adults and children alike trapped under nets. One shows suited men shooting some of the creatures as the ridiculous bubble-headed celestial dragon oversees. And there was yet another, depicting the familiar bright blue-plumed male flying away with the baby in his talons, little dots as tears falling from their eyes.

No wonder they were so happy to see him. No wonder they could overlook the glaring differences between him and their own kind.

The little one shifts, and Marco realizes how hard he’s breathing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a moment to calm himself, for their sake- but it’s not easy. Well. He’d already wanted to take the little one with him. He didn’t see a world where Oyaji would say no, especially not once Marco told him everything. And if anyone else had an issue (though he doubted anyone would, other than the typical rational concerns when it comes to having a small child on a pirate ship), they would just have to deal with it. Marco was a commander, he did what he wanted.

But of course, he still has questions. In the brief time they’d spent in town, nobody had made any mention of harpies. He knows the small village is a very recent development- four years old, if he remembered right- is it possible that its presence is younger than the tragedy that befell the birdfolk? When visiting a new place with his family, local urban legends were quickly picked up on. Proud, hardworking folk like these often want others to be impressed with the places they call home- that’s why they’d put so much emphasis on the springs. It seemed odd that nobody had mentioned that this island once contained at least one whole flock of mythical creatures.

But looking at all the tally marks on the walls, the small, clustered groups of seven, seven, seven- he hadn’t counted them, but over four years of living alone looked very plausible if he assumed the kid counted accurately. Did… the kid know there was a human settlement? He would assume they did, but then again… the distance is a lot for someone so small. He only spotted the remote cluster of pools from the air, before he swooped down for a closer look. And all of their things look old, held together through improvised fixes- nothing new that would suggest they had stolen from town. Though if they did know of its presence, it was possible they avoided it on purpose. They only wanted Marco’s attention because he was a giant blue bird. They might not differentiate between world nobles and humans in general. With that in mind, he should be cautious with crew introductions.

Well, regardless of the kid’s relations (or lack thereof) with the other locals, they were coming with him. As well as he can using one hand, he gingerly stacks the previously hidden artwork, tapping it against the ground to line them up. He wishes he had some sort of folder… tucking them into his coat will have to do for now, so he slowly leans them back- prying their little fingers out of the grip they hold so he can unbutton the front enough to slide the papers in. Something to show the others- some sympathy for his cause wouldn’t hurt.

And with that, he lets himself partially transform- Wings, feet, tailfeathers. with a flourish of healing fire- that he washes over the child, just in case. She blinks, yawning- and he watches the flickering of his own flames in their dark, glassy eyes as they widen. They smile up at him with a chirp, and he returns it. “Have a nice nap, little one?” He croons. “How would you like to go on a little flight with me, yoi?” They twitter up at him, feathers puffing up. He sets them down on the floor- which they whine about, earning a laugh from him. He shifts from foot to foot before holding one up and making a grabbing motion with his talons. They perk right up- and sprint outside. Marco blinks, moving after them and squeezing himself through the jagged opening to their little hideout. That’s something he wasn’t looking forward to when he came back to pack up their belongings.

Out in the snow, the hatchling calls out to him- they’ve laid down on their belly, sinking into the powdery substance. He’s amused and impressed they got the message so fast. He thought he’d have to take a leaf out of their book and draw a picture of himself carrying them away. He approaches slowly, holding out one foot again- and when she doesn’t move, he slowly, gingerly wraps his talons around their midsection, the first of his three front toes resting just under the armpit. He tests his grip first, lifting them up while balancing on the other foot, which earns a giggle from them. It feels secure enough, and they don't seem uncomfortable. So using his free foot to propel himself upward, he flaps once, twice, and they’re off- Marco smiling widely at the excited trill they let out. While a little awkward to carry, they’re tiny and weigh nothing to him. They soar over the trees, and Marco climbs higher- even through the sound of the air rushing past his ears, he doesn’t miss the little gasp that escapes them once he’s gotten enough air to reveal the pinks and oranges of a horizon at sunset.

It doesn’t take long. His jaw clenches when he can feel their little body growing more and more tense, the closer he gets to the Moby Dick. When he begins his descent towards the deck, Oyaji and a few others in view- they emit a loud, piercing whine, starting to wriggle. He pulls up, wings flaring out to slow himself, and sticks the landing on one foot, balancing himself before gently setting the kid down with the other. They immediately latch onto Marco’s legs, feathers bristling in agitation. Whitebeard raises a brow, leaning forward in his seat. He’s still shirtless, despite the weather. “Marco,” he rumbles out in greeting. “What’s this you’ve brought to us?” He asks, gesturing to the cowering child clinging to Marco’s legs.

Some of the others have started to gather around, wanting to see what this is about. Marco sighs. First, he reaches into his coat for the bundle of artwork. “Tate, would you mind looking over these with Oyaji?” He asks, extending his arm to the nurse, who approaches slowly. He hands them off to the nurse, who is thankfully dressed for the weather unlike his father, and crouches down to try and dislodge the kid. They whine at him when he grips them by the shoulders, peeling them off of him to the amusement of his brothers. He flashes a quick glare to the men and their chuckling quiets down. “Come on kid, you’re fine, yoi” he chides, opting to lift them into his arms. They bury their face in his chest as he sits them on one arm, turning the other into a wing which he carefully folds around their trembling body. Hopefully, hiding them from view gives them a little security.

He looks back up to Tate, and to Oyaji- he’s leaning over her shoulder as the blonde woman examines each childish drawing, her face growing more troubled with each one. Oyaji keeps the same stony expression the entire time, save for the subtle narrowing of his father’s eyes. “This one spotted me flying, Oyaji. Chased after me from the ground.” He says, watching his old man’s eyes raise to meet his own. “... They think I’m one of them. They’ve been alone for a real long time, yoi. What you’ve got right there, that’s what happened to the rest.”

“These… these are awful,” Tate breathes, still fixated on the foreboding artwork. Marco nods, mouth set in a firm line. 

“Hmph. So you’re saying we’re keeping them, I take it?” the old man says, plucking one of the drawings from Tate’s hands and leaning back to examine it closer. 

Marco nods. “My responsibility, of course. The kiddo’s already… attached.” He sighs, feeling them shift against his chest. “They don’t speak any… human languages. I have no way of telling them that I am not what they think I am, yoi.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the deck, Whitebeard’s stern gaze sinking to the wing concealing the tiny creature. “And you are certain there are no others of their kind left here?” He asks, the unspoken meaning clear. He is not unsympathetic- it’s the same thought Marco had. It would be better to reunite them with their species, if possible.

Marco nods once again. “They’ve been living in a small cave, and they’ve scratched hundreds of tally marks into the walls. I didn’t count, but it’s been years, yoi. I think…” he sighs, pausing for a second. “None of the townsfolk said anything about bird people. I think this event predates the existence of the village, and this child has managed to remain hidden all this time, yoi.”

His father regards him from a moment, a warmth in his eyes few others would have recognized. “Let me get a look at them. Only for a moment.” Marco nods, retracting his wing. The little one sits with their face buried in his chest, trembling. He nudges them. They whine. He sighs, leaning them back, patting their head with his free hand and gesturing to Whitebeard. They hesitantly turn their head, and he feels them tense when they meet eyes with the Yonko. The towering man gives them a small smile, but it doesn’t help much. They recoil into Marco, pitchy squeak leaving their throat. The Phoenix sighs, letting them latch onto him and covering them from view once more. “Well, that’s it, then.” Whitebeard grunts. “What d’you need?”

“Somebody find Thatch- I need him to whip something up for ‘em. Some meat, add a sedative- I’m going back to their little hideaway to pack their things while they sleep.”

-

Thatch is located, and is reportedly happy to assist. Marco had moved the little beast to his own room, since being around so many humans all of a sudden had utterly terrified the poor thing.He swaddles them in blankets, and intends to leave them in bed- but his face softens when a hand shoots out to cling to him once more. He sighs at the little one glaring at him from the bundle of fabric. “I know, I know,” he coos. “I wish you understood me,” he laments, lifting their swaddled form into his arms. “But this is a good thing, yoi. We’re going to take care of you.” He makes his way over to his desk, opting to at least read over some reports while he waits for Thatch. Settling the child in his lap, he picks up some papers and leans back. 

A bit of guilt creeps up the back of his throat- the poor thing is still trembling. They aren’t being deliberately affectionate like they were before- no chirping, no squeaking, no nuzzling. Just laying where he put them. He sighs, using his free hand to rub their back. They don’t do anything, other than shift slightly. 

It doesn’t take long before he hears three knocks at his door- making the kid flinch. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, patting them softly before speaking up louder. “Come in.” Thatch enters, carrying a  covered platter on one hand.

“Hey, Marco!” the chef beams, strutting inside and setting the food down on the little corner table. The child clings to Marco’s chest tighter, at the sound of his voice. “Heard the big news- fatherhood is gonna look great on you, papa bird~” he teases in a sing-song voice. Marco rolls his eyes, adjusting the kid and standing up to face his crewmate. Thatch’s face softens when his eyes fall onto the bundle in Marco’s arms. “Aw. Still upset, huh?” He says, considerably more subdued now.

“Yeah,” he affirms, patting the bundled creature on the top of the head. “Can’t blame the poor kid- they don’t understand a word we say, so it’s not like I can do much to reassure them, yoi.”

Thatch sighs. “Well, I got the message,” he says, one hand on his hip as he removes the lid with a flourish. The child doesn’t move, but Marco can hear them sniffing. Thatch prepared various types of meat, cut into thin strips, arranged almost like a charcuterie board. There’s a peeled orange and some mixed berries as well. “I’ve got some cured meats, fruits, and I grilled a bit of pork- that’s what's got the sedative in it. Thought about doing chicken, too, but y’know…” He gestures vaguely, and Marco snorts with a shake of his head.

“Thanks, Thatch. And don’t leave just yet, alright?” He says, sliding into a chair. Thatch pulls up one of his own right across from them.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘em, anyway. Everyone up top is gossiping.” He smiles, leaning back and propping a foot up on the opposing knee.

Marco returns the smile. “It’s your lucky day, then. You’ll be the first crewmate I introduce, yoi.” If he wants the kid to learn that the others won’t hurt them, the chef is a good place to start. He pries their little talons out of his shirt, shushing the undignified whine the action draws from them. He pulls the blanket down so it’s bunched around their waist, and spins them in his lap to face the tray of food. Thatch’s eyes widen, and a soft gasp falls from his lips. 

The kid regards him warily, leaning back against Marco’s chest. Their ear tufts are drooping back, and their talons find their way to the arm around their waist. “Hey there, little one. Oh, aren’t you cute?” Thatch greets, offering a small wave and a reassuring smile. “I heard all those brutes upstairs gave you a scare, huh? Poor thing,” he coos, before pushing the platter closer. They tense, but lean forward, sniffing the air. “Go ahead, kiddo, all yours.”

The hatchling is hesitant. Their little hands rise from Marco’s forearm, and both men watch their fists clench and unclench. When they turn back to look at Marco, their little face is scrunched up in worry- even if he can’t see their eyebrows through their thick, messy hair, he can tell they’re drawn tight. He gives them a relaxed smile, and slowly reaches out to pluck a piece of salami off of the plate. He makes sure they’re looking when he eats it, chewing slowly. He nods to Thatch. “You eat something too, yoi,” he says. The other man nods, opting for an orange slice. The kid’s little ear tufts perk up, just a little, and they lean forward. Some of the apprehension is beginning to melt away, but they still aren’t going for it. They look nervously back and forth between both men, head swiveling on their little neck. So Marco reaches out again- another piece of meat in his hand, holding it to their mouth as they had done to him. Slowly, they lean forward, biting the edge, and Marco lets go. It doesn’t even take a full second for the kid to realize how good it tastes, snapping it up instantly. They chew, swallow, lick their lips, go to reach for another-

And they freeze, just shy of touching the food. Marco could groan, but he doesn’t. Thatch gives the kid a nod, and when they look back to Marco, he does the same. Their dark glassy eyes go wide for a second. They pick up a blackberry, looking at both men for any reaction before eating it. This repeats a couple of times before they finally give in and start eating like the damn place is on fire, much to Thatch’s delight. The cured meats and fruits are snapped up in a flash, the thin prosciutto torn to shreds as they indulge. The pork is a bit chewier, taking them a little longer, but they eat everything before the drug even starts to set in. They’re licking their talons clean when Thatch pulls the platter back, and stands up. “Well, that was impressive,” he muses, smiling down at the child. They don’t cower against Marco anymore, instead leaning forward to chirp quizzically at the tall man. “Yep, I’m talkin’ to you, honey,” he laughs. “You’ll give Ace a run for his money, I know it.”

“Hope so. All of this is fluff, they’re a scrawny little thing underneath, yoi” Marco chuckles, rubbing the top of their head, relaxing when they lean up into his touch again. He was right. Food is a good way to help most creatures feel secure. 

“What do you need hope for? You know I won’t disappoint! They certainly seemed to like it, didn’t they? Oh, just look at them,” Thatch coos, watching as their eyes squint in satisfaction. 

The two speak a little longer, Thatch telling Marco that word had spread quickly. Oyaji had already given them a nickname, referring to them as “Pipsqueak” and sternly instructing his sons to leave them be for now. Marco told Thatch more about his encounter in turn- the way they’d exuberantly tackled him, the cave, the way the happy drawings had been pinned up by their bed- that particular detail had him dramatically slapping a hand over his heart. “Sent off to find some hot springs, and you come back with an orphan. You’re really taking after the old man, Marco.” He says with a sly smile. It doesn’t take too long for the kid to start nodding off- after around five minutes, there’s a big yawn, and they’re snuggling up to Marco again. He wraps an arm around them, gently preening their wings with his fingers. The speckled little creature all but melts against his chest.

“I think that’s your cue to get going, yoi,” he says.

Thatch sighs, dramatically slapping his hand over his heart. “So it is… how cruel.”

“Oh don’t pout about it, yoi. I actually let you see ‘em didn’t I? And you’ll be bringing them plenty more meals, I’m sure.”

“Of course I will! I’m aiming for the title of Favorite Uncle, after all!”

“You’ll have some stiff competition, yoi.”

“I’m a chef, my dear brother,” Thatch beams, spreading his arms. “Kids love food. Everybody loves food. I like my odds.”

Marco wouldn’t say it, but he did, too. Instead he just smiles, lifting the child into his arms. They rub a blue cheek against his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, yeah. Now go, yoi. Shoo. I’m sure I’ll be up shortly.” Thatch chuckles, gazing tenderly at the child before shaking his head. As his weathered hand grips the brass door handle, he shoots his brother a knowing smirk.

“You sure you’ll be back in time for them to wake up? I’m a busy man, but I’d be happy to keep an eye on-”

“I said shoo, yoi! Get on with it!”

Thatch laughs, the door swinging closed behind him with a creak. Marco sighs, shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. Turning his attention back to the kid, he holds them closer and stands up from his seat. He listens to their soft breathing, trying not to let the patch of drool seeping through his shirt bother him. He sets them down on the bed, carefully unwrapping the blanket to tuck them in properly. He lays them against the pillow, huffing at their drowsy face, their mouth still hanging open. He pulls the blanket up to their chin, patting them on the head. They nuzzle into his pillow, sigh, and quickly slip into slumber.

He stays for a moment, warm hand resting on top of their head as they doze. “Big day for you hmm?” He muses. It didn’t take long at all for him to commit to this, did it? He wishes they understood him. That he didn’t have to do things like this. But at the very least, his intentions were altruistic, and the child suspected nothing. And when they woke up, they’d have all their drawings hung up within view of their new nest.

[moonydustx]

Hello! I just read law proposing to reader and it's so sweet like-- I wanna cty-

Anyway... what happens on their honeymoon? Would they dock at an island for like a week or so? Just so the two newly weds have some time alone? Or they'd keep sailing after the ceremony? Like- I imagine both happening but I wanna know what you think.

Hi dear anon, sorry for the delay in responding, I was sick this week and everything was delayed.

For me, there are two versions: the ones they would continue to navigate immediately after the ceremony, but I also think mainly that their friends would never let the honeymoon go unnoticed. I also like to think that even after the wedding was over, Law would take short days to spend just with his S/O, locked in the room enjoying each other's presence.

requests open | one piece masterlist

The proposal - the honeymoon (part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2

warnings: brief allusion to sex, but nothing explicit or detailed.

The archipelago filled the horizon more and more as Polar Tang approached. From afar you could see a huge park and what looked like the beach packed with people. You weren't yet used to the idea that came from the minds of Shachi and Penguin - which you soon discovered involved Nami, Robin, Ikkaku. The strong breeze ruffled the layers of the sundress you were wearing, it was also strange not to be wearing a crew jumpsuit.

"The bags are packed." Law's voice took your attention away from the destination you were arriving at.

"I mean, the suitcase. The only one." you grumbled. "What did they do?"

"I'm curious too." Law turned you back to contemplate the sea on the deck and taking advantage of the fact that you were alone, he placed quick kisses on your shoulder.

"Look on the bright side." You grabbed his chin, stroking the little beard that was there. "At least we'll have a few days just for the two of us."

"Ah, finally." He let his head fall under your shoulder, making you laugh openly.

The wedding had been incredible, including the banquet. You just didn't expect the amount of sake to be too much, even if you had ten Zoros as friends. As the night went on, you, Law and practically everyone else had more alcohol than they should have in their blood. The two of you left the party amidst whistles and jokes about the wedding night, but when you reached the room you barely had the strength to take off your dress, just as Law remained with his suit and tie turned in a funny way.

After that, you dealt with all the mess that a wedding can bring and finished restocking the Polar Tang before heading on your way. Combined with all the tiredness and accumulated responsibilities, you and Law still hadn't had the wedding night you'd dreamed of - not even 10 minutes of honeymoon.

"We're here!" you both heard Bepo scream and soon went to disembark from Polar Tang.

While you carried your small bag, Law dragged a not so big suitcase that carried some of the two of your clothes.

"Here are the keys and the address, there's a little map there." Ikkaku placed them both in your hands. "We left you a schedule and also some clothes."

"This is amazing guys."

"So, I'll see you in a week." Law asked and everyone immediately agreed. "Bepo is in charge. Any problems, and I mean any problems, just get in touch."

After a quick goodbye, the two of you headed towards the aforementioned address. Even though he wasn't much for public displays of affection, especially close to strangers, Law took your hand as you dodged fruit baskets and running children. The town fair looked lovely and you hoped you would have some time to explore it at your leisure.

"It seems to be here." the two of you stopped in front of a small wooden door. Law took the lead and opened it, taking the key from your hand.

It was a small but cozy house. As far as he could see, there was a small kitchen full of plants, a sofa and a den den mushi that transmitted video. A shelf with books and more flowers. In the distance you could also see two closed doors, which must have been the room where you were going to stay.

"I hope you like it. The fridge has some things ready and we left some things in the wardrobe too." his attention turned to Law, who had found a small note on the table. "What do you say we see what they got up to?"

"Sounds perfect to me." you took the lead and opened the fridge. Your bag was already thrown somewhere on the table, just as you could see that Law had already gotten rid of his bag.

Inside the fridge you found some alcoholic drinks, some fruit and a huge jar of chocolates that were your favorites. Further down you could see some bottles of wine too.

"Well, that's a great start." you put one in your mouth and approached Law, wanting to put a piece on his lips.

"I prefer this one." He took your lips in a quick kiss. You could complain, but it was undeniable that the sweet chocolate seemed much tastier when it was wrapped around his lips. "Delicious."

"Come on, we have a room to explore." you took his hand heading towards the closed doors.

"Indeed, we do" the malice in his words didn't go unnoticed and as much as you could feel your cheeks blushing, you also wanted to finally enjoy some time alone.

Behind the doors was a huge room. A dark, shaggy rug on the floor and a huge bed that could easily fit the two of you and leave room left. The window on the opposite side of the bed offered a beautiful view of the island, and you could even see the sea with your eyes.

"Wow, it's so beautiful." you laughed as you saw Law throw himself onto the bed and his body sink. "You look comfortable my love."

"Not only does it look good, it's actually good. Did you find anything out there?" he asked as soon as he saw you standing in front of the rustic and large closet that was at the other end of the room.

"I'm about to find out."

You opened the two wardrobe doors, finding some dresses that looked comfortable, hanging along with some other pieces. On the other side, some flowery t-shirts made of the same light fabric were piled up for Law. You also saw flip-flops, sunscreen, and some cosmetics.

"Just some clothes, some things… Wait." you bent down, grabbing a small black box from underneath what would be your side of the wardrobe.

Your surprise didn't go unnoticed by Law, who quietly got up and stood behind you, who didn't notice the movement. Inside the black box were several tiny panties - which most appreciate just threads and jewelry sewn together - some things that looked like lubricants, handcuffs and various other sex toys.

"Now that's interesting." Law's low voice whispered in your ear, making you shiver. One of his hands attached itself to your waist, while the other went to the box.

"I'm going to find out which one of them did this." you replied, feeling your body burn with shyness. However, the way you felt Law pull your body against his indicated what plans he had in mind.

"Leave that for later." his lips went down to your neck, while one of his hands reached into the small box. "I bet you'd look even hotter in this one." he held up a small white piece and handed it to you. His hand then went back to the box and grabbed the pair of handcuffs.

"What do you want to do?" your hands found his hat and slid down to where the dark strands of his hair appeared.

"Now that we're married, you're stuck with me." Again, his lips descended dangerously on the back of your neck. "I think it's time to make this more literal."

That morning ended exactly the same way as the evening of the same day and many other moments throughout the week. You still hadn't realized how much being confined inside a submarine could take away certain freedoms from both of you. The two of you woke up tangled up, soon after you were on the beach; You would go back to your room and decide to continue the activity with a view of the sea, then choose one of the small shops for dinner. Kitchen, living room, sofa, bathroom. You would make a point of thanking whoever had chosen the house.

The moon lit up the room and no matter how much sleep was present, you couldn't sleep. Maybe it was because of the small sadness that occupied your heart when you knew that it was the last night you would spend there and that the next day you would leave, maybe it was the noise of music coming from outside, but it was probably an uncomfortable noise coming from the kitchen.

As you watched Law, you could see that he was far away in the dream world. His tattooed back was lit by the moon and the only thing stopping him from being completely naked was a sheet over him. You stood up and put on panties - normal this time - and a black shirt that had been on your husband's body for a few hours ago.

You looked in every corner of the kitchen and found nothing, nothing that could be making such a mess at that hour. When you reached the sofa you then realized. A tiny black ball of fur, huddled next to one of the rugs, caught your attention.

"Oh no." You picked up what was supposed to be a small black cat kitten, on one of its paws there were some thorns. "Let me help you."

You first tried hard to remove the thorns, but were unsuccessful as the cat complained every time you touched the injured area. Soon after, you tried to find the litter he belonged to, but there was no sign of a cat around the house. Only one solution ran through his mind. You left the cat on the sofa and went in search of Law, you just didn't expect to find him already leaving the room.

"Everything is fine?" he asked, still drowsy, trying to understand your disappearance from the bed.

"We need to talk."

"Now?" he looked indignant, still yawning.

"I want to have a baby." As soon as the words left his mouth, Law's color seemed to leave him along with the sleep he seemed to be feeling. His mouth opened and closed a few times, searching for words. "No, not that. A baby, a kitten. He's alone, he's hurt and I don't know what to do."

"Okay… I understand" he accepted almost automatically, still stuck in his first conception of what a baby would be. "I just wouldn't go around informing anyone like that."

"I'm just a little anxious, help me, love, please." You pouted making the task almost irresistible for him. "I don't know what else to do."

"Let me see him." Law followed you to the couch and saw the little ball of fur bundled up. "Hey man, you don't look good."

"I tried to take it away, I tried to give it food, but he won't let me touch his paw."

"Wait for me in the room, maybe you don't like seeing it." Law asked and even though you were reluctant, you nodded and walked away from the two.

It took more minutes than you expected and you had probably already walked around the entire room more than ten times when Law opened the door, bringing the small cat and a small pot in your hands.

"Someone was hungry." He sat down and placed the kitten on the floor, next to the pot that looked like some crushed fruit.

"Thank you my love." you hug him, placing countless kisses on Law's head. "We need to buy food for him."

"Is he really going with us?" Law turned up, finding an expression that made it clear that the decision had already been made. "What will it be called?"

"I'll let you choose. But think carefully first." Law untangled your arms from him, just so he could place you sitting on his legs.

"Thank you my dear."

"For letting you choose the name?"

"Not only that, but for choosing me." He still held you close, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. "For choosing to love me and of course, for growing our family."

-- Extra 01

"So, did you like the gifts?" Ikkaku took your arm and pulled you away from the others. The boys seemed more entertained by the little cat than by your return.

"Was you?!"

"It was and I hope you brought everything back because the owner of the house is a nice old lady, she doesn't need to know about these things."

"Well, I brought the toys and a single panty." you replied, the victorious smile was clear on your lips.

"One? Just one? Did you miss all the others?"

"I didn't lose them, they're just no longer usable." you responded as naturally as possible, laughing as you saw the meaning of the words reach your friend. "Actually two, the first one I think Law wanted to keep as a souvenir."

"Oh God, no, I won't think about that." She left apparently traumatized and leaving you laughing about the situation.

--Extra 02

You had already done your tasks in the command room, updated your medicine stock and it was almost lunch time. As you approached your room, you knew that Law wouldn't be that busy at this time and it would be a great time to have lunch together. You just didn't expect to find him holding the cat on the table, the small black cat resting on both paws, as if the feline were a toy fighting with two other action figures.

"And the warrior Sora took down the…" Law - and the cat - noticed your present. "I was just.. Sora and I were just having fun." He tried to find a justification, making you laugh even more.

[blkkizzat]

Tutorial: Manga Banners

Basic Manga Text Change/Coloring/GIF creation in PS

Hey, so as promised making a very basic tutorial for making banner gifs in photoshop for fics/drabbles/layouts, etc.

I'm going to keep things super simple here for beginners.

END RESULTS↴ 

(NOTE: This gif I made will be used for an unreleased story of mine so please don't use this exact gif/images but you are free to follow the tutorial to create your own).

All I ask is if you find this helpful to REBLOG! :) No need to credit me.

For this tutorial you will need ↴ 

Photoshop

At least 2 manga panel images (non-transparent*)

Optional: Manga fonts. I mostly use CC Wild words (speech bubbles) & Manga Temple (narrator boxes)

Basic knowledge of photoshop layout/where tools are.

*this tutorial is essentially the same if working with transparency but if you do work with transparency you will need to have knowledge of clipping masks which i do not cover here.

Tutorial ↴ 

(optional) Prepwork: so i didn't think to include this do this but you are going to need to crop and resize your image. make sure the width is either 540 or 1080px. This is the recommended width for pictures in tumblr. Height can be what you want it to be. This is done image > image size (make sure the link-chain is pressed for aspect ratio)

Step 1

This is what you want your setup to look similar to. Delete locked background layer.

Steps 2 & 3

Make a new layer. It might be helpful for beginners to re-name all their layers so instead of "Layer 2" you might name this ⇢ "White fill layer or Text cover up". (doubletap layer name to change it).

Use rectangular marquee to select text you want to change. If you are just replacing a word or two you dont need to white out everything. But you could choose to cover up all if you wish. I just wanted to remove "senpai".

Steps 4 & 5

Use Paint Bucket Tool to fill in selection area with white (make sure the new layer you made is selected when you do this).

Select Text Tool. There is no need to make a new layer as once you are done typing it will become a text layer. I used CC Wild Words bold font for this for emphasis. If you do multiple lines of text use a new text layer for each line.

Step 6 - Optional Step - Highly recommended if you did multiple lines of text.

Rasterize Type by right clicking the layer. This is an optional step. I tend to do it out of habit and rasterizing lets you use the move tool to give you exact px distances between other rasterized elements but nothing we are doing requires this tbh and if you do decide to do it you can't go back and edit text.

If you did multiple text layers you cause space them out evenly using the move tool (zoom into 200%-400% if necessary to get exact pixel distances). Tip: Manga text is centered in the bubble and leaves a good distance away from the edge.

When you are done ctrl/cmd to select all text layers then right click and merge the layers. This is so incase you have to move the text layer for whatever reason they are all on one layer now, evenly spaced and you won't accidentally mess that up.

Step 7

Create an exposure layer (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). This is important as it can lighten/darken image to make the colors we will add later pop by playing with the sliders for each setting.

Step 8

Apply exposure settings. On the right-hand side there will be 3 slider bars. The screenshot shows my settings but your settings will vary depending on the image. The one that gives the biggest benefit for manga is Gamma Correction which affects the midtones to make them lighter/darker and adds better contrast to the image so it doesn't look as muddy, often in black and white images it is easy for midtones to look muddy. Offset affects mid to dark tones of an image. Exposure affects midtones to highlights to make brighter or darker, overall use this the least. TIP: If you want to make an image brighter or darker you usually want this to apply equally to the overall image so then you would create a brightness/contrast layer instead. most manga images skew muddy and need a midtone and dark adjustment rather than highlights. the better the manga scan images the less adjustments you will need.

Step 9 - Optional

Apply a gradient map (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). This is optional. a Gradient map adds gradient but preserves the shading in the image so essentially adds a gradient to the shading. I do this in black and white. But if you are happy with how it came out in the exposure phase you don't need to.

Step 10 & 11 -

Apply a gradient (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). So when you add a gradient there are a ton of preset color combos you can use or you can create your own. I think this one is a preset but can't remember. I like a diagonal gradient from light to dark depending on where the light source on the image is but it is completely up to you. I tend to set the gradient angles near these 4 settings: -145, -45, 45, 145 depending on what corner I want the lighter part in.

One thing to note is brighter colors work better with a darker background. Lighter backgrounds can get washed out. One you add this as you can see it will be solid color.

*note* once this layer is applied any edits such as moving text, etc. around you want to do to the lower layers beneath it click the "eye" button to hide the gradient (same for the map) or there's a good chance it will move the gradient layers around and not the layer you want.

Change layer blending mode. By default it's set to "normal". You can play around with these. Depending on the effect you want and whether the image has darker or lighter colors will decide the blending mode. My typical blending modes are screen, overlay, hard light, vivid light or pin light. You can duplicate this gradient layer and play around with multiple settings and opacities to create something you like.

Step 12 - Optional

Add a Brightness/Contrast layer (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). Brightness/Contrast on this step will look wildly different than if you added it right after the exposure step. It's not necessary but if you want more overall contrast or brightness then you can add it.

You can see my settings below on the sliders on the right-hand side.

Step 13

Create new layer for highlights. (also good check point to see how your layers are organized).

Step 14

Select the brush tool and ensure brush settings are a soft round brush with a hardness of 0% for the highlight effect. (if you click the brush image you can see my settings better)

Step 15

Select the dropper tool and pick a color from the gradient image. I usually pick the darkest colors available as it will have the best dodge effect for highlights. Since this is pink/redish I only have one highlight color but if you were doing a green/blue gradient you would pick the darkest from both. (ignore the purple here its not being used)

Step 16

Create highlights with brush tool. Do a few tests placements randomly around the image for positioning and then swap the blend mode to either color dodge or linear dodge. I usually do color dodge. You will get awesome highlights like below. You can play with the sizing of the brushes and opacity to decrease the effect.

Step 17 & 18

Export as PNG. Do this even if you want to make a gif as I always recommend a clean canvas for gif making. If you want to be done here and don't want a gif thats fine too. File > Export > Quick Export as PNG (do not save as jpeg/gif you will lose image quality).

Repeat for second image. You don't need to open a new file unless it helps you to not get confused. You can just make a new layer and paste your new image into that layer (if you just right click copy the file in the window/finder folder you can directly paste it into a layer in PS) and use the transform tool to resize. However you can totally just open the image in PS. The benefit of same canvas is you save yourself some time as you can just duplicate gradient layers/adjustment layers and move them. But this is kinda more advanced so if you aren't comfortable with photoshop just make a new image.

Step 18-19

Create new file/open one of the PNG in PS (more advanced can just create new layer, select image, then copy > copy merged and paste on new file for each. Otherwise open one file, create a new layer then copy the other file. The bottom later will be the first image in the gif.

Create Frame Animation on the timeline window. (if the timeline window does not appear then window > timeline) *note* if this is your first time working with the window it may be set to "create video timeline", if that's the case create it then from the frame menu (in step 23 theres an example of where this is) select "convert to frame animation".

If done correctly your setup should look like the below with two images. One for each layer and one for each frame.

MAKE SURE PROPAGATE FRAME ONE BOX IS CHECKED IN THE LAYERS WINDOW.

lmao, not to be dramatic but this ensures most effects you would add to frame 1 (which corresponds to layer 1) is applied to all frames. I'm not too sure its super vital for this super basic gif I'm showing you but its better to get in the habit of always having it checked. otherwise it will fuck you over later down the line in my next tutorial where I show how to add frames to gifs.

Step 20

Select both layers, then select both frames (ctrl/cmd) and finally select tween from the timeline window. It is the multi-faded dot option on the bar below.

Step 21

Add Frames to Tween. Tween is the fading effect adding more frames is the longer the fading effect is. I added 20 for this step, you can play around and add more or less.

Once you do that you can see 20 new frames being added onto the timeline. This will not automatically add new layers, this is fine. Frames and layers don't need to be a 1-to-1. (Another reason why propagate frame 1 needs to be checked as you can still adjust those layerless frames by adjusting frame 1's layer)

Step 22

Adding delays. Automatically the delay on every frame is at zero. But especially if you have text you want people to be able to read that so you need to add in a delay. Your delays can be in increments of 1/10th of a second. I add a 1 second delay to the first frame only.

Step 23

Select and Copy the first frame and then select the last frame and Paste. A paste window will appear in this case we want to paste after selection. I circled where the menu for frames are. (sorry used a different gif as an example so ignore everything but the circled menu)

Step 24

Adding additional delays. I add a 1 second delay to the last two frames.

Step 25

Add more Tween I added 5 frames this time as we want the transition to be much quicker to reset the image. You can see frame 23 in the previous step are now frame 28.

You can add more images in than 2 and follow these steps to add tweening.

DONE! Now to save.

Step 26

Export your gif. File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy) and the screen below should pop up. Here are the settings I use for gifs. You can play around with it but I really wouldn't lol. (again ignore image size, this is from a different gif) it will also tell you how big in file weight your gif is. This isn't something you have to worry about for something simple but the bigger the image size and the more transitions/images you use the more frames you will have. Reducing image size (make sure chain link is on like in the below) will take off more sizing then removing frames will and I would recommend that. But tumblr allows 10MB MAX per gif so just something to keep in mind.

Let me know how this was! If you have questions just drop me an ask. ❤

[w4w4lycsss]

I saw you were taking requests for Hades :3

Soo...him x transmasc reader maybe? Like the reader is dysphoric n stuff sigh

And just him x a male reader in general I'm not normal abt the man ragh

SHUT UP, BOY | HADES

summary: You had resentment towards Hades because you feel that he does not validate you, which is quite the opposite and he shows it to you. pairing: Hades x male!transmasc!reader warning: gender dysphoria, body dysphoria and transphobia a/n: I'm a member of the trans umbrella! It was very nice to write it

You had gotten into the bad habit of being a very defensive boy, everything they said to you you took rudely to defend yourself, and it was a terrible way to socialize, so you didn't have many friends. No matter how villainous, macabre and twisted the VKs were, they all respected your identity and when they made fun of you they had the minimum education to respect your identity, at least.

You were angry with them because they had tripped you and you had thrown your things at the entrance to your room, a gesture that irritated your already strong character, you were just sitting on the floor picking up and releasing indirect insults to those who did not see you and collided with you .

When you are missing half of your books, someone bumps their knee into your shoulder, making you raise your head angrily to complain without receiving a response. The person is forgotten when you see Hades, yes, the god of the underworld himself and a VK walk in your direction staring at you.

The only thing you think about is quickly picking up your books before it's too late and he throws them at you again.

 A whirlpool attacks your brain, sweeping away your coherent thoughts when he finally reaches you, bending down and picking up the missing half. You didn't know whether to thank him or insult him.

“I need help with homework. I’m going to pay you back.”

SON OF A BITCH. INTERESTED. UNGRATEFUL TORCH-

You just roll your eyes and receive your books, carrying some in your arms and putting others in your bag. “First, what do you intend to pay me with?” You pause when he opens his mouth. “I'm not interested in money.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you want then?”

“Your friends stop bothering me.”

“I can’t promise they will deliver.”

“Then let them reduce it.”

He shrugged and you walked into your room, being followed by him. They were not going to comply.

After doing what many thought impossible, that is, Hades getting a good grade, he didn't stop looking for you with stupid excuses, the most common being that he was bored and couldn't find his friends or he was tired of listening to Uliana complain.

Little by little they formed what could be called 'hate friendship', which was the two of you being friends who insult each other and make unpleasant comments about each other but who at the same time help and defend each other.

Defender.

Not everyone at school was open-minded like you expected, and after a while you got used to it and just let them be as long as they didn't blurt out some personally derogatory comment for the purpose of being annoying. How had it happened to you now?

You were locked in your room, you had locked the door while you looked at yourself with contempt in the full-length mirror; You never hated yourself, you just let yourself develop and when you came of age you would do what you had to do.

You watched as your hair trailed to your elbows, embracing you in an unpleasant mess like greasy cobwebs. Your sculpted waist as if you were a porcelain doll and the curve of your legs towards your crotch made you nauseous.  Your bust wasn't exaggerated, but not all the layers of clothing in the world could hide it.

Miss. Lady. Princess.

“Y/N!” He knocked on your door hard.

“I'm not here.”

“If you don't open the door I'll burn it”

“No, you won't.” You sighed, tearing your heavy gaze away from the distorted figure in the mirror and turning the knob to let Hades in. “What happend?”

He took your arms in a paranoid manner hidden from external annoyance. “What happend? That you locked yourself in your room after an idiot has opened his mouth, that has happened.”

“Where is he now?” You furrowed your eyebrows in doubt.

"Oh, he'll probably be in the infirmary because of the beating that Hook and Maleficent will give him."

"There's no necessary."

“It is completely necessary. Are you OK? Why did you lock the door?”

You looked down. Your face did not express anything; neither tiredness, nor annoyance, nor discomfort nor sadness, it was like a blank canvas that seemed to be painted with the desperation of your mind to be someone.

“I'm fine, seriously, it was nothing.”

Hades, still unconvinced drowning in paranoia and holding your arms so tightly that his nails were beginning to print on your arms, finally hugged you, rubbing his hands down your back to give you comfort.

“You're not like the others, right?”

"What are you talking about?"

“I thought you hated me.”

"I don't understand you."

“Hades, do you see me as a boy?”

The words scratch your throat with the pain of letting them out in a broken whisper, which makes your face take on the expression of being desperate, but also of just wanting him to take care of it. He brings his leather-gloved hand up and cups your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. 

The look in his eyes is nothing but pure longing and cheesy crap you swore you hated until he started punching idiots who refused to respect you. Maybe it wasn't the most romantic thing, but the intention to dare was something new.

"You're my boy, if you wasn't like that I wouldn't have let you get as close as you are now.”

“You came to me.”

He shrugged. “It's something you hit me.”

His face gets dangerously close to yours until his lips meet yours, making your stomach jump and you leave him alone, speaking for all the times you dreamed of a happy ending full of pink hearts for Let them shut up and let you live in the very close moment.

[nekohime19]

Macaque study # S3 SPECIALS

Macaque in season 3 was a whole ride, really. The specials are quite literally the following of season 3 and it ties up quite nicely everything that has been already established beforehand!

So I would like to creates this time frame of Macaque in season 3 before we dive in the specials :

EP 1 : Macaque being established as a villain working for LBD yet we see he's nervous and frantic which is unusual for him.

EP 2 : Macaque as a threat that follows the team (and thus was not defeated the previous episode, it establish him as a recurrent villain this season)

EP 4 : Macaque goals does not align fully with LBD, he's about survival and he's playing a two-faced game by trying to balance the scale between LBD and MK.

EP 8 : Macaque first betrayal of LBD after learning of the samadhi fire but she gets a hold of him and chains him.

EP 9 : Macaque being desperate and his second betrayal of LBD, he goes after the samadhi fire for himself.

EP 10 : Macaque achieving his goals of freedom and fleeing away from this mess + MK proving Macaque wrong about heroes.

-> All in all, I do think season 3 was really tied up nicely concerning Macaque developpement. Like I said in my first study, LMK is a short series with not a lot of time, so every appearance is pivotal. We cannot have multiple episodes of Macaque hating LBD to really dig into our heads that he's not on her side, one or two scenes are enough for that, they have to be enough. You can feel like Macaque development is fast-paced but in reality it's just the kind of show LMK is, every appearance is meant to add layers. Here everything follow a logical order : you cannot have Macaque's first betrayal in EP 8 without establishing that his goals do not align with LBD beforehand (EP 4).

Now let's delve into the specials!

By theory, Macaque shouldn't return. He has everything he wanted this season : freedom. Yet he does return. He saves MK from the possessed Wukong by portalling him away.

This lil action tells us two things :

First, Macaque never left. He presumably stayed close to MK to watch the events unfold and when MK was put in danger he decided to intervene. This shows that Macaque does care about MK enough to stay behind even if he has the choice no to, but at the same time Macaque doesn't feel confident enough to reveal himself until MK is put in danger. And even then he doesn't show himself, perhaps because a possessed Wukong is quite intimidating and LBD is still near.

Second, Macaque portals MK where Mei is training with Red Son. This is not a coincidence. Clearly he meant for MK to be in a safe environment with known faces. And it also shows that it's not just MK that Macaque has been keeping an eye on after his flee but the whole team.

This scene serves us as an audience to indicate that Macaque did not leave but at the same time he's not fully on the team yet, even if he helps he does not reveal himself.

We see Macaque again some time after when the team are all together. It's interesting to see that Macaque chose to appear from Red Son shadow.

At the moment Red Son was the most isolated person of the team, while everyone was at the front of the frame, he was in the background.

Macaque chose to appear in Red Son shadow specifically because :

First, he came as an ally and didn't want to appear threatening. It would have spooked the team way more if he suddenly appeared in front of them. He was also perhaps more nervous than he appeared and wanted to put some distance between him and the team.

Second, it held significance. Red Son is here as a “reformed villain”, or at least he's here to help. Having Macaque emerge out of Red Son's shadow is a way to portray the same intentions : Macaque wanting to help.

Macaque : I hope I'm not interrupting. But if you're making a plan to defeat the Lady Bone Demon, I know a guy who might be able to help.

He makes his intentions clear by calling out the team plan, and offers them what I'll call a “peace offering” to be more easily accepted. We know that the not-mayor will not be of any help to create the plan (as we can see in the next episode) but Macaque, here, was more looking for a “proof of his goodwill” than a truly helpful hostage. By giving the team the henchman of the Lady Bone Demon he's proving how he's not on her side anymore.

The not-mayor reveals himself to be quite useless. And we got this shot of Macaque :

We can see how he's completely cut from everyone. He's cut from the circle, alone to the side of the frame, yet he's also tied up. I think it physically represents Macaque right now. The team is still suspicious of him, they tie him up, but at the same time he's not being interrogated nor being circled by the team. His place is ambiguous, in a weird in-between.

I think it's telling how it's Macaque who provides the inside information that the team tried so hard to pull out of the not-mayor. Macaque, out of anyone here (except the not-mayor), is the one who knows LBD best. He spent a lot of time with her. Moreover we already established that Macaque is a good observer (we can see how throughout season 3 he successfully gets a lot of the team characters simply by observing them), so we can easily assume that as much as he observed the team, Macaque also observed LBD.

And then, perhaps because he showed he was willing to go against LBD, MK includes Macaque in his plan to defeat her. And this is Macaque answer :

Macaque : Look, I brought you the Lady Bone Demon's lapdog but I'm not up for being a hero, kid…

I think it's pretty telling that Macaque is not fully on board with being a “good guy”. He spends so much of his life painting himself as the darkness to oppose Wukong's light, so much time building his act as a villain, even if he wants to oppose LBD, he's still reluctant to join the team and call himself a hero.

Even when MK proved how wrong Macaque's idea of a hero was, it's difficult to change the way you see things overnight. Macaque spent much of his rebirth hating heroes because of what happened with Wukong. He blamed everything on Wukong's status as a hero. So calling himself a hero stings for him.

And MK knows this, perhaps that's why we get this exchange :

MK : Stop you keep playing at being this bad guy, acting as if you're just in it for you. But I know, deep, deep down, you're not that guy. Help us. Make it right.

Macaque : I'm not a hero, bud.

MK : Then be a warrior.

MK just got it. He knows Macaque has been putting on an act since the beginning. He's acting as if he's only caring about himself yet he comes back to save MK even after he has the choice to flee far away from this. MK calls out everything we established about Macaque those previous seasons, how everything Macaque showed was just part of a performance to either enact his vengeance or appear more intimidating in stressful situations.

MK's words “Make it right” are pivotal in Macaque redemption processus. It can be interpreted as MK asking for help but it's also a way to offer Macaque a chance at proving his goodness, at setting the records straight. MK offers Macaque a chance to right his wrongs.

And while MK is doing his lil speech, Macaque is not trying to put on another mask either :

Macaque is genuinely surprised that someone calls out his act, or even picks up on it.

Yet still Macaque looks away and refuses, not because he doesn't want to right his wrongs but because calling himself a hero would be too much for him. It would question everything he is, everything he built those last years, and Macaque is not ready to abandon everything about himself and become a “hero.”

That's why MK's next words are Macaque saving grace. Because that gives Macaque familiarity. He doesn't have to cast away everything he is, or even the entire identity he built, instead he can be something familiar while still trying to right his wrong.

He can be a warrior.

It's important that Macaque doesn't jump on the occasion of being a good guy. It wouldn't have felt genuine otherwise. The fact he has the occasion to right his wrong but still doesn't call himself a hero provides a balanced in-between.

Macaque : What can I say? I'm dramatic.

Yes. Yes you are. Look at how dramatically you put your cape on!

Both Macaque and Red Son preparing themselves in the same shot is not coincidental. It's an emphasis on both their journeys to get here. If you don't see Red Son as a villain, you can't see Macaque as one either, there are differences between the two but at this very moment the show portrays them in the same way : the redeemed villains.

Macaque and MK confrontation with LBD is very important because Macaque is not just helping MK in a roundabout way, he's directly confronting the one who tormented him all season (LBD), the one he preferred to flee rather than fight before the specials.

LBD : MK the Monkie Kid and the Six-eared Macaque, here to embrace oblivion?

Macaque : The opposite actually. I'm kinda on this whole living streak thing right now, so we were hoping maybe you could call off this whole end of the world thing? Would really help us out.

We can see Macaque is still trying to diffuse the situation but this time it's interesting to notice that instead of doing it like he used to (with sarcastic quips and threatening smiles) he adopts an attitude closer to what Wukong would have done. Wukong is always the one to joke around and make light of a situation. Macaque actions and words are closer to what Wukong could have said if he wasn't possessed. Perhaps Macaque is trying another method to handle stressful situation without his villain persona now that he's in the good guy team, or in his way Macaque unconsciously imitates Wukong because Wukong is the only example of a hero he has.

This similarity between Wukong and Macaque in this particular scene is further emphasized by this action :

I don't have the exact episode in which Wukong twirl MK above his head the same way Macaque does in this scene but I know it happens in season 1.

I think the fight between Macaque and Wukong is quite interesting because the sequences is the exact same as their fight in s1 ep9, yet Wukong uses something he never used before : his laser eyes. It does makes me think that LBD is pushing Wukong to be way more violent than what he is and forces him to use power he doesn't naturally wants to (like his laser eyes that are particularly destructive). That could explain why Macaque is so easily defeated and so soon too, because Wukong is pushed beyond his limits and forced to abandon his fighting ethics.

I do love that to defeats LBD everyone in the LMK cast have to steps up and join forces together. But what I really love is the two scenes we got that emphasize Wukong and Macaque in particular. How they acknowledge the other despite everything that happened between them :

First we get their shared look and nod when everyone is coming together to merge their forces and power up MK's mech. This simple look speak volumes of how easily they can understand each other, they're on the same wagelenght even after years of being ennemies, it speak for itself of their bond.

The second is when they're side by side to push the staff on LBD, it's a nice way to hint at their rekindling relationship. They are in this together despite being ennemis since the start of the show.

Even if not everything is good between the two of them, far from it, this wordless acknowledgement that we see in those two scenes, of them fighting side by side, really ties up Macaque redemption quite nicely.

Then, after LBD defeats, we get the after-fight party that nicely ties up the series.

And obviously we get a fight between Wukong and Macaque.

Macaque : You're done with that right?

MK : actually I -

Wukong : Actually he was saving that for me. Cause you know, I'M his mentor *agressive eating*.

Macaque : Still the same Wukong. Doing what he wants with no regard for other.

Wukong : Oh yeah, yeah I'll keep that in mind next time you scheam with the ennemy and almost get us all D.E.D.

MK : You know you two are the same right?

Wukong/Macaque : I'M NOTHING LIKE HIM!

Macaque wanting MK's bowl of noodle because perhaps he doens't feel comfortable enough to ask Pigsy for one and MK is the only one in the team he feels comfortable talking too right now is one of my personal headcanon.

So first, I think that might be the first healthy fight between Macaque and Wukong. Instead of any of their other fights where they hid their true feelings between mask of nonchalance, here they are openly expressing their anger and frustration to the other. We can see Wukong is still salty about Macaque taking his place as MK's mentor, mayhaps he felt like his place was endangered. Macaque answers with a comment on Wukong's selfishness. Wukong, probably hurt by this, reply with a comment on Macaque working with LBD and endangering them all. Unlike before, all their bickering are direct and more in tune with the present. They're not trying to purposefully hurt the other by digging at past insecurities (Macaque fear of not being enough, Wukong unhealthy way of coping), instead they comment on recent events (Wukong stealing MK's noodles, Macaque working for LBD). Which I think is an improvement, no matter how tiny it is. It shows that they're not trying to hurt the other as much as before, they're not going at the other throat, even if they're still frustrated and angry.

Also, MK is so right when he says they're the same, it's even more funnier because they have the exact same expressions on their faces.

Wukong : Hey! Where do you think you're going!?

Macaque : Don’t know, somewhere I could do a bit of scheming probably. See you around MK.

Wukong : Eugh, I hate that guy so much. Acting like he's so cool!

I do like to think Wukong is questioning Macaque about where he's going because he doesn't want to see him go, 😌.

Macaque callback to Wukong comment minutes earlier is a funny lil quip to annoy him before disappearing. Also his soft tone when addressing MK does really shows he cares about the kid in his own way.

Wukong last line is so funny because no one said Macaque was cool, you're betraying your own thoughts here Monkey King.

All in all, I do think Macaque redemption was handled really well. Each episodes showed us a new layer of his character. His evolution, based on his actions alone, was logical. No matter how much you think Macaque hurts the team, you cannot erase the fact he saved MK twice this season, and keep doing so in later seasons. But I think we also have to remind ourselves that Macaque character arc is not finished yet!

Also, the voice over talking about “redemption” and having one of Macaque first genuine smile in the entire series is so heartwarming for me. The fact MK also draw Macaque smiling 🥺🥺

That was my study of Macaque in season 3 specials! Hope you liked it. If you have any more theories or if you simply disagree you can talk about it, I'll be glad to hear about it.

I'll post my study of Macaque in season 4 in another post!!

S1 / Previous / Next

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

3A.M.

Summary: Summer in Colorado is humid, sticky and uncomfortably hot. There's barely any comfortable time of day to give your boyfriend what he's been craving so much.

Pairing: Jack Thurlow × fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+!), Absolutely No Plot Just Porn, Heavy Mommy Kink, Hand Job, Fingering, Jack Being A Moaning and Whimpering Mess, Finger Sucking, Cum Eating, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Begging

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: I don't know either, okay? I've been having Jack Thurlow brain rot for weeks now and this here somehow just came out of my fingertips in an hour.

"P-please..." The word fell from his shaky lips in a high-pitched plea.

Jack's forehead was pressed to your temple and his hot breath hitting your slightly sweaty cheek with every raggedy breath of his.

Above the two of you, the whirring of a ceiling fan, trying to move the thick air around at least a bit.

"Please, what?" You asked in a saccharine-sweet whisper, the palm of your hand carefully wrapped around the nearly purple tip of his twitching cock.

You moved your hand in circling motions around it, not just yet allowing him the sensation of up and down strokes.

"Please, mommy, I...", It rolled over Jack's tongue in a raspy moan, "Wanna be a good boy for mommy, please.."

You noticed one of his hands, with its slender fingers reaching out and gliding over the curve of your thigh towards your lacey slip.

"C-can I touch you? Pretty please, mommy."

"Oh, you're so eager to be a good boy, huh?" For a brief moment you increased the pace of you toying with his rock-hard cock and Jack's breathing hitched.

"You may..." By the second you had uttered the words, Jack's fingers went straight for your thoroughly soaked slip, pushing the thin lace to the side to dip his fingertips between your slik-coated folds.

Although he acted quickly, his touches were gentle and considerate because he knew you liked it that way, sensual and attentive. You felt his nimble fingertips playing around your aching clit, setting your body on fire within seconds.

"Does..does that feel good?" He asked, his voice rendered into a needy mewl right as you started stroking him up and down, your lubed-up hand filling the humid air with squelching sounds, skin slapping against skin.

"You're such a good boy for me, Jack." It fell from your mouth in a choked back moan.

"Am I, mommy?" You could hear how much he was blushing, this kind of praise always did something to him, turned his mind all empty.

"Such a good little fucktoy for mommy, yeah.." You reciprocated, subconsciously jutting your hips against his fingers, riding them towards a rapidly building climax.

"You're going to make mommy come soon, Jack. Fuck..." You bit your bottom lip to hold back a flood of breathless moans.

Motivated by that, he let his fingers draw tight circles around your sensitive clit, caressing it with their touch and sending jolts of rising pleasure throughout your body.

It really didn't took much more than that for you to trip over the edge, arousal and desire almost becoming too much for a split second before the tight coil of lust in your lower body snapped and delicious waves of orgasmic pleasure crashed through you. Your body convulsed next to his in nearly 3 weeks of heat-induced abstinence for the both of you.

"Good god....fuck...Jack..", You cussed out in heavy pants, the sensation only slowly calming down, "Such a good fucking boy..."

You inhaled sharply. Your release had been overdue for so long now that you could try and imagine just how hard Jack's cock must've been throbbing at times.

" 'M gonna reward my best boy for that, yeah." While one hand of yours stroke him from tip to shaft, the other one wandered between your thighs, wetting your fingers with the slick of your release, coating them with a warm, sticky layer before raising them back up towards Jack's lips.

"Open up..." You demanded in a soft voice and so he did.

He parted his plush, pink lips ever so slightly, granting entrance for your fingers. Carefully, as to not gag him, you shoved your fingertips into his mouth over his tongue, spreading your cum as his very personal treat from you.

As soon as the taste washed around in his mouth, Jack started sucking on your fingers gently, drinking it all up.

"Look at you...", You chuckled looking at him through half-lidded eyes, not stopping to jerk him off, "Such a perfect boy for mommy, no?"

He simply nodded, a low moan vibrating around your fingers as you felt him getting harder in your touch.

"Do you want me to let you cum, too, huh?"

"Please...please..." Jack whimpered in return.

"Beg me. I wanna hear you beg for it, baby."

A desperate mewl fell from his lips and it was obvious to you just how much he needed to hold himself back to not just cum right there and then already.

"Please, mommy, I beg you...please, I wanna cum too. Need it so much, mommy!"

For a few seconds you didn't answer, letting him dangle there in the unknowing, administering a few more languid strokes before you leaned in a little closer and said: "Then cum for me, baby. It's okay."

With that Jack practically erupted in your grasp, his cock twitching inside of your palm and white-hot spurts of his seed painting your belly and thighs. A surprisingly guttural growl ripped itself out of the depths of his lungs as he came, his body twitching and his fingers clawing on to you for support.

"Such a perfect boy..." You panted in his hairline, smiling to yourself as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth.

[krembruleed]

alright, the other day i loosely implied that i would make a behind the scenes/tutorial type of thing. momma didn't raise no liar, so here goes nothing i guess!

step 1) rough sketch

honestly i skip this entirely if have a really concrete idea of what i want to do. sometimes compositions are just beamed into my brain from On High and a sketch is unnecessary.

step 2) 3d ref

this is where i refine the composition, lighting, camera angles, props, etc. i use DAZ studio for model posing and blender for almost everything else (props, horns, lighting, rendering).

here's a 10 minute video on how to pose models in DAZ if you're interested in doing something like this! it's not very hard! basic posing requires almost no technical know-how.

i've heard magicposer and virt-a-mate are also good for model posing, but i don't have any experience with either program.

after i'm done posing, i transfer the models to blender so i can work on props, environment, and lighting because doing it in DAZ is ass. you can see that i went overboard on the ref for the paladin i worked on last year by modelling armor.

step 3) lineart

at this stage i'm synthesizing my 3d models, reference images, and style choices into lines.

the 3d likeness of my models is poor because I don't have time for that shit, so this is where my humongous folder full of bg3 screenshots comes into play.

for example: looking at my screenshots, astarion's forehead tilts back towards the back of his skull, much more so than my reference model. his chin and jaw are sharper and longer, and the transition between his brow ridge and nose is almost a straight line. if i combine the information from my 3d model and astarion's face, i get something like this:

3d models aren't fleshy (ie, tummy rolls, wrinkles, muscle deformations, butt squish) unless one puts in A LOT of effort like absolute madman chris jones.

you guys know bernini, right? he has a couple great examples of this. see how hades' hands press in on persephone's leg?

this is what we want to add in the lineart because it's too much effort for 3d. laziness is king.

i guess i draw clothes at this stage too, but for some reason there aren't many in this image. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

step 4) base color

i have a little color picked palette that i use for everybody so i get their skintones right before i start messing with colored lighting. i'll use overlay and hard/soft light layers clipped to the base layer during the shading step later.

step 5) shading

if you thought we were done with the 3d part, guess again! i posterize my 3d reference so i can see the shapes of the shadows and highlights better. if i'm not feeling it, i can go back to 3d and change the lighting really easily.

could I make a cel shader for this? yes. am I going to? No. custom shaders are for people with intelligence and I am fresh out. posterization it is.

from there, i do a pretty standard cel shading deal that i usually blur and set to low opacity. (for this image i stuck to no blur because i had been looking at a lot of morebird's art and was really feeling the hard edges)

photoshop is what i use for final rendering because it has bangin tools. the brush customization alone make ps worth it, but i also particularly abuse puppet warp, noise generation, the camera raw filter, and layer styles.

step 6) background

i put the least effort possible into a background and then i blur it into oblivion so you can't fathom the depths of my ineptitude.

and then i have a finished image! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[sarnai4]

The Real Deal

The Penguins of Madagascar is a great show for many reasons, but I feel like one is very underrated. Despite being a comedy, it has good villains. I have seen series where the comedy becomes a bigger part, so villains are written as playful obstacles or too silly to really be taken seriously. That does not happen here.

Hans is a villain who not only acts as an antagonist for the show, but he also connects to Skipper's past, adding new layers to the already mysterious nature of the Denmark incident. Because of whatever happened, Hans is that type of villain who won't kill the heroes. He even mentions how he didn't want to fry Skipper in a real volcano. He just wants to make him miserable. These villains are so dangerous because death isn't their goal. In a sense, torture is.

Dr. Blowhole is on the other end of this. He makes it very clear that he wants Skipper dead. Between making him even "most importantly" forget how to swim (as he falls into the ocean, mind you), this dolphin has a penguin-seeking middle. He has plans to make the world suffer for his pain and will destroy anyone in his path.

Rat King is a surprisingly fun villain to me. He easily could have just been the dumb jock kind of enemy who's basically an older version of a high school bully. Despite that, he's pretty clever too, shown when he hustled the penguins out of their habitat. He's also way more ruthless than I gave him credit for being. He had a vat of acid somehow and was going to use it to kill them.

Kuchikukan was not a villain I ever expected to see in the series. Evil spirits weren't on my radar, but this is probably the only time I won't complain about their presence. He was so much fun! He mastered the combination of "light-hearted jokester who messes with the mere mortals" and "all-powerful being who can and will destroy the Earth." That's not an easy balance to strike. It's such a great time to watch him go from an almost laughable threat due to his host body, then show how much he can still do. By the time the episode is over, I know why he was able to destroy a world inside of a cheese loaf.

Blue Hen was a nice way to give the penguins a psychological threat. She knew how to come after them where it mattered most. Go after Kowalski's obsession with science and go after Skipper's position as leader. It's a shame that she only was in season 3 because it would have been fun to see what else she did with more time.

Last, but certainly not least, X. Just X because he's been an animal control officer, zookeeper, exterminator, fishmonger, storekeeper, and unemployed. Of them all, he is my favorite. I love this character so much. He's also got something going for him that I feel is unique to him. You can see the downward spiral of X throughout each episode he's in. Gradually, he becomes more and more unhinged. It makes sense that he's one of the only human villains because he's so competent that he doesn't even need to know what the penguins are saying in order to stop them from doing everything they want. He just was the pinnacle of competency to the point of even freaking Skipper out because he kept failing against him in the zookeeper episode. Through it all, we see X go from this super officer of animal control, then more and more, he loses it because of the penguins. He even gets a cameo in an episode where he's just throwing chopsticks of a poster with the penguins on it and is later shown to have bowling pins painted as penguins. I almost feel bad for him since he really did want to just do his job, but there comes a point when you have to relinquish your obsessions and he's an example of why.

The other villains were also fun to me, but these were my favorites. PoM didn't have to try hard with its villains, but they still did and I really appreciate that.

[collectivecloseness]

okay but imagine one of the yandere fruity four (let’s say Nancy, because she’s been a bit of an example used before poor girl) just snaps and kidnaps you, without thinking about it or consulting the rest of the group. And obviously now all of them have to deal with the repercussions of her actions

Anon I am kissing you on the mouth late for valentines thank you

Things like this are so interesting though! Because if you saw Nancy kidnapping you, and she takes you to the others, home, fuck yes they are so pissed at Nancy, but now they can’t let you go. Because you saw Nancy, one of them, and they can’t put her, or any of their family (you, too, are part of their family) in danger.

So okay, you are joining the family this way. They prepared for this scenario anyway.

Of course they thought they’d have more time, because just... up and taking you would have been a last shot, if after they courted you you still said no- you weren’t sure, or you couldn’t because of some horrible reason restricting your choice :(. They would have helped you through that last alternative anyway, because they love you <3

Not all of them even thought down the taking you path... Well okay actually, all of them did, some of them would have just been a lot quieter about it than others. And some definitely would have only had it as their last, last, very last option if they were that desperate and there was nothing else they could do for you... But you’re here now. They love you. They’ll make it work, as best as they can for you. You deserve that, after everything you’ve been put through now, at the very least.

You deserve everything.

So now not only were you betrayed by one friend, but when you see your other friends, you realise you’ve been betrayed by all of them. All four of your best friends, all of them were lying to you, all of them had this crazy thing about you behind your back together, all of them were going to hurt you by keeping you here, and protect each other instead...

Like I said, the other three are pissed when Nancy tells them what she’s done. Eddie tried to run straight upstairs for you, to the spare room Nancy put you in, that they were all planning to be your room eventually anyways. But she grabs him so hard he nearly breaks his leg, gripping onto the bannister and being yanked down those first couple of steps.

Even Robin’s trying to push past, standing up to Nancy for one of the first proper times, at least physically, as she uses her height to stand practically chest to chest with Nancy, and demand she let her and Eddie go to you right now, and to not mess anything up anymore. Robin’s face serious, and dark, and pissed, as she looms in front of Nancy, a way she’s never been before, not to one of the others.

But Nancy begs everyone to listen first. She’s in tears shortly into her argument, her defence more of an apology than anything, and speeching a stance of what they can all do next, to keep this all together. She knows she fucked up. And Nancy usually doesn’t cry when trying to debate something. But Nancy knows what a whole mess this thing is, and it is entirely her fault; no one else to blame but her this time. She doesn’t want to lose the others either. And she can’t lose you, hopefully if the others stay with her, they’ll help you come back around to her too...

But when the other three first burst into your room, they are in shock.

Yeah they knew you were up here. God, they were practically scratching layers beneath their skin and bouncing the floorboards into dust, knowing you were tied up and frightened and all alone up there, but they were taking forever to talk downstairs. A family meeting without you... the last time that’ll happen, they swear okay? ...Apart from the ones where you don’t need to know something that will just upset you.

Immediately they’re running forwards and untying you. Nancy practically had your whole body bound in rope, she was really panicking after hitting you over the head and deciding to just take you.

Shock still on their faces as Eddie undoes your ear muffs and scarf blindfold from Nancy’s winter wear, wanting you to find your senses, caring about you more than anything else right now. He needs you to not be even more frightened, panicked, to know it’s him and you’re safe now and this will never happen to you again - it shouldn’t have. His hands brushing your cheeks as he removes them. His face tender and soothing and heightened with adrenaline, taking this so so seriously as he frees you, let’s you get your senses back. Keeps his hands stroking your cheeks as you see him, because you know Eddie will keep you safe.

Steve apologising profusely and promising you’re alright over and over, as he immediately moves to assessing the rope situation. Deciding to just cut them all with a pocket knife in his jeans, instead of having you in them for five more seconds. Taking it out and being thankful he has all his family here, because as you notice it’s them, your friends, coming to save you, once Eddie’s freed your eyes, you settle down enough so Steve won’t nick you, as he quickly gets to work. Fuck all this rope, Nancy shouldn’t need any more anyway, she shouldn’t be doing anything by herself anymore if she’s hurting you, and all of you, like this!

Robin breaking Eddie’s handcuffs Nancy stole that are tying you to the your bedpost, while you lay on the floor all wrapped up. She doesn’t even really know how she does it in the end. She just acts quick and makes sure not to hurt your wrist. Permanently breaking something belonging to Eddie’s personality that Nancy had twisted and used to victimise you... Robin could really mess with her right now. But at least once it’s done, it’s easier for Steve, dealing with all that rope. Used just for you, someone who wouldn’t hurt anyone. And you’ve been laying on the carpeted floor with your whole body tied up and senses stolen, with nothing even coating your injured head...

All their eyes wet and terrified and loving and soothing and deep in yours. Eddie holding your face as his dark puppy eyes stay closest to yours, walking you through some calming talk as he holds you. Steve promising he’s getting you out right now and shushing you as he says you’re okay, every time he feels it’s safe enough to look up from his knife, task oriented. Robin joining Steve the second she’s broken the cuffs, her blue eyes less teary and so determined, because she is deep in protective mode right now, letting you know when it’ll be over soon.

As soon as you see the others, especially with their shock, their runs to free you, their soothing and apologetic and horrified words, all you can think is thank god. You’re trying to tell them Nancy has suffered some kind of episode, even though you’re sure they already know that. Nancy wasn’t in this room, and they all knew where you were, they were still just shocked to see you like this.

As soon as they’ve got you free, you leap forward, and because of positioning alone, Steve is the first one you hug. He practically lifts you upright, back onto your feet, the moment he hugs you back, even if it does take him a second before he does so.

Steve sniffles as he hugs you, his toned arms shaking but not from the effort of those ropes. His cheek pressed to yours, as he blinks tears down his face, being brushed away by your hair as he lets you sink into his protective hold. Thanking him, hugging one of your best friends, because he saved you, like you knew he would.

Steve hugs you back, because he’s your hero briefly, and he’s aware this will be the last time you’ll hug him for a while. Any of them. Last time you’ll hug them like this, like the you who you still are, for a while. Steve doesn’t want you to change, Nancy shouldn’t have-

He knows this new arrangement will take some getting used to. For all of them. Especially because you probably are going to change as a person, as someone they all know, they love for who you are. But it’s okay, of course they’ll love you anyway, no matter what.

You tell them again about Nancy suffering some sort of break, clearly something is very wrong with her mental health you say, and they all say they know, which you assume they did as they knew where to find you. They’re all relishing in these last few seconds with you, mourning the normal future they know they could have had with you, by keeping their hands on you while they can right now

Steve rubbing your shoulders with his thumbs, his hands grounding you there with comfort and strength, after you pulled back from the hug. Eddie cupping your cheek and neck, still so close by, his other ringed hand cradling through your hair, and biting his lip as he tries not to think about next time he’ll be able to do this again. Robin rubbing your back up and down, her hand resting on your hip like it usually is with you, knowing she’s lost that normalcy, one type of relationship with you now.

And then you realise that all four of your friends are kidnapping you now. They’re all insane. What the fuck have they been thinking about you this entire time? Why are they doing this now? They’ve untied you from your restraints, Steve is nearly on his knees whilst keeping his hands on your shoulders, as he begs you to believe you’ll never be restrained again, but explains they’re still locking you in this room for now.

Stealing you in Steve’s slightly soundproofed house, with no neighbours in viewable distance through the trees of Hawkins around.

At least the house you were to be kept prisoner in was very lovingly built by the architect... The way out of Steve’s house was a straight line, a path easy for anyone facing that way to spot. Easy for them to see anyone leaving on. If no one came to the front door, and knowing - or rather not knowing what these four were capable of - you’re sure they’d be able to keep people away, then there’s no way you’d be spotted. And while Steve hadn’t soundproofed the house or anything dramatic like that, it did keep sound well. It kept everything in well. Which was unfortunate for you.

Begging one of them to be on your side. Doing so as soon they forlornly tell you what’s going to happen now, for the first couple of days. Like for Robin or Eddie to help you. You’re very quickly trying to refigure out your friends. But they don’t. They don’t let you free. They don’t get you the phone. They want you to know they are on your side, they tell you they don’t want you to feel like you’re all on your own, but you say that you are, because they won’t help you.

They sadly trot away, closing your door behind you, to respect you and your boundaries. Sulking away upset, even if they do understand. But if making them upset that they’re making you feel this way helps you get out, then good! But also they should feel upset! They should feel guilty!

You’ll tell them how abandoned and alone you feel, that neither of them are supporting you, you can’t trust them to be by your side, and they can’t promise you it’s untrue, because you have all this evidence to throw in their face, or to tearily testify with. They say they’ll do anything else for you, anything in the world. Even though every single thing you ask for the first day they say no to.

Nancy begging you not to blame/be mean to the others. But what else can you respond with other than actually you will keep doing so, as they are just as complicit as her because they are keeping you here.

“Do you know the law Nancy? They will also be thrown away for kidnapping. You definitely shouldn’t go for that position as a crime reporter, if you don’t know the law.”

The ‘will’ hurts Nancy. As if you really do want them all sent away to prison. Like you’d try to do that to them if they gave you that bit of freedom right now. Like you’re planning on it happening.

You don’t want Nancy to get that stupid promotion. You don’t exactly care how she feels about herself, unless it’s guilty enough to set you free... or upset enough to hurt- Unless it affects your chances of getting out of here unharmed, you couldn’t give one about her feelings.

“Also fuck you.” Is the other thing you say to Nancy. Right before she leaves you to yourself again.

They try to give you privacy, but also keep you at a level of interaction with them like before. Just like before Nancy hurt you - they are really apologetic for that, and really are glad you let them take care of your poor minor head injury. A similar amount of time that you’d interact with them everyday, before you lived with them. So you weren’t going through too many changes, and so you weren’t scared each time they did breach your new bedroom. They want you to feel normal, they really really do.

Steve mentioned to you about two weeks in, when he came in to chat with you like they all do, that if Nancy gets some promotion she’s working towards, it’ll mean more funds in the household for everyone! He says it while practically bouncing on your- the bed, with a smile. Although he quickly gets that expression on his face, the one you used to think was dorky and endearing, where he realised he may have messed up while speaking, and he quickly rectifies that of course that’s not to say anything negative about you now also pulling from the household pot, and that they’re very happy to have you, they’ve always been planning for that; especially since they know you really wanted that break because you were so burned out, so they were gonna give it to you with all their financial support. All their support in the world. Also, the amount they used to buy you gifts, or nights out, or pay for gas to see you, you were always a part of the pot anyway.

You tell Steve to go away, before he can smile for a second time today. It is very rare any of them smile, in this first week or two they have you. Sometimes they forget things aren’t like they used to be. Or they try to treat things like normal, to help you transition. But you definitely weren’t smiling, and they knew, no matter how much the fact made them want to claw their own hearts out, they knew they were the reason why. So they didn’t really feel any reason for them to smile. Not so far anyway.

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Kim Young-dae roles ranked from least interesting to most:

Perfect Family, Park Kyung-ho - dies in the first episode and mostly disappears after episode 4. Why is this actor still playing high school students? Dies very beautifully but not enough time to learn anything more than "nice" and "into the female lead"

Extraordinary You, Oh Nam-joo - the character is a broody, emotionally-unavailable trope and never really develops. Also, as one of the characters who never gains sentience, there isn't a lot going on here.

Penthouse War in Life 1-3, Ju Seok-hoon - all this character can do is be devoted to women (his twin, his crush, and his stepmom) and hate his dad. He also occasionally plays piano. Not bad traits, but not very exciting. He becomes slightly more active in S3 but not more interesting.

No Gain No Love, Kim Ji-uk - this character could have been so much better if he got more screentime but we rarely know what he's thinking or see his perspective. I did love that he was a male, super-friendly people-pleaser with abandonment issues since that's usually reserved for female characters. Unpopular opinion: they should have kept the long hair.

Moon in the Day, Han Jun-oh - dies in the first episode and yet that's enough time to fully hate every fibre of his being. He's obsessed with his girlfriend but in the worst way because she's over him. He calls children fat, has zero work ethic, and won't learn CPR. He's the worst. Great character.

Sh**ting Stars, Gong Tae-sung - so many layers to this character, he's very professional at work, unless he's (lovingly) harassing Oh Han-byul or experiencing PTSD. He's got abandonment issues and like 5 people he trusts. He's perfectly charming in public and ridiculous when no one is around. Super fun character.

The Forbidden Marriage, King Lee Heon - he vacillates between Cute Wife Guy (his true form), crying mess, and murderously angry. He's being psychologically tortured and is almost at his breaking point, but he just wants to be a silly little guy who loves his wife. Such an interesting character.

Moon in the Day, Kim Do-ha/Possessed Han Jun-oh - he's trying to commit suicide via letting an assassin live in his house, he's desperately in love with a woman and 100% convinced she'll kill him; he's determined to kill a reincarnation of said girl, but he can't because he still loves her despite all the murder and 1500 years of cursed existence. No one is doing it like him. Very good at glaring and standing around ominously but also at heart eyes. Will kill everyone if his girl has a fever

[what-have-i-unleashed]

your hand-grenade heart

gift for lovely moot @qin-qin16. happy early birthday!! (better early than late lol) hope you don't mind lovers-to-enemies (... or is it) crossdust :3

2k+ words of sadness. no warnings applied... i think.

cross isn't sure what part of the multiverse he has stumbled into. it was a stupid decision he made on the fly, opening his own portal inside of nightmare's own to prevent the guardian of negativity from dragging him back to the hell he knows nightmare would love to put him through again. the sudden time-space disruption caused a small implosion to happen, flinging cross across the dimensional stream until he landed face-first into the hard surface of lava-surrounded rocks.

and now, he's here in this barren universe, this empty underground, walking all the way to the lab to figure out where he is. the dead silence is messing with him quite a bit - an unfortunate aftereffect after living in a white space with virtually no one else (apart from xchara) for who knows how long. he takes a deep breath in and marches forward, resolutely ignoring the deluge of frantic thoughts starting to bubble up in his mind.

when he finally arrives at his destination, the first thing he does is checking the security footage on the computer in the lab, which dates back at least two years as he can see. he skims through the footage - no soul pops up on the monitor at all. this place has been dead for a long time, which is... unsettling. is this a pacifist timeline where monsterkind has all moved to the surface? or is this a failed genocide timeline that the human refused to properly delete for some reason? either way, he has to get out of here as fast as possible.

the thing is, his multiverse travel token has been broken since his fall into this universe. without xchara's powers, cross is essentially out of luck. he doesn't think he's knowledgeable enough about the mechanics behind travel tokens to fix his own.

which means he's basically a sitting duck for anyone coming across him right now. nightmare will find him before dream can, judging by how hard cross is sweating right now.

happy thoughts, cross! he thinks to himself. happy thoughts!

easier said than done, honestly. being stuck in an angel-damned universe with no obvious dimensional travel technology is a terrible situation.

... wait. he just remembers something. killer and dust often commented on how the machine in the basement under the snowdin's house is probably designed for time-space shenanigans. it might be broken, as it is usually is in most universes, but maybe its magic signature is similar enough to that of a travel token for him to charge the token up again.

it is a farfetched idea, but he has to try regardless.

his trip to snowdin is less nerve-wracking than he thought. there's something both soothing and frightening about the white snowy landscape. there's a familiar scent in the air, an electrifying taste in the snowfall that makes cross stop in his tracks.

... it can't be, right?

cross opens the door to the house at the end of snowdin, and-

-and dust greeted him with a tired mumble from the couch. cross grinned and stole a quick peck on dust's forehead, making the hooded skeleton blink in surprise at him.

"rough day?" cross asked, to which dust nodded, quieter than he usually was. an especially tough day then.

cross hummed, joining his boyfriend on the couch. he snuggled into dust's slightly larger frame, and dust made a half-indignant half-pleased purr in his throat. cross purred back, stretching himself so that his cheek was pressed on dust's collarbones. he saw, from the corner of his eyes, dust clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides, as if he was conflicted on whether to hold cross in his arms or not. dust's body was cold, but cross didn't mind that. he waited for his body heat to gradually trickle to dust, his layered uniform keeping him warm enough in this forever-snowy weather.

as time went by, dust hesitantly wrapped his arms around cross and pulled him closer. both of them stayed there on the couch, indulging in each other's closeness. cross let out a satisfied rattle deep inside his bones. he wished this idyllic scene could go on forever and ever and-

-and he feels like he has been blasted back to the past. the couch is still the same, or maybe it has gotten even dustier. it doesn't surprise him - he was the tidier between them two after all. what surprises him is that the house is not destroyed. everything is the same as it was, as if stuck in time, a photograph of a memory left untouched in a house of still lingering ghosts. cross traces his hands on the coffee table. his hand picks up a fine layer of dust.

his feet lead him to the kitchen next, where he sees the first sign of difference: a bunch of wine bottles discarded on the floor that no one has bothered to clean up. the fridge is not closed, emitting another breeze of coldness into the atmosphere. cross sits at the dining table, as if he's in a trance, as if he's dreaming. it's been so long, and yet everything is the same.

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to feel. he puts his shaky hands on the table and-

-and waited for dust to put his plate on the table. it was a bit embarrassing, being shooed off the kitchen because he didn't know how to cook anything else but soldier rations. dust was kind enough to ban him to the dining table and order him to stay still so he could fix the surprise, now fire hazard, that cross had intended for his boyfriend.

when dust placed the dish in front of cross, the soldier didn't know what to do but hang his head in shame. dust took the seat across from him and started eating.

"dig in," dust told him, and cross reluctantly picked up his spoon and slowly ate through it.

"uhm, look..." cross stammered, embarrassed. "i'm sorry about the fire. i didn't know the stove would do that..."

"it's fine," dust said, flippantly. "it wasn't a big fire anyway."

"yeah, but still..."

"i think it's quite cute of you to try to cook a surprise meal for me, cross," dust interrupted what cross had to say, and cross flushed.

"oh! uh..." cross scratched his head, laughing nervously. "it's our one-year anniversary. i just wanted to make you something nice..."

dust looked at him, a smile in his white eyelights. "like i said, it's cute. i appreciate it." he looked down at his plate. "no one has given me a nice gift in a long time."

cross felt his face get even hotter. he placed his spoon on the table, ready to say the words he'd been putting off for a while, and-

-and he resists the urge to flip it. is it anger singing in his veins, or frustration? or something else? he can't tell. all the memories here are suffocating in its sweetness, as if taunting him with a past that is no more.

it's dangerous to feel this way towards an enemy. it's his job now to protect other people from nightmare and his gang. penance for what he has done.

and yet, he can't help walking up the stairs. he can't help opening the door to their bedroom. he can't help staring at the untouched state of it. his - or more like dust's now - little plushies are still on his corner of the bed they have picked and put in the room. his shelf of comics are still there next to dust's shelf full of fiction novels. the crudely molded little ceramic rabbit he has made for dust still sits on the table, facing the window. everything is the same as it was. the same as the day he left dust behind.

*creaaak*

he doesn't know how long he has stood there at the doorway, but when he hears a click at the front door, his panic skyrockets. he quickly dashes inside the closet (where he briefly finds his monochrome clothes are still there) and holds his breath as he hears creaking footsteps coming upstairs and into the room.

peeking through the gap of the doors, he sees him. dust. his ex-lover. sitting silently on the bed, unmoving, staring outside of the window with his dull white eyelights. it's usually unsettling to see a silent dust on the battlefield, but in the domestic atmosphere of the house, dust's silence reads more as melancholic than dangerous. cross hasn't seen him like this in a long time. so still. so tranquil. so... pitiful. gone is the ferocious cannon of nightmare - what's left here is a broken vestige of a lonely being, trapping himself inside a house stuck in the past. he looks unhealthy, as if one breeze can take him down easily.

cross moves to see his former flame better, but then he accidentally steps on a coat hanger. a loud sound echoes in the silent space. and the figure on the bed twitches.

"who's there?" a murmur comes out of the hooded skeleton. cross doesn't dare breathe. dust continues, "come on. i know you're there. show your face."

cross doesn't obey. he stays still in the closet as dust walks around the place, his voice gradually getting louder.

"killer, i swear to asgore's beard, if i found you in here... i told you to get the fuck out of this universe!" a little mutter. "... yeah, yeah, you're right, paps. killer doesn't disobey nightmare, does he? must be someone else..."

cross can hear his soul beating frantically. dust walks back into the room, looking around and continuing to mumble to himself.

"might be that prissy error... though he wouldn't be stupid to destroy this universe... but that freak is crazy..."

dust swivels his head to the closet that cross is hiding in, his eyes a blazing red and blue. in a soul-stopping second, cross doesn't care that he doesn't know this place well enough anymore to do a shortcut, but he does anyway, teleporting himself to the middle of the living room. he stumbles upon crashing on the coffee table, and runs out of the front door once he hears the loud demented cackle from dust.

"i knew you're there!" he hears dust shout in delight.

cross runs and runs, uncaring of his injuries. his mind is a jumbled mess and his shallow breath is fogging up his already blurred vision.

he's gonna kill me, his inner voice yells at him. he's gonna kill me for sure. he never forgives me.

a bone attack sprouts from the ground and punctures his leg. with a pained yelp, cross collapses just as a heavy weight appears on top of him, one hand holding on his sternum.

"you fucking rat, i caught you!" he hears dust crow. "you think you can run from m-" the voice suddenly stops. "... cross?"

the grip on his sternum momentarily falters, and cross doesn't hesitate jabbing his smaller daggers right at dust's stunned face. the hooded skeleton falls back, and cross grabbed at dust's travel token, which he always keeps under his shirt, and yanks.

cross kicks at dust, hard, and wobbles on his feet again and runs. as if awaken from a nap, dust shouts, "wait! cross, wait!"

cross doesn't listen. he tries to keep as much distance as possible from dust, haphazardly teleporting through the snowy forest, all the while calibrating the co-ordinations of the token. his pain is at the back of his mind as he forces his body to power through the adrenaline.

"darling, please! don't run away!"

cross punches the co-ordinations he wants to go and pours his magic into the token. he sees it light up and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"cross!" he looks back and sees dust a few feet from him. "cross, i-"

he doesn't hear the next words coming out of dust's mouth. light envelops him as his body fractures into tiny particles traveling through the in-between of the multiverse. the last thing his eyes see before disappearing is the strange emotion on the face of his ex-lover, frozen in an anguished expression with red tears running down his cheeks. it doesn't look like dust at all.

huh. what a silly mirage he encounters.

dividers here by @\cafekitsune