#I'm drawing a lot right now but like none of it is appropriate for this blog

[thatnununguy]

Rosecat (she doesn't like being held)

[crustaceousfaggot]

So I've been thinking a lot about the setting of Disco Elysium. Specifically it being set in late winter/early spring. It's not something I've really seen anyone else bring up.

I mean, the symbolism seems pretty obvious right? Spring is the time of new beginnings, winter is ending and we're entering a time of potential and rebirth. Definitely nothing new. But I think it goes beyond that.

I live in one of the coldest major cities in the world. Not *the* coldest, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a city with over 1,000,000 inhabitants that gets colder than it gets here. Winters are long and brutal and difficult, and when the soil itself is frozen and covered in a foot of packed snow it's really hard to believe that the world could look any other way.

And don't get me wrong, winter is beautiful. The world is quiet and picturesque. There's none of the usual dirt and debris in the streets because it's all buried under the snow. The way that fresh snow sparkles under street lights at night is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things I've ever seen.

It's early April right now, and the snow is melting. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. When the air starts to warm up there's this feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Spring is here, and any second now the world will be bursting with new life and beautiful greenery.

But it's not. Not yet.

For about a month and a half after the snow starts to melt, the world is grey. No glittering snow, no budding flowers, no swirling red leaves, just puddles of brown water and lawns of brown grass. It's like winter had ended, but the world has yet to realize that it's supposed to be spring. Until it remembers, we're all trapped in a world where there is no season at all.

Sometimes it snows, but the snow never sticks around. Sometimes it rains, but the rain never brings flowers in its wake.

That last month of winter, that first month of spring, whatever you want to call it, is my least favourite time of year. I heard it described once as "the long-preserved corpse of autumn, finally allowed to rot", and that phrase stuck with me. There are eight month old leaves on the ground, skeletal and bleached grey by a winter trapped under the ice. Without the snow to cover it, you can't ignore just how much we've let our city go to shit. The trees are bare and skeletal, and even the evergreens look washed out and grey when they're not contrasted against the snow. Most of the birds aren't back yet, so the only sound outside my window is the ever-present hum of traffic.

It's impossible to ignore the movement and the sounds of humanity, but at the same time the world has never felt so stagnant.

I think there are all sorts of comparisons you could draw here, some of which hold up better than others. The one that first comes to mind for me is sobriety- the line "Full recovery will take years, though. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. Don’t expect any further rewards or handclaps." from the "Waste Land Of Reality"o thought is one which really stuck with me on my first playthrough, and one which feels especially appropriate here. But that's just one angle.

How much of this was intentional? I don't know. Probably not most of it. Part of me just wanted to go on a little tangent about the seasonal purgatory I'm trapped in once again. But I genuinely don't think there could be a better time of year to set a game like Disco Elysium. That bleak dusty shoulder season, where all the ugliest and most honest parts of nature and civilization are on display. The time of year where I've gone through the ringer and come out the other side, but everything still looks and feels like shit. It's just a different kind of shit.

Spring isn't here. Not yet. And when it does come, it won't fix anything. There will still be garbage on the ground and pollution in the air, there will still be class inequality and senseless violence and I will still be mentally ill.

But still.

For the first time in months, I can feel the wind against my skin without it hurting.

Whatever that's worth.

[theragethatisdesire]

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

-

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

-

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect? 

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars. 

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean’s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.�� 

-

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him. 

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren’s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want. 

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests. 

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night.. 

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

[khaire-traveler]

Hello there! I'm very new to hellenic polytheism and came across a question that I am not sure how to approach. I would be really grateful if you could let me know your thoughts on this (please don't feel obligated or anything, tho. I know I am just a random person asking a random question 🫣). So, for a while now, I've been getting more into greek mythology and from there into fandoms that depict the deities (e.g. Epic the musical which I love a lot). Would you say it is inappropriate to seek out fanfiction or fanart (especially those including ships) in those fandoms, or should I refrain from doing that as it would be disrespectful? Or are there limits I should be aware of? Thank you so much should you choose to answer this 💜 (I apologise for missing paragraphs. I am not sure how to do those on mobile.) (Also, is there a right way to end these kinds of letters/messages/questions? Like a way to express my gratefulness?) (Sorry if none of this makes sense. I always get anxious messaging strangers, but I couldn't find answers anywhere, so I thought I'd just ask🫣)

Khaire, Melie!

Ah, yes. The age-old question. How sinful is fanfiction, exactly? /joke (wanted to start this off light-hearted)

In all seriousness, I'll start with this: If you want to know how the gods feel about it, ask them. There is no better answer than the one that comes directly from the source. I understand the nerves around asking this question; some Hellenic Polytheists feel VERY strongly about it, and honestly, seeing their strong opinions has made me doubt my own interests in such media. Remember that some rando's opinion online, however, isn't the law, regardless of how strongly they feel about it or how desperately they want you to do exactly what they're doing. Opinions are opinions; facts are facts - they are separate things. Personally - and this is MY opinion -I think never engaging with modern media depicting the gods is a little too strict of an approach, and by following that, I feel that a lot of people are banning themselves from engaging with fictional media that they might enjoy. Each piece of modern media about the gods is a creative interpretation of Greek mythology, and people have been doing this kind of thing with other religions - that they don't believe in - for AGES. It's entirely normal, even if it is kind of annoying sometimes. Now, some retellings, games, shows, etc. genuinely take things too far, in my opinion, and warp the mythology so completely that it might as well be a different story entirely. I'm bordering on a tangent, so I'll move on.

Modern media about the gods isn't an inherently abhorrent, evil thing that should always be avoided, however, but personally, I do draw the line of engagement at shipping.

First and foremost, live your life the way you want to. Engage with your practice however you wish. I'm not the law-maker of this religion - no one is - and while I might disagree with someone's approach, I'm not going to shit all over them for doing things differently from myself. Now, into my opinion. I don't think shipping gods - be it from a modern form of media or not - that you worship is appropriate, personally. In my experience, it will blur your actual perception of those gods. I've seen it happen over and over again that people confuse the fictional representation of their God in media with the actual god, then feel the need to distance themselves from the media in order to regain something they feel that they lost. Like I said, you do whatever you wish, but I find it's just better to avoid the awkwardness of shipping entirely.

If you want to read fanfiction about the gods in fictional media, go for it, but I'm not personally a big fan of that. I don't know how the gods feel about it; I can't speak for them (no one can). For all I know, they could be reading the fanfiction themselves and laughing their asses off, who knows? But as a worshipper, I'm not personally comfortable with the idea of reading it. Again, do what you want with your life. If you want to read some spicy fanfic of one god with another, I'm literally not going to stop you, but make sure you're able to separate the fictional characters from the gods you actually worship before you do so - that's my advice. Too often, people end up conflating the two. When a fandom or fanfiction begins affecting your worship, practice, or even just the way you view the gods, that's when it's a problem.

I think the community has been torn on the topic of modern media for a while. Some people love it, while others utterly despise it, and you'll notice that answers will vary from person to person. In my opinion, these pieces of media become problematic when they swarm the fuck out of a small religious community that already struggles to be taken seriously. An example of this is what happened with Lore Olympus a while back. When the comic got popular, a ton of people would swarm and attack worshippers of Apollo online, calling them all sorts of extremely vile things, all because of a comic that literally wasn't even mythologically accurate. In my opinion, fandoms can get out of control sometimes, and when you're engaging with one based around the gods, I advise you to just be careful and aware. For some people, fanart and fanfiction of the gods are extremely uncomfortable, similarly to if someone were to ship Buddha with Jesus in the regard that it just...feels weird for people who actually worship those figures. Other people could care less, being able to fully separate the fictional characters from the gods they worship. Base it on your comfort, and the comfort of your gods.

I hope this helped to give you my perspective. I'm not going to tell you what is or isn't the right choice because honestly, different people will give you a different answer, and I'm anything but a religious authority. You're allowed to do as you wish, but I will always advise you to tread with caution and check in with yourself about how it feels for you personally. Reach out to your gods and directly ask them (such as through tarot, or another form of divination), "Hey, how do you feel about me engaging with this?" Asking directly is ALWAYS a good idea, in my experience. Take care, Melie. 🧡

[42wv]

Blaidd Cosplay project I worked on during May 2022

Elden Ring was the hype, I wanted to be a good turtle. I originally wanted to get this cosplay ready by Otakuthon 2022, but I never did finish it. I do want to finish this cosplay one day!

Now let ramble about my progress on it! :readmore:

When it comes to video game cosplay, I take the easier route and rip models from the game, then modify them for cosplay. I 3D modelled a few Kamen Rider suits before and all that was a pain in general. For my sanity's sake, I plan to model as little as possible for future cosplays.

Lucky, the in-game model was well made, so I didn't have to make a lot of modifications. I had to separate some pieces, subdivide and give it some volume.

The head was given a lot of holes, so it would be lighter to wear. I had to separate the teeth and the gums because I will paint them individually.

I let my 3D printer work. Meanwhile....

Eyeballs! Molded with moldable plastic pellets. The iris part of the eye hollows inwards for a bit of that 3D look. The whole thing then got covered in 2-part epoxy to fill the cavity and make the eye shiny.

There's usually a few steps involved when it comes to painting. That is priming and then taking your time to paint something with the medium of your choice. Well, I skipped all that and decided to draw on the eye with sharpie and markers. Results were... satisfactory enough.

Time to work on the gummy teethies! I've been saving up for years on an airbrush set and I got really excited to try them for the first time.

FDM 3D prints don't come out perfect usually, so I brushed some XTC-3D (fancier 2-part epoxy) on them, and let it cure first.

With a bit of filler primer and airbrushing magic...

Teeth! Dentists in the Lands Between will make a KILLING if they ever move there.

Pretty happy with the process! I didn't bother to shade the gums because we won't see a lot of that anyway.

Did I ever tell you sewing is my least favorite part of cosplay? My specialty is more on props and armor. This image should've been flipped upside-down!

I tried to sew gloves using a free-to-use pattern I found on the internet (forgot where I got them). First one was too tight, second on was better, but still feel weird to wear. I will get these right one day!!

I bought some FUR! I shopped for a WHOLE hour at the fabric store for the right faux fur, and none of them felt like a match to Blaidd's fur. His fur was darker (than the fur in the picture, left side), with a hint of blue.

I tried to dye the fur a little bit to darken it, but not too much because I didn't want the white part of the fur to turn too dark. I used a dye for synthetic fibers. Right side of the image the the fur after soaking in hot dye solution for a few minutes (still wet)

Results? I there was only a subtle difference between then non-dyed and dyed furs! I either didn't let it bathe in the solution long enough, or I did not put enough dye in the solution.

ANYWAY I decided to just used the furs as is and airbrush the details at the end.

Now for the cloak? I was planning on tying some crochet threads together, then separate the ends with a fur brush, resulting in some fluffy ends the add on to the cape.

However, after re-examining Blaidd's cloak, I'm considering on scrapping this process because I feel like there's better materials to give out the look I want.

After assembling the mouth parts/eyes/nose, adding the lips with black moldable plastic and adding the hinge (to make the mouth movable), it's off to furring the head!

With the help of masking tape and sharpie, I went to pattern the fur. I then cut the appropriate shapes to sew.

I knew I had to cut the fabrics a bit bigger to make things fit and all, so I did that. My mistake? I realized after finishing the snout part, that I've cut the shapes TOO BIG! It did not fit the print!

So that's another thing I have to redo. Sewing is my passion (sarcasm).

This concludes part 1 of my Blaidd cosplay journal. Will there be a part 2? I don't know. It started snowing a few days ago and Winter is generally not a good time for cosplay-making. I'll have to see about this when Spring/Summer comes!

[diana-fortyseven]

A.K.A. "I wrote this instead of sleeping..."

You can find the prompt bingo right here.

It's still a work in progress, and there's so much more I want to add eventually, but everything that's already there is working.

And what's there is a lot. Like, a metric shit ton.

I've added all

Cinematic Titles

Mission Names

Mission Stories

Challenges

Destinations

of all Hitman World of Assassination Game Modes.

Some challenge prompts might look like typos to you. While I always appreciate when you point those out to me so I can fix them (seriously, please do let me know if I missed something!), please check first if there isn't an in-game challenge with that exact name, because so many of them look like I forgot how to spell. :D

Fun fact, did you know that there are roughly 1,200 challenges in the game? I wasn't joking about the "instead of sleeping" part of the title.

Additionally, there are long lists with smutty, kinky, romantic, angsty and whumpy prompts.

You can opt-out of NSFW, Shipping and Angst by not opting in (I swear this makes sense in my head right now), but if you select the theme "Romance" from the dropdown menu, you will get shippy prompts even if you don't tick the Shipping checkbox, and if you select Hurt/Comfort from the dropdown menu you will get angsty prompts even if you don't tick the Angst checkbox. I recommend ticking the Shipping or Angst checkbox if you select Romance or Hurt/Comfort for a larger pool of prompts.

You will not get NSFW prompts unless you tick the NSFW checkbox.

However, some mission stories and challenges have names that could be mistaken for NSFW prompts. I haven't put them behind the filter, and I don't know if I will do that in the future.

If you don't like a prompt, you can just re-roll that one specific prompt by clicking/tapping the field it's in.

The Themes

The bingo generator has four themed lists so far: General Prompts, Mission Fic, Romance, and Hurt/Comfort.

I will be adding more at appropriate times, such as a summer list for summer (Northern Hemisphere) or a Halloween list for Halloween. Those will be permanent additions. It's just a lot of work, and I have so many more plot bunnies and code bunnies and art bunnies, so I really have to space these updates out. xD

If you'd like to suggest a theme or donate a list of prompts, please feel free to do so!

How to Play

Create the card you want, do with it whatever you want.

You can take the prompts literally or interpret them any way you like. If it's the name of a mission story or challenge, you can use the mission story or challenge itself as a prompt, or come up with something just based on the name. If it's a pun, you can use the prompt as-is or remove the pun element from it.

Use as many or as few prompts as you want in a fic, or in a drawing, or in a daydream. You make the rules!

If you think a bingo should require a line of prompts used in one single work, cool. If you think four single works should count, that's cool too. And again, if you don't like a prompt, just re-roll it until you get one you like more.

Just have fun with it! :)

Mobile Version

The mobile version is working, but word breaks for longer words won't be pretty. I still need to add word break opportunities, but that's a lot of work, and I will probably do this in small batches over the next month or so.

If you want a prettier card, you can re-roll prompts with unpretty word breaks by tapping on the prompt you want to change.

Keyboard-Only Users

For accessibility, all prompt fields have added button functionality, which means you can use tab to select them and enter to interact with them. Your browser needs to have JavaScript enabled for that to work, though.

Now go play with it!

Or don't, I'm not your mum, I can't tell you what to do.

Final disclaimer: The platform I'm using to host my generators, Perchance, recently added AI options. My generators were not built using AI, and none of the prompts you'll get are AI generated.

My generators are all 100% handcrafted chaos. :D

If bingos are not to your liking and you'd like more detailed prompts, try my Hitman Prompt Generator!

[balkanradfem]

So, the last summer, I decided to try out the method of drying green-beans, to see if it would be a good alternative to freezing them. I love frozen green beans, but I want a method of preserving that doesn't take any energy to keep them frozen, dry stuff is shelf stable!

The way to do this is to grab a needle and a thread, stack the green beans on the thread vertically, and then hanging them up to dry. It takes them several weeks to dry, and I do have to say, they all dried properly, none went bad or started getting mold, the drying part went well! Then I put them in my big giant jar and promptly forgot about them for the whole winter.

And now, I'm going to test if they're good to eat!

Some of these are long noodle beans, and some are just normal green beans. In the container next to them are some young garlic plants I found in the field. I've decided to go and make a garlic+green bean soup, to make sure the green beans get a proper time to cook in there.

So, the method of rehydrating these is to put them in a pot, pour boiling hot water over them, and leave them to soak for an hour. This is how they looked when I took them out of the jar:

They seemed light and like there's not much substance to them, they're also pretty thin. I covered the pot and left it for an hour. In the meantime, let's look at the garlic plants. Firstly, what are they.

I sometimes forget to harvest a bulb of garlic, and then in the spring, I get 5-6 young garlic plants growing on top of each other. I tried to pry them apart and plant separately, but none of them would really go on to produce a big head of garlic. So I decided it's much more satisfying to just yank them all out and eat them in the spring as fresh garlic. The entire plant is filled with fresh garlic flavour!

I cleaned them up and separated the white parts from the green, because the white parts can be sauteed on oil, while the green parts will do better to just be cooked. I cut them in little soup-appropriate pieces.

Then I thought, well, this soup would just be so much better if there was a potato in it. Green beans and potatoes just go extremely well together. And I didn't have a young potato, all of mine have already sprouted, so I picked two that looked somewhat decent:

I know these look rough at first, but when you cut them, inside they're just fine! I didn't even peel them, just cut them in little cubes. Now let's look at how are the green beans doing:

They grew bigger! And they now feel very squishy and chewy, and there's much more weight to them, which I like. The smell coming out of them was not like a green-bean scent, it didn't smell much like anything really. I was very curious to how the water would taste where the green beans were soaking, so I tried it. And it tasted like tea. Usually when you cook some vegetable in hot water, it tastes like broth, right? Well this tasted like tea. Tea from leaves and bark. It was extremely interesting.

Anyway, I cut the green beans to little bits as well, and now we have all of the ingredients for cooking! It's going to be a very simple meal, but cool because we're just using garden stuff one can get in early spring.

I put the potatoes and salt on some oil first, because they can handle it for the longest time, and it draws out a more intense flavour in them. When they started smelling real nice, I added the garlic whites, and after a bit, garlic greens and green beans, or at this point they would be called 'leather britches', because people compare the texture of dry green beans to leather. And that's it! Extremely simple soup making. Here it is done:

I was excited to see what the flavour of green beans would be, because I was promised they have this very intense flavour, but I have to admit, this soup tasted overwhelmingly of potatoes and garlic! Which is a heavenly combination, so I loved it a lot. I was a little disappointed that I couldn't taste the green beans, I think the flavour possibly faded because I just left them sitting in a transparent jar for some 9+ months, and they should have been protected from the light better.

I could feel the texture, however, and it was okay, it was slightly leathery but by no means difficult to eat. I ended up eating the entire soup very quickly, and I have to say it was extremely sating. I felt very well fed afterwards and satisfied for hours. Food that is no trouble to store, easy to eat and sating, that sounds like a perfect thing for me.

I'll try it again this summer, but I'll see if I can eat the green beans before they lose the flavour completely, or if I could preserve it for longer by keeping them out of light, in a paper bag or a very dark spot. Possibly I should have tried putting them on oil to draw out the flavour, but I haven't thought of that at the time. I actually have a bit of them left over, because I wanted to see if they cook any different if I don't soak them first, so when I try that out, I'll put that information out as well!

[just-my-type-x]

A statement from me to u

I'm currently waiting for my food to cool down and I had the idea of putting some things into place.

I'd like to start by saying that I'm so used to dramatic shit, that nothing in the celeb world actually surprises me, nor does it affect me. When I said I'm not biased, I really meant it. The fact that I don't care about certain things a certain celeb does and my reaction is completely blank and I'm not bothered whatsoever, doesn't mean I'm biased. it simply means I don't give a shit and that that thing doesn't affect me or it's not a matter of importance for me. And because it's not a matter of importance for me, it doesn't mean I or we as a tiny group that we're on this platform should be called delusional or that we're lying to ourselves in order to feed our imaginations on something that's not real.

Secondly, fans in general should have low standards when it comes to certain celebs bc not all of them are great. I'm not saying the band fits this pattern necessarily, but there should always be room for disappointment, as I also said in the past. Therefore, the whole Brad situation can be a great example. If u met him and didn't like him, why bother go around and try to explain to people why he's shit, just ignore him and the rest. Proof or no proof, his behaviour can depend on a lot of factors, this is why I find this an irrelevant topic. Everyone says bad things, he shouldn't be held accountable for something like this just bc he's famous and almost everyone expects him to behave how they think it's appropriate for a celeb to act like. And another thing I'd like to add here is that if u've made a bad impression about himself the 1st time, u're most likely to have a biased conception about him from now on, which will look like everything he does or says is wrong.

Now, I like to think of myself as a patient person when it comes to certain subjects we approach and with people as a whole, especially if we're passionate about the same artists or topics. I don't know what that was a few days ago, if that was to test my limits or whatever, but I draw the line at being disrespectful. I want to apologize for that ask that I got which said that we should all go down together or whatever that shit said, bc none of u deserve such a statement from anybody. I should've stopped the anonymous asks right then, but I value all sorts of opinions and I am not the one to silence anybody, hence why I discuss every single topic with u guys. But to get to that extent, to which other people started sending me stuff about that ask, is disturbing.

From now on, whichever I feel like might end up like that conversation, will be deleted from my inbox. I also draw the line on that topic. I promise I'll do all my manifesting to meet Brad and give u a full-on review (😂 let's joke for a second cuz I don't like being so serious, and I'm also not making fun of that anon, I'm pretty serious also about that bc I know people don't talk just to keep themselves busy. I also leave a full-on possibility of the anon being right, wrong, being in the middle and so on).

Ending it in a light note, love u all and thank u for these years on this platform and I'm looking forward the next gossip session ♥️🌺

[dausy]

oh my, I feel like I've spent a lot of money on myself recently.

I'm trying to work on painting this weekend. I have a long weekend this weekend. So far I'm scheduled to work wed-fri if I don't get a call but I have a dental appointment and hair appointment this week. Theres an interesting breed of drama at work and I think I'm getting too old for this. I just learned I'm literally older than a couple of doctors. I've officially reached that stage of my life where I can be older than doctors. So weird. On the scale of complaints I've had about workplace drama before this has to be some of the most benign complaints I've ever heard and I'm like "do you guys not hear yourselves?". Its just such a non-dangerous issue, that I can't even imagine wanting to complain about it. To me its like a spa day and yall are complaining about some weird stuff. Like come on.

But I keep picking up shifts because its essentially easy money but I'm also dirt tired and cranky. Wearing lead for 8-10 hours a day is also killing my upper back. I don't think permanent OR nursing is in my future. So its affecting my ability to be creative. I'm getting home at 5-6pm and plooping on the couch. I can't draw unless theres lovely sun out.

I still think my spanish is improving despite me getting hit hard with the reality that I don't know what the hell I'm saying often. But I'm still learning new things every day and I'm researching new ways to say things all the time. I think what honestly hurts the most is I keep seeing tiktoks on "white women who did a duolingo lesson once" which is in parts funny, I get it. But also, is me trying to speak with my patients making me fall under this category? am I just another white woman who duolingos? I just want to be effective at my job and communicate where appropriate.

I've also spent a small fortune. I feel like I should do a haul with just stuff I've purchased recently but none of it is art related (sort of). Other than I still have to PPE up at work, my face getting exposure to real air has made me appreciate a little bit of the skin care and make up type luxuries..2 make up items will cost a pretty penny. I got some new make up brushes and got some new things for this ball I have coming up. I just kinda want to look pretty. I'm feeling girly, I want the make up, the cute clothes and shoes etc. But we're just buying make up so far right now.

I also got 2 new work out shirts and a sports bra. I've gotten a wittle chunky this past year and my shirts are riding up. I'ma maybe use those extra calories for some hopeful gym gains. Hopefully I can rev up the gym-going when my husband gets deployed.

shoes, I got some new shoes for work and a new phone case. We also went on a really fancy date night that long ago and me not having a purse was kind of a nuisance so I got a new purse (or two). We have a lot of day trips coming up as my husband is trying to maximize family time before he's gone for the next year. I kinda want to look cute maybe so one of the purses is like a day trip bag.

anyway, I still want to order a couple of things but itll need to wait til the next paycheck.

[askthefivefallen]

A: *she opens her mouth to continue the fight, because there were some assumptions in there that she wants to fucking address, but memories suddenly flash through her mind. She's doing it again, what she's always done- someone gets on her case and she gets defensive, she lashes out, she fights back, even if it ends up making things worse for her. This was the ugly side of herself she'd tried so hard to control around Emily because the seraph didn't deserve to be treated like this*

A: *the fight goes out of her instantly. This isn't what she wants. Now Emily's pissed at her- or, well, even more pissed- and turned away, curled in on herself. And Ass is the angry beast destroying everything around her...*

... thanks...

It seemed appropriate to intervene.

Yeah. Good call.

Do you... know what to do now?

I don't know what I should do... but I know what I'm gonna do... can you get this armor off me somehow? Just don't-

I understand.

Shamira takes over to snap her fingers, sending her armor away and leaving her in her gambeson, pants, and boots. Although it pained her to do so, she dismissed her gloves as well, aware that Ass preferred being able to feel with her fingers and the thickness of the gloves bothered her. Then, she stepped back.

A: *she draws in a deep breath far easier now that the holy armor is gone; the gambeson, while uncomfortable, is nowhere near as stifling* "Well... now you see why everyone else hates me. I screw up, I get defensive, I get angry, and I make it worse- and I've done that so many times that it took me fighting tooth and nail to keep that part of me hidden from you. Not because I wanted to hide but because I never wanted to be the one to hurt you; I just... wanted to make you happy. I wanted to be the one who brought you joy. But I screwed up. I got defensive. I got angry. I made it worse. And I hurt you. And I'm sorry, Emily. I'm having conversations in my head and out loud and I'm not sure who I'm telling what. I'm still exhausted- Shamira was right about that. And I just want this to magically... be okay. No one plans to share their body in a very literal sense with a whole other person. Share their memories... their life... but here I am. I just... want everything to work out. I want to move past the bad because we were so happy before. Waking up together, being pragmatic about not showering together because we had work to do, spicy waffles and messy syrup- I just want that back."

A: *she feels the urge to cry rise up and she stamps it down like the dying embers of a fire* "None of this is your fault, Emily. And it's not Shamira's, I- fuck, I don't- I've done a lot of stupid shit but I guess I decided to grab a shovel and start digging to see how dumb I could be. Set that bar real fuckin' low." *she sighs and pushes herself to her feet, taking a few tentative steps forward* "I never assumed you would fall for Shamira; I just wanted her to know the possibility was there because I wish someone had told me that when... well, I guess someone did tell me that, but... I didn't believe them. Why would someone like you- a seraph with a heart of gold, who cares about so many people, who sees the good in Sinners and Hellborn- bother with an ex murder angel who treats everyone around her like garbage, even the most important person, the one she holds closest to her heart? I was literally laying on top of you, and in your bed and I still thought... maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. And Shamira's... good- and you don't have to dig that deep to find it. She's confused and struggling but she's trying; she'll get the hang of it eventually."

A: *she almost reaches out to put her hands on Emily's hips and pull her into an embrace... but, no; the seraph is rightly upset with her and she doesn't have the right* "Shamira is uncomfortable with seeing you naked in the flesh because she has feelings for you she knows are unrequited. I told you I wanna just bury myself inside of you and lose myself for a bit. But, Shamira's not quite there yet- she's doesn't think she's earned that, even by proxy. She really liked you tossing her through portals- because we both think you're strong and sexy." *she shook her head and shrugged while looking down at her feet* "There's a lot I didn't say last night- and, yeah, it was unfair, but I have one person basically reading my mind and I just... tried to walk a razor thin line. I stayed silent this morning so you two could talk, get to know each other, but... it hurt- not you two talking. Shamira's armor is holy, Emily; it hurts me when she wears it."

How did I not- no, how did you manage to master suppressing yourself so quickly?

That's on you for underestimating me. Also, c'mon, you think I don't know how to hide pain? Granted, it's a lot harder when it's a stab wound, but this was barely anything in comparison. Like a million very persistent mosquitos.

... fair. I won't summon it again.

A: "And, now that she knows, she's not going to summon it again." *she sighs* "And... that sucks because I know her armor brings her comfort. This is hard, Em. It's really fucking hard." *she sinks down to her knees, head still bowed* "I don't- I just want you to be you, Emily. You're still the same person I fell in love with, despite how the past few days have changed us both. Please... don't give up on me yet. I'm an Ass... but I'm still your Ass."

There is a peace and tranquility to the early morning. Usually, there’s no motion whatsoever, but here and now, there is the gentle sound and motion of Emily’s breathing. In the dim morning light, Emily looks so very gentle, and soft, and peaceful, but there’s a small pinch to her brow that speaks of ill thoughts. She moves her hand, lightly drawing fingertips across Emily’s brow, carefully pushing her hair back.

Emily deserves rest but she’s had more than enough. She contents herself with watching, standing vigil as usual.

((@askthefivefallen))

"Well, it doesn't matter~. She won't have such a vulgar name after what will be done to her~. Consider it... an upgrade". Adina’s eyes were filled with glee even as tears soaked down her cheeks. Emily saw red.

Shamira shook her head as Emily begged, pleaded, fought and cried for Ass. She meant no malice, it even seemed like she would have given her back had she the option. It didn’t matter. Emily saw red.

“I didn't want her to hurt you, Emily. The last thing I want is for someone to take advantage of you and break your heart.” Sera’s face was smiling. Emily saw red.

The vision changed again and she was sitting in front of the high council, only a few years after her creation. She was groomed by the high seraphim, the will of heaven herself. She was meant for greatness, a position on the court, Lucifer’s position. It was why the divine had sent her here, she was told. To fix what he had broken. To repair what he had ripped apart. To bring order to the chaos that heaven had become. Perhaps to even take part in the divine act of creation itself. She’d spent her entire life thus far under rigorous testing, constant trials, going from lesson to lesson with very minimal breaks in between.

But Sera was good, Sera was kind. She held her hands in hers and told her that she was proud of her and knew that one day she would be a fully fledged Seraphim. One day she would honor all of heaven.

But the court didn’t agree. Sera argued that despite her naivety, thoughtlessness, impulsivity and her inability to keep her emotions in check, she would make an excellent addition to the court. A fresh perspective from the divine themselves. The court still ruled against Sera and Emily, stating that she was unqualified to set an example of a true seraphim.

One of the Seraphim leaned forward, her head cocked to the side as a smile pulled the corners of her mouth up into a deceitfully warm grin. “Well she has to have a job, doesn’t she? It would be sinful to let her fall to sloth, hm?” The voice was almost condescending and Emily glared up at her. Why was she being so unkind? This was heaven, wasn’t everyone supposed to be kind?

“She is incompetent, unskilled, weak, unfit to lead, and incapable of keeping secret those truths which we hold dear to us. Under what circumstances could she possibly do anything worthy of a seraphim?” The words stung, just as the others all had. This session had gone on all day and Emily was tired of hearing how awful she had done these past few years.

“While I don’t disagree that the candidate is unsuitable and unbecoming, she still needs to contribute in some way if she is going to be in heaven. Since she’s too much of a crybaby to do any of the heavier lifting in our political realm, why not give her something easy, Sera? How about joy?” Emily watched as Sera glared up at the Seraphim. The disrespect in her words was absolutely palpable and Emily wanted nothing more than to cry and perhaps just give up on being a part of the court, but she didn’t want to disappoint Sera. She just wanted her to be proud of her.

Sera went to open her mouth but was interrupted by another court member, “Joy! What a splendid idea! We need a joy bringer, she’d be the first thing the winners see when they get here! She’d fit right in with her being so incompatible with the other seraphim. Her awkward, irrelevant, unprofessional attitude might actually serve to connect her better with the mortals coming in from such a sinful place as the living mortal realm.” The seraphim laughed lightly but the sound grated on Emily’s ears, making them burn golden. “The fact of the matter is, this specimen is motivated by a logic unbecoming of the highest of seraphim, to put her on the court would be a disservice to all of heaven. Joy bringer would give her some sort of position without giving her any actual authority. It’s a fool proof plan, really.” She leaned back, satisfied with her statement and Emily looked down at her feet to avoid seeing her cruel smile.

Sera glared up at her court, but when she realized there was no saving this she released the breath she’d been holding. “I suppose you’re correct. She would be the perfect face of heaven and the winners would be blessed to have her. Let’s take it to a vote shall we? We can draw up a contract and list of responsibilities this weekend if we are in agreement.”

The vote passed and court was finally dismissed. Emily followed Sera back to her office wordlessly and sat down across from her mentor. “Well, I think that went… well I’m going to look on the bright side! This could be good for me! Who knows what I might-

“This is not a good thing Emily!” Sera’s voice boomed in the large office, her hands slamming against the desk and her nostrils flared as she looked down at her ward. “Do you understand what they just did to you? Do you even know what your job is meant to be? Do you know what your grand purpose has become? Emily, you have been put below the winners in their eyes. Doomed to serve.”

Emily’s eyes welled up with tears and she let them fall. She glared up at Sera though as a feeling she was unfamiliar with overtook her.

Emily saw red.

The court room was so loud as Lute and Adam argued with Charlie and threatened to murder her and her family. Is this what the court meant by secret truths they hold dear to them? Murdering human souls by the thousands yearly? That’s the knowledge they had been withholding from her?

Emily saw red.

The flame was going cold, so, so, so cold. She tried to nurture it back to its former glory in her hands, feeding what she could into it but nothing she did was enough. Nothing she could carry to the flame would bring it back. So Emily went to the place where the flame began and hoped that she’d either be burned alive or die trying. She didn’t want to be cold, she wanted to be burned, she wanted to be light! But if there was no more flame than it was best that her icy heart shatter on the brimstone forever.

The story was supposed to end when Ass catches her.

She doesn’t.

Emily sees black.

*Emily wakes up with a start, falling into the bed where she had slept at least somewhat soundly the entire night. Ass is heavy against her and she’s grateful for the weight reminding her that things are alright, she is okay, she is safe*

*She’s not sure if she is worried for her own safety or Ass’s*

[silverbladexyz]

hello!!! I'd like to request some hcs for my believed Ayatsuji Yukito with a gn!reader who's not very good in things related to calculations, chem and all that but very well versed in creatives fields? like plays instruments, draws a lot and knows a lot of literary references :D thank u sm and have a nice day keke

Helloooooo!!! Reader is kind of like me; while calculations and chemistry and anything to do with maths is doable, I'm actually more of a creative person lmao.

The image used is not mine. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: None

Ayatsuji with a GN!S/O who is well versed in creative fields

-Okay, well Ayatsuji teased you a lot at first about maths, science, just anything in that field which requires the left side of the brain

-Like he knows that he's smarter than most people, but he's never met a person who couldn't find the integral of 1/2x^2. Sometimes he wonders if he should get a tutor for you

-But one day you actually helped him solve a case, despite his impressions of you. Ayatsuji was ready to tear his hair out because he just couldn't get an impression of the perpetrator, but you actually managed to draw a very vivid and accurate picture of the perpetrator according to the witness's descriptions and clues

-This caused Ayatsuji to think twice of you. You'll find that after a little while, he would start asking you for your help on his cases. Your drawings were always accurate and never failed to help him catch the murderer. It wasn't long before he fell for your creative side

-When you two got into a relationship, he was curious about your creativeness, and often asked you about your hobbies. I feel like Ayatsuji is one to appreciate art and artistic talents, but he's never had that much time to admire art in general because of his occupation

-Play some pieces for him on your instruments! Doesn't matter if it's a Bach fugue or a nocturne by Chopin, Ayatsuji will love it, because he seems like the type to like classical music as it's more complex and fun to analyse. He likes listening to you play in silence, while sipping a coffee or gazing at the sunset. You even offered to teach him how to play your instruments, and he took you up on your offer, but he still prefers listening to you play

-I feel like Ayatsuji finds the trait of using literary references in appropriate places attractive. Like it makes the person seem more fancy and sophisticated, and he definitely likes people like that. So he might even have a battle of literary references with you sometimes just to see how much you knew actually he does that because he thinks your smexy when you’re saying them

-Also likes to look at your drawings when you’re done with them. Now he will actually critique them a bit, but he mostly praises you and tells you what a good job you’ve done. You drew him once and now Ayatsuji treasures that drawing forever

-Since you’re creative, Ayatsuji is so going to make dolls with you. Now you actually add some extra decorations and style to the dolls that you create, and it’s a fresh contrast to the usual dolls that are stored in his basement. He loves your creativeness when it comes to dolls, and he shows it to nobody else apart from himself

-Now he will actually try to teach you math, science, physics, just anything that needs logic to figure the answer out. While he will still tease you every now and then, he’ll be chill and find out how you learn the best. Also gives you breaks when he sees your brain about to explode from all the calculations

-Your strengths fit with his perfectly; him being logical and you being creative. With this mix, no criminal dares to go up against you two now. Talk about a soft power couple, am I right?

-You two are Tsujimura’s OTP and she is already making all the wedding cards and organisation for your marriage with Ayatsuji already invite me please

@pixyys @pianotross @nekokinax @i-just-like-goats @xxelfmamaxx @yuugen-benni @yukitomybeloved @sariel626 @lakeside-paradise @arisu-chan4646  @catzlivedforbsd

[ot3]

first of all, i am violently in love your ace attorney fancomic. that one panel of mia in the elevator and edgeworth on the stairs sitting back to back lives rent free in my head, i think abt it every 3-5 business days and go feral. tysm <3 second, would you ever consider showing us ur process behind it? like how you plan it, the dialog + composition, etc? id personally love to get that insight !!

thank you so much!!!

i actually do have a TON of behind the scenes/process stuff up on my patreon for $2. every thumbnail/color rough/scrapped page comp i've done is up there, and i've been writing detailed commentary on the comic as a whole because it's something people expressed an interest in reading. there's a decent amount of it right now and ill have a new batch of commentary up sometime in the next few days

as for more generalized stuff about process ill stick that here under the cut but unfortunately it is going to be EXTREMELY unhelpful because my process habits are very bad.

so as for prewriting/pre-planning i do almost none of it. i've been trying to get better at doing that but i get so so so bored of that so fast. here's a screenshot of my first outline, cropped to just show everything i've drawn so far.

as you can see this all means pretty much nothing and i also didnt quite follow it. we didn't get the mia and greg postmortem and swiss rolls stuff for turnabout samurai because i later decided to scrap it. later down in this document there are slightly more detailed notes about some specific scenes, but really its all super lose.

Recently i tried to write a more detailed outline for the upcoming parts of the comic, and the stuff that happened in this most recent batch of pages was documented there pretty well

but already the stuff i wrote in this outline for later batches is not accurate to what i want anymore so to be honest the outlines are kind of a wash for me. what's really the meat of my pre-planning process is i just have a private discord server where i dump notes.

the reason i use a discord server for this is because its super easily accessible from every device i have, and doesnt require backing up between locations. i also just dump chunks of canon text in there that i want to pull exact dialogue from when i'm doing my transcript rereads.

a lot of these notes are completely useless and redundant

most of them are snippets of dialogue i want to put in on later pages. almost none of this dialogue will ever be used. for starters, a lot of it is different takes on the exact same handful of scenes and so by default are mutually exclusive bits of content. i like to just dump as many ideas as i have in there even if theyre contradictory, and then just read back through and pick my favorite/most appropriate ones as i get to actually drawing whats coming up.

every now and then ill dump all this in a google doc and arrange it roughly chronologically so related takes go together, but i havent done that in like six months so its all just a huge mess right now.

the reason i can get away with such bare bones planning is because i have a very strong mechanical understanding of how this story is supposed to function. in the two and a half years that has gone by since i came up with the idea and started working on it, almost nothing has fundamentally changed in my big picture narrative goals. knowing the exact shape of what i'm building towards makes it really easy to let the more minute details come to me in the moment. they either are congruent with that end goal, in which case they can stay, or they're more extraneous/irrelevant in which case they get cut.

when i get stuck, more often than not i just slide into mia @demonkix's dms and make her hear out my rambling. thanks mia. shoutout to mia.

now, here's probably one of my biggest sins: i do not script anything. there is no finalized dialogue until i am writing it directly onto the page. unless i'm directly lifting from the text, that is. ill have a rough idea of what needs to be said in each page when im drafting, and sometimes i'll write in rough dialogue on the draft. but most of the time ill just sketch out the approximation of the speech bubble andd either leave it fully blank or jot in one or two keywords in to remind me of what the dialogue should be. then the actual dialogue gets written in once the art is finished

do not do this. i can not stress how frustrating this is for myself. i do this every time and i always hate it.

the reason i dont bother with any proper scripting is because the dialogue bends to the art. not the other way around. a massive amount of my process is dictated by what im in the mood to draw, and by keeping the actual character interactions as flexible as possible until the art is done, i can ensure i dont get stuck at key points because the thing that has to happen is something i dont feel like drawing.

in general, my process for drafting pages is just rough thumbnail -> color rough -> go actually draw the damn thing

however there ill be times when i just do not bother drafting at all and jump immediately into drawing a page. if you go look at the stuff on patreon youll see that in the beginning i pretty much just drew everything after the first batch straight through.

this comic is a lot of work so the most important thing is that hte process is fun for me. i really hate granular planning and itd just slow me down a ton so the process is really just vibes from point a to point b. hope this somewhat answers your question

i talk about my general approach to comic composition in my big composition writeup too, which is pinned, if thats something youre interested in.

[softsebnbuckystan]

Souls ties - Part 3 (Bucky Barnes au)

"I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met"

The sun had set a while ago and the band had been replaced by speakers, meaning the party was coming to an end, even though you still hadn't properly talked to Bucky. You  knew you probably should've payed more attention to your own husband but Darren seemed to enjoy himself more around his college friends. It would've driven you mad, had it been a regular party. Oddly enough, his behaviour that night didn't bother you as much as it should've. One might say your attention was elsewhere. It was late, and you were thirsty for water after all the champagne and hors-d'oeuvres you'd had. You were positive your rosy cheeks attested for it. At the bar, you took a minute for yourself and sat down, taking this occasion to relieve your feet from your high-heel shoes. The night's fresh air made the hair on your neck stand on end and your body's instinct was to shiver, even though the weather was still quite nice. Your body tensed up as you felt a presence at your side.

"Feeling a little tired there?" he asked. You were starting to know this voice now, and it was like music to your ears.

"I needed to be away from the crowd for a moment," you confessed.

"Oh, I can leave if you want."

This made you look at him instantly. "No, stay." You realised how pressing you must've sound and chuckled at his confused eyes – which had a beautiful shade of blue in the moonlight. "I mean...I didn't want to get away  from you, specifically. Sorry if it sounded that way."

"I'd get it, you know," Bucky said. "What happened earlier..."

"...was disturbing for us both, I assume."

Bucky didn't say anything about you interrupting him. It felt natural, actually, almost like finishing his sentence rather than rudely stopping him mid-speech.  "Yeah, exactly," he continued. "I'm really sorry if that caused you...any pain or something."

"What? The coffee?" you asked naïvely. "Don't worry, it wasn't that hot," you said with a wink.

A faint smile appeared on Bucky's lips, making you notice both how he hadn't smiled much until then and that it lightened up his face in a touching way.

"I meant pain as in fear, or anxiety. Your wedding mustn't be the place you expected to hear those words." He looked you in the eyes and you  shivered once more. "Are you cold?"

You shook your head no before looking down to your knees. His eyes on you were making you  feel all sorts of ways you wouldn't dream of sharing with anyone. "No, I'm not," you said. Taking a careful breath in, you decided to glance at him. Your eyes paused at the same time as your lungs, taken away by the beauty of the man's face. Something behind his blue iris was beyond description and drove you even more eager to get to know him, his story, his passions and pet-peeves, his everything. He'd seemed to have stopped breathing for a second as well, but you weren't entirely sure it hadn't been a figment of your imagination.

"Maybe we should go back to the others," you whispered. You tried getting off your stool and slipped next to your shoe. Bucky moved fast to grab you with his arm and prevent you from hitting the ground. His grip was firm –  exaggeratedly firm. You brushed off the sensation of his leather glove on your back and thanked him hastily before going back to Steve.

"Are you okay?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Yeah, sure." You knew he wasn't fooled by your answer ; Steve knew you better than you knew yourself. Bucky stayed silent for a while after that, and neither of you seemed to fathom what to do next.

---

"Ready to go, honey?"

You opened surprised eyes at Darren's question. It was barely past midnight.

"Darren, we can't leave before the other guests, c'mon..."

Your husband looked disappointed and now that most of your shock had gone away, his attitude was slowly driving you mad, especially when you gave deeper thought to his actions and words throughout the day.

"Do you even want to be here at all?" you asked him, somewhat dryly.

"Calm down, y/n. We've been here forever and I wanna rest for the night. Is that too much to ask?"

"Resting on your wedding night? Yeah,  that's a lot to ask for," you replied. "I thought we were going to party until the end and have fun with our friends before going home. Consensual marriage is supposed to be celebrated, don't you know that? Ugh, you really are a buzzkill sometimes."

"Wow, easy there. If you want to stay,  fine. But I'm going home."

"Are you serious right now?" Your stomach was burning with anger and disappointment. You loved Darren, but this kind of behaviour had become a habit of his. "You're going to leave me alone at our wedding party?"

"You're not alone, you have Steve and Wanda and...whoever that guy is over there. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Damn it, Darren, that's not fair!"

Wanda's eyes turning towards you made you realise how loud your voices had been and you lowered yours a notch.

"Fine, go home. But don't expect me to be all smiles when I join you, if I even do."

Upon those words, you turned around and walked away from him. You were perfectly aware that there was no point in reasoning with him at this point. You ended up going back to your group and were surprised to see that Steve and Wanda had walked away as well, leaving Bucky alone.

"Where are they  going?" you asked, still angry from what'd just happened.

"They're grabbing more drinks. Wanda said she'd choose something for you since you were...busy."

You brought your hand to your forehead, ashamed that he'd heard you losing your temper.

"Sorry about that. He's just...difficult, sometimes."

"I saw that," he said with his hands in his pockets, "and no need to be sorry." You could see him take a deep breath in before he kept talking, even  though he was trying hard to look as calm and composed as possible. "Come, let's take a walk. It'll help you blow off some steam."

You followed Bucky through the garden and as you drifted away from the crowd, hearing less and less voices, a soothing feeling filled your body and mind. You took deep breaths in and deep breaths out, taking in the bucolic smell of the close-by forest. The only thing left bothering you were your shoes, and you made the call to take them off, leaning on Bucky's shoulder without even thinking about it. He stopped to let you do it.

"Here, let me hold them." He gently grabbed your shoes by the heels and carried them for the way.

"Thank you." You took a peek at him and smiled. "How did you know a walk would calm me down?"

"I...I  just did," he answered with a shrug. "Did it work?"

"It's starting to." You smiled at him ingenuously, taking in some of his features at the same time. The slight crook of his nose, the rebellious hair on his neck...  A question was burning your lips. It was just the two of you, so you might as well just ask. "Did you ever give much thought to what your tattoo said?"

He didn't seem taken aback by your question. At least you didn't think he was, even though his emotions were hard to read.

"Not really. I just assumed someone would pay me a compliment out of the blue  and confuse the hell out of me." He chuckled for the first time since you'd met him and you got a feeling that didn't happen often. He stopped quickly, as would a kid caught red-handed. "You?"

"I had lots of scenarios in my head. Someone bumping into me, stepping on my feet or even running me over with a car...I mean, that sentence could've been said at many occasions, really."

"It's true, though I don't think saying 'shit, I'm sorry' would be an appropriate apology after running somebody over with a car."

You laughed at his remark and nodded in agreement.

"True. It is only an appropriate apology for spilling coffee all over someone," you teased.

You couldn't even hear the music the speakers were playing anymore, only the insects buzzing and leaves brushing against each other. As you walked, you got dangerously closer to Bucky. You knew what your body was doing, where your legs were taking you, but you had no idea why  they were doing it. You shouldn't have been standing so close to him, especially on your wedding night. Your hand accidentally brushed against his leather glove and he moved away. His movement wasn't big enough to call it an act of repulsion, but you also didn't know why exactly he didn't want to be close to you.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I just..."

"...want to be close. I know." He sighed and stopped walking. "It's a weird feeling and I didn't think you...I thought you weren't feeling it."

"What? The feeling that draws me to you and that I can't control? Of course I feel that. I've...I've met you hours ago, and yet..."

"You feel a connection that dates to much longer than that," he finished.

"Exactly. I couldn't really put words on it but...yeah. That's what it feels like."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Steve wanted me to come here for some reason and I..."

"Don't say you shouldn't have come, please."

He looked back at you and saw you'd been staring at your feet saying that sentence. His face changed in an instant.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Not at all, actually... If I hadn't been there tonight, you might have actually enjoyed your wedding."

"I did enjoy it," you replied in a hurry. "Just not the way I imagined." You stared into his eyes,  trying to understand what he was feeling in this very moment. "We'll see each other again, right?"

"That might not be a good idea, as much as I would want to."

"But...as my sister always tells me, soulmates don't have to be romantic. I can be happily married and still get to know you....can I?"

He tightened his lips, thinking about his answer. His face gave you no clue as to what he truly wanted, but the answer he gave you might have been an indication.

"You can try. I can try."

---

Part 3 is where I chose to start the fluff haha! I hope you enjoyed this part. It felt quite cute writing it, so I hope the final result is :)

tag list:

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ FLOWERS AND BEERS ❜

Part I.

with Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 2k.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

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The klaxon sounding outside and calling your attention, pushes you out of your thoughts. You weren't sure about what kind of outfit would be appropriate, being this your first date ever. Putting on the skirt of the black tight dress well, to get the wrinkles out, you grab your bag to hand it in a shoulder. Keeping your keys inside it, as you go downstairs, you can't help but show him a shy smile on your lips when you see Coco resting against the pilot seat. Thinking how good the black baseball cap on backwards fits on him, he welcomes you between his arms, narrowing you under his grip for a second.

“Ready?” He's trying to hide his nerves, the same you're feeling and getting mixed with the tickles in your belly. You nod.

He follows you to the other side of the car, to open the door for you. By the gesture on his face, you are very sure that it's the first time he does something like that. Stepping in, he closes it without a word, securing the seat belt over your chest and waist in the meantime that he takes a place by your side. The plan is simple, but amazing. Dinner at the fair in Santa Madre and then, maybe, a walk. Whatever is enough for you two, after the way you met some weeks ago. But even if you were almost dying to be close to the other, the road to the mexicali border is quiet and silent. Only the latin music through the speakers breaks it.

Once the Mayan has parked the car, you two get out of it. You can't help but let your eyes travel around the place. There are a lot of colorful lights, people everywhere. You can hear the laughs of everyone walking next to you, children running from one side to another, and more music. You like it. It's like a site you would go if you were sad. That happiness wrapping you, draws a smile on your lips, unconsciously, with your orbs finding Coco's. He chuckles watching you admire the fair as a child would do. One of his arms ends up over your shoulders, mingling with the crowd and looking for one of those food trucks installed there. Following the smell of fried frijoles, you urge him to walk a little faster, raising your nose to take a deep breath by it.

“That's the one”. You sentence, pointing at it.

“You sure, mami?” He laughs.

“Yes”. Nodding firmly, you place yourself at the end of the row.

For some reason, maybe for inertia, you intertwine your fingers with the long ones hanging over your shoulder, before placing your other arm around his lower back. You feel comfortable in that position, waiting to be attended to.

“So, what you want t—”.

You can't finish the question, when his phone starts to ring. Clicking his tongue, Coco rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, gotta answer, I'll be back in a moment. Order whatever you want”.

A little disappointed, he disappears from your visual field almost suddenly. Puckering your lips, you turn back to the food truck, taking some steps to the counter. You aren't sure of his tastes, so you order a piece of every taco on the menu and two beers. In the meantime you look for your purse inside your bag, but when you're about to pay, the mexican appears putting fifteen dollars over it.

“Nah, c'mon, I wanna buy you”. Even if you complain, he doesn't care.

“Next date”. He replies.

His arm is back to your shoulders, making you feel strangely protected. But that sensation turns to one more nervous when he places a soft kiss on your temple. The nice shivers run your spine, and you can't help but surround his waist with your arms. A fleeting hug happens between you two, intensifying the tickles within your belly. He smells so good, flooding your lungs with his scent even if you don't want to. It's inevitable. But the gesture, much to your regret, gets broken when the order is ready. Guiding your steps to a picnic table, unlike others couples there, you sit together. Arm by arm.

“Damn, I'm starving”. He whispers, a little fascinated for your good taste, when he opens the cardboard box.

Luckily, you have made the right choice.

“But you are from Mexico!” He says a little surprised, with an incredulous gesture on his face.

“So, what?”

“How is it possible that you don' like guacamole?”

“You don't like corn! And that's the main ingredient of our recipes”.

“Nah, I don' like raw corn, you know… I eat it when it's cooked”.

“What a shame”. You laugh, covering your mouth with a hand just for a moment.

“Shame on you, mami! You're the one who doesn' like guacamole”.

“Okay, let's make a deal”.

Coco places himself in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. Curious.

“Next date, I will take you out to a mexican restaurant. In Yuma. A friend told me about it. So… You will try raw corn, and I will try guacamole”. You propose poking his chest with your forefinger.

“Deal”. He nods offering you a hand.

Narrowing it with yours, he doesn't waste time to put back his arm on your shoulders, without loosening the grip. Getting mixed between the crowd, he leads you to one of the stalls. A shooting one. Raising an eyebrow, you look for his dark eyes wrinkling your nose.

“Wanna impress me?” You chuckle. “Will you hit a single one?”

“One?” He pretends to be indignated. “Watch out, mami”.

Taking off the baseball cap, he puts it on you, palming the top of your hair to look for some dollars inside his wallet. As soon as he has the rifle between his arms, the mechanism starts to move all the wooden ducks. Putting his elbows over the counter, he leans forward, placing his right eye on the peephole. The shots are fast and accurate. Poor ducks. Yes, you are impressed, but you don't show it more like puckering your lips with a soft smile.

“See?” Coco raises his chin with a proud gesture, before pointing at the bigger stuffed animals. “Choose”.

“That one, please”. You mumble to the stalls owner, with your eyes over a big white seal with googly eyes.

Coco is happy seeing you carrying it all around the fair, even if you have your hands on it and not on him. Having a walk and sharing a blue cotton candy, he can't help but focus on his baseball cap on you. It looks good. For him, you look like an angel. Always wearing that smile that makes his heart flutter. But what gives him curiosity enough to push him into his thoughts is the fact that you didn't ask about his aim. Like if you don't care. Not in the way that you don't want to know things about him, but in the way that you know what is going on on Santo Padre and its surroundings. And you accept it.

“Earth to Coco, earth to Coco”. Imitating the sound of a broken radio, the mexican looks at you. Laughing like two idiots, he shakes his head. “What about the ferris wheel?”

“You wanna ride there, ah?”

“Yes. What? Are you gonna tell me you're afraid of heights?”

“You're challengin' me a lot tonight…”

“Just a little”. Holding the seal with an arm, you make a gesture with two fingers from your free hand. “Lemme ask that guy if he can keep my new friend”.

Coco simply nods, placing himself at the end of the row, while you walk towards the stall. Knocking the window, the old man with a friendly look attends you opening the door.

“¿Sí, chamaquita?”

“¿Puedo pedirle dos favores?” (Can I ask you two favors?) The man laughs, maybe you are too evident. Giving him twenty dollars and the seal, he understands. “Muchas gracias”.

“Disfruta, niña”. (Enjoy, kid)

Now your arms can surround Coco again, who kisses this time your cheek.

“Ready?”

“Ready”.

From there, you can see all around you. Santa Madre, the border, Santo Padre and all their surroundings, with the desert. The views are simply amazing, resting your temple on his shoulder. You could be there for an eternity, just with him, feeling his fingers caressing your cheek so gently that give you some soft chills. Your heart jumps slightly when the ferris wheel suddenly stops. Of course, you were expecting it.

“¡Denme un momento!” (Give me a second!) The old man steps out from his stalls, feigning that something isn't working.

“The lucky ones”. You joke then, as if it wasn't your idea.

“Nah, don' worry, I protect you, mami”. Coco says, closing his arms around you a little tightly.

“Yeah, I'm double lucky”. Chuckling, and focusing on the fact that he doesn't look worried, you squint for a second.

“What?”

“Nothing”. You laugh loud.

But this melodic sound ends up drowning onto his lips, when he presses yours with his. For inertia, you close your eyes. Your hands travel to his chest and the back of his neck, pushing yourself a little closer. Your mouths look like the pieces of a puzzle, destined to fit with the other. Taking his time, Coco slides his tongue into your cavity, tasting your saliva until he finds yours. Both touching slightly, but making you feel countless sensations, tangling your fingers on his shirt. The slow gesture is turning itself in your favorite thing ever, until it gets interrupted by the attraction working again. Your laughs rhythmic his, so close that you can almost drink each other's.

Much to your regret, the night has to have an end. It's late and both of you work the next day. Actually, you have to wake up in less than six hours. But it's worth the tiredness. Parking in front of your house, in the same place you found him some hours ago, you step out of it as he does. Taking off the baseball cap, you offer to him back, but he shakes his head denying it.

“Keep'et, so you can wear it on our next date”.

“Okay”. Smirking at him, you grab the big stuffed animal under an arm.

His hands go straight to your lower back, hugging you against his chest. You don't want him to go, but he has to. Even if he doesn't want either.

“Did you have fun?” Coco whispers onto your ear, you just nod.

“Tell me… something”.

Putting yourself away from him and licking your bottom lip for a second, you twist your neck a little to the side.

“Did you… pay that man to stop the ferris wheel?”

“Ah… Well…” He says, somewhat nervous. “Yeah, maybe… Sorry, I tho—”.

“I did it too”.

The mexican stays in silence for a second, before breaking into laughter.

“That motherfucker scammed us!”

“Yeah, we're a little dorks…” You nod then. “Okay, ahm… I gotta go…”

“It's okay, gotta too”.

His lips come back to yours, as you were craving since the first kiss ended. Again, his soft caresses make you lose the north. Your fingers stroke his scalp, running the tip of your nails down to his nape.

“Will you text me tomorrow?”

He sounds worried, even if he tries to hide it, touching your nose with his and his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah, maybe…”

“Maybe?”

Tickling your sides, he makes you laugh loud again, before attracting you between his arms to hug you tightly.

“I will, I own you a second dinner”.

“That's true”.

“Good night, Coco”.

“Sleep good, mami”.

Grabbing the seal with both hands, you leave a last kiss onto his lips, before guiding yourself to the main door of the building. Once that he sees light inside your flat, through the windows, making sure you are at home, he leaves with a huge smile on his lips. The crew is waiting for him at the clubhouse, to know how the date was.

[batgurl1989]

A Wolf in Toussaint Chapter Four

Summary: Geralt and You meet with the Duchess and go shopping in Beauclair

Word Count: 2828

Warnings: spoilers

A/N: this has not been proofread, so all the mistakes are my own. Tag list is open.

Taglist: @rmtndew @djinny-djin-djin @seanh-boredom @princesssterek @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl @diegos-butt @lharrietg

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

When you had arrived at the palace, an attendant had shown you and Geralt to a wide balcony where lunch had been set up on a table. The Duchess was waiting, drumming her fingers on the table, a look of displeasure marring her face.

You had tried to be respectful and hurry over to the table, but your gaze got caught on the stunning view. From this height, Toussaint stretched out before you, the sun dappled the vineyard covered slopes. The sparkling rivers and lakes dazzled like gems tucked into the green blanket. It was such a contrast to Velen, and you found you couldn't stop staring.

Geralt's hand felt warm on your lower back as he guided you to the table. Your eyes snapped to the Duchess when you found yourself standing before her. A blush crept up your neck, painting your cheeks red. You weren't usually like this. You took in the Duchess and her elegant dress. Her chestnut hair was coiffed with a tiny tiara perched atop her head. You shuffled your feet, feeling underdressed for this meeting. You hadn't had time after being in awe of the city to stop for new boots, so you had to keep wearing your old ones. You were positive that your outfit screamed you had been on the road for many days.

"Duchess Anna Henrietta, this is Younin of Velen." Geralt covered for you. You were never comfortable giving people of great authority your full title as it raised more questions than you were willing to answer. Only a select few outside the Lodge knew your title, and you planned to keep it that way.

"You cannot stay here, Geralt." The Duchess practically growled from her seat across the table. Sitting back, she took a deep breath, fighting to be calm. She clenched and un-clenched her fists, resting her hands on the table. "I'm sorry, Geralt. But you being here has raised too many alarms."

"What alarms?" Geralt took the liberty of sitting in one of the chairs at the table. He gestured for you to sit as well, but didn't take his eyes off the Duchess.

"Word has followed you here from Novigrad." The Duchess aggressively slathered her bread in a pat of butter. Her eyes flicked to you before she turned her full attention back to the Witcher. "The King of Beggars is searching for Younin, and there is a hefty reward for information about her."

Your body jolted at this piece of news. So much had happened since the Vegelbud wedding, and even though you had questions, you thought you were safe in Toussaint while you recovered. Luck did not seem to be on your side, though, if the Duchess's word was to be trusted. At least you knew the news was shocking for Geralt as you watched his knuckles go white as he gripped his armrest tightly.

"Do you know what he wants with me?" Your voice sounded small, and perhaps a little frightened. Since the end of the war, people left you alone for the most part. Certainly no one wanted your head anymore. So what could the King want?

"There was not a lot of information on the wanted poster I saw, but he is willing to pay quite a high price for your whereabouts." The Duchess looked at you, sympathy swirling in her eyes. "So again, you cannot stay here. I love my people, but who knows what one is willing to do when offered that kind of money? People cannot be trusted."

"Very true." You admitted with a nod. You looked down at your hands in your lap, picking at your cuticle. You hated knowing that you were causing trouble simply by being there. "Perhaps I should head back to Velen. Back to the Inn. I can hide there."

"Not an option." Geralt was shaking his head before I had finished. "You don't know that he won't be waiting for you at the Inn, and if I go with you, it would draw attention. If I don't go with you, you will be a sitting duck."

"I'm not powerless." Anger flashed through me. I hated that I was once a powerful sorceress in the Lodge, and now, because I was out of practice, I was seen as weak. I could only imagine how Yennefer saw me now. "What other option do we have right now? We can't hide here, we can't go to Novigrad or Velen. Where am I supposed to go? If the King can reach Toussaint, I have no doubt he can reach Skellige."

"I am sorry to do this to you. I wish Toussaint could hide you." The Duchess sounded genuine as she leaned forward, reaching for you to offer some comfort. "In a land full of knights-errant, you would think we could be trusted to keep a secret, but that is simply not the case."

"I understand." And you really did understand, but it sucked either way. Chewing on the inside of your lip, you mind ran through your vastly dwindling options. Your eyes met Geralt's. "Maybe we should head back to Corvo Bianco, and talk to Yen? She might know where I can hide until we figure out our next move."

"I insist you stay for lunch. It's the least I can do after kicking you out of Toussaint." The Duchess's demeanor changed as she flashed a beautiful smile at both you and Geralt. "After all, I did have the palace chef make this wonderful spread for us."

"We wouldn't want it to go to waste." Geralt gave in much to your surprise. If you had been anywhere else, he would have waved away the request and set off on the quest. Your eyes flicked between the Witcher and the Duchess, trying to figure out what hold she may have on him.

"You can regale me with your recent adventures." The Duchess seemed pleased as she began serving herself from the multitude of platters and dishes spread across the table between you. She paused, a sandwich inches from being placed on her plate. A distressed look flitted across her face. "I hope you haven't come across any vampires."

"None that I couldn't handle." Geralt assured her, placed his hand over her free one.

The gesture seemed innocent enough, but the flare of jealous that ignited in you was anything but. You forced yourself to look away as your magic automatically came to life in your palms. You weren't even sure what element you were drawing, and inviting that chaos into you was dangerous. To distract yourself, you got up from the table and wandered over to the railing. Looking out over the fantastical land seemed to calm you, and you felt you could breathe again.

Dimly, you were aware of Geralt giving a play by play of your journey here. The Duchess was fully enthralled with the fight, adding gasps at all the appropriate spots. If you didn't know any better, you would say she was acting, but looking at her, she seemed genuine.

*************

"So next time we are going to meet with a Duchess, warn me if I need to dress up, please." You whispered as you left the palace. Your horses were waiting at the bottom of the steps to take you back to Corvo Bianco. As beautiful as everything was, you couldn't wait to leave the opulence behind.

"What do you mean?" Geralt's eyes slowly trailed over your body, taking in your outfit. Your cheeks warmed as his gaze felt like a physical touch.

Clearing your throat, you mentally shook yourself. You were glad you had reached the horses, and busied yourself with adjusting the girth. Gathering the reins in one hand, you sprang into the saddle without the help the groom was offering you. It felt good to be back in the saddle again. You had felt extremely out of place in the palace, like your rightful place was on horseback.

"Younin." Geralt's low voice rumbled through the space between you. You knew what he was asking, but didn't know if you could explain in a way the Witcher would understand.

"I just wasn't dressed properly. Toussaint is a far cry from Velen and Novigrad. Even Skellige." You settled for the simplest form of what you were feeling. Geralt may not feel the same about meeting royalty, but you were sure he could at least see where you were coming from. "It just would have been nice to at been dressed like I belonged."

"But you don't belong here." Geralt's words cut through you. Seeing the hurt that flashed in your eyes, he pressed on. "Palaces aren't for people like you and me. If they were, you would still be at court working for a king or queen. You belong out in the world, not sequestered in some stuffy throne room."

His words warmed your heart. Court life had never been for you, that's why you left it behind for a life as an herbalist, pedaling your magic on the side. You offered Geralt a small smile, trying to convey what his words meant to you. The Witcher nodded, turning his horse on to the road out of the palace.

"I'm sorry your idea for hiding out here didn't work out." You wanted to reach for him, to offer him comfort. You had no idea what your next move was going to be. Unless you and Geralt stuck to the Path, and kept moving. But with how the King operated, you figured he would catch up to you eventually.

"Let's worry about getting you new boots before we worry about the King. Nothing can be decided before we get back to Corvo Bianco." Geralt offered you a quick, rare smile. It seemed like he was looking forward to buying you new things, but you knew that couldn't be right. This was Geralt.

"It's my own fault, really. I got so caught up in the wonders of this city, that we ran out of time." You mentally had been kicking yourself about it the whole lunch. On the flip side, you wouldn't have done anything different if given the chance. You adored the sights and sounds of this city, and couldn't wait to relish in them again.

"Come. I know exactly where we will get you boots." Geralt turned his horse down a side street. Up ahead you could hear the clamour of an outdoor market. Light music was playing, and you could hear people singing.

"Where are you taking me? To a fair or to a market?" You jested, but the atmosphere was getting to you again. A smile lit up your face as the music drew you in. The closer you got, the more elated you became.

"In Beauclair, they are one and the same." Geralt flashed you another smile. Something about this place was bringing out a side of him you didn't normally get to see.

When you reached the centre of Hauteville, you found all sorts of upper class citizens mingling about as artists and merchants sold their wares along the side of the street and out of store fronts. Geralt and you tied off your horses near a fountain, and began to wander. So many things caught your eye. You weren't one who normally like jewelry, but the pieces here made even your eye covetous.

"This way." Geralt guided you with a hand on your lower back toward a stain glassed store front. Through the coloured window, you could see shoes and boots on display. "After you."

Geralt pulled the door open for you, but the angle was awkward and you had to duck under his arm. Passing this close to his body only made you realize that it had been so long since you two had had a moment alone that you weren't rushing off somewhere or injured. A heat blazed in Geralt's golden depths, letting you know he was having similar thoughts. You bit your lower lip, trying to squash those thoughts since you were in public.

Once in side, the comforting scent of leather wafted around you. It reminded you of riding across Velen and Toussaint, of the scent Geralt had when he cleaned his armour. Closing your eyes briefly, you took a deep breath, letting the calm it brought wash over you. But then you opened your eyes, taking in all the beautiful footwear surrounding you.

"Are you sure these aren't art?" You gasped, whispering to Geralt. You didn't want to ruin someone's artwork with weeks on the road. Geralt laughed, but before he could say anything, the shop owner came bustling over.

"Ah, I see the lady has an appreciative eye. You humble me, my lady." The shopkeep gave you both a slight bow, a wide smile plastered on his face. If he noticed the state of your clothes and boots, he didn't let on, which you did appreciate.

"I seem to have wrecked my pair of boots, but I don't know if I can buy any of these. They are all too beautiful for what I need." You gestured to the shoes on the display nearest you.

"What is the point of a good shoe if it won't be worn?" The shopkeep waved away your concern, taking your hand in both of his to lead you to a padded stool. "Come. Come. Let me see if we can't find you something you will adore."

Geralt stood behind your shoulder, his arms crossed as he watched the shopkeep bring you pair after pair of shoes and ankle boots. None of them seems quite right to you, though. Every once in a while he would let out a sound you could only describe as a rumble, and you knew he agreed that they weren't the right shoes for you. All the shoes were ridiculously beautiful, but none of them would serve you well on the road.

"Do you have anything in a knee high?" You ventured to ask after turning down what felt like the twentieth pair of shoes. You didn't like feeling like a burden, but with each pair you dismissed, the guilt formed a larger ball in the pit of your stomach.

"Ah! I have just the thing!" The shopkeep announced after thinking for a moment. The elation on his face eased the guilt a bit, and you hoped this pair was going to be it.

Your eyes lit up when he brought you a pair of knee high boots. The leather had been tanned an unique reddish brown. The fur lining let you know that they would be warm, which was perfect for the road, especially up North. You stroked the laces that ran up the whole length of the boot. As beautiful as these boots were, you weren't afraid to wear them on the road.

"They are perfect." Your eyes traced over them again. You watched as the shopkeep undid the laces before handing them to you. You slide your feet into them, tightening the laces. They fit perfectly. "These are the boots."

"How much?" Geralt directed his question to the shopkeep before you could ask. You opened your mouth to protest, but a stern look from Geralt kept you silent.

You looked down at your new boots to hide the blushing smile on your face. A warm feeling stretched out from your chest, filling your limbs all the way to your fingers and toes. It felt strange to have Geralt buy things for you when you were perfectly capable of buying them yourself. It was a nice feeling, but you weren't accustomed to being doted on. You began to think of ways you could pay him back.

"Ready?" Geralt laid a warm hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention. He shifted his hand off of you so he was offering it to you. You looked up at him as took his hand.

"Absolutely." You grinned as he twined his fingers with yours, leading you out of the shop. You waved over your shoulder to the shopkeep, who was beaming at the both of you. "Thank you for all your help."

"My pleasure, dear." The shopkeep waved as the door closed behind you.

"Well?" Geralt looked down at you, a small genuine smile curving his lips. When you didn't answer, he gestured down to your boots. "What do you think?"

"I adore them." You stood on your tiptoes, steadying yourself with a hand in his shoulder. You leaned in close as he turned his head, his gold eyes searching your face. "Best gift a guy has ever gotten me."

You brought your lips to his, enjoying the brief feel of him. It was a quick kiss, and did not even come close to conveying your feelings. But it would have to do since you were in public. The ride back to the vineyard was going to be long, but you couldn't wait to show him how you truly felt.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

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