#I tend to watch streams while drawing and the a

[heathenoushound]

He worked hard to keep his team safe 🪝

[writingsfromhome]

Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

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“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—��

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

[phossiii]

Would Monsters!Y/N ever learn about Phosphorus’s criminal background? I don’t just mean for relationship building and such, but also learning that damn Pimp get-up he wore at one point🤣🤣🤣 Just so Y/N could stare judgementally at Phosphorus, who may have been indulging in drugs at the time as well given Thorne also ran a drug business.

｡𖦹°‧⭑ melting

synopsis: phosphorus doesn't take kindly to disrespectful business partners... especially when they disrespect you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, takes place within the monsters universe.

"I've got to say, Señor Fósforo," Esteban grinned, rakishly, as he surveyed the club, eyes gliding over girls and party-goers alike. "You certainly don't fail to disappoint. This is the best get-together I've been to in a long while."

Amused, Phosphorus out a hearty chuckle, using his thumb to light the end of his cigar.

Damn well better be...

The amount of money he shelled out for this little shindig was enough to make a duke sweat.

Most, if not all, of the big name players in Gotham's criminal underworld were there, dining on gourmet hors d'oeurvres and puffing on premium smokes.

All to get "re-acquainted".

"You flatter me, Esteban. Five years and nothing's changed," Phosphorus sighed, leaning back against the cushions of the booth as he released a smooth stream of smoke. "But now that we've got the pleasantries out the way, I think it's time we get down to business."

His light-hearted demeanor switched quickly, turning sharp and poignant.

"I take it my business in the East End is going well... given your solid gold watch, that eyesore you've got parked out front... and the blow you've got on your nose."

Eyes wide, Esteban quickly wiped away the evidence, swallowing thickly as he adjusted the collar of his dress shirt.

"Better than ever, Señor. B-But of course we are fully prepared for you to resume your position."

"On the contrary," Phosphorus sighed, looking down at his scotch. "I need you to continue running the East End."

Esteban raised a brow.

"Huh? But why?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Phosphorus reminded sharply, before allowing his eyes to drift over to your form on the dance floor. "But I need some more time on my hands... I've got... other things to tend to."

You flipped your hair over your shoulder with a carefree grin, laughing with a few of the other mobster girlfriends you met as you all danced like nobody was watching.

When, in fact. everybody was watching.

Phosphorus bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off an invisible grin at the sight of your happy expression.

You were thoroughly worried when he broke you both out of Belle Reve, afraid of the wrath of Batman more so for his sake than for yours.

But he assured you that everything would be fine, and encouraged you to have the time of your life—all on his dime, of course.

So, when he said you both had a party to go to that night, you accepted the little black card to his offshore account and went ham at the stores for the first time in your life.

Which brought you here, cutting a rug under the strobe lights of the club.

"Diablo Mami..." Esteban gasped, having finally noticed you through his fear-filled, coke-laced haze. "Qué hermosa!"

Your silvery laugh rang through the crowd as you swirled your hands around your body, your fire drawing intricate designs in the air.

Using your power, you outlined your hips in rhythm with the music, accentuating the curve of your dips in the tiny, black dress.

'Goddamn...'

Not a day went by without Phosphorus thanking his lucky stars you gave an asshole like him a chance.

An asshole... who just registered Esteban's words.

With a painful quickness, he snapped his head over to the Colombian drug lord, eyes sharpening like daggers.

"What was that?"

"La diablesa..." Esteban marveled, gaze raking over your every inch. "Horns... And a tail, too... I've never seen someone like her before... So sexy..."

Phosphorus's jaw ticked as he watched the man looked at you, his expression displaying his thoughts clearly as he practically undressed and fucked you with his eyes.

In an instant, the cigar hanging out the skeleton's mouth went up in flames, completely burning up right to the bud.

But Esteban was too enraptured in you to notice.

"I'm a little parched, Señor," the drug lord grinned, rising from his seat and adjusting his blazer. "I think I'm going to get a tall drink of wa—"

He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before an irradiated hand grabbed him harshly by the neck, hoisting him up in the air and completely knocking the table over in the process.

The shattering glasses of scotch grabbed the attention of everyone in the club, along with the screams of nearby women as Esteban choked and gurgled, blood slowly leeching from his every orifice as Phosphorus cooked him from the inside out.

"On second thought... your employment is no longer necessary."

Many watched with horror as he melted the man in his grasp, refusing to let go until Esteban's head was completely liquefied, leaving only his body intact.

From the dance floor, you watched with a tired sigh, crossing your arms over your chest with disapproval.

"This is what I get for leaving him alone," you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Leaving the terrified mob girls behind, you strutted off the dance floor, moving to go yank your boyfriend out of his mess.

"All right, nothing to see here," you barked, scanning over the room with a side-long glance. "He's a dead man. I'm sure we've all seen one before."

With a flippant puff of fire, you ignited the man's body with hellflame, cremating him in a matter of seconds.

"Let's keep this party goin', alright? Back to your business."

Murmurs of agreement rumbled throughout the room before the music cut back on and the attendants returned to their partying.

"As for you," your voice sharpened, brows furrowing as you grabbed Phosphorus by his tie. "We need to talk... Alone."

"Is this a talk or a talk talk? 'Cause I wouldn't be opposed to the former," he cooed, tenderly sliding his hand down your side to rest over the curve of your ass.

But the glare you fixed him with said otherwise.

"Ah... the latter."

"What did I tell you about the melting, my love?" you sang from your seat on Phosphorus's desk, softly caressing his jaw as you held him in between your legs by his tie.

Even though your words were sweet, they were not without an underlying, scolding tone.

"Only do it if absolutely necessary," he grumbled, as if he were a child.

"And was it absolutely necessary?"

"...Yes."

"Alex."

Your grip on his tie tightened, eyes glowing a faint yellow.

"It was! Honest!"

"Oh, yeah? What did he do?"

"He was eyeing something that belongs to me."

His voice dropped an octave, eyes gliding over your face with a possessive glint.

(You couldn't see them, but you'd become so perceptive with his body language that you might as well have)

"Yeah, well, that something's about two seconds from skipping town."

"What?!"

"I told you the moment we stepped into Gotham that we needed to keep a low profile. Parties are typical of the nightlife, but melting is not!" you sighed out of your nose, reigning in your volume just a tad. "If Batman catches wind that you're out, he will not hesitate to drag you back to Belle Reve and throw away the key. And then what am I supposed to do? "

You released him, your arms coming up to hug yourself as you looked away.

"With my record clean, they won't take me with you. And I'll never see you again..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, doll, that's not gonna happen," Phosphorus quickly shifted, his hands quickly rising to cup your face and turn you toward him. "I assure you, I'm being careful. Everything's being delegated to my lieutenants. I'm as far removed from the business as possible."

Glancing up at him, you searched his face for insincerity.

"Promise?"

With a small smirk, he placed a soft peck on your lips, running his thumb over your cheek.

"Promise."

At that, you grinned, pulling him back in by his tie and pressing your lips into his neck, much to his amusement.

He'd have to make promises more often...

"If that's the case... whaddya say to a little more one-on-one time?" you softly whispered into his ear, punctuating with a little nip to his jaw.

The timbre of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, forcing the man's hands to reverently grasp at your hips.

"Whatever you want, doll... whatever you want..."

[littlcdarlin]

Dad!Joel headcanons (Jackson)

warnings: big age gap (unspecified), reader calls Joel Daddy (as in he’s her baby daddy), pregnancy, mention of labour, afab!reader, in my mind Joel has a breeding kink but it’s not explicitly mentioned

note: for the person who requested this <3 hope it lives up to your expectations! For my own sanity, Sarah never existed in this. I cannot handle Joel having another kid after losing her, and I don’t think I will ever write that tbh. Also, the picture in the middle made me cry.

When you tell Joel you think you’re pregnant he doesn’t believe it for a full five minutes (which you find amusing after how hard he tried to accomplish just that) — then he cries

He worries a lot during your pregnancy and babyproofs the house best as he can, using materials Tommy & Maria can spare

One thing he loves about your pregnancy is that whenever you have sex, he doesn't have to pull out, and he makes good use of that newfound freedom

He builds a cradle by himself, surprising you one evening with a set-up nursery: he painted the walls while you were on greenhouse duty with some paint Maria gave him, and even found some cushions to put into the cradle

When you get insecure about the way your body changes, he lets you know how beautiful you are to him, regardless of size or skin condition or anything else

When you start to show people start whispering because of your difference in age, but he brushes them off, so proud to be your baby daddy

He holds your hand the entire time you're in labour, and you squeeze so hard you bruise his bones – the midwife says his fingers might be broken, but he doesn't pay her any mind, not when your baby is almost here

When your little girl is born, Joel is terrified of holding her small body, afraid he'll drop or hurt her somehow, but you reassure him he can do it, and when he does, her tiny body fits into his arms perfectly

You've never seen him cry so much as during the first couple of weeks – a yawn, or sigh, or blink from your daughter will do it, tears streaming down his cheeks

He asks Tommy to be Godfather, and after he accepts, any past fights are forgotten and they start spending more time together

As your daughter gets older, Joel and her bond over all sorts of things. She's fascinated with bugs, so he takes her "bug hunting": they try and find as many insects as they can, Joel drawing small pictures of them into a notebook, while she observes their behavior. By the time she's seven, she's got her own bug lexicon

Sometimes you and Joel disagree on certain rules or privileges for your daughter: you figure self defense is an important skill, but Joel doesn't want her to touch a weapon, ever. In the end you settle on teaching her combat

When you see the pride in Joel's eyes whenever he looks at your daughter, you jokingly call him Daddy – that night he fucks you so deep you think you're having ten more babies just from that

You're adamant about teaching your kids a healthy perception of gender-roles, and you know the age difference between Joel and you sometimes results in traditional roles. Joel agrees with you and asks Maria to get a day a week off of patrols to do household chores, etc.

While your daughter is little, you're allowed to stay home with her, but as soon as she starts classes in the little makeshift school in Jackson, you start working again – sometimes in the greenhouses, sometimes on patrols, and sometimes in the kitchens

Joel and you never go on patrol together – partly because someone has to watch your kid, and partly because of how dangerous it is outside of Jackson. You want to make sure if something happens to either of you on patrol, she still has a parent left

Tommy and Maria take her one night a week so that you and Joel can have some time to yourselves – between clickers, kitchen shifts and raising a kid, romance tends to fall a little short

Some nights you have dinner in your house and cuddle up on the couch together, finally having a whole evening to talk to each other and enjoy each other's presence, and often Joel sneaks you a little surprise treat, like a peace of chocolate, a flower he found on patrol, etc.

Most weeks your free night results in sex – before you had a kid he fucked you almost every morning and night, but there's less time for that now. In the beginning you miss it a lot, but you quickly learn to appreciate the built up, week-long tension: Joel is insatiable, using your precious hours to find as many ways of making you come as he can. It's worth even Tommy's knowing grin in the morning, when both of you have to stifle your yawns

When your daughter is old enough to want to play with toys, Joel starts carving wooden animals for her. He's more handy than you realized, the little toys have lots of character, and Joel's face always lights up when he watches your daughter name them

He loves singing her to sleep, his deep honeyed voice perfect for soft lullabies, and you often catch him making up sweet texts to familiar melodies

You know he wants more children, but he doesn’t press it, not wanting to rush you into the decision. Sooner than you thought you start to miss being pregnant and the magical time after giving birth. You know you’re one of the only people in the world able to have children in safety, and every day you watch your girl grow up healthy and happy you’re thankful for it

When you tell Joel you want another one during one of your date nights, he’s over the moon and makes love to you as often as he can “to make sure it takes the first time ‘round”. By the time he’s done with you, you’re an exhausted, happy, dripping mess

It does take — when you tell Joel your period is late a short while after that night, he swoops you up in his arms and the three of you celebrate as a family that evening, Joel cooking dinner instead of going to the dining hall

[luveline]

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks. 

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well. 

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.” 

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement. 

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground. 

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines. 

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?” 

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.” 

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”  

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag. 

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!” 

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun. 

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.” 

“What is it?” 

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic. 

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.” 

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks. 

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?” 

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.” 

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF. 

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.” 

“I love the sun.” 

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.” 

“That’s why we have to drink.” 

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.” 

“Mommy,” she giggles. 

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them. 

“That was two,” Steve says. 

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind. 

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.” 

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?” 

“Swim!” 

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away. 

“Ready, Beth?” you ask. 

“You’re coming in?” she asks you. 

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile. 

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it. 

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly. 

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside. 

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened. 

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws. 

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected. 

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water. 

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching. 

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.” 

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.” 

“Stop.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. 

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.” 

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts. 

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says. 

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” 

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely. 

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.” 

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.” 

“I get it.” 

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.” 

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.” 

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say. 

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.” 

“Rascal?” 

You laugh worse. 

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says. 

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.” 

[bitchslappin]

Figure Studies

 

Summary: Joel let's his you paint him like one of your French girls (kind of not really).

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, no implied age gap but do what you want, sexual tension, voyeur to some degree, exhibitionism kind of, M masturbation, overstimulation a little bit, fluff for sure, Joel's so in love, idk the tags make it sound lame lol

Word count: 2.5k

“Quit starin’ at me. It’s creepy.”

   Joel’s voice is gruff. He’s bent over the dining room table, summer evening sun streaming in through the kitchen window. He’s cleaning his rifle. It’s been too long, he hasn’t been keeping on top of it, it’s been long enough since he’s had to use it. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to his t-shirt, hands covered in a layer of gun oil, sweat starting to bead on his neck from where the sun’s been resting. His girlfriend is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorframe, just watching him. She’d been down at the Tipsy Bison most of the morning, helping Maria draw up plans for the community garden expansion. Ellie is… well Joel doesn’t actually know. She hasn’t been home since last night. But she tends to couch hop around Jackson these days, and Joel can’t say he’s mad for the alone time while she bothers other people for once. 

   “Can’t help it.” She tells him with a slight grin as she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “You look so good right now.”

   Joel snorts and flicks his eyes to her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Sweaty and greasy and angry. What a good look.” He snarks.

   He doesn’t have to see her roll her eyes, he can feel it. She walks in slowly. “‘M serious Joel. You look good.” She murmurs softly. She’s not teasing him this time, or even really flirting, her tone low and sincere. 

   He finally looks up at her then, pausing what he’s doing. His breath sticks in this throat a little bit. Even after years together, he’s not good at this. Accepting genuine compliments in a neutral setting. He’s gotten better at the flirting, and he’s more willing to give up some control in the bedroom, but this kind of thing? The softness? He’s still a little shy about it. He just shakes his head at her and says nothing. He won’t argue with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He turns back to his task, wiping the stock of the rifle, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. 

   She sits down next to him, pulling her legs up onto the chair and leaning her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. She watches him silently for a little while, and it’s easy for him to fall back into the rhythm of cleaning, zoning out a bit as he works. As he finishes up, fitting the pieces back into place, she interrupts the silence.

   “Can I draw you?” She asks quietly. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow. She’s quite the artist, always sketching and even painting when she has the time. One of her new friends had somehow gotten her a set of oil paints for her birthday, and Joel loved to sit for hours and watch her paint. She’s sketched him plenty of times. He’s seen some of them because she’s shown them to him, some because he spied them over her shoulder. But she’s never asked before. 

   “You… what, now?” He asks as his brows knit together in surprise. She just shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah now. Come on, please?”

   Goddamn him he can never resist that look on her face. Sweeter than sugar. He grumbles. “Fine fine…” He rolls his eyes as she smiles in triumph. “Where d’you want me?” 

   She stands and drags him by the hand into the living room, grabbing her sketchbook off the coffee table. The light is pouring into the living room as she pushes the curtains open. “Go sit on the couch. Just get comfy.” She tells him. He huffs about it but he goes to sit on the couch, groaning, when she turns back and makes a surprised noise. 

   “What are you doing?” She asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He’s hovering, halfway to sitting, and he frowns at her. “You told me to sit on the couch…?”

   She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pushes on her shoulder as she goes to sit on the coffee table in front of him, sketchbook on her lap. “You gotta undress first.”

   “What??” His lips part in shock and his eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

   She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Come on Joel, please? I haven’t ever been able to do real figure studies. Please?” She’s not teasing anymore, not trying to push his buttons. She’s genuinely asking. She’d always told him that when she was little, she’d dreamed about going to art school in a big city, sketching figure models for hours. But then of course… well you know what happened. He hovers there for a minute. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. Hell sometimes he feels like they see each other naked more than clothed. But it’s not the same. This is more exposed, in the sunlight, with her just staring at him. 

   “Can I just… just take my shirt off?” He asks with a nervous chuckle. He meets her gaze and he can see the slight of disappointment there, though she nods and gives him a smile. “Sure Joel, that’s fine.”

   He pulls the shirt over his head and hesitates, watching her face as she flips to a clean page in her sketchbook, twirling her hair up onto the back of her head and pinning it in place with a pencil. The sunlight makes all of her look golden, the strand of hair that escapes down her neck, the freckles on her cheeks… she’s glowing and he is powerless but to give her everything. Even something he thinks is silly. He huffs and commits, unbuttoning his pants and shoving everything down like he’s annoyed, but he’s really just nervous for some reason, and flops back on the couch. He shifts a little as she gazes at him. It feels different from when they’re in bed, the way she’s looking at him now. Now, she’s looking at him like a specimen, like something to study. 

   “So… how should I sit?” He asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Her gaze seems to shift suddenly and her eyes get softer as she smiles at him. She sets her sketch book aside and comes over to maneuver him, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pushes him to lean back, muttering “get comfy” to him softly. He leans back, one arm instinctively going to the back of the couch, his legs falling open comfortably. She smiles at him and adjusts his arm resting on the couch, moving his hand this way and that until she likes the angle. She moves to his legs then, her hands are warm and sure as she pushes at his knees, his thighs, adjusting them a little wider. He lets out a slow breath, trying to keep his cool. ‘This is for art, that’s it’ he tells himself. But then she takes his other arm, adjusting it across his body, placing his hand over his cock, already semi hard from her attention. He bluescreens for a second, looking up at her with wide shocked eyes. She just arches an eyebrow at him.

   “This okay?” She asks, her hands hovering and ready to move him if she needs to. He looks down at himself for a half a second before back up to her. ‘Be cool, Joel. Be cool’ he tells himself and clears his throat. 

   “Yeah. Yeah it’s… it’s fine.” He nods. She smiles brightly then and leans to peck a quick kiss on his lips, before moving back to the table to pick up her sketchbook. 

   She quickly gets lost in the drawing, holding her book on her knees, her pencil skritching on the paper softly. Her focus on him is intense, almost like she’s not really seeing him, she’s looking through him. For a while, he just watches her, fascinated. The way her brow is furrowed in focus, and the way her eyes move rapidly as she flicks her gaze between him and the paper. It seems silly to think but he finds himself feeling like he’s never seen her so… intimately. There’s something about the demeanor she has while she’s creating. He feels that way when he watches her paint, too, but he’s usually sitting behind her then, watching the colors take shape, looking at the landscapes with her. He’s never been the subject. He watches her fingers, delicate to him, though she might argue after the years of post-outbreak turmoil, as she uses her pencil like a magic wand. The movement of her hands is mesmerizing, the way the light catches her skin…

    It doesn’t take long for him to start getting hot under the figurative collar. ‘Stupid caveman brain’ he thinks to himself. He can’t help it. She’s so beautiful and she's looking at him like that and he feels so… vulnerable. He tries to stay still, to hold the pose, as he starts to harden under his palm. The couch under him, the sun streaming in, his hand on himself… everything is sticky and warm and his hard is beating faster. He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to hide it, to stay still for her, but catches the way he shudders as he slides against his sweaty palm. She’s doing some shading and doesn’t even look up from her paper when she breaks the silence in a low voice. 

   “Do you want to touch yourself?” She asks softly, her gaze fixed on the drawing. His head snaps up and his eyes dart around for a minute like he thinks she’ll be talking to someone else. He clears his throat.

   “Wh-what?” 

   She looks back up at him then. Her face is open, almost confused at his confusion. “Do you want to…” She gestures with her pencil at where his hand rests covering himself, speaking matter-of-factly. He glances down at his hand, curled around his hard dick. His brain still can’t process fast enough and he looks back up at her, just staring for a minute. 

   “Do you want me to?” Is what eventually spills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly as he keeps her gaze, a flush burning on the back of his neck. He’s never done anything like that before, not like this with her fully clothed and sitting five feet away from him. She smiles at him softly, the sweet look on her face is making him feel fuzzy and warm and he squirms a little bit, trying not to gasp at the friction against his palm. She nods after a beat.

   “Yeah honey, you should.” She says simply, sitting back again and picking up her pencil. She continues sketching like it’s a simple as that, but he feels caught in limbo. He doesn’t do anything at first, just sitting there with his hand curled around his cock, in the same position she put him in, a blush burning hot on his cheeks. She looks up at him for an extra beat before nodding her head at him. It’s like a signal and he jolts into action, sliding his hand loosely over his cock. 

   It feels… way better than it should and his eyes slip closed for a second, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it’s the build up, maybe it’s the heat in the room, or maybe it’s just the way she’s staring at him and how easy he is for her… He keeps his fist loose at first, but quickly tightens it as the movements become slick and easy, his arousal spiking. His head drops back against the back of the couch as he starts to lose himself in the movement until her voice cuts through his foggy mind.

   “Hold your pose please.” She asks firmly, her voice low. He snaps his head up and finds her eyes trained on him, his breath stuttering. She arches an eyebrow at him seriously. “I’m not finished with my drawing. Wait until I’m done.”

   The tone of her voice, the command to wait… it’s like flames licking up his spine and he barely suppresses a whine, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand is still sliding over his cock, slick with his steadily dripping arousal. She’s nearly ignoring him and it makes him feel hotter, desperate. 

   “Sugar…!” He whines. “I don’t think I can… I’m..” 

   She looks up at him again, her stern expression making him choke. 

   “You can.” She says firmly. It’s a little encouraging, a little humiliating. “Just five more minutes.” 

   He groans but finds himself nodding. She’s not usually so direct and it’s lighting a fire in his belly. He should slow down, back off a bit, but he can’t. It feels too good as he watches her pencil gliding over the page. His hips roll off the couch just barely, trying to meet the rhythm of his hand, and she either doesn’t notice, or more likely she doesn’t stop him. He’s whining through his teeth as he holds onto that knife's edge, he can’t help it. 

   “Sugar… baby…” he mutters softly, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, his mouth hanging open as he fixes his gaze on her. Maybe it’s the tone in his voice, the needy way he calls to her, or maybe she really is done, but she sets her sketch book aside, putting her pencil down, before leaning back on her hands casually. 

   “Go on then.” She tells him softly, and he breaks. The moan that tumbles out of his mouth would be embarrassing if he could hear it, but the static fills his ears as he comes hard all over his stomach. With his head tossed back against the couch, he doesn’t see the hungry look on her face, or the way she moves off the couch and kneels in front of him. He works himself through the high, his hand starting to slow and his chest heaving when she pushes his hand away, taking him in her own. He gasps sharply and looks down at her. 

   “Baby wha..?” He stutters out as she starts to stroke him firmly. She just smiles at him, leaning in to kiss his inner thigh as she works him over. Her grip is tight and slick, hot from her skin being in the sun, much smoother than his own hand, and he moans brokenly through the oversensitivity, squirming in her grip. “J-jesus baby.. Y-you…” He stutters out between sharp chirping breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

   Eventually she slows her hand as he starts to soften, her movements still firm but stilling. She holds him until his breathing has calmed down. And he looks down at her. “What the fuck was that?” He asks, his voice raspy. She just laughs and shrugs. 

   “You just looked so pretty, I wanted to join in.” She tells him as she leans her head on his thigh.

   He blushes hotly and looks away for a minute. The afternoon has left him feeling vulnerable, but also syrupy and soft, better than he has in a long time.

   “I… you…” He looks back down at her before huffing in frustration. “Just get up here.” She mutters and grabs her by the elbows, manhandling her into his lap as she laughs. He drags her in for a kiss, hot and lush, before flipping her over onto the couch, looming over her.

   “My turn.”

[greekceltic]

how often do you draw? I am curious how much I should be drawing for improvement.

Daily! Although there's much quicker ways to improve than the way I draw daily. My improvement is at a crawl most of the time because I don't explicitly try to get better (but I'm satisfied with that). I'm going to speak generally from here, to anyone who happens to read this, with I guess a disclaimer that this is from personal experience and I'm sure no one learns art the same way. If you really want to get better, do personal art and do art that makes you happy. If you're looking for a how-to book, buy one that will motivate you to draw more, not one that will bore you. Drawing is staying motivated to do it a lot. There are no bad how-to books if having it in your hands keeps you interested in drawing. There's also the internet. I tend to focus on books because I was a kid books were what I had. Anyway, that's the staying motivated part.

If you want to improve, look up Andrew Loomis, there's a lot to learn there. Set aside a little time to draw from reference or life. Ten minutes of loosely sketching poses from google or line-of-action.com doesn't feel like it does anything when you're doing it, but it builds over time. In fact, when you're doing things that will help you improve, it will almost never feel like you're improving while you're doing it. The payoff comes later (and quietly). If there's something you struggle with, spend 10 - 30 minutes drawing ten of that from reference. Ten hands. Ten feet. Ten noses. You don't need to finish the art or refine it. Messy is fine. It's not meant to take a lot of time or look good. It doesn't have to be thirty minutes either, it could be three. Watch streams! Watch other artists draw. Hang around other artists if you can, especially in environments where art is being streamed. Watch videos on youtube. There's so many resources on the internet that weren't there when I was a kid. It's incredible.

[dnfity]

they were so silly in your fic thank you so much :(( question. how do you write such realistic dialogue? your dialogue is seriously some of the best i've seen in this fandom

sorry it took me so long to get to this i wanted to try and give a good answer. i think the biggest thing that helps me is to just try to imagine them say whatever piece of dialogue i just wrote in my head. if it sounds weird, then i change it and i'll keep changing and changing it until it sounds real.

i wrote some general notes below and its long so dont open unless u want an essay on your dash:

george:

i think i find george's the easiest only bc i watch his videos/streams the most. some notes for him is that he says dreams name when talking to him A LOT. if u notice, he'll usually say it after shorter commanding phrases. for example, "it's fine, dream" or "stop, dream" or "i dont know, dream". he'll also use his name at the beginning of phrases whenever hes about to complain about something lmao. let's say george wants to go out or something. instead of straight up saying he wants to go out, he might say something like "dream, im bored. this vicinity that we're in, it's boring" expecting dream to fix the problem for him.

adding onto that, he loves his little vocab words. words like befuddled seem to be favorites for him. i think he just likes the way certain words feel to say if that makes sense. (dream is one of those words). he also tends to speak in shorter phrases sometimes, especially when hes trying to joke around. his way of speaking in general doesnt typically involve long-winded explanations. in fact, in the past, when dream or sapnap dont understand what hes saying, he usually gets annoyed. "how do you not know what i'm talking about? you're an idiot."

dream:

the thing that stands out the most to me with dreams way of speaking is that hes usually very honest with everything he says. if he suddenly gets this surge of appreciation or gratitude towards someone, he'll most likely vocalize it. he also - contrary to george - tends to draw out his sentences. i think he is definitely a saying before speaking kind of person, and that usually involves him cutting sentences off to start new ones, run on sentences, etc. he has that adhd way of speaking lmao. stuttering, saying "like" a lot, feeling like he cant get the sentence out as fast as his mind is going, switching between topics while telling a story.

dream also sees the world through a technicalities a little lmao. what i mean by that is that he tends to want to be very specific when it comes to his actions / the things he observes. for example, he can't just say, "i slept so much last night." it'll go more like, "i slept so much last night. i slept for like, twenty hours. ok, well, maybe not twenty hours but it was like - okay, it was maybe like, sixteen hours." this i think also manifests into terms he used to use a lot such as recency bias (and george kinda does too, but i think he does it mostly when talking to dream, a way of mirroring him during a conversation).

tldr just really pay attention to the way they speak to each other and spin them around in your head.

im sure there are things im missing but i hope that was at least somewhat helpful. i also didnt read over this after typing it so if there are errors im sorry.

[kristetch21]

Due to me feeling under the weather, I decided to make headcanons imo, on how the rogues handle being sick.

🎩Hatter

Drinks tea and adds herbs to help get better

Blanket piles, yes piles

Has a favorite hat and tie for when he's sick

Has "gone" to wonderland and saw new residents while having fevers

🎃Scarecrow🐦‍⬛

Shout out to @voiceboss I love your Crane's view on Frontier medicine and miss ikky so..

Uses hot toddies(whisky) to get better and reads a lot

Has layers on he gets bone aches from the cold

Tries to work, however ikky pesters him to rest

Imo the man runs on gremlin energy and spite, so definitely forgot to eat but has 3 coffees

Is more grouchy if that's possible

Has tried ft to take his mind off being sick

Uses a crusty handkerchief

🪷ivy

Finds a secluded place and let's nature aid her

Usually never sick but does recover from injuries

Takes things slow and visits Harley

Tends to her gardens around Gotham

🐧penguin

Sleeps in luxury

Has maids and private Drs aid him

Works from home for the first few days, back at the lounge by night 3

Like crow, uses brandy and a cigar to feel better

Secretly craves junk food when sick

🐱Catwoman

Has hot chocolate and watches tv

Cuddles with her 3 cat and orders food

Plans next heist but falls asleep with her pen drawing randomly on the page

Has favorite sweatpants and sweater for the occasion

Sometimes accepts Bruce taking care of her and her fur babies

🦄Harley

Comfy clothes for days, fuzzy socks and leggings that are lined

Movies and games

Can't sit still for long, gets antsy

Will cuddle her mista j and bud and lou

Wants pancakes and pretty water(bubbly with edible glitter)

Hates the taste of medicine so she pinches her nose to hide the taste

❄freeze

Doesn't get sick but does have stomach aches sometimes

That being said he will sip jagermister and jot down some notes

When he's tired he sets up a chair near Nora and catches some sleep

Has caught himself talking to Nora as if she's there to answer, he remembers how she used to fuss over him

🐊croc

Stays in a closed off area and self medicates with stolen cold syrup

Tries to rest but usually can't sleep from the meds keeping him wired

Gets better though by the end of 4 days

🃏joker

Doesn't get sick

Has injuries or tummy pains(poor diet)

Has Harley play doctor

Refused to rest so it takes time to heal

Gets hyper and weird the less sleep he gets

His motto is walk or run it off

🥊bane

Has tea and protein to repair his body

Rests for a day before he gets back to work

By rest, he travels to the next location and sleeps maybe 4 hours

Ice baths and gym

��Riddler

Gets more annoying to his fellow rogues

Lives off soup, complaining about bats and drinks loads of water (Q/E won't let him have caffeine)

Works on his phone or sleeps with puzzle book in hand

Has trouble shutting his mind up enough to fully rest

By day 3 he has annoyed crane so much that he might get "cured" by ft

Has live streamed while sick to troll people (it lifts his spirits)

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Jason Todd x Reader

Title: “He Loves Me.”

WARNINGS: ABUSE (domestic, verbal, and emotional abuse), Strong language, if you are in anyway triggered by the topic of abuse, please do not read. If you have gone through abuse, please, be aware when reading this, because it could set off triggers. 18+ due to the topic of abuse.

Characters: Jason Todd and F!xReader, Brent and Lily made up characters.

Based on some true events. Please be kind. This is someone else’s story being told from my perspective, and in my writing. It has been requested by a friend, and friend has approved of this x reader.

————-

Tears streamed down your face as you sat on the bathroom floor. Quiet sobs escaped your lips, your body trembled as your fingers shook over the bruise that now adorned your cheek.

You held the handheld mirror out in front of you. Tears stained your cheeks and your eyes were red and puffy. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He’s just having a bad day.” You whispered to yourself.

The sleeves of your sweater raised up, and bruises were scattered all along your forearm. A pounding sound on the door made you drop the mirror to the floor, and you brought your legs closer into your chest. “I’m not finished with you yet!” A loud voice boomed on the other side making you shudder.

You leaned your head against the cabinet, wishing you were anywhere but here. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He’s just having a bad day.”

Regardless of how you felt now, you knew better than to open that door. You knew how he got when he was drunk. You knew how he felt when dinner wasn’t on the table or the clothes weren’t folded and put away. You also knew how he reacted when you brought up his cheating. And yet, somehow, you always believed the next time would be different; even though every time he showed you his reaction would remain the same.

It started out small. Your hard headedness, and fiery attitude would earn you a few grabs of the chin, or him grabbing your face to force you to look into his eyes. Small bruises would form and you would cover them up. No big deal, right? You deserved it because you had your own personality.

Wrong. Your friends had told you how wrong it was. But your mind led you to believe other wise. He loves me. He’s making me a better person.

Then it turned into him grabbing your wrists, arms, hair— whatever he could grab in the heat of the moment, he grabbed. After his small rampages, he would kiss your lips, whispering, “Baby… I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. I’m trying to be different, I’m trying to change, but it’s hard.” He would cry into your shoulder.

He did change— for a while anyway. Your daughter was born. He was in love and in awe of her— until he wasn’t. The drinking started again, and then the affairs happened. Multiple affairs had started. Constantly, you would cry to him, “I love you! Why do you have to find comfort and understanding in another woman’s arms?”

That resulted in him slapping you for the first time. “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up! You nag me so much! That’s why I do it!” He would scream at you, and then leave in a fit of rage.

After that, you were quiet. You didn’t speak unless spoken to. You knew when and when not to speak; he was a ticking time bomb. You tended to your daughter, and did what was expected and asked of you.

Tonight, it was different. Two years of him being abusive, tonight was the worst. Brent had been gone for three weeks. He never text, called, or came home to tell you where he was. You were genuinely worried about him… was he dead? Alive? The landlord had came knocking on your door at 7 that morning.

“Y/N, listen, you haven’t paid rent in a month and a half. You know I’m partial to you because I know your situation.” The older man said, as he looked around you, seeing your small daughter watching the television.

“But I have to draw the line somewhere. The yelling and the fighting, your neighbors have asked me to remove the two of you from the building.” He said rubbing the back of his neck.

“If— if you leave him, I’m sure I can make other arrangements for you to stay. My daddy treated my mother the same as your boyfriend does you. That’s why I have a soft spot for you, but if you choose not to— I have to evict you.” He whispered, and he glanced over your shoulder.

“Do it for that little girl in there. You have three days to come up with the rent payment for last month, if I don’t have it, or if you don’t get rid of the scum bag, you have thirty days to vacate the premises.” He handed you a sheet of paper, and slowly walked away.

Tears streamed down your face, as you remained frozen at the door. “Do it for that little girl.” Rang in your mind, and you closed the door.

You walked over and got on the floor, and cradled your daughter close to your body. “He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He really does love me. He loves us.”

That night, you had put your daughter to bed, and Brent had decided to come home. He threw his jacket on the couch, and tossed his keys on the table near the entry way.

A paper caught his attention, and he picked it up. “When did you get this?” He questioned, and you leaned against the island that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Today. The landlord said we have three days to come up with last month’s rent, or we have thirty days to leave.” You said and he crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor.

Anger filled your body, and you couldn’t control the words that fled from your mouth. “Brent! You haven’t been home in three weeks. Three weeks! You haven’t called or text— I didn’t know if you were dead or alive!” You shouted. “Lily and I have been living off of scraps for two days, and the rent is overdue, and—“ before you could finish your sentence a stinging pain across your face made you freeze.

Brent was standing in front of you, “Shut up, Y/N! It’s none of your damn business where I was.” He said and you began backing up towards the couch.

The back of your knees were pressed to the edge of the couch, and his face was inches away from yours. “I don’t know why you think you can talk to me like that. I’ll pay the damn bills when I’m good and ready.”

“Where were you?” You demanded. “I’ve been here struggling, taking care of our daughter, while you’re out fucking some whore for three weeks?” You spat.

Angrily, he shoved you down on the couch. His body straddled you—his knee was pressed into your hip, making you squirm underneath his weight. “You’re lucky I’m even with you. You deserve to be treated like this. You don’t deserve my attention—I work hard all the while you sit here all day.”

You tried to push him off you, and with one hand, he had your hands pressed into your stomach. His other hand caught your gaze; it was cocked back and he was ready to punch you in the face.

“Brent—get off me, please!” You pleaded with him.

“You deserve this.” He said, but a small voice came from around the kitchen island. “Dada? Momma!” Your daughter squealed as she came running up to the two of you.

She had a smile on her face, and Brent jumped up off you. “Play time?” Lily asked, and you quickly grabbed her and ran to the bathroom locking the door behind you.

You sat Lily down, and she went to the basket where her bath toys were. That’s when you finally broke down into tears, watching your daughter play with her toys, oblivious to what was going on around her.

You picked up the handheld mirror and stared at yourself, why? Why did you let things go this far. Brent started pounding on the door, “Come out here now! I’m not finished with you yet!” He yelled. You pulled your legs closer to your chest, resting your head against the cabinets.

Lily stared at the bathroom door, and then looked back at you. “We’re okay.” You whispered to her, and she went back to playing with her toys.

“I’m going to go get beer. When I get back, you better be out of that bathroom.” He threatened.

When you heard the front door shut, you unlocked the door and quickly grabbed your cellphone. You dialed a number you knew by heart, and raced to the bedroom to pack up some of yours and Lily’s belongings.

“Hello?” Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. “Y/N, are you there?” Jason Todd asked, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore.

“Jay— I need your help. But you have to get here fast. Please.” You whimpered into the phone. “I don’t know how much time I have left, before- before he comes back.” You said.

Instantly, you heard a car door slam. “I’m coming.”

——————

You had packed up important documents, all of yours and Lily’s clothes, and her favorite toys. A knock on the door made you jump. You slowly opened the door, and a pair of dark brown eyes stared into yours.

You flung the door open and Jason pulled you into his body. His forehead pressed against yours, “What’s wrong Y/N/N? Why do you have to leave? Where’s Brent?” He asked and he pulled away from you.

The bruise across your cheek had darkened, and so did Jason’s eyes when he seen it. “Did he do this to you!?” He asked and tears filled your eyes.

Jason brought you back into his body and cradled your head. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He said into your hair, and you pulled away. “Why did you stay?” He asked.

“We have to go. Before he gets back—” you say, and Jason’s eyes were fixated on something behind you. You turned around, and your daughter was standing near the kitchen island.

“Momma, I sleepy.” She said rubbing her eyes. You went over and picked her up, and placed a blanket over her little body. Jason’s eyes went from Lily to you.

“You.. this is why you stayed.” He said answering his own question. You nodded your head with tears in your eyes.

He picked up your duffle bags, and your daughter’s small backpack. “Let’s go.” He whispered and he led you down to a car you knew had to belong to Bruce. It was unlike Jason to not drive his motorcycle.

Jason helped you put the car seat into the car, and you buckled her in. Lily was sound asleep, and you pressed a kiss to her little head. You turned and stared up at the apartment building, questioning your decision to leave. He’ll just find me. He’ll apologize, he loves me. He needs me and I need him. But the old landlords words rang in your mind, “Do it for that little girl.”

With a deep breath, you tossed your purse into the passenger seat, letting Jason help you into the car. He closed the door and got into the drivers seat. Jason was silent the entire car ride to Wayne Manor. He had reassured you that Bruce was in Beijing on business, and the rest of the batboys were off patrolling.

Jason took you to his old bedroom, and he sat your bags near the closet door. Quietly, you placed Lily down on the bed and covered her with the blankets, leaving her teddy bear next to her.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Jason leaned up against the old oak dresser staring at the two of you.

“What’s her name?” He asked, and you quietly replied: “Lillian Jayde. She’s two and a half.”

You looked over your shoulder. “Her middle name, Jayde, was inspired by you, Jay.” You said quietly, and he came closer to you, kneeling down to the floor.

“When did he start hitting you?” He asked and you clasped your hands together. “Six months into the relationship.”

“Why did you stay?” He questioned and you looked down at your hands. “Because I loved him. I was scared to leave him. He- he isn’t like this all the time…. I am stubborn and you know me, I have a big mouth and say things that are out of line-“

Jason cut you off, “What the hell- do you hear yourself? Why are you making excuses for that piece of shit?” He asked, and he held your hands in his.

His gaze softened, “A real man would never forcibly change you. You are perfect. Do you hear me? You are not worthless, you are not his punching bag, and if he loved you, he wouldn’t have done this to you.” He said pulling up your shirt sleeves.

“You could have easily kicked his ass. You were trained to fight- you are so strong, why?” He stared into your eyes searching for answers.

“Because I was tired of fighting. I felt safe with him, and I- and I got pregnant, and things changed, Jay, I don’t know.” You cried out, and he pulled you into his body. You explained everything that had happened that night, and after you had finished he said, “I will be right back.” There wasn’t enough time to ask him where he was going, or what he was doing.

You laid down next to Lily, expecting Jason to just run downstairs, but he was gone for over an hour. When he had finally come back, you got out of the bed and walked towards him. His lip was split, and his knuckles were starting to bruise- there was no need to ask where he went or what he did, because deep down you knew.

His brown eyes stared at you as he gently touched your cheek; Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. I’m not going to let him come near you or her. I’m going to protect you both. You hear me?” you hugged him tighter. “We will figure this whole thing out, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way, okay?”

You looked into his eyes and gave him a grateful smile. You felt safe in his arms. Jason Todd had saved you and your daughter from a life of torment and abuse. The words “He loves me.” Had a whole new meaning to you, and you had finally done it for that little girl.

————

I know this was rough and sad. But I was asked by a friend to write this and bring awareness to abuse. Some of these events are based on a true story and real life, minus Jason Todd, but I am happy to say that his friend has met her “Jason”. This was difficult and different for me to write about this topic. Please do not send hate.

You are worthy of love. You deserve someone who will love you. You deserve to be happy. My inbox is always opened, even if you just need someone to talk to.

Much love,

Kaleidoscopewritings19 ❤️‍🩹

[saiscribbles]

i dont know if i asked you this already but i meant to for a while n got nervous. I'm trying to get into streaming the making of my art and i make comics but my rough draft art is super messy so i wasn't sure if I should only film while drawing the lineart and color on top of the sketches or if i should do everything? I know it's ultimately my decision but I really admire your art and want to do well for my followers

I'm gonna be honest, I tend to dislike being watched while I sketch, but I do it on stream anyway. You might find drawing and chatting actually makes you more comfortable and not overthink what you're doing. But in the end its up to you what you want to work on when streaming your screen!

And for a streaming set up, everything I use can be used for free!

First I stream with OBS: https://obsproject.com/

I've created my entire streaming layout all in there.

The header, frame and section headers are all just PNGs modified for my look from a free streaming graphics set. The header and frame slowly slideshow through two images, one with more of a glow than the other, for the slight light pulsing effect. The background is just a looping no attribution video from Vecteezy. The main window is a window capture of my art program. The music player is a window capture of iTune's mini player. You can size and rearrange things like this anywhere you want on the screen.

For my Pngtuber I use Veadotube Mini: https://olmewe.itch.io/veadotube-mini

Which is freeware but I kicked them $20 cause I use it so much. It's very simple to use and supports animated gifs!

For the chat, superchats and that tip scroll up there I use a free service called Stream Elements: https://streamelements.com/

You can set up all sorts of alerts with it and get a ton of animation, sound and TTS options. And then you just include it in OBS as a browser source!

I hope that gives you an idea how to get started!

[vermil1ion-sky]

Streamer AU

Some of our favorite characters as streamers or youtubers! Including some I haven't seen done before so I wanted to bring something new to the table.

Characters: Ayaka, Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche

A/N: this ended up... being really long so I did less characters than I originally intended but if you guys like it I can do more!

--

Ayaka

A fashion-focused youtuber, who occasionally dabbles in traditional practices, such as tea ceremonies and dances, and explains the stories and origins to her followers.

Most of them follow her for her fashion content but they religiously watch whatever she posts because her demeanor is so polite and elegant, it's almost like they can't look away...

Found a sudden influx of comments about her brother the first time he appeared in one of her videos, in the background asking if she wanted dinner, which she finds entirely embarrassing (Ayato thinks it's amusing).

After a lot of convincing from her fans, she ocassionally collabs with Ayato, both of them posting content on their respective pages featuring each other. Those videos tend to be their most popular.

Ayaka thought the teasing over her 'hot' brother would end after the hype sort of died down...

She was right but wrong as another wave of playful, teasing comments was soon to come.

You, like Ayato, appear first on accident; you just wanted to check in on your girlfriend who hadn't left her room in a while, unaware she was recording.

Ayaka turns to the door opening just as she was trying on another outfit from a recent purchase. She sees your face, blushing slightly though its entirely off camera and just for her to see, and giggles when you start to apologize.

"It's alright love." Ayaka's voice is... softer than her followers are used to. In the video, they can hear your voice in the background as you speak. "You... look really cute... Cuter than usual I mean."

She laughs at your awkward compliment but smiles, soft and lovingly, as she thanks you.

"Maybe you could wear that for our next date." That's the sentence that made Ayaka blush, making her turn towards you and punch your shoulder playfully, off camera.

"Aight sorry, I'll go, have fun." You kiss her cheek, your face only appearing in focus for a second, before leaving the room.

Even though it wasn't related to the video, Ayaka kept the footage in because she found it endearing.

She slightly regretted it as 90% of her comments after that were yelling that they wanted to know this mystery person that Ayaka's clearly dating.

She tries to draw attention away from you but it only works for a little bit. people really seem to want to know you.

Ayaka sighs, her face in her hands, but a small smile on her face. Guess she should bring it up with you one day, to see if you were okay with the idea of appearing once in a while.

Xiao

A gaming streamer, famous for beating most games without much effort.

People flock to his streams for his careful plays, like he's analysing every possibility to win fast and easily. Also his voice and looks are nice, so it's a bonus for them.

Does both single and multiplayer content. The latter he usually games with his friends, also streamers.

Gets along the best with Venti, argues the most with Scaramouche, gets eye twitches when Heizou purposefully does a bad play to see everyone's reactions (but otherwise he bites his tongue and stays quiet) and with Kazuha, he's oddly patient, with him being the least into games in the group.

People are naturally curious about his life, as Xiao's usually very reserved and doesn't mention anything private. He tries to keep it at an arms' distance from his fans, just because it's what makes him feel more comfortable.

That quickly comes crumbling down when you make an unexpected appearance in his stream one day.

Xiao's usually very aware of his surroundings even while gaming, so catching him off guard is extremely hard. This time, however, the volume on his headset was higher than usual and he doesn't hear you enter the room.

You call out his name and he can't hear you but his chat definitely can. They're exploding the chat, asking who that is; unfortunately for him, he's entirely too focused on the game to look at chat.

You call him again, touching his shoulder slightly and he immediately jumps, cussing outloud, his headset falling from his head.

He sighs as he tries to steady his heart thats about to jump out of his chest. The chat can now hear your voice clearer.

"Sorry baby I didn't mean to scare you..." Your voice is soft, a hand reaching from off camera to run your fingers through his hair. Xiao closes his eyes and starts to lean into your touch but stops midway, remembering he's live and hopes his chat doesn't notice.

They definitely do.

"...it's okay..." He speaks softly, looking at you and it's so obvious that theyre's a lot of love behind that stare. "Did you need something?"

"Oh no, I just... I thought you'd be hungry after playing for so many hours... I brought you some almond tofu, a little snack..." You smile shyly at him and Xiao can swear he feels his heart melt, grabbing the plate so gently.

"...thank you..." He smiles and it's so soft, so full of affection... His cheeks are dusted with a slight pink color and everyone's teasing him about it. "...let me know when dinner's ready I'll join you..."

"...yes of course... I'll leave you to it, have fun baby." You lean closer, slightly in frame as you kiss his forehead, before stroking his cheek lovingly and leaving the room, leaving behind your flustered boyfriend who is only now reading all the comments.

From people asking to know his significant other, fans and even friends, to others teasing how red Xiao's face is, how 'whipped' he is, etc.

You can hear him yelling from outside the room, into the mic that he's not a 'simp' and you can't help but giggle at how... flustered he sounds.

Wanderer

Also a gaming streamer like Xiao, and they usually play together with their other friends. Those two are also the two who fight the most and Kazuha's the one who breaks up their spouts.

Besides the occasional gaming with his friends, he's mostly a single player content kind of guy. He just gets mad at random people if they don't play as well as he does.

Gets jokingly called emo boy by his fans, which terribly annoys him.

Also similar to Xiao, he keeps his personal life to himself, not wanting people to meddle on his business. So, he tries to keep you off camera and not mention you while he's live.

Unfortunately for him, he chose to date someone who enjoys teasing others and being a little shit just as much as he does.

You really never minded the possibility of appearing on Scara's streams but he never offered so you kept it at that, not wanting to possibly push a button by asking.

Still, one day you feel particularly cheeky and want to play a small prank on him.

With his stream on your phone, you pick a time when he's clearly too focused on playing to possibly noticing you entering your shared bedroom/recording room. You open the door slowly, his back facing you as hes hunched over, mashing keys as he seems to be trying to beat a hard boss. You smirk slightly, slowly coming closer, waving at the camera and putting your index finger to your lips, to tell the viewers to not say anything or redeem any tts that might startle Scara.

Right as he died again and he grabs his face, sighing in frustration, you make your move. You grab his shoulders quickly, out of nowhere and it's impossible to not laugh at how he jumps from his seat, yelling and falls off his chair, with only his legs in shot.

Well, that and you laughing way too hard, clutching your stomach as you cant stop giggling; your boyfriend's glare certainly doesn't help, he looks entirely not amused at how you're laughing at him.

"The fuck's wrong with you?!" "So many things babe, take a pick."

He grumbles as he picks his chair up and sits back down, running a hand through his fringe. You smirk, hugging his shoulders from behind and it's certainly funny to you how he tries to shake you off with no real malice nor effort.

"You're so cute when you're mad, Kuni." "I swear to God one of these days I'm going to change the locks of this house." "Oh noo I'm soo scared~"

Scara rolls his eyes, and yells at his chat to shut up with all the comments professing their love towards you. You get closer to read them, still clinging to his shoulders and you laugh.

"They love me already, probably more than you do~" He frowns when you say that. "That's not possible you-"

He catches himself too late, realizing what the implications of his... choice of words could come across. You stare at him in slight shock but it soon wears off. tightening your grip on him and nuzzling his cheek.

"Oh, my Kuni is so sweet~ Chat aren't I lucky?" You wink at the camera and the blush on Scaramouche's face is bright pink; his face gets redder as you press a kiss on his cheek as he tries to push you away.

"Oh my God get OUT." You giggle as you finally release your boyfriend, waving a goodbye to the camera, leaving your boyfriend behind to deal with the onslaught of comments asking for more details about you.

You turn the stream back on and see his cheeks are still red, partly from what happened and from how mad he is at his chat. It makes you smile as you can hear him yelling in your room to his chat to stop trying to get you back in.

[badomenslullaby]

Grief

Pairing: Noah X Reader

Word Count: 712

Author's Note: I am having a tough time today, so I wrote this short story. I hope you enjoy ❤️

While it's commonly thought that grief becomes less burdensome over time, for some, the pain only intensifies. Today marks three years since you lost a close friend, a friend whose soul brightened not just your life but also the lives of others through their everyday actions and words. Every day, you carry their license in your wallet just so you still have a piece of them with you, have their name tattooed on you, and constantly keep their memory alive. Most days, it does seem like the grief has become more manageable, but when it comes to the anniversary of their death date, that is when time stops, and the pain becomes too much. 

This year, the anniversary caught you off guard; amidst the hustle and bustle of a hectic week, you had yet to consciously keep track of the date. The day began strangely, a heightened sensitivity nagging at you without apparent cause. It felt like everything was out of sync until you stumbled upon your sibling's social media post and suddenly realized the day's significance. That was when time stood still, and the tears began to spill. Thankfully, your job let you go home early when you told them about the situation. 

One significant source of solace in your life is Noah. He remembered the date and understood its significance. With thoughtful planning, he ensured that you felt safe and that the household responsibilities were taken care of, allowing you the space to rot in bed and tend to your emotions for the day. He was surprised that you got up and went to work, but he didn’t want to say anything due to not wanting to see you hurt and in pain. So, as he watched you head out for the day, he got ready and went to the store to buy you a few things. 

On his little shopping trip, he went all out; nothing was off-limits when it came to you. His first stop was the greenhouse, where he selected a new plant and the perfect pot to complement it. Next, he headed to the grocery store, stocking up on your favorite snacks and drinks, anticipating that you might need them to snack on your feelings throughout the night. Finally, he stopped by your favorite place to stop by and got you a gift card, knowing how much you appreciate retail therapy during tough times. 

Halfway through your day, you finally realized the date. After your boss granted you an early release, you called Noah to let him know you were heading home, the reminder of the day's significance heavy in your voice. Noah offered nothing but reassurance and comfort during the call. Once you hung up, you found yourself sitting in your car, tears streaming down your face, grappling with guilt and questioning whether you were a bad friend for forgetting.

As soon as Noah heard your car pull in, he was already prepared to provide comfort. As you walked through the door, he opened his arms wide, and you practically collapsed into them, sobbing with the weight of your emotions. Pouring out your feelings to him, Noah gently rocks you, planting kisses on your head and soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. He shares his own personal tips for coping with grief, drawing from his own experiences of loss. 

Once the flow of tears subsides, you gaze up at Noah with gratitude, expressing your heartfelt thanks for the love and support he has shown. "I love you more than the moon and the stars," he whispers tenderly as he runs his fingers through your hair. When you finally feel ready to leave his embrace, he guides you to the bedroom, where he has arranged all the thoughtful gifts on the bed, a tangible reminder of his care and thoughtfulness. Noah stays by your side so you don’t feel alone.

As the day slowly fades into the evening, Noah remains steadfastly by your side, a reassuring presence in the midst of your grief. Together, you find solace in each other's company, finding strength in love and shared moments of quiet understanding. In Noah's embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that no matter the challenges, you will face them together.

[o2studies]

22:28 || ༻`` 15 Oct 24 — Tuesday

Didn't end up studying or doing homework tonight but I did draw! We also started a practical in chemistry today and it was so much fun (more because of the conversations and how everyone kept getting sidetracked)

Something I really want to highlight tho is:

Engage with life and the simple/mundane!

In the past few weeks I've been floating in the good-or-bad-but-mainly-meh feelings and I wasn't doing much with myself at all. Then a few days ago I watched a stream of someone playing a Papa's game and commenting on the customers and what they order or how they rate the food, and I tried doing it myself. Just talking into the screen and coming up with some personalities for the customers. Yesterday before my bath I did 21 pushups almost in one go and while in the bath just suddenly though of how I could've tried to so a few more and then—in June I was managing to do between 20-25 pushups in a row—I realised that I had just done 21 pushups. When my wrist got hurt I couldn't do a single pushup and after my wrist got better my arms were just a lot weaker from the lack of consistent exercise so I tended to do 5-8 at a time. So with the achievement of 21 I applauded myself and gave a silent cheer. Today in study I was listening to music and consciously moving my head and body a bit side to side in time with the rhythm.

After all of these simple things I got very very happy! Right after them! And the happiness level will of course vary from person to person and even between what it is that you do, but I strongly reccomend just trying to interact with the things around you, especially if you're by yourself or in a low mood.

I hope this helps somebody like it helped me ^^

Day 27 clean (Vee 💕)

Day 0

Floor time ☑️

^ I keep forgetting about the last 2 and just not doing anything about them... Need to change that // 🍊

[voxofthevoid]

I've read a lot of your works in the MCU fandom, and though I am not a jjk fan, I STAY for the smut.

Dude! Sometimes I read your sex scenes and I'm like What!? How!? Why is this shit so hot!? The shit is invocative, titillating, and fucking inspiring.

I want to write smut like this one day, but I am SADLY inexperienced. Both in the writing department and personal experience..

I need to know how you get inspired to write these amazing scenes. What keeps the juices flowing? Is it from watching boat loads of porn or reading smut? Do you draw from a vivid imagination or personal experience? A combination of all these things? I MUST KNOW.

You write better porn than most of the published vanilla shit I have seen sold in stores, so I take your opinion very seriously.

Any tips would be great, and thanks for answering!

- A fan who created a Tumblr just for this one ask.

First, lemme just—

—explode.

Holy shit, thank you. This is so fucking flattering that I made a genuine attempt at biting my phone when I read your ask the first time. My teeth did not appreciate the mouthfeel.

Really though, this is high praise, and I'm very, very glad that you like my porn so much 💗

As for where/what I draw inspiration from, it is indeed a combination of all the things you mentioned! I was a horny teen who grew into a horny adult, so I've watched and read a metric fuckton of porn over the years. Still do! What I consider "wank material" is very different from what I write in terms of both content and style, but the fact remains that it keeps me supplied with a steady stream of sexual material, some of which can be quite inspiring.

I also have a very vivid imagination. Always have. I'm a visual reader/writer/thinker, so whatever I'm conceptualizing becomes a mixture of still and moving images in my head. You can imagine (pun intended) how useful that is for writing sex. Personal experience also feeds into it significantly; the sex I've had helps me write bodies better, and my own tastes in bed color the kind of sex I write. It's not always a one-to-one relationship, of course, but there's a reason sadomasochism is a staple of my writing, for example.

Between what I have felt and what I can imagine, I can sketch out the sensory experiences of a whole host of things, even if I haven't experienced it personally. I promise I haven't bitten off anyone's tongue while kissing them, for instance, but I do know how it feels to dig my teeth into tongues of varying lengths and textures (and... shyness), and then it's a matter of mentally synthesizing that with what it feels like to bite through meat. That kind of shit. Realism isn't the goal, titillation is.

When it comes to tips, the most important one in my opinion is the usual tip for writing: read and practice. Read as consciously as possible and then practice over and over. You already know the kind of sex you want to write, yeah? So read more and more of that type of porn, consciously analyze the way those writers are using language, imagery, dialogue, etc., and then try your hand at it. You can also draw inspiration from whatever else you can find, from visual porn to mundane sensory experiences.

Results likely won't be immediate. Some people do strike gold on the first try, but they're rare, and even writers who're good right off the bat will generally find that they're improving further with greater practice.

I've been writing since I was ten years old and posting it online for a bit over a decade. Scroll far back enough on my Ao3 and you'll find my nervous "English isn't my first language" and "this is my first time writing smut" notes. Even considering more recent works, there are marked differences in style between my YoI fics and MCU fics and also between my MCU fics and JJK fics despite my overall style already having settled by the time I got into MCU. That's the case with most writers I know, and we also tend to be our worst/keenest critics because we see the messy paths that led to the finished work.

Practice is the only way through, even when it's more frustrating than rewarding.

Personal experience isn't necessary to write porn, just like how you don't need to kill people to write murder scenes. Reading, research, imagination, and practice will do the trick.

Oh, and write for yourself first and foremost—and I'm talking specifically about what people mean when they say "write for your dick." Cater to your own tastes. Write what you find hot or what gets you hot. Ignore mainstream tastes (like the vanilla shit you've decried above) and focus on what your heart and nether regions desire.

Go forth and get porny, anon! I believe in you 🫡

[aiyanakopa]

2, 13, and 23 for Artist Asks

thank you! 💕

2. 5 favourites of your own work?

I answered this one here ✨

13. show your favourite drawing from last year

this was one of the answers from the previous question too but I'd have to say the horse one!

purely based on the fact I worked on it over several months and I was really happy with how it turned out in the end

23. do you listen to music or watch shows while you work? If so, what’s your favourite?

oh absolutely I cannot draw without some kind of background noise. I tend to jump around between favourites, but recently I've been really into either putting on a drawfee stream or quinton reviews's icarly / victorious series, and before that I binged like half of malcom in the middle working on levihan art

if I have music going sometimes I like to have a related playlist or soundtrack playing (I love to make a ship playlist for this purpose specifically ✨)