#I have a hard time drawing- unless I know what I draw... And that became kinda rare smh

[clownsterzz]

Hello @thelone-copper 🧍‍♂️ Colt nr 1 fan here smhhh- he's so cool bro 😔💅 I remember reading that he could lift cows 'n all (which was prolly a joke but the thought is so funny smh). Also, first time drawing a cow AKSJFJWK AND ITS NOT EVEN MUPPET VERSION- FORGIVE ME - OMG I SHOULD'VE DRAWN BUTTERS INSTEAD NGHRR

Man's is so gorgeous 'n cool 😭 These are some old sketches' cuz I have a hard time figuring out what to draw- my brain smoothin' real hard- ALSO HOW TALL IS THIS GUY 🤨 5FT LIKE ME? (1,53 Meters) OR HAVE I MISSED SUMN?

BESIDES THAT UH- I ALSO HAVE MY OWN OC NAMED T AND I MADE A REALIZATION THAT I CAN MAKE A WH (WELCOME HOME) VERSION OF T SMHH- THAT'S THEM-

AND HERE IS THE WH VERSION- SUNFLOWER SUPREMACY Y'ALL 😊❤️ THEY ARE OBVIOUSLY BASED OF A SUNFLOWER-

I'm so scared sharing this hasbsjiwijji

[clonecaptains]

On Tap

a jake 'hangman' seresin x shy!reader fic

warnings: none! unless you count jake being shirtless as one; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 1.7k

summary: you work for your family friend penny at the hard deck one summer and meet this handsome pilot....

a/n: i haven't written ?? something in over a year so thanks to glen powell for this i guess? and for yall encouraging me to write!! thank you for reading!

You don’t even remember how it started. And looking back you think maybe divine intervention must have led you here.

Your Aunt Penny – who isn’t even really your aunt, it’s what you’ve called her your whole life – invites you to work with her for the summer at the bar she owns. The Hard Deck.

Divine intervention or just your aunt thinking about you for a summer job has you quick to say yes. That’s how you find yourself working in a busy bar full of handsome men in uniform.

Penny, has you working odd jobs, filling in wherever you’re needed. Even if you never expected yourself to take a job like this – it was the freedom you wanted. To be somewhere else. Away from home.

What you didn’t know was that you’d find your new home here. And it wasn’t at Penny’s – you did live with her for a good while. But no, your new home would be a person. A tall dirty blond pilot with a flashy grin and strong arms that squeezed you tight.

You’d seen him around at the bar of course. He was hard to miss. There was something about him though that caught your eye more than any of the other pilots who frequented the joint.

Hangman they called him.

You asked Penny once what his real name was after he’d asked her for a couple beers. You tried to ask as casually as you could and if she suspected your crush on him, she didn’t say anything to tease. She did, however, tell you his name.

Jake Seresin.

You smiled a soft smile to yourself watching him take the beers back to his buddy. You liked the name. You liked him. You hadn’t spoken two words to him, but you had a crush.

Working with your aunt was already a fun kind of chaos, but you became downright eager to get to work for the chance you might see him.

When he was there? Your heart was in your throat as soon as he walked in. He’d take his sunglasses off and neatly hook them in the v of his shirt. The charisma that oozed from him sent electricity into your heart. The highest peak of a thrill was when he got close to the bar to make his order. You could hear his voice and you tried to be casual while he waited for Penny to hand him his drink.

It wasn’t long before Penny caught on. You were bummed on the nights he didn’t come in. And she saw how you lit up when he walked through the door no matter how much you tried to hide it.

That’s when she began to meddle. Only a little of course. But she saw something that you hadn’t. She’d seen Jake’s quick glances in your direction. She was surprised he didn’t say anything at first. He was usually quick on the draw to talk to a cutie.

She’d get to the bottom of it.

The first chance arose when he came in one night. You couldn’t help but smile a little when he came in. He was alone tonight but he didn’t seem to mind. He liked the atmosphere. The bar would be full of pilots soon and locals, and that energy was something he loved.

He headed straight for the bar, and you could feel your heart pounding harder and harder with each step he made. Suddenly the glass in your hand really, really needed to be dried off. You saw him quickly put his sunglasses on his shirt, and you made eye contact with him right has he did his little toothpick trick in his mouth. You know your eyes must have widened when his smile did.

Yeah, this glass really needs to be dry. This one in particular.

His Texas accent came out heavy when he asked Penny for a drink. She poured it but then handed it to you.

“Give this to Jake, will you? I gotta get this.” And before you could blink, his drink was thrust in your hand, and she was answering her phone. You didn’t have time to think that this was an obvious set up because the panic had set in that you had to hand this to him.

Jake was standing on the other side of the bar, waiting. His smile was growing. If you didn’t know any better, he was enjoying the flustered look on your face.

“Hi,” he said stretching out his hand to reach for his drink.

“Hi,” you answered back, breaking into a shy smile. You met him halfway to put the drink in his hand. His fingers touched yours in the exchange and you felt warmth grow on your skin.

“Jake,” he said as he grabbed the glass in his other hand and reached for you with his right.

You gave your name and took his hand. When your palms clasped, he squeezed and gave you a little wink.

“I’ve seen you in here lately,” he continued, “nice to meet you.” Another wink.

You meekly pulled your hand from his, and he took his first sip of beer. His eyes on you the whole time. You think all the moisture in your mouth must have evaporated from the heat of his gaze.

He wandered over to the dartboard and started to play. You stood frozen where you stood, and a little nudge from Penny broke you out of your stupor.

“Everything ok?” You asked and started to dry a different glass this time, one that actually needed it.

She nodded with a slight knowing smile. She could see the look on your face. You knew she could, but you tried to hide it.

She actually did get a phone call. Normally she wouldn’t answer while working, but it gave her the perfect opportunity to nudge you towards that handsome pilot.

She’d get another chance to nudge that next afternoon.

The two of you were in the bar when she grabbed a notebook of things she was working on. You were wiping down a table, and she called your name.

“Let’s go outside for a bit,” she motioned out back. You shrugged and followed her outside.

The sky was golden. And you squinted a little as your eyes adjusted. Penny sat down, notebook in hand and began to write. Write what you didn’t know or care. Because when you saw the crowd of pilots on the beach your attention was drawn there.

You spotted Jake immediately. Most of the pilots had taken their shirts off, and you managed to catch him as he was pulling off his black tee. You panicked when his glance turned your way. The sunglasses on his face didn’t hide where he looked – at you.

You felt a bolt of lightning, and you almost dropped the drink you had in hand.

“Sit,” Penny smiled and gave you a knowing pat on the back.

You did sit, and you watched them play football on the beach. Your eyes trained on Jake. It gave you a thrill knowing that he knew you were watching. You knew he was a showoff, but you liked to think he did really want you out there.

They weren’t close enough for you to tell exactly what was going on, and you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You could hear the occasional tweet from the whistle and the general chaos of yelling when someone scored.

At one point, you saw Maverick wave at Penny, and you smiled. You loved seeing their little interactions.

When the sun started to set, the game was coming to an end. The pilots dispersed; laughter rang out as the pockets of them split. But not Jake. He was headed right for the bar. His tee shirt in his hand, and you could see the sheen of sweat on his skin from where you sat. He got closer and you felt panic again.

You made up some excuse to go inside to Penny. And for the life of you – you don’t know why you did.

Not straying too far inside, you lingered by the door. You heard Jake walk up the steps and greet Penny.

“Where’d she go?” His voice muffled but you could still hear.

“Inside,” Penny nodded in the direction of the bar. “You better go in there and ask her out. Or I’ll set you up on a date with her myself.” Your heart jumped. There was a lump in your throat you couldn't swallow.

“But put your shirt on Jake, you’ll scare the girl to death.” You could hear the smile in her voice, and you didn’t stick by the door to hear what he said in return.

You headed for the bar, something safe to hide behind. Even though you wanted him to ask you out, it scared you to death. He made your knees weak, despite the thrill he gave you every time you saw him.

The back door creaked, and you felt sick and excited all at once. You glanced in that direction in time to see him pull his shirt on. It stuck to him, and he pinched some of the fabric in his fingers to pull it off his skin.

The blood pounding in your ears was loud, and it only grew as he got closer.

You were the only two people in the bar. You knew of course by now he was in there for you, and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind now.

“Hi,” he said with the biggest grin you’d seen on him yet. He tacked on your name after his greeting, and you could’ve sworn that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“Hi Jake,” you replied back, testing out his name on your lips. “Can I get you something?” You asked him with a smile, you wanted to see what he’d say back.

He leaned on the counter. He was close. You could smell the saltwater and sand on him.

“I don’t think it’s on tap,” he clicked his tongue.

“Oh?” you laughed softly, you know what he’s getting at. But you don’t dare stop him. You’ve been dying for him to flirt with you more, even if you weren’t sure what to do with his attention. “Try me?”

“Don’t suppose I could order a date with you? To go?”

“As luck would have it,” your face is warm, and you are beyond flustered but you find your words somehow. “We do have that, but only for you.”

“Is it available tonight?"

The smile on your face hurt your cheeks, and it matched his grin. Like before, he reached for you. Only this time you didn’t let go.

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A long weekend with your parents is exactly what you needed. But when they keep asking what happened to your car and inadvertently force you to tone things down in the bedroom, you and Bradley realize you have more to discuss than just a replacement for your totaled pride and joy.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, fluff, smut, loud sex in public, spanking

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

As soon as you and Bradley unloaded the Bronco and had your parents settled inside the Craftsman, you had the uncontrollable urge to fuck your husband. You were trying your best to listen to your mom as she opened up a bottle of wine from your refrigerator, but Bradley was standing on the other side of the island, nodding as he answered one of your dad's questions. Your husband looked hot, and it was then that you realized you hadn't had sex with him since Sunday night. Since before you found out your car was totaled. And something about the impromptu funeral he just threw for your car was making you needy.

Well. You fucked up.

"Bradley didn't have any more hotel points?" your mom asked, finally drawing your attention her way. It was almost laughable now. Bradley had made up the entire thing about the points that were about to expire last year. It was all a ploy to get them to stay at a hotel so you and he could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted to do it, in your own home. You nearly moaned just thinking about it. 

"Nope," you replied softly, reaching down some wine glasses. "No more hotel points, sorry."

"Nonsense," your mom said, waving you off. "Your house is beautiful, but you're still newlyweds. We get it."

You snorted as you sipped your wine. "Mom, it's July. We got married in November. I don't think we're considered newlyweds any longer."

"Hmm," she hummed as she drank from her glass. "Don't tell Bradley that."

When you glanced over at him, he was already looking at you, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. He looked so damn good, shaking his head slightly like he was annoyed you weren't alone, but still smiling like he couldn't believe you were his. 

"That man adores you," your mom added, inspecting the label on the bottle of wine. "Make sure you let him know you adore him, too."

An hour later, after your parents had retired to the spare bedroom, you had Bradley's cock buried deep inside you with his hand covering your mouth and his voice in your ear. "Do you regret it yet?" came his harsh whisper.

Your legs were already shaking as he fucked you from behind, standing up just inside your bedroom with the door closed. You tried to nod as you grasped the dresser and the wall for support. Neither of you had even been able to take the time to get undressed; you just needed it that badly. 

"Yeah, well you should, Baby Girl. Oughta be filled with nothing but regret and my cum."

You tried to moan his name against his hand, but it came out soft and muffled just like he intended as he slammed into you. He knew better than to trust you if he removed his hand, so he kept it right there, pressed tight to your mouth to the point it was almost painful. 

"Next time they visit, they stay at a hotel unless we finish the attic," he grunted as his free hand found your clit. "You look fucking perfect in this little dress, and I'd have had you in the kitchen if they weren't here."

Then his lips found your neck, sucking hard as he fucked you until his thrusts became even more demanding. Your fingers quivered as you held onto the dresser for dear life as he managed to hit just the right spot inside at the same time his rough fingers pinched your clit.

Your orgasm left you shaking as you bit Bradley's palm so hard, he shoved two fingers in your mouth instead. "Fuck," he growled quietly. "Oh, fuck." Then his steady tempo gave way to short strokes and his lips came softly to your ear. "I love you."

He filled you up so well, your dress and thighs were a mess afterwards, and you had to waddle into the bathroom so you didn't drip onto the floor. "Oh my god, Roo," you gasped as you finally took the time to pull your dress off to get yourself cleaned up. He walked in to turn the shower on with his shirt balled up in one hand, and then he smirked as his cum dripped down your legs. 

"Just to be clear, I love your parents. I love when we get to visit with them. I love having them here. But I also love fucking you, and you and I both know you can't keep quiet."

You slipped past him and into the shower. "I know what you want me to say."

"Then just say it, Sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes. "You were right about the hotel. But I was trying to save money for the car."

He wrenched his jeans and underwear off as he joined you in the shower immediately backing you up against the tile wall making you thrum with need all over again. With his left forearm leaning against the wall, he tipped your chin up with his right hand and pressed his body against yours. He could have been intimidating if you weren't so in love with him and also outrageously turned on. 

"Money is not an issue, okay?" he asked, his voice nothing but a deep rumble. "It's never going to be an issue. Pick out the car of your dreams, and it's yours. We will figure out the rest as we go."

You whimpered, "Okay, Daddy." Then you were moaning into his mouth.

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

The next morning, Bradley felt a little bad about leaving you without a car, but Nat offered to stop by and pick you and your mom up for brunch. He also felt a little bad about how Bob got booted out of the golf foursome so your dad could join in.

Your dad was sipping a travel mug of coffee on the way to the golf course when he suddenly asked, "How did her car get totaled anyway?"

Bradley almost swerved off the road as he scrambled to point out the window at essentially nothing special as he said, "Did you see that?!"

"What?!" he asked in response, turning to look back.

Bradley swallowed hard and said, "Oh, nevermind. So, uh, how often have you been golfing this summer? Because I'm anticipating being pretty terrible myself. I haven't been out in months."

"Oh, well I told you about Jerry, right?" he asked in response, and Bradley knew he had your father safely distracted as he talked about his golf buddy that he'd known since college for the rest of the drive.

But the next issue arose when they actually made it to the golf cart and Jake started liberally handing out hard seltzers. "Oh, I've never had one of these," your dad told him. 

"They're great," Javy promised, patting him on the back with a grin. 

Bradley already had to share his clubs with your dad, but when he was tipsy by the ninth hole, Bradley had become his glorified caddy. When he looked at one of the cans, he realized why the three of them were laughing so much. These things had 12% alcohol by volume. 

"Jesus Christ," Bradley muttered, considering texting you for help, but you were probably out with your mom and Nat right now. And he was supposed to have your dad home by four for a beach cookout and fourth of July fireworks. 

"So why don't you tell us what you really think of your son-in-law, sir?" Jake drawled obnoxiously as he grinned back at Bradley. It was a shame Bob got the boot instead of Jake or Javy who currently couldn't find his golf ball even though it was on the green right in front of him. 

"Bradley?" your dad asked as if Bradley wasn't standing ten feet behind him. "He's great! Love the guy! Although I have the sneaking suspicion that he was the one who totaled my little girl's car. She just loved that ugly thing, you know?"

"Oh yes, sir," Jake replied. "I've seen that car many times, and it truly was nothing to look at. But what would you say if I told you I know exactly what happened to it?"

"Hangman," Bradley barked. "Tee off. Let's get a move on."

You dad didn't even seem to notice anything was off as he cracked open another seltzer and said, "Oh, there you are, Bradley. Have you tried one of these drinks? They are absolutely delicious."

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

You and your mom stood side by side on the front porch after lunch when Bradley got back home with your dad. He'd texted you to give you a heads up about the hard seltzers, but you were still surprised when he had to help your father out of the Bronco. He was completely drunk and wearing Javy's New Orleans Saints hat while he laughed hysterically. 

"Oh... shit," your mom said, and she started laughing, too. "Bradley must have had a fun time today."

You had to hold your own giggles at bay as you watched your husband try to wrangle your dad who was now walking to check if there was anything in your mailbox. 

"Mom, he's a mess!"

"Just think, if we move to San Diego, your dad can ruin Bradley's golf outings all the time."

You snorted. There had been some discussion earlier about your parents potentially selling the house in Maryland and making the move to be closer to you. It was all still hypothetical, but you loved the idea of having them nearby. However now you weren't so sure Bradley would share your sentiment. 

"No, no, this way, Dad," he was saying, trying to coax your father up to the porch. 

"How many did he drink?" you asked as your dad awkwardly patted your mom on the head before walking inside and collapsing onto the couch with Tramp licking his face. 

"Not that many?" Bradley replied, running his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, but Jake and Javy were a nightmare, too. I had to drop them both off, because there was no way they could drive. And now we'll be late for this neighborhood beach cookout."

"It's okay," you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist while your mom went to get your dad some water. "You got everyone home safely. It's so fucking hot when you're responsible." You kissed the scars on his neck and added, "We could always just make dinner here and watch the fireworks from the back patio?"

The way he sighed in relief let you know that he thought that sounded like a better idea. "Only if that's what you want to do."

"That's exactly what I want to do," you promised him. 

When you turned to walk away, he caught your hand and asked, "Did you give any more thought to what kind of car you want? I didn't like leaving you without one today."

You just shrugged; it still made you completely and utterly sad inside to think about it. You couldn't even imagine anything else parked in the driveway next to the Bronco. "No," you whispered. "Let's talk about it more next week? After they go back to Maryland?"

He nodded. "Serious conversations will include your car and some home renovations."

You looked from him to the couch where your dad was currently snoring and then back to him again. There was no escaping your parents at the moment. "Add San Diego real estate to the list, Roo," you told him with a peck on his cheek as you went in search of what you could make for dinner. 

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

Sunday afternoon was bright and gorgeously sunny. It was the perfect day for a baseball game. Bradley was nursing a beer at Petco Park while he held your hand, occasionally leaning closer to you so he could converse with your parents who were sitting on your other side. But every time he did so, it got a little harder for him to sit there and behave; you smelled so sweet, and you looked sinful in that shirt. Bradley could only think about the second date he took you on where you and he ended up on the Kiss Cam.

"I was wondering," your mom mused between innings, "how the car got totaled. Who was driving it?"

Bradley shook his mostly empty beer can and jumped to his feet, absolutely unwilling yet again to discuss the truth with your parents. "I am so thirsty," he announced, pretending he hadn't even heard her as you looked up at him with panic in your eyes. "Anyone else need a drink?" 

"I'll take a beer," your dad said, eyes glued to the game as the bottom of the inning started. 

"Absolutely," Bradley replied, silently shocked the man was still drinking today after his hard seltzer incident the day before. There was a beer vendor down at the bottom of the stairs, and Bradley hightailed it in his direction. 

He bought two and turned to look back at you. Christ almighty, he was so fucking horny right now. He'd been in the mood for bed rattling sex, the kind where your voice was hoarse from screaming his name. Last night you fell asleep before he even finished cleaning the kitchen and joined you in bed, and he didn't want to wake you just to clamp his hand over your mouth again. 

"Sir?" the beer vendor asked, trying to hand him the cans. 

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, taking two steps at a time to get back to his seat. He could wait for the loud stuff since your parents would only be here for a little while longer. As he settled in next to you, he passed one beer to your dad and pecked you on the cheek. "Dad, you're supposed to be on a diet," you reminded your father while he ordered two more hot dogs from a different vendor.

"Aww, let him have some fun," Bradley said. "He's on vacation."

You rolled your eyes at him, probably annoyed that he ditched you to answer your parents' never ending attempts at learning exactly what became of your little shit mobile. "You're not helping, Roo."

Your mom just shook her head. "Your father has no self discipline. I'm referring to the junk food as well as yesterday's seltzers."

Bradley leaned in close to your ear and kissed you before whispering. "Is that where you get it from, Baby Girl?"

You quickly turned toward his smirking face. "I have plenty of self discipline," you told him defiantly. "Except when it comes to one thing." You let your hand drift up his thigh slowly as you turned toward the baseball game, feigning interest in the player up to bat. And then you gently palmed Bradley's cock through his jeans and squeezed.

He grunted, but he didn't move your hand away. Rather, he said probably loud enough for your parents to hear, "Do I need to discipline you right now?" It was honestly a wonder they hadn't pieced together what really happened to your car.

Bradley bit back a moan as your lips connected with his earlobe, and you whispered, "I need it." That's exactly how the two of you ended up in the family bathroom, with your jeans and panties pushed down around your thighs and your hands planted on your knees.

"You can't keep your hands to yourself in public, can you?" Bradley asked, rubbing his large palm along your ass and down to tease your pussy with his fingers before spanking you hard.

"No, Daddy," you whined, wiggling your butt back toward him for some more.

He spanked you again. "What's your punishment for grabbing my cock in front of your parents?"

You moaned so loudly, the sound echoed off the tiled walls. "Spanking," you answered, but it really wasn't a punishment at all. He knew it. You knew it, too.

As his palm connected with your gorgeous ass over and over, you didn't even try to keep quiet. Bradley let you be as loud as you wanted here since you couldn't scream his name at the house with your parents there.

"You are doing so well, Baby Girl. You ready for me to fuck you now?"

"Pease, Daddy!" you nearly shouted, and then he was inside you.

He wasn't going slow or trying to make you feel good, he was just fucking you hard and fast. Which was definitely working for you, based on the sounds you were making.

"You're always so fucking wet for me," he growled, hands wrapped tight around your hips. The slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the small space, along with his panting and your whimpers.

"I need it, Daddy," you gasped, voice getting higher as he felt the first squeeze of your pussy around his cock.

He grabbed your waist tighter to keep you steady as he said, "I'm going to fill you up. Fuck you full of my cum. And you'll keep it inside you for the rest of the day." His palm landed on your ass one more time, and then you were spiraling into your own orgasm as he came in your pussy.

A moment later, he watched his semen soak through your lace panties and drip down to the inside of your jeans as you pulled them up. "Oh my god, I love you," Bradley groaned as you opened the door. The line of unamused people waiting for the restroom had you and Bradley laughing as he wrapped his arm around you.

"That was fun, Roo," you said with a grin, placing a kiss on his neck. "I really learned my lesson, too."

"No, you didn't," he whispered, squeezing your waist and making you giggle as he led you back to the seats. "You're a brat, Sweetheart." 

But now he was thinking about how badly he wanted this to be the one that took. He'd spend the rest of his life talking about how he knocked up his wife at a Padres game, but he knew it probably wasn't possible. While he tried his best not to think about it too much, he knew vaguely when your cycle would be starting. 

He pulled you a little closer to his side and kissed your forehead. It didn't matter though. He wouldn't trade this feeling or his smiling wife for anything else in the world. 

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

You were always in tears when it was time to say goodbye to your parents. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted them to sell your childhood home and move to California, but you thought you'd better wait a few days before really discussing it more with Bradley. 

Before you met him, he'd been on his own for so long, you were beginning to think he struggled a bit with sharing his space, which was kind of a revelation since he had never been that way with you. He had welcomed you to move into his home with him almost as soon as he purchased it, and you only saw a few glimpses of frustration from him in those early days. Bradley had an ease about him that made you feel comfortable, but you still knew he'd never truly opened himself up to a woman before you, and that included his living space. The fact that he loved and accomodated your parents as much as they did for him was important to you.

He unloaded the luggage from the back of the Bronco while you hugged your dad and then your mom on the sidewalk outside of the departures door for the airline. "I'll let you know if I'm coming to Annapolis for work in a few weeks," you whispered as your mom kissed your cheek.

"We can try to have dinner together one night," she replied. You watched your dad shaking hands with your husband before he pulled your dad in for a hug. 

"That sounds nice," you told her as tears blurred your vision. You'd been crying so much recently, feeling overly emotional about your car and spending a ton of money on something that you didn't deem necessary. But these tears were the welcome kind. Your heart felt full of love instead of disappointment. 

As your parents disappeared through the sliding doors, Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. "It's kind of late, but when we get back to our quiet house, we should talk about a new car, renovations to our house, and the San Diego real estate market. Me and you and a bottle of wine." Your eyes fluttered closed as one big hand slid down over your belly before settling on your jeans zipper while he kissed your neck. "Just as soon as I fuck you so hard in our bed that you're screaming my name with tears in your eyes."

You moaned as your parents waved through the window, and you and Bradley waved back before you spun in his arms and looked up at his warm eyes. "Take me home right now."

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

Bradley was a sweaty mess underneath you as your head came to rest on his shoulder. His heart was still pounding, and his cum was slick and sticky between your pussy and his abs. The sound of your voice, soft and hoarse in his ear, gave him goosebumps as your fingers ran up and down his bicep, slowly tracing his tattoo. 

"I love you."

He turned his head to kiss your cheek and rub his mustache along your ear until you laughed. 

"You were loud as hell, Baby Girl," he rasped, knowing full well that he'd been vocal, too. 

"Yeah, well, it's nice to have the house to ourselves again," you responded as you yawned.

"I knew you'd see things my way." Very gently, Bradley asked, "Do you want to talk about new cars?"

Another drawn out yawn escaped you as you rolled off of him. "No, I'm too tired, and I don't really feel like it."

Bradley kissed your shoulder as you burrowed under the blankets. Getting you to focus on this task was clearly going to take as much stamina as he'd just given you in bed. "Fine. We'll do it later."

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I love you."

"I love you, too." 

But Bradley wasn't ready for bed yet, and he knew that the next time your mom and dad were here, he'd need the physical separation. After he got himself cleaned up in the bathroom, he pulled on his boxer briefs, and Tramp followed him upstairs to the huge open space that the two of you only used for storage. It would be a project, but it would be worth it.

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

If any of this sounded familiar, it's because we have reached this exciting point in the story of Roo and BG. Thank you for being here! Thanks for reading and reblogging and putting a smile on my face. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 26

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[dreamlandreader]

Hounds of Love

Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.

Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).

A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨

Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖

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The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me … 

In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees. 

The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes. 

Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled. 

It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground. 

As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.

Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them. 

Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her. 

“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.  

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,” 

“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir. 

“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them. 

“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”

“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background. 

“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely. 

“What may I call you then?”

“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it. 

“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?” 

“I’m here to see the High Lord,” 

Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father? 

“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.

“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,” 

Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.  

“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”  

You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death. 

Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening, 

“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.

The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing. 

Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.

“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”. 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none. 

 “Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you. 

Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.

“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.

“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”

“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.

“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.

“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”

 “He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”

“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.

“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”

Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.

“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.

“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”

“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”

You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.

Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.

Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.

“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.

“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.

“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”

“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.

“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.

The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.

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Hope you enjoyed reading!

✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨

[kyri45]

Hoi there!

You are so talented and creative. I love your art so much, the style is adorable ^^

I do have a few questions, as one creator to another. I don't post at the moment, but I do love making art, especially for my fanfic/original projects.

Can you tell me how you do it? Like how can you stay motivated and be able to post almost every day?

Any tips maybe on how to deal with artblocks and burnouts?

How do you pratice certain art styles and be able to do them accurately?

1. It’s because I really really REALLY like what I’m drawing right now. (gay monkies). Plus I have- an endgame lets say. I have a clear ending for my comics and reaching that point is what keeps me going, but I also ONLY draw what I want to draw, not EVERYTHING that needs to be shown for the endgame. This actually helped me go throught my ISAT AU comic.

It’s like- narrating a roadtrip. The ending is your destination, you can’t wait to arrive there, but first you know there’s a long road ahead. But you don’t actually need to describe/draw every single town / city / landscape to go there. Not every single kilometer of a roadtrip is a mouth-dropping view.

That’s why you can just-skip it. Stay 4 chapter at one diner if you like the set, focus a chapter on the protagonists looking at the stars, start a scene somewhere completely different, completely skip 30% of the road. As long as you can imply with details what was in between, you don’t need to show/write it in details if you feel it would be hard to make interesting, or just not your thing.

Also if you start to grow an audience and people ask you to draw/write certain things that you don’t feel like to, or just feel like they are extras, don’t do it.

Not because you can’t, but the MOMENT something that you create starts to feel like you are doing it for the audience, then you are not actually doing something yours, and from then on it’s gonna be harder and harder to do things. Like, I have hundreds of fanarts that I did on my IG that were mostly directed to my audience, and not something that I just did because of fun.

All of this is also- answering to your second question - for not burning out. All of this is for keeping your passion up. I’m not talking about mental or physical energy. You could be dead tired (like I am many times) but still be fueled do draw for hours. Because you’re drawing only exactly what you want.

It took me 4 years to understand. I used to do this in high school. Draw something just for the hell of it. It was harder back then, because drawing was hard. I arrived to a point where drawing is much easier (also cause I draw almost everyday for 6/8 hours.) and after I was healed from my broken arm this july, it became my drug. I understood I can’t live without drawing what’s in my head, and that (unless it’s specifically for work) I don’t wanna draw something that’s not only what I want.

I want you to arrive to the point that your drawings / fanfictions are so much exactly what you envisioned /wanted that you fangirl about them. That you read/watch them and squeak in delight. Because even if no one likes them, you must be crazy about them.

(I’ll make a post about this in the future, because it literally changed how I draw after years and it brought back my passion for art after 10 years, but rn it’s a little late and I wanna draw my LMK au so I’ll stop now)

3. I keep some reference to look at every now and then. I also draw a L O T. ( a ton shit of things that I draw are not posted anywhere bc of work)

[2frosty4you]

Hiii! If reqs are open, can I request for all the mercs finding out teen merc reader grew up with very neglectful parents, and is basically a mother to her younger siblings? The only reason she even took up a job as a mercenary is so she can pay the bills for her little brothers and sisters, since her parents are too busy using their money on drugs:/

Mercs find out teen!reader takes sole care of her siblings [Platonic

| All mercs & GN!Reader Platonic | 826 words | Masterlist | Ask/Request |

Hardest thing about this was actually getting a name for it :cry:

╔═════════════════╗

Scout

✧ He says he relates, but in reality he doesn't. His family was filled with successful boys (fatherless) and his mother who they all loved. He sent his paychecks to her every time.

✧ When you explained that you had to take care of your siblings from a younger age over the campfire he became quiet.

✧ Doesn't make a joke, but the awkward air was getting to him.

"so.. how many siblings ya got?"

✧ He only says this to break the ice

✧ After a while he understands why you're always on calls with people, always away on ceasefire and always take any off days you can get (hardly any)

Soldier

"AN AMERICAN CARETAKER SHOULD NOT INTAKE DRUGS FROM THE FRENCH!!"

✧ He's trying, but not hard enough

✧ He offers you one of his extra helmets and his raccoons. He cares for you like a strange rabid dog you found on the street.

✧ Shares his food with you, gives his loyalty to your brothers and sisters with a goofy salute.

✧ Don’t let him meet your siblings unless you want him to get them to dig a trench around your house

Pyro

".. mph?"

✧ They don't understand why your parents aren't using their own money.

✧ They don't understand a lot of what you explained

✧ They'll begin to offer any candies they have to you, not like they weren't already. Protects you a lot on the battlefield and draws pictures for you and your siblings (mostly balloonicorn) 

✧ Would like to meet your siblings though, they've got plushies to share 100%

Heavy

✧ He pats you on the back and nods, he didn't need to mother/father a group of kids but having no father made his family's life harder.

✧ Teaches you some night hearty meals that could feed a battalion

✧ Also teaches you self defense, even if you know it already it's never enough (heavy tells you that like :nerd: )

✧ Also makes you sit and have some time to yourself, he's your 'father' now. No ifs, buts or whys

Engineer

"pardon."

✧ He says, frying pan in hand as he was cooking breakfast. Staring at you like he was going to kill a set of parents.

✧ Tries to keep you safer on the battlefield, not wanting you to suffer more than your family has done to you.

✧ Teaches you to cook, like heavy 

✧ Cooks breakfast for you first, and when you have a rough time its 100% only you getting proper meal.

✧ Will drive you to your family's house, and stand there like a guard as you let him meet your brothers.

✧ Probably would build little contraptions for them and help tutor them.

✧ Loves you like family, including your siblings (not your parents, not at all)

Demoman

✧ He's drunk when you tell him this, he raises his bottle and spits out

"aye, fuck ya parents"

✧ He passes out immediately

✧ If he's sober when you mention it again he's going to be more caring(slightly) and since hes always at least tipsy he'll offer you his bombs like a drug dealer.

✧ If you say yes he'll blow up them and their crackhouse.

✧ Is on the fence about meeting your siblings, he doesn't really want your brothers seeing a drunk, half-blind Scot stumbling around.

Medic

✧ His eye twitches, a large insane smile on his face as he turns to you while having his elbows deep in the corpse of the enemy heavy.

"Did I mishear you?"

✧ He removes his hands from the corpse and comes over to you shaking you like crazy. Ranting about how a teenager shouldn't be caring for small children and asking if you had symptoms for any mental issues.

✧ He's insane, I'm not gonna sugar coat it.

✧ But he is smart and teaches you how to do some basic first aid

'no medic I'm not going to remove any appendices please stop cutting into scout'

✧ Wants to meet your sisters, offers them to play with his birds and offers up some plushies

'MEDIC DON'T GIVE THEM SYRINGES' 'and PLEASE put away the baboon heart'

Sniper

✧ Asks for you to repeat what you muttered and then offers to 'get rid' of your parents (sniper put down the rifle.. and the jarate)

✧ Drives you back and to your family home, is uncomfortable around small children so he's going to 100% either stay in his truck or be leaning against it the whole time.

✧ Don't worry he didn't bring any jarate with him.. Just don't check the truck (please) 

✧ But if he mentions taking care of birds your siblings demand to see them, so they get along well

Spy

✧ He will assassinate them, won't tell you, but it'll be suspicious when your mother dies from an overdoses while having and obvious bullet hole through her chest

✧ Look, he wasn't a father to scout but he'll be a father for you. Better than your last father at least, and a little better than he was to scout.

✧ Teach your siblings french 100%, you won't know until they start speaking it and you're left dumbfounded.

╚═════════════════╝

Posted 1.03.2024 if you see any typos or anything pls tell me!!

[impactedfates]

hola mijo 💓puedes hacer the tall males as dads? like for example welt, blade, jing yuan, luocha, dan heng i wish i could argenti to this list 🥰 but he not out yet so hottie okay gracias 🐾☝

★ A/N: Hola!! Yes I can :)) We all love a father figure right?

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Separate)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Just HCs of the HSR men as dads, you can view yourself as their child or as their lover // I only did the characters that you've stated in the request excluding Argenti // Not proofread

Welt as a dad is a 10/10. He would be so supportive no matter what you'd want to be. He has his own child back in his actual universe after all and takes care of him so well.

He's the type to proudly show those messy drawings his kid makes to his friends and act like his kid is the next Pablo Pacasso even if all they drew was a stick figure.

He also wants you to try new things but he won't force you if you truly don't want too, all in all. Welts such a sweet and supportive dad <33

Blade as a father? Now I wouldn't say he's the worst but he's not the best either. Biological or not, if he was tasked to take care of a kid, he will. He may not understand much about how to be a good father he manages to keep them fed, clothes ect. And with the help of the other Stellaron Hunters they're taken care of well

.

.

.

Except when it comes to affection. He'll try his best but his job makes it hard for him to really be home and hang out with his kid, not to mention he still has that want to die. He's emotionally unavailable most of the time. He's trying his best but he won't be much good if someone were to want to vent to him (Sorry!)

He can also sound harsh in some of his words and the kid may not get the message he's trying to convey! He may say something he sees as positive but his tone and what not makes it seem harsh.

Overall? 7.5/10 as a father

Jing Yuan I think is also a great father! Though like Blade, his job does make him unavailable most of the time. Especially since he's a General.

BUT, we both know this man would drop anything if his kid were to message/call or anything of the source of they were in trouble. Even if it was to just make a complaint about the babysitter he hired to take care of his kid.

He does everything he should to ensure his kid is loved and taken care of, and sure he may not have as much time as he'd like to spend time with his kid, he tries his best.

As a father, I'd give him a 9.5/10.

I'm unsure what Luochas thoughts on about taking care of kids in all honesty. As a doctor himself, he is aware of the cycle of life but whether or not he wishes to be apart of helping the kid grow up is unknown.

I don't think he'd have any adopted kids or something like that, however if he were to get someone pregnant he wouldn't leave them. He was a factor in how the baby was made and if the other person wishes to give birth to said kid then he'll help.

He's not a distant father per say, maybe strict but he doesn't mean to come out as harsh. He does everything a father should do and encourages his kid to study and all. He's not the most amazing father to have, honestly his kids probably prefer their other parent over him (Unless they left him and he became a single father)

All in all, while he may not be the best father he's not the worst and probably is just your average dad. 8/10

I love Dan Heng so much if you didn't know (I say as if my tumblr theme isn't Dan Heng) and this isn't even a bias but I do think he'd be a good father.

He's so worried he won't be but he really is. He remembers everything his kid likes and dislikes and applies it when he's cooking or buying something in general. He won't force his kid to do anything they don't want and will help them study.

He'd be proud of his kids, even if their grades are bad. To him, as long as they tried that's all he cares about. He may struggle with showing his care towards them, however it's easy to see he's trying.

If I had to choose out of all the male cast who I think would be the best dad? Probably Welt. I mean from what I know he already has the experience with kids and now he's taking care of 3 more (4 if you wanna count Pom Pom)...but also it's funny to call him Grandpa instead-

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Asher and I sit in the living room of his apartment. I’ve been here a few times before to hang out with Lex and watch a movie or two, so I know this cluttered space well. Today, I sit on the worn rug with my back against her old couch. She was dragging me to the flea market one Saturday when she spotted it on the curb outside a tall brownstone apartment building. She likes patterns and bright colors, and this couch has both. Though, you wouldn’t have known it when we first looked at it. It wasn’t until she spent the entire afternoon and evening cleaning it with a determination and vigor that only Lex possesses for vintage furniture that the bright yellow color really shone. To me, it looks like something out of a basement room in 1995, but to her it is complete perfection, and it’s cozy, which is what matters most to her.

When I insist that I’m fine on the floor, Asher makes a point to lie down and stretch his body across the sofa behind me, as if to imply I’ll regret it, but I can’t change my mind. But, what he doesn't know, is my reason for choosing to sit on the floor rather than Lex’s famous yellow couch: The sketchbook I caught sight of poking out from the edge of the red-painted pallet-turned-coffee-table.

“Is this yours?” I ask as I pick it up and start flipping through it.

“Yeah, just something I was trying out,” he says nonchalantly, though I feel him sit up, watching me curiously.

The pages are full of different types of grasses and wildflowers, mostly individual ones where he practiced different species from different angles and different stages of life, some with color, some not, some have bugs or grasshoppers on them or bees buzzing around. Then, there are a couple pages with vibrant meadows. There’s one with a lone tree blowing in the breeze, with leaves being carried away. Another with a dog running through, a butterfly on his nose. They’re so intricate and detailed that I feel the need to sneeze just looking at them.

“Ash, these are amazing.”

“Thank you.”

He leans over my shoulder, and I feel my entire left side register his sudden closeness. Pointing to the page he says, “That’s my dog, Jasper. There’s at least one of him in every book I’ve had since I got him.”

“How long have you had him?”

“Uhm,” he pauses to mentally calculate, “almost eight years.”

“Oh wow. Must be tons of them.”

“Hundreds. I have a few books dedicated just to him. When I first got him, I would study him, drawing different parts over and over, his nose, ears, the different expressions of his eyes. For a while, I became completely obsessed with drawing his paws.” He stops to laugh at the memory, “It wasn’t easy either. He’s so energetic, it’s impossible for him to keep still unless he’s sleeping. Even if I do catch him sitting still, he’ll run to me the second he sees me looking at him.”

I just give a quiet chuckle in response. I don’t know anything about dogs. Or art. But I like the way Asher looks when he talks about both. He always lights up, whether he’s animated and excited, or casual and relaxed, the same spark is still there lighting up his face. 

When I don’t say anything, he smiles, lies back on the sofa, “Y’know, I was watching you today.”

I set the sketchbook aside and turn to face him, resting my elbow on the sofa seat, careful not to get close enough to touch him. “You were, huh?”

“Did you know that when you concentrate, you do this thing where you pucker your lips?” He attempts to imitate this thing I supposedly do, but fails when he starts laughing at himself, or at me, probably both.

“I do not.”

“You do,” he lets out a sound that can only be described as a choked giggle, and it makes me spit a laugh.

“So, what, you just stand there and stare at my lips like a creep, or something?”

“It’s hard not to. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Not like that anyway.” He tries to imitate it again, only to devolve into giggles.

“You do the opposite, y’know.”

“What do you mean, the opposite?”

“When you’re really focused, you suck in your bottom lip and like, hold it between your teeth.”

He takes a moment to try it out and then nods his head when the action feels familiar, “Oh shit, yeah, I do do that, don’t I? Here you are, giving me shit, and it turns out you’re the one staring at my lips.”

“It’s hard not to.” I stop and let the words hang in the air, mostly to see how he’d react, but also because it’s not a lie. Catching him biting his lower lip at work sometimes can be mildly distracting. He nudges my shoulder gently with his leg and says with a grin, “Creep.”

Then, with a raised voice and a wave of his arm he says, “Okay, but the best,” as if it’s now some kind of competition that he’s clearly about to win, “is the singing! The way you like, sing to yourself when you’re working.”

“What about it?”

“Well, for one, it’s cute as hell, but also, if I did that, everyone would be so annoyed with me and tell me to shut up. I don’t know how you get away with it over there.”

I scoff, “No one is gonna tell me to shut up. For one, I’m cute as hell,” I say with a smile, and continue before he can interrupt, “but I don’t know, I can’t help it. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time. But I think I’m quiet enough that most of them just tune me out by now, and besides, I have an amazing voice.”

“You’re awfully confident about that.”

“I should be. I’m professionally trained.”

“Are you really?”

“Yeah, our parents were very strict about the skills we had to learn growing up, and singing was one of them.”

“Well, shit, now I want to hear you sing for real.”

“I’m not just gonna perform for you, but I’m sure if you hang around me long enough, you will eventually.”

Unsatisfied with that answer, he says, “Hm. Do you ever do karaoke?”

“Yeah, karaoke’s fun. But you can’t just watch me. If we do that, I will make you sing at least one song with me.”

“That’s fair, I’d do that. As long as you promise not to make fun of me if I’m terrible.”

“I’d never.”

“Okay, but now I’m curious, what other secret skills do you have?”

“Uhh, let’s see, there was the singing, and then we had to learn to speak French, fluently—”

“And who’s ‘we’?”

“Oh, me and Dawn, my twin sister.”

“I didn’t know you were twins. I’m going to have follow-up questions, but okay so singing and French, what else?”

I can’t help but smile as his eyes shine with genuine enthusiasm. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone be this excited to know about me. I have to admit, it’s really flattering. I’ve never considered myself to be a very interesting person, especially to someone as charismatic and creative as he is. Somehow, he makes me feel like I am, though, so I continue, “The last one was piano, which was the worst of all of them.”

“Oh my god, right?!” He slams his hand down on the couch so hard that he practically sits up and it makes me jump. “I had to take piano lessons too, and I fucking hated it. Can you still play?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure I could figure it out, but why would I?”

“Good point,” he laughs, “I definitely can’t. Honestly, I don’t even remember how to read music, but don’t tell my dad that.”

“Why would your dad care if you can’t read music?”

“Because he’s a fucking composer!” he announces, with a wave of his arms. “Oh my god, the poor man, though, he really wanted Iris and me to share his love of music. Iris is my sister, by the way, but not a twin, she’s two years older than me. Anyway, neither of us took to it, and we both ended up doing visual arts. She’s a graphic designer, and I make fucking trees for video games.”

“Hey, you do way more than trees! You also make grass and weeds!” I say this with a hint of sarcasm, obviously he’ll do far more than that as the project progresses.

“Right, I fucking love weeds,” it comes out almost aggressive, he clearly means it, and I start to wonder if his casualness about the wildflowers was more of an act that I initially thought. “I tried a bunch of instruments though. He bought me a guitar when I was twelve, ‘cause like, who doesn’t want to learn guitar, right? Me. That’s who. I gave up after a week because my fingers hurt,” he stops for a moment to laugh at himself and I marvel at his smile as it stretches from ear-to-ear, his gray eyes bright and intense, “and THEN,” his words coming out quicker and more animated as he goes on, “he was like ‘alright well the kid’s got rhythm at least, how about the drums?’ And like, okay, the drums were fun and all, but I just couldn’t care less. I’d fuck around on them, but I had no interest in learning to be a good drummer. The best he was ever going to get out of me was dancing. Otherwise, I just want to put my headphones on and draw.”

“Well, I’m glad you pursued your passion in the end because you really are talented. The detail you put into your work, it’s the best I’ve seen.”

“Aw, well, shit, thank you,” he extends his hand out, but it comes just short of my arm, so he tugs the sleeve of my cardigan gently with his fingers and holds onto it. I think my compliment caught him off guard because he’s no longer laughing and his voice is softer now, “and, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. My dad is the sweetest, most supportive man in the world. If anything, I think I was a bit spoiled. I feel a little guilty that he kept investing in these instruments that I would just toss aside. There’s no way I can disappoint him further by admitting I don’t even know how to read music anymore.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure him, “your secret is safe with me.”

I’m acutely aware that his leg is resting against me now, and he’s rolling the fabric of my sleeve between his thumb and middle finger. Normally, I would have already scooted away from the sofa. Pivoted my body so the conversation could continue, but so that I could not be touched. But I don’t feel any need to do that. Not with him. His affection is so subtle and absent-minded; I can tell he’s just feeling comfortable with me. Something about that makes me feel comfortable with him too.

What really takes me by surprise, though, is that I want more. I want to lie next to him on the couch, to rest my head on his chest, to feel him run his fingers through my hair while he watches tv and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat keeps my own calm and quiet. Somewhere deep inside, I know exactly how it would feel, and I ache for it.

“Hey,” he tugs on my sleeve, pulling me out of my thoughts, “where did you go?”

“I’m right here,” I tell him.

“You left for a minute there. What were you thinking about?”

I’m not really sure how to answer the question. I try, but I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound ridiculous, so no words come out.

He cocks his head to the side a bit, looking curious, and says, “I can’t read you. It’s like your thoughts and feelings are written all over your face, but I don’t speak the language, so I can’t decipher your expressions.”

“Ahh,” he sits up with a groan and covers his face with his hands, “fuck, I’m sorry. That sounded really lame, and I regretted it as soon as it came out. Please, just tell me what you were thinking about, distract me from my embarrassment.”

I chuckle quietly. I don’t think what he said was that lame. I know what he meant. But his current state of vulnerability gives me just enough courage to attempt to answer his question, so I give it my best shot.

“I was just thinking that it feels like I’ve known you for years. Not that I’m feeding you some line about how it feels like we’ve known each other forever or something. But you just feel… familiar? I guess. Like, you know when you watch a movie that you haven’t seen in years. You don’t remember it, and you don’t know what happens, but you remember what's happening as it’s happening. Like déjà vu but not. I don’t know. I’m not making sense.” I give up and let my head fall forward onto the couch to hide my face, “maybe I should go before we continue to embarrass ourselves more.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves his hand to the top of my head and runs his fingers through my hair. It feels exactly the way I knew it would. The way his long fingers run across my scalp, then curl and pull on the strands gently toward the ends, letting them fall little by little. Somehow, I know the feel of his hands as well as my own. I freeze, trying not to move or make a sound. It’s almost as though, if I don’t acknowledge the act, I can ensure he doesn’t stop. And I don’t want him to.

But he does. The sudden tension in my body makes him pull away, “I’m sorry. Was that okay?”

I lift my head up and soften, “Yeah, it was okay. Unexpected, but it was nice.”

“Okay, good. I know I can be a bit touchy-feely sometimes, so if I ever make you uncomfortable, you can tell me. But I’ll be better about asking you first.”

“Thank you,” I say with a nod.

“Of course,” the words come out so gentle and quiet, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a such a sweet half smile that it makes me melt a little. And then he adds, “I really like hanging out with you, Atlas.”

I am officially a puddle on the floor. “Me too.”

Prev // Next

✨I wanna give a HUGE shoutout to @madebycoffee for creating the poses for this scene!! They are so perfect, I literally sobbed when I put them in my game 😭 It means so much to me to be able to bring this scene to life the way I imagined it. I absolutely adore you, Coffee, and I am forever grateful to have met you and to have the opportunity to share this love of writing and sims with you!! Thank you for loving my boys and for making this moment possible for them! 💖

[boldlybrightsun]

Jay Love Language

Jay's love language would be physical affection and Gifting/Receiving gifts.

He is clingy. Read it again.

He will not shy away to shower you with physical affection.

Hugs, kisses, cuddles, rubs, pats, etc. He will attempt all forms of physical affection available on this planet.

He is the type of person who cannot keep his hands off his partner. He feels very happy and safe when he has one arm around you and even just toucing you in general. He can actually become really sad and very grief-stricken if he cannot touch you. (Yes he will legit start mourning if he cannot meet you or be with you)

Gifting and receiving gifts is so important to him!

It doesn't have to be expensive and most of the time it isn't. I apologize to all the Sugar Daddy Jay lovers lmao.

He will definitely spend on you but only if you're his wife or if he is really serious about the relationship.

Do not expect that treatment in the initial stages of the relationship is all I'm saying. Moving on..

The type of gifts he loves to give would be something special for you and you only like composing a song for you, writing a poem or drawing something. Basically anything creative.

He genuinely prefers that you do the same and give him something really personal. Remember that Taurus sign is ruled by Venus and Venus not only stands for material stuff but art too.

Now, I'm not saying he wouldn't prefer material stuff, he definitely would, but he is someone who knows exactly what he wants if you're trying to impress him with material stuff I bid you good luck. Unless you really know what he likes personally it might actually be really hard to please him in terms of gifts.

He is the type to share his food with you and take you out to places he deems worthy enough for you to visit. He wouldn't let his s/o eat at just some place and would do thorough analysis on whether you would like this place or not. He is one of those people who always says stuff like "Wow this place is nice I'm going to bring my s/o here" much to the dismay of the other members who came with there lol.

Elaborating more on the above point, he cannot shut up about you for the love of God. My s/o did this, went there and looked like this, blah blah. Will not shut up to other people about you. Your biggest supporter.

Though he might not agree, he is very good at consoling people when it is required. If you want him to answer what would he do if you became a worm, sorry, he will say he'll throw you out.

Jay Love Language MTL

Physical Affection == Giving / Receiving Gifts

Quality Time == Acts of Service

Words of Affirmation

[katerinaaqu]

Menelaus Headcanon: A small analysis based on a moment in the Odyssey

Random Headcanon: Menelaus having heart problems

So if people remember, in the Odyssey Telemachus is advised by Athena to travel and ask questions about his father. After being advised by Nestor to travel to Sparta and meet Menelaus, Telemachus engages in one of his most emotional conversations about his father, with Menelaus who was always greatly fond of Odysseus. In fact the conversation became so emotional for the men that Helen went to prepare wine for them all and she poured a drug in the wine so their pain would subside.

But why did she do that?

Surely no matter how emotional the conversation was, it wouldn't be THAT necessary to do that right? It seems pretty extreme on the outside that she should drug the wine to help the men relax.

Unless she feared that Menelaus couldn't handle it.

I am immensely inspired by amazing artists that draw Menelaus such as @thehelplessmortals who created pieces of art in regards to Menelaus and the peers connected to him. Menelaus is probably in the same age group as Odysseus or maybe a little younger if we take into account that Odysseus was probably at the age of his older brother Agamemnon if not a bit older so that means that if he wasn't already entering his 50s, he was at least in his final 40s. Many people had their health deterriorating by that time yet alone someone like Menelaus.

His health could have had reached a small curve given how his heart was broken when Helen left with Paris, 10 years of hard war to get her back, the slaughter of Troy and finally the shipwreck before getting back home. However what if Menelaus was suffering from some heart condition? That could make Helen even more aware and even over-protective of her husband. Hence being ready with the drug to calm her husband down from getting too much emotion and sdrain for his heart.

Besides the original homeric text goes:

"But then Helen the daughter of Zeus had another idea; she took the wine and poured in medicine/drug and mixed it in the crater so that it would counter the tears flowing from their cheeks not even if their mother or father died or even before their very eyes a brother or a friend or son were killed by bronze spear. Such were the cunning drugs the daughter of Zeus knew, given to her by Polydamna, wife to Thonos, in Egypt, for the life-giving earth has many medicines, some are mixed with cunning and some for healing, known to the physician who knows more than the other humans, since they belong to the bloodline of Paeon. After she had poured the wine, she said:"

(translation by me)

Interestingly in ancient greek the term "drug" and the term "medicine" are actually signified by the same word (φάρμακον) which is also used for "poison" as well. However not only does the word also significes the healing medicine but also he brings Helen knowing medicine and the physician into the talk.

Homer almost calls Helen a "physician" in here. And whom is she curing?

Menelaus!

If Helen was aware of Menelaus having health issues especially related to his heart, she would always have medicine in handy and she would try her best to treat her husband as well as have drugs ready so that she would calm her husband if he ever got too emotional to protect him from further strain to his heart

But what do you guys think? Agree or disagree please let me know at the comments/reblogs below! ^_^

[separatist-apologist]

Promise To Be Dazzling

Summary: Only a fool would expect a god to uphold their promises.

Elain Archeron is no fool

Note: This started as feysand filth and when I mentioned it to @velidewrites, she very big-brained suggested I switch it to koschlain.

TW for dubious consent. If you read it, thats on you. | Read on AO3

-

Breathing hard, Elain Archeron tried not to think about her predicament.

Naked.

Tied to what felt like a rather hard stone surface, her legs splayed wide, arms tied up over her head. She’d struggled for what felt like hours—until her wrists were bloodied and her body chafed. It did no good. Her restraints were magic and unless the person who’d created them willed her free, Elain was stuck as she was. 

She couldn’t even ask. Her mouth was bound in cloth, her eyes covered so she couldn’t see. Terrified as she was, Elain couldn’t pretend her predicament wasn’t of her own making. She’d made a deal with the wind days after coming out of the cauldron.

It had whispered so sweetly in her ear, promising to make her human if only she was their eyes and ears. Listen to private conversations, whisper it back when no one was around. Elain had done as she was told and this was what she’d gotten for her trouble.

The sound of boots echoing around her stilled her heart. The steps were deliberately slow to draw out her fear, her torment. Against her better judgment, Elain began writhing again which earned her a dark chuckle in response.

“Prettier than I imagined,” the dark, disembodied voice murmured. 

What did you imagine? She couldn’t ask. Elain didn’t realize he was close enough to touch her until she felt a leather gloved finger slide up her thigh. Elain shivered, jerking once again for all the good it did. She barely moved an inch at all. That finger was, just like everything else, torturously slow as it made its way further up her leg.

It paused at the seam of her thigh.

“I can hear your heart,” the dark voice whispered, “beating through stone.”

Elain screamed through the fabric, the sound muffled. He only chuckled. 

“I like the sound of that,” he admitted, taking what felt like a truly massive hand to push her legs wider. Her scream became a whimper as she wondered what he was going to do to her. She knew, of course—knew the intent behind stripping her to nothing and spreading her out—but there were so many things he could do in between having his way with her.

The not knowing only heightened her fear. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for this, in time,” he continued, squeezing her flesh lightly. Her body responded to the closeness of his fingers, the whispered air that ghosted over her exposed cunt. Elain swallowed hard, leaning her head back until it touched the stone slab she was resting atop of. 

I’ll never forgive you.

He chuckled again.

“I’ve been watching you, Elain Archeron. I admit, you were nothing but a convenient little pawn to me. At first. But you’ve become so much more. They trust you. I trust you.”

Elain squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the way his hands were sliding up her thighs, closer and closer to meeting in the middle. Hadn’t she wanted him to trust her? 

Hadn’t she worked harder than she needed to, slipping into spaces she didn’t belong, making friends with servants who gossiped, ingratiating herself with Rhys’ inner circle until they trusted her implicitly? 

And she knew who was touching her, though Elain didn’t want to admit it. She’d kept her whispered bargain a secret from everyone—even her sister, who could read her mind—including herself in some ways. Elain had never let herself truly think about what she was doing or who she was betraying.

In that way, she could still hold on to being a good person. 

“Your human remarried,” the dark voice murmured just as one of those gloved fingers spread her cunt open wider. “Did you know that?”

Elain turned her head. She hadn’t known. It had all been for nothing, then. She'd made a bargain with a death god for a man who wouldn't even wait. Who'd left her behind like garbage. Anger pooled in her gut.

“It's been three years. He’s forgotten you…but you still cling to him. I mean to make you forget.”

Take my memories, she pleaded silently, trying not to think about what was happening between her legs. There was some sort of excruciatingly slow exploration happening from a creature that knew it had all the time in the world. 

“Your anger is potent,” he sighed. Was it his thumb drawing indolent circles against her cunt. Elain felt the shallow dip of a leather finger into her body, drawing forth slick heat that humiliated her. She didn’t want to enjoy this—her body was its own animal, acting outside of her control. “I want to taste it.”

No! 

There was nothing but that whispering wind, too cold to feel comfortable as it trailed over her breasts, teasing sensitive, exposed nipples. Elain struggled vainly, though she and the man between her legs both knew it was fruitless. 

“I mean to make you my queen,” he whispered, his breath warm against her thigh. Elain jerked, again, for nothing. His tongue pressed flat against her skin, licking up, up, up—

“Don’t you want revenge?”

Elain didn’t know what she wanted. Sometimes she indulged herself in dark fantasies—begging Nesta to drag Hybern from the grave so she could make him suffer as she had. Of watching everyone around her get the life they’d always dreamed of while she was trapped in a body that she hadn’t chosen. She wanted to feel safe in her skin again, wanted to feel alive as she must have once. She'd forgotten how that felt. Everything had been ripped from her. 

Stripped of the life she’d wanted so desperately.

It’s unfair, she thought, a tear sliding from the corner of her eye. What did it say about her that the first time she cried since she’d been unceremoniously stolen from her bed was when she thought about how her sisters were getting the lives they’d always wanted? And not about the creature kneeling between her legs, breathing on her cunt? Surely there was some other way. Some other path.

“It is unfair,” he murmured, proving he could hear her thoughts. “They treat you so abhorrently…like an afterthought. Like you’re nothing but an ornament. But you’re not…are you?”

No, she thought, another tear slipping down her cheek.

“They use you and then discard you,” he continued, kissing the very bottom of her cunt. Elain shivered from the intimacy of the touch. “I would unleash you.” How? 

He didn’t respond, that tongue that had once teased over her cold skin now finding a home between her legs. His mouth was hot, like flames licking over her as he took his time. It was languid the way he licked up the center of her body, swirling over her clit before returning down the same path.

Elain whimpered, unsure if she hated it or she liked it. It was wrong—so, so wrong. Was he making her want it? Elain thrashed, trying to extend her legs so she could kick him in the face. He only laughed, that tongue dipping into her body with a heady groan. 

“That rage…it’s potent,” he murmured, sliding his tongue into her body a second time. “The taste is divine.”

Elain couldn’t move, was pinned to that slab and forced to endure the slow torment of his mouth. He was unhurried, teasing around her clit without touching, or using his fingers to press against her entrance as if he’d go further only to draw back. The cold air blew against the heat of his mouth, keeping Elain confused and off balanced.

She couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t get used to the sensations so she could block them out. As consequence, her mind traced every little touch which seemed to only heighten the pleasure she didn’t want to feel, which she suspected was the point. 

He pulled back, using his thumb to draw lazy circles over her clit as arousal flared bright in her lower belly.

“Why are you fighting me?” he asked, his voice breathless with excitement. “You know who I am…what I am.”

Elain shook her head back and forth, still blinded to everything around her, still rendered mute by the cloth pressed tight over her mouth. She didn’t want to know anything.

He sighed, clearly disappointed if the click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth was any indication. He returned to her body, though all the slowness was gone. He was determined, it seemed, to pull the reaction from her that he wanted. To hold her strings like his puppet and make her dance.

Just like everyone else. Elain felt her anger building just as surely as her arousal, drawing her higher and higher as his teeth scraped against delicate skin. There was nothing nice, nothing polite about what he was doing now. It was a show of force, of dominance. Fingers plunged into her body, one after the other until Elain was stretched so painfully around him it made her ache. His tongue stayed on her clit, swirling and sucking loud enough she could hear the obscene sounds echoing from the stone.

The pain was its own distraction. When he began pumping those three fingers into her body, Elain hissed as she arched her hips into the air to try and escape the onslaught.

“Take it,” he ordered, his voice edged roughly. “This is what you like.”

I hate you!

He only laughed, sucking her clit into his mouth so roughly that Elain screamed around the cloth again. 

He laughed again. 

Elain didn’t enjoy it—she repeated it over and over in her mind, even as her hips jerked of their own accord, rolling into the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers and the heady warmth of his tongue. This wasn’t what Graysen had done. He’d been soft, he’d been kind, he’d—

“He didn’t make you feel anything,” the creature between her legs all but snarled. “He chose someone else. You mean nothing to him.”

Elain tried to kick again, despite how her legs were bent, feet flailing helplessly in the air. She’d done everything for Gray, and where had it gotten her. Tied spread eagle in a madman’s palace while he licked her cunt. 

His tongue moved faster, up and down the length of her as he fucked her with his fingers. Elain was barreling toward release and nothing was stopping it. Her mind might not love what he did, but her body was desperate, moving of its own accord even when she forced herself to stop. He knew it, licking and sucking until Elain couldn’t keep it to herself.

She’d told herself she’d just come quietly. That she’d swallow the scream clawing at her throat, that she wouldn’t let herself clench around him.

She screamed anyway. Loud enough it felt like there was nothing covering her mouth, the sound echoing through the whole world. It felt primal—she heard the rage. He heard it, too, drinking it down as Elain lost herself to the unspooling pleasure.

She’d only ever finished around her own fingers, hidden beneath blankets in the dead of the night. Elain had wanted to with Gray, but she’d been so nervous and he’d been so quick that there hadn’t been time. 

They’d never had the chance to try again. 

For a moment, the bliss of shattering silenced the screaming in her mind. She forgot who was touching her or why, forgot that she was tied up. The pleasure was so intense it nearly drew forth a vision—Elain felt the magic crowding against her vision, desperate to show her some terrible glimpse of the future she didn’t want to see.

Reality came crashing back all too soon. He was still at it, as if determined to take as much as he could get. Elain’s body liked the onslaught, cresting immediately toward that precipice before she’d managed to catch her breath. She wiggled against him—everything was painfully sensitive, though not so sensitive she couldn’t come again.

And she did, this time with a strangled cry that seemed to please him because finally he pulled back.

“Your cunt is the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, sounding as though he’d run a marathon. She felt him wipe his wet fingers over her thighs before turning to lick it right back up. “I’ll have a dress made for you.”

Elain jerked her whole body like a child throwing a temper tantrum. She hadn’t realized he’d waved away the gag until her voice exploded, hoarse and unused, from her throat. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“My pretty little liar,” he murmured, rising to his feet. Those same gloved hands slid up her body, twisting her nipples painfully before they reached for the edge of the blindfold. “This is part of the game, isn’t it?”

“There is no game,” she informed him, hating how she could still feel the aftershocks of two orgasms rocking through her body.

She hated more how her cunt was mourning the loss of his fingers. 

He pulled at the blindfold, allowing her to see both her surroundings and himself for the first time. Their eyes locked—his a solid black, devoid of the familiar white that would have made him look human.

He was otherworldly, his dark hair falling over his face to drape against his shoulders. A spiking, onyx crown gleamed like vicious knives in the flickering torchlight hanging overhead. Beautiful in a way no human or faerie could ever be. Power radiated from his powerful form, swirling around her in the form of that cold wind.

“You’re the sweet little lady, are you not?” he questioned, cocking his head as his lips pulled upward with an amused smile. “Ever prim, ever proper. Little Elain would never ever hurt someone's feelings.”

His words mocked her. 

Elain glared, drinking in the pale skin that looked as if it hadn’t seen the sun in a milenia, the cut of his cheekbones that gave him such an imperious look, the power of his jaw, the largeness of his body.

Koschei the deathless. 

“We had a deal,” Elain whispered. This had never been part of it.

He shrugged. “I am not bound by the rules of the fae. I can lie,” he said, wrinkling his nose as if the thought of honoring his word was distasteful. “Why would I destroy perfection?”

“Please,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

“Careful,” he replied before snapping her fingers. The wind around her contorted her body in a rush of air, pressing against her ribs as the restraints around her forced her to the ground, kneeling before him. Her hands were restrained behind her back, tied to her ankles so there was no escape save for just falling on her side. 

He reached for her chin, holding it gently. “Please,” she whispered again.

“It is I who will do anything you ask,” he informed her, pushing her face away as he reached for the dark trousers he wore. “And you who will give the commands. I who will lead our armies while you tell me where to place them. And together, we will bring ruin to this world.”

Elain turned her head when he pulled out his cock, well aware of what he expected her to do. He only laughed, as if the entire thing amused him, but she was determined she would not do anything before he agreed to make her human again.

He turned her head forcefully, making her look at the thick, large appendage staring her down. “Open.”

“I—”

She lacked the experience to know better than to try and talk back. He forced himself through her lips, gripping the top of her head to keep her from rearing back. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispered, the words punctuated by a groan. “I want to serve you. It pains me to see you on your knees, debased in this way.” Elain had no experience doing this sort of thing. Graysen had merely penetrated her in the ways she expected, and Elain’s knowledge around sucking came from conversations she overheard and from some of the books she’d read. It didn’t seem hard, save for how far back he pushed. Elain drooled around him as she adjusted her jaw to fit him.

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to break her down. To make her beg. Elain gagged softly around him, which only seemed to frenzy him. His grip in her hair tightened as he thrust, using her as though she were nothing of consequence. Just long enough she was growing a little frightened he’d forget she was a living thing at all.

He pulled back, withdrawing himself so strings of saliva connected them. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, snapping his fingers. Elain’s restraints vanished, as did the small dungeon she realized she’d been held in. Blinking as she scrambled to her feet, Elain found herself standing in a bedroom a mere second later. 

“You make me feel alive again,” he informed her, pants pulled back up over his hips. Had that been magic, too? Elain didn’t move as he prowled toward her, grabbing her face roughly between long, still-gloved fingers. Lowering his face, he placed a vicious, claiming kiss against her lips.

Elain reached for the tops of his arms to shove him away, fingers curling over muscle. She didn’t shove, though. She merely held him there, nails digging through the black fabric until he groaned.

“That’s what I want,” he whispered, dropping his forehead against her own. “Use me as you wish.” She slapped him hard, the ring on her pointer finger cutting across his lip. Their eyes met as he realized what she’d done. It had only just caught up with Elain, too. She’d slapped a death god across the face.

He could snap his fingers and end her life if he wanted to. He reached forward, faster than her eyes could track, to grip her by the throat.

“Did that feel good?”

“Yes,” she whispered, half scared, half aroused. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he replied, lips ghosting over hers as his fingers squeezed tighter. She could still breathe, but he controlled it. He controlled everything. 

Using his hold on her neck, Koschei shoved Elain to the bed before prowling toward her. She managed to scramble back just a little before he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back. 

“You asked me to remake you,” he snarled, using magic to hold her still so she could watch him undress. Elain didn’t bother trying to fight him, too curious about his word. “Begged me to and yet you would reject immortality?”

Elain couldn’t even argue his point. What was she holding on to? “Immortality?” she asked softly as he revealed a sculpted chest inch by inch. “You’ve lied about everything else.” “Not this,” he breathed, pants falling to the ground. He was wholly naked—wonderfully so—and Elain was still lying there, propped up only by her elbows.

“Prove it,” she demanded. “You’re a liar.”

That amused him. Crawling onto the bed so he could kneel between her thighs, he cocked his head so all that dark hair spilled to one broad shoulder. “Immortality hurts.”

“So did the cauldron,” she replied with more fierceness than she felt. “I survived.”

“That you did,” he murmured, caressing her face. “I could make it pleasurable. Could unmake you while you screamed around my cock.”

Elain only stared at him, ignoring his fingers that caressed her bared breasts. “In exchange for what?”

He chuckled. “Why are you fighting me?”

“You stole me out of my bed,” she reminded him. “Tied me up—”

“Gave you pleasure beyond your wildest imagination,” he finished, triumph gleaming in those lightless eyes. “Swore to make you my queen.”

“Queen,” she repeated slowly as those fingers made their way toward her neck. “Not queen consort.”

“Your vengeance is mine,” he breathed, squeezing again as he lowered his body against her own. “Your will, my will.”

“Swear it,” she ordered, holding his gaze. "Make me your equal."

“Even though I lie?” “

Swear anyway,” she said, knowing full well trusting a liar was a mistake. 

“In this, you can trust me. I swear,” he said, cock lined up against her cunt. Elain didn’t have time to take a breath before he plunged himself into her, causing her to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. At the same time, air poured through her nose, chilling her body from the inside out.

Elain’s body jerked upward, unable to cope with the onslaught of sensations. Balanced on the edge of a knife, Elain could feel him thrusting into her as the magic worked its way through her blood just as the magic of the cauldron had once done.

Only this time, Elain wasn’t alone. She wasn’t drowning—she wasn’t drying. It felt like living. Every feeling was intensified—like falling in love, like a broken heart. Elain laughed breathlessly as her sharp senses intensified and vision after vision flitted behind her eyes. The wind picked up, warm and soft to drive away the chill. The images were fleeting—of flames and shadows, of fear, and death, and life, and rebirth. 

Koschei the Deathless would wreck destruction but Elain…Elain would remake life itself. Elain looked up through hazy eyes, her vision strangely clouded.

“Beautiful,” Koschei murmured, a triumphant smile crowning his face. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“I feel…” Elain exhaled as the pain subsided, reminding her of the pleasure that had faded to the background. Whatever magic he wove—or, perhaps he was simply good with his cock—had

Elain panting before she could truly come to grips with the body she found herself in. “I feel alive.”

“You are alive,” he breathed, pressing his mouth to her neck. Sharp teeth scraped delicate skin, drawing a soft moan from her throat. “No one can take anything from you ever again. Do you feel it? Feel your power?”

“I do,” she agreed, fingers fisting the silken black sheets beneath her. “The power to restart.”

“Revenge, first, my dark queen,” he murmured, licking up the column of her throat. “They don’t deserve to live in your paradise.”

“No,” she agreed, dragging her nails down the muscular ridges of his back. 

“Tell me you hate me,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, those fingers back around her neck. 

“I’m yours,” Elain managed, pleasure washing over her. She was so close—close to everything she’d ever wanted. And as her new power began to slip through her blood, mending all the cracked parts of her soul, Elain felt peace for the first time maybe in her life. No more pretending, no more showing everyone what they wanted to see. No more making herself small, letting herself be touched by those who would harm her.

“There you are,” Koschei whispered, when their eyes met. “I have been waiting centuries for you.”

Elain reached for the crown atop his head, held by some kind of absurd magic, and tossed it across the room. The deathless god threw his head back and laughed, rising upward while pulling her into his lap. They were still connected, his cock still lodged in her body as his thrusting slowed. 

Fisting his hair, Elain kissed him. Not as his victim, or his captive, but as his ruination. He groaned, gripping her hips to bounce her over his cock until he was breathless and desperate. He didn’t know, too lost to his own pleasure, his own plans, to realize he no longer held any power. Not over her. He’d made her his equal.

In Elain’s perfect world, there was no death. Only beautiful, everlasting, incandescent life. 

Koschei pulled back to look at her. “You have given me everything,” she whispered, wondering if he knew that one day, she’d step over his lifeless body with a smile.

He didn’t know. Her own magic pulled, telling her the truth of the matter. She could see his rotting face smiling at her with bleached bones and hollow, bird-picked eyes. The future was clear to her now. No longer a puzzle but a complete picture. 

He slammed her against him roughly, and Elain came with a cry. Her nails dug sharply into his shoulder, though no blood welled from the wounds. He was immortal—and for now, she couldn’t hurt him.

He came, too, filling her with come that dripped down her thighs to pool between them. He couldn’t speak, could scarcely breathe, tucking her against him like she was precious. Like she was fragile.

Like she wasn’t a knife in the dark.

 Elain sighed, wind ruffling her hair. From across the room, she saw her own beautiful face staring back at her, reflected in a large mirror. Her once brown eyes had become a whiteless gray, clouded like a storm over the sea. 

No light. No dark. No death. 

Did he know, she wondered? Did he know what she'd seen all those years before? The means to destroying him kept secret from everyone but her own tightly guarded mind. Her careful planning, the betrayal of her friends, her family, her very world. Would he guess, someday? Would he ever to stop to think how easy it was to pull her from her once carefully guarded existence? How he'd seen only what he wanted, just like the rest of them? 

Did he think he'd broken her, bent her to his will? Or would he realize when his bones turned to ash, and the same wind she'd been whispering to carried him away. It was her favorite fantasy, lulling her to sleep night after night- and had ever since she'd emerged from the Cauldron.

Elain smiled.

[red-dia]

Twitter user @/inspirashamul dug up an old Ichikawa interview from 2015. I don't think there's anything earthshattering, but it's still pretty cool (and I think it's the only time she's directly acknowledged the 7 treasures ? unless i'm mistaken)

Transcription under the cut :

"Throughout history gems have decorated every aspect of our lives - and afterlives as well. Buddhist sutras describe the Land of Bliss as a realm of dazzling splendour covered in precious gems and metals.

Furthermore, in Shariputra, the world know as the Land of Bliss, there are lotus ponds, all made of seven precious substances, namely, gold. silver, emerald, rockcrystal, red pearl, sapphire, and mother of pearl as the seventh. [...] The bottom of each pond is covered with golden sand. [...] These stairways are colourful, elegant, and made of four precious substances, namely, gold, silver, emerald, and rock crystal. "

Japanese manga author Haruko Ichikawa was inspired by this description to transform the gems into characters in her series, Houseki no Kuni (The Kingdom of Gems). In the distant future, Gem Warriors battle with the Moon People who mount raids from above to kidnap the living gems to use as for decorations.

Gem warriors look human but shatter upon impact. Their broken surfaces reflect light with a brilliant lustre. The moment of destruction is shockingly beautiful, yet they never truly die and can regain human form if their shards are put back together.

In the course of the story, we learn that the rival Gem Warriors and Moon People share the same origin-they were both once human. Bone became gemstone and the soul became the Moon People. The setup makes The Kingdom of Gems a story of humanity told through gems. Current Obsession conducted an e-mail interview with Haruko Ichikawa to find out what's behind the story and what she wants to say with her gem-laden allegory,

Background and Aesthetic

Many Japanese manga artists did not start as manga artists. Haruko Ichikawa is no exception. She was an editorial designer before she broke into manga.

'I enjoyed drawing when I was a little girl and that's why choose a high school that had an art course. Then, my interest moved from art to design, and in university, I majored in visual image design. After graduation, I worked as an editorial designer at a design company. I think the experience taught me how to design panels, how to make panels flow and how to balance black and white-basically, effective layouts that smoothly lead the eye of the reader. I'm also able to design my own books thanks to the techniques that I developed as an editorial designer.'

Usually design studios handle book design, but Ichikawa does it herself. Her brightly coloured covers glitter with lamé to suggest the world of gems waiting inside, while her minimalist two-dimensional style makes each panel stand as a pleasing piece of graphic design. The brilliance of the Gems stands out among the strong contrast of black and white pages. They look most beautiful when they shatter. The human-like appearance of the Gems makes this moment shocking, but also bewitching.

'I'm most attracted to the beauty within the horrific. Imagine the thrill of peeking at the secret hidden under a veil - an unexpected shock, or a macabre scene you can't turn away from. That's what I hope to recreate on the page.'

Her aesthetic is evident in the unique design of the characters. If the Gems are beautiful, then the bizarre Moon People are simply otherworldly. How did Ichikawa create these characters?

Character Design

There are two main groups of characters. While the colour and brilliance of gems are expressed as a Gem fighter's hair, Moon People are covered with ornate Buddhist decorations, such as multiple layers of delicate, heavenly garments and jewellery.

'When I design Gem Warriors, I try to get a specimen of the stone and base the design on its physical properties such as colour, hardness, strength, crystal shape and scarcity. On the other hand, I try to show Moon People as soft eerie beings with a hint of grace in order to make them look bizarre.'

Nearly every real world property is reflected in a Gem warrior's personality. Phosphophyllite (Phos), the main character with the "beautiful colour of shallow water on a western beach', lacks hardness and breaks as easily as actual phosphophyllite. Twin crystal amethyst is literally transformed into captivating twins, while the red-haired Cinnabar is knowledgeable, though cast as a lone wolf because her body is filled with a toxin. Real life cinnabar is known as the philosopher's stone and contains mercury. Alexandrite is usually a green-haired Moon People researcher, but she turns into a violent redhead in front actual Moon People, Her personality is in line with real alexandrite that changes colour depending on the type of light it reflects.

These properties come out as comical conversations between gems. For example, Morganite references the Mohs hardness scale when Phos grabs her. 'Hey! That was close! If you touch us directly, you're the one who's gonna shatter, three-and-a-half! Phos responds 'I am well aware, my dear seven.'

When speaking with Ichikawa it becomes apparent that her rich knowledge of stones and scientific viewpoint comes from her passion as a collector.

'My biggest pleasure is the surprise of discovery. Recently I'm most interested in how good intentions can lead to misfortune. This phenomenon happens quite often in science, which is why I like the field. I have around 300 stones in my collection. I've beest interested in stones since I was a little girl, so I've forgotten how I started to collect them: I' attracted to their simple chemical formula, near infiniteness, uniqueness, as well as the wonderful colour, texture and shape. I think every stone has its own appeal, be it a pebble on the beach or the most beautiful gem.'

Her choice of gems in the manga backs up the statement.

The Gem Warriors include valuable precious stones, such as diamond, as well as semi precious stones that are usually acknowledged as inforiors to gems. In her story, Gems vary in terms of fighting ability but are essentially treated as equals.

Inspiration

In The Kingdom of Gems, gems walk, talk and feel emotions just like us. How did Ichikawa come up with a unique idea of turning a gem into a human-shaped character?

'I had the idea that maybe minerals lived on a different time axis as ours - we just didn't realize it.'

And how did a passage from a Buddhist sutra, "the land of the Perfect Bliss is made of gems', contribute to the story?

'In the sutra gems are an accessible way to describe the beauty and majesty of the Land of Bliss. They are native to the Land of Bliss, not stolen from elsewhere. When I first read the sutra it occurred to me that Buddhism didn't consider these ornamental gems as eligible for salvation. It's not that the sutra made me feel disappointed in Buddhism or want to liberate gems myself. The sutra provides a simple message for the masses by comparing objects of unparalleled beauty to gems. It made me realize that there's a limit to our shared imagination. There's a line somewhere. So where does that put inorganic compounds? They can't speak for themselves. It's pretty convenient to ignore this and assume them to be subservient. It's hard to put my feelings into words, but I felt a very human danger - and attraction - in the vivid examples that assigned gems value and the matter-of-fact manner that passes over these same objects for salvation.

People emphasize with objects that appear human. So I followed this lite of thought - how would we react to a being that was totally unlike a human except in its appearance? Would we want to help them, or feel guilt for persecuting them? What would cause us to feel compassion? This is my experiment find out. It boils down to having empathy for others, be they organic or otherwise.

I'm also interested in what part of our nature is human, and what is animal - both the good and bad. Just as we struggle with the unknowable animal nature within us, life forms in the future will struggle with the untamed nature leftover from humans. At least, that's my hypothesis for what I write.'

This kind of humanity is strongly depicted in the conversation between Phos and Ventricosus, the ruler of the sea.

Ventricosus understands that the Moon People mean to reclaim their flesh and bones to return to their human form, but since they divided from humans so long ago there is no way back. Knowing that the character is not human makes the following dialogue all the more impressive.

'The Moon People, despite lacking natural enemies, love war and are never satisfied. I get the feeling that this undirected anxiety is leftover from when they were human.'

Unique Use of Ornamentation

All sorts of decorations will catch your eye as you read through the pages. For instance, the Moon People are defined by their lavish outfits. From their opulent fabrics to elegans curved ornamentation it's hard to imagine they are capable of such aggression.

The highly decorative quality of the Moon People and the way they steal gems to decorate their homeland makes ornamentation an allegory for earthly desires. However, Ichikawa's statement from the previous wection reveals her unique attitude to wards ornamentation. She uses gems, a typical decoration, to show how the reader feels toward the materials we use for decotation. Yet she has a positive view of the subject. For example, the Gem Warriors fashion reveals clothing lined with flower patterns and special costumes worn during hibernation. Ichikawa obviously enjoys drawing these scenes. Her pages overflow with fun.

'I appreciate sophisticated adornment, Bizarre, extravagant adornment is also atractive. I'm rather interested in the reason behind such decoration. People must have reasons to (or not to) decorate For example, some people decorate them selves to feel confident or be popular, while others don't because they have different priorities.

It's interesting to see what people place importance on.

As for the Gem Warrior outfits, materials are scarce in their world so I try to make the most of simplicity. I also wanted to show how the Gems take pleasure from fashion.

People will decorate. Some for personal reasons, and some out of a desire to get close to something greater than themselves. It is a very human behaviour we should love and be proud of.

I like decorations, I like jewellery. Even more so I like people who decorate themselves and our nature that drives us to. I'm sure many readers understand this sentiment.

However, like all human practices, the act and desire to decorate hides our vulnerabilities.'

Haruko Ichikawa points this out through characters that are living decorations themselves. She does not view this negatively. For in her world, everything is beautiful, even our weaknesses.

[crazylittlejester]

What is one head canon you have for every individual member of the chain?

only one headcanon for each of them? 🥺

Time: I’ve definitely said this one before, but he is not at all trying to be fatherly. He does care about the boys a lot, but his fatherly actions are all completely unintentional, he has no idea some of them look up to him like a dad, and he has yet to realize he looks at some of them as his kids. In his mind he’s just being kind and brotherly. He has a hard time expressing emotions and seriously struggles with facial expressions, which is why he comes off as so hard to approach and seems more responsible and dad like, but that’s not the case at all. He’s just as chaotic as the others and seriously is oblivious to how some of them look up to him

Warriors: I headcanon he comes from a family of tailors (which is a headcanon ive seen before) who own a small shop in the little village he comes from (he’s not originally a city boy to me, he became a city boy later in life). His family also owns a small farm and he had big dogs growing up. Had the war never happened he’d probably still be with them, taking over his mom’s shop because he was the one most interested in it (i also headcanon he has a lot of siblings)

Twilight: He needs people to take care of or he won’t take care of himself. He just falls into such a slump if there’s no one for him to look after because he feels useless and unneeded. He’s a serious hoverer when one of the others are injured but he feels bad for hovering so he ends up sitting on the opposite side of camp looking like a wet dog and it’s just so sad looking 😭

Sky: I know a lot of people make him super sleepy or give him asthma because of his low stamina in Skyward Sword and also because he just always seems tired in that game, but for me Sky has epilepsy, and that’s why he has periods of time where he’s just absolutely exhausted

Hyrule: Not afraid of much and has a stomach of steel. This kid will eat anything and everything and will be completely fine. Bonus extra headcanon: I think he’s older than Legend

Legend: I headcanon he’s autistic and struggles to control the tone of his voice, and that’s why he can come off pretty harsh. He doesn’t mean to, he’s seriously pretty chill (unless Warriors is involved), but he can come off as disinterested or snappy when he really doesn’t mean to

Wild: Actually extremely good at handling his emotions and dealing with problems (compared to the others). He knows he gets overwhelmed and while he’s not the best at telling someone where he goes to blow off steam, he knows how to hold himself back and handle himself, and he’s perfectly capable of defending himself if something happens when he goes off alone. Sometimes he just needs to be alone, and if he really CANT be alone because it’s too dangerous, Wolfie will trail after him just for backup and keep his distance

Four: BIG reader, he loves to curl up with a good book but it’s hard for him to get his alone time to focus on what he’s reading while he’s traveling with the others. He will make up stories in his head when he can’t sleep or actually focus, and he’s a really animated story teller. He’s told a lot of campfire stories and when he’s doing those it’s one of the very few times the others actually shut up

Wind: Dyslexic and seriously struggles to read, but he absolutely LOVES to draw and would doodle all the time during any lessons anyone tried to give him ever. Give this kid a sketchbook and he’ll literally draw you a masterpiece. He loves sketching scenery and the others and he’s FREAKY good at it

[happiest-hotch]

3 AM

part one

Summary: Aaron shows up somewhere he shouldn't be with some words for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warning: mutual cheating

You go home to a house that doesn't feel like home, which isn't anything new, but today, it upsets you. Maybe it's too late, and the case drained you too much. Your self-preservation instincts refuse you to consider an outside factor.

Thankfully, your need for sleep trumps any chance of facing an existential crisis, so instead of staring at the ceiling wondering how your life got to this point, you're asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It doesn't last long. Too soon, a knock on your door wakes you, and you reach for your phone to check the time. 2:52- great. If it were BAU-related, Penelope would have called and left messages before pounding on your door in the early morning. You run through who it could be. Maybe your pathetic excuse of a husband lost his keys, but nothing would inspire him to come home unless he learned of your affair and was hypocritically mad. Or it could be much more mundane; police, firefighters, a neighbor. 

Speculation gets too exhausting, so you get up and walk to the front door, checking your gun is sitting on the side table before opening the door.

It's one of the last people you expect. You wrap your robe tighter around yourself, defensive and hyper-aware that he's in jeans and a shirt, and you're in a tank and sleeping shorts. 

"Hotch." You greet him coldly, colder than the chilly DC night air. 

He didn't expect a more positive reaction. "Don't call me that." He says slightly too pathetically. 

"What can I do for you?" You ask, unsure what's compelling you to continue the conversation and not just slam the door in his face.

He shouldn't be here.

He knows it, you know he knows it, and you know it.

"Let me in." The Unit Chief tone, commanding authority, is nowhere to be heard, no matter how hard he tries to muster it up.

You sigh, momentarily weighing the pros and cons before stepping aside. Aaron follows you in carefully. Houses, thus far, have been off limits, like there was some unwritten rule neither of you would show up at the other places, knowing the consequences, but he's here, and you're still not sure why.

As you lead him down the hallway, Aaron keeps his head down, obviously trying to avoid being nosey. It's amusing since the personal pieces he assumes you have and refuses to look at don't exist. You wonder if he's drawing similarities between you and where you live, both beautiful on the outside and empty on the inside.

"Is he-" His question quickly gets reframed. "Are you alone?"

"I was." You answer. "He's in Pierre, South Dakota."

"Our case was in Pierre, Sou- Oh." Unsurprisingly, he put it together quickly. Pierre, South Dakota, is not a big enough place for you not to have run into your husband.

You laugh humorlessly. "I know. It's smart to have an infallible lie, but maybe not that specific." You remark. "He's actually in Miami. I checked the credit card and told him our case was there, so he always has to look over his shoulder."

Aaron doesn't smirk at what you consider a wonderfully devious plan. Instead, he looks concerned. "You still have joint credit cards? Are you keeping any money he can't touch?"

"Surely you didn't come here to discuss my financials." You shoot back, but he raises his eyebrows, and you know you can't progress the conversation without answering his question. "Yes. I've been to a lawyer and an accountant. He's only running himself into massive amounts of debt." You assure him. "Although, I'm not sure when this became your business."

His answer doesn't come quickly, and when he speaks, it's inadequate. "It's not."

"Okay, so what are you doing here?" You prompt. "Because you look like hell, Aaron, and you could really do with some sleep."

"I went home and sat there for an hour just thinking." He tells you. So, he didn't get lucky enough to fall asleep and avoid dreadful spiraling thoughts.

"You want to talk about your feelings?" You ask incredulously, unsure how he conjured the audacity to come here. His lack of answer is an answer. "No." You shake your head firmly. "You don't get to do this. Whatever we are, we don't discuss feelings."

"We could," Aaron begs desperately. It's not hard to profile that he keeps his emotions bottled up until he's bursting, so you know Aaron's here for a different type of release, for you to drain yourself listening to his problems and leave before he can consider that you have feelings.

You could hit him hard enough that he stops talking, and it's tempting.

"I'm okay with running to you when you want to have sex, but I can't be who you run to when you want to talk to someone about your day." You explain it as simple as you possibly can. 

"I don't think of you like that," Aaron assures you, his eyes softening as his words fall short of being stern.

Frustrated, you huff. You're tired and wound up, easily upset, and Aaron shouldn't be here. "Well, I have to think of you like that... or I can't sleep with you and not feel anything."

"You're not hearing me." He argues, a tiny flicker of the fire you saw before appearing in his eyes. "I want you to feel things."

You bit down on your bottom lip to avoid crying. You've become so callous to everything around you, bottled so much of it up that it's difficult to let any emotion show without breaking the floodgate. 

"You don't." You fight back, although it comes off far weaker than you expected. "I'm messy, my whole life is just one disaster after another, and I'll never excite you if we're not sneaking around."

Aaron's hands come to cup your cheeks, surprising you completely. It's a soft touch that has your lips closed in a second. "Don't say that." He instructs, speaking firmly but gently. "You're not a mess, not at all."

"Look at where we are, Aaron!" You remind him, throwing your arm at your side. For a detail-orientated person, he's only focusing on the big picture. "I'm married, you're married, and this is so damn messy."

"I know, I know." He nods. "It's... less than ideal, but we can get through it." He promises, holding you tighter now, like he's worried you'll slip away. "I want to be there for you. I don't care about any mistakes from your past. And please, please don't say that you won't excite me because I will always be excited every time I see you." It's enough to have you in gentle tears, not angry, heavy sobs, and he does his best to wipe them up delicately. "But if you don't feel the same way..." 

Aaron's waiting for your decision, and he isn't about to add more pressure, but he will stand there for as long as you need to decide. 

"I do." You affirm. "God, Aaron, I want to be with you more than anything, but I'm not sure I know how to." Being married is just a technicality now, and a divorce is something you're fiscally ready to do now. 

"Tea." He decides, his permanently furrowed brows relaxing. 

"Tea?" You repeat. 

He moves slightly away from you. "Where's the kitchen?" You're still confused about why now is the right time for tea, so you wait for him to explain. "I'm going to make you tea, and we're going to drink it while you tell me how you're feeling, and then whatever you want- a drive, breakfast, you name it, it's yours."

You pull away from him, offering your hand to take him to the kitchen. "Sleep is what we're doing after this." You tell him. "I don't say it to be mean, but you do look like hell."

"Wait." He stops you before you're in the kitchen, turning to hold your hands in his. "You need to know that I don't care about anything in your distant or soon-to-be past, but it's always going to be my privilege to be part of your future."

Aaron isn't meant to be here, and you aren't either, but wherever you're meant to be, it's with him.

[lauptimist]

Your hair is really soft after you wash it - Percabeth

a/n- this is the first chapter of my fluff one-shots series on ao3. I hope you enjoy it! pls like, comment and reblog. It motivates me so much. Also make sure you send me requests. I've had a few so far but it may take me little while to get them out. I'm hoping chapter 3 of this series will be out soon. :)

Percy didn’t quite know how he got here, lying next to Annabeth on her bed in Cabin 6. You’d think it was romantic, at least, that's what all her brothers and sisters thought when she led him in here with a firm grip on his wrist. But in truth Percy was pretty sure that this was the most uncomfortable experience he had ever had. He was as stiff as a board, not even letting the tip of his finger come within 5 inches of Annabeth in fear that she would kick him out. 

Even still there was no way that he would want to be anywhere else, even just being in her presence made him feel good. 

Percy wasn't sure what it was about her exactly that pulled him in so much but it could have something to do with the fact that he knew that whatever happened, she would always be on his side. And with the subtle hints that she had dropped to him he was pretty sure she felt the same way. Percy had always been someone who wouldn't dream of hurting or betraying his friends, no matter the situation. He knew he had proved that on their quest, with the arch and the golden throne being just a couple of examples. He had also noticed that Annabeth had been distancing herself from other people at camp, at this point Percy was pretty much the only person she spent time with and he was almost certain that it had quite a lot to do with Luke.

Saying that Lukes betrayal had hit Annabeth hard would be an understatement, she had barely left her cabin for the first three days, only emerging for meals and mandatory meetings and she almost always showed up with red rims around her eyes. 

Percy was worried to say the least but he didn’t know how to help her when she was so desperate not to talk to anyone. He might not be the best when it came to emotions (that was more Grover’s forte) but one thing Percy did know was that the worst thing you can do is bottle it up. He knew Annabeth was struggling and he was ready to barge in and force her to talk to him until one day she just showed up at his cabin. He was slightly astounded for a moment and she seemed almost shy which was the last thing he ever expected her to be, but she just asked if she could come in and when Percy finally managed to stutter out a yes she just sat down on one of the empty bunks pulled a book out of her bag and started reading.

Percy was slightly confused for a while before he decided to just carry on with the drawing he’d been doing in his sketchbook. He wasn’t a particularly good artist but he had always enjoyed drawing as it helped him to make sense of the things happening around him. And so it became somewhat of a routine for them. Her reading a book (usually a different one everyday) and him sketching some mythical creature they had encountered (although a lot of his recent sketches had been of the owls he often saw in the woods). Until this lunchtime when Annabeth had come over to his table, ignoring the reprimanding glances she was receiving from Chiron, and asked if he could meet her in her cabin later. 

Being the seaweed brained idiot that she always knew him as, he had not thought to go and get his sketchbook before he went and so now he was just lying there awkwardly as unlike his cabin all of the bunks in the Athena cabin were full and so they had to share Annabeths. Working up the courage he asked her,

“Annabeth, why are we in your cabin instead of mine?”

She turned and looked at him,

“Did I not tell you?” She seemed surprised

“Um-no. Unless I forgot which is very possible and in which case I apologise as-” he was rambling now.

Annabeth simply let out a small laugh that for some reason made his cheeks feel hot,

“It's fine Seaweed Brain, I’m pretty sure I forgot to tell you anyway. I asked Chiron if he had a monster proof TV, which he doesn’t but he did give me this Laptop instead which apparently has something called Disney+ on it. Im not entirely sure what that is but i assumed you would know so…” She stopped talking, noticing the astounded look on his face. 

“O-oh i’m sorry if you don’t want to, it's just that you said we could watch a movie after the quest was over and i thought now would be  good time…”

“No no no, Its amazing Annabeth! I guess i was just surprised you remembered, i mean it was a while ago.” Percy hurried to reassure her.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this since you first mentioned it back in Waterland.” Percy was smiling softly at her, an emotion in his eyes that Annabeth couldn’t recognise.

“Well then Wise Girl, what film do you feel like watching?” Percy’s face lit up in anticipation.

“Oh wait, do you mind if i have a shower before we start? My hair is kinda greasy and I won't have time for one tomorrow.” Annabeth suddenly remembered.

“Of course, don’t be too long though. I might watch something without you.” Annabeth let out a small chuckle at his teasing tone.

“Sure Seaweed Brain, 10 minutes. Max” She tapped his nose on her way to the bathroom, an action that brought a dark flush to Percy’s cheeks that he hoped Annabeth hadn’t seen. 

Annabeth was true to her word and emerged from the bathroom exactly 8 minutes later with her hair half dried with a towel. She took a few seconds to tug a brush through it before joining Percy on the bed again. They were alone in the cabin now, her siblings had gone down to the campfire. Truthfully she hoped they would stay there until the movie they watched was finished, call her selfish but all she had wanted for a good week now was some alone time with Percy to watch a movie. Technically they were breaking the rule of a male and female camper being alone in a cabin together but she figured Chiron wouldn’t mind considering the highly dangerous quest to stop a war that they had just been on.

“I’ll ask you again, what movie do you feel like watching?” Percy brought her back to earth with a smile.

“I don’t know any so i guess we could just watch your favourite.” 

“Yessssss. Okay so my favourite movie is called Finding Nemo and it is the best film in the world. It's about this fish that gets lost and his dad and his friend have to go and find him.” Annabeth smiled as he typed it into the search box, of course such a stupid sounding movie would be his favourite.

1 hour and 40 minutes later Annabeth had officially watched her very first movie and she had thoroughly enjoyed it. Whilst she was right in saying that it was a bit stupid she found herself laughing more than she ever had before, although to be fair most of the things she was laughing at were Percy’s stupid comments. By the end they were both pretty tired and almost falling asleep. Still Annabeth didn’t want him to leave and she was almost certain that a similar thought was running through his mind. 

They stayed like that, in comfortable silence for another half an hour, curled up together, his arm around her shoulder, his hand playing with her hair. Annabeth was embarrassed as her hair was tangled from the way it had dried whilst she was lying down. However it was evident that Percy didn’t care as the next words from his lips were,

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it.”

Looking back Annabeth thought that might be the moment she realised that her little crush might not be so little after all.