#I always love having an excuse to draw characters with facial hair so thank you anon

[jovialoddity]

So wait . . . Human Puzzles had some facial hair?! Why did he remove it ! What would he look like with it , now that his gray and no longer dyeing his hair? (And your art style is freaking awesome, no words can describe how freaking good your art and art style is!)

OOOH good question!! To be honest, he usually just goes in phases of either growing out his facial hair or going clean-shaven. It’s all just a matter of what he’s feeling at the moment, and for the PuzzleVision/Puzzle Park arcs in the story, he’s feeling like having a clean face (although I’m probably gonna grow his beard out a bit for his post-WOTFI/asylum look >:) )

As for how he would look with his old style of facial hair now…

I think he still rocks it!

Plus some bonus designs I can imagine he’s tried out:

(He learnt pretty quickly that he doesn’t like having a full beard… he thinks it makes him look too much like his father)

[vveakfish]

do you have any thoughts about the core four whose gender(s) are basically just a trans fruit cocktail that you would like to talk about? because I would love to listen

oh boy DO I !!!

I have So Many thoughts about them Anon, so thank you for giving me an excuse to try and put it into words beyond “Damn, these bitches trans! Good for them.”

Honestly, there are so many different ways to explore these characters genders based on how you choose to interpret their life experiences, and their aesthetic changes, and their relationships with each other. I am of the belief that any of them could be trans in any direction

But, that said, I Do have particular gender headcanons for YJ that i am very fond of, so thats what I’ll be talking about today.

(Small disclaimer. I have not finished all of the comics referenced in this. I am using the information i have to inform these, but you know, i might come back to this post at some point in the future and look at it like “wow, i don’t agree with any of this anymore.” And i think thats okay.

I’m just here to have fun, and i thoroughly enjoy these little guys, and think abt them alot, so enjoy

(also if you dont want to read 4.1k words of blorbo gender analysis, or would like to avoid spoilers for Superboy (1993), Young Justice (1998) & (2019), and Red Robin (2009) in varying degrees of detail, or you just want to see what lables i assigned them, scroll down to the bottom <3))

lets get started.

Bart:

Bart's gender is the most complex, but his thought process about it is also the most simple. I think his view of gender would be very much influenced by the fact that he grew up in VR in the future like…

A body is just an avatar, do what ever the fuck you want with it.

That said, the lil guy has always given me transmasc vibes. These vibes, however, are by no means binary.

He understands that in the 21st century a lot of people do not have his sort of “throw things at the wall and see what sticks” approach to gender, so he’s okay with being put in the box of Boy™. But his gender is a lot more * hand waves vaguely *

Clothes don’t have gender in his eyes, they’re fabric you put on your body. Wear what ever you want forever!

Bart in skirts is something i have seen many people draw/talk about before, and its something i agree with wholeheartedly. He likes hair clips, and like, those loud (actually loud and visually loud) beaded bracelet type things that ravers wear. He like nail polish. He doesn’t grow facial hair, but he wouldn’t care if he did. He’s not on hormones, but he definitely considered it for the bit. “Gotta drink my boy juice” Kind of vibes.

For him gender has Nothing to do with performance, its all about comfort. About wearing what feels right, regardless of whether or not he’s adhering to expectations of masculinity.

Yes, he Will wear that god awful outfit out of the house, haters can die mad

Cassie:

Anon, I need you to understand how much i love early yj98 cass. She is everything to me — her process of coming to terms with herself, and being able to watch her start to feel at home in her own skin. It makes me absolutely feral.

lets see if i can explain why… succinctly

When we first meet her in yj98, her identity as “Wonder Girl” is this sort of amalgamation of What it Means To Be A Hero in her eyes. She has her party city blunt bob wig (Because Diana is who she looks up to), the gloves, leather jacket, goggles combo (that so clearly take inspiration from Kon).

At this point in her life Wonder Girl is not really her. Its very clearly a mask she’s putting on. which is what makes it the perfect avenue for her to explore gender expression without it having to actually be about her gender.

I think the part that specifically makes me feral though is her… we’ll call it admiration of Kon.

The girl is a self proclaimed Superboy stan + theres all the weird not-drama between Cassie and Cissie over wanting attention from Kon. (And i say Not Drama bc its like… Kon flirting with cissie (which like… have you met 90’s Kon?? he flirts with everything that moves) and Cassie being upset that he’s Not flirting with her. and cissie is just along for the ride. She’s not quite as much of a flirt as kon is, but she has her moments)

All of this to say i feel like its impossible to have a conversation about Cassie’s gender without also talking about her experiences with comphet and lesbianism.

At the beginning, Cassie sees Kon — this cocksure, conventionally attractive boy with powers that (at first glance) seem very similar to hers, and felt something about it. And, in the way of teen girls who have been told since grade school that they’re supposed to like boys, Cassie comes to the conclusion that what she feels for Kon must be romantic in nature, right?.

All of this, the jealousy over Kon and Cissie flirting, basing her costume off Superboy’s (intentionally or otherwise), the fact that she wont let her team see her without the wig and goggles at all for so much of yj98. To me it all reads as the tangled mix of undiscovered lesbianism and gender dysphoria that the poor girl simply doesn’t have the words to define yet.

So, then what IS cassie’s deal with gender???

i am so very glad you asked.

She, too, is a transmasc of the nonbinary variety.

I think her relationship to femininity is complex, and ever changing. She doesn’t feel comfortable performing femininity the way the world expects her to, but she is also part Amazon. And i think having a relationship with both Diana and Donna would greatly influence how she felt about femininity as a whole.

The Amazons are strong, their femininity isn’t about beauty, or being soft spoken — it isn’t about Men at all. On Themyscira, to be a Woman is about bravery, honor, skill, and in some ways, divinity. Getting closer with her Amazonian sisters would change her relationship to womanhood immensely.

But it still wouldn’t feel Right. She would be able to see that womanhood can be defined differently, but that wouldn’t change the connotations that womanhood had as she was growing up. She’d never be able to lean into it the way Diana or Donna do — they both grew up only having woman defined as strong and brave and confident. Their experiences are not analogous.

The baggage of growing up a girl under the patriarchy wouldn’t just… vanish because she sees that it Doesn’t have to be that way. In some ways, the knowledge that it didn’t have to be that way could make her dysphoria all that stronger (especially if she hasn’t quite deciphered that dysphoria is what she’s feeling).

but i think there would be a point where two things sharpen into focus for her.

fiirstly she has a big fat crush on cissie king-jones.

and second (which would only come AFTER realizing her feelings for cissie) is that what she feels for Kon is Not the same as what she feels for Ciss.

She didn’t want to be with Kon romantically, she just wanted his gender.

I could see her experimenting with wearing a binder, liking that she can get rid of her boobs if she isn’t feeling them that day.

She already has her short hair, and her leather jacket and jeans, and shes big and buff and strong (because she deserves to be butch!!! okay???).

I still think she would use she/her pronouns, but she wouldn’t be picky ab it (if she gets called sir while at the pizza place, she’s not going to correct them.)

But here’s the kicker — I think leaning hard into her masculinity would be EXACTLY what she needs in order to actually ENJOY expressing femininity again.

When putting on the mask that is ‘womanhood’ becomes something that she can Choose to do, rather than something that is being forced on her, it can be pleasant. Like playing dress up.

She has a new appreciation for it, especially since her friends respect her gender, and she knows at the end of the day, when she takes the makeup, the clothes, and the wig off, underneath it all she’s just her.

(Small addendum re: TT’03 Cassie’s fem phase. I have Many thoughts about this as well, and while they end up in roughly the same place, i exploring her experience with comphet and her decision to dress in a more traditionally feminine in that run is something id like to explore in another post (once i’ve actually read the run too.)

Cissie (bonus):

This one should be shorter than Cassies, mainly because my reasoning for it is much simpler.

YJ'98 (#11)

She lists all these names, all of them feminine except for Fucking Ralph. “One weird phase” she calls it.

To me, Cissie is a transgirl through and through. She has this huge list of femme names she tried on while she tried to find the one that fit best. She mentions ralph in this off handed way, as if its not important, and i think thats just her way of dismissing her deadname as something of little consequence.

(that said, i think there’s lots of fun to be had with transmasc cissie, or tried transing-her-gender and realized it wasn’t for her Cissie. But as a transfemme, tgirl cissie is So important to me <3)

Kon:

other people on here have made posts about Kon’s gender that are much more coherent than this will be, but i’m putting the words down anyway. bear with me.

Kon’s experience with identity (especially in his earlier years) is almost entirely about the external rather than the internal.

Kon has his whole life planned out for him from the moment he opens his eyes. It’s simple really — become Superman.

So you have this freshly hatched teenage boy, saving the world as Superman (not the Only one, but definitely the coolest one (Kon would argue)). All eyes on him, all the time. In some ways, performance is inseparable from who he is. From the very beginning, everything he does is on display.

He starts his life with a Name (Superman), a life path (…again, Superman), and all the confidence of a sixteen year old jock with nothing but wins under his belt. then it all gets taken away.

Turns out Clark ISNT dead, and the world doesn’t need its pint sized superman anymore now that its got the real thing.

enter Superboy

Kon’s entire identity, his whole purpose for being alive, was to step into the shoes of a dead man who is no longer dead. So where does that leave our genetically engineered test tube baby?

lost, and extremely confused.

But he’s good at using his charisma as a shield, and even better at keeping himself busy. His problems aren’t there if he doesn’t have the time to think about them, right?

and i think that’s true about his gender as well.

Similar to Cassie, his discovery and exploration of his gender feels incredibly tied to his sexuality (to me). If you’ve read sb93, you know Kon’s deal with women. He is cute & conventionally attractive & he's like superman with a fashion sense, so of course there are people fawning over him.

And he loves the attention. He likes that people want him, or that they are looking at him. The issue is he doesn’t have the life experience to realize that their reasons for paying attention to him are often very shallow, manipulative, or selfish.

He isn’t treated as a person very often. He’s a brand, a product, a tool, a weapon. He’s arm candy, he’s a photo op, he’s a headline, he’s a paycheck. And it takes him a long time to be able to tell the difference between someone Liking Him & someone Using Him.

For the longest Time, Superboy is all he is. He doesn’t have a name outside of that identity (except for the various pet names the women in his life give him (kid & pup, mainly)).

And even when Clark does give him his real name, Kon-El, its still Attatched to his identity as Superboy.

I dont think that he would really even be able to start dissecting how HE feels about his identity until he’s much older.

Part of this would come from the space to be someone else that gaining a civilian identity would give him. As Superboy, the goal has always been to stand out, to be seen, to shine like the sun.

As Conner Kent, he has to blend in. He doesnt want to draw attention to himself, or the Kents, or Clark. He has to fit in, which was never something he had to do as Kon. And i think it would kind of chafe at him — but he wouldn’t really know why.

I think he’d chalk it up to how different of an experience it is. Not being loud, having to be normal™. And so i think he’d just… continue to play the part. For a while anyway.

And like, part of being Normalest Boy Conner Kent would also involve actively un-queer coding himself for the sake of fitting into the ecosystem of Smallville High. and its like…

Young Justice, as a friend group, is SOOO queerplatonic. The lines between romantic and platonic intimacy are so blurred, and Prior to Kon’s YJ days he he was also like… living with these woman who he had complicated relationships with that also blurred the lines between platonic, romantic, and sexual (…looking at you, Knockout).

So learning where the line is when it comes to how he can acceptably interact with his civilian friends (particularly the boys) would Really open his eyes to just how close he is with Bart and Tim, and how similar his feelings for them are to his feelings for… lets say, Simon Valentine.

But i dont think That is what would actually tip the scale. I think realizing that these feelings for his friends aren’t considered ‘normal’ would make him shove them down deeper. As ‘Conner’ anyway.

from here it could go two ways, right?

Either we get Teen Titans ‘03 t-shirt Kon, who sheds his GNC 90s swag in exchange for adhering closer to traditional (read; boring) masculine gender roles.

or we get a Kon who leans Harder into his punk roots, but its a conscious choice now.

(this isn’t even digging into how he would feel once Jon comes into the picture, because while Kon cares for that boy Deeply, his feelings abt the new kiddo in the family could also be very complicated. But that’s a post for another time.)

Personally i prefer the second one.

Kon has always been a curious kid, i love the way he makes pop culture references, and how he bases his behavior off of 90’s teen tropes that he Most Definitely learned from TV. In his early days this wasn’t done in a research way necessarily, but he Did want to learn what it was like to Be a Teen™, and TV was the easiest way to figure that out.

(and, playing in the space of Kon adaptations, his love of media/pop culture, and just over all thirst for knowledge, are present both in the Reign of the Supermen Movie, and in his iteration during the n52 (which is one of the few things i personally have internalized from reading n52 Superboy/Teen Titans)).

But post gay awakening, i feel liked he’d be interested not just in behaviors, but also the context of them. Digging into punk as a subculture rather than as an aesthetic. Learning about its connections to queerness, and community, and self expression. And i think this would be extremely freeing for him. (especially if this were around the time of Jon becoming Superboy v.3, but again, not the point of this post.)

this all culminates in Kon being like yk? gender just… isnt for me. Like, it takes im a long time to get to this point, but realizing that the path that was set out for him is just one of the potential paths he can take, and while he might not know where this new path will take him, its his, that that matters.

And also like, Because his friends are who they are, he’s seen different versions of queerness, and transness, but i think it would take him a bit to see himself as someone who Isn’t Cis bc like… he doesnt have dysphoria in the traditional sense.

He’s still the beefcake he’s always been, but i think he’d start playing with makeup when he realizes it makes him feel good (he shows up the the cave one day with smudgy eye liner and Cissie is immediately like a) you look so good and b) can i Please do your makeup? (and then she does it, and he looks so pretty, and he gets these weird giddy feelings that he doesn’t realize is gender euphoria until his friends start talking abt gender euphoria)

His uniform starts to get more personalized too, like the designs where he has knee patches, and all his little belts, and stuff. maybe he starts experimenting with showing skin. bc he deserves it

(’its for maximum sun exposure!!!’ is the what he tells clark… he’s not sure if clark bought it or not)

And hey, exploring gender presentation more as Superboy might help him do the same as Conner. Cassie will take him thrifting, he’ll try of a flowy skirt or a sun dress or something and then its Over. Gender euphoria part two, electric boogagloo.

In the end, its about realizing that adhering gender roles (and truthfully, any socially imposed ‘rule’ about self expression) is something he can simply Choose not to do. And i think this freedom would be something that benefits him in his civilian life as well.

His gender is: literally what ever, man.

Tim:

Ok, here’s the thing about Tim and gender, right? I think he’s kind of just comfortable as he is. He’s good at playing the roles he needs to in what ever situation hes thrown into. ‘Robin’ and ‘Tim Drake’ (and even ‘Tim Drake-Wayne’ if you want to split hairs) might be masks he wears, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less him. if that makes sense. like…

Lets look at the differences between Bruce (or Brucie) and Batman for a second. They really are different people. Batman is who bruce is at his core, ‘bruce’ is this sort of liminal space between the cowl and his public persona, and then theres Brucie™, and well, you know how he is. These are personas that Bruce puts on.

With Tim its like he just highlights different aspects of himself when a situation requires it. (oh no, the autistic!Tim head canons are being loud today.) But like, he’s Always been masking. And i think this is something he would look at as like… getting a good grade in adapting. or something. He’s comfortable, all the roles he plays are ones he’s familiar with, and he doesn’t really question who he is outside of who he needs to be.

That is, until Caroline Hill makes an appearance.

I feel that the decision to go undercover as a woman was a wholly practical decision in the moment. It’s what the mission required, and therefore tim stepped up. Its just another mask, right? Surely this wont awaken anything in him…right?

But this is an entirely new mask. And i think it might like… shift the way he looks at/thinks about the other masks he puts on. He was able to step into a role that was very foreign to him, and it Worked. (and he felt pretty, which like… woah, thats a new feeling. and he kinda liked it? file that under ‘thoughts he doesn’t have the bandwidth to process right now.’ Bruce needs him back at the cave! its time to debreif! and he has a biology test tmrw! no time for gender scaries!!!).

I think it would take a while for him to be able to admit it to himself though. Because like… hes Not uncomfortable with his body, but he also keeps thinking about how good he felt dressed up femininely, and how he felt powerful, in a way. That putting on that mask felt just as good as putting on his domino.

Personally, i think itd be funny if instead of coming out right away, Tim doing undercover missions essentially in drag becomes a recurring thing. And i imagine some people give him a hard time. (not in a transphobic way or anything, i just mean like, teasing him fondly or what ever.) (Also, i like to imagine that when cissie Did kons makeup, bart and Tim jumped in there too bc like hey why not, and hoooooo boy, if Tims egg hadn’t cracked before then, it sure would have cracked after.)

The thing about him is, i’m not sure if he’d come to the realization himself. You know, that he would like to present femme sometimes, in a situation that has Nothing to do with a mission.

I could see Tim convincing himself that its a pointless or frivolous desire, which is Why he relegates his time presenting femme to when he can prove that it’s useful.

but i have this image in my mind, right? Of him, taking his makeup and wig off, and hes chatting with whoever is in the room with him (literally anyone else mentioned above… or Dick). And Tim’s just talking about how he wishes he could present this way in situations other than missions.

and the other person in the room is just like… i mean, you literally can.

and hes just like…. shit you’re right. i Can :0

I could probably go further into depth abt this, but i think this just frees him to start playing with gender more as Tim. and start to recognize when he’s feeling more masculine, more feminine, or somewhere in between.

His gender isn’t consistent, its this thing he’s constantly listening to, and trying to understand. but in the mean time, he can paint his face, and wear pretty clothes, or dress like just Some Guy, or be a hedgehog dressed in traffic light colors, or what ever his heart desires.

As far as like… how He describes his gender, i think he’d say something corny like bi^2 (bi of both the sexual and the gendered varieties). Or shrug, handwave, generally give a non-helpful vague description. Or tell who evers asking to buzz off.

(small addendum wrt Kon and Cassie in TT’03. I haven’t read this run yet, so i didn’t really include it in this post. But i Do have thoughts about what might cause the two of them (my gnc besties from my comics books) to lean sooooo hard into traditional gender roles after being So Queercoded in their other appearences. Before i talk abt that though, i want to read the comic. So, that will have to be a post for another time)

ANYWAY, heres that TL;DR i promised.

Bart: NB Transmasc Cassie: NB Lesbian (of the transmasc variety) Kon: Agender Tim: Fluid (bi-gender) + Cissie: Transgirl

Thank you soooooo much for giving me the opporrtunity to ramble abt the silles and how Not Cis i think they are. Love you forever.

[h2bakugou]

hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!

a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it

summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)

wordcount: 2k

;cut due to suggestive themes;

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It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.

Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.

With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.

It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’

But now, it was something you enjoyed.

Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.

It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery. 

It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.

Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.

There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.

His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.

His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.

The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.

You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.

But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.

Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.

“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.

“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.

“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again. 

“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.

Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.

“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.

“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”

“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.

“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.

“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch. 

“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.

You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.

You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin. 

His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.

“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.

“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do. 

Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.

Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.

Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.

Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well. 

“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.

“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.

His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.

“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.

A chance to connect with him, one on one. 

“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.

When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.

But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.

But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.

Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.

Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.

Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.

Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.

Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.

“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.

“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.

“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.

“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.

“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.

“If you feel the need-”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later. 

“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.

“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.

The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you. 

He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.

It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Six || “The Heart of the Ocean”

Disclaimer: I do not own the pictures I use for title cards. Obviously. 

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

A/N: Sorry for a late update. I do plan on finishing this series lmao, enjoy! 

“Did you… did you break something on the ship? ‘Cause if you did I’m sorry but I’m for sure going to pretend that I don’t know you.”

     The cold wind seemed to nip at your skin harsher than when you were standing over the railing, and perhaps it was because a major red blush was currently tainting your cheeks. A negative one - not pleasurable.

Either you could brush this whole incident off like it hadn’t happened, or you could come up with your best excuse as to why you were so flustered. You knew what the crew was currently wondering, as was your disturbed fiance and his friendly detective, George. For the slightest instant you imagined what Cal would do or say if you revealed the truth of your midnight endeavor, but you quickly erased the images as they were all so tempting to make you climb back over the railing. 

All this time your savior was being dragged onto his two feet, being thrown from crew member to crew member in such a rough manner that it made you uncomfortable. The air was causing a sort of fogginess to your hearing, but you quickly snapped out of it when Cal began insulting him. 

“What makes you think you could put your hands on my fiance?” Cal questioned, stepping towards Harry and grabbing his chin to raise his face. You held the itchy blanket tighter against your shoulders as you stepped forward. “Answer me, you filth!”

“Cal, stop! Stop it!” you begged, quickly transitioning from a tone of hysteria to one of more confidence. “It was an accident!”

Cal stumbled a bit on his heels, wondering if he had processed your proclamation correctly. As did Harry. 

Harry had not spoken during this entire ordeal for the simple truth that if he did, he would be entirely ignored. There was no way to reason with these people, he thought, as it was your word against his. And he had almost wholeheartedly believed you would go along with the ‘assault mishap’, but your sudden intrusion between his body and Cal’s made him rethink this entire night. Harry remembered your expression of pain and loneliness from when you were contemplating jumping - how wretched and unhappy you seemed to be. And for someone to have that look on their face in what could have been their last moments of life, then they had to be good at heart as well. 

Cal cleared his throat, “An accident?”

You forced yourself to giggle as you looked between both confused men. “Yes! Oh my, it’s stupid really.” 

Harry waited patiently, hands handcuffed behind him and with a smug expression on his face. Anything you could possibly invent at this very moment was sure to be impressive. 

“I wasn’t very hungry earlier so I decided to take a stroll on deck. The night was so beautiful and the stars were reflecting off the water! So, I leaned over and I slipped!”

Cal blinked somewhat rapidly, looking between you and Harry. 

“I leaned far over to see the stars and those- uh-uh-”

You knew the word. Of course, you knew the word. But you still milked the lie and mimed the movement of the propellers - this way Cal would honestly believe you were stupid enough to lean over the railing. 

Cal looked up to the sky, annoyed by your ignorance. “Propellers?”

Your voice raised an octave, “Yes!”

Cal shut his eyes at your sudden high voice but maintained his perfect posture.  

Your savior was watching you this whole time, that smirk growing and growing as you continued talking. He was enjoying every second of this, even with a prospective charge of attempted sexual assault in his future. But with your toying of vocabulary and puppy-dog facial expressions, that charge might definitely be removed from the table now.

“I was leaning far over to see the propellers and I slipped! I would have gone overboard but Mr. Styles here saved me. He was only a few feet away enjoying a nightly cigarette.” 

Harry wanted to click his tongue and walk away, but the officer was still squeezing his hands together. It was as if everyone was waiting for Cal’s approval. 

“She wanted to see the propellers! Oh my, she wanted to see the propellers!” Cal laughed, an approval to your story that prompted everyone else to agree with it, too. 

The officer pulled Harry back to whisper in his ear. “Was that the way of it?”

Everyone turned their heads to Harry, who immediately looked to you. You practically pleaded with your eyes for him to agree.

Harry sighed and slightly smiled, “Yeah. That was pretty much it.”

The officer released Harry hands from the handcuffs and made his way over to George for his compensation. Cal’s drinking buddies all rejoiced in the happy accident, patting him on the back as if to say, ‘See! No nonsense was committed! Nothing to worry about!’

“The boy is a hero, then!” one exclaimed, walking over to Harry and shaking his hand. Cal paid no mind, and instead grabbed you by your shoulders and began rubbing your arms up and down. 

“Look at you! You must be freezing! Let’s get you inside.”

Cal turned you around to leave, but you gave one last look over your shoulder at Harry, thanking him quietly under your breath. 

The officer chuckled towards Cal, stopping him with a look of amusement. “Perhaps a little something for the boy?”

Cal raised an eyebrow, looking from the officer, to you, to Harry. “Right, George. I think a twenty should do it.”

Although it confused you to admit any form of love connection between you and Cal, you still pulled him back for such an absurd number. “Oh, is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?”

Cal pursed his lips and smiled at you, enjoying your attitude for once. “My fiance is displeased.”

Everyone shared a round of chuckles. 

“What to do?” Cal pondered. “Oh, I know.”

Cal shoved his thumbs into the tiny pockets of his vest, slowly walking up to Harry while looking at him from top to bottom. He was enjoying this, Harry could tell. Although he somewhat believed the wild story you told, Cal was not one to be taken as a fool. He had heard you speak freely before on a variety of topics, with such an advanced vocabulary and lovely hardened look of determination to always get your word in. Cal knew you weren’t stupid, no, but he would not have made sense of a possible meet-cute situation with a third-class passenger. He believed he knew you better than that - you would not dare stoop so low. And at this moment, with a frightened young man’s future practically in Cal’s hands, he decided to flip a switch and have a little fun for once. 

“Perhaps, you would enjoy joining us for dinner tomorrow night? To regale our group with your heroic tale!” 

Harry squinted his eyes at Cal. Everyone remained quiet, no silent laughs were heard, and Harry realized that he may actually be serious. He looked over at you, watching as you trembled underneath that sad excuse of a blanket, skin blotchy from dry tears but still so elegant. Your hair moved ever so slightly with the tiny burst of winds, and your lips were murmuring quick pleas. 

“Sure, I would love to.”

Cal lightly nodded, turning back to you and guiding you away from your temporary guardian angel. 

Harry watched as you slightly recoiled from the hugs Cal tried to give, but then watched the instance of submission, and wanted to run up to you and guide you instead. As your midnight savior, it only seemed right to pursue that role. But the third class would not be suitable for you, and Harry’s wild hero fantasies were quickly squashed. 

Instead, Harry motioned toward George. “Could you lend me a smoke?”

George looked from Cal to Harry, debating on whether to engage with him or not. But he took out his own pack of smokes anyway, lifting the box for Harry. Harry took one and left it dangling between his incisors for a few seconds, watching George watch him. 

“I find it interesting,” George spoke, tucking his smokes back into his coat pocket. “That you were so quick to remove your jacket as the young lady slipped so suddenly.”

Harry shifted his weight, “I had removed it before she slipped.”

“And where were you standing?” George asked, walking to the railing. “Here?”

Harry only stared as George walked over to the other side of the railing. “Or here?”

George grinned, almost as if a lightbulb came on above his balding head. “Or…”

And he walked over to the lonely bench that had Harry’s drawing book, pencil pouch, and solitary pack of smokes. “Here.”

Harry shifted his weight once again, trying to seem more confident in his face than in his worried body. “Like I said, I removed the coat before she slipped and made my way over as she yelled for help.”

George raised his chin up high, judging Harry with every sudden movement. 

“Perhaps,” George said. “But a sudden slip from leaning would have resulted in her flipping over the railing, and her arms would have been backwards so how could she grab-”

“I would really love to stay and chat and ponder all kinds of possibilities but the rats in third-class need feeding,” Harry announced, grabbing his stuff and giving George a short wave goodbye. 

It wasn’t until he was around the corner and down the stairs that Harry could choke out the sob that was scratching at his throat this whole time. 

He really saved you. 

He really fucking succeeded in doing that. 

He stumbled down to third-class swallowing the massive lump in his throat and blinking away the stinging tears, ready to scarf down whatever food was left at the buffet. 

          “What have you done!?”

You flinched from the volume of your mother’s voice, practically cowering at the edge of your bed as she, Cal, and George walked through your messy stay room. Flower vases shattered, jewelry pinched and pulled from their stands, buttons from your evening gown on the floor, and perfume bottles shattered, their smell intermingling with the expensive fabric of the carpet and wallpaper. 

 “Look at me! What have you done?”

Before you could speak, Cal shushed your own mother and held his own hand up. Your mother blinked rapidly, looking from Cal and back to you, a look of absolute astonishment tainting her pale face. But was she going to respond to that disrespect? She never did and you didn’t count on her starting any time soon. 

“This night has been…” Cal muttered, loud enough for only the four of you to hear. “Peculiar.” 

He picked up the tossed chair by your make-up table, gently turning it back up and messed around with whatever trinkets were in his immediate reach. 

“I’m sure she has a valid explanation for such…” he paused. “Clutter.”

All you wanted to do was open the blankets and hoped they swallowed you whole. This whole situation was beyond embarrassing. Yes, you destroyed parts of your stay room and had no reasonable explanation for it other than ‘jumping into the ocean and ultimately not having to worry about it’. But all eyes were eating away at your awkward demeanor. You sat with your hands intertwined in your shaking lap, staring at little diamond designs in the soiled carpet. 

Cal’s voice rang through your ears again, “Well?”

You looked up and decided to look at George first, the least threatening one of the group. He seemed to be giving you a wholesome look of sympathy, as if he knew Cal was going to handle this whole situation in the worst way possible later. 

“I’ve been really anxious lately.”

“Oh, well, we haven’t noticed!” Your mother’s voice dripped with heavy sarcasm. Instead of collapsing deeper within yourself, you quickly turned your head in her direction, a look of solid outrage etched across your face. You had had such a difficult night, what with wanting to commit suicide and almost falling into the freezing ocean all within the last hour, that a look of pure anger toward your mother was enough to tell her non-verbally that you would indeed fight her if provoked. 

“No, I haven’t. Excuse me for having a breakdown.”

“Yes, excuse you. Now we’ll have to bring the waiting staff up here to clean up your little breakdown, and God knows they’ll gossip about it until the end of time,” Cal groaned, rubbing his temples. 

You shook your heavy head, wanting to say anything to have them leave you in peace. “I’ll clean it. I will simply ask for more towels and an empty box to put the broken items.”

Your mother scoffed, “You? Clean it? How absurd of a-”

“Would you rather I ask four or five servants to help and rant about my day to them?”

Cal stuttered in his stance, surprised by such an outburst. George, poor George, was used to this but still had a tiny smirk on this face. He decided to take his exit and slip out of the room. 

“I will clean it.”

Your mother simply marched from your room. Cal stood silent for a moment, looked at you, and gave you a small smile. 

“Don’t forget to scrub the carpets.”

And with that, he exited as well. Once the door shut and it was quiet for more than ten seconds, you collapsed onto the rug beneath you, your breath unsteady and chest tight. 

          It was as if he walked through the hallways completely lightheaded, still bouncing on the adrenaline spike from almost falling off the ship earlier. The combination of slipping, catching you, and watching your face contort with such a frightened expression was enough to increase the pressure in the middle of his chest. All he could do now was travel through his third-class lounging and take his mind elsewhere. 

Through the happy commotion and drunk third-class passengers, Harry could faintly hear the sound of the band underneath his feet. Dreamy eyes watched him pass by, hungry for a word or two with the confused boy, and drunk pushes from side to side to accompany such a late night. Harry didn’t know if he was heading to his own room or down the stairs for his snack, the music now beginning to become hazy in his ears. 

Without even comprehending the movement of his quick feet, he found himself in line for the last of the dinner soup and freshly baked bread. Once he got his meal, he sat at one of the empty tables and drank his soup, watching everyone lean on each other in sleepy states and finishing their own meals. There were families of all sizes, singles enjoying their time alone, and couples leaning over the railing outside watching the waves swim by. A part of Harry wanted to warn them about leaning over too far, that it was so simple for a sweaty palm to lose its grip, that the water was just so cold that it may just be better to be shot point blank. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair and quickly finished his meal, grabbing his untouched piece of bread and picking at it as he walked back to his cabin. He shoved his sketchbook underneath his armpit like he always did, walking slowly and absentmindedly back to his cabin, small pieces of bread in between his teeth every once in a while. His mind wasn’t entirely absent, obviously, but he still only saw flashes of the dark abyss below your dangling body. A shiver ran up his spine and he was hit was the sudden need to see you - you couldn’t be around the ship’s railings without him. 

Stop. You’re being ridiculous. She’s probably all cozied up with her rich fiance in that massive bed and far, far away from the water-

“Woah, where have you been all night? I had to eat dinner with our roommates, who have no manners by the way-”

Harry just now registered that Drake was steadying his shoulders and speaking to him. He snapped out of his dazed state, wondering just how many of his third-class mates he had ignored as he walked. 

“Drake, I gotta talk to someone. Now.”

“Did you… did you break something on the ship? ‘Cause if you did, I’m sorry but I’m for sure going to pretend that I don’t know you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued walking to their cabin, glancing over his shoulder once in a while to make sure his only confidant was still following him. Once they entered their room, Harry locked the door and checked if their roommates weren’t hidden in any crevice of their very tiny room. 

“Spill. I’m curious now.”

Harry breathed slowly, holding in his large breaths and exhaling deeply. This intrigued Drake, who was leaning on the bed post of his roommate with his arms crossed, an amused expression painted across his face. Harry sat on his own bed, hands covering his mouth. But once he could control his rapid breathing, Harry set his hands in his lap and looked up at Drake. 

“I did something good.”

“Oh, thank God! You had me there-”

“And I did something bad.”

“- Fucking Christ, man.”

Drake lowered his head as if to protect against the bad blow, but nonetheless curious to what horrible act Harry committed.

“I saved a woman from falling over the side of the ship.”

“Man that’s-!”

“She was trying to commit suicide.”

“...Man, that’s-”

“I convinced her to come back over the railing-”

Drake interrupted yet again, “She was already over the railing?”

 “And then she slipped and I almost went over, too.”

This time Drake let Harry finish.

“I saw her face. I had convinced her to come over the railing, and she was just this broken soul who didn’t want help. It’s like she didn’t even know the concept of receiving help.”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. “Then it was like we were joking with each other, only for a second. She wanted to come back over. Then she slipped and I swear Drake, I saw the regret in her face.”

Drake shifted uncomfortably. The subject matter was too intense, but Drake would have done the same thing. An opportunity to be there for someone else - well, that was Drake’s perfect cup of tea. 

“But you saved her. And saved yourself, luckily, in the process.”

“That’s not the worst part, Drake.”

“You gotta tell me, because right now I’m blank.”

Harry groaned and lay back onto his pillow. “Pretty sure she was fucking royalty.”

Drake’s eyes widened and he puckered his lips in silent astonishment. He didn’t say anything, opting to let Harry continue talking. 

“She had the clothes for it. She was wearing make-up, this dark and glossy red lipstick. And although I could smell the sea below us, I could still smell her fruity perfume.”

Neither man knew what to make of this encounter. For Drake, he was the listener and was to provide some form of broken advice. Because from what he heard so far, there wasn’t any worry unless the woman complained about Harry to someone else. For Harry, all he wanted to do was tell someone about this - he wasn’t craving advice or words of encouragement. He simply needed to tell someone that he saved a life and almost lost his own in the process. At this moment, no matter how much he respected Drake, he really wanted to speak to his mother. 

“After I pulled her back over, we tumbled onto the dock. It was like my ears didn’t register her loud screams as I was pulling her back up because next thing I know, I’m being pulled from on top of her.”

“Fuck, Harry please tell me-”

“She wasn’t wearing a night coat and I wasn’t wearing one either. By pulling her up, her dress had ripped to the middle of her thigh.”

Drake now groaned non-stop and he climbed to his top bunk, slamming himself face first into his own pillow. 

“Then her fiance came out.”

By now, Drake was involuntarily laughing. Loud laughs that shook his whole body, a response to the amazing events that transpired. The pure lack of luck Harry had was too much not to ‘involuntarily’ laugh at it. 

“But she lied. She told them she was leaning over and I simply caught her. She made herself look stupid just to save my ass.”

“Obviously she didn’t want to just announce she almost killed herself,” Drake replied. But still, Drake stared at the ceiling, fingers tapping the top of his other hand. A first-class passenger taking the blame for something major? Unlikely. Unheard of. Unbelievable. 

“Why do you think she saved your ass?”

Harry sighed softly, a small smile forming on his face. “I think it’s because I’m the only one who wanted to pull her back over. No one else came. No one else was around.”

Drake nodded even though Harry couldn’t see him, “I don’t really know what to say, Harry.”

So Harry ranted the rest of the night, subconsciously thinking about possibly seeing you again. Would you look happy and well recovered? Would you nod to him in silent agreement, like a nonverbal statement of truce? Or would ignore him entirely, thank him for what he did, uninviting him from that dinner your fiance mentioned?

“Oh my God!” Harry yelled, hands accidentally tugging some of his hair from their roots. 

Drake’s sleepy eyes flew open and he sat up straight, watching as Harry began pacing around the small room.  “Wha-What?”

“Her fiance invited me to dinner tomorrow night. First-class dinner. I don’t- I said ‘yes’!”

“Why in the world would you say ‘yes’?”

“I panicked! What was I supposed to say to an offer like that after what just happened?”

 “Uh, ‘no’!”

Harry collapsed on his bed, pulling the blanket over his head and shutting his eyes tightly. Drake was somewhat wide awake now, completely amazed at both Harry’s bravery and stupidity combined. 

“We’ll deal with this tomorrow,” Drake started. “For now, we sleep and hope she doesn’t change her story.”

Harry agreed with that logic, no matter how much his mind told him to think of a backup plan. But now wasn’t the time, not when his thoughts were scattered. All he knew for sure was that he would see you again, and he had no idea what he would ultimately say. 

           You absentmindedly pulled stray hair from your hairbrush, rolling the strands and tossing them into the can beside your make-up table. You had cleaned the room the best you could and used so many towels that the staff would definitely wonder what happened this night, but you couldn’t care less. The floor was clean, your bed was made, and only the smell of the perfume you broke lingered in the air. 

You didn’t hear the door to your stay room open as you continued to get ready for bed. You gasped at the sight of Cal, hand instinctively clutching your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, walking slowly to where you were seated. 

“I did not think tonight was going to have so much excitement.”

You gave him a small smile, eyes trained on him through your mirror. “It’s late, Cal. Perhaps we should go to bed.”

“Are you inviting me?”

You cringed inwardly but still kept a steady posture. You shook your head and chuckled nicely at his statement, hands going back to work on your hairbrush. 

“I was hoping to save this for the engagement galla next week,” Cal continued, sweeping the jewelry on your desk to the side and taking the hairbrush from your hand. You accepted the small defeat, hands now resting on your thighs.

“But I think now is the proper time.”

Cal opened a velvet blue box in front of you, a heart-shaped diamond that could fill the palm of your hand inside. 

“Oh my,” you gasped, looking up toward Cal for an explanation. “Cal, this is too much.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled and picked up the necklace, unclipping the back and bringing it toward your neck. You pulled your hair back and let him clip it on. 

“Look at you.”

And you did. It was heavy, the dark blue tint looking more like a horrid bruise in the middle of your sternum, and you wanted it off immediately. It was beautiful, you thought, but it was not yours. 

“Cal, it’s overwhelming,” you said, somehow trying to convey the very uncomfortable feeling you were being drowned by. But Cal just smiled behind you, kneeling down beside you and looking into your eyes and back to the necklace. You cupped the heart in your hand. 

“It was worn by Louis the XVI, his crown. It was made for royalty,” Cal spoke, now watching you as you held it tightly. “We are royalty. ‘Au coeur de l'océan’, they call it.”

“The heart of the ocean,” you translated at the same time Cal did, a look of shock on his face. You wanted to roll your eyes, disbelief overriding your senses at the fact he assumed you didn’t know French. As if you hadn’t studied it since the age of three. 

“It’s yours now.”

You looked at Cal without the help of the mirror, staring at his dark eyes and trying to read them. He leaned his cheek on his left hand and he gave you a small smile. 

“Oh, open your heart to me, Sweetpea,” he practically begged, waiting only a few more seconds before sighing and unclipping the necklace from your neck. You actually pondered his request, wondering if opening your heart for this man would truly be as bad as you assumed it would be. But all you could do was give him a gentle nod - not one of acceptance, but a promise to at least think about it. He left you alone after saying goodnight, still sitting in front of the mirror, furrowed eyebrows straining your forehead and giving you a headache. 

Because as you thought about succumbing to a possibly loveless marriage with Cal, the soft face of the boy from earlier crept back into your mind, poking and prodding at any common sense left inside the padded confines of your skull.

- xxMoni

[kylo-hen]

The Milk Man

A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely  plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.

Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.

Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.

    Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.

     With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.

     It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.

    Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.

     “Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.

    “What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.

    “Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.

     “Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!

    “Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.

    “Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.

    “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.

    “Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.

    “No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.

    “Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.

    “I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?

   “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.

    My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.

    “Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.

    “Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.

     He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.

    “Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”

    After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.

    By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.

    “Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.

   “Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.

    “You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man.     “Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.

    “Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.

    So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.

    Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.

    “Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.

    “Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.

     “I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.

    “Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.

    “It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.

    “Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.

    “Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.

     “Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.

    “What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features.  He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.

      “Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.

    “What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.

    “Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.

    “Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.

    “They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.

    The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?

    When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.

    “I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.

    “I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.

     “Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.

    “I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.

    From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.

    Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.

    Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.  

     Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.

    Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.

    Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.

     Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam���s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.

    “Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.

    His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.

    “If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.

     As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.

     Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.

    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.

    “I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.

    “Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.

    “I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.

    “You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.

    “Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.

    He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.

     With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.

    “Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.

     “Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.

    “Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.

    Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.

    “You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.

    “Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.

    “I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.

    He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.

    “Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.

    “Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.

    “Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.

    “Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.

    “Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.

    “Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.

    As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.

     “Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.

     He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!

[mistaeq]

I'd like to request a part 6 matchup then please 👀 I'm a scorpio, INFP, bisexual, usually quiet, bizarre gen z sense of humor, big savior complex haha oops, I struggle with depression and I love drawing, listening to music and writing ofc. I get anxious in big crowds so I tend to avoid them, or if I can't avoid them then I just hide behind the person I trust. Thx bby ❤️

Matchup

TW // depression is mentioned

Thank you for your request, Memory !! Hope you will enjoy this. Finally back with matchups ~♡

Stone Ocean Matchup

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

My first matchup choice for you is...

Narciso Anasui!

When you first met, in Emporio's hidden room, Anasui asked himself how could such a quiet person like you be in jail. He genuinely couldn't get it. Narciso doesn't like too talkative people, since he moves, acts and listens to others for his own interests only. But your behavior really caught his attention. Someway maybe more than Kujo Jolyne did.

Since the first time he met anyone, that person would ask questions about his life, his mistakes, about the crime he had committed to be there. And he just didn't like it. That is why, the man had asked Emporio - or Weather Report - to be the one to inform people about his past before people asked him directly. But everyone always ended up asking him for more details. How annoying. You didn't, by the way.

Much to his surprise, though, you know how to me loud and chaotic too, above all when you and Foo Fighters laugh together over memes. He took a look at those too, just for the sake of knowing what you like. Might it be just because he knew that you were the one liking them, even if those memes were not his thing, he'll admit he's let out a couple giggles, looking through those along with you and F.F.

After he got to know you, it looked like Jolyne had completely slipped and gone away from his mind. Much to her happiness, to be honest. Narciso's undesired avances were on the verge of making her go completely feral. "It looks like it's your time to get his marriage proposals, Memory..." Kujo chirped, laughing at your shocked expression when she talked about marriage proposals.

Did you say savior complex? Narciso definitely cherishes this side of you. He's in love with the way you're always in the first row, when it comes to helping someone who needs your help. He even got the occasion to save you as well, when you happened to put yourself in trouble because of your will to absolutely help someone.

This exaggerated - but not negative at all - obsession about you made him wanna start to get all worried about everyone as well. Emporio always told you, Anasui never helped anyone, unless it regarded him or was for his own profit. You told him not to force himself over a behavior which didn't belong to him, since just like you do, he might have ended up in plenty of troubles. But he just wanted to conquer your heart.

Nobody would have dared to bet a single coin on it, but Narciso Anasui is an actual cheesy man, when he's infatuated for someone, who happens to be you. He won't even let depression get to you, the pink haired man is so ready to fight against it for you. In every hobby and passion of yours, you'll find him supporting you and complimenting your job.

This guy fucking loves reading. Please, don't be afraid to ask suggestions or opinions to him, when you're writing something and need someone to read it to comment it and maybe give you some tips. He didn't have many hobbies or things to do in prison, so he used to stick to reading books and letting his fantasy fly outside of the GD St. Jail. Plus we all know one if his all time favourite characters is Mickey... he's a hidden child.

He's never gonna bring you into crowded places, and even if he doesn't judge a place as "crowded", he's gonna ask you first anyway. The last thing Narciso wants is making you feel bad for a decision of his. He wouldn't forgive himself for such a thing. The man learnt to pay attention to your expressions of discomfort, and knows when he has to help you.

He doesn't like it, when he has to do it, because it means you're not feeling well, but he won't hide he feels pretty lucky, when you hide behind him, since it means that you really trust him. Don't tell anyone, but Jolyne and Foo Fighter overheard him bragging about this to an annoyed Weather Report, who just wanted to sleep and had to listen to Anasui's half-an-hour-long essay about you, instead.

My second matchup choice for you is...

Hermés Costello!

Hermés has been having a crush on you, a pretty strong one, for a good amount of time by now, but the thought of you probably not liking girls was haunting her, and she had no idea of what to do to not to make it awkward. She looked for Jolyne, to ask her for an opinion... and overheard you right in the act of revealing your bisexuality to your best friend. Lucky! She started to hang around you more, after that day.

The truth is, that Costello usually laughs over the bizarre gen Z type of memes, but just doesn't want to admit it. She's naturally calmer than you, or for example Foo Fighters, so she thinks that laughing over those might make her menacing woman façade disappear. She doesn't know whether it might be easier to conquer you by being serious and mysterious or by laughing with you.

When she finally chose to confess, she did it in the most cliché way ever. She just didn't know how to do it. She left a note with a confession in your prison cell, and waited for a reaction from you. If it was positive, then, good for her, she would have been able to love you. If it was negative, she would have made up an excuse to make you believe the note was just one of Jojo and F.F.'s pranks. Luckily, you accepted.

Good thing you have such a savior complex, because Hermés tends to constantly put herself in an ocean of troubles, and will definitely need someone to save her everytime, along with Jolyne and Foo Fighters. If it wasn't for you questioning where she is everytime, she probably would have died after not even a week. But luckily, she has such a good girlfriend thinking about her when she needs it.

Depression? Say no more. Your girlfriend will never leave your side on days when you feel it kicking in more than usual. It's true, you can't do much in prison, but the woman keeps on promising you that once you'll be out of there, she'll bring you to lots of new places to explore, wherever you'd like, to take care of your sadness and bad feelings. Damn, finding love in prison is wild.

She sometimes uses Kiss to duplicate herself and be able to take care of you, above all when you're feeling down and needs something to cheer you up. Two Hermés aren't just perfect for cuddling, but also to have fun, since it's comic to see her twice. Though, you tend to ask her to not to do it often, since going back to a single one after Kiss's effect ends, is sometimes painful for Hermés and you're aware of it.

"Yo, Memory... is that possibly... me?" Costello asked, staring at the drawing you were working on, sitting in your prison cell, the sketchbook on your thighs. You nodded, smiling. You enjoyed sketching her, she was like art to you, and couldn't help loving her body and facial featured. "This is fucking amazing. For real Memory." she sat next to you, and kept on staring at your drawing. "Am I that beautiful in your eyes?"

Oh god. Jolyne and Foo Fighters mock the two of you so much because of your habits. Hermés and you often happen to fall asleep, your head on her shoulder and her head on yours, while you're sharing earphones and listen to your favourite music. Such things aren't really appreciated in the middle of the girls in your prison section, so Emporio allows you and your girlfriend to rest in his hidden room.

Hermés doesn't mind big crowds, but she can't say she enjoys them. She'd rather be in peace, or at least with a bunch of people she enjoys staying with, like you, Jolyne and Foo Fighters. The four of you are like a squad, and perfectly know that they have to keep you away from big crowds. Your girlfriend usually take care of it, but if she's not around, Jojo and F.F. do it for her.

Even without you asking for it, if you can't avoid the crowd, Costello will grab your hand, to make sure you don't get lost or panic because of all the people, and pull you through the confusion of the noisy voices, to a place where the two - or four, depends on whether your friends are there too - of you can spend some quality time without having to worry about protecting you from crowds.

[lavalampelfchild]

Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all!  Welcome to my art masterpost!  I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are!  What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood.  But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!  

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did.  It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~  Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively.  Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it.  This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie.  Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart  It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like.  (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew.  What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future. 

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood.  I am super proud of this one.  My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is.  This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic!  It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone.  But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version.  This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of.  Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note.  A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites.  His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted.  And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool.  It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood).  This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn.  And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see.  This one was ambitious for me!  It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out.  The version you can actually see a larger view is here.  

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work.  This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~).  I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI.  So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself.  The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use.  Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD!  I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...).  I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it?  At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh.  Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do.  This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style.  I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste.  In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here.  I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me.  This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch!  With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall.  It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make.  I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often.  It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes.  Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore.  The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt.  This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with.  For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble.  Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.  

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right).  I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art!  Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall.  Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with.  What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face.  Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets.  This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn.  Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there.  It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self.  This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~  She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc.  All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image.  It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human!  It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!  

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI).  This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves.  I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face!  (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

[simkjrs]

fic: see you in the dark

chapter i: a troublePSIme development

saiki kusuo no psi nan x worm web serial | saiki kusuo & taylor hebert | 3k

----

Psychic power. For instance… hearing other people’s thoughts, or seeing what’s on the other side of a wall, or even manipulating objects through power of will alone. A power to do what normal people can’t. That’s what I have. 

My name is Saiki Kusuo, and I am an esper. 

Q: Are you a chuunibyou?

A: No. 

I’ve lived with this power my whole life. Some of you might be thinking, “How lucky! With that kind of power, you could do anything you want!” Wrong! Do you know how annoying it is to always be hearing people’s thoughts, or constantly seeing through skin and muscle until everyone simply looks like walking sacks of bones? Not to mention each power comes with its own downsides too. Read the manga if you want to learn more. In any case, having psychic power has done nothing but inconvenience me since the moment of my birth, and is barely any help in my pursuit of my dream to live a completely ordinary life. 

That said, thanks to my psychic powers, nothing bad has ever really happened to me, so I don’t really have anything to complain about. 

Well, there is one thing. 

“Saiki. How did your part of the project go last night?” 

As I haven’t brainwashed the people of this world into ignoring me speaking directly to their minds with telepathy, I can only respond through physical gesture or by speaking with my actual voice. I don’t particularly care to do the latter, so I simply nod in greeting. 

Here, Hebert. Take this packet of papers with all my work so you can look over it and calm down your paranoia about me ruining your grades, and so I don’t have to speak. 

As you may have guessed, the one speaking to me is named Hebert. Taylor Hebert, to be exact. Since this is a story and not a manga or anime, I’ll describe her for you. She’s tall for her age, thin, and has long, curly black hair. As for her facial features… She probably has a wide mouth, but I wouldn’t know, since my X-ray vision is always on and looking at anyone for longer than a second means I start seeing through their skin down to their muscle and bone. Thanks to that I’ve never bothered to memorize people’s faces very closely. I can identify them by their thoughts anyways. 

So why are you complaining about Hebert? you might be asking. Is she a bad school partner? Does she smell bad? Does she have a romantic inclination for you that you can’t maneuver your way out of no matter how hard you try, like a certain blue-haired perfect pretty girl loved by God? 

None of the above. There’s nothing wrong with Hebert herself. She’s capable, diligent, and introverted, which suits a shy and withdrawn student like me. No, the problem is the trouble that she comes with. 

Here they come, right on cue. Hess has walked by and bumped Hebert just a little too hard, almost jostling the papers out of her hands. None of that, now. I’ll help Hebert keep ahold of them with a little telekinesis. I worked hard on those papers, you know. No knocking them down. 

“Oops, sorry, we didn’t see you there, Taylor,” says Barnes sweetly. “I guess we just didn’t notice you, what with how plain and ugly your clothes are…” 

And there they go, starting up with one insult after another. They’re not even very good insults. Well, carry on a bullying campaign for a year and a half and you’ll eventually run out of material, I suppose. It’s still quite annoying to hear themselves congratulating themselves for a job well done with each insult, though. Like this, with Barnes…  

<Hehe. The look on her face. She’s totally self conscious about how she looks, now. I wonder if she’ll go cry in the bathroom later?> 

That’s not something you should be proud of, you know. The level of self-congratulation sure is amazing. Actually, what’s more amazing is how shamelessly they bully Hebert right in front of others. I’m right here, you know? Not that I want them to notice me, but it’s the principle of the matter. 

I shift in my seat slightly, which successfully draws their attention away from Taylor for a moment. 

“Oh, sorry, Saiki,” Barnes says. “Were we interrupting a moment between you two?” Yes, our homework consultation time. “Nah, who am I kidding? No one would ever get together with flat-chest over here.” What’s the big deal about the size of someone’s chest? One mass of fat and muscle is basically the same as another; if there’s a little more or less, who cares. “You’re still working with her on this project? You can do way better than her.” 

Is that so? Certainly I could find a partner with better grades if I wanted, but I don’t want good grades. I want ones that are completely ordinarily average. Standing out is the opposite of what I want to do… although, being partnered with Hebert, I’ve already failed step one. What a pain. 

“Yeah,” says Clements. “Haven’t you heard how bad her grades are? She never turns in anything on time…” That’s because you steal her things. “And she cheats…” That’s because you frame her after you copy her work. “And when she does turn in original work, the quality is so bad, she might as well drop out and join the Merchants!” That’s because she has to redo her work after you destroy it. Who has the time to redo everything perfectly a second time. 

The bullies all seem to think this is very clever though, laughing at Hebert. It’s actually quite incredible that anyone could be this cliche. 

Hebert has lowered her head. … It’s only natural to be worn down after months of this treatment, I suppose. 

<Damn it. Why did they have to do this in front of Saiki? Now I’ll lose another partner, too. Can’t I have just one class without having to worry about them?> 

It doesn’t really make a difference if they do it here or in another classroom, Hebert. I can still hear it with my telepathy. This bullying case is even worse than Akechi’s. At least Akechi had acquaintances who would help him in the aftermath. But no one steps up to help Hebert. 

“Hey, it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you,” says Barnes. 

Ah, that’s right, they’re waiting for a response from me. Why did you have to drag me into this, seriously. 

“Well?” says Barnes, putting a hand on her hip. “What do you think?” 

Now that it’s come to this, I have no choice but to respond. 

What should I do? Talk to her? I’d rather not make my first spoken words in this story to someone like her. 

Ignore her? 

<This guy is ticking me off. If he keeps ignoring me, I’ll have to explain to him properly how it works around here…> 

That’s just trouble. How annoying. 

With those two options off the table, you’ve left me no choice but to show you the power of an esper, Barnes. You brought this on yourself. 

“Hey, she’s talking to you,” Hess says menacingly, stepping up to me and grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. “Or do you want to end up on the shit list like Hebert, here?” 

I narrow my eyes. I see. So you want to pick a fight with me? 

Then you better be prepared for the consequences. 

Hess flinches for a second, before gripping my shirt harder. “What’s with that look?” she says lowly. <What was that?! Usually he just sits there passively with a blank expression. He doesn’t respond to anything. He’s totally prey! He’s basically air! But for a second there, I could have sworn…> 

“Don’t bother with him,” Clements says disdainfully. “I mean, if he doesn’t want to talk, he’s pretty much declared where he stands, right?” She smiles. Next to her, Barnes holds the papers I worked so hard on last night. She makes direct eye contact with me as she rips it into shreds. I have the feeling I’m supposed to be hurt by this action somehow, but this level of harassment is so petty it’s just sad. 

<That’ll show you not to mess with me. So hurry up and change your expression already…Hm?> 

She follows my gaze to the doorway behind her. 

There stands Mr. Prescott, looking at the shredded paper on the desk. That’s right. Behold the revenge of an esper. 

“Miss Barnes,” says Mr. Prescott, “Care to explain?” 

<Damn it, it’s Shadow Stalker and her friends. I can’t turn a blind eye to this, but if I’m too hard on her, we could lose the PRT funding…> 

“Oh, Mr. Prescott!” Barnes says sweetly. “We were just messing around between friends. Sorry, it looks a little compromising, huh?” 

Mr. Prescott’s gaze travels to where Hess is still holding my shirt. Hess lets go quickly and straightens up. 

“Yes,” Mr. Prescott says slowly. “Well. There’s nothing wrong with having fun with your friends. But be sure not to disrupt class. Everyone be seated, then. The bell is about to ring.” 

“Sure thing, Mr. Prescott,” Clements says, and the bullies disperse away from my desk. 

<At least they gave me an excuse not to do anything, but honestly, if you’re going to do anything, make sure I won’t see it…> Mr. Prescott, you sure do love that PRT funding, huh. What is with this school. So irresponsible. 

<What bad luck. Usually the teacher doesn’t get here for a couple minutes more,> Emma thinks. <What was that timing?> 

That would be my doing. Using my telepathy, I nudged Mr. Prescott into deciding to walk over a few minutes earlier than usual. Of course, now he’s thinking about how he’s strictly not entering the classroom until after the bell has rung because he wants to avoid seeing trouble like that again, so it seems it was a one-time use trick, but it’s enough to make everyone back off for now. 

<That Saiki, he didn’t even flinch. It’s like he knew Mr. Prescott was coming.> There goes Hess speculating about me again. <Or it could just be his face. He always looks like he just smelt something foul. I don’t think I’ve seen him change expression once. Or heard him talk, for that matter.> A pause. <Wait, is he mute?> 

She feels a moment of shame. That’s right. You should feel bad. 

<…Typical. How weak. He’s got to be prey after all.> 

Wow. What a character. 

Hess, for someone who likes to call herself a predator, you’ve sure got bad instincts. 

“I’m sorry, Saiki,” Hebert says to me as Mr. Prescott sets up the projector. “It’s my fault your work got ruined.” 

<Why’d he have to catch their attention like that, anyways? If he’d just kept his head low, maybe I could’ve gotten through this class’s project...> 

Your resentment is saying something totally different. I don’t hold it against her, though, since anyone would gather up resentment after being bullied for so long. It’s only natural to lash out against someone you can actually have an impact on instead of the people whose fault it actually is. At least she’s only doing it in her mind. 

<No, what am I thinking? It’s the Trio’s fault. It’s just so frustrating. They’ve already ruined my notebooks this morning.> … It’s a tough life. I’m surprised at how reasonable Hebert is being even in the confines of her own mind, though. It’s okay to sling mud at me a little longer. I can take it. I’ve heard thoughts like that my whole life. Although, thanks for not blaming me for too long, I suppose. It would have been annoying to work with you while constantly hearing how upset you are with me. <And now Saiki’s going to stop working with me, because he won’t want to be dragged into this. I’m alone again.>

Hahhh, seriously, what a pain. I haven’t even responded yet, you know? 

I shrug at Hebert, and then I reach into my bag for a spare sheaf of papers. With a bit of thoughtography, I copy the research I did last night onto the papers and pull them out. 

Hebert’s eyes widen when I put it in front of her. “You brought a second copy.” The amount of relief she feels is a bit depressing. The suspicion that immediately follows, even more so. “Why?” 

I slide my eyes to look at Barnes across the room, curl my lips into a slight sneer, and then turn my eyes back to the front, going back to my usual blank expression. 

<Emma? Wait, so he made preparations in case the Trio did anything?> Sure, let’s go with that. <Then… Well. Of course he’s noticed the bullying by now. But if he knew what was going on, why didn’t he do anything earlier? Why now?> 

Sorry, Hebert. I’m not really a nice person. I don’t take action unless it directly affects me. You’ve gotten quite the selfish partner. 

<But at the same time… I guess if I was in his position, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them, either. He’s only just transferred into the school, and I don’t think he has any friends.> Don’t say that with such a pitying tone. I don’t want any friends here. <How would he even stand up to the Trio’s social circle? But he still stuck with me as a partner even though he knew. He made backup copies so we’d still be able to complete the project…> 

Hebert lowers her head at her desk. 

<And for a second there, I thought he really was going to fight Hess, too.> She noticed too, huh. Well, hopefully she’ll write it off as easily as they did. <That basically makes him the only person here to show me any kind of support, doesn’t it?> Just my luck. Of course she didn’t. <Maybe if someone like him had arrived here just a few months earlier, the locker incident wouldn’t have...>

Hebert, your life is seriously depressing. I haven’t done anything for you. It’s just a copy of my work, stop reading so much into it. 

<He didn’t have to go that far for me.> 

Seriously, it wasn’t for you. They were just getting me involved. It annoys me when someone thinks they can get the better of me. 

“…Thanks.” 

I said it wasn’t for you. 

Whatever. I give her a curt nod and then go back to ignoring her. This is an important class to pay attention to, after all. 

“Good morning, class. Welcome back to our Parahuman Studies unit. As a reminder, your research project is due this Friday…” 

<I wonder why an upperclassman like Saiki is taking this class, though. Is he taking it for easy units, maybe?> 

Hebert, I’m trying to concentrate here. 

<Well, it is an elective class, so maybe he’s just interested in the topic. The research he did looked really thorough and well-cited, too. I wonder how knowledgeable he is? Maybe I’ll ask after class.> Please don’t. I’m a sensitive soul. If too many people try to engage me in social interaction in one day I’ll wither away and die. <Who knows, maybe he even knows something that could help me with my debut.> 

Oh boy.

<Yeah. I can’t put off debuting any longer. I’ve had these powers for long enough, it’s time I stop delaying and start doing something meaningful.> 

This is the other troublesome thing with Hebert. 

What? you might be saying. Isn’t it cool that she has powers? Look you can be friends, and you’re not alone anymore. 

First of all, I’m not interested in being anyone’s friend. There’s nothing wrong with being alone. But no, the real problem is that she’s not like me at all. 

<Shard:Queen_Administrator:<PROCESS_INPUT>>

There’s a parasitic alien shard attached to her brain, and it’s the thing that gives her powers. On top of that, she controls bugs. 

It’s not that I’m afraid of bugs. They’re not particularly disgusting, either. Not much more than seeing people’s muscular structure every day, anyways. What really bothers me about them is that they’re so small I can’t read their minds or predict them. Birds, mammals, even fish? Sure. Bugs, though? Nothing. It’s way too creepy. 

I nearly refused to be her partner when I realized what she could do, but it turns out that by listening to this “Queen Administrator” shard, I can predict what nearby bugs are going to do and when. So it’s better to be next to her than not… even though it comes with the downside of knowing where every single bug in a two block radius is. 

And there are so. Many. Bugs. Just my luck. I’ll never be able to relax again. 

I’m getting sidetracked. The point is: I’m different from her. I’m different from every parahuman on this Earth, in fact. Of all the superpowered people on this planet, there is still not a single one like me. 

I’m sure that you, as a savvy reader, have noticed my phrasing by now. This Earth? you may be asking. Yes. This Earth, as one among many. This dimension is a different dimension from my own. 

That’s the biggest thing to complain about, really. I’ve accidentally hopped dimensions, and I don’t have a clue how to get back home. 

—— 

How did I get here? you might ask. Well, it’s a simple answer, really. For all of you manga readers, you may recall that in chapter 206 my limiter device malfunctioned and resulted in me acquiring a wide variety of inconvenient and useless powers. One of those powers? Dimension hopping. 

But that’s not useless at all! you might be crying. Imagine the possibilities! The riches you could acquire! The fame you could accrue! The technological development you could facilitate! 

With my powers I could make money in hundreds of different ways, easily. I don’t need dimension hopping for that. And why would I get myself money anyways, when I can just acquire what I want directly with my powers? 

That’s why I don’t bother with riches, and fame is just annoying because of all the attention. And I wouldn’t want to help facilitate technological development. That would require me to reveal my abilities in some capacity, and you should have realized by now that I would much prefer my privacy. 

In any case, I accidentally dimension hopped here. I managed to use one of the other “useless powers” to fix my limiter device so my psychic powers worked properly again, but now I can’t figure out how to get home. I don’t know how to break my limiter in the right way to get the dimension hopping power back, and I don’t want to risk it either, since my powers without the limiter device are uncontrollably strong and I might end up irrevocably changing this world if I’m not careful. 

Oh well. Kuusuke will probably find where I’ve ended up, eventually. The best thing to do is stay in one place until then. 

——

After a long and harrowing day at school blending into the background, I’ve finally arrived home. 

“Home.” In reality, it’s just an abandoned house that I fixed up with my psychic powers. No one knows I’m here. Well, that’s fine with me, though. 

Finishing all my homework is easy, so I take care of that first. Then I read some books. Then it’s around dinnertime. That’s a simple matter of taking some plants I gathered and deer meat I hunted from a forest on the other continent the other day, and stored in my “refrigerator” of ice I made from my cryokinesis. Then cook everything with pyrokinesis in an iron pot I bought with some money I got from cheating the lottery with my clairvoyance and X-ray powers. 

It’s quiet without my noisy and troublesome family around… Well, I’m always complaining about them, so I don’t have the right to complain about not having them here. 

There’s really not much to do. Maybe I should get myself a computer so I can go look around that PHO forum that Hebert is always thinking about. 

Speaking of Hebert, didn’t she say she was going to debut tonight? I guess I’ll check in on her. It would be annoying if my project partner got herself killed on her first night out, after all. Let’s see… 

Crossing my eyes, I activate my clairvoyance. Where is she… Aha, there. 

“--shoot the kids.”

<What? He’s going to murder children?! I know that’s Lung I’m going up against, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing…!> 

<Shard:Queen_Administrator:<COMMAND>>

Wait wait wait. Lung? As in the leader of that one gang, the parahuman who no one wants to take on? 

Good grief. Hebert, you sure have a talent for getting into trouble. I’m trying to keep this story strictly comedy, or failing that, at least something that’s not dark. You just had to go and change the genre, didn’t you. What am I supposed to do here? 

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

[eyecicles]

Top 5 of your hot takes about Those!L? Haha whatever you want really, I just want to hear you talk about him basically

Oooh, let’s see (spoilers under the cut!) (also, I want to apologise in advance for rambling endlessly, lol):

1. Just the thought of L as a legendary totally corrupt gay lawyer is an aesthetic I’m in love with. When we first meet him, he’s described as “a bit of a mess with slicked back black hair”, and combined with L’s peculiar facial features, especially his eyes, you get a great mental picture of him. Also, I’m so glad that Those!Light is obsessed enough with both him and fashion to tell us what he’s wearing in great detail. Picturing L in nice suits is wonderful enough, but Light’s internal rants about his shitty sweaters or jeans are great too. I love how his energy his chaotic and refined at the same time. Also, I remember there was a scene where Light thinks that he has “something of winter”, and it’s just intriguing to read how his thoughts about L get slowly more and more poetic and romantic. Sometimes he romanticises him so much that his admiration turns to jealously. He was the first person to make Light wish he could be someone else for a moment and hnghnng, I love it

2. There were at least three scenes involving L that, well, felt like a knife to the heart:

The first one would right after L faked his death. B trying to convince Light that he’s dead indeed is heartbreaking enough, but this little scene here

I found one of L’s old sweet wrappers in my car ashtray when I pulled over, so I threw it out of the window and then regretted it. It was littering. Then the possibility hit me for the first time that I wouldn’t see him again apart from in grainy photographs or in the background, unfocused, in press footage. I had little to show of his existence or his effect on my life, so it was like he’d disappeared completely, and I was so frustrated that a fucking sweet wrapper suddenly held all these memories and emotions – it was pathetic. I’d thrown it away with no ceremony, only shaking hate. 

was so unbelievable painful to read, I had to stop for a moment.

The second one would be when Kira finds L’s picture inside Light’s drawer. Everything is written with such a care and detail, that I had to reread the entire segment a few times, actually. It was equally touching, funny, as it was, of course, heartbreaking. Especially this:

He still can’t understand but stays quiet about it. After a while of looking at the photo in confusion, he starts rummaging around in his pocket for something. I think that maybe it’s for crayons so he’ll draw on the glass and I know that I’ll let him do it and get some absurd satisfaction from the defacement. Maybe I’ll join in and go mad scribbling out L’s face with a furious black crayon, blotting out the only real thing of him that’s left until he is truly gone. But Kira pulls out a toy plane. I’m disappointed. I’m used to it. “Do you think that Eru would like my plane?”

“Yes. I think that he’d love your plane,” I say after a few moments of silent conflicting feelings.

and this:

“Is Eru your friend?“

"Yes.”

“Even if he’s deaded?”

“Yes. He’ll always be my friend.”

…I think this made me a cry a bit, if I remember correctly. (And I don’t cry easily) (Listen, I’m just very sensitive when it comes to L & death because of his actual canon fate)

And the final scene I want to mention isn’t “just” sad - it actually has kind of a happy ending (kind of because when is anything in “Those” truly happy, lmao). It’s when Light goes to L’s apartment with his divorce papers:

Sensing someone in the doorway, I force myself to look up in case I’m in someone’s way. L looks down at me, cast in shadow, but doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. I can’t read him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I just exhale and feel how exhausted I am, and how relieved I am to see him. I thought you’d left me again, just when I made a clearing for you to take everything I have and make it yours. I’d take your name if you wanted me to. If I could. I’d become your property until the wrecking balls came, and be proud of it.

After a little while, I grasp my hair close to my scalp until it hurts and my eyes scrunch up from pain. For me in another time, this would be a mistake. It wouldn’t have happened. What the fuck went wrong?

L bends to pick up my dropped application for divorce, sees what it is and looks at me like he expects me to explain it. But I don’t have to, do I? I can’t give any more of myself than I already have done. When I don’t say anything, he walks to me and sits against the opposite wall. I’m not sure how much time passes with us sitting like that, but eventually he crawls towards me and kisses me like it’s a thank you. We don’t need words, you and I.

I touch the back of his head as another removal man steps over us.

3. Let’s talk about how fucking funny Those!L is for a moment. The first time I laughed uncontrollably, was when Light locked himself and L in a fucking baby’s changing room at Light’s birthday party:

Then there’s a knock behind him and my eyes flicker away from his to look at the door with someone who’s not welcome on the other side of it.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice asks. “Is anyone in there? I need to change my baby.”

L sighs and turns his head slightly to the side. “I’m afraid that you’re stuck with it, madam. You can’t swap it for another one. Kindly piss off.”

I also love his rant about Kitamura, where he just ends Light’s phone conference to force him to listen to him, or his reaction to Matt interrupting their breakfast at an Italian bistro, and especially the scene where Light watches L getting interviewed on TV. It’s too long of a scene to quote here, but as soon as I realised that he integrated the lyrics of “Under Pressure” into his totally inspirational speech, I completely lost it: 

“He’s a victim of a consumerist attitude where children are given money instead of love. He was unequipped to deal with life, and after the incident he’s confronted with the terror of knowing what this world is about. It’s watching some good friends screaming: ‘Let me out!’ And how does he cope? He prays that tomorrow he’ll get higher, higher, high. Drugs,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He looks quite intense even though he’s talking absolute shit again.

(Also: “Are you going to celebrate with the Prime Minister, Lawliet-san? What do you think he’ll wear?” L stops as if this is a very important question and his smile and compulsive blinking fills me with dread. “Hope… hopefully…” he struggles, as though he’s trying to contain himself. Oh my God. Hopefully nothing? I stand up to shout at the TV. “Don’t say it, you bastard, don’t say it!”)

Anyway, the story his full of gems like that and it makes L weirdly likeable, even though he’s such a little shit.

4. Actually, let’s talk about this: I’ve rarely seen a character who’s such a complete and utter asshole in a way that allows you to still enjoy his presence. And I hate it when the narrative tries to force us to like some edgy, lame dude who’s forgiven for all the shit he does because he’s sexy and vaguely funny. But I never got the feeling that we were supposed to excuse anything shitty L does, mainly because he’s the love interest of someone just as horrible. You completely get why they are in love with each other, it’s not some kind of a beauty and the beast story, or about one person trying to make their love interest a better person. How Light and L treat each other, is most of the time extremely selfish on both ends. They have some tender moments too, but their are also believable. Those!L is exactly how I like my bastards.

5. All of L’s, eh, mental breakdowns are incredibly well-written. I remember when I first read the chapter where his father died, and getting completely blindsided by how deep this character suddenly was. Honestly, the entire scene with Astbury… made me sick to my stomach. It wasn’t at all what I expected, but that’s another testament to how high-quality “Those” is. I felt like that a bit too after Stephen died. And I was absolutely in awe when I realised that his reaction made even more sense when you find out that L himself killed him. I’m just so thankful that I can read a story for free that’s written with so much love and care for a character who isn’t even the protagonist.

[welcometojoelsvoid]

Short Hair and Flower Crowns | Retold!AU

Another AU involving Lotus and @hoehoehoelt ‘s wonderful Danem’misaan Lavellan.

This AU’s basic storyline is that neither Lotus nor Denny had been forced into slavery and are living their own normal lives with their family and because their dads are friends they meet and becomes friends too. Also, they’re like 7 years old in this.

Name: Short hair and flower crowns 

Words: 2608

Characters: Lotus Draqon (creator: me), Danem’misaan Lavellan (creator: That Hoe Over There), Keilma and Eerik Draqon (creator: me),  Caelynn and Soveliss Lavellan (creator: feiwygadhhhhhhoe)

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Warnings/Additional tags: This is probably the cutest thing I’ve ever written, platonic soulmates meet for the first time, kids being adorable, mentions of racism/discrimination, there’s a really cute drawing in there somewhere so prepare yourself, also I pretty much let me ADD run free in this because I felt like it fit since this is from very young Lotus’ POV k thanks byyyyeee

Author’s Note: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

((apologies for any typos or grammar mistakes, my dyslexic ass is feeling extra illiterate today and my grammar app doesn’t always pick up all the mistakes, try to enjoy regardless and also ily hoe slay like a bitch ass queen woof))

-------------------

The Draqon family was known for their kindness and moral value, a wealthy household of a humble man, his family and staff. The name itself didn’t have further meaning than that, at least in the beginning. A small baby, not older than a few months, had been left at their doorstep with a bouquet of lotus flowers. Lady Draqon had always wanted a child and this provided the perfect opportunity. This child, however, was not a usual one. With purple scales, claws, tail, red horns and a magenta eye to match the family name. For the time being, the lady of the house called the baby her lotus flower since no actual name had yet to be given. They tried many names for their new family member but nothing seemed to feel right, so Lady Draqon had set the nickname she gave the baby in stone; he would be known as Lotus. 

The Draqon household was located in Saimvinmaa, just about a 4-day boat trip from Thedas. Saimvinmaa is a lush place in a colder climate with beautiful forests and lakes and even more beautiful towns and cities. The head of the household, Lord Draqon, went on a business trip to Thedas and on his journey he met an amusing fellow, the father of the Lavellan family. Draqon had invited Lavellan over to his home when his trip was coming to an end and, after finding out about Lavellan having his own family, encouraged him to take his child and wife along.

Lotus and his mother had gotten a letter from Lord Draqon about the arrival of him and his guests, Lotus' mother had immediately begun preparations; cleaning, preparing the guestrooms, going out to buy more food supply. Meanwhile, Lotus didn’t seem too excited, rather nervous actually, never before really properly met other people or even befriended other kids. The language wasn’t an issue, he knew common just fine, he was just very awkward with social situations. Growing up different was a challenge, yes, everyone is different but being the way Lotus is is beyond the lines of too different. He’s gotten used to the looks he gets when he walks around town, it doesn’t bother him as much anymore. He just wished they’d have the courtesy to even try to hide it. Ever since he was old enough to understand words his mother warned him about intolerant people and reminded him of his family’s love for him. It got him thinking, how would his father’s new friends react to him? Did they know? Would his father really bring intolerant people into their house? He had mentioned, in his letter, that the Lavellans were farmers, they lived with animals and took care of them. Lotus always wanted a pet, like a cat or a dog, but he could never get too close to a cow or a horse. In truth, he was scared of horses, they’re big and loud and freak out easily. He didn’t like horses.

It was too late to worry about it now, the horse carriage carrying his father and his guests was already in view as it approached the front doors of the manor. Lotus and his mother were waiting for them side by side along with a few maids. As the carriage stopped in front of them and the doors were opened, the maids went for the luggage and excused themselves, while Lady Draqon went to greet her husband with hug and kiss, letting him introduce her to the Lavellans.

"And this is my son Lotus; my pride and my joy." Lord Draqon smiled as he put his hand on Lotus' shoulder, his mother petting his hair gently. Lotus regarded the elven couple with caution. The mother approached him slowly and crouched down to his level, still at a comfortable arm's reach, she had long, braided auburn hair and markings covering her face like the father did but had freckles underneath and kind blue eyes. "Hello there, Lotus! My, what lovely hair you have! It's very nice to meet you," she said, speaking calmly as to not startle him. She smiled as Lotus muttered out a quiet thank you, standing up and straightening her clothes. "Your father has told a lot about you, Lotus. He says you're quite the artist." The father looked to be younger than his own with medium-length, brown hair styled in a ponytail and neatly trimmed facial hair, his eyes were hazel. Lotus nodded and his eyes wandered to the child standing beside the eleven man, clutching his hand. The boy looked like his father but had freckles and blue eyes like his mother. "This is Danem'misaan, he's rather shy as well. Spends most of his time reading outside. Do you read, Lotus?" Another nod. "Ma reads to me most of the time, I like the ones where they go on adventures," he said, a little more at ease. His mother patted his hair again and smiled, "Shall we go in? You must be tired from your trip. Dinner will be ready in a few moments," she said, welcoming the visitors into their home, telling her husband to show them around while she goes to assist the kitchen staff. Lotus' father guided the guests around till they reached the living room, offering them a seat and ushering the kids to go play.

Lotus exited the room through the open glass doors that led outside, halting to see if the other was following. He led them to the backyard. It had large patches of grass with a fountain and platforms, a lake, a forest and it was filled with different flowers. The silence was awkward as they walked beside each other. What were they supposed to talk about? What did kids talk about with each other? Lotus often hang around the kitchen and talked to the maids about what they were doing, asked what they were making, if he could have a taste of the pie. He didn't know what he's supposed to say.

"Are your scales real?" Lotus side-eyed the other, brows furrowed, "What?" "What about your horns?" He asked again, "Are they real? Can I touch them?" The boy reached his hand to touch one of the small horns on Lotus' head but was stopped by him dodging. "S-stop that!" He yelled and hopped back as the boy tried again. "Yes, they're real but you can't touch!' Lotus glared at the other. "Sorry, your horns are just really cool," he said as he lowered his head, rubbing his arm. Lotus was taken aback. Cool? No one had ever called his horns cool. Most people whispered behind his back about it being a shame he looks the way he does. Compliments and reassurance about his looks came mostly from his family. "It's fine, just- just don't do it again." The boy nodded and they continued walking till they reached a patch of grass with a bunch of white flowers blossoming on it and sat down next to each other. "Your name is Lotus, right? Like the flower?" The boy asked, squinting as the sun shone brightly in the sky. "Yeah. I can't remember your name." He raked his claws through the grass, picking at the flowers. "It's Danem'misaan," the boy said, picking a few flowers himself. "You have a long name," Lotus commented, twirling a flower between his fingers as he watched curiously as to what the other boy was up to. "People call me Danem sometimes." He mused, twisting the flowers together, not paying much mind to Lotus following the movements of his hands with his own. "Can I call you Denny?" He nodded with a quiet 'sure', more focused on the flowers in his hands.

Lotus watched intensely as Denny worked, trying to copy what he was doing but not succeeding as well. Lotus looked at his own creation, comparing it to Denny's, who's honestly looked much better. He huffed, "No fair! How do you do that so easily?" 

He whined as he set down the poor excuse of a flower crown on the ground. Denny laughed as he told about it taking a lot of time to get right and how many times he couldn't do it either. He walked Lotus through the process slowly, guiding his hands and reminding him to be aware of his claws and not to pull too harshly. The two continued in pleasant silence as they crafted their crowns, enjoying the decent weather.

A moment passed before Lotus spoke up again, thinking his words through. "Do you know what heriviö means?" He asked, tilting his head to look at the other, who in turn shook his head. "It means monster in Saimvi. I've heard people call me that, especially the other kids. They never want to play with me because I'm scary and weird." His voice was hushed as he spoke slowly, fidgeting with the decent but still scratched flower crown in his hands. "I don't think you're scary and weird. I think you're cool." A compliment; simple words that meant something more, words Lotus wasn't used to, words that were hard to accept. Words that somehow needed more proof than insults. “The people here talk about me a lot,” Lotus said, “They talk about how my clothes are dirty, how I act weird and how my hair is tangled. and messy.” “Do you think that’s true?” Denny regarded his flower crown, carefully made and pretty. Lotus shook his head, “No. At least not all of it. My hair isn’t messy, it’s just hard to keep it not so messy looking.” His hand played with the two small braids of hair. “My Ma says my hair is really fluffy and thick, that that’s why it looks like this.” Denny looked up at the sky in thought, “You could cut it short, like really short,” he suggested. Lotus looked at him as if he said something revolutionary. “I-I could?” He pawned at his own hair. The other boy nodded and shrugged, “Sure, why not?” He looked back at his flower crown and reached over to put in on Lotus’ head. “Whatever you decide, I think it’s pretty.” Lotus continued to stare at Denny, his face pink. He looked away at the blue sky, “Why not...” he repeated under his breath.

The hours went by quickly, after dinner Lotus, Denny and their mothers went on a walk around town. The weather was warmer and the sky was clear, so a small trip ought to be nice.

“You know Caelynn, my mother lived on a farm when she was a young girl.” “Oh, really?” “Yes! Mother was quite the woman, she was crazy about archery and was rather great at it too.” Lotus’ mother’s family came from Räive, a countryside area in Eastern-Saimvinmaa, and she had always been proud of her roots. She often told Lotus stories of his grandmother, Mijakki-Laera, who was known in her time as a very adventurous young lady who eventually stole the heart of a nobleman, Eerik. They travelled to Tymijärne where they settle down in Draqon estate and started a family. “Me and my sisters, Lietso and Herji, were a group of troublemakers in our youth.” she laughed as she told stories of her childhood and how she was quite the heartbreaker until she finally fell in love with the young, reckless son of a fellow noble family who shared her father's name. “You truly are a peach, Keilma!” Both mothers laughed and shared stories as their sons walked in front of them. Lotus and Denny were walking side by side, Lotus answering the various questions Denny had about the town, albeit most of the answers were along the lines of “I don’t know” and “I can’t remember”. The group walked for a while more before turning back, surely Eerik and Soveliss were already missing their presence.

The rest of the day they spent chatting and telling stories, they ate supper outside in the garden, drinking tea, ale and milk and eating fish, potatoes and bread. They laughed, joked and smiled, enjoying their time together, toasting to a beautiful, blooming friendship and bond between families. Eventually, the sun set behind the horizon and Lady Draqon ushered everyone to their rooms, tucking Lotus and Denny into their beds and bidding goodnights. Lotus’ room wasn’t huge, but it was bigger than Denny’s and very pretty too. He had many stuffed animals, books, wooden carvings, clothing and the walls had beautifully painted murals. Lotus told him the murals were painted by his mother a few years ago and he had helped and painted some himself, which showed. He wasn’t bad but there was a difference between Lotus’ and his mother’s work. She had been really proud of him that day, Lotus clearly showed signs of having a creative artist’s mind. She herself painted as a hobby and also cooked, baked and sewed. His father was a good cook as well and was very poetic.

The morning came and the Lavellan family was packing their belongings, Denny and Lotus spent the last few hours of their time connected at the hip, not ready to say goodbye just yet. The two children were lying in the same patch of grass as the day before, looking up at the fluffy clouds in the sky. “I don’t want you to go yet,” Lotus said after a moment of peaceful quiet. “Yeah,” Denny sighed. “Me neither.” The silence prolonged and turned into minutes until Lotus sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. “We’re best friends... right?” Denny followed suit, tilting his head. “Yeah, of course.” Lotus turned his head to look at the other, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were piercing, “And we’ll continue being friends even if we’re far apart?” Denny nodded as the atmosphere around them changed, it wasn’t one of sorrow anymore, it was one of determined hearts and minds; a promise of forever between young souls. “Danem, Love, your mother is asking for you!” Lotus’ mother called out from the back door and approached Lotus as the other child bid his thank yous and farewells, turning to say goodbye to Lotus as well. Keilma sat down next to her son on the grass, hand petting at his hair, bringing him into a hug as she rocked him back and forth. Small sniffles could be heard coming from the child. “Goodbyes are always difficult, I know, Love, I know.” She kissed the top of his head before gently taking the child’s small face into her hand, wiping the tears away with her thumb. “You’ll get to see him again someday. It may take a while, but you will.” Lotus jerked away from his mother, “I forgot!” He yelled out, standing up in a hurry, his mother giving him a questioning look. “I need to tell Denny something important!” He said before bolting towards the front yard, not wanting to waste time finding his way out through the halls of his house. The Lavellans were boarding the carriage at the gates. “Denny!” Lotus yelled out with his hands cupped around his mouth, “Denny!!” The boy in question turned his head towards the sound just as he was about to climb in. “I wanted to let you know that- that the next time we meet I’ll have short hair!!” He was smiling through his words and waved at his friend who returned the smile with his own and held up his thumb. “You can keep the flower crown! Wear it a lot cuz you look really pretty in it!” Denny yelled back and disappeared into the carriage with his family. Lotus was joined by his mother and father, all waving their new friends goodbye. 

Lotus couldn’t wait to get his hair cut.

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 8

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

Luke jumped out of the driver’s seat, coming around to help Penelope climb down. He kept one arm around her waist, and grabbed Roxy’s leash with the other. A smile on his face, he led them around the corner of the building, to the cute white gate that led to the outdoor seating area. Holding the gate open, he led her onto the patio under the quaint flower-covered arbor. A waitress materialized, and led them to a table for four. The patio was fairly empty; only one other couple, in their fifties or sixties, with a poodle sleeping in a chair occupied the far corner. Luke pulled out a chair for Penelope, and once she was seated, rounded the table to his own. He clipped Roxy’s leash to the chair leg with the carabiner on the end, and the sweet dog settled down underneath it. 

“Here’s your menus. I’ll be back in a moment to take y’all’s drink order,” the waitress said with a flirty grin. It seemed she had no sooner sashayed away then she reappeared at the table. The young waitress was extremely attentive, and Penelope noticed that the younger girl was pretty, in an “All-American cheerleader” way. Her long brunette hair was pulled into a high ponytail. It fell straight down her back until the last three or four inches formed into perfect ringlets near her lower back. She had bright blue eyes, framed by what appeared to be false eyelashes.

Penelope probably wouldn’t have taken such close notice of the woman’s appearance, except that the woman kept finding reasons to touch Luke. When she’d sat them, she briefly touched his hand as she gestured to the table and asked if it was acceptable. A few moments later she had now placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder as she inquired if they would like coffee and water to start. Penelope was sure the woman found Luke attractive, with the way she kept batting her eye lashes and flashing her dimples. 

Penelope tried not to let on that the woman’s obvious flirting bothered her. She and Luke made small talk, looking over the menu between sips of coffee and observations about the ambiance of the garden and the lovely weather. However, she couldn’t seem to completely push down her insecurity and annoyance at the feeling that the waitress clearly didn’t look at them as a couple.  She tried not to let it bother her but she was fairly certain her smile was becoming just a bit strained and her laughter was a bit forced. 

After several minutes, the waitress returned to take their order. “What can I get for you, handsome?” she asked with a wink. Luke continued to smile, but he tilted his head a little and paused. “I think we’d like an order of the French toast to share, and then I’d like the huevos rancheros with bacon on the side and some extra salsa. And my girlfriend will have the eggs benedict, with avocado substituted for the ham- she is a vegetarian. Chica, you wanted the hash browns, right Baby?” He asked, looking at Penelope with heated eyes, reaching out and taking her hand across the table as he spoke. 

Penelope was speechless. She closed her jaw, staring back at Luke in confusion, and merely nodded her head in response to his question. Did he just call her his girlfriend? Wait, what? Why would he have said that?

Before Penelope could even wrap her mind around what has just happened, and why Luke had said what he had, she heard the waitress say, “Certainly,” in a clipped tone. The woman’s smile was entirely gone, and she turned and strode away to the kitchen briskly. 

In a moment, Luke was standing, “Could you please excuse me for a moment, Penny? I will be right back,” he said. Then Luke turned and walked in the same door the waitress had just disappeared into. Was he following the waitress? Had he regretted shutting down her flirting? Does he KNOW her somehow? Thoughts raced through Penelope’s head. Wait, he called her Penny. First, he calls her his girlfriend and then he calls her Penny for the first time, before jumping up, no explanation, and following the waitress. Maybe the man had lost it… as that seemed the only simple explanation.

Before Penelope could make any sense of what had just happened, Luke returned through the same door. Passing the chair he had been sitting in, he rounded the table and took the chair next to her, turning it at an angle so it still faced the table but also faced her. He settled in, leaning in close and kissing her swiftly. Taking her hand, he began to tell her a story of one of fugitives he and Roxy had hunted down. 

“So, we were fairly certain that after escaping prison he would head back to the Emporia area. Although the man had hunted across 6 different states, all the bodies were left along the turnpike near his childhood home in Kansas. The man’s favorite diner had proved his undoing. We knew from interviewing some family and a previous cell mate that Stephens had carried a torch for a busty brunette waitress that worked there and her pies before he got locked up. I ate there 3 meals a day, 3 weeks in a row- one greasy cheeseburger after another till I thought I’d die of a heart attack before he finally appeared. I was almost certain that our hunch had been wrong, when finally he grew careless and gave in to his urges. He showed up, and finished up his chocolate crème pie with a set of metal bracelets and a trip to federal prison,” Luke chuckled. “I’ve got many stories more exciting, but that fugitive hunt was definitely the most delicious. Mizz Lizzie baked a mean pie,” Luke said, smiling winsomely.

As he spoke, Luke continued touching her: tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, rubbing a hand down her shoulder and lower back, twining his fingers between hers and rubbing his thumb across her wrist and back of her hand. Penelope turned her body towards him, reveling in the feel of each touch, and laughed at his story. He sure could spin a tale. It was amazing how much emotion and passion he conveyed through his facial expressions and tone of voice. Most vivid storytellers speak with their hands, but his delivery was controlled and his movements and gestures always deliberate. She thought back to the time Luke had found her crying, after Reid was hurt in prison. He hadn’t touched her really, hadn’t moved his hands from his pockets, yet he’d conveyed such concern and such support. Not that he didn’t gesture or even touch her when it was needed; He had put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulders when Reid was denied bail, and again when she’d found Stephen after the crash.

Suddenly, Penelope realized that while she’d been lost in thought she’d just been staring into his eyes, and he had ceased talking and was doing the same. Penelope couldn’t read his expression. Before she could apologize for her wandering mind and bad manners, Luke softly asked, “Penny, what are you thinking about?” 

Thankfully, before she had to construct a believable lie or confess the embarrassing truth that she was thinking about all the times he’s touched her, a waiter brought the food out to them. 

“Here we go you two,” he said, sliding a few plates in front of them. “We’ve got the French toast, huevos rancheros with bacon, eggs benedict with no ham, add avocado. I’ve got a side of hash browns and some extra salsa, and maple syrup. Do y’all need some ketchup, or we’ve also got blueberry syrup or orange marmalade if you’d prefer for the French toast?” the tall, blonde man asked. 

“Thank you so much, this is perfect,” Luke responded. “Can we get a bit more coffee, and then two sides of Nutella for the French toast? I’ve heard that is your most popular topping.”

“Sure thing, coming right up,” the waiter replied. “Oh, and my name is Alex. I will be right back with the coffee and the Nutella, and if you need anything else I will be checking in on you periodically,” he finished. He strode away from the table. 

“Nutella, really?” Penelope squealed! “How’d you know I like Nutella?” Luke smiled, stifling a laugh. “Oh, I remember you contemplating murder when Reid ate your Nutella and banana sandwich out of the fridge. And I saw the Costco-sized jar you have in the cabinet. Seemed like a safe bet. Plus, who wouldn’t enjoy a rich, smooth, chocolatey spread on French toast?” Luke asked in a teasing voice, grinning over his mug of coffee.

Penelope smiled back. “Well, thanks. You’re a pretty great date, Newbie,” she said, purposefully drawing out the word as she picked up her fork and cut a piece of egg and avocado on English muffin and placing it into her mouth. Luke smiled, turning and taking a bite of his own eggs slathered in salsa. They each took a few more bites of their respective food, before feeding the other a few bites of their own food- Penelope offering Luke a bite of eggs benedict, followed by a bite of perfectly crunchy hash browns and Luke offering her a bite of cheesy, spicy eggs and tortilla. 

A moment later, the friendly waiter returned with the sides of Nutella and refilled their coffee. He checked that they were satisfied, before disappearing again and leaving them to their cozy meal. Penelope and Luke tried the French toast with the chocolatey spread, both finding it absolutely decadent. They took turns feeding each other bites of the sweet bread, dipped into the melty, rich spread. 

A small bit of the Hazelnut Chocolate sauce dripped off the bite Luke placed into her mouth, landing on the edge of Penelope’s lip. Luke leaned down, placing his lips close to hers, and sensually licked the spilled chocolate. “Mmmmm, sweet,” he moaned. Penelope giggled, but then moaned softly as Luke pulled her close and crushed his lips to hers.

Soon they were entangled in a passionate kiss. Penelope’s arms were wrapped around his neck, her hands fisted in his hair. His hands were on her hips and lower back, pulling her closer to him and exploring the tempting curves she offered. They probably would have continued until the food had grown ice cold, had Roxy not barked at a passing squirrely. Embarrassed they sprang apart, both laughing at how easily they got lost in their own little world of passion. 

They finished their meal, thanking Alex as Luke paid the bill. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Luke led his two girls out of the patio and into the park next to the restaurant. They walked Roxy, giving her a chance to use the bathroom. Luke stopped and bagged her mess, throwing it away in a conveniently placed trash receptacle. After a fifteen-minute stroll around the park, enjoying the cool, early-autumn breeze and warm sunshine, they returned to the truck. As they got in and pulled back onto the road, Penelope turned to Luke and asked, “So what’s up next?”

Luke pulled the truck to a stop at the red light, and turned and looked at her. “Oh gorgeous, I’m keeping it a surprise. What would be the fun in spoiling it by telling you what’s next?” he asked, a happy, lopsided grin on his face. Penelope shook her head. What had she gotten herself into?

[vitanteactawrites]

Sometimes Two Isn’t Enough, Part IV

Fandom: Supernatural / AU

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel 

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2,281

Part: Four [part one, two, three]

Warnings: None!

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long guys, but here it is! We’ve finally started to dig in a little deeper and discover who the reader is, so enjoy! On a side note, I’m on vacation for a week but plan on taking a good old notebook and pen with me to try and get some stuff done. Next weeks chapter will be a little late, but expect a hunt and more information on who the reader is.

Despite the fact that the gentle lull of the Impala’s engine had put you to sleep, when it cut, you hardly stirred. Which was why your brows furrowed in sleep muddled confusion as fingers dusted hair from your eyes. With a soft grumble, your hand moved to bat away whatever had disturbed you, the other tugging Dean’s borrowed jacket closer to your shoulders. And while your sleep addled brain could hear the deep chuckle, your body still insisted on curling deeper into the soft leather of the back seat, chin nuzzling into the jacket within your grasp.

But the hair in your face was pushed back once more, this time accompanied by a gruff whisper of your name. Upon the realization that someone was going to insist on waking you regardless of any effort you put forth in attempt to avert it, you sleepily opened and squinted your eyes at the figure before you. Only once Dean was firmly in focus did your lips curl slightly.

“Sorry - are we stopping again for the night?”

You could tell that it was late afternoon by the light seeping through the windows of the vehicle, and despite the fact that there were potentially hours’ worth of open road ahead of you, you’d been quick to learn that the Winchesters had been taking you into consideration. You knew little about the past, which made driving for a long distance seem uncomfortable. More than once the three of you had stopped around dinner and stayed put, effectively making your trip to safety a little longer, but also much more comfortable.

“We’re here.”

The two words were enough for any lingering exhaustion to be wiped away and replaced with interest. Scooting across the seat, you carefully exited the Impala, offering Dean his jacket back in the process. You felt… nervous. This was, as Dean had once put it, their home. Or as Sam had put it, home base. Putting two and two together hadn’t been hard. One of them was your soulmate, which meant that this - at least for the time being - would be your home as well. Lacking any real memory, this place was your first home, which made it that much more important and special.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Inside. He figured it shouldn’t take two of us to wake you, so he brought everything in.”

Though your gaze had drifted to look at Dean as he spoke, it didn’t take long for you to offer a soft hum of acceptance at his words, eyes turning to the outside of the bunker. And it wasn’t just the exterior building you took in, but the surrounding woods, the roadway, everything.

You aren’t sure how long you lose yourself in your thoughts, but it’s a gentle brush of knuckles against the back of your hand that has you thrown back into focus. The surprised look you throw Dean is enough to put you both on edge, as he’s quick to withdraw his hand and awkwardly run it up the back of his neck instead.

“We - we better not keep Sam waiting. He might think something got us and send out the search party.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, one you mentally kick yourself for immediately, but it propels you toward the first doorway in your sight.

The moment you step into the bunker, your feet draw to an immediate halt - causing Dean to nearly barrel right into you. The scuffling of feet as Dean braces his hand against the rail and carefully steady’s you both is enough to draw Sam’s attention from below. It’s likely the look of complete awe on your features that has the grin of pride and the bubble of laughter escaping his throat.

“I had the same expression when I first saw this place too. Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

He was right, you would get used to it eventually, because this place was going to be your home, which was perhaps the reason you’d stopped and just…  stared. They’d built it up to be something because they had memories in this place - they’d established themselves there, and every time they’d spoken of it on the drive, you’d been under the assumption that you’d come to love it because they did. You’d assumed there would be touches of them, but that it would need some of you too - and you were right, it would - but it still seemed perfect.

You weren’t sure when Sam had moved to stand at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you with a small sense of pride shining in his eyes, and that beautiful grin on his face, but once again it was enough to propel you forward.

“I - I know you stumbled upon this place yourselves and have since discovered more about it as time passes but I - may I have a tour?”

It seemed to be the perfect question to ask, because within moments Dean shucked the jacket you’d returned to the back of a chair and the two brothers sprung into action. The three of you moved through each room at the pace you set, and while they provided as much information as they could about each room - whether it be the initial intended purpose of the room, their use of it, or their experience with cases or memories involved in the space, some question always pushed past your lips. Your interest in their home seemed enough for one brother to begin a story or thought, and the other to pick up on it. It was an action you’d believed others might have perceived as rude -- as if they were interrupting one another, but the exchange of looks, of small shrugs and grins was enough to tell you that, while not completely normal, it was something they would accept.

Once you’d returned to the main living space, the walls lined with books and the floor littered with an array of tables and chairs, Dean gave you once last long look before muttering something about cleaning his gun and unpacking. You watched him leave before turning to look at Sam expectantly. Dean had been reluctant, which meant they’d made some sort of deal about spending time with you.

“So these are the books you’ve been telling me all about? The ones filled with lore, and theories… history?” You asked, eyebrow arching slightly.

“Uh- aha ya.” Running a hand over the back of his neck, Sam’s gaze was quick to move from you to the shelves surrounding you.

“I’m not sure I remember, let alone know how to read,” you mutter, brow furrowing slightly in silent question as to whether or not that’s something you should really be ashamed of, “but could you show me some of the books maybe?”

Sometime during your question, your eyes had moved from Sam out of nervousness, instead taking in the lengthy shelves and surrounding area, so when an answer wasn’t offered forth immediately, you nearly cringed. Swallowing the lump of discomfort that was forming in your throat, you dared to look at him. There was a conflicting look on his face, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Sam was quick to snap out of it, his head dipping into a succession of nods.

“Yeah - yeah uh I’ll show you some of my favorites.” There is a quick flash of a smile, but the hesitation in his eyes was still prevalent. “And if for some reason you can’t read… then I’ll teach you. Just - just like I’m sure Dean would - will - teach you about hunting or cars or whatever else you want to learn.”

Your lips quirked - only slightly - into the smallest of smiles. “Thanks Sam. I’d really appreciate that.”

Time passed after that, but you found it hard to distinguish whether it was flying or creeping by. You were relieved to note that most words on the pages of the books Sam showed you, as well as a select few you pulled out yourself, held real meaning. There were a few you asked for clarification on, some Sam pointed out as being newer, or slang, others even he was uncertain on. At some point during your trek around the large room, Dean had reemerged. Seated within one of the more comfortable of the chairs with his feet propped up and a beer in his hand, he busied himself with looking for cases on the computer. But it wasn’t long before you caught him watch you pursue the endless number of books, his lips quirking into a smile that seemed the vanish the second he caught either you or Sam watching him.

“What’s the most unique book you have?” The question is perhaps the first words that have truly broken the silence within the bunker in the last hour, but they seem much needed. Particularly because of the silent conversation Sam and Dean appear to be having via looks and facial expressions can either be a good, or terribly bad thing.

“Oh. Well, the Men of Letters have a few odd books - but most of them we’ve managed to translate. Kevin,  or Castiel can handle most anything we throw at them, but there’s one that neither can crack. Castiel claims it’s older than most Angels.”

You glanced between the two brothers, eyebrow arching slightly.

“And you have this thing here? Can I see it?”

A few minutes later, you were seated at one of the tables, a stone tablet in your hands, and a few thin pieces of parchment beside it.

“We assume someone transferred it from stone to paper a few hundred years ago, but outside of a folder and box with a bunch of question marks, there isn’t much too it.” Sam informed, seating himself opposite you.

You gave him a mildly impressed look before your eyes dropped to the tablet in front of you. Within seconds your brows were crinkling together, a frown tugging at your lips.

“What do you mean Castiel couldn’t read this?” With a glance at the Winchesters, you returned to the papers.

Deans attention waned from the laptop in his lap to looking at you fully, eyebrows arched and beer long forgotten.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it isn’t that hard to read. It’s about the Daughter of God. It’s pretty vague, but the writer keeps calling this Daughter of God her mother.” You muttered, glancing up.

Before either Winchester can open their mouth to say anything, there is a faint flutter of wings before a man appears at the top of the stairs.

This time, you were certain time slowed. All senses but sight dulled - the sound of the brothers greeting or your chair knocking back as it hit the floor were both vague and distant. The man at the stairs appeared directly in front of you, his seemingly stoic face crinkled in confusion.

“Stay back, Angel.”

The threat ripped from your throat in a near growl, one that seemed to shock the entire room back into motion.

“Y/N. Y/N!” The hands pressing against your arms and then moving to cup your face are what drew you back completely into focus. With reluctance, your eyes ripped from the unidentified man to Dean’s, whose expression was no longer masked but shined bright with worry.

“That’s Castiel, okay? He’s a friend.”

The words ought to have reassured you, but instead your eyes flickered back to look at Castiel, the frown returning to your face.

“Y/N here uh - she can read that tablet.” Sam interjected, clearing his throat awkwardly as a hand motioned over toward the table.

“She is not human.”

Scoffing softly, you gave your head a shake, trying to get around Dean to no avail. “Someone has brilliant observation skills; shall we test out your theory?”

Deans face appeared in front of your almost immediately, his hands leaving your face to grip your arms and direct you back a few steps.

“Y/N. What is with the hostility?”

“You keep telling me that Lucifer - the man who apparently held me against my will and used me against you, the man who I apparently hate to the point of wanting to destroy him - is or was also an Angel at some point or another. You may trust him, but I don’t.”

It was enough for his grip to loosen around you. With a few steps, you were back to where you’d been standing before, eyes narrowing onto the trench coated man as Sam explained who you were, and what you’d found.

“That would explain it. Your presence releases an aura of power, like the essence of God after he leaves a place.” Castiel muttered, gaze turning from the tablet to look at you.

“The Daughter of God is as close to an urban legend as the Angels have. Did the tablet mention who might have transcribed it?”

“Emma.” The reply is as brief as you can make it, and from the tense set of Castiel’s shoulders, you realize he is just as unsettled by your presence as you are his.

“Very well, I’ll return to Heaven and begin the search immediately.”

Without waiting for confirmation, there is a flapping of wings and he is gone. A look is exchanged between yourself and the Winchesters before you sigh and give your head a shake.

“That’s Cas for you.” Sam muttered.

“Come on, I’ll make us some dinner.” Dean replied, turning on his heel to disappear into the kitchen. With one last exchanged look between you and Sam, you offered a shrug and followed Dean.

[leesungjongg]

BTIMFL Review

This is long and it goes from Negative to Positive, and then to Negative... and then to Positive. I guess you’ll see if you decide to read it. Also it’s very long. warning. Also it’s disorganized and i don’t have time to spam the drama for now but i will later just a warning ok also spoilers and this is just my opinion you don’t have to agree with it. here it is:

warning: rape mention. there was an attempted rape in the drama itself and i talk a little bit about it near the end of the review. just so u know

It was an okay drama. I probably wouldn’t watch it again though, because there were a lot of things that I still had questions about and although the ending was nice, it was not that great, in my opinion. When I was reading the captions/subtitles when Jiho was talking (whether it was the background voice or just her speaking), half the time I ended up not even understanding anything she was saying and I started zoning out .-. Of course, there were cute scenes and scenes that made me smile. There were also scenes where it hurt my heart and I teared up at (like when Sooji’s mom told her that her legs were holding Sooji back from being with her boyfriend LIKE THAT SCENE UGH. MY HEART.) Cute scenes where Jiho was smiling and everything made me really happy :’))))) honestly idek why she decided to terminate the contract bc she twisted and turned with her words so much that i got lost and i was like man, i need a new GPS system. Anyways. The characters were great! The plot? the storyline...???? idk. the scenes also cut off weirdly. everything about this drama is weird. even the whole contract that Sehee and Jiho made to live together/get married and have like nothing else... that was weird. I told my friend and she was like “marriages are more like contracts of loyalty rather than contracts of businesses” and although it wasn’t a business... it wasn’t... i guess it was for loyalty? man idek what im talking about. it was weird that’s all i have to say. what really tugged my heartstrings was when Jiho came back and Sehee was like “no ur just a dream, this is so cruel. but i love this dream, please never leave” aND LIKE JIHO SAW HIM CRY LIKE BRUHHHHHH SAME HERE MAN I WAS LIKE UGHFHFHHHHH JIHO!!!!! my love :( seriously... Jiho... idk who plays Jiho but i remembered her from D Day and in this drama she looks so beautiful. ok here comes the positives im so excited. the lighting... especially the lighting when it came onto Jiho’s eyes (or anyone’s really) WAS SO. PRETTY. WTFFFFFFF honestly she’s so beautiful. I loved her hairstyle, I want to draw her. I suck at drawing but literally @Jiho ur my muse now. i loved the hair and makeup and the lighting so soooo much in the drama. I loved Jiho’s pink coat at the end of the drama, and I surprisingly liked her wedding gown at the beginning of the drama when they first got married. I love Jiho’s shy smiles, she looked like an actually bunny!!! I love everything about her! ok maybe im talking about the actress more than the character BUT STILL. she’s so pretty ;(( Sehee’s pretty cool. Everytime he made a facial expression, I found it hilarious bc he was always keeping the same face in every episode. Idk how he did it. but he’s amazing. i loved when CEO Ma came up behind him and was about to surprise him but then he said Jungmin? AND SEHEE LITERALLY SCREAMED AND ALMOST KILLED CEO MA ok maybe not that far but he almost whacked him in the face lol. the way he got surprised made me laugh. throughout most of the drama though, he had red eyes and from my experience, everytime i’ve had red eyes is when i havent slept enough... i hope the actor who plays him gets a lot more sleep :( CEO Ma. I love him so much. One of my favorite characters. He was so pure honestly and he deserved everything. I’m glad he was there for Sooji, and everything he did for her. It was weird because Sooji didnt want him to intrude on her life but he did it anyway, and in such a romantic way too? I thought he’d be somewhat annoying about it but he was sincere and such a gentleman. Love u CEO Ma. Please continue on your being nice path. Sooji. Very harsh, difficult... she scared me at times. But I loved how badass she was. i would probably be afraid to approach her but i would love to have her as a friend. she’s tough, but sometimes i think she needs a break from life ;( glad she started her own business and quit her job (even though i would’ve loved to see her quit sooner and have a flourishing business) Wonseok.... and Horang :(((((((((((( SERIOUSLY RELATIONSHIP GOALS. Despite the arguing THEY WERE SO CUTE TOGETHER. I loved them so much. It was so weird when they broke up and it felt so wrong, but they got back together in the end... it was weird. like i said, this whole drama is weird. BUT MINSEOK PLAYED IN THIS AHHHH GOOD JOB MINSEOK!!!! Horang is literally gorgeous. so so beautiful, and her smile BLINDS you, god. she’s so pretty. Overall, this drama was okay. ALSO OMG I FORGOT TO MENTION Bok Nam. he’s kinda cute. i wished Lee Hyunwoo played him. he’s adorable in my eyes. Bok Nam was really fishy at the start with him knowing everything SO I WAS SO SURPRISED WHEN HE WASNT THE KIDNAPPER WTF? dude u played that part so well, good JOB. i fell for it. we all fell for it. anyways, at the beginning the drama, Jiho was in a group where she was the assistant writer and honestly i didnt understand anything that she went through with her writing and stuff, all i know is that 1) she wasnt enjoying her position because the other writer kept crossing everything out on her story and making it her own, 2) the guy who had flirted with her for three years and got a FRICKING GIRLFRIEND ended up almost raping her while he was drunk like you deserve to eat dirt. good bye. glad Se hee kicked his ass at the end of the drama (which also made me angry because WOW. it took THIS long for him to come and apologize AND THAT HE SAID HE DIDNT MEAN TO?? WHAT?!!?! son u had every intention of doing that to her that night dont u even dare cover it up with any bs excuse, ur poop now) and to bring back the third point, 3) the writing team tried to get Jiho back WITH HER FRICKING RAPIST AND SHE DECLINED I WAS LIKE YES DONT DO THIS TO YOURSELF YOU DESERVE BETTER IM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!! overall. it was an okay drama. didn’t like the almost rape part. didnt like how the scenes were cut weirdly. didnt like how the contract was made and how jiho explained her way of things (even towards the end, her mom was like “i dont understand you” or smth and i was like omfg same thank goodness im not the only one), and didnt like how jiho explained the divorce. but the scenes where you could see sehee and jiho get closer together (the kimchi and the ocean and the looking forward to seeing your husband on the bus, waiting for you, saving a seat for you like son....... that’s so cuTEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! ALSO WOOSEOK AND HORANGS RELATIONSHIP. minus the bickering and the fact that Horang tried to change Wooseok.. being together 7 years and being happy for that long is amazing. i loved when wooseok called Horang Rang. it was so pretty. i love sooji’s and CEO MA OMG HE’S SO GREAT. I WOULD GIVE HIM EVERYTHING. So glad he was there for sooji. the characters and their relationships together were so great, i really liked it a lot. but the plot was just ahhh.... it could’ve been better. that’s all. i give it a 6.8/10. maybe a 7, but not quite a 7. thank u for reading. hope this mess makes sense :/

[dovah--kiin]

Time Alone

characters: fem human mage + zevran a little chat about love (cullen) and expectations 

Magic is not within the blood of dwarves. Oh, they have read about it -- dreamed about it, but cannot never own its gift: not even enough coins could grant this wish. However, now the masses can watch magic with their own eyes in their own kingdom. The gray warden -- Azura of the circle of magi -- has come for aid for the Blight. She has chosen the king of orammar with the help of Caridin -- the hand made crown now sits on the choose king.

The journey to the deep roads was long and exhausting for the entire team. Each member of the team took their leave after the crowning. Oghren took the fall of his latter wife very hard and excused himself to the local tavern for the night. Sten was standing guard of the library where Azura is entertaining people. His demeanor enough to keep many dwarves at a good distant as they watched the mage perform her magic. Zervan, stayed toward the door watching the others flock toward the warden.

Dagna, a local dwarf, had begged Azura to see some magic first hand. Azura, more than glad to share her talents, showed much. The warden was performing her various skills -- ice, fire, lightening, ward -- whatever the girl asked. Dagna was sitting in a stone chair making notes as Azura changed her magic from one element to the next.

“WOW! This is so amazing” Danga nearly squealed.

Azura only smiled a little -- the corners of her mouth turning upward. Tis a good sight to be appreciated instead of feared.

“Those are simple spells that any apprentice can handle,” Azura explained as she picked up her staff.  She walked out toward the opening of the library -- giving herself plenty of room. “This is what I have been trained to be.”

Azura closed her eyes and held onto her staff tightly. Then, the staff turned into a bright light and formed into the shape of a large sword. Azura turned her body to the left then the right, swinging her magical sword. Dagna sat with her eyes larger than before; clearly too distracted to make notes at the moment. The sword then turned into pure ice and Azura clenched her fist -- destroyed it and the sword returned the the wooden staff.

Dagna clapped her hands with a bright smile. Sten did not make a facial change but only a nod. My, tis a sight to see him give any thought toward magic. Zevran clapped as well with the slightest smirk on his tan face. Azura only bowed slightly at the claps.

“Thank you, but now I grow very weary. I hope you learned something from this Dagna.” Azura stated with a winded breath.

Dagna stood up with her stone tablet. “Oh yes! Thank you so much! I can’t wait to see other mages do this as well! Oh, I better go home and pack my bags. Thanks again!” Dagna ran out.

Azura only shook her head with a smile on her pale face. She turned to Sten.

“Kadan. What do you need?” Sten asked. Azura wished she knew what the phrase meant -- she has never studied qunlat. Perhaps she should start , maybe after The Blight.

“Can you check up on Oghren? He has been gone for a while and he left in a horrid mood. I do not wish anything bad to happen to him in his state of mind”, she explained to Sten. He only scoffed at her request.

“His mate was in the wrong. He should be thankful we corrected her actions,” he stated back in his emotionless tone. However, Azura was not phased by the tone.

“Please Sten,” she spoke softer. His strong gaze was on her almost white hues -- never leaving his. He let out an exhausted sigh. Ah, success.

“Yes...” he then turned and left the library.

Azura turned toward Zervan who was looking at her with those tempting yellow hues. She turned away from the gaze refusing to allow herself to fall for such a pathetic attempt. True, he was attractive enough but she does not like this game of cat and mouse they play. She pulled out a seat for herself and sat upon the stone. Truly, it is so uncomfortable but she was curious to their books about mages. She pushed her long raven hair behind her shoulders and turned her head in the opposite direction of him -- in a silent statement to Zervan to leave her.

“My dear, do you know what kadan means?” Zervan asked as he walked over to her.

“No, but I am certain you wish to indulge me with your knowledge?” Azura replied as she pulled a book about mages off the shelf. Zervan only smirked with a glint in her golden eyes.

“Oh, my dear, I wish to indulge you in my knowledge of many things. I assure you.” he said quickly so she could not interpret him -- the typical game they play.

Well, she fell into that trap, didn’t she?

Zervan sat in the chair next to her: a little too close for her comfort but she did not say anything. His golden eyes glued to her like a moth to the flame.

“Kadan means “where the heart lies” or in simple terms ‘friend’. But I do prefer ‘where the heart lies’, do you?”

Azura was surprised to hear this. She honestly did not think Sten saw her as an equal -- let alone a friend. It touched her heart in a way she never thought possible. She did not say anything for a moment --- just thinking to herself about the word kadan.

“I do as well,” she answered as she opened the book. The words were in dwarf language, but she had spent her youth in the circle studying other languages -- this would be a good chance the challenge herself. She began to read, or at least tried. She knew this would set a flame to Zervan because she was not engaging in conversation.

The assassin leaned closer to her to examine the book. “Ah. Did I offend you, my beauty? Do you wish I call you kadan as well? Kadan....Ka-dan...it does sound better when it leaves my lips, doesn’t it?”

Azura tried extremely hard to let any emotion, or dear say a blush, appear on her pale features. His accent is truly marvelous -- it is so smooth and clear with a hint of allure in it. Yet, she would never tell him. She keeps her gaze on the book. Her slender finger turning the pages ever so slowly.

Zervan pouts at his gesture. He leans even closer to her. Azura can smell him -- a hint of cinnamon, leather, and the cleanse of a day bath. Maker, she hoped she smelled just as nice.

“I did not know you could read other languages. Truly fantasizing -- you are truly a remarkable woman,” he stated as his finger traced the words in the book. His fingers dancing a little too close to hers.

A compliment and a good one at that. She does pride herself in her knowledge, that is for certain. Yet, she refuses to give into this game they have played since she spared his life. He did look so pathetic that day -- bloody and beaten but still has flirty as usual. It was this charm that sparked her interesting. She had , probably never again, met a man like him. She has always been surrounded by stuttering Templars.

“You flatter me,” she replied as she gently swayed his hand away from the book. The moment her slender fingers touched his, he took his chance and held her hand in his.

“I am truly trying, mi amora,” his voice lowered and was as sweet as honey. Azura looked at their hands locked together. He leaned in toward her, and she was starting to lean back toward him as well. It was like a magnetic draw to him -- one she cannot escape so easily from.

Oh, his efforts are that of a determined man. A man ready to show his hand of cards if that means he can win the bet. She gives him credit for all his attempts and his alluring voice. It is very hard to not fall for this man. Yet, she is strong willed and refuses to fall for lust.

He was so close to her face, she could fell his breath on her skin. Her heart was racing under her blue robes. Their lips are just inches a part. Only a few more inches....

No, she cannot fall for his trap!

Azura moves her hand out his grip in a swift motion and moved her head toward the side. She closed the book and placed it back on the stone table. “Why must you make this a game?” she finally questioned him -- a question she is sure will never have answers.

Zevran had a defeated expression and pouted. “A game? My dear, this is not just a game for me. I am truly mesmerized by your beauty. I only want to show you just how beautiful you are. The only way I can do so is by showering in compliments and also in the heat of passion as I ravish your beautiful body,” he answered, adding a tone of dramatic to show his “wounded” pride of the disjointing of their hands and their needby kiss.

Azura only looked at him with a defeated expression upon her face. His handsome features, his confidence, his body -- tis everything a woman or man would want in a man. Yet, she is hesitant. He approaches sex as if there is no love in it -- sex to only be a comfort idea, not of two people in love. This is something she can never agree too.

“I am flatted, truly. But, I will just not lay with you unless there is something more than just lust.” She stated with a wave of her hand.

Zevran raised a brow and chuckled under his breath. “My dear, why must you make it so difficult? Two friends can lay and have no feelings in under the sheets.”

Azura shook her head and ran a hand through her long raven locks. This appears to be a stand off between them. She stood up and crossed her arms over her elegant robes. “Do you know what the circle of magi is?”

“Changing the subject? I’m game. I have heard only a little when I was in Anitva. Why don’t you tell me since you are eager to speak of it”, he answered and leaned back in the stone chair.

“I was given to the circle when I was only seven. I don’t remember my own parents or even what part of Ferelden I was born in,” she spoke as she stared at the books in front of her. “The circle was my home. However, in the circle we had many rules. We were respected -- to a certain degree.”

“Oh, where did the respect end?” Zevran questioned.

Azura turned back to him, “We could not be friendly to other mages or anyone in fact, if you catch my meaning” --oh he did from the look on his face -- the raise of his eyebrow and the small gap in between his lips “I am not too certain why but now that I left the circle I have my own ideas. I think they don’t let us because they believe two mages would birth another. We must serve men -- tis true, but the charnty doesn’t want too many of us. “

“My dear, are you saying that you are a virgin?” He questioned with the same expression on his face.

Azura refused to show any sign of weakness on her pale features. Yes, it was true. She was. The have relations in the circle was too difficult. So many were caught and if caught a mage risked the chance of being tranquil -- a fate worst than death. She refused to give into temptation, and there were many that is for sure.

“Yes, I am.” She answered with her chin up high. “I could never or I would risk the chance of being tranquil. However, I had a few moments of lust that is for certain.”

“Oh, “ he chuckled “do tell.”

Azura started to smile, only a little. A smile that was hard to bring out of her. “His name was Cullen. He was so strong and handsome, but he was a Templar. His job was to watch me and ensure I never fell to my demons. He would watch me train and compliment my skills. I was smitten by his appearance. One day after class, he tried to speak to me but in stead I kissed him before he could speak. Me! I did something so daring like that. I ran away in fear that he would have tell his kinght-commander on me.”

“Did he?” Zevran asked. He has been so quiet during her tale. She is not sure if he is that interested or just being polite.

“No. But we never spoke of it after that. Some days, I would kiss him out of fun if he took too long to speak. I think he did enjoy our times of lust. However, the day of my harrowing, if I became a demon he was supposed to slay me without a second thought” -- she paused, that was such a glorious moment in her life. She thought after that day she would finally be a senior mage and leave the town to serve armies as battle mage. Oh, how fate laughed at her that day.

“I approached Cullen afterward and we spoke about it. He reminds me of Allistar ; they both cannot speak in front of women. He was always so flustered around me and could never make eye contact. I tried to flirt but he would always excuse himself: I found it rather heart warming.”

“Ah. I see,” Zevran interrupted. “You wish for me to be like that. My dear, I wish I could but unlike them I cannot keep my charisma at bay.“

Azura only sighed and turned back to face him. “That is not the point of my story. If you let me finished however....”

“Yes, yes. I am eager to know what became of him,” Zevran replied and leaned on the table closer to the warden.

“I was forced to leave the circle because I helped a friend -- who became a blood mage. I still remember Cullen’s face when Duncan took me away. I waved goodbye, but I wanted to say more,” she paused -- his expression still in her memories -- too fresh. “I returned to the circle as a warden and saw that the mages took over using blood magic. Cullen was their prisoner. He was tormented by demons who pretended to be me. He didn’t think I was real and said....horrible things about me.”

“Oh, like what?” Zevran asked with a venom in his usual honey like tone.

“He couldn’t understand how he could want a mage. Like I was some vile creature from the gates of the fade ready to chew men up. He saw me just as another apostate -- not even a circle mage.” she paused and exhaled slowly. “He...he never looked at me the same after that day.”

“My dear....I.....am sorry,” he spoke softly to him. His soft tone was almost her undoing.

“I tell you this because I have been in lust. This is what this is between us, just lust. I....” she paused -- too shamed to say what she really wants from him. Love, that’s what she wants. That’s what she craves. She craves to be the desire of someone -- her and only her. “ I don’t want just lust.”

Zevran was silent as he stared at her. She has never felt self conscious, but she does under his silent gaze. So unlike him to be so quiet.

“I have always taken my pleasures when I could. I only know of lust,” he paused and she felt her feet getting cold from the fear of his statement. “Yet, for a women as beautiful, strong, alluring such as yourself. I would kill to have you share a night with me. Perhaps... We shall see, no promises, mi amora.”

That’s all she can ask for at the moment.

Azura sat back in her chair and looked up at Zevran. “I suppose it is hard to think what you say about me is true all the time. I was never praised in the circle for my appearance or my body: only my talents. I was created to serve man -- that was all -- and am still good for.”

Zevran shook his head. He stood up and nearly turned the chair over. “No! That is not true. You don’t just have one purpose. You have many. Look at you! A beautiful warden whose fate is to unite the races together to stop the Blight. That is more than serving man, I believe.”

Azura sighed -- it does sound nice but her only purpose for so long was to serve SOMEONE -- the chantry, a noble, an army, whoever.

“Maybe, all this independence has gone to my head--” she started to say but Zevran walked over to her and took her hands into his tanned ones.

“Azura,” he stated and a blush formed on her pale features. The way he speaks her name in the accent --- it is truly her undoing. His fingers stroked the top of her hands slowly. “you are so much more than just a circle mage.”

She looked up at him and her fingers tightened around his hands. She didn’t break their gaze. This -- this connection, right here and right now feels stronger than any she has felt before. His warm yellow hues made her feel so warm -- protected.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

[worlduniversityrp-blog]

Posting my own form as an example for everyone joining! — Prof. Kota

OOC

Name: Dakota/Kota. Pronouns: she/her Contact URL: romanope

Character Wanted: South Italy / Romano Activity Level: 6-8 Timezone: PCT (Las Vegas) Password: accepted

Extra: My only big thing is I am uncomfortable rping the Italy Bros and will likely not be interacting with any N. Italy’s, I’m sorry!

IC

Full Name: Lorenzo Riccio

Age / Year: 20, 2nd year/sophomore. Gender / Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Appearance: Lorenzo is of short stature and small/medium framed body, his overall appearance being more gender-neutral than it is overly feminine or masculine. He has brown-olive skin littered with moles and sunspots, cappuccino brown curls that reach about ear-jaw length, and dark hazel green-brown, almond-shaped eyes that have a judging glare to them.

He stands at only 5’5 and weighs around average, with no defined muscles and slight pudge around his stomach area. His facial structure isn’t too sharp or defined, but not very soft or round either; he has an oval shaped face with a Roman nose, slightly plump lips, and high cheekbones. The most notable thing about his appearance is the unruly, curled strand of hair that sticks out.to the left, his right.

Personality: Lorenzo is, without a doubt, not the most approachable person out there; he tends to be anti-social, though when he wants to be can be rather charismatic and friendly. It’s not his strongest suit, however. He’s a bit abrasive and frequently rude and foul-mouthed with most people, especially those he does not like. Though it’s mostly a defense mechanism, and if you’re close enough to him, he’ll feel comfortable enough around you to be his passionate, loving, and even often silly side of himself. Though to no one does he show the side of him where he’s crying, or feels helpless.

He has a great deal of insecurities that have guarded his personality so intensely, that it causes him to lash out when angered, and push people away very often. He has an awful inferiority complex, and little to no sense of self-worth. He’s very pessimistic, and his depression makes it harder for him to show positive, happy emotions, as to how easy it makes it for him to spit out insults and being stubborn, rude, and overall grumpy and unimpressed with everything.

The person who makes him happiest is Antonio; he actually manages to give him a spot of optimism, make him smile and laugh and just be himself.

Skills: Painting & drawing, cooking, napping??? Complaining? Nothing else

Painting/drawing: A given, Lorenzo is very skilled with artistic media, namely painting and drawing being his best too. He is a specifically traditional artist, but has been considering learning digital media.

Cooking: Growing up in an Italian family, it’s hard to not know how to cook. He learned when he was younger since he’d always help his mother cook. It’s relaxing to him.

Napping: Worldwide champion napper. Any chance he can nap, he takes.

Complaining: Honestly.

Flaws: Pessimism, low self-worth, abrasiveness.

Pessimism: Naturally, given he has depression, Lorenzo tends to see things in the worst way, to expect the worst, and accept it. He doesn’t have a lot of hope for himself, and usually relies on others to give him some sort of sense of optimism. This also goes for his bad mood, he has trouble showing positive emotions as opposed to how easy it is for him to be negative.

Low self-worth: He thinks incredibly lowly of himself due to a multitude of things in his past, and even in his present. And yet he still manages to be a narcissist. He is the definition of “hates himself, but believes he’s better than everybody”.

Abrasiveness: A lot of bottled up emotions tend to manifest themselves in him in forms of aggression, making it easy for him to lash out, or they way he insults people and acts so rude to someone he doesn’t like so nonchalantly. Also, he’s ultimately petty, so.

Backstory: ( TW: Abuse / Depression / Self harm + Suicidal thoughts )

Lorenzo was born to his family as a first gen Italian-American, his parents having moved from Italy for better opportunities. He was always closer to his mother growing up, as his father wasn’t exactly an incredible one to begin with. As he got older, he got more and more abusive towards him, mostly verbal but even sometimes physical with him the older he was; and the older he got, the more his parents fought. He used to blame it on himself, since his dad seemed to make it look that way.

When he was 13, his mother and father divorced, and his father walked out on them. School was already awful for him as he wasn’t rather popular, only had a few ‘friends’ (they weren’t that close, since he usually shut everyone out), and had been bullied since he was young. It got worse with this, his grades fell back, and it was practically a miracle that he wasn’t held back.

Any friends he had in middle school, he lost once he was in high school. High school felt infinitely worse, he was much more stressed, ridiculed far more, and he didn’t know how to cope with it. His mother was often busy and never home, trying to provide for them both without their father there anymore. So he turned to harming himself; cutting, sometimes, just to let something out. When he was 16, he started to get ahold of cigarettes and starting smoking, to de-stress himself. He didn’t care if it harmed him, he had little to no sense of self-worth, and figured he wouldn’t live long at that point anyways.

The more he bottled up, the more he lashed out, the more he shut himself off thereafter; peers viewed more and more horribly, hated him more, made fun of him more. He’d contemplated much worse than self-harm at times. He got a job at a local fast food place to help his mother, and also to have more of an excuse to avoid people he knew, ever. Smoking became a bad habit. It didn’t help him one bit that, despite having a loving and supportive mother, a lot of himself went hidden thanks to family values and religion.

Graduating high school felt like a weight had been yanked right off his shoulders. Going off to college in NYC, away from the upstate town he was born in, was a fucking blessing. Every from high school was gone and he felt a little less outcast at World U. But he still bottles stuff up, and could really use a therapist, honestly.

Headcanons: 

Despite being 20, Lorenzo still hasn’t gotten his driver’s license, and if he can’t catch a ride from someone else, he takes public transport or walks most places. He’s not sure when he plans on getting it; he lives in NYC, after all.

While Lorenzo majors in Art, he’s often thought about opening his own restaurant in his future, and even works in the campus’s cafe (which isn’t that delightful, not that he thought it would be.)

While he has the ability to paint with a more modern style, he’s deeply inspired by barocco era paintings, and loves to paint to in such a style.

He still smokes sometimes, but he’s trying hard to quit. He’s been clean of any type of self-harming for a couple years now, but the urges still resurface.

Major(s): Visual / Studio Arts Major. Minors: Culinary Arts. Courses: Life Drawing II, Advanced Painting, Drawing II.

Ships:

OTP(s): Spamano ( I have others I like, but this is the one I’m gonna focus on ).

NOTP(s): Most of any other ships that spamano, but g/ermano + itace/st make me the most uncomfy.

Writing sample:

Every bone in his body ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his eyes were barely open; probably not the best conditions for him to be working on a stupid fucking charcoal piece on, but he had no choice. His movements were rushed, trying to piece together the painting as it came along. A man with his back to the viewer, messy, disheveled hair envisioned with dark and heavy strokes of charcoal on the canvas, an arm raised to the level of his head, and a hand cupping the back of his neck.

It wasn’t a mystery who it was meant to be a caricature of, but he’d do everything he could to deny it was anything other than just a random mystery man he’d come up with. No, he just wanted to finish it ― he needed to finish it, since it was due tomorrow, and he’d put off most chances to work on it over the past few days. A tired groan slipped from his lips, and he fumbled for his phone to turn on the screen. 1:16 am. Another groan; looks like this would be one of those days where he needed a smoke. Wishing he had weed right now, he smacked a cigarette out of the box and grabbed his lighter, too tired and frankly too lazy for something more than one of these right now, and dragged his ass outside. A brief break wouldn’t hurt.

Once he was outside, he let the cigarette hang from his lips and cupped his hand around it, shielding the flame in the lighter as he brought it to the tip. It felt comforting to take a long drag, breathing in the awful but somehow relaxing smoke, before letting it tumble from his lips and fill the air in front of him. He swatted his hand, clearing it away, but the stench would still linger. He frowned, looking around at the dark campus in the middle of the night, huffing.

After some time passed and he felt calmer, he made his way back inside and to his dorm, setting back on working on his piece, putting a little too much effort into the curve of his back, his backside, and the soft shading that emphasized his muscles. God, he was really gay. Eventually he figured – fuck it, that was good enough, he needed sleep, and dragged himself to his bed to do just that.

[smashdraws]

The things I’ve learned from art school: part 1/?

I’m a second year illustration student, and I’m here to share with you pearls of wisdom from what I’ve experienced and learned in college (so far), from the actual drawing process to attitudes about art/drawing. Most of these things I’ve learned the hard way, and some are from things I’ve seen others struggle with. 

The most work you should be doing in your drawing process is thumbnails/sketching stage.

“There’s no point in finishing a drawing if it’s flawed from the beginning”. That’s what my Composition & Transparent Media professor constantly told us. During our first piece of the semester, he had us stay on the sketching and redrawing stage for a little over a month in order to perfect them. He wanted to make sure the perspective was right, composition was pushed to its fullest, details were added to make every space interesting, the whole shebang. Obviously you’re probably not going to spend a whole month redrawing a piece over and over every time you draw, especially if it’s a time-sensitive project or just a personal piece you’re doing for funsies. However, the sketching stage is where most of the creativity happens. You have to decide on composition, scale, design elements, characters and how they’re positioned in the space, environment, and so much more. And I’d be willing to bet that you won’t get it right the first time.

Give yourself projects when you aren’t in school.

It helps with artist block. The summer between freshman and sophomore year of school I could probably count the number of drawings I did on one hand. To be fair, I was working two jobs 6 days a week so i didn’t exactly have a lot of time, but I found that once I got out of school I had zero drive or ideas. Without assignments from class to draw for, I had nothing to draw, and when I got back to school for sophomore year I had a lot of trouble getting inspired again. It made the beginning of the year really hard for me. Find something, ANYTHING, to draw while you’re out of school, even if you draw fanart for one thing all summer, at least you’re still drawing. 

If a character in your drawing is reminiscent of another character/too generic, think about altering it- especially if it’s a work that focuses on said character.

This really only applies for artists who’s focus/career is character design, but it’s still relevant to others. As painful as it is to hear, it means you might not be pushing your concepts enough. I took a class on Concept Art, and the first assignment was character design. A few of mine were deemed too generic looking, and one was too reminiscent of an existing character. It really hurt to hear, especially since I pride myself on character design and they were for a story I’ve had in development for over 6 years. It really made me feel like shit and made me not want to develop the characters further. But I needed to hear it, and I had to continue developing them for the class, so I ended up overhauling and redesigning the characters until they didn’t seem like the same ones anymore in order to make them more interesting. I hated it, but it’s what I had to do. 

That being said, things like this really make you think about distinguishing your characters and art from others out there. It’s essentially impossible to be 100% original, but that doesn’t mean you cant try your damnedest to make your ideas as close to original as they can get without getting overcomplicated.

When designing characters, mix up the body shape and facial features.

This one is kind of specific, but still important since character design is an important element of illustration. If you don’t vary things up you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ from your professors and peers. And frankly, its boring as hell when someone’s characters all look the same. This is something I see a lot, and I can never get attached to an individual character cause they all looked the same! I found that it happens a lot with male characters, they all have defined abs to some degree and perfectly toned arms and honestly, it gets boring when all of someone’s male characters have the same body type. As for face, there is literally no excuse. There are SO MANY KINDS OF FACES MAN. Round, rectangular, circular, heart-shaped, squared. People can have hooked noses, upturned noses, tiny cute noses. Even eyebrows- arched, flat, thick, waxed, faint, or bold. You’re allowed to have preferences for what kind of bodies you like to draw, but don’t be afraid to branch out!

Develop your own style.

As an artist, you need your own style. Imitating other artist’s styles isn’t going to get you far in school or the real world, and chances are, your peers will call you out if your style looks too much like another established artist’s. In order to make a living and gain clients you need a style that you make unique, taking inspirations and aspects from other styles and squishing them together to make one amazing art style baby. Your art style will probably be the deciding factor in whether or not your client hires you! 

Tracing references is OK when appropriate.

As long as it isn’t for a published or commissioned piece, there is absolutely no harm in tracing references. In your down time take some pictures of yourself or find some online and go ahead and trace ‘em. Really pay attention to how the body actually is, how the perspective on legs work, how that hand is foreshortened. Do this enough and you’ll find yourself thinking about all that when you’re drawing normally!

There will always be students better than you, you just gotta accept it.

It’s just a fact of life, unfortunately. When you’re a freshman, you’re in classes with only freshman for your foundation year. You and your peers are all on the relatively same level. What had affected me starting my second year (and I didn’t realize it until much later) was that now that I was in classes with upperclassmen, who had a year or two’s worth of experience on me, I felt as id my art was not up to par. It’s easy to forget your classmates are not just from your grade anymore, especially in electives. All of the electives I took had mostly Juniors and a few Sophomores, and my work always didn’t quite have that polish and finesse to it yet that the upperclassmen’s did have. It’s just a fact of life that you’ll always be up against artists who are more skilled than you , but thats because they have more or different experiences. You have to keep in mind that you can’t compare yourself to them, since it isn’t fair to you that you’re comparing yourself to someone who may have 3+ years on you. 

Learn realism to some extent- figures, animals, everything.

You don’t have to like it, but you can always tell when an artist never learned it because their figures are always off. There is a difference between stylizing and not knowing, and it’s almost always evident. You can see it in the way hands are drawn, noses are rendered, and how they shape and place breasts. Do pages of body studies focusing on hands, feet, leg muscles, back arches, faces, all kinds of stuff. You’ll thank yourself later. 

Your professors and peers will know when you don’t put in your best effort.

They’ll know when you aren’t pushing yourself because you’ll make fundamental mistakes. Slightly imperfect coloring, wiggly linework that wasn’t done quite carefully enough, not bothering to fix those damn feet in the finish. They always know, somehow...even if you’re careful with your laziness.

Buying expensive materials is usually worth it.

It may cost more but your work will benefit from it, and they last so, so much longer. I had to buy 3 brushes when my techniques class was doing watercolor, and in total they costed over $100. I found as I used them that since they were hair brushes and not synthetic, they held so much more pigment and water, and I could get a much finer tip. I was incredibly lucky that my professor provided the paint, which could go up to $20 a tube for some colors with the brand he had. Paper is also something worth splurging on, because let me tell you I have had disastrous effects when using shitty (coughCANSONcough) watercolor paper. The 9x12 paper block I bought for class was $30, and it was the best paper i’ve ever worked on. Absolutely worth the money and I will be buying that brand for projects from now on. And the best thing about all these is that they’ll last forever! 

You NEED to find ways to get excited about a project you hate, because you’re gonna have to do a lot of them.

If you don’t find ways to get excited about projects you’re not too thrilled to do, you’ll never succeed. I learned this in my freshman year very fast, because man oh man were there some projects I couldn’t have cared less about. If you can, gear the project towards one of your interests without compromising the purpose or assigned subject. 

I hope this advice can help some folks! Art school is a lot of tough love, and a lot of stepping 300 yards out of your comfort zone (sometimes by force). But they key is to not be afraid of trying new things! You’ll find things you absolutely hate doing, and will never want to do ever again if you can help it, and you’ll find things that you’ll love to do. It’s all about keeping an open mind!

Keep drawing, keep learning, keep creating.