#I DID get a tablet at one point but honestly? HATED it so much + when I drew with it it looked NOTHING like my style

[ballcrusher74]

still thinking about the fact that a friend I've known since like. I was 15 only recently found out I STILL draw with my mouse

[fingertipsmp3]

If anyone here keeps a reading/book journal what do you dooo. I feel like I’ve tried multiple options and none of them have really been perfect

[notroosterbradshaw]

Heatstroke

rooster fam, avert your eyes. here’s some old-school Bucky smut. I didn’t think I’d publish Bucky stuff here, yet here we are again. Hope you enjoy x

18+, smut, fluff. Bucky wasn't much of a talker but when he puts his foot in his fat mouth, he has to make amends somehow.

He’d heard you – you knew he had. The serum increased his awareness and blah blah blah, everyone knew his story by now and why you’d found yourself hidden behind the wall leading to the kitchen while Bucky intently studied his tablet, putting God knows what together at the bench.

You should have just stayed in your bedroom and messed around online, kept your laziness to yourself. It was safer than the situation you were about to walk into - of that you were sure. You needed another shower but the heat in the apartment would coat you in perspiration the second you towelled off anyway.

He’d heard your breathing and your elevated heart rate, he could probably smell the sweat of flight taking over as you debated whether or not to just miraculously appear and pretend not to have ducked back around the corner when you saw Bucky there.

“I know things are weird between us, but you hiding when you see me makes it a hellova worse, kitten,” he muttered. You let out an inward sigh, shoulders slumping as you turned and walked in, wiping your clammy palms on your sundress.

“Hey Buck,” you said quietly, taking to a stool across from him.

“What’s happening, babydoll?” he asked casually, not looking up from the herbs he was chopping – he was remarkable with a knife, you noted as he sliced and diced without abandon faster than any chef and much more precisely (you tried not to imagine how and when he learned the art form). You’d always found it strangely sexy when he had a knife in his hands and the precision that came with it – on missions and funnily, now in the kitchen. The smell of whatever was cooking was incredible and you hadn’t even seen what he had in the oven or on the stove. At recollection, it wasn’t his night to cook. It was���

“It’s my night to cook, could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I know you hate cooking for Steve and me, so thought I might cover for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, a little defensive though maybe a little touched.

He shrugged, looking up, a dark wisp of hair falling into his stony eyes and pushing it away with his flesh wrist. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I enjoy it, relaxes me. Consider yourself off the hook.”

Sure I will, you wanted to reply. Everything was tit for tat in the apartment the three of you shared. Bucky would find a way to get an inadvertent favour out of you at some point when you least expected it. “Well… thanks, I guess,” you said instead, finally raising your eyes. You blinked as you noticed the smirk on his features. “But in the interest of your safety, Buck, why are you not wearing a t-shirt under the apron?”

He was a dream in his beige canvas bib apron – it worked wonders against his fair skin and the silver of his cybernetic arm. His biceps, you were pretty sure, had you salivating. His shoulders were broad under the thin straps rippling as he moved his arms to prep.

You fucking loved Summer. Even if the apartment was a thousand damn degrees and usually hotter with the body heat of yourself and two super soldiers who always ran at boiling point. But if Bucky felt the need to parade around half-naked, you weren’t one to argue. It was a true sight to behold.

“Honestly? Felt liberating to be naked,” he licked his upper lip, squinting at the recipe again before humming to himself in thought.

You peeked over the bench and noticed his bare calves and bare feet and had to scoff a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Bucky. Are you wearing anything?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“What if Steve comes home?”

“I’ll hear him,” he reminded you. “Just like I heard you.”

“And why did you think it would be okay if I saw you like this? You knew I’d come in here to start cooking eventually.”

He stabbed the knife into the wooden chopping back and grinned at you, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re the only one that has seen me in less, sugar. Shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” he waved his cybernetic hand up and down his torso a little smugly.

You felt the heat rise from your toes to your hair, resting back on your chair and curling in on yourself. “I don’t think we need to bring this up now – ”

He rumbled a laugh low in his belly. “I’m wearing shorts, for fuck’s sake. What kind of deviant do you take me for?” he turned around and wriggled his toned bubble butt in his blue board shorts as you resisted a giggle. They were well hidden due to the length of the apron. “See?”

“Do we really need to go there?” you mumbled as he plucked the knife back up and continued his prep. He didn’t look up but you could see his cheekbones rise into a lurid smile.

“Anytime, anywhere, babydoll. You know that.”

You knew that very well.

You shook your head gently and started to push yourself away. “Righto – well, since it looks like you’ve got it all covered, I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky hummed his disapproval. “Nuh-uh. You, stay. You’re not getting out of it that easily,” he paused to stop and point the knife at you. “I’m cooking and you’re gonna open this bottle of wine,” he said, handing one that was on the bench to you along with the bottle opener (you noticed it was one from Stark’s private collection). “And then we’re going to sit down to eat and talk. Clear the air,” he announced, opening the bottle still in his hands when you didn’t reach for it.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you said as he sighed and poured you both a generous glass of vivid Bordeaux red.

“Drink,” he repeated. “Then we talk.”

“Cheers to you too,” you muttered though credit where credit was due, Bucky had found a good one. He raised himself a glass and toasted you gently.

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he winked before heading to the stove to continue his assault on the kitchen.

“Where is Steve?” you asked, your second glass well and truly going down a treat, loosening you up considerably. You were in your usual seat as Bucky wandered in, now with a shirt and placed a plate before you and one for him at his usual place across from you.

“No idea,” Bucky shrugged.

You weren’t a complete idiot, he knew this. You assumed this is why he’d volunteered dinner and made sure the bottle of wine was on hand. It was discussion time and Bucky knew what you didn’t want to talk about.

You were resisting taking your relationship to the next level. He hadn’t pressured you, but everything had been pointing in that direction and it terrified you.

It was only supposed to be a joyous and mutually beneficial ‘friends with benefits’-type of arrangement. No harm, no foul to either of you until he mumbled that he loved you ‘so fucking much’ a week or so ago as he drifted off to sleep after a strenuous mission and recovery fuckathon upon his return home.

“It’s only us, isn’t it?” you sighed, taking the salad from the middle of the table and loading your plate up before continuing, “You made sure he’s out for the night.”

“Yeah,” he gave a small smile. “He’s at some bar with Sam and Natalia. It’s just us, babydoll,” he confirmed, taking a sip of his wine and watching your reaction through his dark lashes. He had to admit, he loved seeing you squirm. “I asked him to make himself scarce.”

“Of course you did,” you focused on your (argh, perfectly cooked at medium rare, fuck it) steak and piled it into your mouth as gracefully as you could. Bucky watched you, humoured.

“Well, at least you haven’t bolted yet,” he noted jovially.

“Don’t confuse me sitting here without me wanting to do that,” you sniped, ticked off he’d lulled you into a false sense of security.

“Look,” he delicately sliced his steak and took a bite, chewing as he continued, “I know I threw you, I’m real well aware I should have kept my fat fuckin’ trap shut. I just thought I wasn’t comin’ home to you, okay?” his voice suddenly low and eyes were paying very close attention to his food.

You sat up straighter at his confession and he sighed while your eyes widened. “Bucky… what happened?” you put your wine glass down and pushed your plate away with a clang.

He tried to brush the thought away. “It’s not about that – ”

“Buck, it’s exactly like that,” you stood up and walked around the table. He moved his chair back as you lifted the loose skirt of your dress and crawled onto him to straddle across his lap. “What happened?” you begged, lifting his chin for his stony eyes to meet yours, keeping his jaw in your soft palms. “Look at me.”

His cybernetic hand reached for his face and rubbed his eyes, suddenly he looked exhausted. “Was ambushed,” he said quietly. “I’m not telling you the small details – you don’t needa know – ” he held a hand up to your mouth that was open and ready to protest. “By the time Steve got there, I was the last one standing. Don’t worry.”

“Who?” you asked quietly, your warm hands rubbing against his stubbly cheeks before settling on the back of his neck and massaging his smooth, warm skin, twirling soft hair around your fingers to calm him. He moved to rest his forehead on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging to you for dear life - it was uncommon for Bucky to react this way and it terrified you.

You had to remind yourself all you wanted to do was comfort him. That is what you had agreed to in the very beginning when this mess started. Comfort, familiarity, fun.

Not love.

“They tried the triggers,” he whispered, not looking up, the shame evident in his rough voice. “I know they don’ work any more, but babydoll, I just…” he looked up and inhaled sharply. “I thought I was a goner. I didn’t think I was coming home.”

You kissed his hair, only to imagine his fear as he set the scene for you. The devastation your heart was feeling for him to have to go through that - knowing it was something he’d been through for decades and it constantly repeated for him.

“You’re okay, Buck. I’m right here. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Not again,” you cooed on repeat, hoping he knew and understood.

He nodded, pulling you closer. You heard a sniff and he tightened his grip again, knowing how intensely he needed you. “I’m sorry about what I said. But I can’t apologise for how I feel, baby,” his voice so low you almost couldn’t hear it. “I love you.”

You nodded. “I know, Buck,” you replied quietly.

“And as much as you deny it,” he said. “I know exactly how you feel too, sweetheart.”

You raked your hands through his long dark hair hoping to relieve some tension in his body and pulled his gaze back to yours.

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s fine.”

“Don’t be like that,” you begged. “Bucky, I do – ”

“I know, I told you,” he said with a small smile, grasping your sides under his strong hands. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready and I promise I won’t be surprised.”

You couldn’t resist the scoff that bubbled to your lips as he brightened considerably, a playful smirk now on his lips. You slid off his thighs and returned to your side of the table, stuffing your mouth with salad, the aura in the room changed for the better. “Times like this make me really not wanna say it,” you huffed.

“Times like this make me really want to bend you over the table and have my way with you,” he retorted as you choked on a piece of cucumber and he took a sip of wine, completely cool and collected. You swallowed hard and had a sip yourself to calm yourself. Resolve set in.

“Then what are you waiting for, big boy?” you challenged as the table lurched and he stood, his predatory stalk around the dinner table as he hitched you from your seat, his breath heavy down your neck as he took you in. “What am I waiting for? I’ve been waiting for you my whole life and now you’re here. You’ll rue the day you asked, princess,” he hitched you over his shoulder and made his way to your room, slamming the door closed with his foot as the walls rattled and he tossed you on the bed, his hungry gaze telling you to you were in strife.

And you couldn’t wait.

The next morning, the other side of your bed was empty. Cool, Bucky must have been up for a while. You sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. You hadn’t gotten much sleep and your tummy was rumbling after missing most of your dinner the night before for other more extraneous activities.

“Buck?” you called quietly, finding your discarded underwear and throwing his t-shirt from the night before on. You ran your hands through your mussed hair and pushed it off your face before padding quietly back to your room to retrieve your dressing gown in case Steve was home. While he was supportive of whatever it was he thought you and Bucky had, he had announced it was only fair the bedtime behaviours weren’t thrown in his face, to which you and Bucky agreed.

But apparently not this morning.

You burst out laughing as you entered the kitchen. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?” Bucky looked back over his shoulder. “See something you like?”

“Clearly Steve isn’t home yet,” you noted as you approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, sneaking your cold hands under the apron he wore over the stove and touching his scorching skin. He let out a slight shriek at your cool touch. He never was fond of the cold.

Bucky laughed quietly. “No, Steve didn’t come home. Guess he stayed at the Tower.”

“You told him to stay at the Tower too, didn’t you?” you sighed. Poor Steve. Relegated to the Tower from his own apartment so his roommates could do… well, a lot to each other.

“Yeah,” he snorted.

“Gotta say though. A bit of a fan of this naked chef caper you’ve got going on right now,” you gave his body an appreciative once over and weren’t overly surprised to find your body going back into overdrive for him.

“Naked as the day I was born, kitten,” he confirmed as your hands travelled from his broad, muscular shoulders and traced down his bulging biceps (one warm, the other cool under your touch) through to his delts, lats and descending to grab a handful of bare ass that was begging to be groped. He chuckled darkly, wriggling his butt again. “My junk is very close to the hot plate, sweetheart. Don’t get too frisky. It won’t be a desired result for either of us!”

You stifled a giggle. “Never,” you replied, kissing rippled scar tissue on his left shoulder blade. A visible shudder shot through him as he melted like butter under your lips.

“That feels fuckin’ amazin’,” he crooned, his usually well-concealed Brooklyn accent seeping through due to his increased desire, head lolling back a little. His loose dark hair shimmied across his shoulders softly.

“So, what’s cooking here, chef?” you held his hips and loosened the straps to the apron. You felt him pause.

“Uh, pancakes, baby. What’s cooking back there?” he replied as you raised the strap of the apron over his head, letting it pool at his bare feet and leaving him completely undressed. He swiftly turned the burners off. You turned him to face you as he took a step closer and thankfully, away from the stove and loosened your dressing down, curious as to what may be hiding underneath. “I see you dressed yourself again. Musn’t ‘ave got my memo,” his tone a little miffed as you giggled into his skin. “Nice shirt though. Have one similar. Looks better on you, I gotta admit,” he smiled, running his tongue across his gleaming teeth. “Think you should lose it.”

You nodded as he lifted the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere over your shoulder as he hitched you up and sat you on the bench, spreading your knees wide so he could stand between them.

“Fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he licked his full, plump lips predatorily. The heat of his gaze eyes screamed passion, lust and maybe a little danger. Humming, he ran his calloused hands from a tug of your hair to the seam of your undies. He forced your gaze to him as he used his cybernetic hand to push them to the side, eagerly sliding his finger between your warm, slippery folds. 

It embarrassed you that you were always on for him. Your breath hitched at the coolness his touch brought and goose bumps cascaded across your body. 

“This may be the only place in the apartment that I’ve never had my way with you,” he muttered before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your neck, your scent as well as his cologne on your skin from the day before grounding him.

Resting your forehead on your shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his chest in hopes to keep upright.

“You okay?” he whispered, his tongue tracing the rim of your ear and his thumb drawing patterns on your clit, your reply incoherent. “Should I keep going?” he whispered as he took one of your hands from him and repositioned it around his eagerly awaiting cock.

“You should definitely keep going,” you insisted, your hand with a mind of its own as you swirled the pre-come around the tip of his straining head and put your palm to work, twisting and tugging as his hips started to move off their own volition. 

“We eat here,” he grunted. “You pretty little hand tho...”

You gasped as a current ran through your body. “We’ll just make sure we disinfect,” you shuddered before you could finish the sentence. “Really well,” you finally managed as his fingers sent shockwaves through your system. “God, that feels good,” your head fell back as he smiled wickedly, pleased. “But I want you.”

He took a step closer, released your grasp on him and used his hand to slide his cock in just enough before he used his hands to hold your cheeks, he licked your lip and kissed you wet and wildly, his tongue forceful against yours as he moved within you and thrusting gently. Slow to the hilt, knowing exactly how you liked it. It was perfection how well he could make your body succumb to his whim. 

“Jesus,” you managed against his mouth. “Bucky,” you breathed as your torsos meshed together.

“I know, baby girl,” he promised, his hips picking up a gentle rhythm, slow and turning you inside out. “It feels fuckin’ amazin’ to me too.”

“I feel it,” you told him, dragging his eyes to meet you. “I feel it,” you confided. The way your heart raced when you were around him, the lust, the need... the devotion to keeping him safe and desire to be all he needed. 

You loved Bucky Barnes wildly, madly, terrifyingly so. 

“I know, darlin’, I know you love me. I love you so much too,” he sealed your words with a softer kiss, though it seeped with so much passion. “You don’t have to – ” he groaned, unable to hold it back as his hips started moving again. “You don’t have to say it back.”

You managed to push him back at arm's length, his lustfully dark eyes fluttering open as he looked back at you, a little confused. “I do, Buck.”

He breathed, his hands running from your jaw, down the curve of your neck, between your breasts, tickling your belly lightly and resting on your thighs. “Then say it,” he dared.

“I love you, Buck.”

The grin that spread across his face looked like it may have hurt him, his stony eyes shining and the dimples on his cheeks making a rare appearance. “Well, there ya go,” he teased, moving closer again, his lips moving to yours as he returned your affirmation. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You sighed quietly and he shut you up with a firm thrust, reminding you both where you were and the task at hand. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him close as his mouth left wet kisses against your skin. He grasped your thighs, getting closer as your head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Need you. Make me cum.”

“I’ve got you, baby doll,” he whispered. “Lemme make you feel real fuckin’ good, okay?” he begged as he moved his warm fingers to your centre again.

“Christ,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to where your bodies met, the sexiest sight and allowing your body to tighten as suddenly all you could see was white, your body quaking as you came undone and collapsed backwards on the bench as he caught you with a humoured huff.

All this power he had over you and the three words said aloud made it even better.

“Yes, baby,” he chuckled lowly, his movements starting to get a little erratic, taking absolutely everything you had to offer to him, not much longer before his hips sped up, bringing him to his climax as well and crashing into you like a freight train as he came, harsh and ragged, desperate. “Jesus, fuck,” he panted, pulling your body impossibly closer. “I love you,” he whispered again, taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. “I fucking love you so much. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you said again as he gave you a softer kiss, his phone pinging across the counter. “God, that’s not work, is it?” you asked him. You knew your luck was running out, he’d been home for a few days and knew time was dwindling before he was to assemble.

He sighed. “I dunno, sweetheart,” he gave you a meek grin as he gently pulled out, your thighs crossing quickly to avoid a sticky mess across the counter. He sighed and checked his phone. “Worse.”

“Unless it's aliens or robots back to fuck shit up again, it cannot be worse. So, where are you off to?” you sighed sadly.

“Nowhere,” he chuckled. “Steve complaining about livin’ it up in the Tower while we made house here,” he winked. You gave Bucky a shy smile as he rolled his eyes and replied to Steve before picking up the apron and discarded clothes. “Come on, let’s get you showered, love,” he tugged your hair and gave you another gentle kiss. “Then I’ll make you lunch.”

“Dressed?” you asked, hoping to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Probably best,” he sighed, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom to clean up a long night and another leisurely round against the cool shower tiles. “Grumpy old bastard will be home at some point.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry this one is a bit short. i am worrying myself silly until tomorrow.

masterlist

and wouldn't you love to love her?

Bucky didn't know if Y/N wouldn't be back. He had decided to give her space, allow her the time off since she never had any but explaining it to Sadie was, to say the least, complicated. The two year old had decided to live up to the terrible two cliche and between refusing to go to school and kicking any time he tried to bathe her. Whenever she asked when Y/N would be back all Bucky could say was that he did not know and, honestly, that was the truth. The more the days passed by and her viva examination got closer, he was starting to believe more and more that maybe she just wasn't coming back at all. I like you just the way you are, what ever happened to Hey Y/N, would you like to go for some coffee? No, he just had to be upfront about it.

As if Sadie living up to her prophecy wasn't enough, Christopher was equally on him blabbing and wondering about Y/N. He could only tlel him so much before Chris charted a jet to Ohio and he was certain Y/N would hate that more than what he told her.

Bucky was in the middle of dealing with Sadie screaming bloody murder about the pancakes not having chocolate chips when he heard the front door close. At this point, if someone came to shoot him in the head he wouldn't mind. However, it turned out to be a much pleasant sight dressed in a professional black dress.

      - Why is she crying? - Y/N drapped her coat over the chair.

      - There's no chocolate chips. - Bucky sighed both of relief that Y/N was here and of tiredness.

      - Sadie Barnes, you either eat your pancakes or there will be no TV, no tablet, no toys, no Etch-a-Sketch and definitely no Bluey, Disney + or any other streaming service your dad may be paying for. Your choice.

The redhead stared at Y/N before starting to eat her pancakes. That's it, Y/N was a witch. She had to be a witch. That's it. She was a witch, a very pretty witch who looked way too polished to have come out of an Ohio farm, but a witch.

      - How were the cows?

      - Pardon?

      - Your parents. You went to see your parents right? They live in a farm in Ohio?

      - Yeah. They were ok. Apparently mum has named them Rose, Sophia, Dorothy, and Blanche much to dad's dismay.

      - Like the Golden Girls. - he chuckled. - So, your viva is today.

      - Don't remind me. It's like walking into a slaughter house and then being denied being called a doctor. They should decapitate me, put my head on a spike, and parade me around Columbia as the massive disappointment.

      - What's decapitate? - Sadie asked.

      - It's the capital. - Bucky said not wanting to traumatise his two year old with the scenario Y/N had just described. - Go wash your hands and get your backpack, bug.

Sadie nodded but not before going over to hug Y/N's leg. Y/N ruffled her head before sending her along to wash her hands. Bucky got to making Y/N a plate, patting the chair next to him. She smiled at him before taking a seat and cutting a bit of the pancake. She stopped chewing, looking at him with a forced smile.

      - Good?

      - Buck, why are they salty? - she put a napkin in front of her mouth to spit out the pancake.

      - They're not salty. - Bucky took a forkful from her plate to try it himself.

      - We've had this discussion, Buck. Salt is in the black pot and sugar in the white one.

      - I'm gonna be a mess when you quit. - he pushed the plate away from her. - Speaking of which, I would like if you interviewed your future replacement. I trust you to pick the right person.

      - Most likely you won't need a replacement because I'm failing my viva today.

      - You are not. - Bucky put his hand on her shoulder. - You are smart, Baudelaire.

      - Baudelaire?

      - Do the scary thing first. Get scared latter.

(...)

Bucky drove Y/N down to Columbia, ensuring she got there safe and ready for her VIVA before driving down to take Sadie to school. Y/N swallowed in empty, merely staring at the hallowed halls of a building which had many notable alumni and she was now hoping she would be one. The VIVA was intense to say less and as she came out of the room, she was sweating buckets and wanting to be as far away from the building as possible.

      - Y/N! - shit. Shit, shit, shit, she'd forgotten he existed. What ever happened to men taking a hint?

      - Chris. - she turned around with a fake smile. - What are you doing here?

      - Anderson told me it was your VIVA today, I wanted to come see you. I haven't seen you in a while and Barnes said you were on holiday.

      - I thought after our last chat you wouldn't want to talk to me, Christopher.

      - It was a hurdle, Y/N. - he got closer to her. - Listen, I understand it was rough of me to attack your job like that but you have to understand it's because I care for you and that job is beneath you.

      - No job is beneath anyone, Christopher. You think that silver spoon mouthed talk is gonna make me forget you basically insulted me, my boss and the child I look after?

      - You have a Bachelors and a Masters, Y/N. You should be working internships, assistant positions to help you build your curriculum, not being a silver spoon mouthed man's child's babysitter.

      - That's all fine when you can afford to work a non paid position, Christopher.

      - I care about you, Y/N.

      - But I don't love you.

      - I don't expect you to love me yet, we haven't been seeing each other for too long and if we ...

      - Christopher. - she interrupted him. - I love someone else. It's not gonna stop.

(...)

Y/N dragged herself home. It was now a week, a week long of worrying wether she passed or not. She guessed it was better than having to do it again, heck she hoped she wouldn't have to do it again. She opened the door and heard mumbling with all the lights being off. She moved to turn the lights on, coming face to face with a home made sign and Sadie yelling surprise.

      - What is this? - she smiled, leaning down to pick Sadie up.

      - You're done, it's a party. - Bucky chuckled, pointing to the sign. - We have reservations in about 3 hours. Bought an ice cream cake and Sadie made you a card.

      - You shouldn't have done this.

      - What? After 3 years and a half of you moaning and whining over psychology, you need a nice night out.

      - You do know she'll start crying at around 10.

      - That's why we have dinner reservations at 6.30 and once she's in bed, I will allow you full control of the television. How does that sound?

      - I may not pass.

      - You got this far. You deserve a celebration just for you.

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @buckybarnessimpp

[lynzishell]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire 💛Atlas & Asher🩵

✨TYSM for the tag @raiiny-bay, @zosa95, @dandylion240, @sirianasims, and @hannahssimblr 🤗💖

Of course, I went overboard with this, so grab your favorite beverage and let's dive right in, shall we? ☕💕

-what common/uncommon fear do they have?

💛Atlas: [Pointing to Asher] Water. 🩵Asher: You can’t just leave it at that. It’s not like if you set a glass of water on the table, I’ll run screaming. I have a fear of drowning, so I don’t like to be submerged in water. You’re never going to catch me out swimming. Probably not on a boat either, while we’re at it. Not taking any chances. 💛Atlas: Fair enough. But you won’t even put your face under the water in the shower. 🩵Asher: That’s because it reminds me of being submerged in water. Anyway, this conversation is making me sweaty, and there just happens to be water on the other side of this fence, so let's change the subject. Next question.

-do they have any pet peeves?

🩵Asher: Oh, Atlas fuckin’ hates mindless small talk, like the kind you use just to fill the silence, or because you awkwardly feel like you need to talk to the person next to you. Seriously, he’ll like you a lot more if you just sit next to him in silence for an hour. 💛Atlas:  Very true. And yet, your record for silence is, what, twenty minutes?  🩵Asher: Maybe. But I don’t make mindless small talk. 💛Atlas: Yeah, I do like listening to you ramble on about your latest obsessions. You get all animated and excited, it’s really cute. 🩵Asher: You’re really cute.

-what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

💛Atlas: Uh, I don’t know, what’s in our room besides the obvious? Probably too many electronics. 🩵Asher: Right, between the computer and the switch and my drawing tablet and our phones... 💛Atlas: And your sketchbooks and pencils. How many pencils does someone need? 🩵Asher: I don’t have enough; I’ll tell you that much. Count yourself lucky that most of my art supplies are scattered between Lex’s place and my parents’ house. One day I’ll get it all organized in one place, but that day is not today.

-what do they notice first in a person?

🩵Asher: Hm. That's a good question. What did you notice about me first? 💛Atlas: Your hair, obviously. 🩵Asher: [laughs] 💛Atlas: But no, I would say your eyes. I’d never met anyone with such pure gray eyes before, they’re striking. Your eyes are very expressive too. And you make eye contact with people more than anyone else I know. Like, whenever I talk to you, I always feel like you’re really listening. 🩵Asher: [smiles] I am.

-on a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

🩵Asher: Oh god, mine is probably like a 5, and Atlas’s is probably a fuckin’ 8 or 9. 💛Atlas: I would’ve said 7, but we can go with 8.

-do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

💛Atlas: I think my first instinct is freeze, but then probably flight. Depending on the situation, I’ll walk away or hide away. 🩵Asher: Mostly. But with James, you definitely went to fight. 💛Atlas: That was different. I don’t care if people hurt me, but I’m not going to let them hurt the people I love. Ash is definitely more of a fighter than I am.  

-do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

🩵Asher: I don’t come from a big family, it’s just my parents, me, my sister, and my niece, but we are very close. But honestly, family isn’t just about relatives. Chosen family is just as important. When I say my family is the most important thing to me, I don’t just mean them, I also mean Atlas and Lex and Dawn and Phoenix and Aspen too. And Jasper, obviously. 💛Atlas: Exactly. If we’re talking about relatives, I come from a very large family, but I will never see or speak to any of them again, except for Dawn, of course. A few years ago, I never would’ve considered myself a family person, but Ash’s family taking me in changed all that. I’d definitely say I am now. 🩵Asher: I love that.

-what animal represents them best?

💛Atlas: Oh, that’s easy. Ash is just like Jasper, his border collie. Playful and energetic, friendly, intelligent, hardworking, and he loves to snuggle. 🩵Asher: Hm. I think for Atlas, I’d say a deer. 💛Atlas: A deer? 🩵Asher: Yeah, like, you’re quiet and cautious, a bit anxious with a tendency to hide, but you’re also beautiful and sweet. 💛Atlas: You make me sound more like a bunny. 🩵Asher: No, definitely not a bunny. Have you ever come upon a big buck deer? They’re majestic and intimidating, and they’ll kick your ass if they have to. They’re… survivors.

-what is a smell that they dislike?

💛Atlas: Ammonia. 🩵Asher: No one likes the smell of ammonia. 💛Atlas: I know, but when I was a kid, at the end of every school year, we’d have to clean our desks with this ammonia spray. Twenty kids spraying ammonia in an enclosed room. It was awful. I’m sure they had the windows open, but even still, that smell is seared into my brain, makes me want to gag just thinking of it.

-have they broken any bones? if so, how?

🩵Asher: Okay, story time! So, when I was ten? Eleven? Something like that. Anyway, I was dancing around in my room, as one does, and I tripped on a book, one of many scattered around my disaster of a room, and tried to catch myself as I went down. Bad decision. I’ll spare you the details, but the pain I felt in my wrist was horrible. I literally saw stars. And then I almost puked when I looked at it. So, of course, I started screaming for my mom. She came running in, and I told her that I’d broken my wrist. And what did she do? She yanked on it and snapped it back into place! Because apparently, I’d just dislocated it. But, fuck, it hurt. If a broken bone is worse than that, then I hope I never break one. 💛Atlas: I broke a toe once. Stubbed it on the corner of my bed when I was in college. I wasn’t good about taping it up or anything either, so it healed a little crooked.

-how would a stranger likely describe them?

🩵Asher: For Atlas? One word: quiet. How they interpret that quietness varies though. Some people think he’s really shy, others think he’s just aloof. But he’s actually neither. He’s introverted and pensive, sure, but he’s also very warm and enjoys chatting with people if it’s a more meaningful conversation, y’know. Like, when we first met, we would talk for hours and hours. 💛Atlas: That’s true, but you’re such an easy person to talk to. I think that’s what people would say about Ash. He’s just very relaxed and friendly and has a way of putting people at ease. He’s good at connecting with people and getting them talking and making them laugh.  

-are they a night owl or a morning bird?

🩵Asher: Probably night owls, I’d say. Atlas prefers starting his day later and working late, if he has the option. 💛Atlas: Yeah, but these days, it feels like I’m working all the time. But even still, Ash starts his day earlier. I don’t know. I think he’s somehow both. He has no issues with mornings, but he also gets a burst of energy in the evening and sometimes it’s hard to get him to come to bed. 🩵Asher: To sleep, anyway. 💛Atlas: [laughs] Right.

-what is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

💛Atlas: Ah, Ash hates vinegar and anything pickled. And he loves warm spices like cinnamon and cardamom. 🩵Asher: Oh my god, and Atlas is fuckin’ backwards when it comes to this. He likes bitter flavors to a strange degree, like super bitter beer and strong coffee and he’ll only eat chocolate if it’s the super dark stuff, otherwise he hates it. He doesn’t like sweets. No sugary drinks or candy or even pastries.

-do they have any hobbies?

🩵Asher: We both love gaming and dancing. Otherwise, I like to draw and spend time with my dog. My favorite is taking him down to the beach to play fetch, he loves it there. 💛Atlas: Yeah, and I don’t know, I like to stay active because I feel like I’m constantly at a desk otherwise. I used to rock climb a lot, but since we climbed Mt. Komorebi, we took a break and never really got back to it, so I pretty much just run and work out at the gym occasionally. And I like to sing. 🩵Asher: Seriously, I wish you could hear him. He has the most incredible voice. 💛Atlas: Aw, thank you.

-boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

💛Atlas: Ash would love it! He’d be so stoked that everyone showed up for him like that. 🩵Asher: And Atlas would probably dump me on the spot if I ever did that to him. 💛Atlas: I don’t know if I’d dump you, but… okay, yeah, I probably would.

-do they like to wear jewelry? if so, what is their favorite piece?

🩵Asher: I don’t think I’ve ever seen Atlas wear any jewelry. 💛Atlas: No, I’ve tried, but I could never get used to it. I’d always end up taking it off by midday. 🩵Asher: I can see that. I wear earrings, but that’s it. I used to wear a necklace that an ex gave me, but I threw it out when we broke up. I wanted to throw it into the ocean, but I didn’t dare to walk out on the dock [laughs] so I tossed it in a dumpster instead. 💛Atlas: I didn’t know that. Which ex? 🩵Asher: Elias. 💛Atlas: Ahh. Yikes. 🩵Asher: Yeah. Anyway. Next question.

-do they have neat or messy handwriting?

💛Atlas: I think we both write fairly neat. 🩵Asher: I think so too. Yours is all sharp angles, but it’s not sloppy. 💛Atlas: Yeah, and you have a strong preference for uppercase letters. Sometimes it’s rushed, but it’s never messy. Actually, I’ve never thought about it before, but I really like your handwriting. 🩵Asher: I like yours too.

-what are two emotions they feel the most?

🩵Asher: [points to Atlas] Anxious. 💛Atlas: All of the time. 🩵Asher: And, hm, we can only pick two? I’d probably go with either introspective or focused. 💛Atlas: That’s probably right. For you, I’d say, passionate or inspired and then maybe playful or energetic or something like that. Okay yeah, passionate and playful.

-do they have a favorite fabric?

💛Atlas: Probably cotton, I guess. 🩵Asher: Yeah, same. I don't know. Never really thought about it, to be honest.

-what kind of accent do they have?

🩵Asher: I don’t know. Do we have accents? I mean, I guess Atlas gets a hint of a drawl when he drinks, it’s pretty cute. 💛Atlas: I do not. 🩵Asher: You do! I never told you because I didn’t want you to get self-conscious and try to stop. 💛Atlas: It’s a good thing I don’t drink often, I guess. 🩵Asher: Whatever. I love it. 💛Atlas: And I love you. 🩵Asher: I love you too.

And I love them too!! 🥹

Okay, whew! What are the chances anyone actually read all that? I really can't just be normal about these things, can I? Oh well... Now it's your turn!! I'm gonna tag @madebysimblr, @crownsofesha, @xldkx, @honeyjars-sims, aaaaaaaaaaand @igotsnothing 🤸🏻‍♀️💖 Answer them normally, or have a little fun with it, or ignore me completely, that's fine too (no it's not) 🫶🏻

[diezmil10000]

2023 art summary + thoughts on my own art progress under the cut!!

(template by HedgeCatDragonix on deviantart)

so i've been doing this for 10 years :P

i'm not posting these pics in high quality, they're somewhere on the internet if you want to scavenge for a bit. i didn't start taking art seriously until late 2015 and i honestly don't like looking back at old drawings. i still like my 2022 art summary but it wasn't until this year that i'm proud of all my finished artworks.

my art journey is complicated. i'm not one of those artists who can say they've been drawing for all their lifes. i used to trace pokémon in my school agendas but that was it. around 2013, a couple of friends invited me to their Skype server where we used to draw each other's ocs and make art memes and stuff - it was fun and cringe in the most positive way i can say it :] i didn't know shit about art and i took pride in drawing on MS Paint with a mouse just because it was hard.

(all of my drawings until may 2018 were made with a mouse)

when i was 15 yo i got into Love Live! and i decided to get better at art because i didn't want lesbian fanart to be made only by creepy cishet men. at some point i watched this video from Sycra and it rewired my brain. i understood that i needed to actually practise and understand what i was doing, and that i wasn't going to improve just by observing. its follow-up video also helped me a lot, i remember watching it on the day it was posted jskhfdjdfd.

and so fast forward until 2021 approx. i spent all of those years practising drawing in my traditional sketchbooks, so my improvement was steady. the only problem, and in retrospective i see it as a Big Problem, is that i was grinding mindlessly. by that i mean that i copied artists i liked and i drew again and again stuff i was bad at, but i didn't think too deeply about it or analysed my own art to look for faster ways to improve it. i also don't take feedback well so i didn't ask for it either, which further slowed down my progress.

on top of it, that just made me better at drawing, not at illustration. i firmly believe that a good drawing is hard to ruin but i could have made my illustrations way more interesting if i had started going wild with colors and effects way earlier. i don't exactly regret my choices because at the end of the day it's just my hobby, and i've been praised for drawing a lot and for challenging myself to practise drawing traditionally, so i want this to be read as introspection rather than complaints!!

the reason why 2021 was a big change in my art is because in november i did this monstrosity:

i got an Android tablet to be able to draw in class and took the challenge alongside my friend Nico, who also did their own Huevember. hola si estás leyendo esto Nico, aunque lo dudo :) i can't say that any of the drawings made me better at anatomy, or composition, or colors. i can't say that they solidified my knowledge, either. but they planted a seed in my brain that would fully bloom in late 2022, which is the seed of hating the finished result of some pieces so much that i forced myself to improve.

everyone has their own motivation to get better at art and i've always thought that mine was a healthy one (i want to draw more lesbians, that's all). however, i've had a very solid 2023 and now i don't cringe at any of my pieces, plus i can notice any mistakes they have without wanting to delete them from existence - and i could only get there because at the end of 2022 i told myself i wouldn't make any more ugly illustrations. like, period. i didn't want to get anxious every time i had to look back on my own art.

i also learned that no ammount of compliments from others would magically make me like a piece i see as mid at best. of course, i appreciate every single nice comment i get (genuinely, i get very happy knowing that other people love my work), but gratitude doesn't fix a skill issue.

so, late 2022, many things happened. first i got cancelled on twitter over a drawing of my beloved mizuki from project sekai (this info will be relevant later). then i spent a whole month doing this other monstrosity that is to this day the best thing i've ever done. i haven't peaked it (yet):

this comic actually made me improve and solidify my skills. it wasn't a class assignment, or a collaboration, or anything more than a headcanon i shared with a friend - it was pure brainrot over Revue Starlight and it made me put all my cunt into it. this was also the point at which i started filling in blacks with the bucket tool instead of picking a very dark color, which is a big part of my current style :3

the thing about people cancelling me is that i had to distance myself from fandoms and eventually change accunts, which also affected how i perceived my own art. even if i draw for myself, at the end of the day i still draw characters that are loved by many people, so i disabled comments and stopped interacting with other artists of my fandom circles. that led me to go on hiatus at the start of 2023, knowing that it was time for a fresh start (my art accounts were 5 years old anyway).

that period of time made me think a lot about my finished pieces. since i wouldn't post them until i had a new account, i would stare at them for longer than ever or make small changes even if days had already passed. letting my mind rest from illustrations i had been working on and knowing i could change them whenever i wanted was a big step forward.

i realised that for the past years i had been in a hurry to post my drawings as soon as i was done with them instead of appreciating them. that was a turning point for my mindset. this was also past the time i decided to stop making ugly art, but i hadn't really taken any measures to get better. so i changed the wording of the challenge: i can make ugly art but i can't post it if i don't like it.

it doesn't sound epic, but for some reason it worked. every time i was in the middle of making a drawing that looked kind of ugly, i changed it until it looked right. not perfect, but good enough to avoid cringing in the future. some times i had to redraw it from scratch with a more interesting pose. some times i needed to add a background or a graphic element to make the characters pop. and somewhere on that period, i went wild with colors and effects, and a lot of times that saved a piece that would otherwise be boring.

i have to thank Revolutionary Girl Utena and Revue Starlight for making me experiment a lot during my hiatus. both pieces of media, one being the daugher of the other, give artists so many visual metaphors and interesting topics to work with. the revstar brainrot had been there since the junnana comic, but rgu was something i had been meaning to rewatch for a couple of years and it hit me like a fucking train. it also made me create one of the comics i'm the most proud about:

then i got into homestuck and my art got. well. stuck!! >D< but it was okay because i wasn't making ugly drawings anymore. i was putting into practise a lot of things i had been learning or experimenting with, especially regarding colors and character interactions. and the yuri was delicious hmmmmmmm.

the rest of 2023 was very linear in terms of art but not so much in terms of fandoms (?). which is fine, honestly, but i was also glad to get back into Fire Emblem: Three Houses in late that year because when i first got into it in 2019 i didn't have the skill to draw everything i wanted to draw. and i still haven't drawn all the yuri scenarios that i've been cooking in my mind, but i have until forever to do it!!

so for 2024 i want to study some stuff i feel i'm still lacking in. i think i've always had a good eye for composition, but i've never actually pushed it in my finished illustrations - they depend a lot on the poses because i've always been prioritising drawing over everything else. that needs to change this year.

i also want to get better at drawing characters from extreme angles. i've always felt like my poses are a bit flat and i think i can study photos taken with wide angle lenses to improve at that.

and of course i still want to draw faster, which is something i've always struggled with. i think i have a good rhythm of "producing" art (excuse me for the poor wording), but i'm still too slow for the kind of artstyle i want to achieve, which includes having a looser lineart and less details in irrelevant areas of the drawings. i think that overdoing the lineart actually hurts my illustrations, because everything ends up pulling the viewer's attention with the same energy. i also think messy artstyles are neat.

i promise i'm not crazy and i don't hate what i do. in fact, it's precisely because this year i managed to make some pieces with that kind of feel that i know where i want to aim. special mention to the junnana comic because i haven't been able to replicate that lineart ever since.

examples:

as for the stuff i like about my current artstyle, i definitely want to keep the way i color!! and by that i mean the method i have for applying filters that make my colors pop. i could maybe play more with textures too.

i also like the way i depict intimacy, and people have praised it too. thank you for noticing. it's the yearning that's doing it, not me. but i don't think i'll ever change the content (?) of my art, i eat breathe and speak in yuri. if anything, there are still some ways of conveying feelings that i haven't been able to draw because i lack the skill to do so, but i'll keep trying ;)

i honestly didn't expect this post to be this long. i've been writing for hours now and i'm not sure my thoughts are coherent for anyone that isn't me. i also can't grasp the idea that some people know me from fanart i did in 2016 while others started following me last month, time is wild and it's an extra dimension of complexity that i don't know how to account for when i write stuff like this.

but again, as i do with art, i've written this for myself. it's been nice to put my thoughts in order. i think i've only talked about art in depth with like 5 people and it's always been in casual conversation. no creo que estéis leyendo pero Nahia y Henar os amo y he aprendido mucho de vosotras.

thank you for reading until the end if you have. i hope you have not only a nice day but a nice year. let's meet again in the future.

[kkatastrophic]

RAMBLE TIME YAY!!!

Bro I genuinely give up on reasoning with my parents at this point, especially my mum. I don't need phone time, and we've had it for two years and it isn't working, you get mad at me every time I "break a rule" but it's just finding loopholes because I'm done with this shit. Like I don't want to talk about my phone usage at the moment, I don't care what limits you give me because at the end of the day if I use an app for more than 20 minutes a day you're putting on a limit. Just because I don't want to talk about it right now doesn't give you the right to put settings on all of my apps and lock my phone as soon as you're not happy with how I reply.

I don't care about it. I don't actually fucking care about the limits, I could not care less. I know I'll find loopholes anyway, like I always do. I have three different ways to get onto tumblr even if you block it on my phone, excluding my laptop. I can just use google and go on the web version of most apps, and if you block or time limit google I can just use the internet app to browser search for it. Block that too? I have the password.

My mum says that she's tired of "micro managing" me but she gives me no freedom, and any room to move that she gives me is overshadowed by "I don't trust you enough to let you do that".

It's so difficult trying to reason with parents, especially a TEACHER parent, who thinks that just because she's in the education industry, that she knows best and is automatically correct in any assumptions she makes.

I honestly hate it.

She locked my phone for no reason just now, because I didn't want to TALK about my phonetime while I was doing something else! I ask her to talk about loosening the restrictions and rules and she says "after this, after this, no I don't feel like it." but she's not giving me a chance to do the same?

And don't get me started on when she thinks I'm FAKING my WORRIES because of the INTERNET! I came to her super worried and upset because she's my mum, parents know everything they just have to always be there and usually they are. And I told her I was worried something was wrong with me, and she doesn't reassure me and say "no this is normal blah blah blah" she tells me I go through phases of reading something online and then "developing symptoms" and faking it.

Like I was 11 the last time I did something like that, and I regret it so much I actually cry every time I think about it, second-hand embarassment exists don't be stupid as a kid.

And like... then she follows up with "if you want to see a therapist we can book you in for one" ... now that you tell me you think I'm faking you want me to make you "waste money" on a therapist. You said my problems are non-existent and put me through this spiral of denial and confusion just to tell me "oh by the way, if they're not then we can see somebody about this issue! :D"

I don't WANT to anymore.

Like literally yesterday I waited for 30 minutes for food and was too scared to ask if they were preparing it. (AT A BBQ GUYS, A FRICKING BBQ!) LIKE I ALMOST CRIED WHILE ASKING?? And I'm legitimately the most extroverted person on the planet.

I've been taking mild stress medication every day before school, and I've been taking tablets to sleep every now and then. BECAUSE I BELIEVE SOMETHING MAY BE WRONG WITH ME!!! And if you can't support me when I THINK that, then how are you going to go if something really does happen?!

Idk bro maybe I'm overthinking all of this but I just can't anymore with this.

[den-ai-d]

Ooof...a decade on this site eh?

Oh no, story time incoming!

10 years and yeah, so much has happened already. Originally, I made this blog back when I was in high school as a place to post my drawings; back then, it was all just pencil drawings on paper. Looking at them now...well it was obvious I still had a long way ahead of me LOL. And to think some people assume that everyone skilled enough in art must have had some innate talent for it. CLEARLY, they don't know what they're talking about because I was terrible at it early on!

But I mean, I didn't really think that of my art, did I?

No. In fact, I'm pretty sure that kid me was very much impressed with his own works. See, that child had a very bloated ego and a high opinion of himself. You should ask his poor friends; I'm sure they'd agree that the bugger could take a few lessons on humility with how he'd be sharing all of his silly sketches to them and pontificating on and on about how nice he thinks they are. Yeah, I was an insufferable kid.

But I do think that overinflated ego of mine turned out beneficial for my growth as an artist because without it—without my love for my own art—I wouldn't have stuck to it.

And stuck to it I did.

Went to college soon after that and took a program majoring in biology. Not much of a surprising choice since I've always liked the sciences and figured it would later on give way to a stable career; funnily enough, while I was very passionate about making art, I never thought it would be a profitable source of income. But that didn't mean I'd stop doing it on my free time though! Actually, this was when I got myself my first tablet! And what better way to start my digital drawing experience than to buy a FUCKING EXPENSIVE cintiq!!! With the extra motivation coming from the monetary pressure of such a purchase, you bet your ass I used the hell out of that thing. I was so intent on making use of it that—would you look at that—I still use it to this day! (Wow, they really made those old wacom tablets to last, didn't they?)

Obviously, college work ended up taking a lot of my time so I couldn't really draw as much as I did a few years ago. There were even times when I could only make one painting throughout a whole month; a far cry to my previous output. But even so, I never wavered in thinking that making art—being an artist—was something that was part of my identity; it was something that I always will come back to, no matter how much busy I got contending with course work.

And speaking of which, fuck that! Got my first honest-to-goodness mental breakdown because of all the studying I was doing at one point. See, I'm the type of student that likes getting good grades because BIG NUMBERS so I made it a point to be studious. To the point of insanity, apparently.

Anyway, I got better eventually and it all turned out nice. Even snagged all the awards I could've gotten for my thesis by the end of it! Yes, I am bragging. I deserve it, thank you very much! (For anyone curious, it was a study about plant pigments and using them in solar cells).

After that debacle, I found myself whisked into Adulthood which meant I finally had to find a job. Guess I was lucky since I didn't really have much of a hard experience searching for one. Got accepted into a cosmetics company for a lab position. Hmm, in hindsight, I think they just wanted a fresh graduate who wouldn't demand a high salary and that was me so I got in pretty easily. And honestly, the work was AWESOME. My job ended up with me coming up with formulas for new products. I got to make lotions, shampoos, soaps (ugh, I hated that one), perfumes, toners, balms, scented candles, and—oddly enough that one time—glue! It was a wonderful experience for me since it blended my interest in science and art with how it required me to think of creative ways of applying technical solutions in order to make products that needed to look, feel, smell, and perform a certain way.

As a bonus, I even got to make stuff for myself! I was particularly fond of making creams with menthol. The soothing chill on the skin is just so nice!

It wasn't all good though. I mean the menthol was fine and dandy, I assure you, but even if I was enjoying myself with the work, it just so happens that it just wasn't giving me enough money to provide for the family. Also, there was that one time I splashed chili oil on my eye. A very eye-opening and spicy turn of events to be sure.

With the bills stressing the hell out of me, I then thought to myself: if only I had a marketable skill that I could use in my off time as a way of engaging with a hobby whilst earning money.

Yup, I started my singing career!

LOL no. I opened art commissions for the first time!

It was a very scary experience, mind you. I don't consider myself a social butterfly and the prospect of talking with other people in a transactional context was a big reason why I haven't even considered doing it all this time. Turns out being poor and running out of money outweighed such concerns. Also, my keeping up with art and posting them online all these years seemed to have payed off well; my twitter having then recently crossed over a thousand followers which meant I had a decent pool of potential clients!

And so I bumbled through my first few commissions trying to appear professional and all put together in front of my clients while consistently shitting myself on the inside. Just like all well-functioning adults!

It was October last year when I started. I figured that I wouldn't have much in way of commissioners—what with being new to the business—and that was fine since I didn't have much time to put on them anyways since I did still had to go to work on my day job. What mattered was that it gave me enough of a financial buffer so that I didn't have to worry too much about going under.

This continued to the turn of the year where I was able to juggle both my job and doing commission without much of a hassle. In fact, I noticed that people were actually really interested in getting commissions from me. So much that at one point...I actually made more money in a month than what I would've with my monthly salary! At that point, it was so over! Like, I originally was planning to at least observe how things went within this year and then decide after if I would just keep it as a side gig or go full-time with art. Turns out I was much more impulsive than I expected.

It was on a bright sunny February morning (no cinematic storm clouds in sight, unfortunately) that I decided on a lark to approach my boss at work and tell them that yup, no joke, I was gonna be leaving. I handed my resignation letter a few days later.

I would've liked to say that it was a tearful goodbye with my cherished co-workers whom I've spent the last five years of my life with but...COME ON, I barely talked with those people! Instead, it was a lukewarm farewell between people who just happened to work in proximity to each other. Eh, like I said, I wasn't much of a social butterfly and no one really made an effort to get to know me so oh well. MOVING ON!

Actually, I couldn't just up and leave because there are laws around these kinds of things so I worked there for another month but all that was a blur. Soon enough, I was officially unemployed!

So like I mentioned earlier, I full on did not expect doing art as something that would bring in much in way of income. My parents too thought the same. They said that yeah, art was a good hobby but as job? Let's be serious here! Well, turns out we were wrong all this time. With me fully dedicated to commission work, I was able to take on a larger volume of clients. Not as many as some of you go for (I'm looking at you, people who take ten or more commissions per batch, you monsters!) but enough that I was actually making a stable living! And yeah, WAY more than my now previous job. What an absolute shock to everyone involved; me most of all.

Now it's almost the end of the year, my plans having all but shattered into tiny pieces. Tiny pieces that scatter with the wind as I look back on the past ten years that has led me to where I am today. A lot of time has passed. I graduated high school, college, then got a job. Then graduated from that too. Certain people have come and gone. Some more permanent than others. I've lost friends and made new ones. Tumblr got fucked. Twitter got fucked. The world stopped for two years. For some, it's still stuck in those two years. I made glue in a lab. Almost lost an eye in a lab. I bought chips with my very own money for the first time. I loved people. Hated them too. Things have happened. Things have changed.

I certainly am very different from that kid who was having troubles fitting in with others from his class, what with being bullied and suffering through a particularly angsty teenage (oh my god I was CRINGE). A kid who often sought drawing as an escape to all of those terrible things out of his control.

I guess I'm happy I can still relate to that kid.

[capitaletele]

Baths!

I am obsessed with the idea of baths. (Like, I literally wrote my longest and most involved Starmania fic as a pretext to get Cristal and Johnny in a bathtub.)

But since there are NEVER ENOUGH BATHS, here's some more, in a form that's too disjointed to make it to AO3 for the moment:

I like the idea that there's no running water in the tunnels ("ça c'est la seule chose qu'on a pas") or at least, not enough to go around. In any case, the Zonards definitely don't have access to like, regular showers.

But there are public baths, and so the squad makes a trip after hours like three times a week to one of them for a shower, and sometimes when they have more time a full scrub and soak, and in the meantime they use something else at the hangar for their daily ablutions (or don't, Johnny is a dirty rat boy who probably juste dunks his head in freezing rain water in a bucket once a week and we like that about him.)

But when Cristal joins the gang, somehow she doesn't find out about the baths trips. Maybe Johnny is called away just after he brings her to the hangar, and he tells one of the Etoiles Noires, like "Hey, you get her settled around here, okay?" but the Etoiles Noires decide not to tell Cristal, sort of as a hazing thing -- they can't be thrilled about her arrival, it's their way to make sure she won't stay too long.

Or perhaps Sadia makes a point to keep it from Cristal, thinking it'll discourage her and she'll run off as soon as she's experienced the smallest inconvenience.

So anyway, the only thing Cristal sees in terms of hygiene is everyone chewing toothpaste tablets and splashing themselves with water from a rusty pipe once in a while and she figures, fine, alright, she knew they did things differently in the tunnels, she can tough it out. She doesn't really understand how they're not all *more gross* than they look, or how they can keep their hair as clean as it (mostly) is with the way she sees them deal with it, but she puts it down to experience, and anyway it's not like she can ask them why they don't all smell rank. (It's not like Johnny seems to mind that she's a bit funkier than she's used to these days.)

But it does wear on her anyway, never feeling clean, being self-conscious about how she looks and smells. After like 10 days or so, Johnny comes back from somewhere and finds her soaking wet, teeth chattering, lips blue, as she tries to wash herself with buckets and a trickle of water that's coming from a hose, and he's like, "Wow, you really hate the baths that much?"

And Cristal goes still, like, "Wait, BATHS??" and they figure the thing out.

Johnny noticed she never went with the others on their excursions but he figured she was just shy or uncomfortable being naked in front of relative strangers, or that she was too afraid someone would recognize her, or that her standards were too high and she thought it would be too gross there or something. (Which seemed strange to him because it's not like she's complained about any other aspect of her new life, but who knows... Sometimes people are weird about this kind of stuff. He has his own issues about the baths so he wasn't about to ask.)

So anyway, Johnny goes a little nuts when he finds out his Etoiles Noires did Cristal so dirty (lol, get it?) and summons them to get to the bottom of it. Everyone is very sorry because honestly, Cristal isn't nearly as bad as they thought she would be, but it got just a bit too awkward to bring it up now that they'd lied to her for a while... So anyway, they apologize, and Johnny commands the most remorseful of them to take Cristal to their usual baths once night falls and stand watch outside while she does her thing, to make extra sure no one else comes in or Sadia doesn't try to mess with her again. (He can't go because he's too busy doing... something else. This is why this story is not a real fic, lol.)

And so Cristal goes to the baths with Ruby the Etoile Noire who lends her her kit and shows her how to use the communal showers and then how to turn on the steam room and where the little pool is for afterwards, and Cristal is able to take an actual warm shower for the first time in like 10 days, and the water pressure isn't amazing, and calling the temperature "hot" would be pushing it -- this is still in the worst part of the tunnels, after all -- but it feels like HEAVEN. She washes her hair like three times in a row.

And then she goes into the steam room, and down into the tiny little pool thing that's just big enough for her to let herself float in, and she revels in the privacy and quiet of it -- it's the first time she's been truly alone since she went down into the tunnels on that fateful Friday afternoon. Her whole body goes lax. The only thing missing is...

And then, of course, Johnny shows up!

Maybe he's actually deathly afraid of water and that's why he never goes usually -- maybe he has some water-related trauma, maybe like, his mother drowned, or tried to drown him in an access of madness. Or maybe on the contrary his mother used to bring him to baths just like this one, and the memory is too painful now, idk. In any case, he never ever goes, but he wanted to make sure Cristal was okay, so he comes in to check on her.

And she convinces him to join her, which is not too hard probably because 1) NAKED and 2) ALONE. She brings him back to the showers and "helps" him "wash" until he's all clean and pink (and desperate) and then they make good use of every horizontal (and vertical) surface in the joint (and rinse everything real well afterwards, they're not savages) and then they hang out in the pool and get to touch lazily and cuddle and talk in half-whispers even though they've got more privacy than ever before.

Eventually though they have to get out because the baths are about to open to the public again and they have to get Cristal back to the hangar before she gets spotted, but after that they make a habit of it -- Cristal joins the Etoiles Noires every time they go in a group, and once a week she stays behind and Johnny joins her and they have a little date night.

(And of course because I'm me, I can't help but think about After, once they've run away somewhere together. Maybe they're in the East, and they've also got a huge public bathing culture, and once in a while at night Johnny picks the locks and they slip in and relive their wild hangar days.)

💧🚿 the end 🚿💧

[thal-ent]

The annoyance

(Kate is @yanasae 's character, a lot more from others are mentionned cw for unknowingly misgenring someone, internalized transphobia, unsafe binding mentionned for like a line, and because I can't stop myself there's background Basgil lol)

It's 2022, and the start of the year was comparable to hell on earth.

Virgil, quite honestly, didn't understand a thing about what happened. The people around him speak a language he doesn't understand, and even the... Help of a man who somehow spoke romanian didn't do much. He's been assigned classes to learn english and japanese, to be able to communicate with others in the school. Some speak romanian like him, but he doesn't approach them. He shouldnt even be here, hundred of thousands of kilometers away from his village, but the letters were very clear about the fact he didn't have a choice.

He tries to remember the faces of the people he'll have to share a year with. The small, angry boy with pinkish hair. The tall... Girl ? With a bag on her head. The guy that tries to avoid attention who he shares his room with. The girl with a fake leg and a cane, like the old hunters from his village, who tried to talk to him before leaving when he didn't respond. The boy with white hair who looks even more lost than Virgil. The girl all in pink that he already can't stand when she talks. Another boy with white hair, one he almost didn't notice until he saw how nobody could touch that boy. The chaotic brown haired girl that kept yelling and had to be stopped by a big guy with blonde hair, both covered in scars.

He didn't remember any of their names. Names weren't exactly his thing. Neither was learning theory, but he knew Marius would want to know, so he sits through words he barely recognize and a translator at the ready. He's not the only one who gets one, the girl with the bag and another with blonde and pink hair get ones as well.

There's also the weather. He refuses to take off the vest of the uniform they make them wear. He considers himself lucky to get pants, and not a skirt that would have been humiliating, but they dont do a lot to hide his silhouette. His coat is hung in the closet they gave them, but he's not allowed to wear it as long as it's still warm. But that's the problem, it's too warm. For the first time in his life, Virgil misses the fresh air of his village, the cold that lingers well into the spring. Here he only has the rain to help, always gone too fast.

He does wear something less covering sometimes. They let the students like him use the sports' equipment, the man with glasses and one blue eye who spoke romanian said but didn't elaborate on. There's always people here, and they stopped trying to talk to him after he stopped paying attention to them. Well, that's not true. He did speak with one of them, a very tall girl without hair. He didn't catch her name, but she pointed the cross on his chest and showed her own. They shared a few words in latin, despite her weird dialect. She didn't talk a lot, and went back to a weird girl with curly brown hair after, but Virgil liked that girl.

But he didn't have time to waste on that. The training was nice, when less people were here and he felt like he could drop the bandages on his chest. He hated their surprised gaze, but ultimately his fell on someone else. He was still a hunter, the "Ultimate vampire hunter" if you believed what that letter said. And he started to suspect a vampire was in the school, hidden in plain sight. A red head, green eyes constantly hidden by glasses. Virgil doesn't know his name, only that he's apparently from the year before him. He's tall, skinny and almost... Pathetic. But something is weird with this boy.

He's been following him, when the annoyance first made herself known.

She was a girl from his class, one of the shorter names. She has ginger and pink hair, but not a pink like the one of the girl with the tablet. A flashier one, and longer hair tied in a way Virgil knows is to avoid it being caught while moving. She's way shorter than him, tries to not look like the kid she obviously is.

She starts speaking, but he doesn't understand. He thinks he recognizes a word or two, but when he tries to walk past her and follow his prey, she puts herself on his path, stopping him. He tries to go to her other side, but she follows, making him loose the boy he was looking at. She pulls out her phone and types on it before showing the screen to him.

"Fight me" is written in romanian, next to what he guesses is probably french or english. He only looks more confused, so she types again. "I want to fight you, I want to know what a "vampire hunter" fights like"

He groans, really not wanting to. She's barely 16, obviously just trying to get a rise out of him. But what does he has to loose ? His prey is far by now, and he knows the look of someone who refuses "no" as an awnser, he was one like her once.

So he follows her, gets the sword she gives him. It's lighter than he's used to, less deadly as well, but he guess that's the point. They're not here to kill each other, they're here to spar. But he was told to always give his all, even against the kids that barely started training. Her stance is firm, she knows what she's doing.

They trade large swipes for a moment, test the waters. He's not used to the weapon, and knows he's less agile than he would, feels the bandages on his chest limit his hair intake. But it's all details, when she looks at him with the determination of someone who has a thing to prouve. She's weird.

It doesn't take very long until he's able to push her and puts his sword on her throat, pinning her hands under his knees. She grimaces, but lets her head fall to the ground with a thud. He goes back up, keeps his eye on her. The crowd that formed around them starts to clap, as if given a good spectacle. She gets back up and goes to her phone, showing it in his face once again.

"why did I loose ?" He makes a face, one he knows she can't read. So she puts the phone in his hand, and he starts to write slowly.

"you dont try to kill." And she doesn't respond, which Virgil takes as a promise to let him get away.

He hopes she wont bother him again.

**

Of course she kept bothering him.

One loss wasn't enough for Kate, no. She kept pestering Virgil, calling his name and yelling for his attention, even when he was trying to be calm.

It's 2023 now, a full year passed and he's still in this school. He speaks relatively good english now, so they left the phone on the side. Hers is miles better than his, but she corrects his mistakes when they happen, free of jugement. He started to get closer to some people in his class, his dormmate and Mika, notably. He also stopped treating the boy from the year before him like a prey. Turns out, Bastien is way nicer when you speak to him.

Kate tho ? She's unsufferable in a very weird way. She gave him a gift for his birthday, and he still doesn't know how she learned the date it was on. But now, he traded bandages for a binder, and his ribs feel better than they had in years. They still spared a lot, Kate an eternal looser.

She's weird, he thinks. She looks dejected everytime, but keeps coming back for more, especially when he's with someone. She doesn't ask for tips, learns on her own and sees how he steadies himself, how he holds his weapon. She just doesn't get she doesn't have to only use that, for fighting.

She's a self imposed loner, and he can respect that. So he never mentions how she always come find him when they're eating. Once she asked how he got his scars on his eye, and was genuinely surprised when he told her vampires are indeed real, and that he killed more of them than he knew actual humans.

He's surprised when Emerens doesn't joke about him liking Kate or the opposite, but he appreciate it, his relationship to the girl everything but romantic. Instead, the man whines about his own partners while teaching Virgil english when Mika isn't available, and Virgil shuts his mouth by teaching him latin.

He started running with the tall girl who spoke latin, Tomyris. She's nice, they understand each other despite their diverging faiths. He often ends up holding their running partner Subaru on his back for the latter parts of the way, and they always talk. It's nice.

He misses Marius and his parents, but he finds himself not missing his village as much.

**

It's 2024, and he knows that if she could, Kate would have pushed him into one of the hall's walls by now.

They're friends now, he thinks. She's still annoying in her own way, learned to bite her way through their fights, and that's how they ended up here. Her eyes are full of something akin to fury, making their gray look black. He knows why she's angry, she's the second person to notice it, in Hope's Peak. Or at least to mention it to him. He doesn't wear the jacket anymore, but still wears the long sleeved shirt of the uniform, white on white.

She tried to bite his arm but only found solid, cold silicone instead of the meat of flesh and blood.

"What the fuck happened."

"I'm a hunter, Kate, it comes with risks." he said the same to Bastien, to his shocked horror. He told him it was a necessary sacrifice and he'll say the same to Kate.

"You lost your fucking arm ! That's not a fucking "risk" !" he knows she wants to say other swears than "fucking", but she speaks in english out of respect for him and her vocabulary is limited in that language.

"But i'm alive, so it was a good one."

She looks at him with wild eyes, and he doesn't know if she's about to punch his face or headbutt it. He braces himself for it anyway, but she just lets go of his shirt.

"That better be the last of your "sacrifices". That's..." her voice trembles, and he puts his flesh hand on her head, pats it in a weird show of affection they never shared.

"I'll try." he said the same to Marius, when he woke up. She's not his brother, nor his sister, but he doesn't like seeing her annoyed by something that is not a petty lost game.

[theknightlywolfe]

Spoilery rambling thoughts on The Marvels under the cut

I am so happy we're getting Maria Rambeau content, even if it is mostly alt reality Maria. It would be interesting to see X-Men pulled into main Marvel by America going over to bring Monica back to her home universe. Which means does SABER know about America? They're well informed but she ended up with the wizards. I'm sure there's a file after the attack in New York in MoM but then to the rest of the world she would have disappeared. Or is that going to be the plot of Young Avengers 1, Kamala meeting a trained America and then going to get Monica back?

I know why Kamala goes to Kate (is that a new apartment Ms. Bishop? Smart) but while Kate no doubt knows there is a saviour of Jersey City, not that it is Kamala. Where was the power demonstration and how long does Kamala think she can run things with 1) Kate's penchant for ignoring orders and 2) the fact that she is a high school kid. Again, child soldiers much? And really at some point Kamala is going to blab about how she snuck the tablet in the chaos of the initial fight in her house. And while Kate would respect the guile it also would reveal that Kamala doesn't have the safety net/backing she implies.

Goose! Mama Goose! Do flerkens reproduce asexually or is there a male flerken she hooked up with while catching a ride on Carol's shoulder? Where are the babies? I can't imagine Goose being happy with being separated from them for long so quickly, but they are a menace in quantity and no way the crew will accept them on the SABER platform. Are they in Louisiana with Carol on the farm? Did they warn the neighbors?

Did they touch up Hailee's face to make it more angular? I had to do a double take when they showed her face because it looked off. Not oh she is losing the baby fat off, but like cgi off. I know I mentioned before that I hate her uniform because it is zero protection but I hate Kate's uniform because she might as well wear a t-shirt.

I thought Dar Benn was a good character. Completely wrong casting, but a good character. I just couldn't take the actress seriously and half the times the camera cut to her it just threw me out of the movie. Not that she is bad actress, honestly she didn't do much acting in the role and was emotionally written very one note so its not like she could show any range. But she tried to be menacing and it was laughable. And she had no presence, she was just there saying lines and swinging a reused prop. Maybe if Ronan hadn't been the only person with one of those battle hammers maybe I would accept it as a "universal weapon". If it is meant to convey rank, why did Ronan have it before the fall of Hala when he was taking orders from Yon Rogg?

Secret Invasion makes both more and less sense if this was supposed to be before it. It makes more sense for the Skrull presence on Earth but less sense for Fury's arc. It makes more sense if it is after for Fury's arc and it explains why Carol had to call King Valkyrie to get the Skrull survivors instead of Fury and why the Skrulls manning SABER in Spiderman FFH are now gone but also, why would anyone trust Fury after the very public fuck up in SI in the square and his very literal going rogue for the whole of it? Why do Carol and Monica never bring up him getting Talos killed? Or anyone warning Carol about the very real political shit storm relating to Skrulls on Earth? Why did they even bother making Secret Invasion if it so clearly doesn't fit in to their own storyline?

And really, how funny would it have been if they hadn't done SI with all its bullshit and at the end of the Kate scene Maria Hill walks in and is like "gimme that tablet back" and Kate and Kamala both go full fangirl.

Speaking of fangirls, I did like the nod of Monica acknowledging she not only knows Kamala write fanfic about her Aunty Carol but also that she had read some of it.

[twelvemonkeyswere]

Last night, a news outlet was calling some narcotraffic crimes "terrorism." I asked my grandma why they were using that word. What was what they were doing terrorism for. Turns out they were attacking each other, in plain street, which is not with the objective of terrorizing "civilians" but to fight among gangs. And they were stopping cars at gunpoint and asking them to hand over money for right of passage, which is awful, but also daylight robbery, not an act of terrorism. There was no real ideology motivating the attacks, only money. I said to my grandma, "it sounds irresponsible to call this terrorism."

Of course, one of the current members of the government immediately was on the news like "we need more money for police, we need to fund more police". And shortly after there was a a segment that posed the question whether a hitman job against a Nicaraguan activist that happened recently in our country could be the fault of Nicaraguan organized crime. The ex minister of security was on screen saying no, it's more likely whoever organized the murder used Costa Ricans, but my grandma, who was only half listening and half playing with her tablet, said around, pensively "Nicaraguans fight so much, maybe..."

I tried to explain to her, how this right wing modeling works. How they build up the idea that now, suddenly, the enemy is so tangible all of our problems could be solved with more police arresting the problems. How they keep mentioning the debt our social security system has is impossible to maintain because the current government wants to privatize healthcare ("privatizing is bad?" she asked, honestly). I told her they'll always try to lie to her to convince her. "They'll tell you that they're trying to get things back to the way they were before," I said. "But things can never go back to the way they were before. It's impossible." She made a very pained face. I told her "things CAN get better. But they can never go back. Don't trust the lie of nostalgia."

She doesn't like it when I speak that way. She didn't like that I pointed out that theyll always blame immigrants for the problem ( "they'll always say it's the Nicaraguans or the Venezuelans or whoever," I said. "they only ever talk about the criminal Nicaraguans. When someone is achieving good things, they never mention the person is Nicaraguan.") just as the USA blames their immigrants. I told her to be smart. To be suspicious. If they say something, ask herself why they are saying it. I asked her to think, among the people who wronged her, among the people who wronged her family, who among them had ever been anything but Costa Rican. And yet she never believed Costa Ricans were a social problem.

I could see her thinking, I could see her trying to understand, trying to process, trying to find a way to refute. I could see that the propaganda of many years, her whole life, had cut deep. And I could see how the news worked in her so easily. Because that night she had greeted me saying "did you see, Wen, that we now have terrorists in Costa Rica?"

I really fucking hate the way buzzwords are used. The way they generate outrage by misuse. I can only hope this ends with this fucking government. I hope people fucking learn.

[chasesvillainera]

The Great Sebchase Rewrite: Under Seige

Will I actually finish this who knows? But this idea has consumed me

Also there’s no way I’m writing these in order, but lmk if there’s a specific episode you’re hoping to see

Sebastian was honestly impressed with himself, for how quickly he had ruined his own life. If that was a bionic ability, he’d be top of the class.

A few flashes of memories, and he turned on his new life for some “creator” he couldn’t even remember? He couldn’t explain it himself.

Chase had saved him. Again. Showed him what Krane really was, why they had to take him out.

But not before he blew up the Hydroloop tunnel, and loudly declared to the academy that he was rebelling. Davenport and the others gave him another chance, but the damage was done. He went from the top student, dating one of the original bionics, and beloved by the mentors, to the traitor. People whispered when he walked by, no one trusted him to be alone in secured areas anymore, and worst of all, Chase was disappointed in him.

After the attempted rebellion, once they saved Davenport and Perry from the Hydroloop, all he wanted to do was thank Chase for stopping him before he went too far. For saving his life again.

But Chase just looked at him, face stony and hard with disdain that surpassed even their first weeks at the Academy, when they had “hated each other”. (Sebastian preferred to think of it as unique flirting, but the point stood).

“I don’t want to see you right now.” Chase had said, before storming back to the mentor’s quarters.

Sebastian was left alone with Adam, Bree, and Leo, all glaring at him like he was the dirt from their shoes. He shuffled back to the dorms to await Mr. Davenport’s punishment.

It wasn’t so bad, considering the attempted murder, but he was miserable.

He stayed in the dorms for a week, too embarrassed to face the world. Hoping every sound was Chase finally coming to see him, if only to tell him off and dump him officially.

Eventually, he came.

“Hi,” Sebastian jumped up from where he’d been sitting, “you came! Thank you!”

Chase raised his hand to stop him. “Don’t be nervous. I just want to talk.”

“Right. Of course.” Sebastian’s heart sank. He was expecting this, but it didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. “I should start with apologizing, again. I…can’t explain how I reacted to what you told me. I panicked, and I did something unforgivable.”

“I do understand, you know. I’ve done my fair share of stupid things in emotional situations. Remind me to tell you about the Avalanche. But I have to protect my family, first.”

“I get that. It’s…what I thought I was doing, avenging my father. Probably shouldn’t have relied on Triton app memories to make that decision.”

And then, a miracle happened. Chase actually laughed. He’d missed that laugh so much.

“Do the others know you’re here?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes. Adam said something about second chances, Leo just sighed, and Bree went on a rant about my horrible taste in men. I don’t think I’ve heard Douglas say ‘that’s a bad idea’ so many times in a row since Adam got into the lab.”

“Ah,” Seb sighed. That was fair. He was hoping Chase would get on with it, break up with him already instead of dragging it out.

But then…he didn’t. He fucking forgave him, because Sebastian had fallen in love with the most perfect man ever.

Everyone else distrusting him didn’t matter as much, when he had Chase.

—-

It had been about a month since then, and things had returned to…a state of normal.

Adam no longer looked at him like he wanted to kill him, at least.

All Sebastian could do now was work hard, keep his head down, and try to atone.

And it wasn’t like there was no good in his life.

“Hey,” he swung an arm around Chase after training had ended, “what’s up?”

He didn’t think he’d stop hanging on Chase like a koala any time soon. Sue him.

“Someone broke into our room last night. Smashed up Leo’s tablet.”

“Was it Perry’s niece? Did you catch her?”

“No,” Chase sighed, “we thought that too, but then the criminal disabled the security cameras and attacked Perry. I’m thinking someone’s looking for classified information.”

Sebastian frowned, trying to think of any of the students had been acting oddly. His usual suspect would be Perry, but she had been targeted.

“Guys,” Leo called, “can you break up the lovefest and get over here? Something happened with the Hydroloop.”

It turned out someone had fried the control panels, trapping them on the island.

“Wait,” Chase stepped forward, “these burn marks are from bionics.”

Shit.

If someone bionic had done this, Seb knew there would be only one suspect. The glances he was getting from the assembled mentors confirmed it.

He wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t do it” felt so hollow and untrustworthy.

“There’s still a rebel living among us.” Chase declared.

“How could there still be a rebel here?” Bree asked, shocked.

Leo did an exaggerated gesture in Sebastian’s direction.

“Maybe because we let Chase convince us to let the rebel stay here?”

“Leo!” Chase jumped in. “We can’t start placing blame. For now, everyone’s a suspect.”

“But shouldn’t more of the suspicion fall on the person who rebelled before? Like just a month ago?” Bree sighed.

Sebastian hated that he couldn’t argue with her logic.

——

“I didn’t do it.” he said to Chase when they were alone, Chase laying against him on the couch.

“I believe you.”

He could tell by the ease with which he said it that Chase was telling the truth, and he was filled with happiness that this time, the trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Thank you.”

“I’m just not sure the others will. We’re going on a stakeout tonight, even though they think it’s pointless when a suspect is right under our noses. I don’t know how to convince them.”

“I don’t think you can,” Seb said, resigned. “Wouldn’t you have the same reaction, in their position? The only thing that would help is catching the guy. What about I stay here, until we find him, so I always have an alibi?”

Sometimes that super intelligence came in handy. Or maybe it was those cheesy crime shows he and Chase liked to watch and make fun of.

“Actually, I was thinking the opposite. Join me on stakeout tonight. If you’re with us the whole time, there’s no way they can suspect you.”

————————

Bree and Douglas both made their displeasure with Chase bringing Sebastian along very clear.

Seb tried to give a look that conveyed “I didn’t think this was a good idea either, I promise!”

“There’s no way I’m leaving him alone with Chase,” Bree decided, “If you’re staying, go patrol the weapons room with Adam.”

Sebastian acquiesced easily. Someone to vouch for him who wasn’t his boyfriend might not be the worst thing.

Adam looking at him like he wanted to kill him while surrounded by weapons…was less fun. Sebastian didn’t see Adam’s penetrating gaze leave him for hours. He did everything but say “I don’t trust you.”

Until of course, being Adam, he did say it.

“I know,” Sebastian said, “you have every reason not to. But I promise the whole…rebellion thing isn’t going to happen again. I love your brother.” He hadn’t gotten to say that to Chase himself yet, but anything to convince Adam.

Adam didn’t have a chance to respond before Chase came over the comm-set.

“How’s the weapons room, Adam?”

“All clear in the boom-boom room.”

“What about the training area, Leo?” Chase asked, receiving no response. “Leo? LEO? Guys, he’s not responding, come quick!”

Adam shot another glare at Sebastian, as if he could have attacked Leo from right there, and the two took off running.

Leo wasn’t in the training area, and just as they were fearing the worst, the island rocked with a massive explosion.

Someone had tried to blow up the whole academy by setting the weapons on fire. If Adam hadn’t put them out, they would have.

Sebastian knew the explosion happening in the area he was patrolling didn’t deflect suspicion from him like he would have wanted.

Once Douglas was taken out, Chase declared the academy under attack. Like he’d done once before.

Sebastian didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Leo Dooley stumbling out of the training area, laser spheres shooting from his hands.

It wasn’t even a rebellion. Just a glitch.

—————

Douglas set Leo up with a capsule so it wouldn’t happen again, and all seemed to be solved.

Chase bounced up to him the next morning, trademark “I was right” smirk on his face, and kissed him in front of everyone present.

“Thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for not making me regret it. I got to make Adam apologize to me today, it was awesome.”

[littlemissidontcare]

Why do you care if bestofwallis posts screenshots with username visible? They said it, didn't they? Off anon, didn't they? What should it matter if the screenshots are posted? Did they not mean it? Did they not want people to know what they thought? Why say it then? Who exactly are you worried about being exposed to?

Apologies for this long rant mod!

The same could be asked to you why do you care that people are talking about a fan account acting high and mighty acting like they are some super hero on the internet? This is honestly pathetic. This is so childish. And before I get someone saying I’m condoning hate I am not while yes Annabelle gets some hate and I do say some because I’ve been in her comments and I’ve seen the stuff both sides say and I can tell you which one needs a time out from the internet. You don’t want comments you don’t like on a fan page for a celebrity? Then private it because if it’s public you’re gonna get all kinds of comments and ‘exposing’ does nothing. Do you think regular people give a damn about this ‘fan war’ stuff? No they don’t. So tell me what’s exposing going to do? Nothing but have shippers rush to peoples accounts and up the insults. No im not saying hate is right but shippers have zero room to talk. Doesn’t matter if the come on anon or not coming and bullying people,sex work shaming, doxing a celebrity and trying to dox other fans and saying fans who do not like a celebrities boyfriend/girlfriend or said celebrity should go die is disgusting and it negates the ‘defending’. It’s one thing to defend and call behavior out. But it’s another to throw stones hide your hands and act like you’re not being hypocritical if you want any proof of what I’m saying this blog has tons of anons on here telling this lovely mod all kinds of vile things about herself and has harassed her. Talked about her child. But lines are crossed over someone talking about obvious plastic surgery? And editing a post that I saw and the way it’s being made out like this person edited that story and something incredibly disgusting and it was just mocking the original post. The things one side is mad at for doing the other isn’t innocent either. Fan accounts editing Annabelle out of photos or not posting her are not haters or jealous of her. They have every right to post what they want on their accounts. They don’t like her? They don’t have to post her. They are seb fans. Not seb and Annabelle fans. And that’s the problem one side wants to be include her in everything. They aren’t married. She isn’t pregnant. They aren’t engaged. You like her? Cool then be normal about it. Don’t go to pages/blogs to start drama because you don’t like their opinion and then send hate when you can’t argue back. Don’t stalk other fans and try and dox them don’t dox a celebrity to try and prove a stupid point. If this stuff is getting to any of you too much. Honestly put the phone/laptop/tablet down and go outside. Go hang out with a friend. Listen to music watch a movie. You do not have engage with stuff you do not like I don’t how this isn’t an easy concept a block button is there for a reason. Use it. Love you all and no I do not hate anyone. I hope this fandom one day can start acting like a fandom again because this ain’t it. Again I’m sorry for the long rant mod I hope you have a good day sending love 🫶🏻

[urmomsmainbitch]

rodrick dating an artist

requested: yes / no

warnings: school, mentions of eating

pronouns: she/they (i did my best)

a/n: omg i’m so un creative but i feel like i’ve been starving you all so here consume my garbage

rodrick hated art class with with such a passion until he met you

he had an extra class and the guidance counselor was like, ‘okay, fuck it,’ and put him in an art class

and then he was seated next to you and he knew in a whole second and a half that he wanted to marry you

it didn’t take him long to ask you out

‘hey, y/n, i need a little bit of help with my drawing, do you think you could come over later, and maybe we would get a pizza while we draw, or something?’

‘yeah, sure, just text me your address!’

the only thought he could think about for the rest of the day was the movie he was going to put on for you and how he wanted to snuggle up to you while you helped him with his art

and you came to his house

tablet and apple pen and drawing bag in arm

and he knew you meant business

only a few times after going over, you agreed to be his partner (because who wouldn’t)

and honestly it was amazing

susan could tell that something was up w my boy roddy about two weeks into making things official

he was going to bed earlier and waking up at a normal time, eating more, grades were higher, and was just generally in a much better mood

and he didn’t smell anymore

very suspicious

she cornered him when he got home from school one day

‘you’re in a good mood, rodrick!’

‘thanks, mom’

‘is there anyone that’s making you happier?’

oh susan

always straight to the point huh

she forced jt out of him

the dinner w you and his parents was actually pretty fun — susan loved the idea of rodrick getting more into the arts and was now talking about starting a sketchbook

she loves you

anyways

you always come over to do his homework with him and then you’ll usually listen to music and paint while he wraps things up or tries to draw with you

he likes being close to you, not necessarily drawing or painting

it just makes him feel more connected with you

paint on all his shirts!

messy hair and smeared oils on his face from putting your hands on his face when you kiss

going to galleries

(he was very excited to go to your debut)

and in conclusion rodrick would be a very supportive boyfriend of an artist and his favorite thing in the whole world is to go to starbucks and watch you draw

j love him

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”