#I didn't draw the drunk patrons because I didn't want to

[cochineal-leviat]

"Our dear party celebrate after acquiring the third orb to unlock the House of Dormont. Their location? A tavern. It is a night to drink your worries and sorrows away. Hopefully, they will be able to relax before continuing their formidable journey.

Unfortunately, the booze has more unintended consequences than the group had considered. Especially on their new roguish member."

This is my first ISAT fic (that I have finished), and I am so stoked to share it with everyone! I also drew a comic with it because I was so excited about the story. This is definitely one of my best comics yet. I have been experimenting with panelling, and I am getting the formula down now after much trial and error.

I had a lot of fun designing Siffrin's clothes under the cloak (I even drew a reference for it in my sketchbook). I love designing clothes <3. Especially tunics. It seems a little too fancy for Sif's tastes, but I am chalking it up it being a gift from someone from a long time ago rather than something Siffrin would buy or get on his own)

Please enjoy~!

(Also, there are no spoilers for the game itself! Except for the ending notes of the fic, but I will place a warning there)

Different coloured pages without text under keep reading

Initially, I worked with different shades of grey for anyone: Siffrin has violet grayscale, Isabeua red, Mirabelle yellow, and Odile Green. But I ended up putting a black-and-white filter on it for unification. Please let me know if you guys prefer the 'coloured' versions more or not, and I will change the comic pages into the OG colouring. The purple for Siff is giving, but I am unsure if it is too noisy.

[hawkinsbnbg]

standin' at that altar, or we will run away

prompt: sneaking around | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: exes to lovers, bathroom sex, daddy kink, barebacking, creampie, top Eddie, possessive Eddie, bottom Steve, babygirl Steve, steddie in love.

word count: 1k7 | rated: E | ao3

Steve sipped his wine and sighed inwardly. It was too early to ingest the alcohol, but knowing his parents would criticize him no matter what, he didn't have any reason to behave himself.

If they thought being late was a power move, then he should be allowed to drink all of their expensive wine.

At least, he snorted humorlessly, waiting for them was better than another blind date.

Steve was a little tipsy when he finally saw him.

Black suit jacket, white open-collared, ironed trousers, and shiny shoes. His long curls were pulled up in a ponytail, tattoos visible on the back of his hands and fingers—adorned with silver chunky rings.

Since the restaurant wasn't exactly packed, it was criminally easy to pick out a familiar face among the sea of dining patrons.

Steve knew he was staring, but Eddie Munson wouldn't be a thorn in his side if the man stopped looking good even for a second.

Especially when he dressed up, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing that would make Steve weak in the knees.

He watched Eddie empty a glass of water and set it down, then stand up from the table and walk away.

Steve loosened his tie and sat there for a moment longer, glancing at his watch to check the time before also getting up and leaving his table.

———

Steve couldn't believe he would follow his ex of all people into a restaurant's bathroom. Which, sadly, wasn't news at all.

Because if there was nothing to stop him, he would follow Eddie to the end of Earth and even beyond death.

Perhaps, Steve supposed, he was a bigger freak than he gave himself credit for.

"Ed– Oof!"

He was pulled into a sturdy chest as soon as he opened the door.

The sight of Eddie—tall and broad shouldered—with his shirt's sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing more of the intricate inks, would forever be ingrained in Steve's brain.

A ringed hand came up to hold his chin aloft, dark brown eyes regarded him with an unreadable look before plump lips descended on his own, seizing him in a fervent kiss.

As his pants were stripped and long slicked fingers pressed into him, Steve couldn't remember why he didn't want to trail after Eddie in the first place.

In the mirror, he looked debauched with his disheveled appearance; tousled hair, unbuttoned shirt, red swollen lips, and hickey-covered neck.

All the while, Eddie's gaze felt like a physical touch on him—scorching, heavy, and ravenous.

Steve had missed it; the feeling of being desired and adored in the same touch and in all one breath. It was intoxicating, got him light-headed more than any alcohol or drug.

"More," he pushed his hips back, one hand hooking behind Eddie's neck while the other splaying on the bathroom counter. He clenched around the fingers working inside him, hoping they would be replaced by something bigger soon.

"Such a greedy little thing, hm?" Eddie mouthed the column of his throat and stroked his prostate relentlessly, drawing punch-drunk moans from him. "My fingers not enough for you, princess?"

Steve shook his head frantically. He wanted Eddie; whole and scalding and everything. He wanted and wanted until his body was torn into pieces, reaching its limit and incapable of containing his greed, his hunger—

His love for this beautiful man.

And oh, he had said it again, didn't he?

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Unrestrained. Unashamed. Unrepentant.

Eddie made a wounded noise like it was punched right out of him.

And while Steve loved like the sun, burning and consuming; Eddie loved like the moon, tender and forgiving.

Embracing him in warmth and affection even when he was the one at fault. Even when he had been a coward and run away.

"Missed you, Daddy," he trembled in the safety of those strong arms, barely able to conceal the desperation in his voice. "Need it so bad– Please–"

"Anything, baby," Eddie clutched his waist in a bruising grip, sounding hoarse and shaky, as he pushed slowly into him, stretching him open, tearing him asunder. "Anything."

Steve dropped his mouth in a silent moan, squeezing his eyes shut when Eddie set up a brutal pace right off the bat.

Neither of them had much time to savor this sacred moment. A reunion after two months apart. A drop of morning dew sliding off a green leave.

And he let Eddie use his body, slamming into him with an urgent need—as if his inside was the hearth of life, as if Eddie needed to be balls deep in him like air—chasing the blazing flame that they were both after.

"Am I that girl you dream of, baby?" Eddie grabbed his jaw to make him meet those crazed eyes in the mirror, hot lips pressing against his artery—thumping like a hummingbird. "Does she pamper you the way I did? Does she make love to you and fuck you like this? Does she tie you up? Eat you out until you cry and beg for her cock?"

"There's no one–" Steve was interrupted by the insistent knocks on the door. And suddenly remembered that they were very underdressed in a public setting.

Not that it had ever stopped Eddie from bending him over the nearest surface and going to town.

"Fuck off!" Eddie shouted at the door with a scowl.

"Yeah, fuck off," Steve giggled.

His parents would definitely have a coronary if they found out their straight son was given the pounding of his life in a bathroom. And right in a restaurant under the Harrington's name, nonetheless.

"Wanna share with the class what's so funny, darlin'?" Eddie rolled his hips and Steve's laughter suddenly cut into a strangled moan.

The constant pressure on his prostate wasn't a joke, making Steve drool and lose his mind.

"Love you, Daddy," he babbled incoherently, not caring that it didn't make any sense. "Love you so much. Love your cock so much."

"Jesus Christ, baby."

His eyes rolled back as Eddie grounded into his prostate and bumped his weeping dick quickly, setting his nerves alight and sending him over the edge.

Steve convulsed as he got overwhelmed by the toes-curling pleasure, muscles flexing and milking the thick length inside him like his life depended on it.

"That's– Fuck–" Eddie groaned and pressed his forehead on Steve's shoulder, blunt nails digging into the trim waist and leaving their crescent indents behind.

Steve wished they would take forever to fade.

After a few stuttered thrusts, Eddie buried deep and spilled inside him, filling him up to the brim.

"Don't pull out," Steve whimpered, clamping down even as he knew full well it was impossible.

"Me and you both, sweetheart," Eddie pressed a wistful kiss on his temple, slipping out easily from his sloppy hole.

After using the toilet paper to wipe down his backside and dick, Eddie pulled his briefs and pants back on, deft hands snaking around his torso to do his belt and zipper for him.

When Eddie turned him around to button his shirt and tucked it in as well, Steve's softened dick gave a valiant twitch at the feeling of Eddie's cum dripping from his hole.

His underwear would be a mess by the time he was home, but if he played his cards right, Eddie would clean it for him.

"Hey, Ed–"

"Steve, I–"

They paused and shared a shy smile.

"You first," Steve said, cheeks tinged pink as Eddie's hands came to rest on his waist, boxing him in against the counter.

"I know none of this is your fault. So whatever you need to do to fulfill your duty, I forgive you," Eddie gave him a tender smile, stealing his breath away. "And I'll wait for you for however long it takes. Because I know it hurts you as much as I, if not worse, to listen to your parents. I don't agree with it, but I understand that you have your reason to do so."

Steve felt guilt run through him, his eyes burned and his lips quivered as he rested his forehead on Eddie's shoulder, wanting to hide his tears because what right did he have to cry now?

"Let me be your silent support, baby," Eddie's fingers combed through his hair gently. "Let me take care of you even from the shadows."

"No!" He lifted his head to meet those kind brown eyes. "You don't deserve that– I can't– I won't keep you a secret, Eddie."

"I love you, and there's no other way for us–"

"There is," Steve raised his hand to wipe the tears in his eyes, smiling wobbly at his boyfriend. "I'm here today to break the big news to my parents. If you're willing to take me in when they disown me and deny my inheritance right–"

Someone banged on the door loudly from the outside, but Steve didn't care about it. Wealth, fame, reputation; they all paled in comparison to the man he loved.

"–then I'll go with you."

Eddie gave him a searching look, as if what he just said was too good to be true. Which Steve couldn't fault him after everything he had put him through. But it hurt still, to be doubted by his love because he had proved himself untrustworthy with his foolishness.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, caressing Steve's cheekbone with the back of his hand. "I'm not your parents. I'm just a small-time musician. A life with me won't be the same as anything you grew up with. I don't want you to regret your decision, baby."

"And you called me a worrier," Steve teased gently, before grabbing Eddie's wrist to kiss his ring finger—tattooed with a princess crown. "A life with you sounds good enough to me."

"Yeah?" Eddie smiled at him, fond and precious.

"Yeah," Steve smiled back, feeling his body tingle with light. So bright that he could rival the sun.

At the sound of the door being unlocked, Steve winked at Eddie.

"Let's bring me out of the closet. Show my parents that I'm as straight as a rubber band."

"Stephen Joseph Harrington," Eddie grinned widely and gazed at him in awe. "I'm gonna marry you one day."

Steve tipped forward and kissed Eddie soundly when those loving arms caught him.

Yeah, one day soon.

[tabbyxcatt]

DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS (RANDOM)

I was debating whether I should just make it NSFW for all the characters and write all fluff separately but couldn't decide so... Giyuu and Gyomei's is NSFW and Sanemi and Kyojuro's is Fluff. It's titled headcannons but.. is it really? idk Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Characters: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei x AFAB!Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff 

Content Warning: fem!reader, (self)degradation, curse words (excuse my language 𓏗-𓏗), slight dub con if you squint really hard, alcohol, size kink. I think that's about it.

p.s I got a little carried away writing Gyomei's (nsfw) my bad lol.

GIYUU (FREAK IN THE SHEETS) HES LOWKEY A PERVERT

Giyuu doesn’t really initiate any physical affection at first. Truth be told, he doesn’t really initiate ANYTHING in the beginning besides confessing to you. 

Tbh he didn’t expect to get this far after confessing. He never imagined you would accept and return his confession. So he’s not exactly sure what to do next since he didn't plan for this. 

In the beginning of the relationship you have to lead. In all aspects. It's definitely a slow burn and he's awkward as hell about it all but don’t patronize him! He’s trying. He likes you and he knows you like him, he doesn’t want to hold back with you but he’s just… so. clueless. 

He’s touch starved af, he’s not used to affection, compliments or attention but goddamn does he EAT. THAT. SHIT. UP. He loves it. You make him feel like no one has ever made him feel before. But take it easy with him, he's quick to get overwhelmed. It's all new to him and it scares tf out of him. But thrills him all the same.

Gaining Giyuu's trust is a difficult feat in itself, but making him fall in love? Girl you must have magical powers or something because it would take A LOT for Giyuu to allow himself to ever get as close as he has with you. Giyuu is definitely the type to wait until marriage or until he's more than sure that he can trust you.

It would take him some warming up to and getting used to (even though he craves it every second of the day). He's deprived himself of emotions for so long it takes him a while to relax and let himself go, let himself feel and experience.

But when he finally does, buckle up buckaroo because it's going to be an absolutely exhilarating ride.

Giyuu is one hundred percent pussy drunk after his first time with you. He never had a high sex drive, really only masturbating because he needed to every once in a while and out of fear that he wouldn't be able to use it at all. But even when he did he never got that sense of "relief", much less any satisfaction and the thought of masturbating to someone that he'd never and would never be intimate with just turned him off all the more.

That was, until he met you. You and your presence that completely overloaded his senses, your loving eyes that seemed to drown him whenever he made eye contact, your melodious voice calling his name almost sensually, your lingering touch so soft on his skin, all drawing him in like a siren luring a sailor into the waters with her. And now he finally understood what it was all about. And that sex drive that was nearly non existent before now came back with a full force almost too much for him to handle.

Once you guys get past his firsts and get more comfortable with each other, he’d change but only behind closed doors for the most part.

I'm not saying Giyuu has a complete 180 personality change, but you definitely have the privilege of seeing a side to Giyuu no has has ever seen before. One Giyuu himself didn't even know existed.

In the comfort of his place, or yours, or wherever he can get you alone, he’d do and say the most perverse things that leave you with your mouth wide open and eyes nearly bulging because your quiet little dewdrop really just said that to you.

He can be bold when he wants but he does it in a way that’s just so..??? Endearing? Charming? I can’t find the right word, but he could be telling you his most perverse fantasies with a blush on his face and a hitch in his voice and it would have you absolutely putty in his beautiful hands. (also headcanon I believe Giyuu would have the prettiest hands -long slender fingers, hands the size of your face, prominent veins, clean, trimmed nails- EVERYTHING. all the works)

Getting home from a stressful mission? Need a long, warm bath to relax? No problem, your sweet bf is already setting it up for you. 

As he helps you strip- lemme clarify- as HE strips you down, this man will slide your panties down, slowly, kneeling down before you as he caresses the soft flesh of your thighs glancing up at you with a small appreciative smile. Rising up steadily while holding eye contact with you, he goes from looking up to looking down as he towers over you after successfully removing your panties. Never once breaking eye contact, he’d raise the fist that had your pantie bunched up to his face and sniff much to your horror. 

Homeboy would sniff deeply, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your scent, choking on a groan, before staring you down with dilated pupils, hard as a rock. He’d stuff them into his pocket “for later” he’d mumble before walking over to you, planting a sweet kiss on your slightly agape mouth before saying “enjoy your bath love” with a devious smirk ghosting on his lips.

He’d simply walk out of the bathroom after that -leaving you slightly horrified but more turned on that he just did that- to your shared bedroom while you bathed, to soil your panties even more. A process he’s done more than once (some without your knowledge, but what you don't know won't hurt.. Right? He can't help it, he’s addicted to you. But you know. You always find them. You do most of the laundry after all, always finding them absolutely wrecked and crusty. Thanks Giyuu.) 

Giyuu gets so wrapped up in you and the way you feel that if you initiate anything with him, as long as you're behind closed doors and shielded away from the outside world, he's on you in seconds, completely ignoring anything that's not you.

Giyuu doesn't fully realize how far gone he is with you until the sound of his own self deprecating voice, growling in the distance rings in his ears, "what is it? can't handle it? huh? is the loners dick too big?" "tell me, pretty girl, is my dick game as lame as they said it would be?" "scream my name baby, let everyone know how good this loser is fucking you."

He doesn't even recognize himself, he's embarrassed by his own actions/words so believe that he's going to be blushing the entire time he's dicking you down.

He needs reassurance, craves it so much that in moments like those he doesn't even realize what he's saying, brain turned to mush as he's lost in the way you feel, all the insults he's been called combined with the fact that he never imagined he'd be as close to someone as he is with you, have him spewing such self degrading dirty talk. Honestly his brain short circuits whenever you guys get freaky~ because one he never knew it could feel this good, two he can't even begin to comprehend that he is the one that has you whining, sobbing, cumming as hard as you are and three he's getting to experience this with an absolute knockout like you.

(i saw someone briefly mention pervert giyuu stealing panties and just ran with the idea. give me more closetedpervert!giyuu pls, completely obsessed!giyuu, desperate!giyuu who will take (literally) anything you give him. i love him sm) 

(btw im sorry i wrote his so messily)

SANEMI (A SIMP) UNAPOLOGETICALLY SO, HE’D BE LIKE ‘SAY SOMETHIN I DARE U’

Sanemi knows he comes off as unhinged sometimes, it’s on purpose, an act (MOSTLY) to keep people from getting close to him. 

So when he realizes he has a crush on you, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it at first, refuses to. He can’t and he won't. It's stupid, reckless and selfish and he knows it’s just going to end in heartbreak. And that’s something he doesn’t want to live through again. 

It’s fairly easy to ignore you. There isn't much reason for you guys to run into each other, like none…he is not close to anyone you know. 

Even if he was, he throws himself in mission after mission, so he doesn’t really get much rest time to hang out with anyone. The man doesn’t even hang out with his brother. The closest person he has to a friend is Obanai and that’s because of their shared hatred for Giyuu. 

So the idea of even developing a crush is ridiculous and childish to him. But he’s noticed you. And now that he has, he can’t stop. You and your sparkly eyes, bouncy hair and time-freezing smile. All in passing of course, he'd never actually go up to you and you've never made any effort in talking to him. You’ve never noticed or paid him any mind until you had to. 

Sent on a mission to assist the Wind Hashira, order delivered by your crow, since you were the closest demon slayer in the vicinity to him. The universe was on his side that day, but also fuck you universe cause why tf would you do this to him. 

His mission would require a female to go undercover, but he knew of no one who could help, and anyone who could (Shinobu or Mitsuri) couldn’t. Until you showed up, like a saving grace, an angel. Eyes too sparkly and wide, hair framing your face too perfectly - did you cut it? - and that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that caused all of these unwanted feelings to bubble up in his guts, all directed to him this time. Who sent you? Where was your crow? He would make sure your crow could never give you another order.. Ever again. 

And boy did you help him. You went into this mission and kicked. ass. It was great-  he never knew you could fight so well- sweaty and disheveled but nowhere near battered (he took the stronger attacks to spare you, a junior, he was a Hashira after all… they had the duty to protect the subordinates… right? Oh whatever-). And not once did you stop looking so flawless. 

As you both headed towards the closest Wisteria House (he needed proper rest after having taken on non-stop missions for a few weeks straight. And you had a sprained ankle he insisted you’d get checked.) He couldn’t help the burn of his ears as he heard you talk. Your voice was much prettier than he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course it fucking was. 

He couldn't stop his glances over at your form, you were breathtaking, captivating in the sun rise. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out of there and get away from you and his stupid feelings as fast as possible, but every wince and grimace as you stepped caused his own to falter. Fingers itching with the need to reach out to you, words choked in his throat as he tried (poorly) to stop himself from offering to carry you all the way back. 

Next thing he knew, he was dropping you off in front of the all too familiar doors of the Wisteria House, gently moving you off his back, even though you reassured him multiple times that you were fine and he didn’t need to go through all the trouble. The blush on his face never settled down. 

You both grew close to one another during your stay at the Wisteria House, your room was located down the hall from his, but every morning he waited by your door, ready for the routine morning walk you would take. You helped train with him as he recovered, every meal was eaten together, you'd gotten closer to Sanemi in those days than anyone had been able to in years.

He blinked. (More like time skipped, courtesy of me 😀) And somehow he was courting you. Yes. You heard that right, courting. You were a catch and he would never let that up. Especially when you were reciprocating his attention. He was a bug eyed, crazy motherfucker and you- you were perfect. He was crazy, not stupid! 

He treats you like royalty. Offering to do just about anything for you, buying and getting you anything you liked, even if you never asked him to out loud, he's hyper aware of you and your surroundings. He’d notice if your eyes lingered on an item a few seconds too long. Next thing you knew, he’d be presenting it to you proudly, a satisfied smirk on his face as your eyes lit up. 

He’s a proud man.

You’re his pride. Having a doll such as yourself on his arm, his ego shoots through the roof and he’s unashamed about it. He wants EVERYONE to know you’re his. And he’s yours. Mind, body and soul. And he’d protect you from anything and anyone. 

Tired? Don't exert yourself anymore and let him carry you. Sleepy? Just rest your pretty head on his shoulder and rest your eyes. Hungry? Should he cook for you or do you want him to go get something to eat. He’s even more protective when you have to go on missions. Most of which he isn’t allowed to join because he wouldn’t let you do anything if he did. 

Sanemi knows that the future isn't promised so long you both remain in your line of work, so he lives his life with you with no regrets, he's going to do everything he can for you.

With how unashamed he is he doesn’t care who sees him spoil you. No one is going to get in his way and stop him. No one is going to mention it or else he’d see to it that they’re never able to say another word again (and never be able to enjoy solid food ever again either).

You’re his baby doll, his princess, and he’s not ashamed to show the world, why should he be? 

(sanemi you fucking simp ily) 

KYOJURO (TICKLISH) HIS BOOMING ASS LAUGH JUST MAKES IT FUNNIER

HE IS NOT DEAD. RENGOKU WILL LIVE ON FOREVER. 

He knows he likes you after taking a very serious moment to assess his feelings. He naturally runs hot, but he feels extra warm and uncharacteristically clammy whenever you’re around. It flusters him to no end. He’s not so bold around you (at least he tries not to be) since you seem to flinch and giggle every time he speaks which only causes his blush to spread like wildfire. 

His stare is uncomfortably ardent. He doesn’t mean to, really, in his defense he's not completely aware of how it looks. But you captivate him in a way no one has ever before. (Another inexperienced bean.) And he finds it really difficult to keep his eyes off you. He's completely awed by your swordsmanship and beauty.

In other words, he’s a little off putting at first, especially with his mannerisms. Like his inability to use an inside voice even when eating, his hair that you swear he dye's on the regular and his two toned eyes, whether he’s staring off into the distance or straight into your soul, overall he’s a bit odd and intense. 

But after you have a conversation to get to know each other, you find yourself endeared by him and all false assumptions you had of him before cease to exist. Being near him was like being comforted by the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold all day. A smile so bright and dazzling, you wanted to be bathed in it constantly. 

And a beautiful friendship blooms after that. A friendship you both cherish and nurture, both eager to close that chapter called 'friendship' and move onto the next. But you’re hesitant because how could Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, ever pursue any other passion aside from his work? And Kyojuro just has no idea how to break it to you, what if you didn’t like him that way? What if he was too much? He knew he could be sometimes and he doesn't expect you to willingly want to put up with it. You had blessed him with a friendship nonetheless, and that was something he would forever cherish.  

Kyojuro fairly quickly becomes your best friend, and it's true that he's gotten unbelievably close to you because of his feelings for you but that is not the only reason. Kyojuro admires you for the demon slayer that you are and the person underneath the title. And even if he can't have you the way he wants, he will be by your side, supporting you in all the ways that he can.

So it’s just like any other day as he heads over to your estate, but this time he walks with a much wider stride, his chest puffed out a little more than usual and an unmistakable glint to his eyes. A confident look, one of absolute, like he knows that by the end of it he’s going to have the privilege of calling you his. 

And then he gets there… and just… can’t. He can’t bring himself to say anything in that regard. To confess how his heart yearns for you. 

So he’s listening to you ramble about the latest mission you were on, busying yourself (and him) in the kitchen and he just kinda waits for the opportune moment. 

He ends up giving himself excuses as to why it’s not the right time, but to be honest he’s just scared of rejection, he’s never confessed to anyone before. And it’s nerve wracking. 

Until night falls. 

And both of you are sitting in your living space, empty bottles of well aged sake he had brought from his home, laid strewn across the floor and both of you had been reduced to a pile of giggling, bumbling red-face messes. He had relaid to you a joke Tengen had told him, well tried to at least but he had completely butchered it in his drunken state which only caused you to laugh harder as you witnessed his buffering. 

“I-... wait! How did it go… Oh! No wait- that's not right- stop laughing! Y/N! Give me a second to recall-!” 

He said all this in between his laughing and blubbering, constantly squirming as he couldn’t stay in one place, beside you, whose head was spinning in light headedness as the drinks were catching up, hard. In your hysteric, you leaned over to slap him in the shoulder but missed it completely which caused your hand to brush down against the side of his stomach a bit harshly. 

It caught him completely off guard. The action sent a jolt through his body, jumping far away from your touch staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, the light bulb seemed to go off in your head, as he watched worriedly as your eyes lit up and an evil grin pulled across your face. 

He should have seen it coming. He was a Hashira after all. He should have been able to dodge such an uncoordinated lunge but he was matching you in the inebriated department since he didn’t drink often, well, at all really. And you guys just downed two bottles. Next thing he knew he was thrown to ground with you playfully straddling his thighs, unable to contain the boisterous laughter that tore through him at your merciless fingers. 

He doesn't recall the last time he’s let go like this. If ever. Or the last time he laughed this hard. He can’t and he doesn’t want to, since this moment, he was experiencing it with you and he was going to relish in it. Even if he wanted to squirm out of your ministrations, even as tears sprung into both your eyes from how hard you had been laughing. Even if it was getting painful. 

“Stop! Please!” he laughed, a loud boyish laugh tearing through him, his voice turning high pitched. It causes your heart to swell. You hop off him, ending your torture, curling into yourself in pain as you tried controlling your laughter, maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt so high in happiness. His laugh boomed throughout your house and you seared this moment into your brain, practically engraving it into your memories. 

“Shut up!” you cried in happy tears, “I’m gonna pee!” This caused more illogical laughter to go on for a few more minutes. By the end of it, you both were left panting and hiccuping, wiping the tears that streamed from your faces. Basking in the moment. 

Something overcame him and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, this was it, this was his chance, so turning to you, the look in his eyes so raw and vulnerable, but with a fire burning behind them as he said, “I love you.” You smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling so much it nearly obscured your vision, “I love you too Kyojuro.” 

(my sweet baby angel, i love him so much, the loml <3, he deserves nothing but good things, i will never forgive you akaza.)

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA (A SOFT DOM) WITH AN UNDENIABLE SIZE KINK 

There’s really no other way around it. 

Gyomei knows he looks intimidating to a degree. His stature alone has people unwilling to approach him, the whites of his eyes often have people feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the fact that he’s so emotional throws people for a spin. Have you seen the weapon he wields? Yeah, most people second guess even looking at him. 

But how can they not? He’s big. His simple presence demands attention. Gyomei is a dom without a doubt, not only is he the oldest of the Hashira, he’s the biggest and the strongest, and it's one of things that first caught your attention about him. Because not only is his personality nurturing, that man could protect you without breaking a sweat and that is so ridiculously attractive. 

You love his size. It’s impossible not to when he lifts you up so effortlessly with one arm, the way his large hand cradles your face so gently, his build practically shields you away from the world as you walk side by side. Your small hand gripping his finger tightly, too small to actually hold hands with him comfortably. 

But it took you guys some time to get to this point, where he is no longer self conscious about his size -a small insecurity he developed after getting with you- where it no longer eats away at him whenever he tries to do anything with you. Gyomei never really thought of finding love, it was never something he saw in his future so he didn’t think much of his size, until he met you.   

Both you and Gyomei have a size kink. Yours has always been present but Gyomei's was one he developed after getting past the fear of hurting you. I mean, he's always going to be bigger than any other human and with his lack of romance, he's never really thought about it any other way besides gaining strength. But with you, Gyomei can appreciate his body even more, because not only can he save others with his superior strength, now he has the honor of protecting you and pleasing you.

You love how massive he is and how gently he treats you. Gyomei could, quite literally, tear you in half and rearrange your guts, but he doesn't and the thrill alone is enough to get your body ready enough to take him. He of course ignores your pleading, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he deems you ready enough. 

By that time you’re completely boneless, unable to think of anything else besides Gyomei. Consumed by thoughts of Gyomei. He’s everywhere. His towering frame above you, his large hands covering your body, his lips engulfing your own. His smell is everywhere, covering your senses. He’s everywhere. And yet you can’t get enough. 

He loves how needy you get, he loves fucking you dumb to put it simply. He loves that he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else (not that you would ever even imagine being with anyone else). The size of his finger inside you reaches a spot that even your largest partner before him could never reach. HIS FINGER. When you told him this he felt a primal satisfaction he had never felt before. 

He loves how small you are. Doesn’t matter what size you are, you will always be small compared to him. He loves how soft you are, how squishy and plump. Gyomei is definitely into body worship, he's the type to view the body as a temple and the fact that you're sharing it with him??? He's weak in the knees. He can't see but he doesn't have to, to know that you're absolutely gorgeous.

He loves how he’s too big for him to fit in your mouth but goddamn do you try. You try your hardest for him. Until there’s tears streaming down your face in frustration, he only knows because he can hear your sniffling, he’ll put out of your mouth gently with a “What’s wrong baby?” And you’d whine at him, voice hoarse as you tell him “Just wanna please you.” It would swell his heart to hear. You’re so cute. Tears would well up in his eyes undoubtedly.

He’d have you trembling with his finger alone, by the time he actually gets to slide into your warm, juicy walls, you’d be shuddering and gasping underneath him. Gripping onto his arms tightly as you’d be reduced to nothing but tears and incoherent sentences at the over stimulation. Something neither one of you will ever get used to. You're sure you'd be drooling as well but thanks to whatever shred of rational thought you have, you save yourself the embarrassment from doing it.

“One… two…” He’d count out loud with each push of his hips, counting down the number of inches you’d take before tapping out. Sometimes you can take his full size, on those days, Gyomei has to restrain himself so much he’s literally shaking above you as he tries not to pound into you relentlessly, dreaming of using you as a cock-sleeve. 

He can feel the bulge as he settles inside you, a large hand traveling from your hip to your soft tummy. He’s groaning at the touch, biting his lips harshly to stop himself from spilling filthy praises, unable to believe you can take him.

Instead he opts to roll his hips deeper into you, hardly pulling out, as he can feel a particularly hard part inside you that lets him know he’s reached your limit. He presses himself deeper into your womb, your walls constricting and fluttering around him endlessly, your body stuck between trying to push him out and suck him back in, all too much for Gyomei who unloads inside you with something short of a roar. You'd cry out, following soon after him, as you feel his seed deep inside you, warm and gushing, leaving you feeling absolutely swollen and satisfied. 

He’ll get off you and take a moment to just sit and bask in the ambiance, admiring his work. Both of you are drenched in a combination of juices (he could feel how drenched he is, you're no better, he can only imagine), he could hear you both panting and breathing heavily, both have tears of pleasure streaming down your faces. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it. Which is a bit of a problem because his stamina is insane and he could do it all over again.. it's a good thing you enjoy the challenge. And it's even better that he's so merciful, he knows your limits and will never push you past them without your permission.

He loves cradling you afterwards, you’re unable to move much without whining tiredly. Your shared bed is on the floor, even if you wanted something more western style, there’s no bed frame that could accommodate to the weight and height of Gyomei. He would pull you onto his chest, nestling you safely into his arms. Whispering and murmuring heart warming praises to one another, he silently prays for your relationship and for your safety before he falls asleep.

(i love this big teddy bear, he needs more love!)

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GIFS OR CHARACTERS

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D Please do let me know if I should make these longer or shorter. I am open to suggestions and feedback (as long as you're nice, I got a tender heart pls be nice to me).

That's it cuties, I hope I was able to make some of your hearts flutter and add a bit more to yours guys spank-bank collection lol.

If you wanna send any requests please make sure they adhere to these rules, these are the fandom's I write for as well, don't be shy!

/) /) ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ) / づ づ ~ ♡

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Hello hello,dearie!!

How are you,good?

My name is Nina or Weewoo,self proclaimed platonic (Hazbin) asker!

I have seen your platonic works,and I have to say,you've peeked my interest,darling!

The way you write is very wholesome and cute,so please,indulge me in an ask!

May I request a Zestial,Rosie,Alastor,Vox,Husk,Charlie and Carmilla (you may remove,replace or add character as you so please! I simply like to give a character list so you can choose!) with a platonic!child!reader that loves art but gets really messy with it? A little energetic artist.They're all giddy and happy getting everywhere with the rainbows and sunshines. Maybe one time they get really upset because they messed up,and they start to cry? (If you need an age approximate,maybe 6-10 years old?)

I hope that not too much info!!

Have fun writing this,don't forget to drink,eat,and take breaks!!

Have a fantastic day,honey!

Stay proud.

-Nina <33

A/n: My shift key fell off so I'm having a hard time with that. Sorry if I accidentally didn't capitalize something! (I planned to also do Vox but I couldn't think of anything, I'm so sorry!)

!!not proofread!!

Roise: Doesn't care that you are messy with art at all! She'll make sure you don't stain or break anything but besides that she lets you go wild. Would probably give you your own art room. Is also very sad when you mess up. She hates seeing you sad. She draws with you to help you feel better.

Alastor: He likes you but stay away from him when painting. He would rather keep having a red suit, rainbow wouldn't suit(ha) him. Though he does give you room to paint and draw where you want. All those spaces are suspiciously close to Husk. Tries (and likely fails) to comfort you when you mess up. Might draw with you to help you smile again. After all, you're never fully dressed without a smile.

Husk: Talks to you while you draw. Kind of like you are a drunk bar patron lol. But instead of their insecurities it's what animals you like (or maybe about your insecurities too.) Very grumpy especially when you get paint on him but he does care deep down. For example, when you mess up he helps you calm down. Gets you some chocolate milk or apple juice or whatever you want <3.

Charlie: Very supportive! She'll draw with you!!! Happy to help get you supplies. While she gets that you're a child and usually wouldn't be that upset about making messes, Nifty keeps giving you death glares and she doesn't want to risk anything. Feels bad when you're upset. She'll get you anything that she can help to make you calm down, and also does a group session on learning about healthy coping mechanisms. It's supposed to help you not break down but everyone in the hotel, including her, could use it.

Carmilla: She has two kids so I'd imagine she has some experience. Hangs your art on the fridge like a true mother. While she does like you being hyper and happy she doesn't think the house needs a new paint job. She'll try to make sure you get most of your paint and markers on the paper. Like I said she has two kids so she is great when comforting you when you mess up. She'll encourage you to try again and might even draw with you if that helps.

[miistymemorii]

SFW ALPHABET

Nami

warnings: just fluff !

Affection

In public, Nami isn't too keen on showing affection. It's not like she completely ignores you, but she more so sticks to looks of affection and longing instead of clinging to your side. In private, Nami is much more physically affectionate. She likes cuddling, being the bigger spoon, and playing with your hair. Whenever she is the little spoon, after much resistance, you can feel her shoulders relax as she settles her head on your chest.

Best friend

I think if you were with Nami your best friend in the crew would be Luffy. The entire crew loved you, but you and Luffy found a childish solace in each other. You were constantly pulling pranks, keeping silly little inside jokes, off to the side giggling.

Cuddles

Like I said before, I think Nami would really love cuddling you, but in the comfort of your private space. It her time to ground herself, running her fingers delicately over your arms and shoulders as she holds you close. Your breathing syncs up, a lazy smile on her face as she soaks you in.

Domestic

The idea of domesticity is completely foreign to Nami, but that doesn't mean she isn't curious about it. The domestic life she experienced had been short lived, but she knew what it was to be loved, and she knew that's what she wanted with you for as long as you'd have her. She'd see a future with you, settling down, a simple life, even if it took a little dirty work to get there.

Ending (if they had to break up, how would they do it)

If the two of you had to break up, Nami would def be the one to break it off. She couldn't except any other way, so she would save both of your breath and make things short. Her seeming indifference to breaking off your relationship is a front, of course, because separating from you would break her inside.

Fiancée (how do they feel about marriage)

Like I said with Domesticity, I think Nami would want something like marriage, even if she has no idea how it's supposed to work. The first time someone jokes about how the two of you fight like an old married couple, Nami freezes, but later that night, she casually asks you if you'd ever thought about getting married. I think she would see a nice ring at one of the many markets the crew came across in their travels, and she buys it, slipping it onto your finger in the private of your room on the boat.

Gentle

I think Nami is a very gentle lover, albeit a bit of an awkward one at first. She can be standoffish and aggressive to others, but never to you, although in the beginning of your relationship she didn't quite know how to show her affection. Still, gentle touches and private words of affirmation were her specialty.

Hugs

Nami's hugs are the best. Your senses are flooded with her when she draws you into her arms, inhaling deeply at her scent, her hair softly ticking your cheek, her arms tight and warm around your middle. She likes hugging because when your chests meet, she can feel your heartbeat against hers, and it brings her a sense of calm.

I love you

Most likely, you'd say "I love you" before Nami. That doesn't mean she doesn't love you already but saying it out loud is different than keeping her feelings inside, which she's used to. When you say, "I love you", Nami will freeze, but I think she would quietly tell you she loves you back. After the first time, she says it as much as she can, because she always thinks that she never knows if it'll be the last thing she says to you, and she never wants you to doubt or forget how she feels about you.

Jealousy

Nami trusts you, so she is never jealous, but she doesn't trust other people, so she is definitely watchful when the two of you are out late at night, most likely at a bar, the other members of the crew too drunk to even register that a drunken patron was flirting with you. Nami will let you speak for yourself, but if you were too drunk or too tired to put up a fight, she will swiftly turn down anyone who comes your way, and she certainly isn't afraid to pull her staff out and kick anyone's ass that is bothering you.

Kisses

Like all other forms of affection, Nami likes to keep things private. She kisses softly and tenderly, unlike the rest of her character. She also touches you softly, her hands snaking around your waist to draw you close as her lips dance against yours. She'd never admit it out loud, but you knew from the blush that would cover her face that she was particularly fond of kisses to her cheek and forehead, quick ones you'd leave when no-one was looking.

Little ones (kids)

Nami wouldn't even know where to start with a child, but she would know to love one if the two of you had one. She would reminisce on her own mother, how she had cared for her and her sister no matter what situation they had been in. I don't think either of you would have a formal parenting conversation, but you could see the misty look in Nami's eyes whenever the two of you walked by a child with their mother, a small smile on her face whereas before she met you, she would frown, pained by her history.

Morning

Nami is definately an early riser, and she will silently slip out from your slumbering embrace to go about her morning routine. She's usually back by the time you're waking up, gently nuzzling her nose against your cheek as she whispers good morning praises in your ear. She'll chat beside you as you catch up with your morning, just lingering around you simply to be close to you.

Night

You and Nami go to bed together, so your nighttime routines are essentially synced up. Washing up the best the two of you can (i have no idea how they bathe on boats but in my head the entire crew is nice and clean moving on), changing into your nightclothes, before you finally crawl up in bed beside her, her arms wrapping around you on instinct. She'll always spend a few minutes talking to you, recapping the day before yawning, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, and whispering a goodnight before the both of you drift to sleep.

Open (how revealing, comfortable, open are they)

Nami is very closed off when you meet her, but she opens up to you quicker than she ever has with anyone else. It doesn't even take her getting drunk, like she usually does, instead she just feels like you're a safe person to confide in. You make it very clear very quickly that you would never judge her, and after you take the initiative and share some of your past with her, she shares herself with you. She has her moments of doubt, worried she might still be the same person she used to be, but the way you listen and sympathize with her as she confides in you reassures her that she's changed.

Patience

Being with the Strawhats, Nami has learned a lot about patience. I don't think she would necessarily feel like she needs to be patient with you on the regular, unlike with Luffy or Usopp. The only time she really has to practice patience with you is if the two of you are arguing, because Nami knows that she's used to just running away from confrontation, which she doesn't want to do with you. She also has a lot of patience for you whenever you get into a slum, or dark mood. It's like she can read your mind, the way she seems to know whether you need space or to be held, or if she just needs to be an ear for you to rant to.

Quiet time (what is quiet time like with them/free time)

In her quiet time, Nami likes to haul you to the Crow's nest. She likes to sit and look at the sea, her mind swirling with the maps she's made over the years. She'll have you snuggled to her side, the both of you taking turns watching the waves while the other one reads aloud from one of the many books she likes to pick up on the islands. Sometimes the two of you will lug up a small knapsack with snacks, having a picnic up there.

Remember (fav memory about the relationship)

Her favorite memory from your relationship actual came from slightly before the two of you made things official. This was when the crew landed on a small island, seemingly deserted, and had a bit of a beach day there. It was one of her favorite memories overall, but on that day, after spending the hot afternoon on the sand and in the water, the two of you had set out for a private walk a little further down the beach. You had tugged Nami aside, telling her you wanted to find a seashell or other small reminder that you had visited the island. She had helped you find some small shells, two of which were near identical, so of course you had given her the matching one. Before the two of you had reboarded the ship, Nami surprised you by pressing a small kiss to your cheek. It was new territory, making the both of you blush before going off to your respective rooms. That night, she had come to terms with her feelings for you, and from that moment on she felt comfortable being affectionate with you.

Security (how protective are they)

(I kind of talked about this is Jealous but) Nami is extremely protective of you, in her own ways. She is protective of the whole crew, that was her family, and she loved them as fiercely as such, but the protectiveness she reserved for you was different. She always had her eye on you, making sure she could step in if you needed her too. In the earliest stages of your relationship, she had been a bit more aggressively protective, but she learned how to cool herself down for you.

Try (how much effort do they put in)

Nami puts a lot of effort into your relationship, in her own way. She likes her privacy, so all of her affection is shared in the quiet of your room. She will buy you little trinkets in the cities that you and the Strawhats pass through, sheepishly presenting it as you sit in the small window seat in her room, her blush illuminated by the moonlight. She is the kind to give you pointed looks, ones where you're reminded that she loves you, adores you, and all the other things she had listed as feelings she had for you.

Ugly (how do they react to your insecurities? What about their insecurities?)

I think that Nami has plenty of her own insecurities, so she understands that you'll naturally have them too. Of course, Nami thinks the world of you, but she knows that doesn't change how you feel, and her understanding is something that brings you so much comfort. She lets you vent, she listens with a frown as you list off everything you think is wrong with yourself, before she holds you close and gently assures you of your value.

The thing Nami would be the most insecure about would be her image How she comes off to others has never been something she cared about before, but with you, she wants to be perfect. The wall she's put up after years of burying her insecurities takes a while to come down, but eventually she realizes that you'd never judge her, and that she was good enough for you.

Vanity (how groomed/consumed with their looks are they)

Nami isn't vain, but that doesn't mean she doesn't take care of herself! She tries her hardest to make sure she can bath as much as she can, she dresses comfortably but never drab, and she takes special care of her teeth, because one time you noted how beautiful her smile was. All that aside, she also likes when she can dress up nice, though those occasions were rare.

Whole (do they feel incomplete without you?)

I think after Nami realizes she is truly and deeply in love with you, she does feel incomplete without you. The two of you are hard to separate, but on the rare occasion that the two of you are apart, she is anxious until the moment she lays eyes on you again. She always hugs you a little longer and tighter than normal when she hasn't seen you for a while.

Xtra (random headcanon)

Nami likes to mess with your hair while she rants. She will stand behind you and complain feverently, mostly over the male members of the crew, all while brushing and braiding your hair intricately, just to let it fall loose and start over again as long as she needs to.

Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, in a partner or just in general?)

Nami has a short temper, so I think that little pet peeves such as messy eating or smacking your lips would piss her off. She would try her hardest to come to you sweetly and gently, but if the problem persists, she will just silently correct you.

Zzzz (sleeping habits)

Nami is a light sleeper, but she can fall asleep right away. She always insists on being the bigger spoon, and after she falls asleep with you cuddled up to her for the first time, she decides that she can't sleep any other way. Even if she just wants to take a nap, she'll flash you her begging eyes before dragging you into her bed, her fingers ghosting over your back as she drifts to sleep.

[weiyingsbigbooty]

ah velarik my beloved, i had to draw them again! Alarik is very overprotective and posessive of Vera, but she thinks his behavior is cute (both are a bit deranged). tried drawing lighting for the first time incorporated with the background. honestly i didnt draw the background i just googled fantasy tavern and blurred it xd.

anyways i wrote a lil imagine for this scene so feel free to read it under the cut!

Alarik was sulking in the back corner of the inn's pub, looking over the people inside of it. Vera told him to ‘stay’, as she wanted to gather intel from the other residents and he would just scare them away and not get any information about their current case. Alarik doesn't think he's that scary, and Vera has called him adorable and the cutest on many occasions, but apparently the rest don't think that. Plus, she has given him another job, to listen to the whispers. Things people won't tell her because they are outsiders, and with his heightened hearing, he can hear everyone's heart beats much less the secrets they share under the comfort of the loudness of the pub.

On the other side, Vera was leaning against the tall island of the bar itself, stripped of any visible weapons and her red scarf, showing off the pale-grayish skin of her neck, collarbones and cleavage. She had the advantage of being a pretty little elf girl who shows off just enough to catch the attention of drunk patrons. And sooner rather than later, just a few minutes after she positioned herself three men surrounded her.

“Hey there sweetheart, care for a drink?”

“Only if you're paying.”

“Obviously.”

Vera flagged down the bartender, and ordered herself some wine that was paid by one of the men. She asked them questions as she sipped on her drink, and soon enough had information she needed. “Sorry boys, but I am retiring tonight. Have a long day ahead of me.” The half elf finished her drink in one go, and stood up to leave but was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

“Come on sweetheart, don't leave us now. We can make your night worthwhile.” His goons snickered as the man grabbed her jaw, his stinky drunk breath fanning her face. Feeling another presence behind her, she smirked. “Sure,” she was snatched out of his grasp and her back was pressed into Alarik's tall frame. She grabbed the assassin's jaw with her fingertips as he growled at the three men in front of them, his blood red eyes glaring from under the shadow his ink black hair casted on his face.

“If my Puppy agrees.” That drew another growl out of her puppy, which looked much more like a nightmarish creature than a cute little dog.

He didn't even have to do much but glare and barge his teeth under his mask and the three men were sent scrambling away from the two of them, throwing words such as ‘fucking freakshow’ and ‘crazy bitch’ as they made their way out of the pub with tails between their legs.

The patrons laughed at the unlucky men and went back to their drunk conversations.

Vera sighed and turned to face Alarik, cupping his face with both of her hands. “I guess they didn't like your answer, Puppy. Lucky enough they had loose tongues before you showed up.”

Giggling at him still glaring at the door, she turned him to face her. “You did a good job,” she kissed his cheek. “And a good job requires a good reward. Let's go up.” With that she dragged him up the stars by his hand, making a group of girls that sat by the stairs giggle as Alarik stumbled after her.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Recently I broke up with someone who was a mean drunk. In one of our last fights, when he was blacked out, he called all my paintings bullshit and damaged one of them. I think I can fix it but every time I look at it I think of him, and I'm questioning whether I have any talent. What if everyone is just being nice and they all think my art is bullshit?

i'm so sorry, sweetheart, that was an incredibly vindictive and hurtful thing for him to do and it's totally understandable that it caused you a lot of pain. i'm really proud of you for breaking up with him.

i think there's a lot of things i could say here about trusting your friends and not letting this one asshole ruin everything for you, but i think you're probably smart enough to expect me to say that, so i'm going to try saying something else.

first of all, since the awful thought is in your head, let's entertain the idea for a second - let's say your art IS bullshit and other people don't actually like it.

do YOU like your art? does your art make YOU happy?

you're not a renaissance artist drawing to please your patron, you're not painting portraits for a royal family - you're making YOUR art for YOU. do you enjoy making your art? do feel pride when you complete a piece and see the finished work in your hands? does it make you happy to share it with other people and to dream about the next thing you want to work on? does it feel fulfilling and satisfying to look at your work and know that you MADE that?

if all that's true, then it wouldn't actually matter if your art was "bullshit", because humans don't just make art for other people to admire. the creative process itself is valuable and worth doing, no matter how "ugly" the result.

then there's the fact that "good art" is wildly subjective. let me tell you a secret: i don't really like van gogh's work. i mean, starry night is cool, but every other painting of his i've seen, i just don't really get the hype. i think a lot of them are kind of ugly. i sure as FUCK don't get rothko. practically every day i see a drawing on tumblr with like 10k notes and, to be frank, i think it's hideous. then i see a gorgeous drawing with 200 notes and i'm like, why doesn't this have 10k notes?? i can't watch the spiderverse movies because, even though it's technically genius, the jerky art style really bothers me.

even if 10k people hated your art, 10k more would love it. and even if your closest friend didn't like it, that could simply be because it doesn't match their personal taste.

and lastly... ask yourself if you actually WANT a mean, vindictive drunk to like your art. i mean, i'm pretty proud of my writing, but i'm also pretty proud of who would hate my writing. i don't want miserable assholes to enjoy my craft. a person who hurts other people doesn't like what i do? good. fucking choke on it.

i know, i do, that validation means so much to creators. i know that getting comments and kudos on my fic is a thrill, and makes me more excited to write. i haven't gotten any hate, thank goodness, but i'm sure it'd be really upsetting if i did. and yet, i know that i have to write for me, and that outside validation, while nice, can't be the pillar that props up your creative process. it's too unstable, too easily knocked out from under you.

fuck that guy. your art is yours, and it will only improve the more you do it. create for spite, create for grief, create for love, create for hope. create because you are an artist, and no one gets to take that away from you.

[kiwicopia]

Hi ! I’m here for a Genshin impact and Hsr romantic matchup with a male character

Sexuality : Straight

In my free time I enjoy reading, playing video games, listening to music, doing crochet, drawing, learning new languages, dancing and swimming.

Apparence : Long wavy/almost curly light brown hair and almond shaped brown eyes. I’m pretty tanned. 5’4,so I’m kinda short and normal weight though on the curvy side(I have a pear shaped body).

So about my personality: my mbti is intj, enneagram 5w6 I’m mostly withdrawn, individualistic, introverted and very honest even blunt at times. I need a lot of alone time.When im with people i’m close with, I tend to be more cheerful and energetic, im also quite sarcastic. One of the thing that stands out the most about me is that I’m extremely determined, ambitious and eager to learn new things. However, I do have some very specific subjects/ hobbies I tend to get hyper focused on.I’m also very observant and attentive which makes me a good listener, especially for my friends who I value very much and try my best to be considerate with( for example by avoiding being too blunt).

I can be very anxious at times and I’m extremely cautious with people I don’t and sometimes do know, I have a hard time opening up and I’m an over thinker.

I suffer from insomnia and probably a bit of social anxiety too, and I absolutely despise small talk. my love language is physical touch and act of services.

For Valentine’s Day I think I would just like a cozy day at home, like just spending the day lazing around together, cooking together, reading together, that would be great !

Thank you very much!

Diluc grew fond of you the more time you spent at Angel's Share, sitting in a corner and nursing your drink. He kept a watchful eye on you, making sure drunk or flirtatious patrons wouldn't bother you. That, and because he grew to like you. The more time went on, and he finally initiated contact, the more he learned about you and soon fell in love, hard. Diluc is quite a spoiler with gifts, but he always chooses the ones with the most meaning. Items that always showcase his love for you, that let him know he's been listening. Having a romantic day indoors is fine with him. He'll cook dinner, and he doesn't mind if you help. He loves the time you both spend together and cherishes it, which is why he tries to make today as perfect as possible. A nice meal with his darling, and a few sensual kisses to let you know how he truly feels about you.

Opposites attract, and that's exactly what Aventurine believes. His initial approach with smalltalk failed when he realized that you hated it, but he didn't give up. He was able to get past all that after a few more attempts, and didn't hesitate to want to call you his. The blond loves that you enjoy physical touch, because he always has to have a hand touching you in some way. Holding yours, on your shoulder, your hip, your back, etc. It's just a way to let him know that you're still there and still with him, that you're real and not a figment of his wild imagination. He's a bit bummed that you don't want to go out to celebrate this special day, but the thought of a cozy night indoors gives way to other ideas. An adept cook who doesn't mind showing off for you in the kitchen, and he gets even more of an ego boost when you compliment his cooking. It's a night well spent with you, and he'll end it with a few kisses if you let him.

[icxnvc]

If you’re hearing MERRY-GO-ROUND OF LIFE by JOE HISAISHI playing, you have to know MI-JUN "MICAH" LEE (HE/HIM; CISMALE) is near by! the 24 year old EMPLOYEE AT FINDERS KEEPERS / WANNABE ARTIST has been in denver for, like, THIRTEEN YEARS. they’re known to be quite SPINELESS, but being GENTLE seems to balance that out. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those SOFT SWEATERS, SHAKING HANDS AFTER CONFRONTATION, AND AWKWARDLY LONG BLANK STARES  vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough!

Basics:

Name: Min-Jun Lee

Nickname: Micah

Age: 24

Birthday: January 14th

Occupation: Employee at Finders Keepers / Wannabe Artist

Sexuality: Bisexual

Residence: Lakeridge

FC: Lee Seung Gyu

Appearance:

Height: 6'

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Tattoos/Piercings: None

Scars: A few, but they're hidden

Aesthetic:

If Micah could be a walking cherry blossom, he would be

Light colors, baggy clothes, sweaters that cover his hands, the color lavender

Bio: tw: abandonment, anxiety, mental health

Micah doesn't remember much of the town he grew up in, though he knows it isn't Colorado

In fact, he doesn't remember most of his childhood except for brief flashes of things in his nightmares and the few photos he has that were in his backpack

He's never gone looking for his family or his memories because if they didn't want him, he doesn't want them

When Micah was 11, his parents took a bus into Denver, and when they got on the next bus, they didn't take him with them

He spent hours in the bus terminal until somebody called the cops to pick him up.

The only reason he knows his name is from the tag that was attached to his backpack. The backpack contained a few pictures, a few changes of clothes, and a stuffed animal

The next three years were full of foster homes that didn't have enough patience for the boy who didn't want to speak, or otherwise replied in a language they didn't understand. He doodled a lot, and for a while, drawing became his main form of communication.

It wasn't until he was nearly fourteen that somebody thought to try getting a translator for him, and it helped. He'd been learning English since he was picked up, but it still wasn't comfortable for him.

By the time he ended up with his current family, he was mostly conversational in English, but still borderline mute. He let other kids pick on him, let adults boss him around, and then some, all while staring off into the distance as if it wasn't happening.

Micah blossomed with his final placement. He grew confident enough to speak, though he was still the quietest of his siblings, and his personality became so much more than "the weird kid in the corner." They adopted him when he was seventeen.

Micah still draws, he even went to college, just a local state school, and sees his family.

College was where he figured out his sexuality, having spent many nights tipsy and making out with any pretty boy or girl that looked at him twice.

Now, he works at Finders Keepers and dreams of what he could do next

Connections:

Friends: You can't go wrong with some pals

Enemies: Micah probably wouldn't have started shit, but he is an easy target

Romance: He's bi, he's shy, and he will not make the first move. If he gets flirted with, he turns red from the tips of his ears all the way to his toes. Though, he's a flirty, giggly drunk. Do with that what you will.

Friends of his family: Micah has 3 siblings, somebody probably knows them, and they might recognize him because of them

Shop Patrons: He works a lot of hours at Finders Keepers, running into him there is highly likely

Comfort Zone: Somebody needs to push him out of his comfort zone, it could be you

The Flirt: Could be a joke or for real, Micah won't know he's being flirted with, let alone know if it's for realizes. Once he does, he's a cherry tomato at all times.

Gym Buddy: You'd never know it looking at him, but Micah is built. He usually goes to the gym alone, but maybe they made friends at the gym, or they think they can help him out.

Date Night: Micah doesn't really go on dates, he's terrified to ask people out, but he would go if somebody asked. He might go because he'd feel bad saying no, but maybe not.

Fuck Buddy: He's not a virgin, but he might as well be. Somebody could fix that.

[nicawlette]

A  FUCKED  UP  KISSING  MEME

@nobully asked: 💔 i am ready

18. a  kiss  that  draws  blood.

She wasn't not drunk— not that much, at least. Not enough to be unaware of what she'd done, or was doing. Not enough to forget it all tomorrow.

Just enough that loose inhibitions had all but disappeared during her time spent at various bar counters, laughing and flirting with whatever patrons had been chosen to keep her company before she'd set off for her next destination. Nicolette preferred not to look too deeply at all the things that had led to her spending the evening like this, eager to turn everything hazy around the edges.

The problem with letting go of inhibition, however, was that she lost the restraint she already possessed so little of. Emotions ran high, volatile, ready to take the place of logical thought with the slightest provocation. It was a dangerous cocktail that often got her into trouble.

It was precisely why Nicolette finds herself sitting in Wang Yi's apartment with her shirt rolled up, biting cheek and tongue through the stinging pain of antiseptic being dabbed against the ugly wound on her waist. She's not drunk, but somehow sentiment had won out above all rationale, leading him to be the first name she thought to call as she'd sat bleeding in the alleyway behind the bar. He hadn't sounded too happy to be woken up so late and just as anxious as the first time she'd called him for reasons like this, but even so... he'd answered.

And then he showed up.

❛ I'm not going to the hospital. ❜ Had been the very first thing she'd said when his feet came into view, and she must've expressed just how nonnegotiable it was from the start because, miraculously, he hadn't argued. Still, an acute sense of dread had filled her, that he might just leave, and while Nicolette could realistically take care of herself just as she always had, it would be a nightmare. And... she didn't want to be alone. ❛ Take me to your place— it's closer, and I risk running into Zhilan if I go back to the apartment... we can't worry him. ❜ We, because it was the best way she knew to convince him.

Thank God for little miracles. It had worked, and she's only half regretting it as Wang Yi nudges his fingers a little too firmly against the split flesh. She hisses sharply through her teeth, and he surprises her by murmuring a soft ❛ sorry ❜ despite his apparent annoyance. Nicolette won't dare to fool herself into believing he's actually worried... that this gentle care is anything other than an effort to preserve the flimsy facsimile of normalcy he's created for himself by acting like a good person. Still, it's enough to make warmth bloom within her chest, right alongside a dull ache.

Another bit of rough prodding causes her to flinch away from his touch, a gasp of pain leaving her lips as they pull into a grimace. ❝ Oi, nurse, you're patching me up, not dissecting me like a goddamn frog! ❞ Nicolette turns to shoot him a warning look, but the expression on his face gives her pause. She manages to catch him tearing his wide eyes away from her expression of pain just in time, but he's not quick enough to play off the way his gaze lingers on her sluggishly bleeding wound, cheeks slightly flushed in a matching shade of red.

❝ Maybe if you stop moving around so mu— ❞ He starts to complain, a rather poor excuse, before her harsh bite of laughter silences him.

❝ Oh, I see. ❞ The words are drawn out and dripping with meaning. The cut on her bottom lip burns as Nicolette smiles, appraising Wang Yi with great amusement.

❝ I don't know what you're talking about, ❞ he argues, ❝ do you want my help or not? ❞ Knowing him, he's probably bluffing— there's no way he'll just leave her to bleed out, no matter how much she pisses him off. All she has to do is seem a little hurt, genuine or not, and he folds for her, every time. Is any of that real? Is any of that concern for her wellbeing or feelings actually directed at her as a person? Or is it another lie, one he won't let go of, even in her similarly twisted presence?

She decides not to think too hard about that, right now. Instead, Nicolette focuses on how that earlier warmth has dipped low to pool in her gut at the way he'd seemed so enraptured by her suffering. ❝ Are you sure it isn't you who wants something from me? ❞ She tests, reaching down to wrap scarred fingers around his thin wrist. ❝ You seemed awfully focused on something other than providing medical treatment, just now... ❞ Her grip tightens before letting go altogether. ❝ Do it again, ❞ she says, quiet and provacative, ❝ you know you want to. ❞

Emboldened by her open invitation, Wang Yi only appears to hesitate for a brief moment, as if waiting for her to lash out, before his firm touch returns to the edges of the injury and presses a little harder than necessary. Her brows knit, face pinching in discomfort as she makes a soft, wounded sound. He's wholly entranced, giving her his full attention in a way he hasn't before ( aside from the night he'd been drunk ).

She's always been addicted to that— being under someone's sole focus.

Nicolette realizes belatedly that her bottom lip is bleeding again as it's abused between her teeth, copper coating her tongue. Wang Yi seems to notice, catching the way a drop rolls down her chin. Of course, she notices that, too. ❝ Hey... did you still want to try my blood? ❞ The words come suddenly, surprising even herself, though she doesn't allow it to show.

❝ Yeah, kind of, ❞ he admits, before appearing suspicious, ❝ wait... you don't mean— ❞

❝ You don't hate the idea, do you? ❞ She interrupts, turning towards him on the stool to lean closer, unbandaged wound momentarily forgotten. ❝ Don't lie. ❞

❝ That's not— that isn't the point. ❞ There he goes, trying to make excuses, instead of just going with the flow. ❝ Plus, if I really wanted to, I have your blood on my fingers. That'd be much easier. ❞ Proving his point, Wang Yi begins to lift the hand that had fondled her just moments ago, bringing it towards his face.

Nicolette stops him just as quickly by grabbing his wrist again, yanking it away and in turn, pulling him closer. Her other hand grips his face, thumb and forefinger holding his chin in place. ❝ It's no fun that way, ❞ she scolds, clearly teasing. She's still thinking about the way he'd reacted to hurting her, and it makes heat rise to her cheeks in excitement. ❝ Come on, doc... ❞

❝ I don't think this is covered by your insurance. ❞ He snarks, though it's weak and clearly just for show. He makes no move to pull back.

❝ It's okay if you're too embarrassed to admit it... you can just push me away if you don't want to... ❞ That whispered warning is all he gets, and when no rejection comes, Nicolette does not allow herself to hesitate. She closes the distance between them quickly, angling his face towards hers by the hold on his chin. He seems cautious still, meeting her movement more slowly.

Their lips slide together wetly, aided by the slick fluid coating them from small cut. She hums curiously, deciding to make it easier for him. Fingers release his chin for a moment before grabbing his face, pressing into his cheeks and forcing his mouth open at the same time she lets go of his wrist to rest her hot palm atop his thigh, using it as leverage to lean against.

This seems surprise him enough that he bites down on her bottom lip on reflex, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. The cut splits further and floods their mouths with blood. He jerks, gasping audibly, but she follows after him even as he begins to pull away. ❝ It's fine, ❞ she reassures against his lips, breathless, ❝ keep going. ❞

He pauses for only a second longer before relaxing by fractions, returning the kiss with growing fervor. He's not as wildly eager as he'd been when drunk, too held back by his own thoughts. Still, it's clear he's enjoying himself, and she's pleased that his talent in this field is just as prominent while sober. Wang Yi doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, but settles for moving one towards the curve of her waist, settling it below the cause of this whole situation.

His fingers twitch like they're barely holding back giving into temptation, and even that soft brush against her tender skin causes some hurt— yet the muffled ❛ ah ❜ she makes in response is hardly one of just pain. Apparently, that proves to be ample motivation. He does not flinch this time, nor pull his hand away. Instead, he parts his lips further and their tongues meet at long last.

It goes on like this until she loses track of time. Until everything starts to feel a little hazy around the edges again. Nicolette had been sober since she'd called Wang Yi in the alley surrounded by unconscious bodies in worse shape than her, and knows that alcohol is not to blame. In fact, her side feels far too warm and wet, even if the press of Wang Yi's fingers against her flesh is pleasant. She's the one to pull away first, growing lightheaded from lack of air, among other things. They're both flushed and panting, and she notices that her hand had found its way to the nape of his neck while the other remains gripping his thigh.

Nicolette blinks slowly, breathing in deeply. Her voice is wrecked and her gaze is liquid hot as she confesses, ❝ I'd love to continue, ❞ and if that doesn't make him sputter, ❝ but I... think I might pass out, soon... ❞ There's only a second of confusion before he notices the state of her wound and pulls away, all heat replaced with outrage and panic. She closes her eyes, mildly disappointed, though a muted smile plays on her lips as she drowns out his questions and scolding.

❝ It's fine, ❞ the assurance is punctuated by another squeeze to his thigh, ❝ I've... lost a lot more than this, and survived. ❞

❝ Just... bandage me up... and let me sleep over, yeah? I'm tired... ❞ Maybe if she's lucky, her pitiful state and wildly impressive makeout skills will keep her from having to occupy his bed alone, this time.

[daimyosprincess]

OH HO HO SOME BOBA THOTS YOU SAY?? WELL DON'T MIND IF I DO!

@thirsty-boba-fett-posts always keeping us fed with Boba brainrot 😌 my contribution below the cut

18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

TW: f!reader, alcohol consumption, sexual themes

Ok ok ok so you've been tending bar in the palace for a couple months now

Previously, you were working in some dive bar cantina in Mos Espa and doing decent enough for yourself even if the shifts were long and the amount of blood you had to clean up at the end of the night from bar fights was more than you would've liked.

Fennec had taken to drinking at said bar (definitely because she has a thing for one of the waitresses and NOT because she "liked the atmosphere" as she claimed) and offered you a job at the palace after she saw you pull a blaster out from underneath the counter and shoot a man square in the chest when he tried to pull his own pistol on you.

Boba didn't pay it much mind when you started slinging drinks during the daily court sessions. Sure you're a pretty little thing with bright eyes and a dazzling smile, but he's an old bounty hunter with his hands full of running a crime syndicate--you wouldn't be interested in him.

You do your job well and your patrons love you. Boba is pleased. Why wouldn't he be? You're bringing in more credits than the sabacc tables some nights.

When Boba comes up to the bar, you have a whiskey neat ready and waiting for him with a wink and smile. He thinks nothing of that either, you're just doing your job. When court goes on too long and his back starts to hurt, a droid will appear at the throne with another drink and another smile from you when he looks up. It makes his stomach tighten. Must be the long hours on the throne.

He doesn't like it when spotchka drunk men and women lean over the bar to talk to you all close, sliding you credits like they would slide your clothes off too. You're trying to work, they shouldn't bother you like that. That's why your big eyes find his across the crowded room when you're smiling at them.

It's the cycle's Tribute Day so you've been behind the bar since lunch to serve drinks to the influx of people coming in to present their tribute to the daimyo. You're wearing a new outfit and it suits you. He's glad your tips here are better, good work should be rewarded. Maybe he should offer you a dip in the hot springs under the palace to relax from the long day. Maybe you'd wear something pretty then too. Maybe you'd wear it for him.

Boba likes your laugh, it crinkles the corners of your eyes and you never hold back when something amuses you. You keep laughing with that young flyboy of a smuggler--why is he here so early? cargo bidding doesn't start until tomorrow--and he keeps telling jokes. Boba likes your laugh, but he doesn't like that you're laughing with that boy, he's not looking at your smile. He's looking at your chest, your hips, your lips. Boba doesn't like it, but he forces his attention back on the tribute.

He gets through three more merchants when your sparkling laugh draws his eyes back toward the bar. You're bent over the counter, tits on full display, whispering something in that boy's ear. The young man's hand smooths up your bare arm and holds on to your bicep possessively, greedily, like you're his. Heat creeps up Boba's neck and blood rushes in his ears.

You blink your big dusky eyes up at him on the throne. It's like you can tell the daimyo's gaze is on you underneath his helmet because you smirk and bite your lip, raising your brows as if to say what are you going to do about it?

Kriffing brat, you want it don't you? You want to push buttons and play with fire. You want it, you want him, Boba Fett.

Boba's already half hard when your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. Fire spills into his veins. He wants you, he's always wanted you, he wants to hold you close and give you everything you've ever desired. He's wants to look at him, only him, like that. You're his own little burning sun and his dark heart aches for your light. He knows that now and nothing is going to stop him.

Being the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter back from the dead and the daimyo of Tatooine has it perks when it comes to clearing out a room fast. By the time he sets foot off the dais, you're the only one left in the cavernous throne room, polishing glasses and not looking at him stalking across the room like you're none the wiser to the havoc you've caused. Just for that, he's going to make you watch every single thing he does to that sweet little pussy.

You pretend to be surprised when Boba slams his helmet on the bar top, his eyes blazing. "Oh, is there something I can get for you, my lord?" you simper with big innocent eyes. He doesn't need his helmet's sensors to see the way your pulse is racing.

"Don't play coy with me, girl."

"What? Me? Is there a problem, mighty daimyo?" You fold your arms over your chest and stand toe to toe with him across the bar, utterly unrepentant for your behavior. Those bright eyes of yours gleam with desire.

"You think that boy," he spits out in disgust, "can give you what you want? Give you what you need?" Oh yes, Boba can see it all clearly now. All your little glances, winks, smiles, all of it that he had chalked up to be nothing, oh, they were everything. You want a challenge, you want someone to push back against you. You want someone to burn as hot as you.

You snort and roll your eyes. Maker, you know how to get his blood boiling. "Oh, he gave me exactly what I wanted," you drawl, reaching out to drag a finger down his chest plate with siren eyes. He snatches your wrist in tight fist. "You."

A couple minutes later when Boba has you bent over the side of his throne with one hand buried in your hair and the other buried between your thighs, he makes sure you scream that fact loud enough for the whole palace, and Mos Espa, to hear.

taglist 💖

@agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars @saradika @baufraus @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @historianwithaheart @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420@writingwintermoon @pheo-nixpas-calian @acatalystrising @erinthevampire @xxladysquishyxx @kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @wings-and-beskar

Boba Fett doesn’t realize that he’s down bad for you and then he sees someone flirting with you on Tribute Day.

Let’s discuss.

[katedrakeohd]

Cordonia 1885

Word count: 2470

Catch up on previous chapters

Author's Note/Warnings: Rated Mature.

Mentions death, blood, violence, and nudity.

............

Drake felt cold and lifeless in Bastien's arms as he swiftly carried him down the stairs. In the parlour below a wooden bathtub lined in a linen sheet was waiting, the water steaming. In the back of Bastien's mind he was hoping they weren't too late to revive him.

Meanwhile for Drake his own confused mind was telling him he was floating. Am I dead? Am I dreaming?

In his stupor he couldn't open his eyes, but muffled sounds filtered through to his ears. His mind tried to conjure an image, a reasonable thought of what was happening, but then it drifted away like a fog.

Then suddenly the floating feeling changed and he was falling through space, and he was powerless to break his fall. His mind reeled, his stomach roiled, and his muscles clenched painfully all at once, making him flinch.

His body was suddenly enveloped in an intense heat that pricked his skin and brought feeling rushing back into his limbs, causing Drake to let out a low groan.

Bastien stepped back after lowering Drake into the bath.

In his lethargic state, Drake slumps forward, his heavy head dropping his chin to his chest and his face splashing into the water.

Mary gasps, “Bastien, fix him before he drowns!”

Bastien cursed as he leaped forward, reaching under Drake's armpits to sit him back upright.

Tipping his head back, Bastien mutters, “Time to wake up, Son.” And then gives him a hard slap on the cheek to revive him.

The impact hits Drake like a kick to the face and he gasps, coughing the water out of his throat, his eyes opening wide with surprise. Startled to find himself naked in a bathtub, he draws his knees up and grabs the walls in an attempt to get out, causing water to slosh over the sides.

Bastien shakes his head, and places a hand on his shoulder to force him to sit down again. “Now, now Drake. We can't have you running around naked with a Lady present.”

Mary giggles as she holds Drake's bundle of clothes to her chest. “Oh, I don't mind at all.”

Drake raises his hand to his stinging cheek, and then glares at Bastien with indignation, “You..you struck me!”

Mary sits down on the nearby sofa, “Well it was either knock you about or let you drown in your own bath, so you're welcome.”

Bringing both hands up to his face, he realizes he's had a close shave too. He'd lost his own razor long ago and had resolved to just let his beard grow. The newfound smoothness of his skin spoke of a practiced and steady hand, and he assumed it had been Bastien's work.

He looks back and forth between Bastien and Mary and points an accusatory finger at her as a recent memory comes rushing back, “And you..you..she bit me!”

Drake's sudden anger makes his heart start to falter, and he brings his hand to his chest. At the same time he feels a dizzying sensation in his head, “Wha..what's happening to me?” he slurs his words as his eyes close and his body goes limp.

Bastien levels a piercing, disapproving glare at Mary and then raises his thumb to his mouth, he mumbles around it as he bites down. “You're dying, that's what's happening.”

Rushing forward to wrap his arm around Drake's chest, Bastien hauled him upright to prevent him from sinking back down into the bath water. Tipping his head back against his shoulder, Drake's jaw goes slack and Bastien lays his bleeding thumb across his lips.

“Just a taste is all we'll need to bring him back.” Bastien insists.

The dark blood pools around Drake's tongue, and trickles out of the corner of his mouth. Bastien frowns at Drake's inability to swallow it, giving him a gentle shake by the shoulders, and holding his mouth shut. “Come on, now. There's plenty in your mouth, swallow damn you.”

Drake sucks a sharp breath in through his nose, and then his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He was expecting the blood to be warm, but it was cold and thick like syrup. It burned going down his throat like some awful elixir from the apothecary shop, and it stung his nostrils as he coughed. Unlike the whiskey that he’d swallowed last that brought a welcoming warmth to his stomach, the blood caused an uncomfortable chill and queasiness that sent a shock to his lower gut. He didn't want to swallow any more of it, repulsed at how the rotten taste and feel of it in his mouth had assaulted his senses. If this was what drinking blood was like he wondered how vampires could thirst for it. But as soon as the queasiness passed, he strangely felt better, and his strength began to return.

Scooping up a handful of bathwater, Drake washes the blood off his face.

“I think it's time for some answers,” he says, angrily pointing a finger at Bastien. “What the hell do you two want with me?”

Bastien hands Drake a bar of soap and cloth to clean himself. “Get washed and I'll explain the best I can.”

Mary looks on eagerly as Drake lathers up the cloth, “Do you need any help, I could..wash your back for you?”

Bastien shakes his head as Drake stares at Mary in disbelief, “No, thanks. I think I can manage on my own.”

Mary's face falls in disappointment as Bastien makes a dismissive gesture to shoo her away. “Why don't you finish preparing your father's bedroom for Drake, and dispose of his dirty clothes. Make sure the curtains are drawn so the morning light doesn't leak in. After the events of tonight he's going to need several hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

Mary sets Drake's new clothes aside with an angry huff and then leaves. “Once a chamber maid, always a chamber maid,” she mutters as she stomps barefoot up the stairs.

Drake nods his gratitude to Bastien, hoping finally they could have the man to man talk he’s been waiting for. “Ok, then. Start talking.”

Getting up from his seat, Bastien starts to pace the room, turning his back on Drake to give him some privacy as he bathed. He clears his throat and then begins his story.

“As you know, I'm employed by the Beaumont family at the Ramsford Estate.”

“Uh huh,” Drake replies, using the cloth to wash his face and neck again. The smell of his blood was finally being overpowered by the soap, and he lathered the cloth repeatedly to make sure he neutralized all traces of it on his body.

“But I'm more than just their head of security. I belong to a secret society of night watchmen and stewards that have been in service to the noble houses of Cordonia for centuries.”

Drake crosses his leg over his knee to scrub at his foot. “And have you watchmen always been, you know..”

“Vampires?” Bastien finishes, as he goes over to the window to take a peek outside through the curtains. The inky darkness of night was giving way to the weak grey light of early morning. “No, only for the last 285 years.”

Drake frowns as he continues his bath, “That's an oddly specific amount of years, you sound as if you've been around long enough to count each one.”

Bastien sighs as he closes the curtains again, “That's because I have.”

Drake pauses to look at Bastien, still wanting to disbelieve the idea of vampires despite what he's already seen and experienced. “So what's Mary's part in all of this? She hardly seems like night watchman or guard material.”

Bastien sighs, looking up to see Mary sitting at the top of the stairs. “She was an unexpected, but surprisingly useful addition to my plans.”

“Oh, how?” Drake answers, cupping water in his hands and dumping it over his head to rinse the soap from his hair.

“I needed bait to lure you in.”

Drake blinks the water out of his eyes and wipes his face with his hands. “Why me? What am I to you, a meal or a recruit? And what makes you think I want to be either?”

“Did you honestly have any job prospects or any money in your pockets?”

Drake looks down at his boney bent knees jutting above the grayish water of the bathtub, ashamed and embarrassed to be so hopelessly destitute with nothing to claim as his own. “Well, no.” he says, quietly.

“Where were you going to sleep tonight, or what was to be the source of your next meal?”

Drake shrugs, remembering the dark alley next to the tavern where he often slept among the other drunks passed out in their own filth. He recalled the cool roughness of the brick wall that he'd lean against, and the ever present smell of piss and puke.

He looks over gratefully to the fresh clothing they'd picked out for him, down to his clean hands and body and then around to the comfortable home that was being offered for the night. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had afforded him such a kindness. But his gratitude was soon tempered by the fear that they were intending for him to give his life in exchange for this brief kindness.

“Ok, fine. I admit to having nowhere else better to go, tonight or tomorrow for that matter. Which explains why I might be tempted to accept whatever life you're offering. But it still doesn't explain why you chose me over any other poor lonely guy in the tavern tonight.”

Bastien snaps his fingers as Drake answered his own question. “That's just it Drake. You were alone and not engaged in talking to anyone. I'm assuming you have few if any friends and that you would hardly be missed if the tavern patrons never saw you again.”

Drake frowns at the implication that he couldn't make friends with people if he really wanted to. He liked being alone, and only engaged in conversation with people if they had something to offer him. Getting a drink from a bartender, the company of a willing woman, or the chance to finagle a few coins from some guys in a poker game was about as friendly as he wanted to be. All were limited interactions that required no commitment to being anyone's friend. He saw Bastien's point. He was a nobody and could easily become someone else entirely if he wanted to. Totally anonymous.

Drake looks around outside of the area of the tub, searching for something to blot himself dry so he could get dressed. As he stands up, Mary gasps at seeing him naked again. Bastien hands him a sheet to wrap around himself as he steps out of the tub. After quickly drying himself under the watchful eye of Bastien and the under the uncomfortable gaze of Mary, Drake pulls on the new clothes.

“Do I necessarily have to die to become part of this night watchmen society you belong to? Couldn't I be more useful on the day shift?”

Bastien waves off his concerns, “Any man off the street could be trained and become a day guard. But the worst threats to noble safety come at night. We move silently to neutralize threats before they breach the outer walls.”

“And if the moment arises to make a criminal your next meal, then it benefits the nobles and the watchmen alike.” Drake offers.

Bastien nods, “But we mustn't be sloppy or overly obvious that we’re feeding on any intruders. Any dead bodies are to be properly disposed of with minimal fang marks.”

Drake rubs his bottom lip feeling uneasy, “So does fresh blood really taste like what you gave me?”

“Oh, not at all,” Mary interrupts as she comes down the stairs.

“Living blood is much tastier. What you had was second hand, and quite dead.”

Drake looks from Bastien to Mary, scared all over again. “So..what happens now?”

Bastien places a hand on Drake's shoulder, the dead weight and strength in his grip was far from reassuring. “Your body needs to officially die before we can give you the gift of a new life.”

Drake's eyes go wide and he tries to swallow the sudden dry lump in his throat. “Bu..but I feel fine. Do we have to do this now?”

Bastien chuckles, leading Drake toward the stairs. “You're not dead yet, but after losing consciousness three times this evening already, death can't be far away. Based on the pallor of your skin, the hollowness of your cheeks and belly, you strike me as someone who drinks his meals more often than chewing them. If we hadn't found you tonight I wouldn't have expected you to live more than a few more months at best. Your body was already failing you and you weren't even aware of it.”

As they reach the bedroom at the far end of the hall, Drake panics feeling like a sacrificial lamb and tries to get away. Bastien wraps his arm around his shoulders and redirects him into the room. “If you bolt now, you won't get far. Would you rather die in the street? You’d probably stumble and injure yourself painfully as you wait to die.”

Drake stands nervously and waits for his alternative, “And if I don't run? What happens?”

“Just make yourself comfortable in bed and get some rest. You have 12 hours left at the most to make peace with this world and enjoy whatever daylight you can after you wake up. While sleeping will rejuvenate you somewhat, don't be fooled into thinking you can return to the life you once had. By sunset you'll be dead.”

Drake sits down on the end of the bed, “And if I were to go to the police and try to explain everything that happened to me?”

“I'd avoid the police, considering that the hotel housekeeper will be discovering you're missing any moment now. You're a wanted man, even if the blood you woke up in was actually your own.”

Drake sighs, running his hands through his damp hair, “Oh right, you have a point there.”

Mary sits down next to Drake on the bed, laying her hand on his knee. “We'll leave you some coins on the dresser. Go watch a show, get a last drink of whiskey, a last meal, but don't stray too far from the house.”

“Why not?”

“You need to be back here in time for sunset, so Bastien and I can help you finish your transformation. A little bit of Bastien's blood was enough to bring you back to this life, but it will take a lot more to get you to wake up into the next one.”

:::

Tagging:

@texaskitten30 @janezillow @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @pedudley @ravenpuff02 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @indiacater @kingliam2019 @walkerswhiskeygirl @bobasheebaby @emceesynonymroll @kimmiedoo5 @sirbeepsalot @xxrainbow-princessxx @losingbraincellseveryday @princessleac1 @nikkis1983

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 10 - Gogo

Disclaimer:  So, this story is PG. Basically anything you might see come up in an old 90s sitcom, like Boy Meets World, Fresh Prince, Save by the Bell ect, is liable to show up along with anything that the parent shows cover. Nothing unsuitable for family entertainment, but clearly covering more mature subjects than the original source material, including today’s chapter which discusses alcohol.

Varian was hot. The sun beat down on the back of his neck and sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He couldn't remember experiencing a hotter day. In Corona the temperature wouldn't rise more than a balmy 15 degrees Celsius normally, but today, here in San Fansokyo, it had to be close to 20 or more. His phone said it was 73 degrees Fahrenheit specifically, but he was still getting used to the different measurements Americans typically used. All he knew was that he had worn the lightest clothes he had, a tank top and athletic shorts, and he was still burning up. 

Unfortunately, there was nowhere to escape from the oppressive heat. He was standing on the sidewalk next to a stranger's house while Gogo worked on their car. She did repair work on vehicles as a side job. Often exchanging her services for a cheaper price to other students which in turn gave her more flexibility in what jobs she took and when. 

Right now she was helping out another student whose car wouldn't start and didn't want to call a tow to take it to a mechanic. Varian had expressed an interest in learning how automobiles worked, so she had agreed to letting him come along and teaching him some basics. However, there was nothing for him to do at the moment. Gogo was under the vehicle on a rolling board and there wasn't enough room for both of them down there. So all Varian could do was standby and watch, which was difficult as he couldn't really see what she was doing from the position she was in now. 

Instead he surveyed the street and surrounding buildings. There were the tightly packed three story townhouses behind them and on the other side of the street were clothing shops, apartments, a bank on the far street corner, and a single restaurant that read ‘Maggie’s Pub and Grill’. Varian licked his lips at the thought of drinking something cold and wet to stave off the blistering heat. He dug his hands in his pockets to check if he had any cash. He still had a fiver leftover from the twenty Wasabi had given him two weeks ago at the mall. 

“Hey Gogo, I’m going to go get a drink, you want anything?” He loudly asked the girl lying under the car.

“Uhhh, a soda would be nice. Maybe some Mr. Pep.” Gogo yelled back at him, never leaving her position or stopping her work. 

“I don’t know if they sell that there, but I’ll ask” and with that he walked away and headed across the street. 

“Just knock on the door and ask Ashley if she has any...” Gogo said distractedly, not noticing that Varian was no longer there. After a moment or two without hearing an answer, Gogo suddenly rolled out from underneath the vehicle. 

“Wait.” She said to no one in particular as she stared up at the sky and began to put together what had just happened.

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

Varian squinted his eyes as he walked into the dark pub. The establishment was empty save for the barkeep at the other end wiping down the counter. This surprised Varian. In his world a place like this would be packed at this time of day, filled with field workers and sheepherders stopping to take their mid-day break. Practically his whole village would be gathered at the local tavern to eat, drink, and share gossip before going back to work. Varian had figured it would be even more crowded here given the larger city and the heat of day. 

He shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, maybe the food here wasn’t all that good. Didn’t matter, all he wanted was a drink. He walked over to the bar. 

“Hi, do you sell any, what was it she asked for,” Varian waved hello at the man on the other side and then cupped his chin in thought as he tried to recall what it was Gogo had wanted. “Pep?” He finished.

The large man didn’t answer him back, only to wordlessly reach under the counter and pull out a can of the soda and set it down. 

“Oh, yes, that’s it. Also I’ll have your darkest ale, please.” 

“I.D.” The man said deadpan. 

“Excuse me?” Varian asked, not sure what the man was requesting. 

“I need to see your officially licensed identification.” The man explained tiredly, as if he had to recite this often. 

“Uh, I have my student I.D. if that’s what you want.” Varian said, confused, as his hand went back into his pocket to dig out his wallet and money.   

The big man gave a heavy sigh and pointed to a sign placed in front of the cash register. ‘In Accordance to Federal Law all Patrons must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol and must show valid I.D.’ It read.

“You need a government issued license or passport, kid.” The barkeep said with annoyance, clearly believing Varian was there to try and pull some scam.

Varian, however, could only stare at the sign in bewilderment, still frozen in place with his hand in his pocket. His mouth hung open in astonishment as he tried to process what was going on. The amount of reliance on forms and identification in this world was odd enough but now there were laws against beer? That was practically all anyone drunk in his world. Coffee, tea, and cocoa were expensive and meant as a treat, and the only drinking water to be had were from the community wells, the river being brackish that close to the sea, and you still had to take time to draw the water. Which you didn’t want to do every time you were thirsty. And while this world did have running water, less expensive hot beverages, and that sugary soda in abundance; he still couldn’t figure out why that would be the cause for preventing anyone from buying an ale, let alone people under such an arbitrary age. 

“But… but why?” He whined in confusion. 

Just then Gogo burst through the door, stormed to up to the front counter, and before Varian could complain to her about this dumb rule, she grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him back outside.

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

It wasn’t until they had made it back across the street did Gogo relinquish her grip on Varian. 

“What were you thinking!” She whirled on him angrily.

Varian only stood there and looked at her, still befuddled and ruefully rubbing his ear where she had pinched it.  

“You’re only sixteen!” She yelled, as if this was the most obvious explanation for her righteous anger.  

“So? You’re only eighteen.” He retorted back. As if she had any right to berate him in such a manner when she was only two years older. 

“I’m an adult,” She explained. “But that’s not the point. You’re a child. You don’t need to be drinking or trying to trick bartenders that you’re older.”

“I’m not a child!” Varian responded, properly angry now himself. “What makes you any different?” 

“I can hold down a job, pay rent, buy groceries, I can vote.” She began to list off what she thought were requirements for adulthood. 

“Sooo can you drink?” Varian interrupted as he pointed back to the bar. 

“Well, no.” She admitted, temporarily tripped up by that question. However, the smug look on Varian’s face renewed her annoyance with him. “You can’t even buy a hamburger without someone’s help.” 

“Just because I’m new to this world, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” He said, deeply offended by that last remark. 

“Oh really, and when’s the last time you had to buy your own food, or clothes, or live on your own?” She asked skeptically.

“I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen!” He snapped. 

Then just as suddenly he stiffened with surprise, he hadn’t meant for that to come out. Both he and Gogo stared at each other, herself equally in shock by his revelation. He quickly turned his head away, bit his lower lip, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He just stood there awkwardly unwilling to look her in the eyes.

For Gogo’s part, she felt her heart drop the moment he had said it. What did he mean ‘on his own’? Who’d leave a fourteen year old to fend for themselves? Didn’t he say he had a dad? But before she could ask for some clarity, Varian spoke again. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” He said defensively, “I didn’t know about the alcohol rule. It won’t happen again.” He put his hands up in defeat and then walked away from her and the conversion. Making his way back to the car, he picked up a wrench and began to tighten a socket. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but anything to keep himself busy and to avoid any more uncomfortable arguments. 

Gogo watched him with increasing worry. She wanted to know more, to help him, but she could tell from his stance and his behavior that he wasn’t willing to talk about it. She knew all about avoiding feelings and bottling up one’s problems. Not that long ago she had been a moody teenager who shoved people away, too. Heck, she still was a moody teenager that shoved people away. Though she had gotten better since she started college. It was amazing how much difference only two years could make. 

Before she had met Tadashi and her other friends, she had been a pretty lonely person. Constantly bullied in grade school and struggling with depression, she was considered the weird emo kid that always sat quietly in the back of the class. However, no matter how bad things had gotten, no matter how many fights she got into at school, nor now many times she cried into her pillow at night, she had always, always had her dad to turn to. Even now she still relied on the man, rushing to him to bare her soul when Tadashi had died, unable to bring herself to talk to anyone else about her recent loss. 

Who did Varian have? She wondered. If his father wasn’t there for him, then who did he turn to for help? Why had he even been left alone? 

Her thoughts were broken when Varian let out a yelp of pain. He had burned his hand on the hot metal and proceeded to stick his fingers in his mouth to suck on the injured digits, still not looking at her, embarrassed by his clumsiness.   

She let out a weary sigh. He was a mess. But so was she, and she didn't know how best to reach him. What would dad do? She thought. Try to get her to open up about a subject that she did enjoy or distract her with a project, she decided. 

"Sooo, Wasabi tells me you want to learn how to drive." Gogo said, changing the subject while she slowly made her way over to stand next to him. 

"Yeah." Varian agreed quietly, keeping his eyes on the engine, still choosing to not look at her. "But because I just moved here I wouldn't be able to get my license for another six months. I'm not sure I'll still be here by then." And with that he ducked back under the hood. 

This didn't sound encouraging to Gogo. If he truly was on his own then what was he going back for? But she knew bringing her doubts up would only push him away further. 

"Well, if you are still here in six months, you'll need a car to drive around in." She suggested instead. 

This grabbed Varian's attention and he finally stopped to look back at her. "Whatd'ya mean?"

"Well it's just, if you want to still learn how cars work, then perhaps we can build one, together. That way if Wasabi helps you get your license then you'll have your own vehicle to ride in." She continued slowly.

"You… you mean it?" Varian hopefully asked. 

"Sure, we can work on it in our free time." She said encouragingly. 

"Yeah? Yeah! That... that’d be great. I'd really like that." Varian agreed. 

He smiled appreciatively at Gogo and she returned it in kind. 

"Of course the first thing you'll need to learn is what socket you need to tighten or not." She gently teased, pointing to the socket he had busied himself with for the past few minutes to no avail. 

"Oh, right." He laughed in embarrassment and finally stopped trying to use the wrench. 

"Here, let me show you how to check the oil." She said and thus the day passed without further incident, just the two of them laughing and bonding over cars.

[bestwishes86]

Open Container

"I got a good feeling. It doesn't happen. Very Often." Phoebe Bridgers

When David got the call he was just sitting down in his living room with "Game of Thrones" on his 42 inch flat screen.  The fresh bowl of Pop Secret and a Heineken sat on the polished coffee table. Hadley was at the Tailgating party for the Puritans and he was on call with the station.  He had spent the morning cleaning the upscale brownstone once back from Seattle to clear his head. The drive with that gay asshole had fucked with him more than he wanted to think about.  So he had busied himself, not thinking about him walking out of the missing woman's shower naked.  He could still see the words in other languages and black swirls running across that pale skin.  As he had polished every surface he could still see the tattoos had covered even the plump flaccid cock between those thick legs.

His bookshelves were filled with paperback novels from the eighties and nineties and every Disney movie with the large white boxes and the faded art and a selection of dvds.  The books and movies had belonged to his parents and he couldn't bring himself to throw any of it away.  His wife Penelo had done the decorating and so three oil paintings of landscapes in polished wood frames hung on the walls on either side of the flat screen. 

David sat on the soft dark leather couch and was pulling his remote to him when his phone rang.  Internally he thought about ignoring it incase it was another call about cow tipping or another horrible trip to Seattle to pick up another gay asshole who smelled like honeysuckle and blood.  Seeing the name LInds on the caller id he grabbed it and swiped right to answer it.

"Deputy, do you know a Jon Redding?" the deep voice of the Siren by night hard as nails, raven haired woman asked. 

"Yes...why?" David asked slowly, staring at the burning emblem of the show and the paused status bar at the bottom of the screen.

"You should probably cut him off, he's down here talking about loving someone who didn't exist and getting thrown into posters and that's not what the boring patrons want to hear, now is it?" Linds asked as she looked at the usually handsome bearded man who looked ready to pass out or throw up sitting alone at a table.  The other customers were human ones and she had sung two of her magical songs to distract them from him.  David felt a headache building behind his furrowed brows but he still rose from the couch and hung up the call and grabbed his keys. 

Jon stared at his empty glass, his mind muddled by the many drinks that had come before as he thought about that alternate version of himself.  While he was a short, muscular young man covered in witches spells.  That dreamed up version was a chubby, pasty coward.  He missed feeling that weak and vulnerable and the way Pete had looked at him.  Jon shook his head at the memory of the tall, pale muscular teenager with those green eyes and that square jaw.  But it was too late, he remembered the dream Pete had been in and been gutted in.  Tears burned at the corners of his eyes

"It wasn't real, none of it." Jon shouted to himself and all the bar patrons glared at him as they had every outburst he had made in the last hour.  He knew it was stupid, knew it was a waste of emotion but those feeiings he had felt in that mental prison had become a part of him.  He had been quiet the entire drive back with that asshole homophobe because he was etching into his memory those three dreams because of Pete.  The witch he had planned on eating had trapped him inside her mental prisons had made the imagined world so real he had created real feelings. 

"This seat taken," a gruff pissed off voice asked and Jon waved a hand in acceptance and grimaced at the loud scrapping of the wood against the concrete floor. David plopped down and held a hand up for the waitress.  HIs brown eyes looking over Jon, the man had worn a dark blue sweater and jeans with loafers.  David thought about his old Smashing Pumpkins t shirt and pajama bottoms and barefeet. He chuckled at this but when the red in the face spikey haired man looked at him, his smile fell away.

"You...." Jon said growling in distrust

"Hey man, Heard you were drinking here so I came by too," David was cut off by Jon

"You came here dressed like that to drink with me, no offense but unless you're going to knock me out and take me back to your house for a hard fucking, i'm gonna pass." Jon said looking David up and down and reaching for his glass having forgotten it was empty.  He grimaced at the mere hints of alcohol in it and waved for the waitress while David glared at him. 

"Do you have to go straight to sex every time i meet you." David said between gritted teeth.

"We've met twice. Second, what else am I good for? Never mind that last point. You don't even know me is what I'm trying to say." Jon slurred in a voice that was something between indignant and a purr.  David rolled his eyes at him and Jon slumped back in his chair.

"Why would I want to? I'm just here to make sure you don't talk about shit you promised you wouldn't." David paused as the waitress appeared he ordered two Rum Punches and a Budwiser. 

"I didn't say you could buy a drink for me," Jon said as he closed his eyes

"I didn't, those are all for me." David said as he glared at LInds who waved apologetically. 

"Ok. Did the bartender alert you to me talking too much," Jon asked and Davd nodded.

"I just...never mind it's stupid once you're drunk we can leave," Jon said as the two red glasses and the bottle arrived.

"You want anything," David asked, his expression softened as he smelled the sadness coming off Jon and heard the pain in his voice. Jon reached for one of the rum punches and David smacked his hand.

"Mine," David said drawing the glass away from the drunkard, he continued, "I meant something else. I got you for it, I already covered your bill," David said and Jon thought about it for a moment and asked for a Bud Light.  David raised an eyebrow  but placed the order the two sat in heavy silence.  David occasionally glanced at the drunk man stare at the table and the empty glass, it was clear his mind was somewhere else. David finished his first drink and curled his toes on the cold floor.  Jon's beer arrived and David watched Jon drink half of it one go.  He watched the Adam's apple bob with each swallow before he looked away. 

"Have you ever missed someone you shouldn't," Jon asked and David sat up uncomfortable as he looked at Jon.  The image of the beautifully deformed half woman half wolf chained to walls in an institution flashed in David's mind.

"Yeah, hurts all the same." David said solemnly thinking of his wife.  His Alpha had told him to kill her, to end her suffering but he couldn't.  So he had driven her to that asylum and chained her up himself.  Her human mind was gone, buried inside the feral wolf mind that ruled that malformation.

"It really really fucking does.  In that place that woman held me, there was a boy my mind made up.  He was...kind to me.  The first person in my life to be kind to me ended up being my own imagination...how fucked is that." Jon said and as he admitted it two large tears began their descent down his cheeks.  They were soon chased by more and he quietly wept.  He didn't care if David said something else assholey to him.  If the bar patrons kicked him out, none of it mattered as he watched the large stainless steel meat hook burst out of Pete's broad chest.  His mind had drifted back to that nightmarish prison he had been kept in.  He and Pete had run from the blank faced woman up the stairs of his home to his bedroom and locked the door behind them.  It had happened so suddenly as they had caught their breath.  She had burst through the wood, her scream almost deafening as Pete had run at her with his chair as a weapon.  She had smacked him away so effortlessly and then glowered at him.

Jon had stood there frozen in horror as the woman took slow strides toward him, she had reached into that dusty overcoat and pulled the metal hook from it and it caught the light of the room and glistened.  He had wanted to brave, wanted to try something to save them but he had been so afraid.  Pete had run in front of Jon to save him from it in that made up nightmare.  Jon could feel the moment when life left Pete's body.  It was if something was pulled from his body, ripped away with that second in life.  It didn't matter if it was real or not, it had felt real to him. 

Strong hands were on his shoulders, he felt his body rising up as he was swung up into someone's arms but he didn't care.  He kept his eyes closed as he was carried out of the bar.  The cool night air felt heavenly on his face.  He buried his head against the hard flat chest he was pressed against.  Jon focused on the heart beating strong beneath the shirt and skin and muscle there.  It was real, in that drunken moment it was the only thing real to him.

David had felt his wolf howl in pain watching the quiet crying, he had tried to ignore it.  But that open honest act of feeling had struck him in the gut.  He had looked around and saw that the once loud raucous bar was silent as everyone watched Jon.  That had been what caused him to rise from his seat and carry him out.  Carrying the muscular man might have been hard for a normal man but for one with preternatural strength it was like carrying a newborn pup.  He ignores the gravel that dug into the skin of his bare feet as he listens to the steady heart beat.  Keeping Jon close to him kept his wolf from howling in mourning so he did.  Linds was behind him a few steps, she silently watched him, he could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way through the packed parking lot to his truck.   The tall, slender, dark haired woman wore a red velvet corset that pushed up her sizable chest and painted on black jeans and boots.  Her race's language was tattooed across her arms in dark blue swaths of color.  She opened the door for him and he placed Jon inside. 

It wasn't til he buckled the seatbelt that she spoke.  There were only a few reasons Sirens were ever silent and he knew it wouldn't be good but he listened, his focus on making sure Jon was secure.

"I've seen your future, the same as I saw it when your daddy broke your right arm.  The man I saw you kissing in your future, he's that man there. He is exactly as I described it to you 15 years ago. You came here the instant you heard it was him.  That means something Davey," Linds said and David whirled around to face her.  His brown eyes burning gold with the power of his wolf burning right beneath his skin.

"Jesus H. Christ Linds!!! I don't fucking need this shit. This man is the top suspect in a woman's disappearance. My wife is in a fucking padded cell. Everytime I see her she rips my throat out and I watch her eat it. And you're here reminding me that 15 years ago my dad took a hammer and shattered my elbow. Spit on me and called me a faggot, all for this sad sack of shit who was in your bar mooning over a made up teenage crush that I am jealous of." LInds eyebrows shot up the same as his as he realized what he said.  He couldn't take it back.  Linds watched the lean werewolf vibrate with shock and anger.  She knew she should be afraid but all she wanted to do was the same thing she had done when they had been teenagers. She reached out for him but he took a step back, not trusting the low growling wolf inside his soul. 

He had sat in that bar watching those tears and selfishly wished they had been for him, not some made up boy.  He felt immature and selfish and wanted to be alone but instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and stormed around to the driver's side of the truck and got in and without a word drove off as Linds watched him go. 

[fluxherbaria]

It's me! Quasi from Archive of our own. I believe I had tumblr at some point, but I was quite frankly not cool enough, and my whole page was pretty awful. That is why now I'm in your ask me anything box as an anonymous person. I think my brain didn't let me try to login to my account again because the cringe level would probably kill me. Anyway (sorry for always rambling) I would actually honored if you sent me a snippet of the next chapter. However, I completely understand if you can't. Thanks

hahahahaha I understand, I haven’t touched or edited mine for ages. Sure! I’d like to share some conversation snippets, ideas, because it’s not a coherent piece yet - but I’m sure you’d appreciate nonsense. (Seriously, good chance this will all confuse you). It’s been an odd month, and my mind is all over the place at the moment, so it’s not a problem of writing, more of knowing if something I’ve written feels ‘good’ or ‘not good enough’. If you have feedback, thoughts, that would be cool to hear. Would you like to be addressed with a particular name, or is Quasi all right?

Well, what do I have - fair warning, this is all subject to change and not final. I was thinking of calling it ‘Joue’ 

Hermioneserved something for dinner, and when she propped down four plates Draco staredat the table and his hands came down, slow, on the back of a chair. “What areyou doing here,” he said, airy and blank, “apart from trespassing.”

Hermionefrowned at him, sitting down, for a while. “It’s holidays.”

Harry andDraco exchanged a look.

“Of course,”Harry said.

He found hecouldn’t hold Ron or Hermione’s gaze while they ate, watching Draco’s wrists instead,pluck at food, childish, as if they would see something he didn’t want them to.It didn’t matter – they shifted closer and closer together in conversation,chairs angled. Harry got restless enough to need to stand, and walked andtalked wide berths around them.

Dracoreplaced his seat, at the head of the table and Harry plucked the cigarettefrom his hand.

“Harry’ssmoking,” Draco said to Hermione, “do you know what that means?”

“Cancer?” shesaid without looking up.

“Displacement,”Draco nodded scholarly. “He’s thinking, seriously. You’ve made himuncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to be. Who to be.”

“Draco,” saidHarry.

Hermioneseemed to hesitate, before levering her hands ceremoniously on the table edge,and angled towards Harry. He flicked ash off, the way Draco taught him. “Youknow your parents hated Sirius’ smoking.”

“No hedoesn’t,” Draco said. “He didn’t know his parents.”

“Draco.”

Hermione heldDraco’s gaze, her eyebrows slowly knitting together.

Ron sighed, “Whatdo you know, Malfoy,” he grumbled.Draco stared at him, wide and curious, utterly still, and his throat made acluck noise, audible – before he threw back his head and laughed like a fox.

Harry cameover and slid a hand down his arm, taking his hand, to pull him away and stopthe yipping. “Come on.”

Draco movedand smiled sloppily, getting up. “Excursion?”

“Sex,” Harrysaid, once out of earshot, “Just – something, we’ll get drunk. You come up withsomething –”

Draco consideredhim, eyes darting, and laughed, “What have I done.” He moved in front to lead.

“Hey – and this,” Harrystuck the cigarette back in Draco’s mouth, “I thought it meant that you’re thelover, and this is the bad habit.”

“No,” Draco laughedagain, “I’m the bad habit.”

Ron andHermione stayed overnight. Harry liked the low hum of voices, and what waited aroundcorners and down hallways. He suspected that Hermione did something magicalwith Lou, who she coddled like a baby, because he was happy to stay and nuzzlelegs, pawing through the mansion of trash. He unearthed a Weasley jumper in thetwin bedroom, and a large grey-streaked feather, surprised he hadn’t noticedthem before and wondered if all this time he had been following a roundaboutroute, some redouble back to his past.

In theirpresence, Draco didn’t seem to know how to be, so he just played.

He found aneasel, cracked down the middle and paint brushes as long as his arm, their hairtips hardened, in a “servant’s quarters” wherever that was and sat on Harry’sfeet, forcing him to lie flat on the drawing room floor.

“I wantsomeone to play with,” he announced. He chewed the ends to splinters, andsmiled like a joke.

So hepainted, over some long-deceased patrons on the wall, a nightmarish face withstriking green eyes, and used the charcoal from a chimney to scratch on mophair, and Harry watched, a patient subject, at the little creases in Draco’sface as he concentrated, at what thought they carved in his face.

Harry hadgrown accustom to walking around at night, when everything seemed asleep andeerier, gloomy portraits and shrunken heads watching. He got lost easily.

Harry raninto Hermione on the first landing, and in the stifling shadows she lookedsmaller. He copied her unconscious step into the darkness, against the wall, closeenough to taste her breath.

Her eyes werecat bright and brazen. “Hermione,” he said, in quiet anticipation.

“You’redropping out, aren’t you,” she said in a full, harsh whisper, that putsomething to words that Harry hadn’t yet.

“It’sdifferent,” he said, “Hogwarts.”

“Maybe it’syou.”

“How – thewhole thing is different,” he felt tired, bled out, all the sudden, “it’s likerehab, not home. I’m not –”

“No,”Hermione argued. “I mean, maybe it’s you. That expected it to be the same.”

She lookedtired and miscoloured somewhat, a little less, and Harry felt something rise inhim. He took hold of her small, determined fingers, “sleep in my room,” hewhispered. “I don’t know.”

Harry glancedbehind him at Sirius’ door, where he had been sleeping, and could hear Dracosmashing things in the attic sporadically. He pulled her into the room, “Ron’s–” she looked behind her, out of shadow and he closed the door behind him.

“Who cares,”Harry pulled her down to the bed, and could already feel the tug of young, heavysleep, from the crimson cover of the Gryffindor room and the lamp glow on herface, warming her gold. And from the slip of moth-ruined blankets that heburied them under, just like their tent canvas, that winter forever ago hespent with just her and a tent.

She blinkedneatly up at him, and he locked her arms under his, her elbow digging into hisside. Her familiar, warm motherly smell like library books and quilts. “I missyou,” he shifted, getting comfortable.

“You’redifferent,” she whispered into his jumper.

“Who cares,”he repeated, and closed his eyes. “Sleep.”

He woke up toher hair, a bush in his face as she had spun around in the night. He lay still,watching the rise and fall of her slow breathing, his wrist clamped in hergrip. He climbed out before light, even though he wanted to stay, and foundDraco in a frosty corner of an underground storage, playing the Artist againand carving icicles with a pick, the sound travelling.

He turned,wet hair clinging to his face. “Is that my insomniac?”

Harry led himout, to the first window he found. “I slept,” he propped Draco on the ledge,and climbed on him to watch the sun rise, “with Hermione.”

Draco lookedup at him, a flash of shock in his face, but said, “I knew it.”

Harry huffed,“Don’t be stupid.”

He looked atsilhouettes of buildings against a tan sky. Draco played with him too, so hejabbed Harry’s waist, “pet,” he said, his voice clear and creeping, “My pet.You’ll cook and clean for me, I’ll dress and booze you up and send you out toflirt with all the girls and all the boys,” Draco’s hands were wet on hischeeks. “You’ll report back and record your sexual escapades; we’ll recount andreplay it together –”

“I don’t wantthat,” Harry said, but he wasn’t really listening. He felt tired again, and heldDraco’s hands there.

“That’sright,” Draco coddled. “You don’t want to be anonymous.”

“You know me,”he mumbled, climbing in Draco’s neck to sleep; he smelled like lilac perfume,and said,

“I don’t knowanything anymore,” like a fact, well-worn, and Harry wondered when thatstarted.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and closed his eyes. “Youknow me,” he said again.

Draco movedaround, light and quick, like a startled mouse; Harry found he couldn’t sitdown for long.

He foundDraco again, hanging off a banister. He glanced at Harry with a wooden face, asif he expected him.

“You’re makingsure I don’t fly away again,” he said over the banister.

Harry grabbedhis outstretched wrist, in air. “You won’t.”

“You don’tknow that.”

Harry settlednext to him, and Draco slid out of grip, slipping to sit, fluid, on the carpet. I don’t. “I trust you.”

Draco smiled upat him. “Bastard.”

Harry bitback his grin, roughly, and could almost feel his hand squeezing through thecage of Draco’s ribs to take a bloody hold of his centre. “Tell me about yourparents,” he said, because then his hand would be locked onto Draco forever.

Draco’s lipsunstuck in a click.

“Please,”Harry said.

“I can’t.”

Harry camebehind Draco and slid his hands down his front, into the warmth of his pants.Draco’s head turned, slow. “Harry Potter,” he said.

“Are youhappy here?”

“Everything Iown is in here,” Draco’s hand came around, and slipped in Harry’s jean pocket. “Youfeed and bathe me – nourish me,provide,” his voice glided. “You’re the little house I can climb into.”

“And whatabout me – what do I get?”

Dracolaughed. “What do you get, yes,” he said, “that’s the question. The blindleading the blind.”

Me again, so it’s looking to be about three times the length of any other chapter. And these are all sketches, rather than scenes, for the most part.

[bestwishes86]

Open Container - A Wolf Creek Short Story

“I got a good feeling. It doesn’t happen. Very Often.” Phoebe Bridgers

When David got the call he was just sitting down in his living room with “Game of Thrones” on his 42 inch flat screen. The fresh bowl of Pop Secret and a Heineken sat on the polished coffee table. Hadley was at the Tailgating party for the Puritans and he was on call with the station. He had spent the morning cleaning the upscale brownstone once back from Seattle to clear his head. The drive with that gay asshole had fucked with him more than he wanted to think about. So he had busied himself, not thinking about him walking out of the missing woman’s shower naked. He could still see the words in other languages and black swirls running across that pale skin. As he had polished every surface he could still see the tattoos had covered even the plump flaccid cock between those thick legs.

His bookshelves were filled with paperback novels from the eighties and nineties and every Disney movie with the large white boxes and the faded art and a selection of dvds. The books and movies had belonged to his parents and he couldn’t bring himself to throw any of it away. His wife Penelo had done the decorating and so three oil paintings of landscapes in polished wood frames hung on the walls on either side of the flat screen.

David sat on the soft dark leather couch and was pulling his remote to him when his phone rang. Internally he thought about ignoring it incase it was another call about cow tipping or another horrible trip to Seattle to pick up another gay asshole who smelled like honeysuckle and blood. Seeing the name LInds on the caller id he grabbed it and swiped right to answer it.

“Deputy, do you know a Jon Redding?” the deep voice of the Siren by night hard as nails, raven haired woman asked.

“Yes...why?” David asked slowly, staring at the burning emblem of the show and the paused status bar at the bottom of the screen.

“You should probably cut him off, he’s down here talking about loving someone who didn’t exist and getting thrown into posters and that's not what the boring patrons want to hear, now is it?” Linds asked as she looked at the usually handsome bearded man who looked ready to pass out or throw up sitting alone at a table. The other customers were human ones and she had sung two of her magical songs to distract them from him. David felt a headache building behind his furrowed brows but he still rose from the couch and hung up the call and grabbed his keys.

Jon stared at his empty glass, his mind muddled by the many drinks that had come before as he thought about that alternate version of himself. While he was a short, muscular young man covered in witches spells. That dreamed up version was a chubby, pasty coward. He missed feeling that weak and vulnerable and the way Pete had looked at him. Jon shook his head at the memory of the tall, pale muscular teenager with those green eyes and that square jaw. But it was too late, he remembered the dream Pete had been in and been gutted in. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes

“It wasn’t real, none of it.” Jon shouted to himself and all the bar patrons glared at him as they had every outburst he had made in the last hour. He knew it was stupid, knew it was a waste of emotion but those feeiings he had felt in that mental prison had become a part of him. He had been quiet the entire drive back with that asshole homophobe because he was etching into his memory those three dreams because of Pete. The witch he had planned on eating had trapped him inside her mental prisons had made the imagined world so real he had created real feelings.

“This seat taken,” a gruff pissed off voice asked and Jon waved a hand in acceptance and grimaced at the loud scrapping of the wood against the concrete floor. David plopped down and held a hand up for the waitress. HIs brown eyes looking over Jon, the man had worn a dark blue sweater and jeans with loafers. David thought about his old Smashing Pumpkins t shirt and pajama bottoms and barefeet. He chuckled at this but when the red in the face spikey haired man looked at him, his smile fell away.

“You….” Jon said growling in distrust

“Hey man, Heard you were drinking here so I came by too,” David was cut off by Jon

“You came here dressed like that to drink with me, no offense but unless you’re going to knock me out and take me back to your house for a hard fucking, i’m gonna pass.” Jon said looking David up and down and reaching for his glass having forgotten it was empty. He grimaced at the mere hints of alcohol in it and waved for the waitress while David glared at him.

“Do you have to go straight to sex every time i meet you.” David said between gritted teeth.

“We’ve met twice. Second, what else am I good for? Never mind that last point. You don’t even know me is what I'm trying to say.” Jon slurred in a voice that was something between indignant and a purr. David rolled his eyes at him and Jon slumped back in his chair.

“Why would I want to? I’m just here to make sure you don’t talk about shit you promised you wouldn’t.” David paused as the waitress appeared he ordered two Rum Punches and a Budwiser.

“I didn’t say you could buy a drink for me,” Jon said as he closed his eyes

“I didn't, those are all for me.” David said as he glared at LInds who waved apologetically.

“Ok. Did the bartender alert you to me talking too much,” Jon asked and Davd nodded.

“I just...never mind it’s stupid once you’re drunk we can leave,” Jon said as the two red glasses and the bottle arrived.

“You want anything,” David asked, his expression softened as he smelled the sadness coming off Jon and heard the pain in his voice. Jon reached for one of the rum punches and David smacked his hand.

“Mine,” David said drawing the glass away from the drunkard, he continued, ”I meant something else. I got you for it, I already covered your bill,” David said and Jon thought about it for a moment and asked for a Bud Light. David raised an eyebrow but placed the order the two sat in heavy silence. David occasionally glanced at the drunk man stare at the table and the empty glass, it was clear his mind was somewhere else. David finished his first drink and curled his toes on the cold floor. Jon’s beer arrived and David watched Jon drink half of it one go. He watched the Adam’s apple bob with each swallow before he looked away.

“Have you ever missed someone you shouldn’t,” Jon asked and David sat up uncomfortable as he looked at Jon. The image of the beautifully deformed half woman half wolf chained to walls in an institution flashed in David’s mind.

“Yeah, hurts all the same.” David said solemnly thinking of his wife. His Alpha had told him to kill her, to end her suffering but he couldn’t. So he had driven her to that asylum and chained her up himself. Her human mind was gone, buried inside the feral wolf mind that ruled that malformation.

“It really really fucking does. In that place that woman held me, there was a boy my mind made up. He was...kind to me. The first person in my life to be kind to me ended up being my own imagination...how fucked is that.” Jon said and as he admitted it two large tears began their descent down his cheeks. They were soon chased by more and he quietly wept. He didn’t care if David said something else assholey to him. If the bar patrons kicked him out, none of it mattered as he watched the large stainless steel meat hook burst out of Pete’s broad chest. His mind had drifted back to that nightmarish prison he had been kept in. He and Pete had run from the blank faced woman up the stairs of his home to his bedroom and locked the door behind them. It had happened so suddenly as they had caught their breath. She had burst through the wood, her scream almost deafening as Pete had run at her with his chair as a weapon. She had smacked him away so effortlessly and then glowered at him.

Jon had stood there frozen in horror as the woman took slow strides toward him, she had reached into that dusty overcoat and pulled the metal hook from it and it caught the light of the room and glistened. He had wanted to brave, wanted to try something to save them but he had been so afraid. Pete had run in front of Jon to save him from it in that made up nightmare. Jon could feel the moment when life left Pete’s body. It was if something was pulled from his body, ripped away with that second in life. It didn’t matter if it was real or not, it had felt real to him.

Strong hands were on his shoulders, he felt his body rising up as he was swung up into someone’s arms but he didn’t care. He kept his eyes closed as he was carried out of the bar. The cool night air felt heavenly on his face. He buried his head against the hard flat chest he was pressed against. Jon focused on the heart beating strong beneath the shirt and skin and muscle there. It was real, in that drunken moment it was the only thing real to him.

David had felt his wolf howl in pain watching the quiet crying, he had tried to ignore it. But that open honest act of feeling had struck him in the gut. He had looked around and saw that the once loud raucous bar was silent as everyone watched Jon. That had been what caused him to rise from his seat and carry him out. Carrying the muscular man might have been hard for a normal man but for one with preternatural strength it was like carrying a newborn pup. He ignores the gravel that dug into the skin of his bare feet as he listens to the steady heart beat. Keeping Jon close to him kept his wolf from howling in mourning so he did. Linds was behind him a few steps, she silently watched him, he could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way through the packed parking lot to his truck. The tall, slender, dark haired woman wore a red velvet corset that pushed up her sizable chest and painted on black jeans and boots. Her race’s language was tattooed across her arms in dark blue swaths of color. She opened the door for him and he placed Jon inside.

It wasn’t til he buckled the seatbelt that she spoke. There were only a few reasons Sirens were ever silent and he knew it wouldn’t be good but he listened, his focus on making sure Jon was secure.

“I’ve seen your future, the same as I saw it when your daddy broke your right arm. The man I saw you kissing in your future, he’s that man there. He is exactly as I described it to you 15 years ago. You came here the instant you heard it was him. That means something Davey,” Linds said and David whirled around to face her. His brown eyes burning gold with the power of his wolf burning right beneath his skin.

“Jesus H. Christ Linds!!! I don’t fucking need this shit. This man is the top suspect in a woman’s disappearance. My wife is in a fucking padded cell. Everytime I see her she rips my throat out and I watch her eat it. And you’re here reminding me that 15 years ago my dad took a hammer and shattered my elbow. Spit on me and called me a faggot, all for this sad sack of shit who was in your bar mooning over a made up teenage crush that I am jealous of.” LInds eyebrows shot up the same as his as he realized what he said. He couldn’t take it back. Linds watched the lean werewolf vibrate with shock and anger. She knew she should be afraid but all she wanted to do was the same thing she had done when they had been teenagers. She reached out for him but he took a step back, not trusting the low growling wolf inside his soul.

He had sat in that bar watching those tears and selfishly wished they had been for him, not some made up boy. He felt immature and selfish and wanted to be alone but instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and stormed around to the driver’s side of the truck and got in and without a word drove off as Linds watched him go.