#I still will reblog stuff myself here too; just I like to keep it clean ya know???

[siixkiing]

You know the one update I’d actually enjoy tumblr? UNLIMITED QUEUE.

[beartitled]

Can you do some more comics with Francis mosses

I can, but the problem is

That I’m pretty much out of ideas and I’m progressively getting tired of tnmn fandom

Ppl who look at my tags probably noticed that 😓

More of my thoughts under read more for curious ppl

(short answer maybe I will do more, but I desperately need a break from tnmn)

! Just a general warning: this came out kinda long + sort of venty

Originally I planned to do 1 comic drop and move on, but got stuck bc ppl liked tnmn comics and kept asking for more (and still do-)

Generally I don’t mind doing more if the ideas are there, but I want to address this: I’m tired

I know blowing up is usually a good thing and I appreciate people enjoying my stuff

But it’s exhausting to see that tnmn is the only type of content which is relevant, to the point that my own projects or stuff I enjoy are just kinda.. ignored

It’s fair – again my blog is heavily fandom based

(+Tsp were and still is kinda the focus)

But with tnmn fandom it’s a bit… different

Maybe I’m biased and it’s just my negative experience with tiktok comments

Remember this art?

cleaning up transphobic comments was.. um tough

Again, I get that you can’t be in that neat bubble completely sheltered from negativity

Humans are just assholes by nature really/j

So I was expecting the backlash, but not that much

I think maybe tsp fandom spoiled me a bit (in a good way), bc I got a feeling that everyone in tsp was positive of any lgbt+ headcanons and just generally more supportive

(don’t get me wrong, there ARE problems in tsp community too, taking narrators design controversy into account as one of the examples)

Obviously every fandom always has it’s own issues, show me at least one fandom that didn’t have some sort of meaningless controversy or some sort of problematic people in it

It happens

But it leaves a bad taste in your mouth sometimes

And for me personally it only added to not so pleasant experience

The thing I also noticed, when I interacted with other fandoms

Ppl wrote positive stuff first and foremost, not really asking for anything

Here it’s just “hey more. I want more. Do more. Do this character. Do this. Do more.”

The only reason I kept doing more, because likes, reblogs, views – these comics get a ton of attention

there is a audience to please alright

But this thing comes with a pressure tho

and it shows

so let me illustrate

This bookcase

Is my shame

Because I was so rushing, I just copied and colour corrected this bookcase from my diploma comic and pasted it here in hopes for the best

💥IT LOOKS HORRIBLE OKAY💥

Usually it’s normal to take materials used in other projects

the not so normal part is

to leave it like that because your stress reducing tea doesn’t work and you don’t really have time to redraw it

my m en ta l s t a t e i s f i n e ah ah h ah ah

Ok but jokes aside: it’s really tempting, to just abandon everything and produce content like some sort of content farm

But I don’t want to, I’m forcing myself and it makes my art worse

Yes it’s subtle, new people won’t even see this

But I’m not improving

And I don’t enjoy just anxiously popping out comics because everyone keeps asking

I can give it my all to something when I’m passionate, but just “hey I’m getting attention” is not the best motivator

Attention like that does get to my head, I know that I will probably give in again and do more, bc I will compare my posts engagement

But what’s the point of recognition, when you feel.. so numb about it…

Sorry for a mountain of text and thank you for ppl who actually took their time to read it

It’s been building up for a while and I feel like people need to know the reason why I’m not so enthusiastic about making “more”

I’m not necessarily completely abandoning this fandom

I still plan to do ask/suggestions event for STP (I’m just making sure I can dedicate my time to it, that’s why it’s taking so long) and I can add tnmn to the mix

Like STP+tnmn kind of deal

But for now – I need a break

At least for a little bit

[hopepetal]

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Four!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Impulse fell back into control of his own body in the same way one snapped out of a particularly long ADHD-induced dissociative state. Panicked, unthinking, and wondering how much time has it been? 

The book was still burning as Impulse instinctively reached out to snatch it from the flames, only fully processing a moment later that maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed something that was still actively on fire. With a cry of pain and shock, Impulse dropped the book onto the ground as the rain began to beat down more heavily. Stumbling back, he tripped over his own feet and fell, landing with a soft noise of pain as he held his injured hand close to his chest. 

For a moment, he sat there, the small fire put out by the heavy rain far too late. A fear the likes of which he had never felt before sat in his chest, causing his heart to race. 

What just happened to me? Is it going to happen again? My hand hurts I need to get it bandaged I need to TELL someone I can’t tell anyone what if it happens again what if I lose control and hurt someone what if– 

“Impulse?”

Once again, he was yanked from his spiraling thoughts by someone calling his name. Turning around perhaps just a bit too quickly, Impulse looked up to see Scar, sopping wet from the rain, standing behind him. “Scar,” he breathed out, equal parts relieved and terrified. “Scar, are you– are you okay?”

Scar frowned, his eyes immediately landing on Impulse’s burnt hand. “I… think I should be asking you that, Impulse. C’mere, we’re gonna get that all fixed up.” He carefully helped Impulse to his feet. “I’m not gonna ask what happened,” he began as they walked back to the main camp through the rain, “so don’t worry about that. But…” He sighed. “Just… Impulse, I– we– don’t want you to be suffering alone. We’re knights. We’re friends. We’re in this together.” 

Impulse nodded, trying to swallow that stubborn lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Scar.”

Mumbo, wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella like any normal person would, waved to the two when they approached the tents. “Did you get caught in the rain?” he shouted, if only to be heard over the downpour. 

“No,” Scar called back, “we’re just naturally this wet!” 

“Oh, okay! Um, Grian and Pearl aren’t around, because, well, you know. Their wings,” Mumbo tried to explain, “their wings don’t– why am I explaining this to you, you both know this, goodness gracious…”

“Thanks Mumbo,” Scar said anyway, “are you gonna get inside? I don’t think this storm is gonna let up any time soon.” 

Mumbo shook his head. “This is actually the perfect time for me to study the possibility of harnessing lightning for power! Theoretically, it could work, but theoretically it could also blow me up. And to be honest, I can’t wait to see which one it is.”

“Have fun!” Scar called after him, before leading Impulse to the swaggon. Instead of tents like the other knights, he usually just stayed in the same place he did before joining the knights. “I have bandages and burn stuff here, because goodness knows I burn myself plenty when cooking. Just sit down right there…” He quickly rifled through one of his chests, before pulling out clean bandages and burn ointment. “Aaand I should have some water– how are you feeling, by the way?– here it is!”

As Scar helped Impulse cool the burn and clean his hand, Impulse was at a loss for words. Scar seemed to take note of that after a few minutes of him being unresponsive to the attempts at keeping the mood light hearted, and continued to silently bandage the treated burns. 

“I’m sorry,” Impulse began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Scar chuckled softly, understanding shining through in his eyes. “I think I’d know that feeling better than anyone, Impulse. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know I’ve done more than my fair share of… poorly thought out things… in the past.” 

Impulse had to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I can think of a couple more memorable ones,” he admitted, “but I just… I dunno, Scar. I…” He sighed. “What would you think if I wasn’t human?”

Scar didn’t even pause. “I mean, Impulse, we’ve been over this a million times before. If you weren’t human, none of the knights would be.” He began to put away the bandages, ointment, and leftover water. 

Impulse frowned, shaking his head. “That’s not…” He flexed his right hand, testing to see how much he could move still, before placing it back in his lap. “What do you think of me now?” he pressed, looking back up at Scar.  

Scar smiled, turning back to Impulse. “Oh, that’s easy. You’re strong, kind, passionate, smart, a really good teacher, an amazing fighter, you’re funny, you’re creative, and just… you’re a great friend.”

“But what if I wasn’t…” Impulse tried to figure out how to word the question, bouncing his leg slightly. “What if I wasn’t just me?” 

Scar thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, I don’t think there’s any problem with bein’ that! And, Impulse…” He sat down so that he could be at Impulse’s eye level, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward. “You’re making it sound like there’s something wrong with being human.” He smiled kindly, but there was something that stopped it from reaching his eyes. “That’s what this is about, yeah? I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. With everything going on…”

Impulse shook his head, interrupting Scar. “No, no, no, there’s nothing wrong with being human! I just… what if the me I am isn’t good enough?”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Oh, Impulse.” Scar’s voice broke slightly on his name. “You are more than enough. You have always been. I’m so happy you’re one of my friends, a part of my life, you…” He took a deep breath, in and out. “If you could see the things you’ve done from an outside perspective, you’d see it– just how much you’ve changed and impacted lives. I…” he trailed off, caught for a moment in a fleeting memory. “I can say for a fact I’ve changed for the better since I met you. So please don’t ever say or think that you aren’t good enough. Because you are. Because you always have been.”

Impulse tried to blink away the tears that suddenly were welling up in his eyes, but it was too late. His vision blurred, and the next blink sent salty drops falling from his eyes to make dark spots on his fresh bandages. It was as if the dam burst with that, and tears began to fall in a steady stream as Impulse’s shoulders shook. 

All this pain, all this fear, all the self doubt and anxiety… and he wasn’t alone. He had never been, really. If it hadn’t been for him shutting the other knights out, he wouldn’t have ever ended up with a demon in his mind taking control whenever it wished. But now…

“Thank you, Scar,” Impulse got out, furiously wiping his eyes. “I… I think I needed to hear that.”

Scar nodded. “Of course. I… I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I knew more to help you. But just… talk to us, okay? Or, gosh, I don’t know– talk to someone, at least! We won’t be able to help you if we don’t know you’re hurting.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Impulse wiped away what he hoped to be the last of his tears, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “I– I will. I promise I’ll talk to you guys more. And I’m really sorry about all of this.”

Scar waved his hand. “Ah, don’t be. We all have our moments.” He smiled tentatively. “Do you want to stay here with me and wait out the storm? We can make bets on if Mumbo’s new experiment blows up or not.”

Impulse grinned– a real, happy grin. “Sounds great.”

–

Somehow, things got better.

The first day Impulse woke up feeling well-rested, he could hardly believe it. But it continued to happen, again and again, until finally he was waking up at a much more normal time. 

“For you, maybe,” Grian had said, but the clear relief in his expression over Impulse’s “recovery” had taken away any snark intended. 

Slowly, Impulse began to heal. Not only from the burns, but from the exhaustion and lack of appetite as well. The animals seemed to forget all about their previous distrust of Impulse, though Jellie still was a little wary. He didn’t really mind, of course. The joy he felt from being able to settle back into his life again was enough.

The other knights were thrilled, too. It was like a fog had been lifted from the camp, and everything just felt… lighter.

“Alright.” Pearl interrupted the lively chatter during lunchtime about two weeks later, “we’re unfortunately getting a little low on vegetables and some other supplies. It’s been a while since Impulse and I brought back everything, and I don’t want it goin’ bad, ya hear?”

“Soup day?” Mumbo piped up, eyes wide. They’d all heard this speech a million times, and it was always something the knights looked forward to. 

Pearl nodded, smiling. “Soup day.”

“I don’t know why we call it soup day,” Grian mumbled, “it really ends up more like stew, if you ask me.”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Because, goofball, it’s tradition! And also, soup sounds nicer than stew.”

And so, Impulse found himself paired up with Scar, who kept watch over the pot and stirred while he chopped vegetables. 

“Whew!” Scar wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning away from the fire. “It's been a while since I've cooked. I forgot how hot everything gets!”

Impulse laughed. “Yes, that tends to happen with fire. Shocking.”

“Oh, you hush!” Scar grabbed a large spoon, waving it sternly in Impulse's direction before turning back to the pot. “You just keep cutting those veggies, mister.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Impulse turned back to the cutting board, reaching for the knife that lay beside it. 

Do it.

Impulse froze. His hand stopped where it was, hovering just over the knife. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. He had to calm down. He was– he was just hearing things. Nothing was wrong. He was fine. The demon was gone. It had to be. It hadn’t spoken in weeks. Why would it show up again now?

Impulse picked up the knife, placing a washed and peeled carrot on the cutting board. He began to cut the carrot into thin slices with deft hands. In the background, he could hear Scar humming to himself as the fire crackled. 

It's just you and him. Alone. The words were like a fog settling over his mind, like icy hands gripping at his heart. An easy target.

Impulse's chopping stilled as he tensed up, before starting to cut again. His movements were sharper, harder, and one of the carrot slices flew off of the table. “Gosh–” He set the knife down, bending to pick the carrot slice up and throw it away. 

“You good, man?” Scar called from where he stood beside the fire, not turning to look away from the pot. “Havin' some troubles?”

He has his back to you.

“Nah,” Impulse joked, though his tone was a bit forced. “Just underestimated my own strength.” He straightened back up, gripping the edge of the table with his hands. 

No. No, no, no no no no. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not now. Not after he’d finally started to be happy again. 

The voice cooed softly in his head, a persuasive siren song. It would take nothing at all to kill him. Impulse found his hand drifting toward the knife, unable to stop. To stab him in the back... He picked it up. Somehow, this was different from the possession. Yes... feel the thirst... spill his blood–!

The demon wasn’t making him do anything. This time, it made him want to.

“No!” Impulse breathed out, stumbling back. He threw the knife down on the table. “Sorry, Scar. I gotta go. I'll tell Grian to come out and help you.” 

Impulse fled, not sticking around to hear Scar's confused “Wait–!”

–

“...just worried, is all. I know you see it too. It’s like whatever happened–”

Whatever conversation Grian and Pearl were having before Impulse interrupted had probably been important by the sound of it, but Impulse didn’t really have the time to feel guilty about that. Panicked, he looked back and forth between them both, still panting slightly. “Grian?” he got out, trying to force his voice to stay calm, “Grian, I need you to go help Scar. I– I can’t…” He trailed off as he realized just how stupid this all sounded. 

Pearl took a step toward him, her face unreadable. “Are you feeling alright, Impulse?” she asked, and after a moment, Impulse swallowed and nodded. “Are you sure, mate? You’re looking awfully pale.”

Grian said nothing, but Impulse noticed how his wings had slightly spread out, colourful feathers slightly puffing up. Grian had never been surprised by anyone before– he somehow always knew when someone was coming. So unless he had been angry at Pearl for some reason (which, thinking about it, wasn’t all that unbelievable), it had to have been Impulse who had set him off. 

…right?

Impulse just tried to smile and nod. “Um. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes kept drifting back to Grian, which Pearl noticed.

She turned to Grian and smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey. Birdbrain. That’s Impulse, mhm? Our friend? Pull yourself together, goodness gracious.”

Grian blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Oh– was I staring? Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” His wings slowly folded back behind him, and he lost the alert posture. “Sorry. What was happening?”

“Nothing,” Impulse got out. “I’m good. I promise.”

Pathetic. He was pathetic. It wasn’t even that long ago when he’d had that conversation with Scar about reaching out, and being more open with the other knights. Guess this was just another thing he managed to screw up instantly. 

Impulse began to back away from the two. “The uh. The soup! Yeah, the soup’s almost done. I’ll see you guys at dinner…?”

Pearl smiled, if only to put him at ease. “Of course. See you at dinner, Impulse.”

Impulse began to walk away, and it was only when Grian and Pearl started talking again in hushed tones was he reminded that the contract with the demon gave him enhanced hearing. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to invade on their privacy–

“I told you. You could see it in his eyes.” 

“Grian, not now.” 

…especially when this was clearly about him.

Impulse ran the rest of the way back to Scar, and was all-too relieved to see that Mumbo was there as well. “Hey. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Oh, it’s alright!” Scar called over to him, “we’re just about finished up, so don’t you worry!”

“I got to chop the vegetables,” Mumbo added, “but really, I’ve been thinking– it would be quite simple to just get an automatic…” He started to ramble about his idea of an automatic vegetable cutter, but Impulse found he couldn’t quite follow along as well as he’d hope to.

The demon was back. Or maybe it had never left. And not only could it speak to Impulse and possess him but it could influence him as well. 

Impulse was strong. He had trained all his life to hone his strength and skills. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t breathe underwater, couldn’t withstand a fiery blaze, and most certainly couldn’t teleport. But he was strong. In terms of pure physical strength, none of the other knights stood a chance.

And that terrified him. 

Dinner went by in a blur, and it felt as though barely a moment had passed by when Impulse laid down to sleep. He had been stuck in a sort of zoned out state ever since the demon had reappeared, and only now did his head feel more clear.

Today had been a warning. What happened with Scar– Impulse could’ve killed him. The fact that he hadn’t was frankly a miracle. But it would happen again. The demon would speak to him and he would pick up the knife and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself in time. 

Tomorrow.

Impulse would leave camp tomorrow, and he would run until he was far, far away from anyone he could hurt.

But for now, he needed to sleep.

[winke77e]

HI!

I'm back! Sorta! Mostly! lol

:: Summary :: -got housing assistance and got an apartment - got my kitties back! -my current job sucks and hurts my body, but I got a new one starting soon-ish :D -I don't have things set up to do art so idk when I'll be drawing again -Trying to work on my AO3 stories for now :: ::

Got housing assistance which helped me move out. Of course I got rid of EVERYTHING when I lost my last housing, so I have next to nothing in here. Moved out in June, apartment still mostly empty. Though, I saw some roaches so I really don't think I want to settle too much into this place. I want to move out at the end of this lease.

Since I'm a veteran, I have access to a lot of resources to help me. Special housing assistance for vets where I get my own case manager to help me put things together and manage my voucher. Another assistance program that gave me a budget for a thrift store shop that had a lot of furniture in it. So I got a desk, dining table, and china cabinet from that :D They also gave me a free bed, so I have a place to sleep. They ordered it from a nearby furniture store and bruh, it's so nice and comfy <3

I GOT MY KITTIES BACK! My meows! My babies! Had a hell of a time with the foster program they were in. One foster left and they told me I'd have to pick up my cats when I was still in the shelter and then my case manager and I had to work to get the program to just move my cats to another foster?? Like, bro! That's your job. Whatthefuck.

Food is still an issue though. Trying to set a budget up for my finances to eleviate my anxiety with that. Finished my Data Analytics Certification so I'm technically qualified for an entry-level position in that. Guys, I had SO much fun with that certification. I loved working with that data and sorting, cleaning, and reading it. yessssss.

Anyway

My current job is not great. The people are fantastic! I love my coworkers. It's just the job is a Starbucks Barista inside of a Kroger (nicknamed KroBucks). So it doesn't pay enough (which is a factor in getting housing assistance) and they don't have the goddamn anti-fatigue mats so my back, hips, legs, knees are starting to really hurt. Thankfully, my housing case worker told me of a job on the Veteran Affairs Campus which I applied for and got! Woo! It doesn't start for a while, since it's a govt job and we're waiting until the next budget cycle before I can start. Which people keep saying is around October.

Lastly, art stuffs. IDK where my drawing tablet is at the moment. It might be in a tote that I don't have here. It seems I've accidentally scattered out my totes so I'm trying to figure out where all my stuff is.

If anyone follows me on AO3, you may have noticed that *I've* noticed that I don't update in a regular manner. Which is something that *I* want to be able to do. So I'm going to work on writing out my stories in full before I start uploading them. Which IDK how long any of that will be. I'm most likely making the process harder on myself.

::

So there's the long update! I'll be stopping by on occasion just to see how everyone is doing and reblog stuff. In becoming homeless, I worked to reduce distractions and sources of stress, which included social media. So I don't really visit any websites often. Except youtube cuz I don't have cable or tv or dvds or anything at all.

Anyway! Love you guys!

[hadeon]

Ooc: quick update!

I'll be closing asks for a moment

I've been thinking lately to change the direction of this askblog..

I really want to focus more on lore, writing, making comics etc rather than answering asks.

I don't really like doing this, not anynore, and I feel pretty pressured about it... I never liked answering stuff, especially when all the asks are pretty much the same, most of them aren't even worth my time, and I'm getting bored of replying for the 50th time to "cool horns".

I don't enjoy making stupid doodles because I know my art is better than this, and feeling pressure of coming up with several of these a day when I want to be consistent, this is what made me have so many burn outs during summer.

Plus, I've been changing a lot of Ranler's lore. As you may know, I left the onceler fandom. And to be honest, I never left like Ran ever was a -ler... When I made him, I got several comments on how "people won't like him cuz he doesn't look like a onceler enough". And I don't care, because I never really saw him as one anyway, and I've been trying to force myself too much to include "lorax" parts in his backstory, trying to stretch everything so it fits, but it was never enough, people weren't satisfied and I also never was satisfied, I've always wanted to get rid of the "onceler mold", because I feel so restricted by trying to fit my characters in it, and it just doesnt fit with who ranler is.

I'm current spending a lot of time on rewriting his whole backstory, to finally make it feel right. Getting rid of the "lorax" elements is so freeing, I can't explain how much I'm enjoying writing his character now that I have 0 restrictions anymore.

So yea, I'll be closing asks for a moment. I'll maybe answer to the most interesting ones I still have in my inbox, don't be upset if I don't reply to all of them, I just want to do what feels right and what I actually like. When I'm done rewriting his lore, I may start making more serious posts on this blog, lore related, roleplays, fanfiction maybe, comics, etc... Asks will still be open then, but I will only reply to things that seems important, and the blog won't be an ask-only-blog but more like a general oc blog. Same thing for @ask-swordtail , if I'm not too overwhelmed, but at least he isn't as popular as Ranler's blog so the asks actually make sense, and I don't need to rewrite anything because he never was in the onceler fandom in the first place. I don't really know what I'll do with the other AU blogs, I'll see in the future.

Anyway thank you for listening to whatever this is, lol, I hope you understand<3 when I'm done I'll probably post the new toyhouse links and make another announcement, as well as cleaning up the old posts... Don't worry, if you want to keep an archive or something, I always reblogged anything I did on here on my main, so you'll still be able to find them if you dig deep enough.

-grem

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 31 End?

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Hummingbird 31

(All the TWs still apply: emotional whump, gore, confusion, drugged, despair, aftermath of self-harm.

Have to admit, over my personal journey throughout whumptober I had to realise I'm actually a creep. I didn't know, that I could tap into this genre of a creepy, manipulating, lying, emotional disfuncting whumper and that I do like to write about it sooo much.

Apparently I'm a creep, creeping myself out for being this creepy, that's just mad and y'know creepy.

For what it's worth. I'm sorry, Sam! Thankyou for reading, reblogging and liking. I hope you had some fun! So enough blabbering for now, please enjoy.)

Whole story starts here, if you like / previous

...

Only very shallow, but Sam was still breathing when Grey pressed his slack form into a bridal carry against his own chest and made long brisk steps into the ER.

Grey was sitting alone in the hallway. He couldn't share the waitingroom with all these desasterous creatures. This was about his hummingbird. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not constantly interruped by someone grabbing for a tissue, someone else clearing their throat, a child rustling a sweetswrapper, a toddler crying.

There was still a slight red shimmer under his own fingernails and inbetween the skin folds on his hands. He literally wasn't able to clean his hands from the blood of his little precious mess.

This was his fault. He was selfish. Caging his hummingbird, as delecate as he was, cutting his wings and then he let just him fade as a pink. Unintended, but that wasn't narrowing his guilt. For all he cared, it was fueling it.

The man was staring into a cup of coffee. The taste of it was as blend as his emotions. The former Doc Monty wanted to throw that ugly stuff against the wall.

He wanted to smag his boy for doing this to him and than he wanted to wrap him in an embrace and never let go. His eyes felt wet.

Someone settle on the chair beside him. It was a young nurse. She mimicked his posture and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees.

"He's in good hands." Her voice was sincere.

Grey swallowed, he turned the cup between his long fingers. Suddenly, it felt too heavy, he was afraid, he would drop it at any moment.

And then, finally a part of his burdon unleashed.

"You know, he's got a recently discovered heartcondition above all. But his psychosis, he's got for almost all his life. His mother married again and his stepfather... was a cruel individual and..." Grey made a pause, his shoulders shrugged in an attempt to finish that sentence, but he didn't. The nurse, Angela her name tag said, just looked at him, giving him the time he needed.

"Over the last year, he was so lost, he was constantly lashing out, couldn't cope. He needed to be sedated so often. But I just can't bring myself to put him into an institution...

He's still my... don't tell him, I said it out loud. He's still my little hummingbird." A smile in his distant eyes. Then his tone was clogged all of a sudden. "He is my responsibility. He needs me and I must confess, just as bad, I need him too."

Grey's eyes turned glazy and he gave her an apologetic look and a sad smile from the side, placing the cup of digusting brown liquid on the floor between his feet.

"Hummingbird? That's a... nice nickname..." 'for a grown man!' she thought to herself confused. But Angela wouldn't show her confusion, keeping a professional, but yet sympathic face.

"Yeah, I call him my little hummingbird since he was a kid, despite he's a big boy now. He was always so alive. Scattering to and fro, never stayed still for a second. Then life caught up to him and I, ...I wasn't there to protect him. I will never forgive myself for that..." Grey brushed his own left hand over his face. "..., but I also will never forget, how full of life, free and happy he was then, he used to be. Fast as lightling, always chatting and moving, and still so delecate and fragil, just like a hummingbird. My hummingbird." His eyes had drifted away, lost in thought, his look fixated on an invisible spot at the floor.

"That's so sweet." The nurse couldn't help the funny feeling this man gave her. But his explanation, the changing expression around his eyes, the smile, when he talked about his kid being alive. She just knew his feelings were genuien. And she could actually feel it too, because she was a mother herself. Sometimes she was annoyed, but mostly more than happy for the sheer endless supply of energy her little girls threw at her day in and day out.

Grey was talking again, his voice low. He didn't move his eyes from that invisible spot. "Delecate and fragile he surely is, my little hummingbird. How could he..." Grey swallowed strained. His hands covered his face in a swift motion.

It was hard to compare that broken, sedated soul just being stitched together in surgery, ever being something more than a pale shell of the person he apparently used to be, Angela thought. She had seen his father bringing him in. A pale ghost covered in heaps of his own blood. She wanted to say something, show her understanding and sympathy, but she wouldn't know what. Just the thought of her girls getting broken by life as it happened, took her breath away.

"I'm sorry." Sheepishly Grey brushed some unshed tears away, lowered his hands again and gave her a heartly, but sad smile from the side by tilting his head a little.

"Sometimes I have hope. Then he can cope and is almost... almost normal. You know what I mean. His medication is really working, helping him. But then all starts anew. Trashing and swearing and...

His heartconditon has gotten worse and so his head was even more screwed, y'know. The worst part of it all." The man swallowed again, it seemed his face lost a bit of it color all of a sudden.

"He actualy thinks, I am some psycho who kidnapped him. Keeping him captive. He thinks, he's being drugged to comply. Which makes it so hard for him to understand, that he actually needs his medication. He thinks all his medical files are forged and we're not even related." The former doctor pulled his eyes from the floor again and looked back at the nurse.

"It's really hard sometimes... actually most of the time. But I just want him to be okay. To finally see the life, I'm trying to put out for him... But I guess, you can't always have what you want, right." His shoulders shrugged, as if his last statement was about a special treat that was out, when he wanted to buy it. There was some kind of resignation in the man's posture.

Angela was inwardly shocked by his whole story. She wasn't sure, if she had really surpressed that flinch, when it overtook her. "I'm so sorry." What should she say to something heartbreaking as a son thinking his own father to be a madman.

×

Sam startled awake. He had been roaming around, just under the rim of consciousness for days it felt, which had only been hours. Now he finally broke through the barrier. "Take it easy." A soothing hand on his arm. A small hand. It was a nurse, smiling at him. 'He was tired, oh was he tired.'

"Hey there. Nice to have you back, honey. Are you in any pain?" The young woman was still touching his arm with her soft fingertips.

His neck just very slightly shook his head in an unconscious answer without Sam's active participation. His head needed some time to put the pieces, thrown at him, together.

The presence of someone else than Grey was something new. Still his mind wasn't able to catch up.

"Whxc." Scratched out of his mouth silently. Next thing he knew, she held a cup with a straw towards his lips, he accepted thankfully. "Sounds scratchy." A genuien blink from her bright green eyes. "My name is Angela. I'm a nurse and you're at the hospital, honey."

Sam blinked confused himself. He was really exhausted, trying to move into a more comfortable position on the bed. His left arm felt heavy, like a bolder was attached to it, preventing him from lifting it even an inch. He was cold, but not in any real pain. Yet, his arm felt kind of tight and numb, like someone was trying to pull the skin away in different directions, until it would rip apart.

"Whaa-t happnd?" Sam supposed, he knew what happened, but his memory was probably playing him, though. Cause, he couldn't be in a hospital, but it defentily looked like one. The nurse had a real name tag, he couldn't read, if it actually said Angela, but it looked genuien for all he knew. 'Wasn't he supposed to be dead?'

Her sad smile was melting the walls of the drugged induced stupor, she was nervous and changed the subject. "The doctor will have a look at you real soon, he can explain, honey. Till then, someone's here to see you, if you're up to it?"

'Who? would be? No one knew he was here. Where ever here was? No one knew, he was in the fangs of a maniac, for, for godsake he didn't even knew how long.' Sam wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill it all, but he was just too tired. Maybe, it all was but a dream, a nightmere to be precise. Maybe, he never left work, because he was pinned under a bolder or that cart never had missed him?* His head was foggy, as so often in the (recent?) past? "Who?" slipped over his heavy tongue.

"Your Dad." Her smile burned itself inside his soul. 'He... he had no Dad. Never had, never would... so who...?"

Their eyes locked, when Grey stepped into the room. Panic flared up. Sam's weak body jolted. The static beating in the background, he hadn't even really noticed before, because it had been lolling him into a soothing fog of warmth, rose to a hectic cacophony of unbearable noises.

"No no no no no. That's not. No." Sam's head shook frantically. He tried to get away, his left arm wouldn't cooperate. He ripped up his right from the bedding, but it was stopped forcefully. Shocked he stared at a thick leather cuff, binding it to the bedframe. A cuff, that almost looked like the one's Grey used to chain him to floor and ceiling. Uncomprehending his wide eyes looked up again, never understanding hospital policy and the more harming intention of preventing him from repeating the course of action, that had let him here.

"Wha...? why?" Pure and utter panic took a hold of him. He was struggling like a maniac, despite his blood loss and weakness. 'All of this should be over. All of this should have never been real at al.' The strength to fight, only fueled by adrenaline resulting from his panic attack was draining him too fast.

Still, his heart just acted out completely, only short frantic gasped remained of his so vitally needed attempt to breathe in. "No no no. You can't... believe... a thing... he says. Please. That's...not...NOT my Dad. That's not..."

A heavy tingling sensation appeared out of nowhere and jumped at Sam like a landslide, just pulling him with. A bunch of people surrounded his bed all of a sudden, different voices, instruments, hands on him, while an invisible force tried to lure him into a warm blanket of darkness. It was all too much in his fragile state. The hammering pain in his chest kind of ebbed away and Sam willingly surrendered to oblivion.

The commotion faded away, like a fog disolving, people cleared the room after some time. The nice nurse gave Grey an apologetic and very sad look. Her lips forming a silent 'I'm sorry.' Afterwards her mournful eyes went to the floor. Her hand brushed over Grey's shoulder short but gently, than she left.

Sam was drugged out of his mind, his misery and consciousness again. A soothing hand in his hair, he couldn't feel. "Sssch. I got you, my little hummingbird. We'll get through this."

Days passed. And attending nurses, as well as the responsable doctor all worried about Sam's mental state, beside the actual certainty, that he was in desperate need of a pacemaker.

But he apparently couldn't comprehend and he wouldn't really step out of the hazy, disoriented and incoherent space, in which his mind seemed to be imprisoned.

The times, he was coming close to reality were hard on everyone. Between unconciouness, sleep and nightmeres, he tried to convince them, that he was actually a captive by the man, who was only imposing as his father.

It was highly unsettling, but every other reassuring look at his records confirmed, that unfortunately the his head really wasn't screwed on right. A sobbed and hardly audible statement, that kind of sounded like “I thought I was getting better.” from his part in a semi-conscious state only backed up the cruel reality. Had anyone listen closly, it had sounded more, like a desperate wish for 'I thought, IT was getting better'.

And yet, nurse Angela couldn't shake this ichty feeling 'his Dad' gave her. Or seeing the fear in this young man's eyes, whenever he was alert enough, to have some part in their reality.

×

The nurse was anxious. She kept the chart tight to her chest, not for anyone to see. This was really bad. She had paged Dr. Warron, but he was kept by another patient for now.

When he finally made his way down the corridor towards the nursing station seversl minutes later, she practically jumped out of her chair and all but flew over to him. Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest storage room. "Angy, what do you..." "DOCTOR!" She forcefully interrupted him. "I believe, the young man is right and really being held hostage by the man calling himself his father." She was excited and nervous, but Warron wanted to block every attempt. "Angy, we've been through this. Your gut telling you, you don't like his old man, is not a clinical expertise for a mental case."

"Something doesn't add up, doctor. The 'kid' is here about a week now and his toxscreen is through the roof. Look at this. All these substances shouldn't be in his blood. Actually these combinations shouldn't be in anyone's blood. When he came in, okay, but neither of us had adminstered these drugs, look." She practically shoved the chart into his face.

It was something the the yoing man had said to her, she just couldn't dodge. It was running circles in her mind. He had been almost out of it again, but his pale cuffed hand had drilled itself into her coat and he had whispered into her ear, on one of those few moments, 'his Dad' wasn't nearby for once. "Please, compare our bloodtyps. He's lying. We can't be related. Pleas..." There were tears welding up in his eyes, but they were interrupted by that man entering again, letting waves of uncertanty flare up around Angela.

Dr. Warron studied the lap results, his expression darkened. "There's also something about their bloodtyps the kid said to me." Angela added. The doctor looked at her. His demeanor had changed, professionalsm and couriosity clearly shown in his face now, erasing the doubt.

"They wouldn't match. The kid's got 0-. But I couldn't get any information from "the father" (she made quotation marks in the air) "without raising any suspensions." An understanding nod was Warrons answer.

"I want someone with him at all times from now on. He's not to he left alone with that man anymore, who is apparently drugging him up under our noses. Call the authorities and I will have to make some calls regarding his medical records, his pretended father so openly provided. Dammit." His big hand squeezed her shoulder. "Good job, Angela. Thank you for being so stubborn."

They left the storage room and approached there taskes with brisked steps. Angela got hold of a collegue and was just about to explain, that said patient needed to be put under constant surveillance, when another nurse hectically made her way towards them. Her face was flushed, she was really upset. "He's gone."

Without any further explanation, Angela knew who was meant. She left her colleges standing and practically ran to the room, the 'suicidal boy' was supposed to be in, under the watchful eyes of his apparent father.

The room was empty, the bedding rumpled and a lonely cuff was chained to the frame of the bed, the other leatherstrap opened.

×

About 10 miles outside the city a tall man was steering his car towards the sunset. He was humming to himself. His big hand was bent behind the passagerseat. Long fingers ruffled through the young man's untamed hair. He was unconscious, laying on the backseat, his feet behind the driver, a thick white bandage around his left forarm sticking out under a blanket. The man behind the steering wheel took a quick last look to the back.

"No worries my little hummingbird. I'll find us a new home. Just you and me."

His hand slowly pulled away, his attention back to the road. He was humming again.

The End...?

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

[ceddrawing]

i’m out of a deep sleep, baby. just like that kid from kentucky in 2017 that slept for eleven days straight, or ash from the alternate ending to evil dead 3, or ataru from that one gag in beautiful dreamer.

i logged in for the first time in over four years and decided...sure. i’ll post here again. i need to clean up more than a few things on my page (including updating my username and bio, don’t know when i’ll do that LOL). expect an occasional art post of (marginally) better quality compared to what i left this site with, along with actually reblogging stuff. i know, it took leaving the site to finally think that using one of its key featues might be a good idea. twitter is still my default social media by a landslide, so don’t expect a *ton* of activity here, just know that i’ll be around every now and again.

it warms my heart to see so many positive comments on some of my old, early digital art. if you get the sense that i’m distancing myself from it a bit though, it’s because i would like to consider this return to be a sort of ~~~~new era~~~~. i feel like a completely different person than i was in 2018, so while i appreciate all of the positivity on those old posts and will leave (most of) them up for posterity, i’d prefer to keep taking strides forward, so don’t be surprised if you see that my interests have shifted a little, or that my typing disposition is a lot more, uh...genuine. i may be cringe, but i am nevertheless free. :3

i don’t feel that the change should be too awful dramatic, honestly. at least at first, LOL.

-ced <3 <3 <3

[vampirethin27]

Okay I did weigh myself on Saturday and Sunday, but they were both 100-102lbs and I was like... this doesn't seem right for some reason. Even though it was only 4 lbs, I figured I'd hold off on updating my weight on all my apps (MyNetDiary, Google Fit, my fitness watch, LIFE Fasting, workout app, etc.) until it was more consistently over 100lbs because I just had a weird feeling about it

I literally got my period 3 days later. A BITCH WAS RIGHT-

But uh I have absolutely been eating more than usual and more sugar and stuff. We have apple muffins, red velvet cake, cookie dough ice cream, vanilla ice cream, just a lot of sweets when we went shopping on top of all the fruits and veggies and juices. I'm gonna count it all as period weight and just make sure I'm drinking more water than anything and start to cut off the sweet tooth towards the second half of being stuck with good ol' Aunt Flow over here. I can lose weight fairly easily so I just kinda trust that I'll be closer to 96 by the end of the Post-Birthday Astrology Ritual I started that's 12 days long

I also do plan on being more active on this account, I swear, but if you read my post about my mother and I deep cleaning and moving my furniture around then you already kinda know that I'm redoing a lot of things in my life. I'm doing the same thing with my wardrobe, my friends, my routines, my products, and so I've been off my phone planning and journaling and drawing things up and on my tablet making things. I still find it funny when I do things like this AFTER starving myself again because my friend and I swear we become better people when we're mentally drowning in numbers, but I digress. I'm working out again starting today because I stopped when the temperatures dropped a couple months ago, and after I give my phone gallery a clearing out and reorganizing I'm probably just gonna look for more ED memes and thinspo to keep and I might reblog some, try to get back into the habit of posting things, scrolling, thinking. Honestly it used to be really meditative now that I think about it, which is a little funny

BUT OKAY this post is already way too long, just figured I'd give a long post with a few succinct updates to get everything out of the way, because I have had this account on the brain since yesterday evening.

Okay I'm gonna go plan my day and drink some water <33

[underrated-animanga]

Welcome to underrated-animanga!

Hello, everyone! This is a blog dedicated to lesser known manga/anime and the characters that come from them. Poll tournaments are probably the most exciting thing that will happen here, but there will be other content too, such as series recommendations and general posting about various series.

Click "keep reading" below for rules and news!

General Guidelines:

"Underrated" is admittedly subjective, but as a general rule, do not submit or request content for anything you know is popular. That stuff is great and all, but goes against the spirit of this space!

Currently, and for the foreseeable future, this blog is only for anime and manga. No western comics or shows. No video games. No live action adaptations.

All asks will be tagged #answered so that you can easily look to see if whatever question is on your mind has already been addressed. I'd prefer if you looked before asking, just to save us both time!

I may reject submissions if I have a moral objection to the series involved. While I don't believe there's any such thing as true "unproblematic" media, I'm still going to filter out anything I'm uncomfortable featuring on this blog. Sorry if something you love gets ignored because of this.

Don't be jerks to each other, whether it be in the notes or in the asks. Just don't. I'm not going to post asks provoking other people interacting with the blog, so don't even try it. Anything rude, bigoted, deliberately inflammatory, etc. will be deleted without response. Life's too fucking short, guys.

Tournament Guidelines:

During the submission period, make your submissions by sending an ask with the name of the character, what series they're from, and what tournament you're entering them in (if multiple are running at once). Example: Shuntarou Chishiya from Alice in Borderland for the sopping wet meow meow tournament.

As is pretty typical of such events, you're more than welcome to reblog polls with "propaganda" for your preferred contestant. As long as it isn't rude to anyone (including opposing fictional characters), I may even reblog it here.

Though I can't necessarily enforce this, please limit yourself to two submissions per tournament.

I'm bound to add contestants of my own choosing because I can. It's MY blog and I get to choose the blorbos.

Series Spotlight Guidelines:

TBA...!!

Upcoming:

Underrated AniManga Villain poll tournament

Series Spotlight guidelines and launch

A custom theme with clean navigation for those who prefer that experience (like myself)

[ghostoftheyear]

not looking for sympathy, just need to talk

so my living situation, which I thought was all right, is suddenly being ripped out from under me. I have lived in this apartment for 9 years, but my older cat (Aidan) has been pissing in a corner for far longer than I realized. Blame it on a combination of my lack of smell and inability to clean the litter boxes as often as they should be cleaned. Two years ago this caused the apartment office to start a recarpeting project in my apartment, because it was so bad neighbors were complaining. This was with my complete compliance. They did the main part of the apartment first (kitchen and hallways got new vinyl flooring, dining room/living room got new carpeting and all the floors were sealed as well), and then once I’d reset all that and cleared out the second bedroom, that was done too. The master bedroom has not been touched because this all requires a lot of physical effort on my part, but now it doesn’t matter anyway. I guess Aidan is still peeing in that same goddamn corner and the complaints are still coming in.

So my lease isn’t being renewed. I got a notice that I have to be out by May 31st. When I called (confused, as I hadn’t expected any of this), I was told about the continuing complaints. I honestly thought it would be better once the carpet was replaced and all the old marking smells were gone, but apparently cats are creatures of habit and Aidan just picked up where he left off.

I feel like this makes me out to be some kind of awful basement-dwelling gremlin who can’t keep anything clean. And in a way I suppose it does, since in our society, cleanliness is a mark of how “good” you are. And since I’m not “good” enough, I’m being kicked out. It doesn’t matter that I actually physically have almost no sense of smell and that I’m exhausted all the time and that even maintaining a regular job is something I have difficulty considering. As far as anyone else is concerned, I am not a capable human being. Because I’m not! I have a fucking disability.

Unfortunately, I have no documentation for said disability. I have no medication, no diagnosis, no doctor’s word. Not that anyone cares about mental disabilities anyway.

So all this means I have to find a new place to live -- which, at least is through the end of May, for some reason I thought I only had until the end of April and I’m glad I doublechecked. I want to find something more house like, if not an actual house, so that if Aidan starts this crap again I at least won’t have neighbors complaining about the smell. I’m finally looking for a job because it only literally just occurred to me to look for something simple like remote data entry. I’m not going to bother trying to take action against this place, because I just don’t have the energy. I’ve loved living here; it literally bettered my whole life to have a washer and dryer to myself and a dishwasher so all the dirty stuff wasn’t just piling up forever. I know now that I need those things to function. But it’s time to move on so I guess I’m moving on. I’m past panic mode and now I’m just trying to gather resources and find somewhere I can live.

This is why I revived my commissions post, btw, for all the good that did. Thanks to everyone who reblogged it. Wish me luck finding a new place.

[sysig]

Either I need to hurry up and clean out my blog or I need to just suck it up and do some rebranding before I’m totally happy with the state it’s in

[bewilderedbunny]

More line cook Eddie thoughts 🥞

(Thank you all for the love on part 1 💖 It means the world to me that people enjoyed it.)

This flirty fluff is just over 700 words, fem!reader although you could switch it from "his girl" to "his boy" or "his person" if you'd like!

Credit to @delishlydelightfuldividers for the divider (I needed some way to break up my erratic thoughts and I chose this honey one to match the breakfast theme)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Hey Eddie, can I please get a side of extra crispy bacon for this table?"

He frowns at you and looks around the kitchen dramatically, "Who's Eddie?" It takes you a second before you realize his game and reply, "Chef, can I please get a side of extra crispy bacon for this table?" A big toothy grin stretches across his face "Sweetheart, I'd give you the whole pig if you asked." As ridiculous as his joke is, it manages to give you butterflies.

Once the bacon is ready, you go to grab the plate from him and graze his hand with yours. You jump a bit at the sensation and he blushes and murmurs "You'd think I'd be used to touching hot stuff by now, wouldn't you?" he's such a dork.

One evening when it's especially slow, you're vacuuming the carpet. It's already spotless but you're just trying to find anything to keep yourself busy. Eddie is sitting on one of the stools, mindlessly twiddling with a toothpick. Once you make your way to where he's seated, he kicks out his foot in front of the vacuum. You look up at him, he's still focused on his toothpick and doesn't acknowledge your presence. You move out of the way and he does it again, still not acknowledging you as he tries desperately to hide his growing smirk. You turn off the vacuum.

"Do you need somethin', chef?"

He blushes the tiniest bit, still not looking at you.

"Nope, all good here sweetheart." He walks off to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a piece of toast.

You ignore him and continue working with your head down. You notice a line of crumbs in front of where you know you just barely vacuumed. When you look up, Eddie has his back to you as he makes a trail of breadcrumbs for you to vacuum.

You turn off the vacuum and ask him, "What are you doing?! Can't you see I'm trying to clean?"

"Honey I'm helping you! You were just vacuuming air." He still isn't looking at you. The fact that he's bothering you so much while simultaneously ignoring you is driving you crazy.

You roll your eyes and turn the vacuum back on. Once you do, he says something too quiet for you to hear since his back is still turned.

You turn off the appliance.

"What?" You ask

"Hmm? Don't know what you're talking about."

You turn the vacuum back on and he does it again.

"Eddie! Quit messing with me."

He finally turns to face you and crowds you. He's closer to you than he's ever been before and you're suddenly unable to make eye contact with him.

"I haven't even begun to mess with you, sugar."

One morning you are folding napkins and arranging silverware while sitting at the counter. Eddie sees you as he's walking by the kitchen window and smiles, he's over the moon that he gets to work with his girl today.

You glance up at him and give a smile and a wave. He gives you a little wave back and ducks out of view. He starts walking back and forth by the window, looking at you from the corner of his eye. When you finally look up, he starts doing that thing people do when they pretend they are going downstairs. You laugh at his silliness and he looks over at you. "Oh, I'm heading downstairs for a bit. You handle the fort while I'm gone, yeah?" You shake your head at him, covering your mouth to try and dampen your laughter. He comes back into view.

"Hey now, don't go hiding your giggles. Why else do you think I go around making an ass of myself if I didn't want to hear them?"

I mentioned to @greenishghostey in the reblogs for the last post that I love idea of you forgetting your lunch one day and Eddie grabs your order pad and pen and says, "Hi! I'm Eddie, I'll be your server today. Can I get you started with any drinks or appetizers? If you're ready to order, the chef recommends the hotcake special." he adds a silly little fancy accent to "hotcake special" because he is ridiculous.

Thank you for reading! 💕

[random-writer-23]

The pearl Guns (Jesper x F Reader)

A/N: Hello lovelies! Welcome to the first one-shot I'm publishing on this blog, this one was written pretty recently so it's probably going to be much better than the others I'll be posting on here of my past writing, but when I get to publishing more new stuff it'll hopefully be decent as well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and any comments, likes, shares, and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading! Word count: 3131 Requested: No Warnings: not really, just the usual Jesper flirting and just sexual tension but nothing other than that.

As a member of ketterdams socially elite, I was expected to behave like a perfect lady at all times of the day, whether it was at a dinner party hosted by my father, a traveling conference my father forced me to attend, art shows, or whatever else my father expected of me. My father was one of the biggest and richest merchants in the city and as a result, I being his one and only daughter had practically no say in my life. I had to be the perfect daughter in order to preserve his reputation. Which is why I am currently getting ready for a large dinner party my father is hosting.

"is it still too loose (y/n)?" My maid Magaret asked, referring to the corset backing of the dress I was wearing.

"Oh um, just a little tighter Margaret" I replied, feeling the tug of the ribbon on my back tightening my corset. "that's good" I responded when I felt the dress tight enough to support me. She tied it at the back and stepped away towards my vanity mirror where she started preparing to do my hair. I looked in the full-body mirror at the dress. It was an (f/c) dress that stretched all the way to my ankles. I gave a small spin while Margaret nodded her head approvingly.

"Alright, dear now sit down so I can do your hair" Margaret moved me to sit in front of the mirror and grabbed my hairbrush, beginning to brush my hair. Once she was done she patted my shoulder and I turned around so she could do my makeup. Once she finished she patted my shoulder and I stood up while she cleaned up my vanity.

"thank you, Margaret," I said as she helped me into my shoes.

"Of course dearie" she replied brushing my dress out straight and giving me a smile as she left the room. Margaret has been my maid since the day I was born, cleaning my room, feeding me, reading me stories before bed, taking me to school, and taking care of me when I was sick. She was more like a parent to me than my actual father is. After my mother passed he distanced himself from me. I always assumed it was because I am the spitting image of her. I took one last look at myself in my mirror, I looked like the ideal image of a perfectly well-behaved daughter, all that was left to do was to play the part. I exited my room and headed downstairs to stand next to my father as he welcomed people into the house.

"Please behave tonight (y/n)" My father whispered with an exasperated sigh, placing a stern hand on my shoulder. Which to others might have looked like a gesture of comfort, but I knew it was an order. I stood up straight smiling and offering to take our guest's coats making small talk with the ladies as my dad spoke to the merchants, directing them to a conference room where the merchant council was going to meet. While those not attending the meeting were directed to the living room to talk amongst themselves and enjoy the rest of the party. After the rest of the merchant council had arrived my father gave my shoulder a squeeze and walked off toward the conference room to participate in the council meeting. I was left to my own devices to wander around and keep the guests occupied and wanting for nothing. I wandered into the living room where everyone was chatting with each other. The band playing their music softly in the background. I smiled while chatting with some of the guests before, excusing myself to get a drink. I poured myself a cup of water refusing to let one of the servants do it for me and then exited the room squeezing past the waiters who were getting ready to serve trays of appetizers to the guests since the actual food wouldn't be served until after the council meeting ended. Smiling and nodded through the halls of people making small talk and giving hugs until I finally made it outside. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the guards posted at the door, who were no doubt ordered by my father to keep a close watch on me. Once I finally made it outside I took a deep breath and moved myself past the few guests who were lingering and chatting in the garden, toward my favorite spot. I sighed walking past the decorative rows of rose bushes, kicking a small rock along the path. The gazebo sat upon the highest spot in the garden, shining in the moonlight and overlooking the bay. Lifting my skirt I stepped gently over a puddle of mud and onto the hard floor of the gazebo. I looked around, finally out of view of the guards stationed at the door.

"man I hate these dinners," I said to no one, in particular, letting out a huff, I finished my drink and placed the empty cup on the gazebo railing.

"You and me both beautiful" A man's voice replied and I spun around to see where the voice came from.

"And who are you?" I asked backing up and holding the skirt of my dress up, in case I had to make a run for it. The man gave me a weird look before gesturing to his clothes.

"I thought it was a bit obvious that I'm a guard, love" He laughed, and against my better judgment I laughed as well.

"well, whose guard are you?" I asked calming down my giggles, "cause you can't be one of my father's I would have seen you around here before." I watched his eyes widen for a second before he composed his features and spoke.

"You're (l/n)'sF daughter?" He asked and I nodded in response letting go of the hold I had on my skirt and leaning up against the railing of the gazebo. The stranger's presence made me oddly relaxed. "how could someone as ugly as him make someone as pretty as you" He flirted with a wink and I blushed looking away from him.

"Why thank you" I giggled bringing my hand up to my face to hide my blush.

"and if you must know, I'm only a temporary hire. First time working here, brought in for the party" He explained and I nodded along. It wasn't unusual for my father to bring in members of the stadwatch for events and parties he put on. More security means fewer problems he always said.

"I see, well that explains why I haven't seen you around" I replied with a smile, "so you're a stadwatch guard I presume?" I asked moving away from the railing to sit on one of the gazebo benches.

"you could say that" He moved from the entrance of the gazebo to lean against the railing across from me, as he moved I snuck a glance at the guns holstered to his side.

"so if you're a guard, why aren't you, y'know guarding things?" I asked with a small smile.

"I am, I'm guarding you, the most important guest at the party" He declared "you don't know what kind of unsavory characters are lurking in your gardens" He lowered his voice and looked around animatedly. Making me laugh.

"I should have assumed my father would send a guard to tail me" I sighed dramatically before looking at the stranger slyly, "I just didn't know he'd be so handsome" I giggled, as a surprised look crossed the guard's face, he reached up scratching the back of his neck shyly.

"I don't think I can take so much flattery from such an angel" He smiled and fanned himself dramatically, which made me laugh again. We fell into a short silence as our laughter died down.

"if I may ask what kind of guns do you have," I asked partly wondering about his guns, and also just wanting to keep talking to this handsome stranger instead going back to the boring party full of stuffy noble folk and businessmen.

"Oh these?" He moved his coat aside to show off the one holstered on his left hip, and I nodded. He took it out of the holster and moved closer to where I sat, for me to see them. "They're zemeni-made" he explained. "and you see the handle?" he pointed at the handle which had a pearlescent look to them, so I suspected it to be pearl. "it's made of pearl" he confirmed my suspicions.

"That's what I thought it was!" I said excitedly prying my eyes away from the guns to look up at him, to see him already looking at me with a smile. I looked back at his guns quickly, my face heating up again. "what else?" I asked him, and he cleared his throat to continue.

"well they can fire up to 6 shots really quickly one after the other, and as for the type of gun they're revolvers" He held it out to me. "you can hold it if you'd like"

"oh, could I?" I asked positively beaming at the offer.

"of course" He responded with a chuckle, I stood up and took the revolver from him gently, and examined it.

"Now what's that?" I pointed to the middle of the gun where a weird-looking circle sat.

"That's the barrel, it's what holds the bullets" he explained and I nodded. "there's the trigger, that's what you press to shoot it," he said pointing to the trigger. "you wanna try shooting it?" He asked with a sly smile and I nodded excitedly. "alright, let's uhhhh aha" he said his eyes landing on the cup I had placed on the railing and had just about forgotten. He walked over and moved it to the middle of the railing. "Now back up a little" He walked back to me and moved to stand next to me. "that's it, and then since it's already loaded" He held my wrist gently and fixed how I was holding the gun "that's better, we're going to pull this right here to cock the gun, and now keep your finger off the trigger there, we're gonna aim first." He moved from my side to behind me and let go of my wrist moving his hand up my arm and stopping at my elbow. I shuddered as a chill ran up my spine "now straighten your arm, love" He said pushing my arm straight "that's it" I felt the hand not holding my arm come to rest on my hip. My breath hitched as my face flushed, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken when he spoke, I prayed he couldn't hear how loud it was. "Now point it straight ahead" he moved my arm so it was pointing directly at the cup on the railing. "and close one eye and look down at the gun, is it pointing at the cup?" He asked. I didn't really trust myself to speak so I nodded. "all right now when you're ready, fix your stance 'cause there's going to be a little recoil and I don't want you to fall. Widen your feet" I fixed my stance like he said, "there you go, now bring your finger to the trigger, don't pull yet" He shifted, his hand moving from my elbow back to my hand, fitting it snuggly in his, placing his finger over mine on the trigger. "you ready?" he asked.

"yeah, ready" I responded, trying desperately to control my racing heart. I felt him push my finger down on the trigger and heard a loud bang as the bullet shot out of the gun and hit the cup on the railing shattering it to pieces. I grinned as I realized I hit it, letting out a stream of giggles in my excitement. "I hit it!" I squealed moving out of his hold to jump around in excitement.

"I knew you would," he replied, and my smile faded slightly at the realization I couldn't feel his warmth anymore. "a little more practice and you'll probably be better than me" he added with a smile and I chuckled, looking at the gun in my hand I regretfully gave it back, and he tucked it away, back in his holster. I watched his movements carefully until I heard the distant sound of footsteps coming hurriedly in our direction.

"Oh no that'll be the other guards" I looked at him worriedly, "they probably heard the sound!" I said my voice rising in panic. "they're going to tell my father!" I whispered in horror mainly to myself.

"hey, hey don't worry, just uh... follow my lead," He said with a sly smile. I nodded turning to face the approaching guards who were now within eyesight.

"What's going on over here, we heard a gunshot. are you alright miss (l/n)" The taller guard asked us, holding his hand on his gun warily.

"That's my fault, I was trying to entertain miss (l/n) while watching over her" the stranger responded to him, as he stood at attention. I nodded my agreement.

"oh yes, my father instructed him to watch me, and he saw me out here alone. It's not his fault, I was curious about his guns, and asked if I could shoot one" I told the guards, and they nodded along.

"well alright miss (l/n), as long as there's no trouble we should be returning to our posts" the shorter one replied and they both gave me a short bow as I dismissed them. Once they were out of sight the man and I burst into a fit of giggles.

"that was close!" I laughed covering my mouth with my hand as I did.

"what do you mean you were a natural!" he exclaimed as our laughter died down, and we descended into a nice silence. I looked down at my feet clasping my hands in front of me as he cleared his throat. I looked back up at him for a moment meeting his eyes, as I smiled.

"oh I um, I never got your name," I said quietly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"well, you never asked for it love" He responded his face breaking out into a smile as he took a step closer to me.

"I'm asking now" I challenged, a matching smile appearing across my face, only then realizing how close we were.

"well then, Love my name is-" He was inturrupted by the grating voice of my father, shattering the calm between the man and I.

"(y/n)" I heard his voice, it sounded far off but I knew if I didn't go now it would get closer as he looked for me.

"I'm sorry, you were saying? your name." I apologized on behalf of my father and tried to resume conversation with the guard.

"next time love," The guard said with a sly smile, taking my hand and pressing a slow kiss to the top. "you best be off" he let go of my hand and the warmth of his kiss stayed with me as he left the gazebo. My eyes trailed him as he left and I went to find my father before he got any angrier than he probably was.

Dinner was served by the time I made it back to the house, and my father gave me a stern look that meant we'd be having a discussion later. I ate my dinner in silence, sitting next to my father, listening to the chatter of guests as they all spoke with one another.

It wasn't until late in the night when we bid the last guests a good night as they left the house, and my father turned on me.

"the guards posted at the garden door informed me of your little gunslinging," he said his voice level and steady. "what were you doing? hmm?" He asked sternly.

"I went outside for some fresh air and then started talking to one of the members of the stadwatch you brought in for tonight's party. The one you instructed to tail me tonight" I explained wringing my fingers as I avoided eye contact with him.

"What are you talking about? I didn't send anyone to watch you tonight, and I didn't bring in any extra members of the stadwatch for tonight's party" He said tired of this conversation already.

I looked at him shocked "but, the guard..." I trailed off at the look my father gave me, and he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"(y/n), it's been a long night, we'll continue this conversation another day, just go to your room" He demanded softly.

"but i- yes father" I responded not feeling up to protest. I made my way up the stairs and stopped at the top. "goodnight father" I said quietly.

"goodnight (y/)- " He hesitated cutting himself off in the middle of my name before speaking again. "goodnight (n/n)" he said calling me by the affectionate nickname he used to when I was small. My eyes watered as I turned away from him and continued down the hall to my room. He hasn't called me that since before my mom passed.

I laid in bed that night staring at my ceiling long after Margaret had left after helping me out of my formal dinner wear. Thinking thoughts about the stranger and why he would have lied to me, thoughts about his lies merged into thoughts of how gentle he was, and how warm his hands felt on my arms and hip. Those thoughts slowly turned into other thoughts, fantasizing about the stranger in ways that were most definitely not ladylike. Finally falling asleep to the comforting thought of when I would possibly see him again.

--Time skip--

The answer to that would be never. I looked for him at the next party my father hosted, and the next one, and the next one. But he was never to be seen at any of them. I asked stadwatch guards I met about the boy with the pearl revolvers and none of them knew. Eventually, my memory of the stranger grew faint. I couldn't remember the details of his face or the sound of his voice, but no matter how fuzzy the memory of my moment with the stranger got the warmth of the kiss he placed on my hand that night stayed with me forever.

~Fin~

QOTD: Who's your favourite crow?

Join my discord server: https://discord.gg/9bwRmtXCuB

AN: so originally this was supposed to be continued and much longer than it is here, but I just felt that it was a nice ending, so I cut out the longer version and ended it like this, however....... I still have the other version of this story, so I'm thinking of posting that version as well as keeping this version up. So let me know what you guys think. But I hope you enjoyed this. 

[sirowsky]

Bad Guy

Thank you for the prompt @deadhumourist It left me scratching my head all day, but it was fun!

The prompt was "Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy." with a Pedro character of my choice. And since I'm trying to challenge myself here, I went with Javier Peña, and perhaps didn't take the traditional approach to the prompt. Hope you'll still like it, sweets <3

(Prompt List)

Rating: Mature Warnings: Javier Pena x female reader, mentions of a gun, Javi being a little shit, but mostly just fun stuff. Word Count: 570 Author’s Masterlist

   “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s appraising jewellery, as he leans his backside against the nearest desk.

   You stop fiddling with the Colt 1911 pistol you’ve been oiling and cleaning, to meet his eyes and give him a hard glare, but his curious expression doesn’t change.

   “Does that mean I should stay away from you?” he continues, with a soft hum hiding somewhere in his voice.

   His eyes show you nothing but genuine interest, but your cynicism still manages to convince you that he’s being the obnoxious flirt, something you’ve observed him doing several times before, even though he’s only been here two weeks.    You have no doubt that he loves women, he makes little effort to conceal his desires, but he also seems reluctant to let anyone come too close, favouring to love and leave.

   You’ve watched him a couple times as he’s tried his luck with one secretary or other, and what you’ve noticed is that his heart isn’t in it. He’s not cold, and the charm is very much present, it’s more like he’s distant, oddly unavailable for someone looking for warmth.    Which might be why he hasn’t gotten anywhere with them.

   It’s left you wondering if perhaps he’s waiting for someone to come along and take his breath away, or if the problem is that someone already did, and then chose not to let him keep her, making him either bitter against love, or scared of it.    Either way, you have no interest in being his latest attempt to figure himself out, or just blow off steam with.

   “Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying,” you bite back, giving him a steely glance before returning your attention to the weapon.

   “Not selling anything. I’m the new guy, remember? I’m just curious what earned you such a harsh reputation,” he tries, and you huff.

   “Curious, huh?” you keep your eyes on what you’re doing but allow a hefty serving of acid to seep into your words. “Well, I’m curious why you’re here asking me to explain something that some other jackass told you.”

   “That mean it’s not true?” he persists, and you sigh.

   “Alright, Peña, since you’re obviously looking to get told off, allow me to oblige you: I’m not in any way interested in any office-gossip-nonsense going on in this building. If it’s drama you’re after, look elsewhere. If it’s tail you want, I can give you the number of a good service provider.    And if, by some miracle, this is actually you trying to make friends – forget it.”

   You look up at him again for that last part, to find the beginnings of a smirk in his eyes and the corners of his mouth, which vexes you because you can’t see anything particularly funny about what you just said.

   “That’s all the answers I needed,” he says, his smirk blossoming into a pleased smile, before he pushes off the desk and shoves his hands down the front pockets of his jeans, slowly sauntering off while he adds, “And now I definitely won’t be staying away.”

   He winks at you before he fully turns away, and there’s suddenly something irritating coursing through your blood. Something uncomfortable and… hot.

   You kick the drawers of your desk, to your right, hard enough to send painful needles through your toes, because no. Just no.

   You don’t like this guy.

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

Thank you for reading, and feel free to criticize, I’m always looking to learn and grow as a writer. Also, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging, I would greatly appreciate it <3

@deadhumourist @idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16 @littlemisspascal @sj-draws00 @gallowsjoker @spishsstuff @little-mrs-morales @bilibiche @thelion-sroar

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I'll Make It Up To You - Part 2

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Warnings: Hints of depression and anxiety

Part 1 - Part 3

—————————

Days had passed since the audition, and while you were sat on your laptop every hour searching for new jobs, new projects, more auditions and pure hope of some miracle, you couldn't help but starting to feel like you were failing slightly.

You liked to write happy songs and create stories using your music, but you were finding it harder to find the inspiration. Usually you and Harry would sit and talk ideas for hours, but since he made you miss your audition, you were distant from him, it was only the last day or two that you had been getting slowly back to normal.

Every day since the incident when Harry came home after working at the studio, he would open the curtains to make sure you had fresh air and daylight after cooping yourself up on the sofa all day, in the dimly lit living room. Not only that, he would check the cupboards, fridge and the sink to check that you were eating enough. He had seen you stressed and upset before. He had been there through some difficult moments in your life, and had always been your rock throughout the years, especially when your mental health was struggling during these times. But this time was worse. He couldn't help being concerned for someone he loved and cared for.

"Hey pumpkin..." He whispers softly, settling himself down beside you after completing his daily routine "Have you done much today?" he gently combs his fingers through your hair before dropping his arm round your shoulders.

You just sigh softly, looking ahead blankly at the quiet TV, simply shaking your head. If only he could see what was going on in that pretty mind of yours then maybe he could make everything better.

"I see you used the piano and the guitar today though..." he states, although it came out more like a question.

Minutes of silence filled the room until out of the blue, some words left your lips. "...Adam came to get the ring today" you whisper, feeling the tears brim your eyes once again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"Oh darling" He frowns, pulling you into his chest tightly, just like he did the night you found out your (now ex-) boyfriend, Adam, was cheating on you. Unfortunately, you happened to find out minutes before he proposed to you, in front of all of your friends, including Harry. You didn't know what to do, so you took the ring, said you'd think about it and you left him standing alone. This all happened months ago, and you really thought that you was totally over it.

"Everything that's happened this week...I-I just...I feel like such a failure Haz. It just feels like I...I-I'm falling...falling apart and nothings going right! Why isn’t anything going right! I can’t even write one stupid song that makes sense" you let out hard sobs as your hands fisted his clean white t-shirt.

"No...no, no, no don't say that...please don't ever say that." He frowns, pulling away from you, but still staying close. His warm hands press against your cheeks as he lifts your face gently "hey, hey look at me" he whispers, begging you to look at him.

Your sad wide eyes flickered up into his, gentle tears falling down your face. "I know...I know it's hard at the moment. But everything happens for a reason. And everything will get better...I know it will. Do you trust me?" He whispers, his eyes gazing deep into yours, almost like if he looked hard enough, he could read your mind.

You give a hesitant nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wiping the tears dampening your cheeks. Being affectionate together wasn't anything unusual for the two of you, you really were the best of friends.

"I'll go make some dinner okay? Pasta sound good?" You just nod your head gently at him as he leaves your side. You let out a deep sigh and head over to the living room window, watching the sunrise beginning to set over the busy London town. "So...how's the studio going?" You ask him curiously, your gaze still at the window.

"I erm..." He clutters around in the kitchen. His job was a topic he had been avoiding for the last few days. He didn't want to rub it in that he was busy writing an album for millions of fans, who would be screaming his lyrics back to him all over the world in years to come. "It's...good. I mean, its tiring but I...yeah. It's good" He nods.

"H, you don't have to avoid it. I forgive you for what happened. I know you would never have done it out of spite...and you deserve your life style, you work hard!" You say as you head into the kitchen, re-filling the water in the vase on the table, your vibrant roses and lilies still looking as beautiful as the first day Harry bought them for you.

"You work hard too!" He frowns softly "Harry I don't think moping around on the sofa, drowning in my sorrows, is the definition of working hard" You let out a gentle chuckle.

"So...how's it really going?" You hop up onto the stool beside the kitchen counter.

"Well, we have 4 songs so far...and they are...different to the last album. I mean they reckon three of them will be on the pop charts...maybe even a number one slot there" He sighs softly.

"Oh wow, that does sound different to before...and you...don't want that?" You ask curiously, judging by the lack of excitement. "Well...it's not that. I just...it's hard to write another album when the last one did well, and you have to make sure it's better than the last one." He sighs softly as he cooks. "They want me to write some slower, more emotional songs. I just can't...well the words don't fit right. I'm just not feeling emotional about anything, so I don't know where to get the emotion from"

"Well you can't put a price on emotion Haz, you can't just go and buy it in Gucci. You have to really feel it. Even if you aren't thinking about something specific or direct to you. I used to find that sometimes when I was trying to write, I'd create these characters in my head, and I'd give them all these different stories and personalities. And I...I used that to really help me write music. It's not easy." You explain while getting two of the plates from the cupboard and pouring two drinks for the table.

"You used to? You mean you don't use that method anymore?" He asks curiously, while giving the pasta one final stir.

"I...I think I've decided that I'm not going to write music anymore" You shrug softly, your eyes unable to life to his. "I need a proper job. And things aren't going well with auditions lately and I make a total fool out of myself every time I go into a meeting. It's time I looked for a proper job. Besides, the price of bills in this house keeps going up and up."

"What?! Y/N you're so good at writing songs and music! You can't throw it all away now! That is your proper job. And I love hearing what you write, it inspires my own stuff!" He frowns, his brow furrowing, trying to understand you. "Think of all the songs no one will get to hear"

"No one hears them anyway...It's different now. The entertainment industry is changing more and more by the day. Maybe the stuff I write just isn't as trendy anymore." It was difficult for you to admit, but you knew you had to accept it.

"There's a fine line between us Styles, because the difference is, you're already there. You have the whole world in your hands Haz, you can go anywhere and do anything. You could sing a song to a fish and the whole world would be adored by you still! If I did something like that...I'd be laughed out of every interview, audition and meeting for the rest of my life. But we’ll be alright" You smile and shrug, your mood had certainly been hit and miss the last few days, but you knew you had to carry on with your life.

—————————

“Hey Y/N come here!” Harry calls from the living room. You were currently in your room, scrolling through your Instagram, while in a pasta coma after dinner. You rush over to the living room “What’s up?” You ask, seeing him sat at the gleaming white piano, which as always was sat under the window.

“What do you think?” He starts to play a few notes on the piano, looking between the scruffy paper notes cluttering the top of the piano and his hands. 

“Can’t put a price on emotion...it’s something that you just can’t buy...you...you’ve got my devotion...but....but” He sighs softly, playing around with the notes and the wording on his notes. 

You smile softly as you recognise his acknowledgment of your earlier conversation “...but man, I can hate you sometimes” you sing gently, testing to see how it could fit.

“Hey that’s mean! Why would you say that!” He fakes a pout up at you “I thought we- hey actually...you’re right! That really fits!” He chuckles, pulling you onto the stool beside him. “Can you try a G chord, B chord and....lets try a C...” You nod and smile as your fingers gloss over the keys effortlessly, while Harry fits the verse together and tries to find the right tempo.

“Wait...it doesn’t sound right. Maybe lets try a D instead of C?” You suggest as you re-try, playing those three chords over and over again.

“You...are...a genius!” He grins and wraps his arms around your waist. ”Keep going!” He smirks, pushing more lyrics in front of you. Sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes really helped...or perhaps he just wanted to prove that you had talent.

You peer down at the pages upon pages of words flooding your view. “...I don’t want to fight with you....and I...and I don’t like to sleep in the dark...we’ll get the drinks in...I...I can’t stop thinking of her...” 

Harrys fingers join yours at the piano “We’ll be a fine line....We’ll be a fine line...”He smiles softly as he taps on a few random keys. 

You pull your fingers away gently “It...your song sounds...really good H. It’s beautiful actually.”

 “You mean our song...” He whispers.

“Harry no, it’s your song, all the pieces, I just put your jigsaw together” You smile. “I know how it is writing songs and the first draft is never the same as the final version. You might decide to change it all completely” You whisper.

“Not with your lyrical genius ability and words of wisdom...your name will be all over this track” You felt a shock of electricity ripple through your veins as you felt his eyes burning into yours. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, lingering against your skin longer than usual. That sort of affection was normal from your best friend...so why did it just feel like something completely different? And what did he mean about my name being all over the track?

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino

[goldenkirstein]

aot band! au headcanons pt. 1:

pt. two here

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader, eren x fem! reader, zeke x fem! reader

wc: 1.2k+

cw: smut (18+ minors DNI), reader has female anatomy, manipulation/corruption, dumbification/incoherence, sorta dubcon (?), mentions of spit, cockwarming, unprotected sex, cursing, dirty talk, creampie/breeding, cumplay, degradation, perv! zeke.

a/n: okayyyyy, so im reposting this, because i didn't like it the first time i posted it lol. i added and cut out some things still don't know if i really like it. anyways, i tried my best with tagging everything, i really hope i didn't miss anything, if i did please let me know. this is my first time writing anything smutty, i'd love to hear any feedback or criticism !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

smut under the cut

jean kirstein

Jean would play the electric guitar.

He wouldn't have any big tattoos but tiny stick and pokes, but when he takes off his shirt, there would be this giant, intricate tattoo that spans his entire back.

He wears thin white t-shirts that cling to his body when he gets all sweaty from performing or when he douses himself in water because the lights make it really hot on stage, babe. The shirt becomes practically see-through, and when he turns around, you can see the outline of the back tattoo. You swear he does it on purpose.

HIS HANDS, calloused from hours of practice, wears chunky silver rings that make his long fingers stand out. He keeps his ring finger empty, though (he's a romantic and a big ol’ softie).

When he's writing songs or can't figure out what chord would sound right, he plays with his rings. He takes them off, sliding them up and down his finger until he's satisfied and moves on to the others.

It drives him insane if he sees you singing along to his songs at the concerts. He'll smirk at you, opting for a quick wink, before getting back to performing.

After the show, he’ll pull you into his lap, in whatever empty room is available. He’ll have his hands on your hips, the cold rings contrasting against your hot skin.

His heart would be beating so fast, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He just got off stage, and here you are, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants, driving him crazy.

On most days, he liked it when you would fuck him post-show, sliding your skirt up and sink down on his cock.

He loved watching you fuck yourself dumb around him, tits bouncing in his face, head thrown back in pleasure. His cock would reduce you into an incoherent blubbering mess. The only thing making sense was the way you were chanting his name like a prayer.

this fucker would love to whisper the most filthy things in your ear, “you’re making such a mess around my cock, petal. You’re gonna be a good slut and clean it up after, right?”

when he’s about to cum, he turns into an absolute mess. He gets super whimpery and will hold you close to his chest as he dumps his load in you. He stays like that for a while, watching as his cum drips out of your cunt and down his dick.

He doesn’t let you get off his cock, partly because he’s so sensitive and partly because he secretly wants to stuff you full of his babies.

after he’s calmed down a bit, he’ll open his eyes and run a hand through his hair, letting out a small chuckle, “shit, baby, you keep fucking me like that and I might just have to put a ring around that finger.”

eren yeager

plays bass and is on vocals

he has a sleeve on one arm, and the other one is empty. It's pretty cohesive, and the pieces link together-think American traditional; he takes great pride in his tattoos. After all, they're pieces of art on his body.

He likes showing off on stage. He’ll take off his shirt and throw it into the crowd, and he loves hearing the screams that ensue afterwards.

Always the performer; he’ll walk off the stage and stand on the rails, getting the people in the crowd to run their hands down his sweat-slicked torso. It’s another crowd favourite.

he wears rings too, and his favourite thing to do is to get you to pull them off his fingers using your mouth. He has to coax you into each time, “I can’t pull them off by myself; they’re too tight, need your help, angel.” He just likes having you suck on his fingers; he won’t tell you that, though.

He likes the attention from the fans, but he mainly does it to get you hot and bothered. Eren stares at you while strangers are practically grabbing at him. It’s a game for him. Figure out just how many ways he can get to you.

you always avoid him after the shows, in a way to tell him that you're not impressed by the stunts he pulls.

As much as you try to run and hide, he always finds you. He’ll come up from behind, hands on your waist; you don’t need to see him to know that he’s got that Cheshire cat grin on his face.

Try to escape from his grip, and it’ll only get tighter, “what’d you think of my little performance, princess? Did it make you weak in the knees?”

He loves pushing your buttons, does everything to get a reaction out of you, try all you might, the night always ends the same way, you bent over his dressing room table, skirt lifted, panties to the side, and him fucking ruthlessly into you from behind.

the stoic front you put up would be practically erased from the way his cock slides in and out of your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

He loves hearing you beg for him; he wants to listen to the vulgar words fall from your mouth, wants to have you begging him to let you cum, pleading for him to cum in your pussy.

He’ll tease you endlessly, “what’s that angel? If you want my cum so bad, you gotta beg better than that.” In the end, he always gives in, also liking the way his seed drips out of your pulsating hole.

Before any can drip down your thighs, he’ll slide back your panties, straighten out your skirt and send you off, saying that, “it’s for later, for when you try fingering that pretty little pussy, you’ll always have a reminder of who owns it.”

Bonus: tour manager! zeke yeager:

tour manager zeke, who watches the shows from the venue’s back, keeping his eyes trained on you.

Tour manager zeke who has a reputation for being a sleazebag, a cheapskate and vile to women.

Tour manager zeke, who watches as you stay back after each show to clean up, smiling ever so sweetly at him, “no mr. yeager, I really don’t mind helping out. It’s the least I can do.”

tour manager zeke, who can’t help think of shameful things when you bend over to pick up the crumpled posters, his eyes that linger a little too long at the swell of your pert ass.

Tour manager zeke thinks about how your mouth would feel around his cock, how your eyes would tear up as he pushed your head further and further down his cock. How pretty you would look with spit and cum coating that sweet face of yours.

Tour manager zeke, who has always been kind to you, offering to take you home for the night, telling you how cute you look and how he can’t believe you’re over 18.

Tour manager zeke wants to defile you and make you his, ruin you so that you can only get off from his cock and no one else’s.

Tour manager zeke wants to teach you how to suck dick, how to ride, how to fuck.

Tour manager zeke, who treats you so nicely, putting false notions in your mind so you can let your guard down around him, hoping that one day he can shape you into his plaything.

a/n: hope the smut sounded right this time around lmao, i might scrap it in the morning again idek yet, just wanted to see if i could even write smut.

I am working on the second part of somewhere only we know !! thank you for all the love on that.

if this does well, i'd love to do a part two to this with armin, mikasa and connie, please let me know if that is something you would be interested in !!

as always, if you enjoyed, leave a like/reblog, i truly appreciate it <33