#LISTEN. IF YOU SAID. YOU KNOW YOUR LITTLE PAINTER WOULD LOVE MORE THAN ANYTHING TO SHOULDER THE BURDEN WITH YOU

[culxiaa-fn]

🙂🙂😃😃 I NEED ALKAID TO STOP SACRIFICING HIMSELF FOR ONE SECOND

[starlitiris]

Sebastian x Reader x Painter polyamorous relationship headcanons!! Omg!!

So!! I’ve thought about this a few times and really like the idea of a Sebastian x Y/N x Painter poly, and I haven’t seen anything for this anywhere!! Like at all!!! The people out there who are polyamorous or would only be poly with fictional characters are NOT BEING FED!!!!! But it’s a good thing you guys have me 😎

Also im gonna be so fr with you guys, i intended for this to have multiple sections like. “How it started” then “sleeping arrangements” then “love languages” then “jealousy” and so on and so forth but the “how it started” bit ended up being WAY longer than I thought it would be 😭😭 so this is going to be in multiple parts. And just so yall know before hand, in this poly yall ALL are dating. Youre with sebastian and painter, sebastian is with you and painter, and painter is with you and sebastian!!! YALL ALL ARE SMOOCHING!!!!!!!!!

With that all being said… ENJOY!!! AND MAKE REQUESTS FOR THIS AU BC I WILL VERY LIKELY DO THEM!!! HAPPILY!!!!! Ignore my shitass divider i just dont like having nothing there

Update: I made a part 2

🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨

How it started:

So the way I’ve been imagining this going has you as an expendable. You get close with Sebastian first since you typically see him more often (unless you count Painter trying to trick you with fake doors or turret you but that’s when he’s trying to kill you so I’m not counting it ☝️). At some point, you and Sebastian start talking, and the more you see him, the longer your conversations get. You start to form a friendship! And he actually likes you! Good for you you achieved the impossible and made the angry traumatized fish man like your presence!!! So you and Sebastian become friends first since you see him more frequently in a non-hostile setting. Your friendship with Painter was a slower burn since you didn’t get to meet him in his room every run, but whenever you met with him, you would talk. Just like with Sebastian, the more times you saw Painter, the longer your conversations would be. He at least was able to like you faster than Sebastian did! You’re fun to talk to, and you really listen to him. And you were relatively quick to forgive him for hurting you on your runs, so he appreciated that. Eventually Painter would stop giving you a hard time with doors and turrets, and would even start following you from room to room when he could on the monitors by the doors. It made your time in the blacksite a little more bearable.

Sebastian would start to develop feelings for you after some time. He looked forward to seeing you enter his shop every run, or making little quips at you whenever you would inevitably get killed again by one of the site’s many dangers. His quips used to be harsh and ill-intended, but now they were friendly and teasing. You didn’t like getting teased for not hearing the wall dweller behind you or for accidentally falling into pits of lava, but you usually couldn’t help but smile while you rolled your eyes at him. You had developed feelings for him, too. That’s why you let him get away with it so often.

There was one day where you entered Sebastian’s shop, and he seemed… off. He was still smiling at you, but he seemed tired. Or… sad. It was a little difficult to tell, but you knew something was wrong. You tried to brush it off at first. You didn’t wanna push him to talk about it if he clearly didn’t want to, so you bought a few items and got ready to leave.

Okay, you couldn't help yourself. He looked miserable and it was worrying you. Before you left, you asked Sebastian if he was alright.

“Hm? Of course! I’m fine. Go on, if you stay too long they might start to get suspicious,” he joked, trying to divert the attention off of himself.

You weren’t convinced. But if he didn’t wanna talk about it, you weren’t about to press him on it. You learned the hard way that pushing him to talk when he wasn’t ready wasn’t a good idea. So you turned and began to kneel down at the vent.

But then he called your name.

You stopped, standing up again and turning to face him. He paused, unsure if he should continue. But then he confessed.

He confessed to falling for you. He told you he knows you probably don’t feel the same way, but god, was he in love with you. He said he felt like an idiot for letting himself get this attached to you. He apologized because he knows you two were supposed to be against each other, and loving you only made things more complicated. It made things harder than they already were.

He said he was sorry for falling in love with you.

Then you said you loved him, too.

He seemed surprised. He never would’ve expected you to return his feelings- I mean hell, look at him. He was a giant shark, fish, whale, snake… thing. And he was mean, and in a lot of ways, emotionally unavailable. Who could fall for someone like him?

Well… obviously you, of course. But he didn’t understand why. Quite frankly, though, in this exact moment, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy. Relieved. And then he’s sad again, even as you hold his hand and caress his cheek. You’re feeling the same way he is. Happy and relieved, but sad knowing that this unfortunately doesn’t change the fact that the world has pinned you against each other.

You stay for a while, but eventually, as always, you have to go. You kiss him on the cheek before you leave. Later on, you meet Painter again after he finds you on the cameras. You tell him about your interaction with Sebastian, and he’s happy for you! But sad, too. Sigh… if only there was a way they could escape and bring you with them 😔💔

Omg Painter just had the best idea ever they could escape and take you with them!!!!! He proposes this idea to Sebastian first. You could keep helping them to gather research while you keep “trying to retrieve the crystal”. And after you all stalled for enough time, boom!!! You could just ditch the place and escape with them!!! It was true that overtime, you were getting a lot better at avoiding dangers. You made it a little bit further into the blacksite with almost every run. Sebastian and Painter knew that eventually, you would likely be able to escape with the crystal. So… in order for this plan to work… youuuu would kind of have to purposely fail until you could all escape. Sebastian didn’t like that. Honestly, neither did Painter. But it was the only plan they had that they believed could work.

You didn’t necessarily like the idea either when they proposed it to you, but you agreed. Dying sucked, but escaping and dooming your best friend and now-boyfriend to die was significantly worse. You knew you couldn’t just stay in Sebastian’s shop or whatever, cause if you never left, Urbanshade would definitely suspect that something was up. You were all honestly surprised that they let you stay with Sebastian or Painter as long as you did sometimes already. But you couldn’t stay. So! Dying over and over until you can escape it is!

Things continue exactly as planned. You gather as much research as you can for Sebastian, you die in between rooms 80 and 100, and you repeat the process. Your evolving relationship with Sebastian was going great throughout this. Your relationship with Painter was doing just as great, too! He was always so excited to see you!! Any chance he had to be with you, he would jump at immediately. At this point, you were seeing him more often than you were seeing Sebastian. Not that you minded. You enjoyed Painter’s presence just as much.

Painter started to notice that he felt… fluttery? When you were around? When you looked at him, when you joked with him, when you complimented his art- hell, even just THINKING about you made him feel all fuzzy and weird. Odd! Wonder what that’s about.

Finally, Innovation Inc gets back in contact with Sebastian, and all three of you are able to escape together. Sebastian found a way to disable your PDG, and you helped to get Painter out of his cage to bring him with you.

Innovation Inc gave you three a temporary room to stay in while you got things all sorted out with them. You specifically requested that you all sleep in the same place. At long last, you could finally snuggle with your boyfriend and sleep in the same bed. Or- nest. Of blankets and pillows. It was still comfortable. You and Sebastian both agreed that you didn’t want to be apart from Painter if you two got to be together, so he was there, too. None of you minded.

Innovation Inc agreed to build Painter a body so he could move freely on his own, and do other things he wanted to experience. It would take a few months for that to happen, but it was worth the wait. While you all waited for Painter’s body to be completed, he was brought with you and Sebastian everywhere you went. He watched the way you two held hands, kissed, hugged, and cuddled. The way you would lovingly tease each other, comfort each other, and say “I love you” back and forth.

He wants that. Painter realized that he wanted that. He wants what you and Sebastian have- he wants to be part of it. He wants to hold your guys’ hands, join your hugs and cuddles… kiss you. He wants to be able to gently pet you both when either of you wake up from a bad dream. He wants to hold you and tell you both… he loves you.

Painter loves you two.

Painter’s body was finished. Sebastian was helping get him connected to it, making adjustments here and there as needed. You were somewhere else in the facility finding things to celebrate this momentous moment with. Not that there was much at your disposal, but you were hoping to find something. This is something worth celebrating!

Painter watched Sebastian analyze his wires, cables, joints, and so on – really wanting everything to be working right. Painter was really excited about his new body, don’t get him wrong. But after his recent realization… all he can think about is you and Sebastian. All the things he wants to do with you, all the things he wants to say to you…

“I love you, Sebastian.”

He just blurted it out. He didn’t want it to be a secret anymore. He knows Sebastian has you, and you have Sebastian, but you both needed to know. He needed you to know.

Sebastian looked up at Painter’s screen, eyes wide and processing.

“You… what?” Sebastian was admittedly a little stunned.

“I love you. Like… you know… not just platonically. I think I’m in love with you,” Painter continued.

Sebastian really didn’t know what to say. While realizing what Painter was telling him, he felt… conflicted. A lot of thoughts and emotions swirled around in his head- there was too much going on for him to grab a thought, latch onto it, and put it into words.

Painter took his silence as an opportunity to continue and explain himself.

“And it’s not just you. I… I think I’m in love with Y/N, too. I love you- both of you. And I know, you and Y/N are together already, and I’m just… here. And maybe I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I didn’t wanna keep it to myself anymore. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it kind of sounds selfish- and maybe I am. I don’t know… I just… I still wanna be your guys’ friend! I hope this doesn’t, uh… ruin what we all have going for us. I just… love you. A lot.”

Painter had finished his confession. Sebastian took it all in, word for word, rolling it around in his head to process everything. Painter’s feelings, his feelings, and what this meant for all of you. It took him a moment, but eventually, he responded.

“I love you, too,” Sebastian said, an undertone of sadness present in his voice. “Both of you.”

Painter went from being surprised, to being happy, to feeling immense dread and guilt and like him and Sebastian were probably kind of betraying you at the moment. Painter asked Sebastian what the hell they were supposed to do about this, and apologized for making everything so complicated.

Sebastian said, “Let’s just tell them. They deserve to know, regardless of what happens.”

His ear fins flicked, drooping low beside his head. He felt just as guilty as Painter did.

A few minutes later, you enter the room with a smile. You tell the two that you couldn’t find much, but you had things set up in your shared room! Then you stopped smiling. They both looked… sad. Sort of like dogs that knew they did something wrong and were about to get in trouble for it.

“Wwwhat’s going on…?” You asked.

And they explained. Painter started, admitting to you that he had fallen in love with both you and Sebastian. Then Sebastian took the stage, explaining to you that he returned Painter’s feelings. He said he still loved you just as much, and he wouldn’t be telling you this if he could avoid it with a sound conscience, but you deserved to know. He couldn’t look at you the entire time he spoke.

You stared. You processed. You thought.

And you laughed.

You laughed hard.

The two were confused. FLABBERGASTED. Why the hell were you laughing? Was this a bad laugh? Laughing at how absurd this was before you yelled at them for putting you in this situation? What the fuck is wrong with u????

You wiped away a tear as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I- I’m sorry-” you said through your giggling. “It’s just… I feel the same way! I’m in love with both of you. God, I felt so guilty when I realized I loved Painter, too, but now?” You laugh again. “Oh my god! We’re so stupid.”

Silence. Jaws on the floor.

Then Sebastian snorted.

And he laughed as well. “What?? Are you fucking serious??”

You told him that yes, you were serious. You both kept laughing.

Painter was still in shock.

“Wh… so- this WHOLE time… we all just… loved each other??? All of us???”

“Apparently!” You added.

Eventually, the absurdity of the whole thing had Painter laughing, too. You all felt pretty goofy for worrying so much, only to have you all find out that ALL the feelings were reciprocated.

When the laughter finally came to a halt, Painter asked a really good question.

“So… what do we do now?”

“Well… “ you started. “We could technically just… all date each other. That’s a thing some people do.”

“We could?” Painter asked with excitement. He had never even considered that.

“Huh…” Sebastian thought aloud. “Never thought I’d be the kind of guy that’s open to polyamory, but I like that. I think we could make it work,” he grinned, looking down at Painter to wait for his thoughts.

Painter smiled widely.

“Yeah!! Yeah, let’s do that!! I’d love that!” He exclaimed.

And with that, you were now in a polyamorous relationship with Sebastian and Painter. Sebastian had finished making sure Painter’s new body was put together the way it should be, so you all went back to your shared room to celebrate.

To celebrate Painter’s new body, AND your new relationship. And later that night, Painter was finally able to cuddle with you and Sebastian while you slept – even though he doesn’t exactly sleep the same way you two do. It was still very, very nice to have one of his fondest dreams come true.

And now that Painter’s body was finished, soon enough Innovation Inc would have a remote safe house ready for you three to live in on the surface. Painter couldn’t wait. None of you could.

You were finally getting your happy ending.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (2/14/2025) Episode: Sharing The Plan

As Luigi and his family left the release party to begin his Black and White bash they were stopped by a nervous Elyse. “Aunt Noemi, Uncle Lu, can you come into the sitting room for a minute? My parents are already there and there’s something Skye and I need to talk to all of you about.”

As xir parents went on ahead, saying their hellos to their old friends and getting seated, Skye grabbed Elyse’s hands, squeezing tightly “I’m nervous” xe whispered “I don’t know about your parents but I’m sure mine aren’t going to like this.”

She squeezed back, smiling up at xem. “No matter what happens we’ll figure it out.” she promised “We have a plan. Besides, they love you. Even if they’re mad at first, I’m sure they’ll come around.”

The teens went to stand at the front of the room, facing their elders. They’d chatted about this ahead of time and Elyse, knowing hers would be the easier conversation, went first. “Mom, dad, I’ve been thinking a lot about my future, and I’ve decided not to go to University. As soon as I age up, I’m going to find a little place of my own, make money selling my art.”

“OK…” Isra began, glancing at her husband. “Honestly, honey, we never really thought you’d want to pursue higher education. You’ve always been more interested in your hobbies than your schoolwork. Neither your father or I went to university, and we did just fine. I’m sure you will to.”

Noemi didn’t miss that her own child continued looking nervous as Elyse sighed with relief. “Skye…” she asked warily “What does all this have to do with you?”

“Well…” Skye told her “Elyse and I saw the romance guru at the festival, and he said… he thought…”

Xe trailed off before changing gears and trying again. “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve decided not to go to University either. I just accepted an internship at The Times and Mr. Haas thinks if I do well, it will probably lead to a position as a reporter there.” Xe took a breath. “That’s a job I’ll start right after high school. As soon as I age up Elyse and I are going to move in together and begin both of our careers, without college.”

Noemi immediately burst out “Skye, this is insane! Your father and I have told you how much better University will prepare you for adult life!”

“Do you even know how you’re going to establish yourself as a painter?” she turned back towards Elyse.

When the young sim defiantly began explaining “I’ll start out cleaning pallets at an art studio if I have to, selling my original work on…” Noemi cut her off angrily. “What about where you’re going to live? Entry level jobs won’t afford you any kind of reasonable rent.”

“Elyse and I don’t need anything fancy” Skye jumped in, “as long as we have each other, that’s all that matters.”

“You say that now” Noemi ground out “but you have NO idea how hard it is. Every time you two have come up with some “plan” its ends in disaster and Skye is the one who gets hurt. She never means for anything bad to happen, but that doesn’t stop it from happening again and again!”

Noemi rose, turning towards Isra and Rhys “I love you guys, and I care about your daughter, but she’s a terrible partner for Skye. I can’t sit here and listen to this any longer, I’m sorry.” She then looked at Skye, a mix of love, worry, and sadness marring her features “You mean the world to me, and I am BEGGING you to reconsider this decision, for your own happiness and well being.” With that she turned and walked out of the room.

Skye’s eyes were filled with tears, but xir voice was steely as xe shouted at xir mother’s retreating back “How DARE you say Elyse and I aren’t a good match!? She MAKES me happy! We love each other and we’re old enough to make our own decisions – you can’t stop us!”

“Come on Elyse” xe turned to her, fury in xir eyes “We’re going to the kitchen, I’m baking us a cake, and we’re aging up NOW. Our new life together is going to start TONIGHT.” As xe stormed out Elyse shot the remaining adults a worried look before turning to hurry after xem.

The three remaining sims sat in stunned silence for a moment “What a way to begin my party” Luigi finally chuckled dryly before becoming serious “I’m sorry you had to see that” he told Isra and Rhys “I’m going to go try and talk Skye out of doing anything rash. Xe needs to finish out xir final semester of High School more than ever if those two are determined to launch their careers without a college degree.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rhys told him “distract Elyse so you two can have some privacy.”

“I’ll go look for Noemi” Isra volunteered “I know she cares for both our babies, and I understand why she’s worried after everything that’s happened.”

“Thanks” Luigi sighed “You guys are great friends. Text me when you find her, Isra, and I’ll come join you as soon as I can.”

With that the three old friends split up to find their volatile loved ones and, hopefully, enact some successful damage control upon this wild fiasco.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[bloodplague]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and I was looking through your posts and everything. I love your head canons for the creepypasta! And you are a very good artist too. I just wanted to ask if you could do a HC about Laughing Jack or Jason the Toymaker. (Like I said I love your artwork! keep up the good work!)

Jason the Toymaker & Laughing Jack Headcanons

Suree!! I'm not a big Jason fan so I might not have many, but I'll try!! Also thank you so much!! <3

Jason the Toymaker:

He has the antisocial personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, PTSD and is super possessive.

His friends are Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Bloody Painter and KageKao, mainly.

He's a skilled writer, able to write beautiful texts with little effort.

Jason loves the scent after blowing out candles.

One of his hobbies is fixing broken weapons, always proud of himself once he finished.

Once someone becomes a fond one, they won't ever escape him. He's extremely clingy, possessive and will threaten them if they try to leave.

He doesn't know when he's doing something wrong. Example: After threatening someone he likes because of reasons, and they lash out at him, he'll be super confused, not knowing what he did wrong.

No matter what he does, he will ALWAYS defend his actions.

Doesn't usually torture a lot when killing but still tends to be sadistic.

LOVES listening to someone playing piano while he's working on something, it helps him to not get distracted.

When he's mad, he will punch walls aggressively and rip out his hair, blaming anyone but not himself for whatever made him this mad.

A walking redflag, basically...

Sometimes, Jason and Helen hang out, just talking while Helen draws and Jason works on his little toys.

When Jason gets really mad, he'll start stuttering, not able to handle the rage that keeps building up inside him, so he destroys things around him to show how angry he is.

Laughing Jack:

He laughs like Peter Griffin.

His comfort is gore, basically. When killing, he tries to make it as gory/bloody as possible.

His best friends are Nina, Clockwork, Jill and Pinkamena.

Jack has PTSD and psychosis.

This guy has claustrophobia, to be honest.

His tongue is really long, just like his arms.

When he's mad, he'll be extremely loud mouthed, more than he already is anyway.

Speaking off, he'd do ANYTHING to make his friends laugh, hurting anyone's feelings just to make fond ones smile and giggle, even if the one he's making fun of is having a rage burst or mental break down.

He's overly clingy and can be very sassy.

Biggest ENFP

He loves taking care of Sally and Lazari since they replace what he needed back then: A friend.

Even if he always dresses black and white, he has a small little bow somewhere on his body, usually because of Nina.

Constantly craves candy, chips and chocolate milkshake, giggling while devouring that shit.

Hates Rouge for some unknown reasons, just like Wilson.

Can come off as overly playful and childish, even though he's highly manipulative, easily leading his victims into some trap just to violently torture the living shit out of them.

When anyone tries to hurt his fond ones, he will be extremely aggressive and violent, ready to do whatever it takes to protect the ones close to him. Loosing another person would destroy him.

When he's REALLY close to someone, he'll be really touchy and sometimes even mushy, just trying to get their attention by acting all "adorable", like some starving puppy.

LOVES Scene's and emo's so much, he always points at them with his finger when he sees one like the silly person he is.

He has a really sharp chin.

His whole face turns red when he laughs or gets embarrassed.

[mocacheezy]

Moca watches: Fox's Peter Pan and the Pirates - Ep. 16: Hook's Mother's Picture

These are such pretty clouds.

Rooster makes a statue of himself. Great craftsmanship.

I don't know exactly how old Michael is, but that he already forgot his mother… Ouch.

"I suppose she is in some way." yea, given she is the only girl in Neverland not constantly 100% fixated on only Peter.

And damn, she is also a wonderful sculptor. I need to make a post praising Wendy Darling, she is amazing, sweet, talented. If I ever wanted to have children, had a daughter, I'd want her to be just like her - curious when provided with options of learning and creativity and acquiring skill.

"They're slightly like a bedtime story. Not real at all." Slightly what you're thinking of is a perfect mother and I don't blame you if yours wasn't even a good and caring one.

I do wonder about mothers of each Lost Boy. I might dive too deep into this but, technically speaking, headcanons about the behaviour and mannerisms they have could be linked to the parenting of each lost boy.

I also wonder if Wendy will ever mention a father, and if so, what the Lost Boys will have to say about that.

What in the fuck was this reaction Peter? I am just baffled at the TWINKLE TING sound effect.

This is the face of OH NO, ROOSTER MISCHIEF IN MAKING.

STARKEY STOP THAT YOU'LL LOSE YOUR FINGERNAIL OR WORSE

Cookson. That's disgusting.

Mason mending the sails while they are strung is really cool to see. Especially since the fabric isn't exactly thin, so he might just be patching small surface tears before they can become a bigger issue. It is very impressive to me still.

Honey, other people also have moms.

"Molesting CLOUDS?" I am WHEEZING, gosh he hates these kids.

I am losing my fucking mind over him insulting Smee. He is so eloquent Smee thinks it is a compliment.

Though to be honest, I do wonder how dumb or dim-witted Smee actually is, because he could also be feigning some of it. I'm putting my rating at him being 65% dim and 35% smart-but-faking-it dimness.

WHY. ARE. YOU. PRETTY. This. is. unfair. Thank you animators, a million thank yous

Is it Peter making that racket? Because he woke up Robert, now Cookson- NO IT'S TOMY! :D

Short Tom you good birdie, good job, GOOD JOB pretty Polly!

Mullins saves the day for the boys. Also, if there are no transcripts for the episodes online, I will listen to every episode a million times to write down what these pirates are saying. I didn't understand anything Cookson said just now.

"Dem parrots know, you know?" Mullins being superstitious is my favourite defining trait of his. And the two of them taking Short Tom's squaking seriously makes me so glad. Tom is a crewmate, and an extra eye.

Cookson being a painter is something I've GOT to see.

Honey why are you yelling?

Babe *incooherent scribbles* the BOW.

"AT YOUR SERVICE." WHY IS HE CULTURED,

WHY I ASK

*replaying the scene to get good screenshots*

WHY ARE YOU THIS PRETTY?!!!

HUBBY!!!

HUBBY

How, DARE you.

I am not normal about this man.

I am not normal about this man.

Wendy is having NONE of this!

"FEATHERS! Give me feathers!" XD

Slightly & Nibs are such lil assholes X)

A face only a mother could love? ❌ A face only a son could love? ✅

Little shit just likes to return to Hook's stomping grounds.

Tomy is asleep :3

I love that Wendy didn't react in the same way everyone else had.

I swear the amount of abuse this painting has been through should've destroyed it completely.

He. He is. He's-

I AM. HUSBAND?? HUSBAND??? He's just!!! He's just!!! HE!!!

(translation; he climbed aboard his ship yet again, using his hook. And the sea is low, the tide is low, so he's climbing more than he would otherwise and oh my Goth Hook, honey- *insert incooherent scribbles here*)

Honey, baby, sweetie, darling, your temper is kept in check purely by the fact your crew is small, and the amount of climbing you just did.

That's it, new headcanon; this man doesn't just scale the side of his ship because he's impatient, he also does it because he would've flogged his crew until their bones were bare, just like he threatened Mullins.

"I. Beg. your. Pardon?"

Honey, honey, honey, I am clasping my hands and breathing deeply, because your men have a reason to act like this, but those ARE your quarters, your one place of moderate reprieve, and the way you will not stand for denial of your entry is

DOING THINGS TO ME.

Honey. Honeyyyy 😭

Husband, baby, sweetiepie, he looks like a sad pug.

He loves his mother so much, that the portrait height is in such a way that he is at eye level/looking slightly up where her eyes would be. [EDIT: Might be animation error]

"How dare you lie you-"

get hatted kiddo.

"I will NOT!" I love how firm she is.

"Peter will rescue me." … you could tell the truth now.

He looks like he's pleading. He is pleading. He called Peter a "fair boy".

The fact it isn't the picture makes this hurt so much more.

"Release the wench." foul language towards a little lady… oh my poor gentleman.

Baby boy babyyy

He is so sad, he is grieving all over again, he turned to music, he is almost crying, I-

Smee. I don't blame you, but Smee. You are dead. (were it not for plot reasons you would be dead)

I have my doubts that painting could be saved.

It was rolled up and gripped tightly multiple times,

it got caught on a tree branch,

was stabbed on the top with a sword and flung out the window,

landed in the sea paint down,

got torn off from where it was hung (still wet),

remained on the wooden floor, paint down, wet,

got stretched, then balled up, thrown out,

Landed in the sea again, paint side down again

... Now I know this is for comedic effect, but that picture? Gone. Done. Unless Hook can paint well enough with what might as well be his non-dominant hand, Mummy truly is gone.

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

Man when Takeru released his sleepyhead project I was so happy I liked so many songs, but when I read his posts on the subject and how he just let himself drown in his own darkness I was thinking man, you can explore your darkness without harming yourself. And then he announced he gives up on that project to take a break, work on his mental health and come back as Takeru, a project that'd be more real to who he is I guess, both light and darkness. So I was waiting for that and the fact I've yet to find one song I like from this (although it's still early to judge) makes me feel a little guilty cause like "I enjoyed his darkness more?". In general I believe that you can make sth beautiful from both happy and sad moments as an artist but not go out of your way to harm yourself just to make content. I dunno. I hope there is sth I can like too in the future cause I wanted him to be himself sooo badly. It's not just dark there, he has light and he's very creative so I wanted to see all that.

However I listened to Requiem and, while I don't like the song, I am a little pleased with the fact that's a full ass mv. There is story to follow, several different scenes and for once in I don't know how long, I see one of my favorite jrockers actually acting in his own mv instead of having extras to do the work. I mean I get it, for some it is uncomfortable to touch a girl they don't know and act like a couple (in case they do it cause they have a partner I can respect but if you're single, come on dude), but dude everyone does it. You won't kiss her or anything, you just have to hold her hand or seduce her or sth, depending on the song. I also liked the fact that the girlfriend in the song was a stripper and he was the musician. It is closer to reality I guess. Jrockers, if they choose to marry, it's usually fans, or people working in other night fields they end up with. Not some nice wholesome girl. Dark meets dark there, there's no way around it. Also....he used one of my favorite concepts in a scene. Ever since I was a little girl, I "knew", I wanted is better I guess cause this never came true, to end up with an artist. A bad boy looking artist. I in fact used to turn the ideation of knight in shining armour to knight on a black motorbike xD. But yeah most times said artist would be a musician (I dunno why the idea was more appealing to me than a painter or a writer or I dunno) but I had this scene in my head of playing the piano after a night of loving, with only sheets on, or him playing the piano or writing lyrics beside me as I sleep with rays of light bursting in from some side (I was writing mv scripts for many years don't be surprised I wanted such ideal looking scenes in my life). And he did that, he was writing and composing while she was sleeping and then played the song for her.

I might not like the song, but I saw my fantasy by a musician I love and that too is a win for me.

[faded-euphoria]

I'd actually really like hearing more of your creepypasta room headcanons

LISTEN I KNOW ITS BEEN DECADES SINCE THIS WAS SENT IN BUT COLLEGE DECIDED TO CONSUME MY PHYSICAL FORM BUT HERE IT IS

Creepypasta's Bedrooms and then some Headcanons!

First off Masky and Hoodie. I feel like they would either share a room or a suit. i can see them needing to be near eachother and knowing when the other needs space. While they live in the mansion, their room(s) is very bland for the most part. The walls a beige color, with either a brown carpet, or a hardwood floor. They both have full sized beds with basic brown or white sheets. Nothing about their room screams personalized at all and most of the time they don't want to be in there.

Jeff's room is weird. It looks close to his room from before his family moved. So blue wallpaper, might be striped might not be up to you. His bed is a twin sized bed, full black sheets that are torn in some places cuz I refuse to believe this guy doesn't sleep with a knife. Theres blood stains all over that make people not want to be in his room at all. Theres one really dark one that even he doesn't like looking at so he covered it up with a carpet that he stole.

Ben's room is linked to a computer. Yup Ben lives in a computer. I fully believe this and I will die by it. That said, I think he lives in a non-glitched out Clock Town without the Moon in the sky. Everything there is just like the original Majora's Mask game minus the Moon. Thats all.

Eyeless Jack's room is interesting. I think it would be mighty nifty if this guy continued to do doctor stuff after everything happened. So he kinda has a room attached to a surgical room or a hospital type room. his bedroom area is like super small and only has a small bed and dresser, but the hospital room has a few beds or cots for bodies/other creeps so he can either dissect or patch up someone.

Sally's room is your basic little girl's room, pink walls, one wall has a bunch of little paintings on it because the Bloody Painter 100% would paint princess stuff on there for Sally because she is loved by everyone, thank you. She also has a replica dollhouse version of the mansion with little dolls of the pastas that she plays house with, the only two that she plays with by herself are her and Slender, she has to get the others to move their own dolls if she wants them moved, totally not her rules tho(they are).

Laughing Jack doesn't technically have a room but you can find him in Sally's room most of the time. Its not a creepy thing, she just happens to have created a special bond with the clown and called him Papa once and he's taken her as his own daughter now even though he hates every other kid in existence.

Toby's room is more of a safety net than anything. His ticks can get so bad that he hurts himself and adding the voices to that makes it even worse. his room is right next to EJ's room for this exact reason. Toby's room has weirdly soft carpet and his bed is just two mattresses on top of one another. He doesn't have anything hard in his room and he has to leave his hatches in EJ's lil hospital.

Bloody Painter's room is a simple white room. His bed is shoved into the corner, aswell as everything else. The only thing that makes his room special is that he has red paint smeared on his walls. And yes, it is red paint, not blood. Not saying there isn't blood stains in his room, but he doesn't like the way dried blood looks.

Creeps like Sonic.EXE, Lost Silver and Dark Link also live in similar places like Ben's, but instead of Clock Town its their own place like Lavendar Town or something.

Creeps like the Rake and BOB live in the forest mainly. They're invited into the mansion; they've just never picked out a room i guessidkwhyareyoureadingthisstill.

Most creeps, have rooms at the mansion but are never there enough to actually decorate them. They typically spend the night out at other places.

[ikesenwritings]

Leonardo x Reader, 590 words, fluff

"Scumbling is a watercolor painting technique... used by many oil painters to create soft hues of layered pigment and light."

-

"Leonardo? What's this?"

Yet another daring attempt to tidy up the mess that was your compagno's bedroom. A fruitless endeavor, really, though an easy excuse to discover more about your boyfriend.

A bottomless pit of knowledge, he was. It was certainly interesting to see what books you'd find next (because they definitely weren't there last week) and even more of a find when canvases seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Is this new? I didn't know you worked with watercolor."

The little gadget Leonardo had been toying with was left forgotten as he made his way to you, footsteps dancing and skirting around lazily-strewn objects on the floor. You sat at the tail of his bed, a small canvas, no larger than a standard textbook, in your hands. A piece of him and your tender touch.

"Mmm, no. This was several months ago," Leonardo murmured, his voice a low purr in your ear. A small smile grew from your curious expression when his body shifted forward. You planted a soft kiss on his jaw as he reached for the painting from behind, one hand resting gently on your hip.

"So, watercolor?" The two of you now sat comfortably against the wall. "I've only heard of you using oil paints... didn't know you were painting again either. Theo would be stoked to hear that."

A small laugh escaped Leonardo's lips in simple agreement. "He would... but I haven't started painting again. This was just... a moment of inspiration. A stroke of luck, is what I’d call it." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hm, yes, I was very lucky to have witnessed this moment and be able to capture it. And it was raining, too, as you can see. Thought I'd give it a try and borrow some of Vincent's paints."

"It's a beautiful painting," you said. "She's very beautiful."

"Yes, she is."

A softhearted smile reserved for you. And his eyes—hues and mixtures of ambrosia and nectar, the stuff of gods—swam in your lovely figure, nothing but to worship the love of his life.

He remembers the moment with extreme clarity.

The smell of petrichor in the air. Humid, but not unbearable. Leonardo had been roaming the halls in search of a certain housekeeper when he spotted your silhouette through the doorway of a room that led to the balcony overlooking the garden.

The rain had stopped but he assumed you had been lounging about and reading long before it even started.

Water droplets fell from the balustrade onto blades of grass below, forming tiny bubbles—pockets of air that popped to create a fun visual for anyone watching after the season's first rainfall.

The moment was too surreal, too idyllic.

The flip of a page, the slight bopping of your head, the sunlight that grew ever so slightly as the clouds began to part.

"Are these... wait, is this—is this me? You painted... me?"

"Was wondering when you'd notice, cara mia," Leonardo smirked. "Do you remember this day?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think I do. These little white strings—are these supposed to be my headphones? I remember reading and listening to music a lot for the first few days at the mansion. At least, until the battery died."

You laughed as you met Leonardo's eyes. "Didn't even notice you. How come I'm just finding out about this now?"

"Guess it got lost among other things. Also didn't think you'd appreciate me painting you just yet. Scusa. Couldn't help it," he admitted. "Too beautiful to not have done anything at all? Oltraggioso."

-

A/N: I didn't even mean to write this. It was raining and I saw all these water bubbles on the ground and I thought the whole thing was such a nice thing to see, I just sat down and wrote this on my laptop as quick as possible...

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Lick of Paint

Summary: Spencer has no idea his best friend is harboring a secret talent

A/N: This was is one-shot request from a little while ago! I hope you guys enjoy it 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Artist!Reader)

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, paint is involved (but it doesn’t go anywhere it shouldn’t), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3.6k

Request: “Would u do one where it’s a fem!reader x spencer (smut or fluff what ever feels right) where they’re best friends and the reader is very private and one day spencer comes over to her apartment and sees that she’s a really talented painter/drawer/artist ? Thank u!!”

Masterlist

— —

He didn’t have a crush on her. No way. She was just his best friend, nothing more. Just his best friend who he thought about all the time, his best friend who he knew everything about, who he couldn't wait until tomorrow to see.

They got in from their latest case at half past midnight, he was a night owl, and he knew she was too, so why would she mind him showing up uninvited? He hadn’t seen her in 15 days and he probably could wait one more, but he really didn't want to.

Showing up at her door after 1am with a bottle of wine and some snacks he took a minute to run his fingers through his hair and straighten out his shirt before he knocked on the door. He could hear a rustling from the other side, and he could see the light shifting about beneath the door frame. So she was home, and she was awake, and he was trying to suppress his eager little smile.

“You can’t keep calling over this late Mrs. Warner! I don’t have any of your mail—Spencer!” she says it in a little yelp as she pulls the door completely open. And she's standing in front of him in nothing but an oversized button up shirt, her hair’s all messy around her head and there’s a little pencil tucked behind her ear.

He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s sure that he likes it.

“Just me” he pulls his lips into a small smile and gives a tiny little wave with his free hand, shaking the bottle of wine in his other. “I hope I’m not intruding, we just got in earlier than I thought we would and I figured you’d still be up”

As he’s explaining she’s shutting the door slightly again, hiding her body behind it just a little. And even if he wasn’t a profiler he’d know she was uncomfortable, so he starts to shake his head.

“You know what, don’t worry about it! I can come back another time— or I can— I can give you some space if you need it? This was a stupid idea anyway, I should go— I’m gonna go!” he knows he sounds stupid, he’s a rambling mess but before he can properly retreat she’s swinging the door open fully again, reaching out for him and just grabbing him by the strap of his satchel.

“No Spencer wait! I’m happy to see you, I really am” she pulls him to the doorway, letting him step inside. “It’s just— messy? And you haven’t seen my apartment like this before” she’s rushing it out once he gets inside, placing her hands on his shoulders to try and spin him around before he can catch a glimpse of the state of her living room.

“Just gimme a second to tidy—”

“Do you— are you an artist?” he’s not even listening to her anymore, he’s completely fixed on the pages and sketchbooks all scattered around her living room. The sofa is pulled back to create space for the huge canvas that’s spread out all over the floor. Paints and brushes all lined up next to it.

“No!” she shakes her head, “Well not really, I just, I draw sometimes, and paint I guess? But it’s just for me” she’s still got her hands on his shoulders, trying to turn him around in spite of the fact that he’s already seen everything she was trying to hide. Or had managed to keep hidden until now.

“You never told me?” he just looks confused now more than anything, but his eyes are still blown wide as he starts to walk towards the area of the room covered in her materials.

“It’s really nothing Spencer, I didn’t want to tell you, because then you’d want to see, and then I wouldn’t want to show you, or I would show you, and then you’d hate it, and you’d just tell me you liked it to be nice, and I can tell when you’re lying Spencer, and I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I didn’t tell you. But I haven't told anyone.” she’s not looking at him when she speaks anymore, her hands are just wrapped tight around her body protectively. This felt like she was so entirely exposed.

She had only kept two secrets from him all these years. Her art. And her unending infatuation for him. How could she not let him in when he showed up at her front door so excited, and looking so cute in his little sweater with his messy curls.

“Hey” he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, coaxing her to unwrap them. So they fall to her sides and she feels even more exposed now. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to stand out in the hall while you hide all of this stuff, and then we pretend none of this happened, I’ll get comfy out there right now. But I just need you to know that I love you very much, and I’d support anything you ever choose to do. And I know what I want shouldn't factor in, but for what it’s worth, I would like to see some of your work— It doesn't have to be now! But just, if you ever wanted to show me anything, I’d love to see it.”

She can feel how earnest the words are, and she knew he loved her, but it was always so nice to hear it out loud, coming from those gorgeous pink lips. She wants to speak but the words feel like they’re almost caught in her throat when she looks up at him, she has to force them out.

“I’ll show you” she breathes, “I want to show you”

His eyebrows shoot up as she speaks, “I didn't mean— you don’t have to!” he rushes out as she goes to fetch one of her sketchbooks from the ground, handing it to him.

“I want to, honestly. If someones going to see this stuff, I want it to be you” once the sketchbook’s in his grip and out of her hands completely she walks away from him, going to sit on the ground next to the canvas. Right where she’d been sitting when he knocked on the door earlier.

Neither of them say a word while he goes through it page by page. It doesn't occur to her that she’s not sure which one she handed him until she can hear footsteps approaching her from behind.

When he sits down beside her he’s got the sketchbook open to a double spread and she recognizes it instantly.

“Are these drawings of me?” he asks, and it’s almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to scare her. But she nods.

“Um, yeah. There’s actually a bunch of you in these sketchbooks. Your bone structure is just— I don't know— it’s nice to look at” his lips curve up in a small smile at that.

“You think I’m nice to look at?” he teases and she rolls her eyes,

“From an artistic perspective, you're interesting” she tries to walk it back.

“So now I’m just interesting?” he asks, a little smug now that he can tell she’s nervous.

“That’s not what I said!” he starts to chuckle then, closing the notebook and placing it down on the ground behind him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you, and for what it’s worth I think you’re nice to look at too. From any perspective” those few words make her forget where she is completely, they make her feel an entirely different kind of worry than the one she’d been experiencing earlier.

“And I love your work. You said you could tell when I was lying, am I lying?” he’s looking straight into her eyes as he speaks, and she can feel the way her heart is palpitating.

“No, you’re, uh, you're telling the truth” she shakes her head, but his eyes stay focused on her.

“What’s going on this canvas then?” he asks with a smile, and she breaks the eye contact so she can grab another one of her notebooks to show him some of the thumbnails she’d drawn for it.

“This is the idea, I think I need to practice it on something smaller though, just to get a feel for it” she explains as she points to the different shapes on the page, but then Spencer gets an idea.

“Use me” he says, and she just looks at him perplexed, “You said I was interesting, use me as your canvas?” he pulls off his cardigan as he speaks, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his bare arms.

“Spencer, I meant like, a smaller sheet or something, not your arm!” she’s laughing it off, mostly because being in close contact like that with him would probably break her.

“Well use my back then” he says it like it’s obvious, taking off his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt from the top, getting to the third button before she reaches out to stop him.

“You don’t have to do that” she says it with a laugh, like her heart’s not beating out of her chest from the little glimpse of bare skin she can see through the open part of his shirt.

He looks straight into her eyes as he speaks, “I want to.” the words settle in the air between them and they come to a silent agreement. Her hands falling from his so that he can undo the rest of his buttons, shrugging out of his shirt so that she can see his bare torso.

He sits like that for a second, awaiting instructions.

“Um, you should lie down on your front” she says, gesturing to the canvas laid out on the ground, “Wait!” she calls out as he moves to lie down, “You should probably take off your trousers? I don’t wanna get paint on them or anything”

It’s the truth really, but it still feels silly to say out loud. Luckily he just laughs a little and takes them off, but the little clinking sound his belt makes does something to her breathing.

By the time he’s laying face down on the canvas, his head resting on his folded arms, she’s got her materials all lined up next to her. She kneels down beside him, but as she's about to start it occurs to her that this is the complete wrong angle to start the piece. And she knows where she needs to sit, but she’s got no idea how to ask.

“Spencer— I can’t really— this angle is a bit, um…” she stutters

“Maybe you should sit on me?” he asks, uncharacteristically calm, maybe it was the way her voice kept going up an octave, or how fast her heart had been beating almost this entire time, but something made him realize that he wasn’t the nervous one here for maybe the first time since he’d known her.

“You would— You don't mind?” she asks before even moving, and he smiles to himself.

“How could I?”

With that she climbs in top of him, resting a leg either side of his hips. She’s painfully aware that the only thing separating them now is the thin layer of each of their underwear. But she pushes the thought aside as she gets to work.

Spencer’s quiet and well behaved for most of it, only remarking every now and again when the paint was cold against his skin, or when he had to move just a little. All in all she’s finished within an hour.

“Are you finished?” he asks, his eyes closed, relaxing beneath her as she worked. There was something almost therapeutic about the feeling of the brushstrokes against his skin. But he hadn’t felt one for 3 whole minutes now.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring it” she says, “I’ll take a picture for you” she reaches for her phone, snapping a quick photo. Then she sits up off of him and he misses the weight of her on top of him instantly.

When he sits up she sits down opposite him, handing over the phone so that he can take a look at the painting that adorned his back. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The delicate lines, the striking colors, the perfect hands that had painted it.

“This is— I don’t even have the words” he says it in a hushed whisper, “I love it so much” she knows he’s telling the truth again, his eyes don't even look up from the screen to see her reaction, they’re still completely transfixed on the photo. When he does look up he’s smiling.

“Am I telling the truth?” he asks and she nods, but something about her nervous little expression, coupled with her sky-rocketing heart rate gives him the confidence he’s needed for years.

“What if I told that I’ve liked you for a very long time? Would I be telling the truth about that?” his smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips.

For a second she’s not even sure if this is really happening, her eyes trail along his bare torso, taking in the tiny bits of paint that made it down his sides. When her eyes come back up to look in his own, still trained on her she can’t even speak, instead she’s lunging at him, pulling him in by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

She parts hers after a moment, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside, tangling with her own as his hands fly out to grab her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. When they break apart their chests are heaving, breathing ragged, staring straight into each others eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he gasps before his lips are on hers again, hungry and eager.

Her hands start to roam all over his body, soothing over the planes of his skin, digging her fingernails in every now and again, forcing a little moan out of Spencer each time. When he finally grows too impatient his fingers start to work open the buttons on her oversized shirt.

After a minute he’s managed to get them all open and he can pull the shirt apart. As it slouches off of her shoulders he can see her underwear, it’s mismatched and there’s something endearing about it. The fact that neither of them anticipated this. But that was probably for the best, if he knew this is what he was going to do tonight his nerves would’ve gotten the better of him.

His hands are on her immediately, grabbing her breasts over the light cotton fabric, squeezing them gently as he presses his mouth against her neck, planting soft kisses all along it. She takes the time to shrug out of the shirt completely, and his hands snake behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off. Exposing her breasts completely for just a second before his mouth is on them. Cupping one in each hand and placing rough, sloppy kisses all over the soft skin as she moans above him.

“Spencer” she says it with a little gasp as his lips wrap around one of her nipples, just the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was enough to make him hard.

“I need you” she whimpers, and he's gone, bringing one of his hands down between her legs, ghosting over the crotch of her panties to feel the damp patch that had formed there.

“You’re so wet for me” he breathes against her ear, pushing one of his fingers harshly against the fabric, right against her clit, forcing another moan from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I climbed on top of you” she moans, “I was worried you were gonna be able to feel it” she says with a breathy laugh.

“If I’d have been able to feel this,” he says, rubbing small circles over her panties, “then you wouldn’t have gotten to finish that painting”

Once he takes his fingers away she pushes him down by his shoulders, finally straddling the other side of his hips like she’d been thinking about doing for the past hour, or past several years. But he lets out a small yelp of protest.

“The painting!” he says as his back collides with the canvas but she chuckles.

“Fuck the painting” she leans in planting feverish kisses all along the expanse of his neck, sucking and biting in spots so that they’d hopefully leave little bruises later on.

From there they both give up on trying to preserve any of the art on Spencer’s back. Within a matter of minutes it was smeared all along the canvas beneath them. Along with some of the paint one, or both of them, had managed to knock over.

He’s not sure exactly how it happened but at one point he grips her waist and leaves a blue hand print along her skin from the paint he’d managed to put his palm in. When she catches sight of it she just lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t care” she says, when he’s looking up at her with just the smallest hint of worry, “As long as it doesn't get inside me we’re alright”

Before they get too messy she sits up off of him for a minute, taking off her panties and using them to wipe off the little bit of paint that had somehow ended up next to Spencer’s bottom lip. He lets out a small gasp as she traces the fabric along his skin and mutters a tiny, “Good as new” in her sultry sweet voice.

And then her lips are on his again as one of her hands snakes down in-between them to pull at the waistband of his boxers, she gets them down far enough to pull his cock out so that it was right in front of her. He was already achingly hard but something about the size of if in her nimble fingers made him twitch in her grip, leaking from the head with the anticipation.

“God, the things I want to do to you” she gasps as she pumps him up and down in long last strokes, squeezing every now and again as he squirmed underneath her, “But right now I need you inside me Spencer”

With that she rises up on her knees, hovering over him and lining his cock up right between her legs. She takes a second to tease him, running the head through her folds, so that he could feel and hear just how wet she was for him. Once he looks like he can’t take even one more second of the teasing she lowers her hips slowly, sinking down onto his length bit by bit. Right until her hips were flush with his own and he was buried completely inside of her.

They both had to take a minute to savor the feeling. The way she was so wet and warm around him, so tight that he could feel the way she clenched around him. 

The way he stretched her out so perfectly, filling her up in a way that made her think they might actually be made for each other.

And then she starts to move, pumping her hips up and down, leaning forward slightly so that she can rest her hands on his flushed chest for support. She starts off slow, almost at a teasing pace, taking him in as deep as she could each time.

“You feel even better than I imagined” he mutters, his hands coming up to grab her hips, leaving another set of handprints in their wake. “So perfect”

She leans down a little further so that she can place a small kiss on his lips.

“God, you do to! Didn’t know it could feel this good” she moans without really thinking about it, and then she realizes it’s the truth. Something about the anticipation made all of this feel so much better than it ever had with anyone else.

With his hands guiding her now, gripping her harshly, she starts to move faster. Working up and down with more force, both of them panting and moaning desperately as they grew closer and closer.

He’d dreamt about it, imagined it, thought about it, more times than he’d care to admit. But seeing her now, on top of him with her lips softly parted, little whines falling out of her as she hit her climax, he realized his mind could never do this justice.

“Fuck! Ah— Spencer, I’m gonna—” her hips slow to almost a stop, working up and down still but with staggered movements as she rides out her high. Thankfully Spencer’s only a second behind her and she can feel the way he's spilling inside of her, filling her up completely. Then she collapses flat onto his chest, both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat that almost makes their bare skin stick together.

“You’re covered in paint you know” is the first thing Spencer says, his fingers tracing along her back.

“You’re one to talk” she jokes, dragging her finger through the streak of red paint that had gotten on his neck somehow.

Then he finally turns his head, looking at the spilled and smeared paint that lay around them on the once bare canvas.

“I thought you needed this canvas for that painting?” he asks, but she just looks up at him with a smile.

“I think this turned out better”

– –

Comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated, I love you all x

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[animationmovieshipps]

Need Help? +18

To do something different from the usual and escape the monotony of going from work to home and from home to work everyday, you signed up for the city's book club, where other women gathered to comment on reading a book they all read together.

Fortunately, your best friend Reina has offered to accompany you so you don't feel so out of place in the midst of so many unknew people to you.

Last month, the club read "11 Minutes", by Paulo Coelho, a book about a Brazilian prostitute in Switzerland who wants to save enough money to go back to Brazil and give her parents a better life.

You both liked the book a lot, but Reina definitely hated the ending.

"Like, why did she do all that? To end up staying where she was because of that guy???" She said, making her indignation clear.

"You're really upset by the end of this book huh?" You commented between laughs and slightly bowed her.

"And you wanted me not to be upset??? That painter was a madman who..."

You continued to listen to her attentively. Until when your gaze lifted from the new month's book that was rested on your lap and you immediately felt your heart skip one beat. You had saw her again, beautiful as if she had just stepped out of a dream.

You could no longer hear a word that Reina was saying, the world around you seemed to disappear. A passionate sigh left your lips as your eyes keep admiring her, the most fairest of all the Madrigals.

You didn't give a shit about everything that everyone always said just about her sister Isabela, Luisa caught your eye in the most amazing way the moment you saw her for the first time.

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N!" Reina said, waving her hand in front of your face to try to rid you of your passionate delirium.

Until, with a shake of the shoulder from her, you were pulled back to reality and looked back at her.

"What? W-what happened?" You asked, confused.

"Nothing happened, just the usual, you drooling over Miss Muscles again." She teased you, giving you little shoves and wiggling her eyebrows, making your cheeks flush brightly.

"What? N-no, I'm not drooling." You denied it, then turned your back on her and discreetly wiped the saliva that ran from the corner of your mouth.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" She questioned. "You've been on this 'go or don't go' for so long."

"Haha, do you really think it's that easy? I'm gonna approach her and say 'Hey Luisa, I've been completely in love with you since I saw you, will you marry me?', it's not that simple and I don't have your luck." You replied.

"I've never said anything about getting married right away, you can dating some time before, going on dates, getting to know each other better... And mayne getting to know each other's private parts too..."

You gasped at being embarrassed by her pervert comment and gave her a little push, making her laugh.

"Come on, I know you're total nuts for that girl."

You couldn't deny that her statement was true.

But who could judge you for that? Luisa was a young woman of such a unique and extraordinary beauty, which reflected perfectly on her both inside and out. It was revolting to you how she wasn't even one-third appreciated as she deserved.

Sometimes, making sure she didn't see you, you secretly watched her from afar on days when she decided to exercise outdoors.

Watching how the muscles in her arms flexed whenever she lifted heavy things, how her beautiful tan skin glistened when it got wet with sweat, and the rough, wild demeanor she displayed in those moments made your body burn from heat even more than the scorching sun of summer days.​

There weren't a few nights when you had dreams, which anyone would say were extremely indecent for a young woman of your age, where you saw yourself in her arms. It felt so real, you felt an endless bliss and you loved her with all your intense passion.

However, having her only in your dreams wasn't enough, it even caused you an emptiness. You wanted more than anything for her to be your girlfriend, but you had to wait until you were brave enough to walk up to her and say a simple "hi."

"Wait for me here, I won't be long." Reina warned you, before getting up from the bench.

You shrugged and watched as she walked away.

Until, your eyes widened and you felt that your heart was about to stop when you saw her walk towards Luisa, who was carrying some wooden boards somewhere, but stopped when she saw the girl call her name.

"Ay Díos mio, que esta loca estás haciendo?" You asked yourself mentally, while squeezing the fabric of your skirt between your hands, a characteristic gesture of yours when you started to get nervous.

In the middle of the conversation they were both having, Reina pointed in your direction and you felt like you were having a breakdown, after all, it wasn't every day that the love of your life finally noticed you after so long.

She waved at you with a smile. Naturally, she was always so cute and nice with everyone. So she wouldn't think you were rude, you shyly waved back.

The next day, you had your house cleaned up and you were feeling confident like never before. Reina had told Luisa that you needed help fixing something and she agreed to go there that day.

You were finally going to talk to her and say everything you felt. If she reciprocated those feelings, you would be the happiest woman not only in the Encanto, but in the entire world. If she rejected you, at least you got it off your chest and sometime and somehow, you'd feel better.

After some time of waiting, you heard a slow knock on the front door. Holding back a loud, high-pitched squeak of excitement, as you felt in your heart that it was her, you rose from your chair and ran to it.

You opened the door, your expression of joy and the huge smile on your lips slowly faded when you saw her. She was out of breath, her face was dripping with sweat and her hair was disheveled, along with an exhausted expression on her face.

Upon noticing that you were looking at her, Luisa immediately regained her composure (or at least tried to) and gave you a smile, but it wasn't as genuine as the one she gave you the day before.

"... Hi." You greeted her, unable to hide your concern for her condition.

"Hi!" She exclaimed, her voice was hoarse, as if her throat had been dry for 3 days. "So? Shall we fix this problem at your house?" She said, between panting breaths.

"You look too tired for that..." You tried to argue, but she soon cut you off.

"No, no, don't worry about it, I'm fine, I just hauled in some logs and I just need a few minutes to recover." She explained.

You were thoughtful for a moment, until you took her hand and pulled her into your house.

"What are you doing?" She asked confused but didn't rebel against your actions.

"Have a seat, this is not a request." You said firmly.

Being surprised, but at the same time for some reason being attracted to know that trait of your personality, she sat down on the couch and breathed a sigh of relief to rest her legs after so much time on her feet doing favors for others.

"Do you want some water?" You asked, placing a hand on one of her shoulders.

Luisa was surprised again, none of the villagers had ever bothered to see to it that she had a break, much less offered her something to drink after doing heavy work... Because they knew she didn't need it, she was strong and not needed long rests.

But at that moment, she was so thirsty that she couldn't deny it.

"Yes please." She answered.

While she was drinking water, you went to the bathroom and got a towel for her to dry her face, which she did, after much insistence on your part and assuring to her that you would have no problem washing the towel afterwards.

You watched in delight as Luisa grasped one end of the red bow and slowly tugged, making her beautiful brown hair fall down her shoulders and down her back.

And you didn't believe that a beauty like her could get even more beautiful.

Not long after, she gathered the locks and tied her hair back into a perfect bun, leaving you with a slight feeling of disappointment.

"Why don't you let your hair down more often?" You asked out of curiosity, while leaning your elbow on the arm of the chair.

"I've already tried, but hard work doesn't requires something to get in the way and my loose hair was a big problem, especially when it was windy." She explained, right after she got up, a smile on her lips as she felt completely refreshed. "So? Let's see this problem I need to fix here at your house?"

You smiled, deciding that was the moment for her to know the whole truth.

"There's nothing to fix in my house." You confessed calmly.

Her face soon became a confused look. Why would you call her there for nothing?

"But your friend told me that..."

"A lovely excuse Reina made up for you to come." You said between giggles.

"But if you didn't call me here for this, what do you want then?" She asked, her tone demanding an answer from you.

Silently, you stood up and, walking in slow steps, approached her, getting closer and closer and celebrating inside when she didn't pull away.

"Isn't it obvious already? I want you, Luisa." You whispered, their faces so close to each other you could feel her hot breath hitting your face.

However, just as you were about to actually feel what it was like to kiss that beautiful mouth for the first time, her hands firmly grabbed your wrists when your had rested on her shoulders and she pulled away.

An awkward silence ensued between the two of you as you looked at each other. She looked shocked by your actions, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing, which had already returned to normal, became labored again.

"Look, I don't have time for this, okay?" She said, making you feel as if your heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces.

You waited for her to go away, for you to go to your room to lie on your bed and expel your pain through your crying until you fell asleep. But for some reason, she just stood there, seeming to wait for you to say something.

"I get it. I'm not pretty enough." You said, failing to not let out a choked voice and feeling that unbearable discomfort in your throat from holding back your tears.

Realizing that you were heartbroken, Luisa quickly tried to clarify that situation.

"Hey, no, it's not like that..."

"It's okay, really. Deep down I knew someone like you would never look at someone like me, I was an idiot to believe that..."

You were suddenly startled when her hands roughly grabbed you by the shoulders to get your attention and make you stop talking.

"It's not because of that, okay? When I first noticed you yesterday, I thought you're beautiful!" She confessed.

You instantly became speechless. Your cheeks flushed heavily at what she said, also because she was so close to you again. After so much time just watching Luisa from afar, where she seemed unreachable, you felt like every time she got close, it would always be a whirlwind of emotions.

Her impatient frown slowly faded as your eyes met for the first time. You felt like you could get lost into them forever.

Your eyes closed again, thinking that this time she would kiss you, but they opened again at the sound of her voice breaking the silence this time.

"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you, it wasn't on purpose. It's just that I was surprised and a little shocked too because let's face it, something like this doesn't happen every day." She said.

"I know, it was a stupid idea." You agreed between laughs. "But for me, it was worth getting to that moment now."

Luisa remained silent at your answer, which you took as a signal for you to continue talking.

"Luisa... I love you." You finally opened your heart to the one you loved, without fear and without wanting to go back in time so it never happened so you could try again. "But what about you? Do you at least likes me a little bit?"

The tall, strong girl was silent for a few instants, until her gaze turned to the door.

"Y/N, not that I don't want to stay, but could we talk about this later? I still need to go help the rest of..."

"Why?" You interrupted her. "You're not here doing nothing, you're helping me with something very important. It can't be left for later."

Luisa thought. It was definitely better for her to stay there with you, than to go out and be bombarded with tiresome, unending requests that only made her want the day to end faster.

"Well..." She said, as she scratched the back of her head, a very cute gesture of hers. "I can't deny that you attract me as woman."

"Really?" You asked, beaming at that answer.

"Yes, do you doubt it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm. A little, you twice prevented us from kissing." You replied with a smile, while crossing your arms.

Luisa rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she couldn't hide a small smile.

"Okay, bring it in." She said as she bent down to your height.

Not wasting the opportunity, you approached, with a little apprehension if Luisa would get away from you again. Seeing that this time she wouldn't, you slowly leaned in, not breaking her eye-contact, until their lips touched for the first time.

You didn't let it go beyond an innocent peck initially, you didn't want to do anything unexpected so as not to scare her.

When, you ended up being surprised when you felt her strong arms wrap around your body and pressed you even more against her, while she started kissing you. It wasn't a peck, you could feel the warm inside of her mouth brush gently against your closed lips.

You felt like thousands of fireworks were exploding inside your brain, your senses became so bewildered you didn't know what to do.

After taking a few seconds to recover from the shock, you kissed her back, one of your hands cupping her cheek while your other arm wrapped around her neck, desperately wanting to pull her closer to you, not understanding that it wasn't possible.

You were happy for so many reasons, but mostly for proving one thing. When you were a little girl, your mother always said that when you kissed a person, the kiss tasted like what the person had eaten or drank before, but when you kiss a person being in love with them, the kiss tasted like honey.

When kissing Luisa, you felt the taste of the sweetest honey you had ever tasted in your life.

You felt like you were burning with fever, as the kisses became even more heated and hungry. It was infinitely better than you imagined it would be. If what you were experiencing at that moment was just another realistic dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the floor and when you saw it, you were pinned against a wall.

You gasped in her mouth and a shiver ran through your body as you felt her palm enter under your blouse and gently ran up your skin, until it cupped one of your breasts and slightly squeezed.

Luisa broke the kiss, a thread of saliva still connecting your mouths. She laughed adorably at your extremely stunned reaction by what she had done. You never thought things between she and you would get that far too soon.

You felt the flush on your face intensify and your heart beat even faster as her head tilted to the side and you felt her mouth very close to your ear.

"What's wrong, nena? You wanted me, you got it, now take the hit." She whispered, drawing low moans from you as she nibbled on your earlobe.

"Tell me who told you I'm complaining about it." You retorted, in an equally teasing tone of voice.

"Good to know." She replied, as she used one of her hands and impatiently stripped you of your skirt, leaving you only in your panties, that was already soaked by your growing arousal.

Having already tasted her lips and become addicted, you cupped her cheeks and pulled her face close for another kiss. Kissing her was like drinking water after being thirsty for centuries.

As your lips passionately slid against each other, your hands eagerly explored her upper body. It was beyond sublime to be able to touch now instead of just contemplating from afar.

When you least expected it, you felt your legs shake and let out a muffled moan when you felt her fingers brushing your clit through the fabric, causing those nice tickles to spread through every part of your body.

You just loved that sensation, even more when it was she doing it instead of yourself.

"Already so wet like this? I liked it." She murmured, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them, while seductively looking deep into your eyes.

Crazy with passion and unable to keep your mouth off her body for more than 20 seconds, you leaned over and greedily filled her neck with kisses, licks and nibbles.

"Ah! Oh yes, that's it, that's the spot..." Luisa moaned, when you accidentally found a soft spot.

You were more than happy to oblige, wanting her beautiful sounds of pleasure to continue to bless your ears.

As you began to grope her breasts through her blouse, you felt her pull the fabric of her panties from the way and without warning, pressed fingers to your sensitive bulge and rubbed gently in circular motions.

You moaned her name out loud, feeling spikes of pleasure rise up your spine and the heat in your core rise. If you weren't leaning against a wall, you would fall to the floor.

Not long after, she started to slide one of her big fingers along your entrance, until she slowly inserted it inside you. You freaked out, when instead of feeling good, you now felt nothing but an umpleasurable burning, feeling like it was... Ugh, like it was a cock tearing you apart inside.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" You moaned, but not from pleasure.

Noticing your reaction, Luisa immediately stopped what she was doing.

"What happened? Did I hurt you?" She asked, looking worried.

"No, it was nothing, it's just..." You said, a little embarrassed to continue talking.

"What? It's because you don't like being fingered?" She asked again.

You nodded.

"No, I know there are girls who like it, but for me it's just uncomfortable and... Really weird." You confessed.

"Oops, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Luisa apologized, feeling guilty for what she had done.

You smiled at her and brought one of your hands up to her face, caressing her cheek.

"You don't need to apologize, I know it wasn't with bad intentions, you were just trying to please me." You answered.

"Okay, lesson learned: No fingering for you from now on." She joked between giggles.

"It's fine by me." You said, laughing along with her.

Another moment of silence followed, until you gasped softly as you felt her fingers working your vulva again.

"Is it okay this way?" She asked in a soft voice.

Made speechless by the wave of ecstasy that hit you so suddenly again, you agreed with her with a nod.

Now you were absolutely sure it wasn't a dream anymore, it soon became impossible not to get close to your limit, especially after her touches intensified and got faster at your begging for more.

Your arms clung to her tightly and you buried your head in her chest, to muffle your loud groans and prevent anyone outside the house from hearing.

"Are you close yet?" She whispered, using her force to stop your spasms by instinct.

You couldn't answer with words anymore, but almost at the same moment Luisa asked that question, orgasm hit you. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was so intense and pleasurable at the same time, that you felt as if you had been transported to another universe.

You had gone through the same experience before, but never like this. But it was obvious, it was because the woman you loved most in the world did it for you.

Luisa released some of the grip that held you up against the wall and sat you on the floor. When you came to your senses, you opened your eyes and smiled widely when you saw her in front of you.

You approached and kissed her passionately, never wanting to pull away. But you also felt an overwhelming need to want to make her feel good too.

"Can I do something for you?" You asked.

Luisa seemed surprised by your question, but it was only fair for you to return what she gave you.

"Do you really want to do this?"

"If not why would I be asking?" You replied between giggles, while holding the hem of her skirt. "Can I?"

The beautiful young woman in front of you nodded, making you smile again. You pulled up her skirt and folded it in her waist, then, you stripped her of her pants and the panties that were underneath.

You couldn't help but be impressed by how much vaginal discharge those panties had, it looked like it was coming from someone with a huge pussy. It was kinda obvious, how could a woman who had a higher body proportion than every other woman in town not have a significantly larger vagina?

You felt the blush intensifying on your face, causing dizziness, when Luisa opened her legs even more and facilitated your access to the most intimate part of her body.

It was big, but at the same time it was cute as she was, with those little hairs around it and rosy, long lips that looked shy and didn't want to totally show off. The thought that your entire face could be easily swallowed by it made your clit throbbing again and more of the natural lubrication oozed out of you.

Wasting no time, you grabbed one of her feet and took of her shoe. She had extremely adorable feet.

Before Luisa asked out of curiosity what you were going to do with her foot, you started kissing it, leaving a trail of passionate kisses as you climbed up her leg, up her thigh, until you finally got where you wanted it, wrapping your arms around her thighs.

"Hey wait, wait a second." Luisa requested, but it didn't stop your urges to touch her to feel in your hand.

She moaned softly, at the gentle touch of your fingers, stroking her all the way and moved the lips away to prepare for your tongue. It felt really warm, wet and had a slightly weird texture at first, but at the same time it was inexplicably pleasant. You loved so much.

"Have you by any chance done this before?" She asked, lifting her head to look at you.

"Eh no, but I usually train with oranges." You confessed between laughs, as you positioned your head again.

"Heh, so let's see how you deal with the real thing." She said, before giving you a wink and went back to laying her back on the icy tile of the floor of your house.

Unable to wait a second longer, you opened your mouth and plunged your face into her cunt, starting leisurely, slowly moving your head and making your tongue skim up and down between her folds.

You continued at that pace for a while, worried about hearing nothing but her breathing. At that moment, the first thing that crossed your mind was to stop, since apparently you couldn't satisfy her.

But soon, you pulled yourself together and swept that insecurity thoughts under the rug, you wanted so much to live that moment and you could regret for the rest of your life for throwing it away.

You gradually started to speed up your pace, applying pressure and voraciously licking every corner of her you could reach, your chin and part of your cheeks felt inside her and you moved your nose to stimulate where your mouth wasn't.

Trying as hard as she could to suppress her responsive nature, she couldn't hold back a high-pitched cry, as she felt the little tickles turn to shivers of pleasure as you started to intensify things.

You were surprised when your ears picked up another one of her beautiful sounds, discovering that the problem wasn't really you.

"Am I doing okay?" You asked in between a quick pause, but then went back to working your mouth on her.

"Gosh you're doing great, for a first time." She praised, then gasped and took a deep breath.

"Don't hold back, let me hear you, please." You pleaded in a low voice.

You gave a groan of satisfaction against her femininity when she granted your request and you really discovered how loud she was and it was the best thing in the world to hear how you were pleasing her.

Your hands tightened on her thighs as you wrapped your lips in her folds and began slurping on it heartily as if there was no tomorrow, alternating between them and her clit.

She screamed loudly and her eyes rolled back, feeling closer and closer to her release. You made a surprised noise as you felt one of her hands grab your hair and tug.

"Oh mother of God, Y/N! Fuck yeah, that feel so good, please don't stop..."

You weren't able to stop even if you wanted to, you were totally dominated by your instincts and would continue with what you were doing until you tasted her orgasm.

Over time, her moans grew louder and louder, repeating your name as if she were a broken record and your thighs clenched on either side of your head, but you didn't care, you even liked it.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."

When you least expected it, your mouth was flooded with her cum, drinking it all down without a second thought. It was salty, rather than sweet as you imagined it would be, but you weren't disappointed.

You wiped the excess that had run down your chin and looked at her, leaning on one of her legs.

"So? How was it?" You asked, even though the expression on her face had already made it very clear that you did well.

"Geez, who are the oranges I have to thank for this?" She asked, while wiped away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

You laughed out loud, both at the joke and at not expecting it.

"Hey, Luisa." You said, which made her sit up to look at you.

You looked at her fondly as you stroked her cheek, hoping she didn't think you were too sentimental.

"Thank you." You said.

After that, she no longer doubted how many times she would be surprised that day.

"And... Why exactly are you thanking me?" She asked, she didn't hear that word much unless it was from someone in her family.

"For such an incredible time, why else would it be?" You said between giggles.

Something had changed in that instant, you felt your melting when Luisa smiled and looked fondly at you, before leaning over and giving you a quick kiss.

"Okay, not that I don't want to, but now I really have to go, I must be late for the rest of the chores." She said as she grabbed and put her panties and pants back on.

"Aww really? I just realized that without you time passes so slowly." You lamented and pouted.

"See you later." She said as she threw her skirt at you which covered your entire head.

You felt joyful like never before when she said that phrase.

"Wait, do you really want to see me again?" You asked, a little in disbelief.

"Is my cousin the biggest gossip in the Encanto?"

You laughed again. She gave you a quick kiss goodbye and walked to the door.

Before going through the door, she turned and looked at you, still sitting there on the floor.

"Aren't you going to get up from there?" Luisa asked, a small smile drawn on her pretty lips.

"No, I'm staying here for a while." You answered.

"Whatever you want, it's your house. Oh, and whenever you need, I don't know... "Help", call me." she said, before winking at you again.

"You can be sure I will." You smiled, watching as your love left and closed the door.

You screamed of so much happiness and lay on the floor, that was by far the most incredible day of your entire life. You still needed her help, needed you two to love each other forever.

[readingqueerbooks]

[“there were times when the pressure to achieve happiness felt almost oppressive, as if happiness were something that everyone should and could attain, and that any sort of compromise in its pursuit was somehow your fault.”]

a little life — hanya yanagihara [ 4/5 ★ ]

god where do i start. i have a lot of thoughts after finishing this book — it was loooooong. a little too long, maybe? i feel like it still could have gotten its point across had it been a little shorter. the writing style is also a little unconventional and took me a few chapters to really appreciate, but that being said, it was still arguably very well-written. i have highlights and tabs and annotations on nearly every page.

one thing i will say before i really get into anything else is PLEASE take the trigger warnings seriously. this book is basically just trauma after trauma after trauma and it’s all very graphic (more so than i was expecting even after reading multiple reviews). there are like two happy moments in the whole book lmao.

but the CHARACTERS. oh my god the characters. specifically jude and willem. they were absolutely wonderful. incredibly well-rounded (which i suppose you’d expect with a book of 800+ pages but still) and written so beautifully — you really feel for them. jude’s point of view especially hits hard. his perspective is so sad and extremely traumatic but he is such a beautiful character, you can’t help but love him immediately. not gonna lie, i cried several times reading about jude and his experiences throughout the book (i love him… So much).

however, i don’t know if i would necessarily suggest this book to anyone. it was honestly very hard to read at some points, albeit being a beautifully written book. if you do read it (and if you like audiobooks) i would highly suggest the audiobook. i’m not usually a fan of audiobooks myself, but i grew very attached to the narrator and his way of telling the story and especially his portrayal of the characters. it was probably my favourite audiobook i’ve ever listened to. all in all, this book was undeniably an a piece of literary genius and my kudos go to the author for creating something so heartbreakingly beautiful.

synopsis:

When four classmates from a small Massachusetts college move to New York to make their way, they're broke, adrift, and buoyed only by their friendship and ambition. There is kind, handsome Willem, an aspiring actor; JB, a quick-witted, sometimes cruel Brooklyn-born painter seeking entry to the art world; Malcolm, a frustrated architect at a prominent firm; and withdrawn, brilliant, enigmatic Jude, who serves as their center of gravity. Over the decades, their relationships deepen and darken, tinged by addiction, success, and pride. Yet their greatest challenge, each comes to realize, is Jude himself, by midlife a terrifyingly talented litigator yet an increasingly broken man, his mind and body scarred by an unspeakable childhood, and haunted by what he fears is a degree of trauma that he'll not only be unable to overcome—but that will define his life forever.

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

[a03bkdk]

no quirks bkdk fic rec list (p 2)

thirsty gay wingman fic by lalazee

((smut-14130-1/1))

Oct 11, 2019 "Thinkin abt besties-since-birth BkDk goin to college together, Dk begrudgingly bein Bkg's wingman w/chicks & lamenting his big gay crush. One nite, Bkg cant get laid, hes drunk in a shitty mood, so Dk propositions him, which turns into the best night ever & the WORST consequences."

My tweet got 366 likes & 66 reblogs, so that was more than enough reason to write about it.

romeo and romeo by supercrunch

((10473-1/1))

There’s a nasally howl from the neighbour’s place. Izuku looks up – it’s the very loud, very blond guy living in the unit opposite. They’re technically in separate blocks but their balconies are close enough they can see into each other’s living rooms. He’s dancing around in his pyjamas. Yodelling at the top of his lungs off-key, swinging his Pomeranian around by the armpits like a furry ragdoll. “You’re a dog! You’re a fluffy little yellow dog and you’re a pain in the ass but you’re still my favourite shit-stain, yeah!”

Izuku bursts out laughing. The neighbour’s head whips around. He yelps when he sees him, tossing the dog on the couch and scrambling out of view to hide in the hall.

Izuku drops the watering can and runs back inside to find his phone.Small Might: Guys. I've decided i have a crush on my neighbour.

(quarantine baking: a balcony romance)

mechanical bull by warschach

((smut-27573-1/1))

Katsuki has a track record of bad choices, it's a condition, but Izuku might be the one choice that's right.

battle of the bands by roadtripwithlucifer

((smut-168158-26/26))

'The rules are simple. Battle of the Bands. Local bands send in a single track to the radio station, and ten tracks are selected. Over the coming month, the songs play on the station and listeners vote on the top five. The top 5 play a live concert as part of a music festival, then the top 3 at a larger, indoor venue. The top two have the honor of opening on the first stop of All Might’s retirement tour – here. In Izuku’s home town. And finally, the winner gets the ultimate prize. Getting to spend the rest of the tour, forty cities, across the country as All Might’s opener. Three months. Same tour bus. Shoulder to shoulder with the greatest musicians the world has ever known.'Izuku Midoriya is a broke college student presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. But winning isn't gonna be easy, especially when one band's aggressive blonde frontman seems to be dead-set on making Izuku's life a living hell.

oh my god! they were roomates! by phatye

((smut-79108-57/57))

“Don’t go through my shit, and if there’s a tie on the door, then fuck off!” Katsuki growled. “...what?” he asked. Katsuki glared at him. “This is fucking college, and I plan on getting laid a lot! I don’t need some nerd cockblocking me! And what is with all the fucking toys here!” Katsuki had moved over to his shelves. “Are you a fucking child or something?!” This was not what he was expecting.

shades of blue by young_crone

((smut-22525-1/1))

Echoes filtered down the white hall as he descended the stairs toward the locker rooms, reverberating from the pool. A whistle, the sound of breaking water. He swiped the towel over his face, paused. The sliver of cerulean catching the sinking sun pouring through the skylights, the red and white lane buoys, the burn of chlorine.Izuku ran a hand through his curls, snagging on a knot. The clock on the wall reminded him how late it was. A minute wouldn't hurt. He worried his lip. Just a glimpse.

k-9 by warschach

((smut- 18304-1/1))

Izuku takes in a stray on one rainy night, except it's not a dog, it's a dog shifter who goes by the name, Katsuki. After the initial wave of panic and embarrassment, Izuku thinks his new pet/roommate is pretty cute.

sucker punch by warschach

((smut-41551-1/1))

But, whatever, Disney Boy over there was—

Prettying up real damn good that Katsuki got kind of distracted—totally understandable, like god those CGI pine eyes—and didn’t see the straight path he made for the metal trash bin in the center of the area until he was tipping forward and waist deep in discarded bottles, plates, balled up tissues sticky with he prayed was chocolate ice cream and nacho cheese.

Mina howled behind the gate. “Look, Katsuki returned to his home.”

(or Katsuki works security at Six Flags and moonlights as a derby dude and continuously looks uncool around Izuku)

may I take your order, dipshit? by supercrunch

((6373-1/1))

So, like, maybe Bakugou wasn’t really the best choice for this whole pizza delivery shindig.

(Midoriya in love, Bakugou in denial, and way, way too much cheese.

A BakuDeku romance in thirty minutes or less. )

raise me so high (your sins become my pedestal) by stardust_painter

((smut-10804-2/2))

After his boyfriend cheats on him, Izuku wants to do something stupid. The question is how stupid does he want to be.

The answer is very stupid apparently.

eye for an eye or whatever by tobiyos

((smut-4049-1/1))

“I’ll make it up to you!” Izuku says brightly, lifting his head from Katsuki’s lap.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he isn’t still pushing Izuku away so. Progress. “Fuck are you gonna do to make it up to me?”

“Hmm…” Izuku says quietly, tapping at his chin. “Oh! You’re still a virgin, right?”

Katsuki chokes on his own spit and promptly renews his efforts of pushing Izuku away by the forehead. “Fuck off,” he wheezes, “get out of my room.”

leap of faith by ladyofsnails

((28771-4/4))

Midoriya Izuku is just a random kid who loves art, analyzes everything, and is obsessed with the (in)famous hero Mighty Spider. He's got a loving mother, a great uncle, and maybe not too many friends that aren't those two but he's working on it.

And then a random cute boy shows up at his school, a spider bites him, he meets his hero under the worst possible conditions, and it all goes to hell. Now he's got villains on his tail, a promise to keep to a dead guy, and a washed-up hobo as his mentor.

Here goes nothing.

green is the warmest color by gloriousporpoise

((smut-12287-2/2))

“Woah, someone call the fire department,” Eijirou says, elbowing Katsuki squarely in the ribs. “That guy is smokin.’”

“I literally hate you.”

Here’s the thing, though. Eijirou’s a certified dumbass, but his current observation isn’t even a little bit wrong, much to Katsuki’s displeasure.

“Think you can get his number?”

Or, Bakugou is a painter without a muse.

you and i collide by ethereals

((smut-20442-9/9))

And not that Bakugou’s the type to sexualize a potentially dead body; especially one that he just accidentally murdered, but the man has some pretty solid DSL’s. He would hit it, with more than just his car.

OR

in which rich fratboy! bakugou is a badass who accidentally hits poor med student!izuku with his car and chaos ensues therefore.

97.6 FM by jamjars

((smut-32249-3/3))

Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Or Radio Host! Baugou x Listener! Midoriya

give me that sweet love by xsxuxgxax

((smut-32768-9/9))

Things Katsuki needs to excel at: be hot, be clever and pretend to be nice, let Izuku kiss him publicly, let Izuku fuck him privately…

(sugar baby katsuki and sugar daddy izuku pretty much)

dance with me by astralchaos

((30161-10/10))

Mina pulled up a video of a young man, seemingly teen, dancing to a popular new hit, and Izuku felt his heart drop to his stomach. His skin prickled and felt clammy as he started sweating nervously, not daring to move or make a noise. His eyes were glued to the screen but he didn’t see anything – his brain was too busy going into overdrive and freaking out.

Because Mina was showing him a video of himself. The one he uploaded last night.

How on Earth did she find this? He had barely a few thousand views, he wasn’t popular, and it’s not like he was even any good, especially compared to her or Kacchan–

“That move was sexy as hell,” Kacchan said, and that was when Izuku realized that his childhood friend – his longtime crush – also leaned in to watch the video Mina was showing him.

puppies puppies by Esselle

((15491-2/2))

"So after doing all that," Katsuki says, "you're just going to settle here? Tatting up wannabe bad boys?"

"You think all guys who have a lot of tattoos are wannabes?" Midoriya asks, so smoothly that it throws Katsuki.

"Wh—no, I mean—maybe!" Katsuki says. "You'd know best, wouldn't you? Are you a bad boy?"

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it, and he regrets them immediately. There's a figurative list of things that one should never do, and probably high up on it is asking dark-haired sailors with ocean green eyes and black swirls of ink all across their barely concealed muscles if they are bad boys.

--

Katsuki thinks he has everything he needs in life: a successful pet shop, an occasionally reliable assistant, and the unconditional love of the twenty puppies he’s raising for adoption. But when the tattoo parlor next door hires Midoriya Izuku, a hot sailor with an affinity for dogs, it makes Katsuki wonder if he might need something more.

Like… a piece of that ass. Maybe. He’s figuring it the hell out as he goes.

im gonna make a part 3 later ergaegrggjnjuvuh

[nolanell]

At The Museum Headcannons

The awesome @max--phillips made the meme below, and being an History of Art graduate, I wrote some headcannons for it.

For this piece, Oberyn is Modern!Oberyn / Pero is Modern!Pero / Din Djarin is SecurityGuard!Din

Lots of clickable links in this as I have linked to the artists and artworks referenced. Big thank you to @getlostbobby for an amazing idea for Max Phillips!

Dave York: You were surprised at how receptive to the idea he was. You had honestly thought he'd encourage you to go, but without him. And yet here he was, with you. He was looking at the techniques used, marveling over feathery paint strokes Rembrandt used for hair, the dramatic light and shadow of Caravaggio, and the paint application of Courbet. Dave seems to appreciate anything where a noticeable technique has been used, and he is particularly taken with anything that shows off the skill of the painter. He surprises you even further when he starts talking readily about symbolism in art and the conventions he sees in different artworks. As you're leaving, he tells you that he loves 'The Ambassadors' by Holbein and would like to come back as he could stare at it for hours.

Marcus Pike: He was so excited when you asked him to come with you. He'd been wanting to go for ages, but didn't want you to think he was asking you on a date that was 'something he wanted to do' or that he was going and you were there just to tag along. He was genuinely interested in everything that was in the collection, but was equally as interested in what you thought about each piece. He never got annoyed at any of your questions and was eager to have a conversation about art with you. He noted he thought you had an interesting perspective on a lot of the pieces that he hadn't thought of, and he excitedly explained you had given him some insight that had never occurred to him. As you queued up in the gift shop you asked what his favourite piece was, and he laughed and said he couldn't pick just one.

Ezra: He was more than happy to go with you, mainly for your company and in the hope he might find something to captivate his imagination. You and he got a fit of giggles over a nude sculpture and for a good half an hour you had to stifle giggles as you walked around together, seeing more and more of them. You calmed down quicker than he did, but you did find it adorable that he found such joy in something so childish. What did catch you off guard though, was the way he fell in love with the dreamy, hazy Monets. He sank onto one of the benches and just stared at it for what felt to you like an eternity. When you sat next to him, you listened intently to how he spoke of their ethereal, dream-like beauty. He was truly captivated by them and you promised you would let him know if there was ever a special Monet exhibition at the museum. He particularly liked the 'Houses of Parliament' paintings, and was happy to hear they were part of the permanent collection.

Jack Daniels: He giggled with you at the nude figures, but explained he thought the contrast between nudity in art (and how it is highly regarded) and modern censorship of nudity was bizarre. He was then totally hooked on art as social commentary and this dictated how he viewed a lot of the collection. His natural pace around the museum is quite quick, but he was more than happy to go at your pace and stop at anything you wanted to take your time over. He would listen to what you had to say and offer his own opinion. In terms of anything he actually liked, rather than found interesting alone, he mentioned he really liked Van Gogh's 'Wheatfield with Cypresses' series. They felt like home, he said.

Max Lord: He very matter of factly told you he would only come with you if there was a special exhibition he was interested in, and he wouldn't bother with the permanent collection. He was happy to come to the Andy Warhol special exhibition but would only go at his own pace, and was done in an hour. He went straight to the café afterward to wait for you, though did get drunk on the overpriced wine while doing so. You asked what he liked best, and he said 'Triple Elvis' by Andy Warhol, but refused to elaborate.

Oberyn Martell: He loved recreating poses of the pieces you looked at, particularly if it was the dramatic retelling of a myth. He made you join in with him, explaining that it wasn't as fun on his own, and it was the best way to enjoy the storytelling. He did, however, ask you to pose on your own by 'Girl With A Pearl Earring' by Johannes Vermeer, as he felt you could recreate it perfectly, and took a photo on his phone. Overall he prefers visiting the permanent collection as there is so much he wants to look at, and feels he could spend hours upon hours looking at everything on multiple visits. Most of all, he loves sitting in the café with you once you're finished looking around together, discussing what you'd looked at over a bottle of wine. On one visit, he buys a print of 'Judith Slaying Holofernes' by Artemisia Gentileschi as he thinks both art and artist is a strong female piece for his daughters.

Frankie Morales: He was a bit nervous about going with you, thinking you were so much smarter than him, and that it would all go over his head. He was happy to go around with you, asking about what you found interesting and looking at anything you pointed out. However, he was surprised to find that he really liked the pieces that showed everyday people doing normal, day to day things. He was particularly interested in the ones that showed what people did for fun, like 'A Concert' by Lorenzo Costa. He found it really cool that the mouths were painted in a shape that showed it matched what sound they were actually singing, based on the music score in the painting. He was really excited by 'A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte' by Georges Seurat. He loved seeing the dogs in the painting, which is what made him look, but he also loved the 'slice of life' feel to it.

Javier Peña: He agreed without hesitation to come with you, but once he got there, he felt so out of place that he headed straight for the café to wait for you. He insisted you take as long as you wanted and to not worry about him. He didn't get far, though, and pulled you over to 'At the Theatre' by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. He very quietly told you that while he thought you were much more beautiful than the girl in the foreground, he said it reminded him so much of the first time you met. He'd seen you across the crowded entrance to the embassy, and he felt like the face of the man in the background, desperate to meet the beautiful girl across the room.

Comandante Veracruz: He only agreed to come with you because you swore you'd be out before closing time, and because you promised that when you were done, you'd have dinner at the restaurant he'd been eyeing up for weeks. He went straight to the café, mumbling 'before closing' as he went. True to your word, you came to find him with a good couple of hours to spare. He melted a little bit when he saw how happy you were at having spent most of the day surrounded by art, and promised he would come with you again and try and look at some of the exhibits.

Pero Tovar: He only went because you promised you wouldn't mind if he spent the whole time in the café. He said he would wait until he got bored, then you were on your own. You were almost as surprised as he was, though, when he stopped by 'The Battle of San Romano' by Paolo Uccello and was genuinely interested in it. He actually asked you questions about it, and asked why it was so important in how artists approached perspective in painting. He also spent a lot of time looking at 'Whistlejacket' by George Stubbs and marveled at the accuracy. He did eventually go to the café, but was there for much less time than he thought. And he asked you to get him a print of 'Whistlejacket' from the gift shop when you were done.

Max Phillips: You regretted asking him to come as soon as the words left your mouth, but you weren't sure why. You knew he would do something ridiculous, this is Max you were talking about; you just couldn't figure out what. 'Licking a painting' was not on your bingo card of Max shenanigans, but here you were in the museum, staring intently at whatever exhibit was on the other side of the room as Max was escorted out. Once you knew he was gone, you turned around to check where he had been, and had to stifle your laughter. For all the embarrassment, knowing Max was thrown out for licking 'Saturn Devouring His Son' by Francisco Goya was possibly the funniest thing in the world, and you had to hide your laughter for the remainder of the visit.

Din Djarin: You had started talking to the quiet security guard after he apologised for disturbing you. Some guy had tried to lick a Goya in one of the other rooms, and the guard had bumped into you as he led the guy out. As he was apologising, he noticed you were looking at a piece by Kazimir Malevich and made an incredibly insightful comment. It hadn't occurred to you before, and from then on you always made an effort to seek him out when you visited. It turned out he was really into Piet Mondrian and the Constructivist movement, which explained the Malevich comment. He doesn't have a particular favourite piece, rather more interested as the movement as a whole, and how it develops. He takes you by surprise when he is very excited to tell you about an exhibition coming to the museum on astral photography (he later explained he had wanted to apply to work at NASA as a kid). Your heart melts when he shyly asks if you'd be interested in coming with him on his day off.

[rostovs-lover]

dalí on tuesday

charlie dalton x reader | cursing, smoking, brief mentions of sexual things, charlie (probably) has daddy issues, cameron | she/her pronouns | fluff | wc.2562

i am in love with charlie, this is now a charlie dalton centric blog, also ignore how terrible the title is please

anon : Hi!! I love your blog! can I request a charlie Dalton x reader fluff where reader is an artist and he visits them while they're painting? (maybe they end up wiping paint on his face?) I don't know, something really sweet at cute <33333

Charlie Dalton had been resigned to relish in small pleasures to keep himself sane at school, never did he think the library would be one of those. More specifically, the painter tucked into the basement of the library. 

                            ───☮︎───

     Charlie Dalton was a connoisseur of many things. Pretty girls, expensive wine, shitty poetry, and hand rolled cigarettes - to name a few. His imprisonment at Wellington made only one of those things readily available. So he settled - boxes of cheap smokes bought through upperclassmen, bottles of grocery store wine someone would sneak in from a party, and the two girls that occasionally came with Knox. The shitty poetry was always on deck, he had that at least. It was a tragedy to be resigned to such a bland life, there was absolutely no carpe diem-ing happening in a school that held adolescent boys to uniforms.

      It was miserable, truly, but Charlie scrapped by on the thought that soon enough there would be no more stuffy Catholic school and he could finally have a taste of freedom. In the meantime, he would have what little fun he could. The meets in the cave were always the highlight of the week. A place where he could talk and people would listen, and not because they had to but because they enjoyed it. They enjoyed his words and thoughts and presence. No one else had ever really seemed to enjoy Charlie’s presence. They could tolerate it, handle it, but they always had more pressing matters. A business meeting to attend, a bill to pay, a dinner to go to. Always something just a little bit more important and never quite enough time for Charlie. But the other Dead Poets, they valued him. He wasn’t just a kid, a college tuition to pay and a life to layout. He was a person, with interests and hobbies.

      It had been there, in the safe haven of the cave, that the idea for the library first came up. Meeks had already talked Pitts into coming, Neil didn’t take much convincing at all, Todd was also easy to lure, Cameron groaned about leaving school grounds but refused to be left out, and Knox agreed to go but only if Nuwanda came too. Charlie had already started to cover what there was to do at a library, read?

      Meeks dove into the technical manuals and Pitts followed tentatively, cradling their science project in his arms. Todd had followed Neil to the S authors, Cameron was trying to chat up the woman at the register, and God only knew what Knox was doing. He had been stranded with few options. He could find the geniuses and be talked over for the next hour or third wheel Neil but that guaranteed intruding on something he probably shouldn’t. The polite thing to do would be to rescue Cameron from making a complete fool of himself, throwing bad pick up lines at a clearly uninterested college student, but it was amusing to watch.

      Charlie settled on trying to find Knox, at least then he could have some company. Said company was absolutely nowhere to be found. The rows of shelves wound in a confusing maze and Charlie was lost before he could even begin to look. Weaving around he did come face-to-face with a rather large picture of Charles Dickens that made him recoil. It was perched just at eye level above a short staircase and it seemed to judge his every movement. Charlie followed the carpeted stairs down to escape Mister Dickens’ strange little beard and beady black eyes.

      The further down the steps Charlie descended the brighter it appeared. The lower level was the children’s section. Considerably more fun than science books or Shakespeare. The big oak counter was abandoned but the lights were still on. He was alone, still.

      Charlie sighed, sitting down in one of the bright red wooden chairs. He was much too big for it but it held well under his weight. A sad stuffed bear stared dully into him from the green glossy table.

      “Well hello,” He mumbled, picking it up under the arms, “And you must be?” He cleared his throat to take on a gruff baritone, “Mister... Bearington,” Charlie sighed, that was bad. He dropped the bear into his lap, “This is so stupid,”

      “Bearington?”

      Charlie shot around in the chair, tipping himself off center and stumbling to his feet, bear still clutched in his arms, “Where the hell did you come from?”

      “A few blocks over, walked here actually.” You turned back to your work. A painting. Not just a painting, Charlie realized, a mural. It stretched the length of the wall, roughly sketched in pencil and waiting to be finished.

      He blinked, “That’s good. The wall I mean,”

      “Thank you,” Your face flustered and Charlie took notice, “It’s not much of anything yet, just an outline. It’ll look better painted.”

      He took a few steps closer, sidling up to you, “What’s it supposed to be?”

      “A forest,” You pointed to a rotund blob perched on a long line, “That’s an owl, and there’s going to be a fox somewhere down in the grass,”

      Charlie grinned, “That’s an owl?”

      “That-” you tapped the blob, “Is a shape, objectively. Subjectively, it’s an owl.”

      His brow creased, “Subjectively it’s an owl? That's like saying Mister Bearington is a rabbit, subjectively,”

      You stared at him, baffled. It was almost irritating that he could so casually come down to your domain and invade your creative bubble. And it was even worse that he talked to himself as a stuffed bear but now he was challenging your judgment on what was and was not subjectively an owl. But he had a wonderful smile and it lessened the intrusion. Plus, you had never seen a teenage boy develop an attachment to a stuffed bear as quickly as he had, “What’s your name?”

      “Nuwanda,” He grinned, setting his chin atop his bear’s plush head.

      “Nuwanda?” You blinked at him, “That’s… neat. I’ve never heard that before.”

      “What can I say? The only Nuwanda this side of Vermont. What’s your name?”

      As you opened your mouth to answer several sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Knox spun around the corner first, closely followed by Pitts and Meeks.

      “Charlie!” Knox called, “We gotta go before Cameron proposes to the clerk.”

      You looked at the boy in front of you, “Is Charlie short for Nuwanda, or just a nickname?”

      He shrugged, “I’m Nuwanda, subjectively. It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Can’t wait to see your thing DaVinci!” He set the stuffed bear back on the table as he made his way out of the room. With Charlie’s energy gone it became much quieter and you were plunged back into the impressionistic outline of your artwork.

      The next time a library trip was suggested Charlie didn’t completely dread it. Yes, it was still numbingly boring because it was a library and he didn’t have clerks to fall in love with, people to write love letters to, anyone to kiss in the aisles, or a spaceship to build, but he did have his own personal Van Gough to torment.

      The lower level was the first place he went, not even hanging his coat on the rack inside the big double doors. He made his way past Cameron’s preoccupied receptionist and under Dickens’ hard glower. Halfway down the steps, the smell hit Charlie. Wet paint.

      You had just picked out a brush when he pulled one of the wooden chairs next to your station. He sat in it backwards, holding Mister Bearington out in front of him, “Never got your name Monet,”

      “Well, it's not that. Or Da Vinci.” You stroked the brush up the grassy outline.

      “Do you want me to guess?”

      You had yet to look at him, “Nope,”

      “Are you gonna tell me?”

      “Should I?”

      “Obviously, I told you my name.”

      You set the brush down and turned to face him, “(Name).”

      “Pretty,”

      Charlie Dalton liked many things and the musty old library uptown had never been one of them. It had ancient red carpets and gaudy gold ceilings and it was trying too hard to look regal. So it was a sheer shock when he began to leap at the suggestion of going and even more so when he chose to go by himself one afternoon. Naturally, the other poets followed him, they had to.

      Charlie didn’t dally upstairs, waving hi to the clerk and rushing down to the children’s section. A sign was posted outside the entrance warning of wet paint but he stepped around it.

      “You’re making progress Picasso!” He set his hands on his hips and took in the wall.

      You turned back to look at him, “Did you not see the caution: wet paint, do not enter sign?”

      “Oh no I saw it,” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, “It's bright orange, hard to miss, really,”

      “So you just chose to ignore it?”

      He nodded, making his way over to sit by you on the ground, “I choose to ignore lots of things, it really makes life easier,”

      You shook your head, “Are you just going to sit here and bother me?”

      “Yes, that's actually the whole reason I came today, believe it or not.”

      You blubbered in vague disbelief, “Please tell me you’re not serious,”

      “Dead serious,” Charlie grinned, leaning closer, “I had to see how your weird owl was going. And also make sure you hadn’t gone mad and cut your own ear off yet,”

      “You’ve already used the Van Gogh joke, Charles,”

      “Maybe I want your ear,”

      You paused, “You… what?”

      Charlie’s confidence cracked, “That was bad. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to sound that way. It was like, a bad pickup line? Because Van Gogh cut his ear off to send to his girlfriend,” He sighed, shaking his head, “Sorry,”

      “I mean if I had to pick someone to give my ear too I guess you would be my first choice?”

      Charlie looked at you, eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

      You shrugged, “No one else has asked, first come first serve.” You dipped your brush back into the blue paint and went to work on a patch of flowers.

      “Huh, well I do appreciate it,” Charlie scooted closer, leaning over your shoulder. He was close, very close. When you took a breath you could smell his cologne and whatever it was he used in his hair and you could feel the edge of his sunglasses brush your ear. He brought an arm around to dip his finger into the soft sky colour on your palette. And then he wiped it on your nose.

      You gasped sharply at the foreign feeling, snapping your head to the side to glare at him, “Why?!”

      Charlie snickered, leaning back, “The opportunity presented itself, how could I just let that pass?”

      You reached back, squirting a touch of purple paint over the palm of your hand, “That was truly a horrible idea,”

      Charlie shot up just as you did, stumbling backwards, “I’m sorry-” He stuck his hands up in surrender, “I regret my actions and if I could take them back I would,”

      “Hmm, but you can’t” You took a step closer, “Surrender now and it doesn’t have to get any messier than this,”

      He pointed towards your paint coated hand, “Do not,”

      You grinned, “I might,”

      “I’m begging,”

      “Fine-” You offered him your other hand, “Truce?”

      Charlie mulled it over for a moment, “Fine, truce,” He grabbed your clean hand and you used it to pull him towards you.

          “Why on earth would you trust me?” You tugged him even closer as he shrieked and smeared your hand down his cheek, “There, now we’re even,”

      Getting distracted by your triumph gave Charlie the upper hand. He pulled you to him the same you had done to him and pressed his cheek flush to yours. The paint was cold against your skin and you jolted back, away from him.

      “Vile,” You hissed, “You are vile and evil. That's so cold. You will pay, I hope you know that.”

      Charlie snorted, “Oh please, what’re you gonna do?”

      “You underestimate me, you ass, I’ll figure something out,”

      “Will you?” Charlie grinned, “I will be waiting in anticipation,”

      “You better be,”

      Meeks elbowed back into Cameron’s ribs, “You’re going to knock me over,”

      Cameron craned his neck further to peek around the corner into the children’s section, “I just want to see, let me look,”

      “Nothing is happening-” Meeks snipped, “They’re just talking now and I might be able to hear if you could can it!”

      Cameron rolled his eyes, “Of course, whatever you say,”

      “Will you shut up?” Knox batted at Cameron’s shoulder, “They’ll see us, we’re not super well hidden,”

      “If you don’t stop talking they’ll realize we’re here,” Pitts mumbled, rolling his eyes. Cameron started to rebuttal, turning to look at Gerard but the motion knocked Meeks out of place and he gasped, stumbling forwards. This did indeed draw Charlie’s attention.

      “Meeks, what the hell?” Charlie snapped. He was in a state, sunglasses askew in his hair, paint smeared from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was wrinkled away from his collarbone.

      Meeks stared, “Hi Charlie. Are there any textbooks down here, uh… the science ones?”

      Knox groaned, stepping out from behind the wall as well, “We wanted to see why you came here on a Tuesday afternoon by yourself,”

      Charlie blubbered, “Did you all come? Is Keating there too?”

      “He could be,” Meeks shrugged.

      Charlie rolled his eyes, “Will you leave, I’ll be upstairs in a second,” The other poets nodded, scampering up the steps to the first level.

      “Assholes, should have known they’d come,” Charlie sighed, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head, “I need to go before they decide to intrude again. I’ll see you soon though, anxiously anticipating payback,”

      He was almost out the door when you bucked up the courage to call out to him, “Charlie, wait.” You let him turn back to you before continuing, “Could I have your phone number?”

      He clicked his teeth, “Don’t have one, private school. But I’ll find the library number in the books and try to shoot you a call sometime,” He winked and started back up to his friends.

      Knox was waiting at the landing with a handful of tissues, which he shoved into Charlie’s hands, “So you’re gonna read your stupid poem about tits at a Dead Poets meet and then not tell us you’ve got a girlfriend?”

      Charlie grabbed the tissues, “Not my girlfriend, I meet her like two weeks ago,”

      “Didn’t stop Knox,” Neil elbowed him.

      Charlie wiped at his face, “Well I’m not Knox. I like her painting, she's good.”

      “It looks like she was painting you,” Cameron slapped at Charlie’s chest and he threw the tissues at him in retaliation.

      “Shut up, at least my library worker actually talks to me,”

      Cameron fumbled with the dirty material, batting it away from his chest, “You dick!”

      Charlie grinned, pulling his glasses down and starting towards the door. Something about it was thrilling, having this to himself. A little secret that he and you shared. His personal Salvador Dalí, something to look forwards to besides bad tobacco and Keating’s eccentric lectures. It was bright and exciting and he felt seen. He felt important. The blue paint he had stolen from your tray was still on the tip of his pointer finger and he wondered how long it would be until he could see you again.

 ( @interwebseriesfan24 )

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.