#I started thinking it was too yellowy and washed out

[stephantom]

Becket (1964)

- But what will God say if I attack his church? After all, they're His bishops.

- We must manage the church.

[bitchesuntitled]

Paint with Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: You have a crush on the dad of your daughter’s best friend.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and cursing

A/N: @beefrobeefcal issued a prompt and I jumped at the chance. She also helped beta this along with @strang3lov3. As always, I gotta tag @jay-zzle, who once again was kind enough to make a moodboard for this little story of mine, is my main cheerleader and listens to me rant all the time about stories I’ve read and my own 🥰

Masterlist||AO3 Link||Parents to Lovers

“Hello and welcome to those who are new to the class! Go ahead and find a spare seat” The woman at the front, Miss Janice said, “This is a very basic painting class and please parents. Let your kids get messy! Art isn’t clean!”

All the kids cheered and you sighed thinking about the stains you will now have to be washing out from Nora’s clothes. Your ex had decided the white sundress was the perfect outfit for her today. Dropping her off here with no time to go home you just had to cross your fingers hoping that Miss Janice had a spare smock for her.

“Mommy!” Nora said, grabbing your hand and tugging you along to a table, “I see Missy!”

Nora dragged you along to the table where Missy and her father sat. This had become a weekly thing, coming to the paint with me class and sitting with Missy and Frankie.

“Hi Nora!” Missy squealed, “Daddy was starting to worry you guys weren’t coming.”

“Missy,” Frankie hissed, looking at her while you could see his cheeks starting to gain a warmer shade.

“No, Mommy was mad at my dad because of my dress.”

“Nora!” You said, looking at her wide eyed.

“Your dress is very pretty, Nora.” Frankie said, letting out a low chuckle.

“Thank you! Mommy always wants to look pretty for these classes so I wanted to try too!”

You could feel your face getting warm. It wasn’t like you intentionally did it or anything but you couldn’t deny having formed a crush on Frankie within the past few weeks of attending this class. If you wanted to spruce up your looks a little, so what? You just didn’t think your kid would take notice of it. Oh god, has it been obvious? Has Frankie noticed?

“Nora, do you need a smock?” Miss Janice asked, interrupting your thoughts.

“No, I—“

“Yes, she does!” You say, giving Miss Janice a pleading look. Miss Janice smiled and handed one to you to help Nora put it on.

“No one will be able to see my dress!” Nora said, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms across her chest.

“Aw, come on now,” Frankie said, “You don’t want to ruin your pretty dress!”

“Fine,” Nora said, rolling her eyes.

You smiled at him and mouthed a thank you while putting the smock on her. He winked at you with a slight nod of his head. Miss Janice began to show everyone how to paint a rose. Frankie had his brows furrowed, focusing on his paper instead of watching the board like everyone else.

“Daddy!” Missy scolded, “You’re supposed to be painting a rose!”

“Don’t feel like painting a rose.” Frankie stated lowering his voice, “Flowers are boring.”

“Then what are you painting instead?” Nora asked curiously, leaning over to look at his paper.

“It’s a surprise!” Frankie said, hovering his hands over his paper to keep anyone from trying to peek. “Can you hand me that yellowy color?” He asked, nodding his head towards the tube in front of you. Careful of your rose painting you reached for the tube and handed it over.

“Ever heard of goldenrod?” Frankie asked, reading the tube and looking at Missy.

“Been years since I had one of those,” You think out loud. Frankie whipped his head to look at you. “Oh my god!” You say slapping your hand over your mouth.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Frankie eyes you suspiciously while continuing to talk to Missy and Nora. You and your big fucking mouth. Sure, it’s been a while since you got laid but you are in a painting class with your kid, her friend, and her friend’s incredibly attractive dad. Kids being the main focal point. Thankfully they were too into their paintings to hear what you said. You zero in on your own painting of a rose. Gliding the paint brush over and over until you feel like the petal is to your liking.

—

“Alright everyone, time is up for the day!” Miss Janice announces, “We need to start cleaning up. Parents please grab the paint brushes and water cups, kiddos grab the paintings and clip them to the board so we can all see them!”

Nora starts cackling along with Missy looking at Frankie’s painting. Frankie furrows his brows while you both begin gathering up the paint brushes plopping them into the water cup.

“What the heck is that?!” Nora asked, holding her stomach from laughing so hard. You decide to take a look at what was so funny. You’re not sure what it’s supposed to be. It just looks like a yellow peanut with what you think might be wings and some McDonald’s Golden Arches in the background.

“It’s a bird,” Frankie says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh,” You say, nodding your head subtly, “That’s what it’s supposed to be?”

“It looks like a peanut!” Missy said

“It does!” Nora shouted, beginning to laugh even more.

“Yeah, yeah. Go hang the paintings up you goofs” Frankie said, shooing them away.

“Least you tried,” You smile, with a small shrug.

“I guess. Missy’s right though, it does look like a peanut,” He grinned, walking with you over to the now free sink to help clean brushes.

“Hey, you said it— not me,” You laughed.

You dumped the water into the sink, while Frankie grabbed the soap, squirting some in his and your hands. Making small conversation about Nora and Missy, your weeks ahead of you, what you plan to do for the rest of your weekend.

“So,” Frankie started, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “Haven’t had a golden rod in a long time?”

“Oh my god,” You groaned, “Listen, I’m so sorry about that. I swear, I didn't even mean to say it out loud.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I could probably help with–” Frankie said, then began to panic, “I mean, like, if you wanted to go do something sometime, or not that’s cool too, not like I’m saying we should have sex or something cause that’s not cool. I’m sorry it was just a stup–”

“Frankie,” You giggle, grabbing his hand to make him stop. He looked up at you bashfully.

“It’s been a while since I’ve tried asking someone out,” He admitted. “My friends keep giving me shit because I keep talking about you and they said I should try asking you out, but I’ve been too nervous to and wow, I just won’t shut the fuck up. What is wrong with me?!”

“I’d love to,” You say before he can start speaking again.

“Really?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, “Go out? With me? Like a date?”

“Duh,” You said, squeezing his hand and winking, “Is there a golden rod included?”

“Haven’t had any complaints before,” Frankie said with a shrug, blushing.

[lady-of-pain]

Hi

If it's not too much to ask, how did you manage to paint the gold on your Malenia cosplay that well?

With the ER boardgame coming out soon, I've been rather dreading the tree sentinel that comes with it as I often struggle with golds

hi!! ty for the ask! I’m not the greatest at teaching but I can try and explain what I did the best I can! And thank you so much!

I’ll use the helmet as an example. All of the armor is painted this way save for the white parts of the legs.

So I started with a Vallejo airbrush base coat gold.

I then went in and did a little dry brushing with black acrylic/black acrylic diluted with a little water to add some basic shadows. I used a combination of soft brushes and a natural sponge to help blend it out.

Next I sprayed the whole helmet at this point with a matte spray varnish to protect the paint so I could go in with water mixable oil washes in black and brown to make a dark brown grimy color. I did a few passes of the oil wash and let it sit for a few seconds before wiping it away with a paper towel. It mutes the shiny pristine gold really well and adds that extra layer of dimension to the piece, while also helping the shadows to look a little less uniform. In different areas I layered the wash more heavily to get a little more variation.

If you’re painting minis I would recommend an army painter or citadel brand wash for this part rather than water mixable oils, I think it’ll be way easier to control on a smaller scale! But here’s what it looked like after a few wash passes:

Then, I blended the shadows out further with more gold acrylic (mixed with a little black to make a nice darker gold color) using the same dry brushing/sponge method. To get that flecked gold texture over the dark spots, I just used my sponge with just the tiniest amount of paint on it and pressed it gently onto the surface in a couple areas. Again using a natural sponge will yield a better result. It looks like this after it’s all done:

I then added highlights with a lighter/less yellowy gold, but I went REALLY light on them. You really only want to hit the high spots here - for example the crest/point on the top of the helmet, the edges of the wings/wing details, etc. it REALLY helps pull the gold back from all of the shadows and weathering.

After that I sealed the whole thing in matte spray varnish one more time and the helmet was all finished!

Essentially it just involves carefully planning out how to layer your paints. I def recommend doing some tests if you can.

I know painting armor is a lot different than painting minis but I hope I was able to help at all! Good luck with your project, I’m sure it’ll turn out badass!!!

[rhodeys]

✨ COLORING GIFS FOR RAINBOW SETS ✨

hello!! so this ask had just been sitting in my inbox for days, and since i finally got some free time (and an incentive) i thought i’d put together a general coloring tutorial - especially for those who are interested in rainbow sets, or just want to get freaky with their gifs, hehe.

photoshop: cc 2021, but tbh this tutorial is compatible with most versions of photoshop for: beginners / anyone with a basic understanding of adjustment layers and brush tool (optional)

the tutorial will show how you can: (1) enhance colors in a neutral/washed out scene (2) change the overall color of a shot (3) make the colors bolder/stronger (4) convert the dominant color to another color

in other words: i rarely save my psds so this is what we’re stuck with

1. 

usually, when i’m making a color set, the first thing i do is open the hues/saturation layer and pull the saturation to a 100. this gives me a pretty good idea of the colour palette i can work with. and since this shot is more on the dark side, i brightened the gif a bit, and then moved saturation to a 100. this is what i get:

now that i know the dominant colour is yellow, i can drag the saturation back to 0 and start working on the actual coloring! i go to curves, and brighten the gif a little. most of the time, the white and black points (the first and the third inkdropper) does wonders in color correcting your gif. buut, marking the white point of for this gif would remove what little yellow we have, so i just did a manual adjustment until i was happy with the result.  

(since he’s a poc, i used a brush tool at 35% capacity over his face on the curves layer mask. it’s soft, and barely noticeable, but it stopped him from looking lighter, which would become a problem once we move on to the vibrance layers. basically, the lighter the subject, the more susceptible it is to being affected by color enhancing layers.)  

next, i go to the yellow hue/saturation option, and increase yellow saturation to 50. i usually don’t do this much, but the yellows are very very light in this scene, so we’re enhancing the colors wherever we can. i also lowered the intensity of the reds using these settings:

the reason i’m reducing red saturation is because - remember the dominant color on his face was red/yellow? - i don’t want my vibrance layers to end up reddening his skin too much. we already tackled a portion of this when we used the brush tool with curves, but this just ensures that the final product doesn’t have his skin looking too yellowy/funny, hehe. this is my gif after the saturation settings:

honestly, the difference is minimal, but now we have an actual color to work with. now it’s just a matter of enhancing that color. at this point, his skin may also look washed out, but the color will return once we get started with the vibrance/color layers. 

now, i open the vibrance layer, and - this is always dependent on the gif, btw - drag the sliders around until the colors are bolder. this is my gif now:

the yellows are much more evident now, and there’s a bit more color in his face - so yay! at this stage there’s really no need for selective coloring - so i’ll just add a brightness layer and another vibrance layer:

and voila!! mans lookin good

2. 

changing the overall color of the gif is a fairly easy process. i think one thing to look out for is if there are people/a lot of skin that would end up being affected by the coloring – unless there’s minimal movement that you can use a brush tool for. 

loki is more or less a silhouette in this shot, and all i’d need to do would be increase the contrast between him and the fog, and slap on a color. this can be done one of three ways: selective coloring, color balance, and gradient map. i’ll be using selective coloring here because i felt that worked best and it’s also an adjustment layer i’m most comfortable with. 

enhancing the contrast comes first, and since the brightness/contrast layer didn’t work as well as i’d hoped, i opened up the exposure layer and put in these settings:

and i get this:

now that loki is much more prominent against the fog, we can move on to the coloring. since i want it to be pink, i’m gonna open the neutral selective coloring, and use these settings:

just make sure your selective coloring is on “absolute” because it colors your gif independent of the original gif and makes your colors more strong, whereas ‘relative’ colors your gif relative to the original gif – which doesn’t work all that well for color sets. (read: makes it look ugly)

i got the color, but methinks its still a little too dull, so i’ll add a brightness/contrast layer to make the color pop

and done!!

3. 

animation gifs are much more easier to color because the colours are easily isolated, which is just chefs kiss when you use selective coloring. for this one, i just want to enhance the blues / reds, and remove the magenta tone so that the colours are more vivid. first, i increase the contrast:

it’s sharpened the colors a bit, and reduced the dullness:

now, because i want to enhance the blues/reds, and reduce the magenta, i’m going to use these settings in my selective coloring layer: 

i didn’t want to make the red too bright, since red has an annoying tendency to pixelate, and lowered the magentas just enough so that the three of them still have a bit of color on their face. now the blues: 

now that that’s done, all we need is to brighten up the gif. i’ll use curves for this:

i selected my white point (the white inkdropper) from the white part on baymax’s face (which i just realized makes no sense bc his entire face is white) which immediately brightened up the gif and erased the excess magenta. 

if you want, you could still make it brighter by selecting your white point a little towards the shadows in baymax’s face - but methinks this gif looks fine by itself ehehe 

4.

this one will be fairly easy - especially for a shot like this where it’s just blues and black - and will only require selective color and some brightness layers. so, i want to make this a violet gif. the very first thing i’ll do is open up selective coloring and enhance the blues:

idk if this is a thing others do djsajskl i feel like they do, but i do this because i’ve always found it easier to do color convert when the colors are enhanced - so, the more enhanced my blues are, the easier it is to convert to violet. this is what i have now:

now it’s time for violet!!! yee!!!

i increased the magenta in the whites because the highlights in the cloud were looking VERY white, and would end up looking very weird once i increased brightness. so this is just for…. consistency

now we can get on with brightening!! i open up the brightness/contrast layer and use these settings:

and another curves layer, where i’ve intense-ified the dark parts (the grey slider is at input: 27) and lightened the rest (the white slider is at input: 220) 

(i just feel like it makes the coloring look crispy)

and tada!!! 

i hope this helped! i’m still in the learning process when it comes to coloring, but if you have any questions/clarifications, please don’t hesitate to reach out! 

[bradie-valentine]

To Live in a House That is Haunted

By Bradie Valentine

The afternoon sun bakes me through the windshield as I drive towards Leah’s house. She hasn’t answered my texts in a couple of days. Not that unusual for her, even before this silence. And yet I’m still on my way to check on her. We’ve been basically inseparable since we bonded over our family troubles in grade three and this is the longest we haven’t seen each other since then. The quiet from her side of our friendship has gestated long enough.

When I pull up to her house, a wave of unease washes over me. The house looks almost the same as it usually does, but just slightly off. The grass is way too long and I can see a pile of mush near the mailbox, the storms of summer turning her mail into pulp. As I head towards the house, parting the long grass that tickles my legs, I notice the stack of oak she bought a few months ago. The wood is bloated and full of wet rot, another victim of the January showers.

Don’t get me wrong, Leah has always been quiet, reserved. But this is different. Besides the occasional ‘I’m still alive’ text, I’ve barely interacted with her in the past two months. I can’t exactly blame her though. I can understand why she hasn’t been feeling very social. Her husband, Brian, died two months ago; the death of Leah’s voice immediately following.

I was with her that day, the day cops turned up to deliver the news. We were in the lounge room, chatting about Leah’s upcoming carpentry projects when there was a knock at the door. Leah answered it, there was some muffled chatter and then a sorrowful screech, like an animal caught in a trap. I leapt up from the couch just in time to see Leah collapse in on herself. The strong statue of the woman I knew, reduced to a pile of discarded tissues; delicate and tear soaked.

It was a freak accident that killed her Brian. A bump on the head at work. Rushed to the hospital, and he was dead on arrival. We found out later that the knock had popped a massive aneurysm that was nesting between the folds of his brain.

I take a deep breath and rap on the door a couple times but Leah doesn’t answer. I pause for a few seconds, knock, pause again, and knock again. I pull out my phone and text her, a drop of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. The heat and worry working together to slick my skin. I try calling too, but the phone rings out. Usually I wouldn’t bother worrying over Leah, but since Brian, grief has metamorphosed her, leeching both her light and strength. I think I should go, maybe come back later, but then I notice the sound of music. Leonard Cohen’s deep voice emanates from within the house. I try the handle and it’s unlocked, as soon as I open the door I get hit with the foulest stench of my life, even worse than when I used to get paid to wash down animal cages at the local vet. The stench clogs my nostrils and makes my mouth water with pre-vomit saliva.

I call out to Leah and get no response in return. Covering my nose, I start down the hallway, passing picture frames filled with photos of the happy couple. I call out again and I still don’t get a reply. Oh god, I should have come sooner. As I approach the bedroom, I hear a buzzing. I can’t place it for a second, and then I realise, it’s flies, a swarm of flies.

It’s all making sense, her favourite album playing, their wedding anniversary is coming up. The stench of sickly sweet death crowding the hallway. Leah has killed herself and now a horde insects are busy getting comfortable in the rancid warmth of her lifeless corpse.

I brace myself, a few steps and I’ll be able to see the bedroom, the carnage Leah has made of herself. And then I hear a laugh, Leah's laugh. The fear mixes with confusion and I’m so disorientated, I stumble the last couple steps forward and then I see them.

Leah is lying on the bed, holding Brian’s hand. It takes me a second to realise that the swollen form on the bed is indeed Brian. The flies have made their home here a while ago. There is a split in Brian’s belly where the gasses of rot have burst him open. Maggots spill off Brian and wiggle across Leah, like they can’t even tell anymore where the death ends and the living begins.

I turn away and run for the kitchen. My stomach is roiling and lurching. I only make it halfway and end up vomiting on the floor. Bile and this morning's toast exploding from my mouth.

“Hi”

I look at Leah. She’s knobbly and bony where she used to be muscular. There’s a stain down the left side of her night gown. It’s yellowy thickness let’s me know it’s broken down fat that has leached out of Brian and onto her. As if he was trying to offer back some of the bulk that weeks in bed have taken from her.

I’m still gagging when she starts talking.

“I dug him up, after the funeral. I brought a shovel with me.”

“Why?” 

“I was getting ready for the funeral and all I could think about is how he would be so lonely in the ground. You know how much he hated being without me.”

“Leah, this is fucking crazy, you know that right? I love you but holy shit. You need help Leah… you need serious help.”

She just turns away and walks back to the bedroom. 

“Leah, stop! I’m serious.”

She doesn’t listen to me. I follow her down the hallway and watch her climb into bed next to the mass of degrading flesh in a burial suit. 

The liquid of his body has seeped into the mattress and the carpet beneath their bed. No one is ever going to be able to scrub him from the carpet or the floor below. An oily stain has spread up the wall above him, a halo made from his desecration. Brian now has a permanence he never had before. I wonder for a second what will happen to this house after they’re gone. Who would even want it now?

“Go away,” She says.

“Leah please”

She stays silent, just staring at Brian’s empty face.

“This is beyond fucked up, I’m getting you out of here. If… if you don’t come with me, I’ll call the police. They’ll be able to drag you out”

There is another long pause, and I almost think she has forgotten I’m here. She’s so clearly out of it.

“Please… please just let me say goodbye” She finally replies, “I need to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say it last time, please“

She leans in close to the bloat and starts whispering. I feel like I’m watching something I shouldn’t. I head for the front door, for fresh air. As I’m walking through the house, I realise all of the pictures on the wall that used to be of parents and cousins and nieces have been replaced. 

They’re all of Leah with Brian’s body. All taken in the house. In one, Brian is propped up on the couch. Leah is sitting straight, like she’s posing for a portrait. The self timer on her phone capturing a record of her depravity. The photos all vary in poses and states of decomposition. The latest one I find is of them in bed. Brian already shiny and slick, his body bloated and gnarled. Leah has an arm around him and her head on his chest.

The front door is calling to me, fresh air and a reprieve from the incessant vibration of insect life. I reach for the handle when I notice the frame right by the door. The photo is of Leah, Brian and I at their wedding. It was Leah's favourite of the night, the three of us caught in laughter together. I sigh and head for the lounge room instead, climb the couch and slide open the window, pressing my face to the fly screen, breathing deeply the outside air.

The light tap, tap, tap of Leah’s steps announce her presence in the hallway.

“It’s okay now,” she says, “I got to say goodbye. We can put him back and no one has to know. You don’t have to call the police or anything.”

“Leah, you dug up his body, I can’t just pretend like that didn't happen.”

“Please! If anyone finds out, they’ll put me away. I don’t want to be alone. I lost Brian, I can’t lose everyone else as well.”

She’s just standing there in her yellowed nightgown, hands wringing each other. Leah looks so young, so helpless, like she’s in third grade again. Actually, she reminds me more of myself when I was in third grade. Unsure, broken, needing someone to look after me. Leah was the one who took care of me then, she was my person. Now I have to be that for her.

“Alright,” I say, getting up from the couch, “you get the gloves and aprons, I’ll get the rope.”

Standing in the bedroom, decked out in aprons, gloves, and face masks, we stare at the pile of flesh on top of the mattress. Assessing the best course of action, I really stare at Brian. Once a man, a great man at that, he is now somewhere between human and object. Tender and fragile, a bag of rot. Meat, past its use by date. A spoiled egg, one sharp prod and he’ll pop like a runny yolk. We have to be gentle.

Next to the bed, we lay the blue tarp I grabbed from the shed across the floor. Leah climbs up beside Brian, the movement jostles him, shaking the fluid filling his skin, wobbling like an oversized hot water bottle. Bracing myself over the tarp we grab his arms and pull him towards the ground, our fingers sink into his raw sausage meat arms. He slips from our hands a couple inches from the floor, with a wet slap he hits the ground. We rear back, and Leah spews a startled cry. The gash in Brian’s stomach yawns wider and a rush of melted organs spill from his open body; a thick grotesque puff of odour erupting with it. Following closely behind, a swarm of flies and maggots escape his bodily cavity, startled from their reverie.

Shocked still for a moment, we spring to life and scramble out of the room and slam the door shut. Leah slides to the floor, moaning and crying.

“What do we do now?” She asks me.

Dropping to the floor, I gather her gently into my lap. Trying not to think about bits of Brian swill getting all over me, I pat her matted hair.

“We take care of you now, the way you took care of Brian, the way you’ve taken care of me. Whatever that means.”

“Okay,” she says, “okay.”

Once Leah is soundly asleep, I dial triple zero. The operator seems a bit surprised by the situation I describe.

“My friend dug up her husband’s dead body and had been living with it for two months, can you send an ambulance over?”

“Uh, yeah. Right away.”

Once again, Leah and I are startled by a knock at her front door. I’m the one who answers it this time. Leah stands at the end of the hallway, she must look frightening to these strangers. Gaunt and covered in sludge, sticky with the putrid stench of the death that was stewing in that once pristine bedroom. They’re gentle with her, she goes with them willingly. We finally get outside, the freshness of the crisp air disorientating. Leah stops and turns to me.

“I’m sorry for bringing you into this,” she says.

“Anytime,” I say.

We both laugh a little bit.

“Leah?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be okay. Eventually, things will be better.”

“I know,” She says, “will you be okay, without me around?”

I think it’s a joke. Her, also trying to lighten the mood. I answer her seriously anyway.

“Yes, Leah. I think I will.”

[platypanthewriter]

The Prince and the Pauper (Who Drives An Uber) Ch. 5

(Prince Steve flees his wedding, and asks his Uber driver to take him bowling...and on a date.  WIP)  Part One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Billy stumbled into his room, wishing he'd drunk a little less, and flopped onto his bed—then slapped around beside him for where he could hear Steve’s muffled laughter, and found his phone.  “Steve,” he mumbled.

“You sound sleepy,” Steve told him, and Billy growled.  

“My dick isn’t,” he muttered, and Steve laughed again.  “It’s not,” Billy snarled, yanking his jeans open.  “Heard your voice.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said.  “...that happens to me, too.”

“Your dick likes me?” Billy asked, feeling kind of fuzzily like it was a weird question to ask, but Steve sounded like he was smiling when he said “Yeah, Billy, it does.”  

“What about your hands,” Billy asked, sliding his shirt up to his chest.  “They like touching me?”

Steve muttered something that sounded like vlakoss, or vlakas, maybe, and Billy mouthed it to himself, so he’d remember.  “All of me likes you,” Steve said softly, and Billy rolled sideways into his blankets, laughing into his pillow as he flushed.  

“...lemme put you on video,” he whispered, feeling kind of like they were hiding, together in his bed. 

His face warmed further as Steve whispered back, “Show me.”

Billy’s fingers were clumsy, but finally he could see his prince, leaning back on a shiny green overstuffed chair kind of thing, in a soft yellowy robe, his skin lit with warm morning light.  He was smiling, his hair bed-ruffled.  

“...oh,” Billy said, biting his lips together, and hoping Steve couldn’t really see the taco stains on his shirt, or the Thomas the Tank Engine twin-size sheets Max had picked up as a joke at Value Village.  

“Want to turn another light on?” Steve asked, and Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head.  

“You can see more than enough,” he said, grimacing, and Steve frowned.  

“I can barely—”

“Shut up, it’s fine,” Billy sighed, suddenly exhausted.  “Look, I’m—I’m going to bed, actually.  I’ll—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Steve blinked back at him, wide-eyed, and Billy hung up, yanking the pillow over his head with a groan.  

His text alert—it was the treasure chest noise from one of Max’s Zelda games—made its ting ting ting noise, and he lifted the pillow to look.  Sleep well, Steve had sent.  I miss you.  

Billy nearly called him back, staring at the words, and then sat up and yanked his stained t-shirt off.  He flung it into the corner with the other dirty laundry, and then sighed, and stumbled out of bed to gather it all up and stomp downstairs to the laundry room.  When he got there, he had no quarters, and he sat heavily against a washer, wiping his eyes, until the door creaked open, and it was Max, carrying the box of detergent.

“What gives,” she said suspiciously, and he shrugged.

“...just thought I’d do some laundry, y’know,” he said, laughing.  “I’m such a fucking slob.”

“Did he say something,” she bit out, shooting him a glare as she fed quarters into the machine.  

“...he didn’t,” Billy sighed, rolling his shoulders, and frowning around the laundry room.  “Stinks in here.”

“It’s apartment 312,” Max growled.  “She washes and lets it rot.  All the time.”

“Once I have my degree I’ll get us somewhere better,” Billy promised, wincing.  “Once I get a real job.”

“It’s not so bad,” Max told him, grabbing his wrist and hauling him back out.  “Come on, you don’t need to watch, that washer knows what it’s doing.”

“...didn’t look all that smart to me,” Billy told her as she drug him back upstairs, not because he desperately wanted to stick around smelling the sour, heavy funk of rotting laundry, but because Max was handling him again, like she was the adult.  “I bet I’m smarter than that washer.”

“I sure hope so,” Max told him, shoving him inside their apartment.  “You, uh…” she said, glancing up at him, and then frowning, and Billy tried to stop being an asshole.

“I’m fine, Max, play your game,” he told her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.  He opened his mouth to try and argue with her cutting look—proving he was actually not smarter than a washing machine, really—and his texts chimed again.  It was just a red heart emoticon, but Billy’s whole body warmed again at the thought of Steve sitting there for so long, typing and then deleting.  He started to send back a kissy face, and then realized it’d be obvious he wasn’t asleep, and Steve would call, and Billy groaned, mashing his face against his phone.  

“...is he being a dipshit?” Max asked, reaching up to grab his phone, and Billy stuck it in his pocket.  

“Get one out we can both play,” he told her, waving at the Xbox and dropping on the couch.  She grinned, delighted and a little evil, before rummaging around and returning with a selection of five.  They looked like little kid games, he thought, all bright colors, but it wasn’t like he needed to murder zombies, so he decided to let Max cheer him up.  He hummed thoughtfully, and let her lean in and advise—ruffling her hair to make her yell—before sitting elbow-to-elbow with her until nearly midnight, yelling insults at each other and at the screen.  

 Over the next few weeks, his most royal prince-ness kept texting, sending pictures of everything from a frog he found in a downspout licking its own eyeball to pictures of plasticine-covered dead people in a museum exhibit.  There were rows and rows of people posed like they were playing tennis, or crouching, their skin peeled back to show musculature.  

I’m in Germany…said the text, with a picture of Steve posing with a horse whose skin and muscles rippled out like its mane.  “#notaserialkiller” he sent, immediately after.  

tell that to the horse judge, Billy sent back, grinning.

“Who is this guy,” Max asked, leaning her sharp little chin on his shoulder as Billy flipped his phone so she couldn’t see the screen.  He tried to tuck it into his Trig textbook, and it slid out.  “Your Uber fare?”

“He’s, uh, he’s not the kind of guy I usually date,” Billy said, swallowing, and thinking about his last ‘date’ before Steve, who he’d never seen in daylight.  Billy’d awoken—hungover, late to class, on the floor, with his head pillowed on the remains of a half-eaten six-foot Subway sandwich, and a used condom stuck to his thigh—to Max’s unimpressed glower.  He tried to imagine Steve’s clothes on his apartment floor.  A crown on his bedside table.  “He, uh.  He’s a good tipper.”

“That’s a good sign,” Max told him, blowing into his hair as she sighed, her weight against his back, watching the microwave rattle its way through heating her Hot Pocket.  She leaned to flip the phone over—My Prince, it proclaimed.  Three missed calls.

“He’s a nice guy,” Billy told her, trying to grab his phone back.  “He’s too nice, probably.  Calls me his bad idea.”

“If he calls you a bad idea,” she enunciated carefully, through gritted teeth, “—he’s not nice.”

“No, he’s—it’s not—” Billy groaned, then scrambled to try and snatch the phone back from his sister as she hit redial.  “Give it back,” he growled, and she raised her eyebrows, knowing he wouldn’t so much as step towards her angry, since—since they’d written everything down, how much he’d drink, and when, and how often he’d see his therapist, and came up with rules about when he was angry.  “Max,” he hissed, through his teeth, and she smiled her widest fake smile and turned away to talk on the phone.

“Yeah, hey, it’s Billy’s sister,” she said.  “Oh, gee, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no,” Billy muttered, trying to block her in around the table, so he could grab the phone, but she paced away, keeping the table between them.

“Your bad idea has a sister, didja know?  Oh?  Huh.  Yeah, shut the hell up now.  How come you’re giving my brother shit when he calls you his prince, huh?”

It sounded like Steve just said “Uhhhh,” and Max growled just like her brother.  

“You got money?” she asked sweetly, and Billy slid across the table and grabbed for the phone.  She grabbed his little finger and bent it, making him spin in place to face the wall, cursing the self-defense he’d taught her.  “Yeah?  Okay, how come you’re snogging my brother in bowling alley bathrooms?  How come he’s secret, huh?  You in the closet?”

“Max, stop,” Billy hissed, but she’d frozen in place, and dropped Billy’s hand to grab the phone with both of hers.  

“...I don’t know!” she sort of whisper-yelled, and he started laughing.

“What,” she whispered, and Billy started to snicker.  “What are you—what?!”

“Give him back!”  Billy whispered.  “He’s a prince, right?!”

“I don’t know where he wants to go!” she hissed into the phone, waving Billy off.  “But you should ask him!”

“Give him back,” Billy begged.  “Max!”

“Fine!” she yelled, slapping the phone into Billy’s hand.  

He could hear Steve laughing.  Billy took a relieved breath, and held it to his ear.  “Glad you’re still there.”

“Your sister loves you so much,” Steve told him, and Billy glared after her.

“Loves making fun of me, maybe—”

“She’s right, no, she’s right, pick somewhere you’d like to go, okay?  I should take you someplace nice.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Billy told him, with a snort.  “I seriously don’t care.”

“No, no, look, I found this restaurant, it’s like.  There are knights.  They fight each other.  On horses.  We could bring her?”

“...what,” Billy mumbled, blinking.

“It’s, um, it’s a medieval...kind of thing.  Would she like it?”

“Death-match dining?  Fuck yeah.”

“Okay,” Steve took a slow breath.  “Okay.”

“...why you so worried, Prince Harrington?” Billy laughed.  “You want my little sister to like a restaurant, Mister Royal?  My Stevie Wonder?” Billy asked, feeling over-warm again, even next to the air conditioner.

“What?!” Steve laughed.  “She’s important to you,” he said, sounding a litle confused, and Billy started laughing, not even because anything was funny, just his stupid feelings leaking out everywhere.  

“Okay,” he whispered.  “Okay, yeah.”

“I, uh,” Steve said, and cleared his throat.  “Um.  So.  Nancy and Barb are having their honeymoon later, next—next year, they wanted to know if, uh.  Uh, um.”

“Want me to suggest words?” Billy laughed.  “I can just say words, tell me when I hit the right one.  ‘Chickadee’ is a word, is that any help?”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Steve said, but it sounded like he was smiling.  “Darn you.  They wanted to know if we want to...drive and meet them.  Road trip.  Thought I’d be your Uber fare again.”

“...you...what?” Billy mumbled.  “You want me to…”

“We can fix it so you don’t miss too much class,” Steve wheedled.  “They just need to know your schedule.  Max could come.”  There was a pause, and then he talked really fast, all in one breath.  “Lot of Uber fare, there.  I mean, if you’re—if you’re afraid of missing work.  You don’t have to come though, it’s okay—”

“No, I—” Billy swallowed, dry-mouthed, imagining—how long?!  At least a week?!  Of sharing hotel rooms with his prince.  “I—yes.  Yeah.  I wanna go, yeah—”

“Hey,” Steve said, and stopped, and Billy shut his eyes.

“—if you want me to,” he said quickly, wiping his suddenly-sweaty hand on his jeans.  “—if you’re not just—you don’t have to—” he tried to take a silent deep breath.  “Don’t have to see me if you don’t want to—”

“Babe, babe, no,” Steve told him.  “Come on, take a breath, okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, and did, holding his phone with both hands so it wouldn’t shake.

“Billy Hargrove,” Steve said, “—you know you’re not a bad idea, right?”

“I’m your bad idea,” Billy told him, laughing, and wiping his nose.  

“No, no, no—no, I didn’t—I never meant—you’re a good idea.  Billy.  You’re such a good idea.”

“Bullshit,” Billy whispered, laughing.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, and the phone went kind of staticky, like he took it away from his ear.  Billy could hear his voice speaking...some language.  He’d have to see whether they offered Greek or Danish classes at the college, he thought, listening.  When Steve’s voice came back, he was still mumbling in definitely-not-English.

“Need to call me back?” Billy asked.

“What?!  No!  I need to—I just didn’t—augh,” Steve groaned.  “Look.  Puttemus.  You are a good idea.  Leaving my wedding to go bowling without calling anyone was a bad idea.  Taking a stranger to my hotel for sex was a bad idea.  I—ag—argh, Billy.  I did—I did that because I was upset, and—”

“Are you...swearing at me?” Billy asked, fascinated.  

Steve’s end of the call went staticy again, and Billy heard him roar—kind of pathetically, like a baby predator at the zoo.  “No!  You aren’t listening!”

“Oh, I’m listening,” Billy told him.  

“I’m so glad I met you,” Steve said hurriedly.  “Not someone, you.  I’m so—thank you for being there.  You made me feel better, I—” he started mumbling again, incomprehensibly, and Billy listened, smiling.  

“Need to learn more languages, don’t I?”

“...how will I mutter about how stupid I am if you can hear me,” Steve huffed.  “I’ll have to make up words.”

“...speak English,” Billy told him.  “I can’t tell you if you’re being a dumbass right now if I don’t understand.”

Steve took a deep breath.  “I—I think about you all the time.  Not just—not just you naked, I—I want to take you on a boat.  I want to watch you out on the water, let you relax.  In—in the sun.  I want—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath.  “—I want you with me.  I want you here, I know that isn’t—possible always, but I want that—”

Billy was doing his breathing exercises, holding it in for a few seconds, letting it out, not because he felt bad, but he was feeling a lot.

“I’m yours,” he laughed.  “I-I mean, as much as you want me.  I need to be here for Max, but…”

Steve groaned.  “I want to see you.  Damn it.”

Billy trotted to his room, and hit video call as he dropped to lie back across his bed.  “Hey,” he whispered as Steve answered, frowning intently at his phone in a flurry of feedback noises.  

The tall white arches around him blurred as he walked quickly down a hall, then sat against the wall under some huge portrait with a gold frame.  He sighed.  “No, this is worse, look at you.”

“I can’t see my own face, my eyeballs don’t work like that,” Billy said, licking his lips—he could try to be sexy, he thought, running his fingers slowly down his face to try and look seductive while checking for mustard—and Steve leaned out of frame, muttering in a language Billy didn’t understand.

“I want to see you, not just...see you,” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Well, I can’t fly to Europe,” Billy told him, “—so this is what you get.”

“I can’t kiss you like this,” Steve huffed, and Billy laughed, punching the pillow up behind his head.

“I could put on a show,” he offered.  “Probably nothing that great—”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, then bit his lips, and frowned away.  “Uh.  Do—do you want to?”

“I got a couple hours,” Billy told him, trying not to squirm as his dick woke up in his jeans, and started feeling squished.  “You wanna watch me get off?”

“So much,” Steve groaned.  “Um, just a second, okay, I—I gotta make something up, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Steve—” Billy shouted, but the line was dead, and Billy had the sinking suspicion he always got with Steve Harrington, that Billy’s overeager dick was causing a war someplace.

The phone rang again, and Billy answered with “Don’t bail on your job just because I’m horny, christ—”

Steve laughed, his face lit mostly by the phone.  “Lynn’s covering for me,” he said, as Billy squinted.

“Are...are you in a storage closet, or something?”

“No, I am not in the closet, I told public relations about you, and they’re figuring out what to say,” Steve said cheerfully, as Billy stared at him.

“...what...what did you tell them,” he whispered.

“I told them I had a boyfriend, and they should be prepared for somebody taking pictures, or something,” Steve said.  “Why?  

The idea of being the boyfriend was new to Billy, and he stared back.  “...you tell people about me?” he asked softly, and Steve bit back a weird little spluttered laugh, grinning at him.  

“I tell everyone about you,” he whispered.  “I pick up my phone and everyone laughs and rolls their eyes, because I’m checking how long until I can call you, and if you’ve sent a text, everything stops until I send you hearts back.”

Billy, who’d been feeling a little dismissed when he’d ask a question, get a string of hearts, and no answer for five hours, groaned, smacking his hand over his face.  “Kinda thought you were telling me to fuck off,” he mumbled into his hand.

“Wha—no, I—why?!” Steve yelped, waving his hands, one of which contained his phone, so everything whirled.  

“You didn’t actually answer, I dunno, I just—”

“I can answer faster!  I’ll answer faster,” Steve told him, grimacing.  “I’m sorry—”

“No!”  Billy laughed.  “No, now I know what the hearts mean, I mean—you’re just busy.”

“I’m busy and I l-like you,” Steve told him, a little clumsy over his words, for somebody who probably had a speech coach.  “And I wish I wasn’t busy.  But I’m checking my phone, because if you need me I’m not busy, not for you, I just don’t know whether—”

“Relax, your highness,” Billy told him, grinning.  “It’s cute.”

“I’m never ignoring you, you’re too distracting,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed, and Billy laughed.

“You still wanna see me strip down?” he asked, cocking his head against the pillow, and Steve laughed.  

“More than almost anything, I just wish I could touch—” 

“Mmmm,” Billy said, taking the zipper of his hoodie between two fingers, and dragging it slowly down his body, his hand flat.  “Maybe you better hurry back and do that, then.”

“God, I wish I could,” Steve whispered, as Billy reached back up to slowly pull one side of his open sweatshirt off his chest, revealing his grotty t-shirt, washed until it was the greyish color all t-shirts eventually ended up.  “...you look so soft,” Steve whispered.  “Is that t-shirt as soft as it looks?”

“...what,” Billy said, having frozen at the word soft, because he’d been drinking less beer, and he’d thought he’d prevented his developing beer gut, but then Steve looked at his stomach—“My...t-shirt?”

“Your t-shirt,” Steve breathed, “—and your hoodie.  You look so soft, I want to squeeze you.”

“Soft,” Billy repeated, unimpressed.  “Soft?!”

“Oh, he thinks he’s hard,” Steve laughed.  “Only your dick, babe.”

“The man who was that disappointed he couldn’t get a buffalo wings plushie does not get to lecture me about being soft—” Billy told him, growling, but Steve laughed.

“I just wanted a souvenir.  I kept a coaster.”

“...you what,” Billy muttered, disbelieving.

“I kept a coaster,” Steve said cheerfully.  “From our first date.  At the bowling alley.”

“You what...took it back home with you?” Billy asked, sneering a little, but he could feel how wide his eyes were.  

“If I can’t drink my Billy, I’ll at least—” Steve began, slyly, but Billy started laughing so hard he stopped.  

“If you’re so thirsty, how come you’re telling me I’m soft instead of seeing the evidence otherwise,” Billy asked, still snickering.  He held the phone out to show the lump of his dick in his jeans.

Steve shut up quite respectfully after that, and Billy got to finally tease him with the slow zipper reveal.  “Put your hands everywhere,” Steve whispered.  “Pretend they’re mine.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Billy told him, waggling his fingers.  “Where d’you want to touch me...your highness?”

“...everywhere,” Steve said again, his brain taking a second to catch up, and then, “Oh, ah, touch—push your jeans down, I can’t see.”

Billy snorted softly, thinking maybe he needed to try and get...something sexier, to have on already, when this kind of thing happened.  He couldn’t always be wearing stained, stretched-out cotton.  He sat the phone aside—Steve yelped—and shimmied out of his old saggy jeans, and then grimaced down at the holes along the elastic waistband of his briefs, and yanked those off too.  The threadbare t-shirt went next, he pulled it off over his head, and then ran his fingers through his hair, wishing cologne worked through the phone, or that he’d shaved.  “Prince tames wild jungle beast,” he muttered, glaring into the mirror over his dresser in the dim light.  “—suspected to be time traveling caveman.”

“Billy?!” came Steve’s voice, laughing, and Billy groaned, scooping it up, and dropping back to lie on the bed.  

“Should I get like a...g-string, or something,” Billy blurted out, angling the phone so Steve could see his hard dick, which was looking stellar, he thought, surrounded by the red marks from his jeans, on a body that hadn’t gone tanning in recorded history.  

Steve bit back a laugh.  “A  what?” he asked.

“You know, those stripper wedgies,” Billy said, frowning.  “Instead of my stretched-out gray cotton undies…”

“Are they comfortable?” Steve kind of wheezed, and Billy rolled his eyes.  

“I feel like I need to up my game, what with all your...everything,” he said, waving at his prince’s gleaming medals.  “Look, my dick’s sprung a leak,” he growled, pointing at it smearing pre-come over his belly, and feeling his face flush as Steve made a weird swallowed moaning noise.  

“I’m honored,” Steve said, in a strangled voice, and Billy couldn’t help it, he started cackling.  “Billy,” Steve said, softly, and Billy’s dick bounced.  Billy smacked his hand down over it, blushing hotter.  “...you don’t need a G-strip,” Steve said, and Billy laughed harder.  “Billy,” Steve whispered again, and Billy’s cock jerked again, and Billy curled onto his side he was laughing so hard.  “Billy,” Steve groaned, but he was laughing too.  “I love your clothes,” he said, and Billy tried to shut up and listen, shaking with snickers, and wiping his eyes.  “You feel good.  My clothes are scratchy—”

“Your clothes are fucking silk,” Billy told him, grinning.  “Don’t try and tell me you’re always in that stupid uniform, highness.”

“Every time I see you in your soft shirts I want to hold you,” Steve breathed, and Billy swallowed back a soft grunt at the thought of the crown prince of anywhere wanting to put hands on him.  “I want to slide my hands up underneath.”

“Now you’re talking,” Billy said, grinning, rubbing his thumb over the wetness at the tip of his dick.  

“I can’t touch you from here,” Steve said, softly, and Billy sighed, then, reluctantly, took his hand off his cock, and scraped his fingernails down his chest, and up his abs.  Steve sounded like he choked.  

His big brown eyes looked deeper in the shadowy light of the storage closet, and Billy watched him stare, licking his lips.  Billy rolled back onto his back, smoothing the flat of his hand up his thigh, and over his belly to grip himself on the ribs in a one-armed hug, and Steve made a soft noise in his throat.  “Cristos,” he muttered.  

“You’re so easy,” Billy laughed.  

“Only for you, malaka,” Steve laughed, and he sounded so fond Billy flushed hot, staring at his face, and repeating the word in his head, wondering what he’d just been called.  “...with only the light from your mobile, it looks like candlelight.”

Billy laughed, feeling a little gooey, like one of those chocolate cakes that were melted inside.  He tried not to squirm, panting as Steve’s eyes narrowed.  “Yeah, sure, blue candlelight—”

“I wish I could kiss you,” Steve said softly.  “Lean over you, slide my hand down to thumb over your cock.”

“Jesus,” Billy panted, gripping himself as instructed, his dick hard as a rock in his hands.  

“If I was actually there I’d put my mouth over it,” Steve huffed, and Billy groaned, licking his hand so he could jack himself.  His feet started to cramp, he was clenching them so hard, trying not to just jizz all over himself at the sound of his prince’s voice, and he shifted, trying to take deep breaths.  “Suck you down,” Steve whispered.

Billy came over his fingers, panting, and Steve sighed.  

“...I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.  “Sorry I had to leave, I mean, I’d...I’d just met you, and—thanks for waiting for me, Billy.”

“...there’s not really a long line of people beating down my door,” Billy mumbled, curling up, and pulling the blanket over himself as the breeze from the fan over his sweat made him shiver.

“Thank you for waiting,” Steve said again, softly.  “I want to kiss you as soon as I can.”

 Two months later, Billy was paying bills, while Max hovered around saying things like “I don’t really have to go on school trips, they can’t make me,” and “These sneakers are fine.”  When he was done, there was just enough money to pay rent, the water bill, and send Max on the trip with some food money, and Billy folded forward on the table, dropping his face with a thud among the envelopes.  His heart was pounding.  “...maybe some new shoes next time,” he mumbled, and Max kicked his chair.  

“These are fine,” she said stoutly, and he eyed the frayed, greying converses where they sat next to the duct tape.  She’d started just wrapping the whole shoe every couple of weeks, and they smelled horrible in the summer heat.  “It’s so hot the tape kinda sticks to the sidewalks,” she said, like that wasn’t depressing, and then, “—and I know they’ve got no traction now, so I’m more careful on the stairs,” which was worse.

“...yeah,” he sighed.  

“...this prince of yours,” she said, and he smiled automatically.

“Yeah?”

“...you trust him, right?”

Billy opened his eyes, frowning at her, and she shrugged, biting her lips.  “...yeah, I trust him,” he said, feeling his stomach twist a little—he trusted Steve to act like Steve, but Billy couldn’t help wondering at what point his life would wear Steve to the end of his patience.  “What d’you mean, Max?”

She stared back for a long moment, then bit her lips.  “...nothing.”

“Why are you asking?” Billy asked, trying to think of what she could have seen, passing through while he and Steve played League of Legends.  

“Nothing, moron, shut up, he’s so into you, stop freaking out.”

“O-okay,” he said, burying his face in his arms to hide his grin.  

“God, stop,” she sighed, but she was gentle as she punched his shoulder on the way by. 

My other Harringrove stuff

[vannahfanfics]

Once There Were Dragons

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid

Hey, guys! I wrote this up for an upcoming HTTYD zine application, but I thought you guys might want to see it too! Hope you enjoy :) 

The wind breezed over the cliffside, ruffling the emerald green carpet of grass. The wildflowers bobbed in the steady gale; as they writhed, the wind plucked away their loose petals to whisk them away into the wild blue yonder. As the soft little buds floated past Hiccup’s nose, he inhaled deep, flooding his nose with the honey-sweet scent of the pollen, dew, and earth lingering on their surfaces. Hiccup relished the aroma- the aroma of the wilderness. 

A heavy sigh fell past his lips as he eased himself into a sitting position. He was only twenty-two, but the cares of an entire village weighed heavy on a man. It felt like the toil and stress oozed down into his bones, gunking up his joints like oil and making them stiff and uncooperative. He rubbed at the scruffy hairs at the base of his neck. Despite the dull aching of his much too young body, he smiled wanly as the breeze tickled the little braids Astrid had tied into his wiry brown hair. Out in the cliffsides, staring into the great unknown, Hiccup could physically feel his worries and cares melting away. 

“Ahhh,” he exhaled contentedly and leaned back on his hands. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and the sole of his boot and metal foot hung barely over the edge of the bluff. The grass blades playfully brushed the leathers of his pants and his iron greaves, and the dandelions nearby deposited their fluffy seeds on his clothes. Beyond the cliffside, the ocean stretched on forever in endless glimmering sapphire. Above the horizon line, the pale blue sky expanded into the atmosphere; wispy white clouds blotted the vastness in long, thin sheets. Beyond the fluffy barrier, the sun tried its best to shine, pushing its warm yellow rays through the cottony surfaces to alight the earth. Hiccup smiled as he felt the streams wash over him, filling him with pleasant warmth. 

It wasn’t enough. Hiccup longed for more. Hiccup yearned for elder days, when he’d coasted among the clouds with water vapor exploding on his face as he dove down into them. He craved the heat of the burning sun, stretching his arms wide like Icarus to bask in the full brilliance of the bright rays as he climbed closer and closer to the bubbling yellow-white disc. He ached for the sensation of salt spray peppering his cheeks as he danced over thrashing waves and writhing white sea foam. He hungered for the touch of the wilds and the spirit of the unknown-

because once there were dragons, and Hiccup missed them terribly. 

With a forlorn sigh, he flopped back into the carpet of green. Pollen spores and flower petals clouded the air in yellowy bursts with his movement to coast on the breeze. In the hazy wisps, Hiccup imagined the lumpy winged forms of dragons gliding on trade winds. They flapped their wings and occasionally dove down with gleeful growls. His lips curled upward in a wistful smile, and on reflex, he reached out. The pollen scattered at his touch, and the visions of the reptiles dissolved into nothingness. They existed only in his memory, not unlike his present reality. 

He groaned angrily and flopped his arm back against the ground- the ground which held him prisoner. No matter how much that Hiccup longed to fly, he no longer had wings to bear him. A few bitter tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he gazed agonizedly up at the endless blue. 

“I miss you, bud,” he whispered to the wind. The breeze grasped the words and carried them away, bearing them across the wide, wide sea. Could Toothless hear them, he wondered? Hiccup liked to think so. He wondered if his best friend was perched on the slick rocks ringing the entrance to the Hidden World, contemplating the same sky and same sorrows. Hiccup closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the air swirling over his limbs and face. Momentarily, he could envision that he was astride Toothless’ broad, saddled back and sailing across the clouds. His heart ached, because a phantasm fell so, so short of the real thing. 

As Hiccup opened his eyes halfway to stare miserably at the world from which he was forever barred, the gentle shuffling of footsteps caught his attention. His eyes widened as he rolled his head to the side to see his very pregnant wife huffing and puffing as she tried to scale the steep path to the clifftop. Crying out, Hiccup rolled onto his belly and scrambling halfway through the grass on all fours before he managed to jump up and run to her. 

“Astrid! You shouldn’t exert yourself!” he scolded worryingly when he reached her. He immediately grabbed her elbow to steady her as her swollen body wobbled precariously. She used her free hand to sweep the straggling strands of her blonde bangs from her eyes and flashed him a gracious smile. 

“Thanks, honey,” she chirped and leaned in to peck him lightly on the cheek. They’d been together for years now, but even still, a bashful blush rose to paint Hiccup’s cheeks pink. With gentle nudges, he guided Astrid the rest of the way up the crudely carved steps until they reached the flat grasses of the clifftop. Astrid sighed contentedly and sunk in the center of the ridge to catch her breath. Hiccup squatted down beside her, lovingly combing his fingers through her pale blonde hair. “So, what’s on your mind?” 

Hiccup narrowed his eyes and flashed her a sardonic grin. 

“What makes you think anything is on my mind?” Astrid giggled as she tucked her legs under herself, leaning back at an angle so that her protruding belly didn’t unbalance her. With a crooning hum, she reached up to quickly tie a new braid into the threads of his long hair. As her fingertips glided through the wiry strands, she quipped matter-of-factly, “You only ever come up here when you have something on your mind.” Hiccup smiled wanly, caught red-handed, and flopped down beside her. 

“Ah, you caught me, you caught me,” he admitted with a small chuckle. Squinting, he cast his gaze back to the heavens. “When it all gets too much… I come up here and think about how things used to be.” Astrid hummed knowingly and began rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. “It’s not that I regret what happened… It was what was best for all of us…” He sighed forlornly, imagining Toothless’ silhouette circling the fluffy cloud directly above them. “But, I still miss him, and I still miss being up there.” 

“I know,” Astrid cooed. She cuddled into him and nestled her head into the crook of his neck; Hiccup responded by resting his cheek against her scalp. “I know.” She reached out to link their hands and entwine their fingers, gripping him tight in reassurance. Her body was tense, and for a second, Hiccup began to feel guilty. 

“Astrid, I’m sorry. I probably sound so ungrateful-”

“No,” she interjected. Her free hand snapped up to cup his cheek, thumb lovingly tracing over the stubble beginning to line his jawline. “Don’t ever think that. I know that there’s a hole in your heart that I can never fill, and I don’t resent that,” she told him firmly. She smiled lovingly and pressed a lingering kiss to the joint of his jaw. “I know that you’ll miss him forever, and that’s okay.” She caressed his cheek with endearing touches as she squeezed his hand tightly again. “Every once in a while, it’s all right to let your head wander up into the clouds.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, for his mind had already drifted heavenward once more. He relived it for a while, the time where there were dragons, before he finally fell back down to earth. Astrid was now reclined against him, snoozing peacefully in the warm summer afternoon. Smiling, Hiccup pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed the belly swollen with their first child. She exhaled with a hum, and fluttered her eyes open to peer sleepily at him. “What’s on your mind now?” she asked blearily as she stretched against him. Hiccup chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Oh, you know, just how amazing I am and whatnot,” he started sarcastically, making Astrid giggle and slap him playfully in the cheek. Hiccup snickered and buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent like honeysuckle and fresh bread. “Kidding… I was thinking of how amazing you are,” he corrected. “You’re always here waiting for me when I come down from the sky,” he purred lovingly. Astrid laughed mirthfully and nuzzled further into him. 

“Of course, love. Always.” 

Hiccup wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close. He looked over the cliffside and out into the wide sea. Somewhere beyond the horizon, dragons roamed, free forever from pain and torment to flit playfully through white cotton-candy clouds and splashing waves. Once there were dragons in Hiccup’s world, but they were no longer there to carry him across the wind and into the sky. But, that was okay, because Hiccup had plenty there for him on the ground, too.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

[goodnightallwhites]

Ms Croft by Zenalite

Lara hid in the cover of the bushes. She trembled with anger as she watched the rebels pulling up and getting out to inspect the downed plane. She had finished all her business and already took off with the rest of the crew when the missile hit the plane and blew the back to smithereens. Thankfully, the pilot still managed to land them safely. But most of the crew had been left behind, too wounded to be transported. "Ms Croft!" Except Jeremiah. "What?" snapped Lara. Somehow, out of all the people that could've come out unharmed, it was only the wimpy languages expert that made it. He was stringy and as pale as curdled milk, and dressed in a kaki outfit that was better suited for a parody of adventure movies than a job in Africa. Wort of all, he kept trying to flirt with her the time they were here. At first Lara tried to let him down gently, but he soon began to get on his nerves. Didn't they know that a girl like her had no interest in tiny white dicks? "Ms Croft, they're going to kill them..." To her horror, the rebels had brought out the crew and began to shout at them while pointing the AKs in their dazed faces. Eventually, one of the rebels came out grinning and showed the others the prized artifact. It only took months of research, two weeks in the festering heat, and two days of trekking through crumbling ruins to get it. Now they swooped in and took it in five minutes. Brilliant. But even as the artifact went into the truck, they lined up all the surviving men from the crew and executed them. Lara stared, gaping with horror. For Christ's sake... The very reason she had left the artifact behind was to ensure the survival of the crew. To give them no reason to start trouble. And now... The rebels picked up the screaming and moaning women from the crew and threw them over their shoulders, taking them as spoils along with the artifact. Lara looked around for anything she could use to go out there and rescue them... but there was nothing. Not even a knife. She wept with rage as she saw the pure evil that befell them all, in spite of her efforts. Those bloody animals. "Ms Croft..." Lara whirled around and grabbed Jeremiah by the collar and shook him. "WHAT!" she screamed in his face, a sputter of her spit landing all over his weakling face. "They're d-d-dead..." "I'm aware, you good-for-nothing imbecile." "How are we going to get out?" "Get out?" Lara laughed grimly. "We're going to kill every single last one of those bastards." "But--" "You speak the tongue of a few of the tribes around here, don't you? Then you'll be useful. Maybe they can lend us a hand." But as she made to go, Jeremiah stood motionless. "Are you coming?" "I d-d-don't want to..." Lara sighed and crossed her arms. She locked eyes with him and held his gaze until he lowered his. "What do you want?" "I came all this way to meet you and... I hoped you would like me as much as I like you. I'm a great admirer and... I think we'd make a great team!" he cried with enthusiasm. Here he was, struggling to present his feelings on a plate before her. But Lara found the taste disgusting. It might've been charming, if he weren't such a bloody nitwit, and if he weren't a grown adult that behaved like a child. Not that I would date a white guy ever again. "Well, I don't think so, and I feel I've made my antipathy towards you clear. So, what do you want?" He swallowed audibly, as if struggling to get his Adam's apple down. His eyes bulged behind the glasses as he struggled to speak. "I want a... a kiss." "A kiss, is it?" Lara strolled over to him, swaying her child-bearing hips. For the flight home, she had only put on a pair of jean shorts that left the bottom of her round and shapely bums hanging out. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she raised her leg and sent her knee right into his stomach. As he fell to the ground in groaning pain, she said, "Enjoy your kiss." They had no food and no water. While Lara could be resourceful in most situations, there wasn't much to be done in the middle of the savannah. They ended up encamping without fire for the night, hoping they wouldn't be mauled by anything while they slept. Lara attempted to sleep, painfully aware of the way Jeremiah watched her every movement. What a bloody nuisance. She turned on her back and looked up at the bright stars, feeling the breeze move across her skin and rippling across the blades of grass. As dreadful as the day had been she really wanted to get fucked right now. Or perhaps it was exactly because it had been so bad. The grass passed over her skin and sent tingles all the way up to her pussy. Lara spread her legs instinctively and let her hand come down to rest over her aching pussy. What I wouldn't give for a big black cock right now. It was, after all, one of the main benefits of being in Africa. Every guy from the hotel clerk to the cab driver had a stunning body with a throbbing cock. A white girl's paradise. Yet as she gazed up at the Milky Way, thinking about all the black cock she'd be getting once she finished retrieving the artifact, Jeremiah's disgusting pale face hovered into view. "Ms Croft?" Lara sighed. "What do you want, cretin?" "I've been thinking about it, and I really think we should turn back. This place where we are is bad. When I worked with the Red Cross to help the other tribes, they always spoke of how the people from this area weren't like the others. They're dangerous - they prey on other tribes and even cannibalize foreigners." She turned to her side, unwilling to look at his pasty face even longer. Out of all the people that could've made it... "Ms Croft..." "Yes!" she yelled. She rose into a sitting position with rage. Though she had the height disadvantage and only made it up to his crotch, Jeremiah squirmed as if a god off of Olympus had castigated him. "What do you want from me, you vile worm? Can't I get some rest? Stop being so worried and let me get some sleep. If anyone can protect us, it definitely won't be you. So begone! Begone from me!" Lara closed her eyes, hoping she would open them to find herself alone. But she didn't even have the chance to finish her experiment, because she immediately heard him go, "Ms Croft." He's making me hate my own name. As she sat face to face with his crotch, she wondered out of curiosity just what he could possibly keep inside there. There were the occasional weirdos that had a massive cock but still behaved as if they were beta losers. Still... hoping to get a white guy with an even decent dick was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Except that my haystock's gone up in flames and I've only got a melted down drop of a needle. "Take your pants off," she ordered. "W-W-What?" His soft, breaking voice could barely make itself heard. "I said take them off, you useless boy. Let me see what you're carrying." "But--" "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Lara grabbed onto his safari shorts and sought to unbutton them. Jeremiah struggled... rather ineffectively. He ended up going down. Lara jumped on top of him and paralyzed him with a knee to the stomach, then finished lowering his shorts and trunks. At first, Lara felt horrible. All she could see were the pale thighs and the yellowy pubes, and she genuinely thought Jeremiah might've been a girl all along, perhaps a trans going by a male identity?... But as her eyes stayed down, she could finally see the tiny worm of a cock dangling there, too small to even come out of the pubes properly. Disgusting, concluded Lara, tearing her gaze away. This is what you get for putting hopes up in white guys. "Ms Croft!" "What?" snapped Lara. "Please... Help me..." "God, no." "Ms Croft. I have a feeling I won't make it out alive out of all this. And I... You're the only thing I've ever loved. I trained in this and got this job only in the hopes of getting to meet you..." In the end, he wore her down. Not because she felt bad for him or pitied him in any way, but because she needed him to shut the hell up so she could get some sleep. Lara sat beside him and brought her hand down to his pinky dick. She cupped it along with the barely existing balls and gave it a squeeze, then took the clitty-sized head and rubbed it between her fingertips. Ugh, could this be even more appaling? Jeremiah moaned and, within seconds, he had come and gone so soft for his pinky dick to disappear completely. Lara couldn't imagine how anyone could be so much of a loser. Though, in truth, what could he do? What could that little thing ever hope to accomplish? Lara felt thankful that more and more of them were going north into Europe, ready to satisfy the needs of white girls like her. Lara pulled away and got down to sleep again, this time passing out before he could say anything and ruin her slumber. In the morning, she found Jeremiah where she had left him, looking almost dead. Had a three-second handjob really done him in? How pathetic. Since he was asleep, Lara took the opportunity to wash herself. She went over to the nearby creek and divested herself of her sweaty clothes, then stepped inside, letting the warm waters rush past her toned body. She ran her soft palms over every inch of her tanned skinned, letting them linger as she caressed the tender lips of her pussy and massaged her hefty and perky chest. Ever since she had fantasized about black cock the night before, her nipples remained permanently erect and made her quiver from the simplest touch. Soon, she told herself. Soon… She dipped into the water a few times, and when she came out she saw Jeremiah standing in the grass by the riverbank. “Go away!” But the pale, lanky loser made no move, nor did he reply. He only stared at her. Ahhh, what a nightmare he is! Lara decided that she would stab him as soon as she came out. Just grab that little dick and rip it off. But as she wallowed out of the creek, she could see that Jeremiah trembled. Lara stood before him, her tight body glistening in the morning sun, the beads of water rolling across the curves of her breasts and the hard muscles of her stomach. He’s not alone, she realized. Before Lara could make a move, Jeremiah stumbled forwards screaming and toppled them both, his stinky body falling on top her. Lara had twisted her arm in an attempt to brace herself and cringed with pain. Idiot! Now, a black warrior appeared above them, pointing a spear less than an inch from Lara’s face. His completely ripped body was covered in red and white body paint, and tribal earrings stretched out his earlobes. From his neck dangled a tribal token of some kind. But what made Lara’s breath catch was the big black cock that dangled between his strong thighs. Even in its softened form, she could’ve measured it against her forearm to find it both longer and thicker. The tribesman spoke in a harsh language but she couldn’t make out anything. His face remained impassive. “He said we’re his prisoners,” said Jeremiah. Lara’s eyes flickered with sunlight as she gazed up at the well-endowed African. “You can tell him I have no problem with that.” She and Jeremiah got up and were made to walk ahead, while the warrior directed them from the back. Lara had no chance to get her clothes, and figured it was probably for the best. As the tribesman followed from behind, she did her best to show off her wide hips and her dimpled butt. “They’re going to kill us,” whispered Jeremiah. “You worry far too much. Just let me talk to them.” “I’m going to make a run for it.” Lara wanted to punch him but dared not given the situation. “You better not, or else I’ll flay you alive.” With the loser gone, she would have no way of communicating with the tribe at all. Any chance of finding the artifact, and even of surviving, would be drastically reduced. Though they spent most of the day trekking, the tribesman took many breaks and seemed in no hurry. The sky darkened and night descended upon them and they were still in the middle of nowhere. “Ask him how much longer it is.” Jeremiah shook his crazed, scared face. “N-No…” At some point the warrior got up and planted his spear in the ground. He said some rough words, then took off. Jeremiah trembled. “He said that he has to take care of something. He said that if we leave that spear out of sight, he’s going to cook us for dinner.” Lara smiled at the tribesman. “Lovely.” Only when he had gone out of earshot did she turn to Jeremiah, “Listen, you need--” “I’m going to die,” he said, shuddering. “You won’t die! Stop saying that.” “I’m still a virgin.” His hand came up to his heart as if he were about to have a heart attack. “I… I…” He swallowed hard and seemed to choke. “You need to let me make love to you.” Lara laughed darkly. “Oh?” But his face remained stark and gloomy. “I can’t die a virgin. Please, please, please… I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll accept my fate. Just please let me have you just this one time. I promise I’ll give it my all.” I have no doubts. It’s just that your all is useless. The last thing she needed was for this idiot to try anything though. Considering he was right in the grand scheme of things, and that such a low lifeform as him would be wiped out in the near future, making the petty exchange to guarantee the artifacts return seemed worth it. All those people can’t have died for nothing. Lara took a deep breath and spread her legs open. “Well, come on, I suppose…” Jeremiah got up and fumbled with the buttons as he tried to take the shorts off. She stood by casually as he grabbed onto his tiny dick and tried to shove it inside. Lara offered no help and kept her gaze averted. She could feel him struggling to find the right place to put it, completely confused by the female anatomy. When at length he managed to put it inside, she could barely feel it, while he groaned and lowered himself on top of her. He went back and forth a few times, till she could feel it slipping out and rubbing against her lips. The loser seemed completely unaware of it. He seemed so amazed at the prospect that he was fucking her that he could focus on nothing else. “Does it feel good?” he asked breathlessly. Lara chortled. “It doesn’t feel like anything.” On the other hand, just thinking about that warrior’s beautiful black cock made her giddy and wet. A thrust later Jeremiah managed to come. At least, he sounded like it. When Lara attempted to clean herself in disgust, she found no trace of his cum at all. Do men this weak even have cum? Jeremiah plopped down next to her, grinning wildly. “My life is complete.” “What life?” asked Lara. When the warrior returned, Lara finally had Jeremiah translate a few things for him. But without even listening, the warrior shook his head and said that she would talk before the elders the following day. She slept peacefully for once, without being bothered constantly. The next morning they started off at daybreak, this time with the tribal warrior leading the way, no longer worried that they would attempt to escape. Lara followed closely, her eyes lingering over his buff back. “How could you ever compare with a man like this?” she teased Jeremiah. Though he had been quiet and behaving now, the fact that he had dared to penetrate her at all irked Lara deeply. His eyes bulged. “W-What?” “Just look at him. Those rippling muscles and that deep dark skin. Not to mention his horse cock. How could a little white bitch like you compare?” Jeremiah lowered his eyes and went in silence. Maybe he had finally learned his place. The tribal home of the warrior proved to be a few ramshackle huts that formed a rough circle. What surprised her the most was just how many women there were in the tribe. Young and old, all of them seeming to comprise the vast majority of their numbers. Where are their men? The question came to be answered soon enough. Three other men joined the warrior that had brought them to this place, all of them equally masculine and well-endowed. Out of the hut that squatted closest to the center, a elderly man came out. He was lankier than the others, with a shade of even darker skin, and a shawl thrown over his shoulders. His magnificent cock was decked out in rings of gold, while the lovely balls sagged freely, looking heavy with seed. The others formed a barrier around Lara and Jeremiah while the old chief inspected them. His eyes lingered over Lara’s sumptuous physique. He spoke in a low tone, interpersing his words with some lazy clicks. Jeremiah’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “He asks what we’re doing in the territory. He asks if we don’t know that for anyone to travel here without permission is a crime, and that for whites it’s an unacceptable sacrilege.” Lara only went on smiling happily at the chief. She adjusted the few strands of hair that came over her face. “Tell him I want his help. Tell him…” Jeremiah struggled to translate at the speed that she talked. Afterwards the chief spoke in response. “How would you repay us for this help?” Lara grabbed the old man’s gnarled black hand and placed it over her creamy and soft breast. “However I can.” The chief, seemingly taken by her act, looked at her with new eyes. He palmed at her chest, lowering his hands down to her hips and finally upon her bubble butt. He squeezed and massaged her ass, boring into her eyes intensely. This is all I wanted, thought Lara, already dripping wet. Just a strong black man to use me for his pleasure. Relic hunting might’ve been her job, but being the slave to superior black men and worshiping their huge cocks - that was her real passion and purpose in life. As it is for all white women.   She dropped down to her knees instinctively, feeling unworthy to stand as a white bitch when surrounded by such beautiful black studs. Her eyes found the judging one of the chief. Hoping to please him, her soft white hand went up to his sweaty balls and caressed them with all the love in the world. They’re so heavy… The old man seemed content enough to let her continue. Lara leaned forwards and kissed his swollen cock down the shaft, leaving the final deep kiss for his engorged head. Then she came up and tried to fit both his balls inside the small space of her mouth. She did it, just barely, then let them rest in the welcoming warmth of her wet mouth as she massaged them with her tongue, moaning eagerly.   As a child, her father had always challenged her to fit as many candy drops in her mouth as possible. At the time, it only seemed like a game, but now… Was this what you were preparing me for, Papa? She only wished he could see her little girl now, fitting these old black balls in her mouth with all the know-how of a proper BBC slut. You would be so proud. The chief took a step back, nodding vigorously. “He says you have his approval,” Jeremiah translated, shocked at what he was seeing. “But his warriors must put you to the test as well.” Lara grinned. “Please.” Though they were from a world away, these Africans behaved in the exact same way all black men did when dealing with a white whore. They formed an impenetrable circle around her, then grabbed their BBCs and slapped them against her face while Lara held her tongue out and smiled. I’m so ready to submit to you… she thought, looking up at the severe dark faces surrounding her. She took a cock in each hand and used her mouth to move around between them, slurping at each one in turn. The warriors grabbed her by her ponytail and fucked her face as roughly as they could. Lara choked hard on their throbbing cocks as they assaulted her tight throat. They held her nose and spit down on her face, clearly intent on making her suffer as much as possible. But that’s what white women deserve. And wanted.   Only when she began to gag on their cocks and cry in earnest did they start to exchange smiles between them. They made her deepthroat each one of their cocks down to the very base, holding her down in an ungodly lock as her body began to spasm on its own, trying desperately to draw breath. Lara got passed from one to another, and every sign of hesitation was rewarded with a ear-ringing slap that sent her mind reeling. Thank you… Discipline me, masters! When they were done she lay on the ground, panting, barely able to think. Her eyes wandered up and she saw Jeremiah staring down, stroking his white pinky dick he watched the love of his life get dominated by real men. Black ones. One of the tribesmen got behind her and shoved her face down into the mud, while he sent his cock in the deepest reaches of her pussy. Lara screamed from the pain, unable to suppress it in any way, feeling her the walls of her tight pussy getting stretched more than they were ever meant to. These men didn’t just want to fuck her. They wanted to ruin her. The only response of her body, however, was to melt in submission and give itself over to this superior breed of men, no matter what the cost. I need to serve them. Her pussy gushed with her juices as the tribesmen switched places behind her, slapping at her ass with all the force they could muster till Lara could feel the blood trickling down her abused asscheeks. But her screams soon turned to low moans that could’ve been mistaken for guttural growls. She had just lost all control of herself. An orgasm ripped through her and left her legs quivering and her lungs unable to take in enough air - rather than stopping, the warriors went at her even harder. Slowly they began to gangbang her in earnest, slapping her around to attentive wakefulness and forcing her to stroke their cocks. Another warrior got under her while the one behind now took her ass, with the third went back to facefucking her mercilessly. Lara took their abuse with joy in their heart, knowing she only did what came natural to her. Being a cumdumpster and a cocksleeve for big black cocks. The most honorable thing for any white woman to do, and the one that held the greatest pleasure as a reward. She came again and again, now not even able to scream. All the terrified and agonized screams that followed as her tight ass got torn by their cocks and made to gape wildly were choked back down by the pulsing BBC that dumped hot seed right down her throat. In short order, every single part of her got filled up, from her pussy to her ass. When they were finally done with her, she lay on the ground shaking helplessly, with seed spilling both from her nostrils and her mouth. Her whole body writhed in the mud as the relentless orgams combined with the torture of her insides combined to ravage her young body with all the force necessary to punish such a little white cumrag. Just when she thought she was about to pass out, two of the warriors brought her up on unsteady feet. They held her and helped her go on unsteady feet towards the waiting chieftain that sat on a stool. His gnarled and bumpy cock had been undressed of all rings except one at the base. Thick seed dribbled from the top as he held it up. No… Lara thought, trying to get out of it. But she was too weak to move a single muscle. Later, I-- The two impaled her on the old man’s cock in a single savage movement. The old man reached up and locked her in a full nelson position, clicking with excitement in his native tongue as his massive BBC rammed her insides. Lara shrieked at the top of her voice, shaking without control. A moment later, a shower of juices shot out of her raw pussy, and her eyes rolled back, blank in absolute pleasure. Her slutty mouth hung open, tongue lolling, waiting to be filled by more delicious black seed. The old man took the last unexplored corners of her body, sending her on a ride she would never forget. Lara slipped in and out of consciousness, and each time she came back she could hear her tits slapping against her chest and the fire spreading inside her body as the chieftain filled her with all the seed from his colossal black balls. Through her half-closed eyes, Lara could see Jeremiah getting stripped down by some of the tribeswomen and dragged off. They fucked her. Not for the day, not for the night, but for days to come, until Lara lost all track of time. She fed only on their seed and the pleasure that wracked her entire body. The tribesman seemed content with her too, and in the final days went to far as to teach her the name they called her by (which Jeremiah translated as “pale dog bitch”) and paint her body in a pattern that they reserved for the lowest of the low within their society. They accepted me, she thought happily, with tears in her eyes, as her tits flew wildly from the nonstop assfucking she received. Jeremiah, however, had not been accepted. They correctly deemed him too useless, and unworthy of manhood. The only way they could accept him among them was as a pet and not as a white guy - Jeremiah needed to leave his identity behind. The tribeswomen covered him in a mix of coal and mud, and forced him to trail on all fours in service to the chieftain. He would serve as a translator when they needed one; but most importantly, as an example of what losers white men were. “Everything worked out great, didn’t it?” Lara glanced down at him, her legs shiny with several rivulets of warm seed. The time to depart was nearly upon them, but she couldn't stop stroking their gorgeous black cocks. "You're so lucky you get to stay behind." Annoyed by his constant stares, she put her foot on his head and lowered his head into the mud. Redeemed or not, he still didn't deserve to gaze upon her.

[tigerdrop]

ive been absolutely losing my mind this past week but today i have escaped the thrall of brain demons and i would like to show u a sneak peek of my geralt/jaskier sex pollen fic, Sacrificial Rites. (this part is safe-for-work tho.)

its roughly halfway done but this is all im comfortable sharing right now BYYEeee

It starts when Jaskier hears, in the near distance, something like a cannon firing. Well, if he were to think about it, actually, it starts some time before, in a little spit of a village to the north of the Temerian capital. Theirs is but a humble farming community, and it smells the part, which Jaskier reminds Geralt of. Frequently. But the air’s tinged with the smell of smoke, too, and the snow-dusted trees that knot themselves through the village are adorned with bright, multicolored muslin ribbons. Jaskier thumbs some of them as he passes by. Their coin purses are light, and there’s always something, somewhere, in need of slaying, and when a stream of young girls brushes past them, boughs clustered in their hands like bouquets, Jaskier suspects all he’ll have to do is join in whatever festivities are at hand and he’ll drum up work for them in no time. And by “them”, of course, he means Geralt. But that’s not the part he says out loud. True enough, it takes just one bawdy song about Geralt’s prowess at ghoul-slaying and lady-killing for someone in the local tavern to recognize him. A puffy-eyed man, calls himself something Jaskier can’t parse. Or pronounce. But his coin’s good, and Jaskier’s not yet had occasion to sing about the creature he describes - a cikavac, heavy on the sibilants; a gangling, bird-like thing that’s stealing the milk from their cows and the honey from their hives. Jaskier lets out a laugh. “Really? And what does a great big bird want with cow’s milk, anyway?” “Not for eating,” says the man, tugging at his mustache. His voice has a heavy accent, like the words are punched out of his mouth. “Cikavac works for someone. Maybe in another village, maybe someone here. Takes the milk back to them.” “Glorified theft,” Geralt mutters. “Well, what’s the bird get out of it, then? If it were up to me, I’d rather get to fly around, and sing, and, er, whatever else it is birds get up to. Preening? That sounds nice.” “That’s all you do anyway,” says Geralt, face stony, and he steers Jaskier away from the tavern by his shoulder. They almost bump into a woman and her children just outside. Jaskier shimmies past them, narrowly avoiding trodding on their embroidered skirts. “I’m deeply offended, Geralt,” he laments with a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, I’m a man of many skills and talents. Like… Oh! You wouldn’t happen to have any cherries on hand, would you?” “No,” he says, like this is obvious. “More’s the pity. I’ve got this fascinating trick of the tongue, you know. Lets you tie a knot in a cherry stem, no hands necessary. I picked it up from some ladies in Novigrad.” Geralt turns his head back to look at him, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t dignify that with a response. Doesn’t say much the rest of the afternoon, either. All Jaskier can squeeze out of him is a rudimentary description of the thing - gawky, uncomfortably humanoid, and bearing a long, narrow beak with a fleshy pouch where it keeps its spoils. “Like a pelican,” Jaskier supplies helpfully to no one but himself. There are preparations to be made, but Jaskier mostly tunes them out. More interesting is the smoke, growing thicker as they approach the outskirts of the village. Lot of torches for the middle of the day, he thinks, until they resolve themselves as effigies of cloth and straw, bedecked in dried husks and rudimentary skirts to give them the shape of a woman. Jaskier’s mouth closes mid-word. “Oh, that’s alright, then,” he starts up again, “they’re just setting a bunch of little girls on fire. No big deal. And— and then putting them out again. Sure. Seems a little counterproductive!” His voice breaks on the last word, coming out unnaturally loud. A handful of people glance his way. “Don’t be rude,” grunts Geralt. “Not looking to get chased out of town before I get paid.” “Geralt of Rivia, telling me not to be rude? My goodness. I guess I must be rubbing off on you.” Most of the participants gather around a creek that splits the town from the thicket. They cross its shallow waters between a group of boys taking turns to toss their own straw dolls into it. Back to their familiar rites: gathering herbs, laying traps, establishing a stakeout. Jaskier’s gotten quite good at it by now. He sings while he works, mindless things about sad women with lush black hair, so thick you could drown in it. Geralt tells him to knock it off. It only encourages him to give Geralt a winning smile as he cooks up another verse. They’ve got a nice little vantage point where the valley swells up into rolling hills, affording a decent view of the— of the— “Geralt, what’d that alderman call himself?” The witcher looks up from where he’s crushing seeds in a mortar. “Zduhać.” He mouths the word silently, and finds it cumbersome. Of Zduhać’s farmstead, then, where he’s kindly left his prized goat tied up this night for them to use as bait— “It’s a title,” continues Geralt. Jaskier blinks at him, surprised. “Means something like ‘dragon man’.” Of the zduhać’s farmstead, then. Glad they got that sorted out. “So, what, am I to believe that that old man killed a dragon? He didn’t seem much for that kind of thing. A bit too much gout, if you ask me.” “That’s not what it means.” Jaskier waits for a moment, but Geralt just keeps pounding his pestle. “And what, pray tell, does it mean?” he asks at last, as he crosses one leg over the other and rests his hands on his knee. Geralt keeps silent in a way that Jaskier has come to interpret as I don’t know, so don’t ask. Now, they wait. And wait. Geralt keeps his eyes peeled, as sharp as ever, but sometime after the moon rises high in the sky, Jaskier’s fingers stop strumming quite so fast. The air’s balmy and supple, ripe with moisture and the pollen of countless plants unfurling again, and he finds himself nodding off. Jaskier comes to all at once when he hears, in the near distance, something like a cannon firing. He clambers to his feet, against all reason, really, because the last thing he should do is make himself a bigger target for - for whatever that was from. His lantern’s been put out, enveloping the forest in darkness, and he is suddenly aware that he is alone. “Geralt?” he calls out to the trees. His voice warbles in a way he doesn’t like. There’s no response, but he’s sure that sound came from this way. Or maybe it was that way? Jaskier may be no witcher, what with those keen senses and all, but he is clever enough to follow the shuffling and rustling in the trees until he’s sure he isn’t just hearing things. It’s not until he’s well and truly lost track of where he started from that he stumbles through a cluster of flowering bushes, and with it, Geralt. What he should say is something like “Geralt!”, or “Geralt!”, or even “Thank goodness you’re alright!”, but instead what he says is, “Lords have mercy, you’re filthy,” because his eyes have a direct feed to his mouth that bypasses his brain entirely. Geralt’s hunched over and trying in vain to clean his face, covered as he is from head to toe in a translucent, yellowy slime. So is everything else in a ten foot radius. Geralt spits. “No shit.” “What’s— what in the world happened to you?” He steps forward gingerly in an attempt to avoid the mess. “Damned thing. It ate one of my pouches.” Jaskier draws upon his dabbling knowledge of witchery and alchemy to come to the conclusion that something inside it didn’t play nice with the cikavac’s insides. And now its insides appear to be its outsides. “Well, you’re not hurt, are you? Not missing any limbs, from what I can see.” “You’ll put me out of a job with observational skills like those,” says Geralt, unimpressed. He wrings a thick glob out of his hair. All that’s left of the poor beast is its beak, glossy, orange, and befouled with the same stuff. Jaskier lets Geralt pick it up himself. They can’t go back to town looking like this, or at least Geralt can’t, as Jaskier kindly reminds him. There’s a secluded bank downstream from the villagers and their celebrations. It’ll have to do. This, too, is another thing Jaskier’s gotten good at over the years. Scrubbing Geralt clean, that is. He knows which oils to keep on hand to best maintain Geralt’s hair, which salves to apply to all the places Geralt can’t reach, and which temperature Geralt likes the best when they’ve got a choice in the matter. Things that should be degrading. Beneath a man of his stature. ‘Should’ isn’t often found in his vocabulary, however. His fingers knead through Geralt’s hair to coax the last of the slime out of it. It has an odd texture, not unlike a whisked egg, although he’s to understand it’s just a foul mixture of honey, milk, and assorted intestinal fluids. Muscle memory takes over. The rote nature of it quiets a buzzing in him. It’s the same buzz that makes him turn rhymes over in his head, over and over, keeping him from a good night’s sleep unless he’s worn out or fucked out. Hence his predilection for the finer things in life - wine, women, washing. Geralt’s kind of like a cat, Jaskier thinks idly, how he leans into the firm drag of Jaskier’s fingernails against his scalp. It’s hard to beat back a smile. Those eyes of his, normally beady slits, balloon in the dim moonlight. Jaskier pushes down on his shoulders to get him to submerge himself. He goes easily, lingering under the surface for a moment, where his silver hair hangs suspended around him in a filmy cloud. Then he bursts back through the surface like a quenched sword, hot and steaming. Maybe there was something to those strange rituals after all.

[brien-odylan]

Late-night | Lee Donghae

A/N: eh... this is not what I expected for the night, but when I’m hit with a 15-minute video of Donghae saying goodnight because he can’t sleep, you cannot expect my mind to miss this opportunity. First of all... This is my first fanfic ever with this absolute adorable man and I’m nervous af! Second, no, this is not our ordinary Dylan stuff. get over it. Third... This is not what I said I was writing. This is, however, a start. A new start for me. You will be seeing more of Donghae’s handsome face around and for that, I’m not sorry. Enjoy it. 

Pairing: Lee Donghae x reader

Word counting: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and some more fluff.

At first, it seemed like a dream. The ruffling sound of the sheets, the dim light coming from her side, the soft, whispered voice speaking beside her in the quietest tone. It was like she was imagining it all, a faraway dream that lulled her in and out of her slumber, dancing around her cloudy mind, keeping her from truly waking up, the sleep overpowering all other senses she could think of mustering. 

There was a peaceful atmosphere in the room, the dark sky and blinking lights showing on the horizon of the curtainless window in front of her giving her the clear sign that she wasn’t asleep anymore, the shifting weight over the mattress causing her to shuffle against her own accord. Slowly, but very surely so, Y/N turned on her spot, her back falling softly against the silky touch of the sheets, a soft sigh coming from her lips as she adjusted to the new position, her arms falling beside her in a somewhat lifeless way, their weight being too much for her to sustain.

In rare occasions, Y/N slept through the whole night. It could be seen as a burden to most of the people she knew, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the serenity of the night, the stars making their appearance over the deep blue velvety night sky, the moon, when present, illuminating the room with its yellowy glow. And while it seemed poetic and meaningful, it hid a completely different significance to the girl, whose eyes would be glued to the flat screen of the phone she held in her small hands, waiting for the message she was about to send to be answered in a heartbeat. 

That night, however, there was no need for a phone. She had fallen asleep secluded by the arms of the person she spent most of her time talking with over the night. She had fallen asleep beside the man that occupied her mind the entire day. She had fallen asleep feeling his heart beating against her, the warm touch of his bare skin against hers. But when Y/N’s brain fully comprehended she was indeed awake, she felt the loss of those securing arms wrapped around her middle, the absence of his sunny breath hitting against the back of her neck in a soothing way and the sounds around her became more clear, the low mumbles from the other side of the bed making her squint her eyes trying to see past the poorly lit conditions.

And there he was, the phone almost pressed to his face, the low glow from the screen giving her the chances to analyze his features better, the pale skin prominent with dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up to every direction. Y/N could see he was having a hard time to adapt to the time zone. It was the middle of the night and there he was, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, sheets scrunched up and resting around his waist, one hand holding the phone in front of him, the other running through his hair countless times.

She could hear his voice coming out in the dark of the night, the sexy, raspy and yet very tired tone causing a certain discomfort to spread within her. Y/N had always had a rough time with only hearing his voice. It was that deep, rich sound that could make her travel far and beyond her imagination, the sound that could make her fall even more in love with him, the sound she wished to wake up and fall asleep to. And there was the fact that, if she was not mistaken, he was speaking English. 

The tingling sensation started on the tip of her toes, spreading rapidly through her body, running through her veins until it reached her heart, the organ protesting and beating wildly fast against her ribcage, hammering on her chest in a way that she was sure that could be heard by anyone capable of hearing. His accent ringing in her ears, Y/N could only take a deep breath, her hands closing tightly around the fabric covering her body, eyes shut close in a failed attempt of controlling herself.

She should be used to it at this point in her life, but in the dead of the night, when all she could hear was the deep breaths coming from him and the sweet sound of his tongue rolling on his mouth speaking foreign words into the air, she could not contain the feeling spreading through her veins, warming her entire being and intoxicating her mind as if she had drunk the country’s soju supply. A numbness ran over her mouth, throat running dry as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sound coming from him, scooting closer to his body as slowly as she could without startling him, without making a sound.

Donghae’s eyes never left the screen, though, his somewhat incoherent mumbles echoing through the room for minutes, his illuminated dark brown eyes dancing over the landscape of the window, unaware of anything surrounding him. 

Y/N wouldn’t know how long she stood there on her side, eyes closed shut without falling asleep just listening to Donghae’s words, the warmth emanating from him washing over her skin as a sunny day. But before she knew it, the room went back in its complete darkness, the sound of something being put on the bedside table hitting her ears.

Tentatively, Y/N opened one eye, watching as the dark-haired man stretched his arms over his head and yawned, the simple action making her realize things she usually neglected; the stretch of his muscles; the popped veins running from his hands to his forearm; his Adam’s apple prominently going up and down his neck. And maybe she was so entranced by it all, so lost in thought, that she didn’t notice when Donghae turned his eyes to her side, expecting to see her sleeping form curled around the sheets on the far end of the bed, where he had left her. 

The light chuckle that escaped his throat was enough to wake her up from the daydream, eyes meeting for the first time that night despite the lack of light in the room. Even so, she could tell he was smiling down at her, amusement written all over his face, studying her features, taking in every little detail as she had seen him do many times before. And like every other time, she felt her cheeks heating up with the sudden rush of blood the area, eyes casting downwards instantly, a shy smile gracing her lips.

“Did I wake you?” His voice was nothing but a whisper, almost unheard, but the moment his hands made contact with her hair, running through it in a gentle caress, all her senses heightened.

“‘Course not,” she whispered back, the sound muffled by the pillow. “You’re not the only one living in a different timezone for the past couple of days.”

Donghae sighed and shook his head. He would never agree to her protests of staying awake until late just to talk to him whenever he was out of the country. It was illogical and reckless, but if was were to be completely honest with himself, he would do the same. So, with a huff, he shifted around the bed again, his head falling on the soft pillow on her side, face to face with the woman that owned his heart.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said, his right arm falling atop of her, hand resting on her back and pulling her closer to him. 

“And you should go to sleep, Hae…” she mumbled, getting a tired smile out of him, eyes closing basking in on the sensation of having her so close to him. Two days had been too much. “I thought you said you weren’t going to speak English anymore.”

His laugh wasn’t loud, the trembles of his chest reverberating through her bringing a smile to her face as she looked up at him, eyes squinted, tongue running over his lips.

“I’m not going to speak English with you,” he clarified. “You’re becoming too lazy with your Korean.”

Y/N huffed, eyes rolling slightly as she ran her hand over his shoulder, fingers caressing the nape of his neck, nails scratching the skin slightly careful enough to not leave any marks on him. 

“That’s fair,” she mumbled. “But you were supposed to relax, not start a live video.”

“Y/N, I can’t be more relaxed than I am right now,” he said, head resting against her chest. With his eyes closed and listening to the calming beats of her heart, the idol mumbled something under his breath, earning a slight protest from the girl.

“Sleep now,” she said, lips turning into a smile as she adjusted herself on the bed, back pressed against the mattress, chest sustaining a growing tired by the minute Donghae, hands running up and down his exposed skin in a tender embrace, legs tangled up under the sheets.

With a content sigh, the man relaxed, his eyelids drooping closed, hands clutching to the girl underneath him, the soft pumps of her heart against his ear lulling him into a deep slumber before he even realized.

Everything was fine. He was home now.

Taglist: @mf-despair-queen

[mysticsparklewings]

Terrarium Nova

Would you guys believe this started out as me trying to practice trees & use up some leftover paints sitting in/on my palettes from other projects?   The tree practicing is for a different project I'll be doing later, and I'll share the specifics of then   But yeah, I have a good amount of leftover watercolor dried onto a couple of cheap palettes, as well as some acrylics paints in a palette meant to keep them fresh (but unless you monitor it and spritz them with water every couple of days, they will still eventually dry up) and I really hate to waste any of it if I can help it, especially when it's my slightly nicer stuff. (Some of it was, some of it wasn't) So I figured I'd try to kill two birds with one stone, and the end result ended up looking pretty cool, although I do still have some more paint that didn't get used here, so this may not be the last random-ish painting you see from me. Oh, and I was also recycling a little bit since I used the back of a giant piece of watercolor paper I had previously used as a protective mat for my desk. I started with the tree shapes, mostly inspired by Bonsai trunks, and that actually did use up pretty much all of the dark brownish paint I was using, so I was off to a strong start. Then I went in with some metallic watercolor that was leftover from my Butterfly Babe piece, which dried with more of the black and silver I had mixed into it on top for reason unbeknownst to me, so the first little hill/mound I made naturally came out darker and more silvery than the additional hills I added later than came out decidedly more gold. I think after that I added in the orange sun/planet (in my head it's the sun but a lot of the details here are very ambiguous in what they could potentially be) and an accompanying orange horizon line. Originally, I thought I was going to be making a very sunset-ish background with possibly a very red sky and mixing the yellows in more, but that obviously didn't end up happening. I was kinda just going with what I felt like and where the paint wanted to take me. So I ended up going in with the yellows (and later red and magenta) leftover from my $50 vs $4 Watercolors piece (these ones being the $50 ones, the $4 ones were put on a separate palette while I was using them so I wouldn't get the two mixed up) and ended up making many yellow hills to fill out the background some more, though admittedly the ones on the left kinda got away from me a little. And I'll pause here to say that I was using water brushes throughout this entire piece as opposed to actual paintbrushes, and every time I use those (at least when I'm getting proper water flow) I find that I tend to have a somewhat easier time getting certain watercolor effects, mostly when it comes to blending out hard edges. It's funny to me, as a lot of artists would say water brushes have a higher learning curve than regular brushes, and I'm sure some have a harder time with them. I think the main reason I have an easier time might be because back at the beginning of the year when I started re-discovering watercolor, the first set of paints that got (the Viviva watercolor sheets, for anyone who's curious) came with a water brush, and at the time I had never used one and was really excited to try it, as well as I just didn't have a ton of brushes at my disposal. Likewise, I spent a lot of my time learning watercolors on a water brush, whereas, naturally, most artists learn primarily on regular brushes. To be fair, I would like to one day invest in a slightly nicer set than the cheaper set of different size water brushes that I currently have, as these don't always flow correctly and at least one has a very slow leak where the top screws on, which hasn't caused any painting problems but is just kind of annoying because it very slowly gets my hand wet while I'm using it. Anyway. I then decided I hadn't used enough of that metallic paint and went in and added some dots of various sizes in the sky, since I didn't really feel like trying to make proper stars of any kind, but I wanted more up there and that seemed like a good place for more metallic paint. After that, the plan was to start on my red sky, but I started putting the red down and realized I hadn't cleaned my brush very good, so I got this interesting shimmery darker red color, and since I had already messed up, I liked the color enough I decided to make a moon out of it, which is why that red pot is hanging out over on the left side there. Why this "moon" and the "sun" are out at the same time, I couldn't tell you. Sometimes things just happen in art. That led me to the decision that instead of covering the whole sky in a color, I would just add some clouds, and I decided to got with the expensive magenta on my palette. Things were going fine until I grabbed more paint than water (as I was hoping for kind of pale/blended out soft clouds) and I ended up with some pretty nasty unblended lines one of the clouds and it was notably darker at the top than the others. And so I introduced the technique of "this one cloud got messed up so the rest of you have to suffer!"  And I also kind of had to be okay with none of the blending and layering on them turning out super smooth or nice for consistency's sake. And you know, it's not fine art or anything, but it doesn't look as terrible as I thought it was going to. (Though that could really be said for this entire piece. ) I also ended up adding in the purple-y mountains in the foreground after feeling bad that I'd neglected some of the paints I'd originally been intended to use the most, and I think in the end it adds a nice contrast and kind of ties the magenta clouds into the piece as a whole more. I knew I still wanted to do leaves on my trees, which were still just bare trunks and branches by this point, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do for them yet, so I did this kind of dome thing for the sky, after acknowledge I did not want to have to try and get a smooth, consistent blue wash around everything else I'd already painted in. (Yes, I once again forgot the principal rule of painting--put the background in first) While that dried, I took a break to ponder my next move. I hadn't used any of the acrylic paints that I had leftover (more than I originally would've had too, as I ended up making a sign for my mom that I haven't decided yet if I want to post or not) and one of the colors was green, which is a very basic choice for leaves, but I already had so many other strange colors going on that the basic blue sky and some simple green leaves didn't seem like asking too much. So then I just had to decide what the leaves were going to look like. In the end, I went with using the back end of a paintbrush to dot on some of the green and some of this pale, yellowy color, and a little of a mixture I made using those two colors together (originally for the sign, not this), and I tried to place the dots in mostly realistic places for leaves. And admittedly I could've done a lot more leaves and really filled out the trees, but I felt like it looked better with more of the trunk and branches showing. I also went with the dot thing partially to carry over the dots in the sky. I'm not really sure what kind of theme that is, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And then last but not least, I signed it with a purple gelly roll, trying to balance in both color and placement just a wee bit. Funnily enough, the most tedious part of this process was actually what came after it was finished. Because I was working on a giant piece of watercolor paper that was previously a mat for my desk, and I wasn't really sure how this was going to turn out, naturally I wasn't really thinking about what size I was painting at while I was working. And wouldn't you know it, my poor painting here ended up being too long to fit in my scanner all at once.  So I had to cut it out of the giant piece of paper and then scan it twice; once to get one end, and then a second time to get the other end. Then, of course, the two pieces had to be stitched together in Photoshop, which wasn't too bad. I then spent more minutes than I care to admit trying to figure out how/to what extent the best way was to single out the little oval-ish shape of the painting, as I thought that would be much nicer than leaving the ugly bits an pieces of white scanner background. I tried to keep the actual edges smooth, though I nixed the idea of having it be a perfect oval shape right from the get-go, mostly because of how much of the edges would get cut off in one area or another. So the shape itself is very imperfect. Still, I think in the end everything turned out pretty nice. And admittedly after how the later part of last week went for me, it felt really nice to just kind of go in and not really worry about the details or if everything was turning out exactly right or whatever. Sometimes you need to do something that's just loose and has very few rules to it like this. Personally, I think I really needed this at this time in particular, and for as unplanned and simple as it is, I'm really happy with how it turned out. The title is a little random; the shape and what I did with the sky kinda reminded me of a terrarium, and much like a nova is the birth of a star, this was a pretty spontaneous birth of a...planet, I guess.  I almost called it "Terra Nova" (roughly "earth star birth") but upon Googling that because it sounded familiar, I decided I did not want to name it after a movie that came out in 2011 that I know nothing about and have no affiliation with. Anyway, things might be a little slower on the art front this week, as I have a bit of a tall order to-do list, but for the foreseeable future things are going to be somewhat interesting here; I finally ordered a gouache set I've had my eye on, and it should be here by the end of the week, as well as the tree thing I mentioned at the top of the description, and another project I've done some preliminary work for...Jeez, I have an awful lot to try to squeeze in before Inktober starts, don't I?   Perhaps I'd best go and get started on all that. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[pabloaez]

Lemonade

When he came to my house months ago to measure

my walls for bookcases, Jim Sears didn’t look like a man

who’d lose his only child to the “high waters

of the Elwha River. He was bushy-haired, confident,

cracking his knuckles, alive with energy, as we

discussed tiers, and brackets, and this oak stain

compared to that. But it’s small town, this town,

a small world here. Six months later, after the bookcases

have been built, delivered and installed, Jim’s

father, a Mr. Howard Sears, who is «covering for his son»

comes to paint our house. He tells me — when I ask, more

out of small-town courtesy than anything, «How’s Jim?» —

that his son lost Jim Jr in the river last spring.

Jim blames himself. «He can’t get over it,

neither», Mr Sears adds, «Maybe he’s gone on to lose

his mind a little too», he adds, pulling on the bill

of his Sherwin-Williams cap.

Jim had to stand and watch as the helicopter

grappled with, then lifted, his son’s body from the river

with tongs. «They used like a big pair of kitchen tongs

for it, if you can imagine. Attached to a cable. But God always

takes the sweetest ones, don’t He?» Mr Sears says. «He has

His own mysterious purposes». «What do you think about it?»,

I want to know. «I don’t want to think», he says. «We

can’t ask or question His ways. It’s not for us to know. I just

know He taken him home now, the little one.»

He goes on tell me Jim Sr’s wife took him to thirteen foreign

countries in Europe in hopes it’d help him get over it. But

it didn’t. He couldn’t. «Mission unaccomplished», Howard says.

Jim’s come down with Parkinson’s disease. What next?

He’s home from Europe now, but still blames himself

for sending Jim Jr back to the car that morning to look for

that thermos of lemonade. They didn’t need any lemonade

that day! Lord, Lord, what was he thinking of, Jim Sr has said

a hundred — no, a thousand — times now, and to anyone who will

still listen. If only he hadn’t made lemonade in the first

place that morning! What could he have been thinking about?

Further, if they hadn’t shopped the night before at Safeway, and

if that bin of yellowy lemons hadn’t stood next to where they

kept the oranges, apples, grapefruit and bananas.

That’s what Jim Sr had really wanted to buy, some oranges

and apples, not lemons for lemonade, forget lemons, he hated

lemons — at least now he did — but Jim Jr, he liked lemonade,

always had. He wanted lemonade.

«Let’s look at it this way», Jim Sr would say, «those lemons

had to come from someplace, didn’t they? The Imperial Valley,

probably, or else over near Sacramento, they raise lemons

there, right?» They had to be planted and irrigated and

watched over and then pitched into sacks by field workers and

weighed and then dumped into boxes and shipped by rail or

truck to this god-forsaken place where a man can’t do anything

but lose his children! Those boxes would’ve been off-loaded

from the truck by boys not much older than Jim Jr himself.

Then they had to be uncrated and poured all yellow and

lemony-smelling out of their crates by those boys, and washed

and sprayed by some kid who was still living, walking around town,

living and breathing, big as you please. Then they were carried

into the store and placed in that bin under that eye-catching sign

that said Have You Had Fresh Lemonade Lately? As Jim Sr’s

reckoning went, it harks all the way back to first causes, back to

the first lemon cultivated on earth. If there hadn’t been any lemons

on earth, and there hadn’t been any Safeway store, well, Jim would

still have his son, right? And Howard Sears would still have his

grandson, sure. You see, there were a lot of people involved

in this tragedy. There were the farmers and the pickers of lemons,

the truck drivers, the big Safeway store… Jim Sr, too, he was ready

to asume his share of responsibility, of course. He was the most

guilty of all. But he was still in his nosedive, Howard Sears

told me. Still, he had to pull out of this somehow and go on.

Everybody’s heart was broken, right. Even so.

Not long ago Jim Sr’s wife got him started in a little

wood-carving class here in town. Now he’s trying to whittle bears

and seals, owls, eagles, seagulls, anything, but

he can’t stick to any one creature long enough to finish

the job, is Mr Sears’s assessment. The trouble is, Howard Sears

goes on, every time Jim Sr looks up from his lathe, or his

carving knife, he sees his son breaking out of the water downriver,

and rising up — being reeled in, so to speak — beginning to turn and

turn in circles until he was up, way up above the fir tres, tongs

sticking out of his back, and then the copter turning and swinging

upriver, accompanied by the roar and whap-whap of

the chopper blades. Jim Jr passing now over the searchers who line

the bank of the river. His arms are stretched out from his sides,

and drops of water fly out from him. He passes overhead once more,

closer now, and then returns a minute later to be deposited, ever

so gently laid down, directly at the feet of his father. A man

who, having seen everything now — his dead son rise from the river

in the grip of metal pinchers and turn and turn in circles flying

above the tree line — would like nothing more now than

to just die. But dying is for the sweetest ones. And he remembers

sweetness, when life was sweet, and sweetly

he was given that other lifetime.

Raymond Carver.

[skinkcare-blog]

90 Questions, Beauty Edition

Helloooo, I’m starting to jumpstart my blog here. I really miss it, and a few encouraging people from my school have told me to start blogging and posting about what I love which is skincare and makeup. I saw two tags on tumblr and decided to form this 90-question tag. You’re free to take this if you want it, but I’d love to see your own answers!

1. Do you remember your first makeup item?

My first makeup item was most likely a cheap kohl liner that costed me like 20 pesos or something. Bands like Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Greenday, etc. were really famous when I was in elementary school and my best friends started getting into putting heavy black eyeliner... of course, I had to follow!

2. Describe your perfect mascara?

I’ve got straight-ass baby lashes, and I think I’ve found my holy grail: Marc Jacobs Velvet Noir mascara! It’s really good and doesn’t smudge on me. The first time I put it on I was aoskdfasdfjhaeuirjhj!!!!!! WOW!!1 Are those really MY lashes! Wow! I put it right before my law school finals and was really happy the whole time because I felt so stinking’ cute with my lashes, lol.

3. What kind of coverage do you prefer from foundation?

Full-ass coverage to hide my imperfections. But that’s usually uncomfortable, so when I just have school or stuff, I do like light coverage.

4. Favorite high-end makeup and skincare brands?

For makeup, I have a favorite brand for each item like eyeshadow, lipstick, etc. It’s hard to choose. But I freakin’ love everything that Anastasia Beverly Hills releases. For skincare, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Herbivore Botanicals. Everything seems to work for me and my collection of theirs is growing.

5. What cosmetic and skincare brands have you always wanted to try but still haven’t?

Boscia. Vinter’s Daughter. Sunday Riley (I keep canceling my orders because I just can’t justify the price tags. Ugh). Laneige. Indie Lee. Chanel. Giorgio Armani. Guerlain. High-end stuff my broke ass can’t ever afford, lmao.

6. Favorite drugstore brand?

Maybe L’Oreal. I love their clay masks and the Miss Manga mascara too much.

7. Do you wear fake lashes?

Yes! But they’re such a hassle, so only when I’m going to some party (or when I’m taking selfies lol)

8. Is there any kind of makeup you can’t leave the house without?

I would say lipstick, but the brows really make the face and these days I really can’t leave the house without putting on some dip brow. :( Kilay is life.

9. What is your most cherished beauty product?

I’ve got a lot since I’m finally, finally (after 120312932 trials and errors) finding my own holy grails, but it’s probably Glossier Cloud Paint in Haze. Started my whole “drunken blush” thing going on lately. It also lasts forever even on my oily skin. I put it on in the morning once, and when I went home my mom asked me “why are you so red? are you drunk?” And I just. Yassss.

10. How often do you shop for beauty products?

Too often for someone who’s kind of dirt poor and in law school, tbh. I pick up one or two items every week or two.  But again, as I’m discovering my HGs, I’m trying to cut down on my impulsive buying. (It’s hard.)

11. Do you have a “beauty budget” or do you spend freely?

As long as my parents are in a good mood I spend freely... just not excessively! 

12. Do you utilize coupons, reward cards and sales when you shop for products?

Of course, I try to. But sometimes I can’t wait to get my hands on a product so I just pick it up already!

13. What type of product do you buy the most of?

Lipsticks. I’ve got way too many. (70-something.)

14. Do you avoid certain ingredients in cosmetics and skincare?

Avoid parabens! And sulfates! And weird things like bird poop and horse fat! (I know right?)

15. Do you have a favorite place to shop for makeup?

Yes! Russian’s The Beauty Source in Makati! Super friendly people there. The sad thing is though, it’s all high-end. I mean I do tend to buy high-end stuff but things like La Mer are... phew. Never in a million years.

16. Do you like trying new skincare products or do you stick to a routine?

I love trying new skincare products because my skin is so problematic and I’m always trying to find things that’d work for me. 

17. Favorite bath and body brand?

I like The Body Shop, but my favorite scents are from Bath and Body Works.

18. Are you clumsy applying makeup?

I’m clumsy in general. So!

19. What do you apply first, concealer or foundation?

Foundatiooon. Duh.

20. What do you love about makeup?

It’s therapeautic for me, I found out. Like it makes me feel happy and calm whenever I do my makeup. Or even just do a swatch party.

21. Lipstick, Gloss, Lip Stain, Balm, or Lip Liner? 

I just discovered Peripera’s Ink Velvet tints, and though they’re a bit drying I love them. So I’ll go with those since they’re the only ones that stay on after I eat and stuff, lol.

22. How do you make your Lipstick / Lip Gloss last longer? 

I use lip liner, usually. And to make them last extra long you gotta stop licking your lips!  23. How do you pick a Lip Color that looks good on your skin color? 

I tend to not go for super light shades because those wash me out and just don’t look good at all on my skintone.  24. What are some cheap ways to take care of chapped lips? Good ‘ol lip butter and some sugar scrub. Or vaseline.

25. Favorite drugstore lip product? EOS lip balms are nice.

26. Favorite brand name lip product? Kylie Cosmetics (for liquid lipsticks and lip liners), Fenty Beauty (for dat mf gloss bomb!), Peripera (tints)! 27. Do you usually play up or play down your lips? Play down. I love MLBB shades. 28. Eyeliner in Pencil, Gel, or Liquid? Liquid. B-) 

29. How do you do a cat eye? 

I just... wing it! Honestly. I’ve been putting on fancy eyeliner since I was like 13 so I’ve got the hang of it now. (Still mess up sometimes tho. Blame the shaky hand.) 30. What do you use to remove eye makeup and mascara? Right now I either use Pixi double cleanse, Skininc coconut cleanser water, and Maybelline oil-based makeup remover. The Pixi one works the best but kind of stings my eyes. 31. How do you make your eye makeup last longer? Good eyelid primer! Setting powder!  32. Cream or Powder eye shadow? Powder since I have yet to try any cream eyeshadows. I tried using Glossier’s cloud paint in Dusk on my eyelids once... it was a weird, sticky mess. #nope 33. What tricks can you do to make your eyelashes look longer? If you’ve got baby lashes like me (who am I kidding, even babies have longer lashes than me), just use false lashes lol. 34. How do you brighten up your eyes? 

Glitter eyeshadow, inner corner highlight, concealer, nude kohl liner and black as FUCK mascara. Yes.  35. What color(s) go with your eyes? 

Warm shades. 36. Favorite drugstore eyeliner? 

I don’t use drugstore eyeliner!  37. Favorite drugstore eyeshadow? 

I also don’t use drugstore eyeshadow. I’m picky as hell. 38. Favorite drugstore mascara? 

L’Oreal Miss Manga voluminous mascara forever. 39. Favorite drugstore eye pallette? Eh, pass.

40. Favorite brand name eyeliner? K-Palette eyeliner! Asia represent!

41. Favorite brand name eyeshadow? Anastasia Beverly Hills for powder eyeshadow, Stila (Magnificent Metals Glitter and Glow!) for liquid eyeshadow. 42. Favorite brand name mascara? 

Marc Jacobs’ velvet noir saved my life. 43. Favorite brand name palette? 

Kat Von D Shade and Light Contour palette helped me lose like 10 pounds. 45. If you can only use one eye makeup product, what would it be? 

Mascara, okay. 46. What is the difference between an eye primer and an eye base? 

Imo eye primers are more of like the “glue” that holds everything together and an eye base is what goes over the primer as like. The base color. Makes everything bolder, brighter and last longer. 47. Any tips on applying falsies? 

Pray. 48. Favorite brand of falsies? 

I really love Lilly Lashes but they’re mad expensive (like $30). 49. How do you pick your shade of foundation? Whatever says medium lmao I go with that. I’m shit at picking foundation and concealer shades but I’m usually like a pure beige/medium/warm beige/nude warm vanilla things like that. Yellowy. 50. What's a good foundation for oily skin? 

ESTEE LAUDER DOUBLEWEAR FOUNDATION SAVED MY OILY ASS SKIN. 51. What's a good foundation for dry skin? I’m not sure.

52. What's a good foundation for normal skin? 

Probably the Fenty Beauty foundation and every other foundation in the world, you lucky ducks. 53. How do you pick a foundation for your skin color? You pick one blindly and hope it’s a match. Hehe. 54. Tinted Moisturizer, BB Cream, or Foundation? Foundation. I love tinted moisturizers in theory but they don't work for me (for some reason the NARS one stings?) and BB creams are TOO white for me. 55. What is a BB Cream? Blemish Balm cream. Also known as the culprit for my ghastly white face in old pictures. Boo.

56. What do you use to apply your Foundation? Either a beauty blender or a foundation brush by Artis, BH Cosmetics or Real Techniques.

57. How can I make my nose look slimmer or straighter? 

Contour, boo. 58. Cream, Powder, or Liquid Blush? 

LIQUID BLUSH CHANGED THE GAME FOR ME. 59. Favorite foundation? 

Estee Lauder doublewear. 

60. Favorite concealer? The Tarte Shaptape is real good imo. Not sure if it’s holy grail material but it’s good for what it’s worth. 61. How do you conceal a pimple? I fail at that.

62. How do you conceal dark circles? 

First you gotta color correct (I use the LA Girl pro concealer in the orange shade) and then you put on the concealer. Use a beauty blender to blend the orange color corrector first then the concealer.  63. How do you get rid of or lessen dark circles? 

If you know the answer to this that doesn’t involve water or sleeping early, please hmu. 64. What is your daily skin care routine? Morning: wash face with my The Face Shop Dr. Belmeur foaming cleanser, tone with witch hazel, put on vitamin c suspension (The Ordinary), then Hyaluronic Acid (also The Ordinary).

Night: remove makeup with the Pixi double cleanse, cleanse with The Face Shop ^ cleanser again, use a mask, tone, put caffeine solution (The Ordinary) under eyes, put hyaluronic acid, then rosehip oil (The Ordinary).

65. What is your weekly skin care routine? 

Theta’s it. I use masks like Herbivore’s Blue Tansy as often as needed and advised. 66. How do you prep your face for makeup? 

PRAYER.  67. How do you take off your makeup? 

Double Cleanse, wipes, and Micellar Water (Garnier). 68. What are some DIY face masks? 

Honey + avocado + apple cider + oats.  69. Where can you buy face masks? 

I usually purchase mine from The Face Shop, Herbivore Botanicals, L’Oreal and just korean brands. 70. What facial moisturizer do you recommend? 

I don’t know. I want to try the Fresh Seaberry oil though. 71. How can I get rid of or shrink my big pores? THAT IS MY CURRENT PROBLEM. :( 72. How do you highlight your face? 

I use a good high-end highlighter (my favorite one is from OFRA), wet my brush using MAC Fix+ after dipping it into the highlighter, and bam. Cheekbones, nose bridge, tip of the nose and cupid’s bow. 73. How do you contour your face? 

I use either Kat Von D’s contour palette, or Too Faced’s milk chocolate soleil. 74. How often should you clean your makeup brushes? Depends on how much I use ‘em.

75. How do you clean your makeup brushes? I either use some soap + olive oil or the Daiso or Beauty Blender cleansers. 76. What are some inexpensive makeup brushes? BH Cosmetics’ are really nice!

77. Do you prefer matte or shimmer eyeshadows? I used to love matte shadows but now I super love shimmer shadow. 78. Do you prefer matte or dewy skin? Can I have dewy skin that doesn’t look oily, please.

79. Do you prefer matte or shiny lipstick / lipgloss? Matte because it lasts longer. 80. When did you start wearing makeup? Officially started getting really into it when I was like 13. 81. Who taught you to put on makeup? Myself. 82. What is your favorite brand of makeup? Already answered this!

83. What product do you never leave home without? I always have lipstick in my bag, powder be damned.  84. If you only had $50 dollars for makeup and skincare, what would you buy? I’d buy all the shit I have in my Althea cart (all skincare)! 85. Who is your favorite beauty guru on youtube? BRETMAN ROCK. Does he count? 86. How long do you take to get ready in the morning? Like half the day.  87. What online makeup store is your favorite? Sephora! 88. Who are your favorite beauty blogs on tumblr? Temptalia. Does that count? 89. How long should you keep a product? Until it ain’t spoiled, lmao. 

90. What product are you hoping to buy next?

Honestly, I really want the Fresh seaberry oil and I’m waiting for it to be in stock again. 

[boysintears]

Nightmare // Winchesters

Warnings: angst, death, inuries, very discriptive/graphic, gore, panic attack symptoms i think, like organs getting ripped out, swearing

Words: 1,816

Summary: one of the youngest winchesters night terrors

A/N: this isn’t written as readers pov, gender neutral sibling, i wanted to write this for longer now, i hope you like this

Tags: @supernatural-squadd ; @winchesters-favorite-girl ; @thegreatficmaster

Opening my eyes, everything was black, I couldn’t see nor hear anything. It was a deafening silence, only my erratic breathing, sounding in my ears. Trying to figure out where I was, I lifted my hands above my head, only for them to come in contact with a soft surface. Pushing my hands against it once more, but it wouldn’t budge.

Slowly I laid my arms back against my sides, realizing I couldn’t get up. My limbs were getting heavy and it was getting harder to breath.

Rolling onto my stomach, I tried to crawl to the sides, but I only came into contact with the same material than above me.

Panic was washing over me. I was laying in a coffin. A fucking coffin. My breathing was getting more frantic, the air only getting thinner. I turned back onto my back. Lifting my hands over my head again, was costing me a lot of strength. I pulled at the cloth, trying to tear it, to come to the wooden lid of my prison.

I was panting, black dots dancing in front of my vision, pieces of clothing hanging into my face, my fingers bloody and sore, when I finally came into contact with the wood. Digging my nails into the lid, getting splinters stuck into my fingers, blood dropping onto my face.

The air was getting dangerously thin, as a whole lot of dirt fell onto me. I couldn’t breath. No more air was around me. Coughing, I tried to get the dirt out of my throat. I was suffocating on it. No! I wouldn’t die! Not now, god damn it!

Digging myself further up as far as I could. My fingers were numb, I couldn’t feel a thing anymore, besides my heartbeat, that was beating too fast and hard. The earth against my fingers got softer and more humid, as I neared the surface. Only a bit more.

My vision was nearly completely black, when suddenly my fingers broke through the ground, I could feel a soft gush of wind against my numb limbs. Getting myself to wok faster before I would become unconscious.

Heaving my body out of my grave, I didn’t care about my surroundings, bending over and coughing, getting all of the filth out of my lungs, vomiting. Using the rest of my strength to puke out all of the earth I swallowed.

Taking shaky breaths I slowly opened my eyes and sat myself up. Gravestones surrounded me, overgrown with with undergrowth. Lifting myself up on shaking legs, I brushed the leftover dirt off my face and stumbled to the nearest grave. Brushing the plants out of the way, there was no name on the stone just a number. 25. What did it mean?

Crawling back to the next grave, I found another number, 311. Confused I turned around and walked to the hole I just dug myself out off. Pulling away the scrub, with shaking hands, I found a number like the others. 12. What the hell did this mean?

Pushing my weak body up again, I walked through the graveyard. The further I walked, the newer the gravestones looked, and the higher the numbers got. The last one I saw was 600.

A shudder crawled over my back, when I stepped out of the cemetery. Throwing a last glace back, I hurried to get away from my grave.

Running through the forest, stumbling over roots and getting scared by the sound of animals, I tried to find my way out. I needed to to get back to my brothers. I needed to get back to Bobby’s. Tears started to make their way down my face, I was scared. Fucking scared, and I didn’t even care. Walking further, just getting further. Just never stay in one place too long, who knows whats out in these woods.

My lungs were sore, breathing hurt like hell, I couldn’t take any deep breaths. I needed to rest, even though I felt way too unsafe, my body couldn’t do this any longer. Reluctantly I let my body sink to the ground against a fallen over tree. Taking deep, rattling breaths of air, I tried to steady my heartbeat.

Closing my eyes for a second, I thought back to the weird numbers on the gravestones. My thoughts were interrupted when a strong hand closed itself around my throat and lifted me off of my feet and into the air.

Gasping for breath, my eyes shot open, meeting glowing yellow orbs staring into mine. A slow grin spread itself on the lips of my opponents. Showing sharp yellowy fangs, that were starting to turn black in a few spots. The grip around my neck got tighter and claws started to make their way, painfully slow, into my skin.

“Look what we have here”, he rasped. “12 lived through it”, the grin got even wider, showing of more fangs. “I should bring you to the lab right now. But I wanna have a little fun with you. So run little sheep, run as fast as you can”, he laughed.

The hand around my throat let its grip looser and he threw me against a tree not far from him.

It took me a second to realize what just happened, before it hit me and I scrambled to my feet and run as fast as I could.

Pushing myself to run faster, as I heard it’s footsteps catching up to me. My legs were tiring, but I pushed them to run even faster than before, having the feeling of somebody breathing down my neck. I didn’t dare to turn around, afraid of falling over a tree root and being caught again.

I was panting, my throat hurting from the monsters hard grip, my pace was getting slower, my body being too tired from all the events, that happened in the last few hours.

Not having heard anything in a while, I dared to turn around and look if the thing was still behind me. A loud scream left my lips, the monster standing directly behind me, wearing a disappointed expression on it’s face.

“Oh, 12, you let me down”, he sighed sarcastically. “I really hoped you’d make it further, being the only one that lived through the first round of our experiments”, he said grinning.

I was frozen in fear, looking at the creature towering over me, before he let his clawed hand come down, swiping it over my face.

Falling to the ground, the pain made me cry out. He grabbed me by my hair, lifting me up again. Holding me directly in front of his face, his stinking breath causing goosebumps to appear on my skin.

Without saying anything, he beat my head against the next tree, knocking me out.

The next time I woke up, a bright light was shining directly into my face. Turning my head away, I tried to lift a hand in front of my eyes, only to find them bound to my sides. Groaning, I lifted my head to find myself on a doctor like chair, my hands and feet bound to the material of the seat.

Fearfully I looked at my surroundings. The room was big and windowless. The walls were made out of cement and the plastering was falling off in some places. Weird tubes, filled with green liquor, were standing in the middle of the room.

In one of the containers swam a body, it didn’t move, looked dead even, and it was hooked up to three different tubes. Suddenly the body moved, only for a second, as if a shock ran through it.

Scared, I looked away, to the other side of the room. I could see a big metal, double door. It was closed and looked very heavy.

Weird sounds were coming from the other side of it, like metal, hitting some other, softer material. I heard something break, before loud heavy steps neared the door. Instinctively I started to tug at the bounds around my wrists, trying to get free, before the person the steps belonged to could come through the door. But it was no use, the door opened and two tall, muscular built men, stepped through the door, they were dragging a cart behind them. The materials on it making clinging sounds.

As both neared the light, their features became more visible and a feeling of relief swam over me as I recognized them. “Sam? Dean?”, my voice broke as I croaked out their names. A happy smile on my lips.

I was free, my brothers came to safe me, like they always do. We were going to go back and everything was going to be okay.

But they didn’t react to me calling their names. Instead Dean surrounded the table, to stand on my other side and turned my head away from him, so he could look at the holes in the flesh of my neck.

“Why can he never do as we tell him”, he sighed. I was confused, what was going on? Tears were falling from my eyes. Why weren’t they helping me? Sam took a pair of scissors off of the cart and cut open my shirt, before he changed them against a scalpel. Taking a rag, that was hanging on the seat I was sitting on, he cleaned the knife, while Dean started to speak again.

“12, I am surprised, that you lived though the procedure. I didn’t expect your scrawny, weak body to be strong enough”, Dean said. He took a needle and rammed it into my neck.

The substance burned in my veins, making me scream in pain. My voice was coarse, my body burning all over. I was in such agony, that I didn’t notice Sam started to cut into my chest with the scalpel.

He cut all the way from my chest to my belly button. I saw him pulling my chest open, sticking his hands into my ribcage. My brother frowned, when he didn’t get what he wanted.

I was in so much pain, wishing that I could just fall unconscious, but even though black spots where dancing in front of my eyes, it wouldn’t bring the loved blackness.

Dean put his hands into my chest as well, and grabbed a few of my ribs. He started to pull at them, ripping pieces of them out of my body, until there was a hole big enough for Sam to reach.

A searing pain shot throughout my whole body, a scream as loud as a banshee’s escaped my sore throat.

Looking up through my teary vision, I could see Sam holding my, still pumping, heart. He grinned madly before he took a big bite out of it. And finally the pain ended and everything became black.

I shot up screaming, seeing a face in front of me wearing a, way too familiar, mad smile.

Masterlist

[snekgeck-blog]

I posted this on a forum but I’m going to post it here too

My bearded dragon, Topaz, is just under 7 months old, 11.5 inches long and 105grams. I've owned her since she was 3 months old and this is the first time I've had problems with her. I've recently moved into a new room, and she was upgraded to a 50gal tank from her previous 30gal long. She currently has a coil type UVB but has a repti sun 10.0 tube on the way (should be here by Friday, I just recently learned that coil type UVB's aren't the greatest). Her hot spot is 104 degrees, and her cool side is 80 degrees. I dust her crickets every day with zoomed's calcium with D3 (also changing to rep-cal brand, also on the way, hasn't arrived yet), and recently started dusting with herptivite multi vitamin. She eats gut loaded crickets every day, she recently went up a size in crickets though. She VERY OCCASIONALLY eats meal worms and by very occasionally I mean like maybe once a week she gets like three when she sees me feeding my leopard gecko and wants some. They are not a staple whatsoever, and saying once a week is exaggerating in frequency. She eats collard and dandelion greens daily, usually dusted with the multi vitamin. Greens are usually topped with squash or sweet potato, sometimes fruit usually pears or strawberries. Anyways, down to the problem. About three weeks ago, her poop started becoming a little runnier, I figured it was because I was feeding the strawberries too often so I stopped and so did the runny poops. Then about two weeks ago, I came home from work to find undigested cricket balls in her tank plus a very runny liquid poop puddle, I wasn't sure why. I gave her a bath and washed and disinfected her tank. Made sure she was basking and skipped the crickets that day to give her a break. The next day she pooped fine and everything was good. Every now and then, her urate seems to be a slightly dirtier colour, yellowy, but nothing extreme like orange or super dark. At this point I was already thinking about a vet trip, I was just waiting for a day off from work to take her (I've been working almost three weeks straight at the moment). My best guess was parasites, so I was going to take her for a check up and a fecal test just to make sure everything was okay. We didn't have a problem since, until tonight. She hadn't pooped in three days, temps and everything is still fine, she's been eating her greens and bugs no problem. I came home from work to see undigested crickets everywhere. They weren't in balls, each cricket was singular, and scattered all over her tank. Concerned, I went in and cleaned everything up, I took her out to make sure she was okay. She pooped on my bed and it was healthy. A decent sized urate, white and well formed, not dry or small or discoloured. My boyfriend suggested that her crickets might be too big and to go down a size and see if she digests them better and that her healthy poop might be the greens she's still healthily digesting. But I'm not too sure. The next problem is droopy eyes (blood hound eyes). This is the first I've noticed it. I know for a fact they're not normal because she's never had droopy eyes before. I actually have pictures of her from this morning and her eyes weren't droopy at all. So it's happened just today and I don't know why. I googled it and I've seen a few different theories. I don't think it's dehydration because she eats her greens well, and she drinks in her baths, and her skin is perfectly healthy. My fear is that it's kidney problems/failure. She's going to the vet on Monday or Tuesday (I'm off work both days, I just need to call and see what works best for my vet). I'll be getting a fecal done and I'll be asking about kidney problems and obviously bringing up everything said here. But I want to see what other people think, other theories. I know certain things in her care weren't the greatest and I'm fixing them but could the small errors have done this to her? She's my world and I'm very scared for her health and well being.

[artificialqueens]

Hypnotized Ch.1 (Trixya) - Emma

Authors note: Eeek. Okay, I am super nervous to submit this - so I hope you’ll like it. Basically, this turned into an angsty/fluffy thing - it sort of plays on recent Trixya events, but I totally spaced on what Trixie’s boyfriend’s name is (maybe that’s for the better, since no disrespect and yada yada). Either way, there will probably be three chapters of this, I hope. Happy readings, my doves!

” You did what? How did I miss this?” Trixie asked, his brown eyes staring wildly at the blonde man in front of him. Brian, or Katya had surprisingly turned out to become one of his best friends. He had never thought that they would still be this close. Of course, that always came with a price. Trixie, who had been in a serious relationship for the beginning of his friendship with the other man, had known to put Brian in a friendship jar right away, and make sure to screw that seal on as tightly as possible. He had done that as a preventive measure, only because whenever he was around the quirky Faux-Russian – he felt the most immeasurable kind of love that he had felt for a long time. They just got each other in a way that seemed unfeasible to anyone else. Trixie did have the balls to admit that he felt something for Katya, but he had never been able to determinate whether it was just platonic or not.

So, he kept his mouth shut even after the relationship ended – thinking to himself that someday, he would just blurt it out, they would get married and have little dogs that they took to the dog park. Katya would make him watch re-runs of ‘Contact’, but Trixie would take it because he would then force Katya to give up his precious nicotine addiction for him. It all seemed perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Trixie met someone else, Katya got angry, and it all resulted in them barely speaking for nearly five months. They had shot several episodes’ worth of their show, but Trixie had been forced to speak with plenty of angry producers – even Ron was annoyed, and that had practically never happened before– about how they did realize that they were breaching their contract, but they needed yet another break. Thankfully, a loophole was found, and they were both off the hook. Not that Trixie wanted to be but the short messages Katya would reply with on occasion, usually when Trixie had bombarded her with texts – the older queen made it perfectly clear that she had no intentions of continuing on their show if it meant lying to their fans and to herself. So, they didn’t.

Trixie realized that she had been leading Katya on. Their relationship had started as a fun thing they did for their fans that shipped them together, but it soon led to snuggling and making out when they were just Brian and Brian. When Katya had propositioned Trixie for sex, Brian Firkus’s whole being was shaken to the core. He had tried to search for signs that the other man was just joking around, but there was nothing but lust and adoration in those big, blue eyes. Even then, when he knew that at least one of them had passed the point of platonically cuddling each other, he still wouldn’t stop.

He kid himself when he pushed his own feelings away, because they were always hiding underneath the surface – just biding their time before they would come bursting out. Trixie knew he was being unfair, he really did. But he couldn’t stop. And that was ultimately what led to that awful afternoon.

“So, what are we doing tonight? I’m finally all moved in Tracy, you need to come over and see my new place. I haven’t even painted the walls in some neon tragedy yet.” Katya asked as she wiped away the last reminders of her drag persona in the small dressing room they shared in Wow Presents studios. Trixie smirked, knowing that the horrendous yellowy green – honestly, the colour was too bright for anyone to figure out what it actually was, Katya considered it soothing though – was finally out of their lives. Whenever she would visit Katya in Boston, she would always make some kind of comment about how the colour of her walls actually hurt her cornea. And that was coming from the guy that had hot pink all over his own apartment.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy tonight. I was going to tell you, but that guy I was talking to has been getting sort of serious about us. I’m even meeting his parents tonight, it’s insane – right?” Trixie blurted out, chuckling to herself. She hadn’t told her friend about the guy she had been seeing, Jack – she would like to think that was just about keeping some form of privacy, but for some reason, Katya had been popping up into her mind. She was worried about hurting her friend, and had had to spend several days of convincing herself that it would be fine. If there was anything you could count on Brian McCook to do, it was supporting her. No matter what.

Trixie waited for a response, but wound up with an awkward silence that spread across the room. She instantly knew that something was wrong. She glanced over to Katya, who was sitting beside her in front of the big, dirty mirror they had hanging on the wall. The only remnants left of Katya was a red smudge on her chin from the copious amounts of red lipstick he smacked on. Only Brian was left, and he looked incredibly solemn. Trixie kept on staring at him whilst wiping at her own face with a stack of makeup wipes, hoping that her piercing stare would prompt her friend to finally give her the ‘okay’- mark she was subconsciously craving.

Finally, Brian looked over – a cold look on his face. “Oh.” He replied, before returning to wiping the persistent lipstick off of his face.

“What do you mean, ‘oh’? That’s all I get?” Trixie asked, now mildly annoyed.

“What do you want, Bri?” Brian asked, an uncharacteristically stern tone in his voice that sent chills up Trixie’s spine. “I don’t know, maybe something that doesn’t make you sound like I just asked you to kill your own mother?” Trixie propositioned, hoping that they could turn this around before it got any worse.

“Sorry if my response isn’t what you were expecting, but that’s what you’re going to get.” Brian continued, not letting up. As he had finished wiping away furiously at his face, Trixie watched as he pulled the tight dress he had bunched around his waist off of his torso. Usually, Brian would make some comment about his body, trying to kid around whilst he was half-naked, but now – he just grabbed his black t-shirt and quickly threw it on.

“Why are you so upset?” Trixie muttered. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know the answer, however – because in reality, it had been on his mind from the start.

For a minute, Brian’s eyes softened as he looked over at him. “I’m sorry, but I think we are about to have a fight. I’m going to say some harsh things now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to apologize for them once they’re out. Do you understand?” He asked calmly, to which Trixie could only nod, the final strand of makeup now gone from his face – and so, the masque he could hide his feelings behind.

“Honestly, I just don’t want you to play dumb. You know exactly what’s going on. I feel like you’ve been taking advantage of me, and that fucking sucks.” Brian continued solemnly, sadness washing over his face.

Bri instantly flew into defence mode, which was something he had been hoping to avoid; only because he knew how he acted once he set himself up like that. He tore the large, blonde wig off of his head and then put his own colourful Trixie-t-shirt back on. “Don’t you think it sort of takes two to tango, Brian? We knew what we were setting ourselves up for, and you have said in the past that you think we wouldn’t work like that. We’re so different.”

“Sure, we took this whole ‘Trixya’-thing too far, but you’re not the one that the entirety of our fans has labelled as love sick. And the worst part is that they’re not wrong. You knew that when you let me cuddle and kiss you. You’re just afraid to admit the fact that you like me too, which is why you’re rushing into this whole thing with your supposed boyfriend.” Brian rambled on, his large eyes now blown out, making him look slightly bewildered.

Bri sighed, standing up to put his jeans on. The ‘other’ Brian wasn’t wrong. In fact, he was probably one hundred percent right in his assessment. He had tried to dial down the boundary-blurring things they did, but still let the older man do some things that would grant him the closeness both of them craved. Jack had been incredibly understanding, thinking that was just how their friendship worked; and had promised that he wouldn’t get jealous unless they continued their probably inappropriate ways when they were boys.

“Don’t bring him into this. You know why this can’t work, and that’s all I can really tell you. You’re too impulsive, give it another month or so and you’ll have found someone else to claw onto.” Bri snapped. He was not into having this conversation anymore. However, once he saw the look on Brian’s face, he immediately regretted his harsh words. He could see all of the hurt and defeat flash across the blonde man’s features, along with the fact that tears were beginning to dwell up in his eyes; threatening to roll down his flustered cheeks. Bri zipped up his pants and then ran a hand through his short hair. Shit. A tear ran down Brian’s cheek, making the younger queen immediately plummet into action.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He pleaded, watching the Russian impersonator furiously wipe the tears from his cheeks. Brian Firkus had never seen his friend cry before, only on a video he put up on periscope. Katya never cried, and now, he had caused it. He took a tentative step towards his friend, who had begun stuffing things into his black backpack. Brian snapped his head to look at him, the look he gave him was enough to step off. Instead, he just watched as his, perhaps former, friend took all of his belongings and stormed out of the dressing room.

What had followed after that was dreadful to even think about. Trixie had been forced to simply watch different videos and pictures Katya posted of her and their friends, specifically Alaska. Whilst she knew that even after Katya had seemingly decided to start talking to her again, she had no right to question the amount of time her friend spent with the reigning Drag race-queen. She had to tread carefully, all was still not right. Trixie was still seeing Jack, so there was that. Katya told her when they made up over the phone that she had no interest in discussing their fight again, because she felt like it would only lead to another. Trixie was also, under no circumstances, allowed to bring up the feelings Katya had had for her. Despite the fact that she desperately wanted to, for reasons she could both admit to herself and those she couldn’t – she needed to respect her friend’s conditions so that they could start building their relationship up again. Because the bitter truth was that Trixie was nothing without Katya. She could pretend that since she had only really known the other queen for a slightly limited amount of time, going back to her old life would be simple. But it wasn’t. No matter how she tried, there was no getting past that fact.

Realizing that she had spent too much time in her own mind, she snapped out of it and met Katya’s amused face. “I zone out like that too, at times. Usually, it’s because I’m imagining a world where I get to lay on the hood of a car and scout for extra-terrestrial connections.” Katya reasoned, a small smirk playing on her red lips.

Trixie rolled her eyes, trying to push aside the lump she had in her throat. “I thought we were officially closing the ‘Contact’-chapter for good.” She remarked, making Katya beam at her. “I’m proud that you got that reference. But yes, we’re about to start recording next week or something. So, I’m going to have to try and balance the podcast with Alaska along with the thing we’ve got going on here.” Trixie watched her friend idly as she informed her of the new business plan she had got going on with Alaska.

What Katya didn’t realize, was that her ramblings were actually multi-facetted. How were they going to balance their ‘thing’ with the booming friendship Katya had going on with the queen that had beat her to the crown? Trixie was jealous of them. Jealous that Alaska got to experience what an uncomplicated relationship with Katya was like. Trixie had spent several nights, after Jack had fallen asleep, scrolling through videos and pictures of them – also noticing that after they had gone to Aspen together, Katya had started to comment Alaska’s pictures in the exact same way she had commented on Trixie’s. It seemed like such a trivial thing to get hung up on, but she couldn’t help herself. She was now completely and utterly obsessed with finding out what was going on.

“Okay, well, as long as you don’t spill all of the T with her and save some for me.” Trixie made a half-assed attempt of a joke. Katya smirked and replied light-heartedly: “Of course not. You should be happy; I’ve actually succeeded in making her watch Contact and she liked it. Now, I can transfer all of my admiration for Jodie Foster onto her.” She stretched her thin arms out in a bow as she headed over to her fridge. Trixie had finally gotten around to visiting her new apartment, but had hoped in light of their conversation that they were in a more neutral place then Katya’s small kitchen table.

Her friend’s words didn’t make her feel any better than the fact that she had been in full Tracy-mode for the entire day now. They had headed straight to Katya’s after filming some videos at WOW-presents. Hearing that Alaska had already proven to be a remarkably better friend than she was wasn’t making anything better. “You say that, but I still haven’t been able to convince you that watching Disney movies is a perfectly acceptable way for any grown man to live.” Trixie retorted and accepted the Snapple Katya handed her before the other queen sat down. “They are filled to the brim with misogyny and a bunch of white people, and I’m not here for any of that.” Katya determined. Trixie chuckled and agreed with her, it was true – whether she wanted to give up her childhood or not.

Trixie dwelled in her own mind for a bit, trying to contemplate what Katya had just told her. Her mind was running crazy with different scenarios of how all of this could turn out. The most prominent one was where Katya told her that she had decided to make it official with Alaska, and Trixie would just stand idly by whilst everything transpired. No, she couldn’t do that. She hoped that what she was about to say wouldn’t be interpreted as anything close to the boundary Katya set for them, but she had to say it regardless: “So, is there anything going on with you and Justin?” she asked innocently whilst sipping on her drink. She peeked under her heavy lashes at Katya, and noticed that the other queen had crossed her arms and now had her head cocked to one side. “Would it matter to you if there was?” Katya shot back, and Trixie realized that she had walked straight into a trap.

“No, of course not.” Yes, of course it does.

“Good to know.” Katya answered, casually shrugging. It was clear to Trixie that Katya was toying with her, wanting to know what she would do. She realized that whilst she had changed into her boy clothes, she still had on a full face of makeup. “Do you mind if I go get cleaned up? I need to get out of this face before I become it.”

Katya let out one of her asthmatic laughs that Trixie had learned to love so much, and then gave her the ‘go ahead’. Once Trixie returned, Katya had slipped into a pair of black jeans and one of her own merch t-shirts. “So, how’s Jack then?” Katya asked in such a way that Bri knew she really had no interest in it whatsoever, but felt like she was at least obliged to try.

He sat down again and sighed before he answered: “It’s good. I guess. We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want …”

“Hey, we’re threading on dangerous territory here, my silly goose of a friend.” Katya warned, and wagged a thin finger at him. “Besides, apparently I’m hooking up with Alaska now – so you’re off the hook.” She added.

Bri rolled his eyes, silently cursing at himself for ever having brought up the Alaska thing. “On that note, I need to get going. But we’ll see each other tomorrow, I guess? Ron said to be at the studio at like ten or so, we’ll be shooting something for some ‘mean comments’ video whilst we’re there.” He explained whilst he headed over to where he had tossed his jacket and boots.

Katya followed him until he was at the front door, peering into the other queen’s eyes. For some reason, the distance between himself and Katya seemed less and less. Then, Katya did something she rarely ever did; she engulfed him into a deep hug. He held tight, relishing in the opportunity of being close to his friend. “What’s this for?” he asked jokingly whilst stroking her back in small circles with his hand. He could feel Katya’s mouth get closer to his ear – her calm breaths sending yet another wave of chills down his back.

“I just figured you needed it, Barbie. And by the way, Justin has a boyfriend.”

For some reason, her words sent a jolt of joy through his entire being. He knew then that what was about to happen was something he would probably grow to regret in some way, but he couldn’t control himself. Not anymore.

He leaned his head back and stared straight into Brian’s eyes, the barrier that Katya provided melted away before him. The other man just stared straight back at him, signalling that he too knew what was transpiring. Bri took a deep breath before he closed the distance between them, crashing their lips together violently. He tore Brian’s wig off - thankful that he still didn’t glue down his lacefront-, and then followed suit on removing his shirt.

He proceeded to spin them around and press Brian against the door, making quick of grabbing his hips and hoisting his thin legs around his waist. The kisses between them held everything that they had gone through in the last couple of months. Every fight, regret, anger, lust, passion was in there, but first of all – the love. Bri moved down to place sloppy kisses onto Brian’s neck, relishing in the gasps he emitted from the Faux-Russian impersonator. He was just about to take things to the next level when he heard Brian’s voice: “Baby? We need to stop.”

Bri instantly tore himself off of his neck, having left ugly hickeys down Brian’s entire throat. He would need to apologize for those later. For now, he settled on just making sure that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, he knew that there was a lot wrong with what they had done, but he hoped that his sudden burst of passion hadn’t hurt the other man.

His makeup was now all over his face, which for some reason made him look even sexier. Bri was sure that he had some of that red, hooker lipstick on him as well. “I don’t want to be some home wrecker. That’s not how I want this to start.” Brian reasoned, still gasping for air from their rendezvous.

In all honesty, neither of them wanted that. He was the one that had cheated, and he needed to deal with that, but there was no point in dragging Brian into all of this. “I’m sorry.” He said in a puny little voice, hoping that he hadn’t ruined things between them yet again. Brian’s gaze softened, and he reached a hand out to cup his chin. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not. You have to decide for yourself what you should do, but just know that I’m here. I still want you. All of you, man and lady-man. This is what I was waiting for you to do when we weren’t speaking.”

Bri smiled, and managed to squeeze his lips down to kiss Brian’s pale wrist. “I know. I always knew, I just wasn’t ready. Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Brian smirked, and then stated jokingly: “I’ll be having words with you later about those bruises I’m sure are residing on my neck by now. Bye, Tracy.”

“Bye Kathy.”

Before he knew it, he was out of the door. The biggest question now was what the hell he was going to tell his boyfriend. It wasn’t like him to cheat, but for Brian, he hadn’t even cared. That was what he had to focus on, because this would be the only chance he had left to make it right between them.

He needed to take that chance.