#Though the most questions I had were about colouring process

[soonysy]

Hello :D

Goofy Magpie here to ask about your art process! Do you have any tips on how you do your sketching and/or rendering process? I hope this isn’t bothering you or anything but I really like your art and want to know how to do stuff like it ya know cause it’s cool and amazing

Also what art program do you use?

Well, hello! It is pretty hard to answer, just because I sometimes change the way that I do things, but I'll try my best to explain!

Everything is under the cut!!

Firstly, I use PaintToolSai2 :D

I try not to think a lot about line art. Most of the time, I do a very rough sketch from the basic forms and start making the character over it, like this

I have no idea how this circle just became this line art without any sketches; it just happens

Sometimes it helps to do an overly-detailed sketch, like the skull with eyeballs, to make a good form of eyes

I highly recommend not overthink sketches and line art. If you think that something is wrong, leave your art for some time (20 mins is enough for me) and then look at it again (or send it to your friend and ask what is off)

I like to add a pack of short lines on the clothes beside the foldings, it can fill in the empty space

It is really helpful to mirror you work at some point. Please, if you see a mistake when you flip canvas, correct it, even if you will have to change everything in your art. I was scared of it at first, but then it started to come in handy

For the clothes PLEASE USE REFERENCES, they are very helpful

I always try to make lines not straight, but curvy. This can add some flow to clothes or show that human bodies are not flat figures

Then I do basic colours (With the background to pick colours correctly!!!!)

My colour palette mostly is not in the same range of colours (Like yellow - orange - red), which might become a problem if you don't know colour theory (I definitely do not know it).

And then I do shading with the same colour as base one on multiply layer and lighting with colours lighter than base on screen or shine layer (And I do not like that part, because most of the time I'm messing things up, but if it looks okay, it's fine)

I also sometimes colour the line art. Most of the time I choose colour more saturated and darker than the base ones, but there are still cases where contrasting lines are better!!!!

I do not like render at all, but of course I really recommend you to do it only because rendering does this:

Render is really only picking colours, mixing them and then doing line with darkest one, it is not my strong side (There is a channel on Youtube called Bluebiscuits, there are a lot of helpful advises for this ^ type of art)

Also I think that for rendering is useful to look at other artists works! They can have some techniques that can make your work prettier (I personally had no idea about textures on the art works before one artist and now it helps me do these finishing touches sometimes that are necessary)

I think that this post is not that mush useful, just because I use the same techniques as the rest of the people, these advises are pretty common, but they saved me lots of nerves when I started this drawing-every-day thing

I do not do something very unique or extraordinary with my arts and style :P Just have fun and do whatever you want and remember: If it looks cool, it works

Have a great day!!

[acesofspadess]

Lucky Star

max verstappen x reader

warnings: PDA?? breaking up??? curse words,

summary: upgrades to his car were fine, but having his lucky star in the lone star was even better

Max had not won a race since June, many fans believed it was because of the breakup between him and his now ex Kelly, but no one really knew why his demeanour that was unfazed and really not up for fun changed over the summer break.

You did though, that’s because you were what changed. You had officially met Max at the Monaco Grand Prix a few months back. You were not new to the F1 world, having been to a few races in the past. You had a very strong love for the sport and went whenever it was possible. You had been invited by RedBull for your work in Tag Heuer- one of their biggest sponsors.

As a designer for one of the most expensive watch brands, you got paid very well, being able to live in the principality yourself, but not many people knew who you were, and you were more than okay with that. You lived yourself as you wanted, without the opinions you couldn’t care less about flooding your comment section.

“And this is Y/N from Tag Heuer. She’ll be in the garage this weekend.” Christian introduced you to Max. “Max, nice to meet you.” He shook your hand with a smile. You shook his hand with a greeting of your own. “Are you ready for this weekend?” You followed up, politely. “I hope so.” He laughed in his natural fashion. “It’s hard to overtake here, let’s hope you don’t have to.” You joked back and he looked almost happy you had an idea on what you were talking about. “You know in the chicane….”

That was the first time you met Max, you had small conversations throughout the weekend, but not enough to leave a lasting impression, or so you thought. Over the summer, Tag Heuer was creating a custom version of their Monaco watch for Max himself, and to the company, it only made sense that it was designed in Monaco, by the new head of design that lived in Monaco…you.

You walked into the back room of the store setting up for the appointment that was scheduled in a few moments. Nothing in you thought Max, who met people everyday would remember you, especially after his public breakup with Kelly and lack of a race winning car following Spain.

“Y/N?” You looked up from your iPad to see Max walking in. “It is indeed. How are you?” Max seemed to go through the formalities and the extent of designing the watch easily, but you could tell something else was on his mind. “Well, this isn’t too far off the original design, only a few colour changes. It should be ready in a few months time.” You said walking out of the office with him in tow. “I’m sure you know if you have any questions you can always call.” You ended your speech. Max nodded looking out the glass doors before looking back at you. 

“I do have one question.” He started and you nodded at him to continue. “Would you want to have lunch with me?” He asked softly, a blush rising to his cheeks. You smiled at the question, of course you would love to, but until you handed these papers off and your process was done, that was a very strict…

“Max, I would love too,” you started softly, and Max was smart enough to know where your tone of voice was heading, “but until this,” she waved the small iPad, “is out of my hands, you know I can’t.” You finished telling him and he looked at the iPad like he would another car on track.

“How long?” The look on your face said enough about your confusion. “Until this,” he pointed, “is out of your hands?” you but your lip to keep your chuckle at bay. “Maybe two, even three weeks.” You admitted. “I’ll wait then.” He promised. “Max, not to say I’m not flattered, but we’ve had a handful of conversations in the past, months ago even, when you had a girlfriend, is this even a smart thing for you to do?”

Max seemed mildly taken aback. “You may have a point,” he nodded his head, “but I enjoyed our conversations a lot, I didn’t feel like Max Verstappen the world champion, I just felt like Max.” He reasoned and it was one you couldn’t argue. With a slight chuckle you agreed, “Three weeks it is.”

You had actually managed to get to Switzerland and set the watch into work within two weeks, but when you told Max, he had been in Ibiza with Lando and Martin Garrix. You two talked as much as you could over the time zone, and by the time you finally met up for your date, it felt natural, like you had done it plenty of times before.

Over the course of the next few months you and Max spent whatever free time he had in his apartment. You never minded just sitting on his couch while he streamed with Redline or just winded down, you simply enjoyed each others company. At first Max didn’t know how to attend to you, he was used to having to go out almost every day, buy things, order other stuff, or just constantly be running in his relationships. After you had told Max you didn’t need anything from him other than himself he relaxed and you two were better than ever.

You hadn’t been to any more races since becoming Max’s girlfriend. You were in the process of designing a new watch, and that took a lot of your time.

Austin was the first race of the triple header Max had made you promise you would attend. You were happy you did as well. You had watched Max win anything for the first time since Spain. You wiped the small tears that went down your cheek as you watched from the pit-lane but more filled at every wipe.

You watched as he got out of his car and ran to his crew that congratulated him. You hadn’t seen Max smile this much at a race in a long time. Despite having interviews- that Max didn’t care for- he came running to you and with no thought in his head and kissed you, shielding most of the kiss with his water bottle. “I love you.” He whispered and you knew the tears were no longer from his win. “I love you.” You recited back to him and he kissed you again smiling as he pulled away before running off to his interview.

After making your way from the pit lane and into the garage Christian patted your shoulder, “I think you should be around more often.”

maxverstappen1 posted!

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maxverstapppen1 Perfect timing @/tagheuer

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forzamaxie33 oh he said fuck y'all for real

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Cocktails and Confessions (Doctor Who)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You don't mean to confess your love, but in your defence, you are about three and a half whiskies deep.

CW: fluff, cuteness, the Doctor is a little shit, consumption of alcohol

Doctor Who Tag List: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“I just- fucking- love you, Doctor,” you slur, swallowing thickly between the words. “Fuckinnn’ love you… Doctor.” 

The drink in your hand sloshes as you stumble in place. The Doctor rushes forward to steady you, pulling the drink out of your hand and depositing it onto the windowsill. 

“Doctor,” you say thoughtfully. “Dok-tor. Dok-tah. Hickory dickery Doctor Doo Little,” you break off into giggles as the Doctor pulls you towards the TARDIS doors. All he needs is to get you inside and into bed. Seriously, he left you alone for two hours and came back to find you completely off your face. Oh well, as long as you were having fun. That was the main thing. 

“There, there,” the Doctor cooed, displaying a surprising amount of strength to stop you from toppling into a topiary. You laughed, wrapping an arm around his back to steady yourself. 

Once you were inside, the Doctor let you tumble into your bed and helped you roll onto your back. He tutted and went about untying your shoelaces before yanking your shoes off with enough force to pull you halfway down the bed. This, of course, sent you into another fit of laughter and the Doctor bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing along with you. 

It was barely another ten minutes before you’d passed out completely, snoring in such a way that the Doctor was almost certain that you probably had sleep apnoea. 

It wasn’t until the morning, however, that you realised how badly you’d fucked up. Your head pounded, and your mouth felt like it had sawdust pieces stuck in it. You groaned loudly, throwing an arm over your eyes to shield yourself. Your room in the TARDIS did have a window, but the current source of irritating light was coming from the light fixture. 

“TARDIS, please,” you groaned out, rolling over and becoming very startled when your forehead whacked right into something warm and hard. You cracked an eye open, not sure you wanted to know what that was. 

“Good morning, love,” the Doctor said loudly. Far, far too loudly. The warm hard thing you’d given yourself a mild concussion over was, in fact, the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“Why are you in my bed,” you replied, deadpan. Your eye was struggling to keep itself open and so you buried your face in the squishy bit of his arm to hide yourself from the light beating down on you from above. God, even his arm was bony. “Did you stay here all night?” 

He was still dressed in his tux, though he’d kicked his shoes off at some point, leaving him in his socks. One of which had a hole right over the big toe. 

“Oh, you know,” the Doctor replies as though those three words would answer any and all questions. “Popped out once or twice, but for the most part, yes.” 

You grumble, pressing your face a little harder into his arm. The Doctor tuts and encourages you to sit up. You do as requested, though the entire process has you lamenting your warm blankets and squishy arm pillow. 

Once you’re upright and situated, the Doctor hands you a glass of water, a couple of panadol and a little white button that happens to be the same colour as the panadol tablets. 

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” the Doctor laughs, grabbing the button and twisting it in his fingers. “Probably don’t take that. Thought it was another aspirin, but maybe not.” 

You crack into a smile, downing the actual tablets and the glass of water in one go. The water eases your dry throat. 

“You were off it last night, eh,” the Doctor grinned, knocking his shoulder into yours. “Said some things.” 

You turn your head to look at him front on. You only have flashes of last night. Some dancing here, a few drinks there. You’re sure you chatted up a storm, but the look on the Doctor’s face tells you that you might have said some things you weren’t necessarily meaning too. 

“Oh?” You reply, temples throbbing with your hangover. 

“Oh,” the Doctor echoes teasingly. “Oh indeed. You said some things I really rather think you wished you didn’t- because now, I get to hold it over you as long as I like. You can’t remember, can you?”

He was right, as usual. 

“Oh God,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I say?” 

Try as you might, you’re finding it difficult to remember much other than a windowsill and a pretty bush. Damnit, that does not help you.

 

“You,” the Doctor all but giggles, “my very hungover, very brilliant friend- told me you loved me.” 

You fucking what? Oh, dear God. This was… decidedly not good. The Doctor did not seem to agree with you on that, however, if the look of sheer unadulterated joy made you think maybe you didn’t need to be too stressed about it all. 

“Did I just?” You asked, dropping your head onto him softly. You sigh with relief as the pounding in your head starts to dissipate. Not by much, mind you, but just by a little. 

“You did.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering just what’s going on in that very vast, very full brain of his. 

“And… you?” You trail off quietly, fidgeting with the glass.

“Oh, feel the same, of course. I love you. I’ve always loved you, I think. Not really something I had to question, was it?” The Doctor takes the glass and puts it on the side table. He reaches back over to grasp your hand in his. “Why else do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

You arch a brow, responding with a statement about how you can handle yourself. Of course, the Doctor grins and agrees that yes, that too is one of the reasons why he’s kept you along all this time.

“If my head didn’t feel like it was about to explode with the force of a thousand suns, I would be shouting and screeching with joy right now,” you say with a vague whimper, cradling your head in your hands. The Doctor tuts comfortingly, manoeuvring to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Oh, I know. Come now,” he says softly, helping you back to lie down again. “Get some rest. When you wake up there’s something I want you to see.” 

You’re not entirely sure what that means, but you don’t complain when your head hits the pillows. You have years and years to explore this new revelation, and you can’t wait for those years and years to start. 

But for now? 

Right now it was time for a nap.

[jayden-killer]

can you write realistic miguel x a civilian male! reader? like how would he react when other spider people find out that he's with a guy? would he deny and try to avoid his boyfriend in front of people? what would be his thought process dating another man? how do you think they'd end up together? (I have a lot of questions haha)

It's my first time writing a male!reader and I'm scared I messed up the request😩😭I still hope you will like it, I realllyyy tried my best!🙏

Reminder that requests are open at the top of my profile!

Miguel with a civilian male!reader.

•You and Miguel both met when he worked at Alchemax. You were both colleagues. Of course, you didn't know he was Spider-man at all, you discovered it by yourself: his strange disappearing, his not-so-normal behaviour...

•And that's why one night, in a bar, sharing a beer, you said all drunk: "I know you're Spider-man, Miguel." He paused, then widened his eyes and laughed. Taking a big sip of his beer, he said: "Now you gotta keep the secret, huh?"

•But that's not the only secret you two shared. Two more beers and then you found yourself kissing in the bathroom of the bar, Miguel's hands on your waist and tongue down your throat. So, you discovered you weren't just colleagues lmaooo.

•Dates went well, incredibly well. Miguel was happy for once: he finally had to be happy, and he wasn't going to ruin another good thing in his life. He wasn't even going to hide his relationship with you. Hell, why would he?!

•He doesn't have problems dating another man. Gender laws to him are not a problem. If a person makes him happy and likes him for what he is, then he'll fall, slowly but hard.

•Miguel proudly has a photo with you in his lab, in the Spider-Society HQ. There's you, hugging him from behind, while he has his hands on yours, making you jump on his back, all happy. Whenever a Spider enters his lab, and notices the photo, he wouldn't care. Nope. Who cares what the Spiders think of him? He's happy, and that's okay with it.

•if there are any homophobic Spiders in the Society, he's going to take care of it personally. Spoiler: it won't go too well.

•He enjoys cuddling and holding hands BUT only in private. He has a high reputation, and doesn't want to be seen as cuddly and vulnerable by all the members of the Society. Though, doesn't mean he won't spoil you etc.

•He loves cooking for you, doing your laundry, and cleaning because I think his love language is acts of service.

•But, if you leave a kiss anywhere on his face In public, he'll go R E D.

"Conejito, tengo algo por ti."

Your eyes moved from the newspapers to Miguel's soft smile. What could it be? Wait...why he has his hands behind his back?

He removed his hands from his back to show a bouquet of colourful flowers, and that's when you found yourself by him, taking the gift and sniffing it. It smelled like heaven.

"What...? W-Why this? It's not our anniversary, is it?!" You panicked a bit. He chuckled, shaking his head and taking one of your hands. "No que no lo es, amor. I only wanted to make you a little gift." To Miguel, your smile was enough to be the most beautiful gift ever given.

He placed a kiss on your lips, titling his head so you could intensify it. You thought about how Miguel changed these months with you: he looked happier, healthier...

"You’re the best, Miguel."

"Because you bring out the best of me."

[gay-dorito-dust]

bro a ken x reader where the reader moves to barbieland but she’s got tattoos and he’s got no clue what they are …

The ending to this is absolute arse. Idk what to do.

‘What’s this?’ Ken asked as he gestured to the tattoos you had littered here and there before even more questions followed after. ‘Can they come off? Did someone draw on you like Weird Barbie? If so was it with permanent marker?’ Ken then proceeded to smile, puffing his chest out like a proud bird, ‘I learnt that big word all by myself.’

You chuckled, now realising that ever since you came to BarbieLand there wasn’t a single person in sight who was even remotely as tatted up as you were, and so all of Ken’s random inquiries concerning them made all the more sense. ‘These are called tattoos and no they can’t come off, and I guess you could say that someone ‘drew on me’ but not with a permanent marker pen, but instead a piece of equipment that some might consider a painful process.’ You shrugged. ‘Though that depends on the pain tolerance and the placement of the tattoo.’ The look on Ken’s face was borderline hysterical to you with how wide his eyes became as they trailed over your most recent tattoo as though it’ll jump out and bite him.

‘Did you say painful? Like someone pinching your skin type of painful?’ Ken asked.

‘Hmmm. Think more like being stung a thousand times when in the midst of the outlining of the tattoo, only to then feel like your being scratched repeatedly and all over by a stray cat when they start the shading and or colouring process.’ You told him.

‘So you’re meaning to tell me that you were being hurt!’ Ken cried, retracting his hand away from you as though he was going to cause you more harm, which was something he doesn’t want to have happen. ‘Why would you or anyone ever want to go through that horrible process?!’ He said, voice muffled with his hands clasped over his mouth. You should’ve probably known that Ken would’ve reacted like this but the damage was already done, and yet you couldn’t help but find it sweet when he exemplified concern over your well-being, despite the fact that it was over something as briefly painful as a tattoo.

‘Beauty is pain as they say,’ you began, ‘but I found that once you get your first tattoo, you’ll soon enough want more to add to the collection. Think of it this way, we use tattoos as a way of self expression, some of them can be of something meaningful or something fun and cartoonish and hold no meaning at all other then it looked cool at the time. But I think they quite cool, don’t you Ken?’ The blonde then removed his hands from his mouth, moving himself closer to you as to get a better look at your tattoos in general, just as a smile appeared on his face. ‘They’re so cool.’ He admitted but it was clear he was still a little conflicted about the pain you put yourself through for a tattoo. ‘But they still sound a little frightening.’ He admitted to you with a weak chuckle and you couldn’t do anything but understand and sympathise where he was coming from.

‘Yeah, they can be frightening at first but I promise you Ken, I wasn’t in that much pain for very long, besides I was the one who wanted it done, the tattoo artists were just doing their job.’ You reassured him as you felt his fingers gingerly trace the tattoo, taking in every last detail as he looked at it with a new found perspective. Your tattoos are beautiful to Ken and he’d show appreciation for each and every one by tracing his fingers over it, almost as though he’d ruin the artistry that went into them if he went any harder. He found tattoos fascinating but would probably never get one himself and even if he did, he hoped that this tattoo artist that you talk about could give him a horse portrait, or at least something related to horses at the very least. That would be cool.

[portgasdwrld]

📞Wait a minute while I make you mine [part.3]

Featuring : Ace x fem!reader

Warning: suggestive, NSFW content mentioned, drama🤭

Part.4

Note: I love y’all

3. Love blurs

-Whats on your mind Ace ?

Enya asked the infamous Fire Fist as he took a sip of the beer he just got handed by the bartender. His eyes seemingly lost in a trail of thoughts which was somewhat unlike him. He looked at his new friend who was curiously sipping on a blue tinted cocktail.

The raven haired girl pushed her long hair behind her shoulders as she waved her hand in front of him.

-Sorry, was just thinking of stupid things

-Does the stupid thing link up to the girl we saw earlier?

She questioned him with a teasing smirk along with a shoulder nudge. His eyes locked with hers as he flashed a smug grin, connecting his lips again with his beer.

-Maybe? But it wouldn’t be too polite to think of another girl right now, wouldn’t it be?

He retorted while leaning slightly closer to the women next to him. Her eyes trailed on his body and his lips, before she looked away while rolling her eyes.

-Oh, give me a break Ace. Why aren’t you making a move on her already?

-Its complicated, alright? She isn’t so easy to figure out.

-She seems pretty easy to figure out though, you’re just a blind man like most.

-Huh??

He expressed with confusion with a cocked eyebrow.

-If you are only unsure about her feelings towards you, go for it and ask her, because otherwise shes attracted to you for sure.

She continued with an obvious tone that made Ace scoff. It wasn’t that simple. He knew that, but how can he easily admit to himself or to anyone, that bearing being rejected was unthinkable for him. It was probably an ego thing, but deep down his relation with love in general was blurry.

He loved your fun personality and the way you carry yourself. He thought you were the prettiest women alive and probably the one for him in this sea filled with thousands of other faces. It was simply hard for him to be honest with you. You that seemed to have life somewhat figured out and laughed like there was nothing to worry about in the future. He felt so distant but close to you, yearning to get to know you beyond the vibe that you purposely give off. Were you weak like him at times too? He wanted to know but if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, he knew your friendship will take a hit too.

-I will see about that

He replied with a nonchalant tone to hide his inner dilemma that didn’t totally go unnoticed by Enya. It was clear he hoped to close the conversation with this vague statement, but she had something else in mind.

She scouts closer to him, leaning her upper body against his tan arm. Breast brushing his bicep as his nose filled with her perfume. Her fingernails resting on his right pecks as her warm breath hit his neck. Her lips closing up the distance with his ear after she left a kiss on his neck.

-Then what baby? Gonna fuck me while you think of her, use me to make her jealous until you figure out your feelings, make me cum while you whisper her name under your breath, mmmh?

She cooed before leaning back and watch the stain on his neck left by her red lipstick. She smirked before grabbing her blue drink, still holding Aces surprised but lustful gaze. She wrapped her lips around the straw while tilting her head slightly to the side with a devious smile.

His lips parted to say something, before a familiar voice left him even more speechless.

-I would like a Mojito, please~

This familiar voice that made him feel butterfly in his stomach, that voice that was suffocating his thoughts with feelings he couldn’t process. You were standing just next to him, in a short and revealing dress, a colour complimenting your skin tone perfectly, with simple jewelries and hair partially up.

Your eyes found his, but you had witnessed the whole scene. He seemed to realize as his pupils shift nervously while his body is turning completely in your direction. You stare at him up and down with a cold expression.

You grabbed your cocktail and left with a last look filled with disappointment and maybe hurt? But Ace couldn’t quit understand the situation. His body froze as he watched you walk away, joining Livia and the other member of the crew on a table not too far.

-Go after her.

He heard from Enya, a sentence delivered with a bored tone. He looked over his shoulder to stare at her.

-What? Why wo-

-Ace if you don’t fucking do this, you will ruin everything. So go after her and put your pride aside, omg.

She concluded while pushing his shoulder with a mischievous smile that brought more confusion to him than anything else. Ace stood up and looked nervously back to the table. He saw you laugh with Marco, while waving your hand at Livia who was leaving.

-Don’t forget to thank me later~

She somewhat yelled at him, while Ace was building his confidence up to appear as if nothing happened.

Well nothing happened, anyway.

He didn’t owe you to not flirt or have sex with another women. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.

Ace found a place next to Izou who shot him a “you fucked up man” stare.

-What are y’all eating?

He tried to ask casually avoiding the shift of atmosphere as he sat down across from you. You didn’t even acknowledge him and kept talking with Marco.

-Nothing for you! If you want food, go order yours, because we won’t have any left for us with your big stomach, Thatch joked with a laugh as he wrapped his arm around his younger brother neck.

Ace chuckled as he stole a fry from the cook’s plate, earning him a quick hit from him on his arm. He laughed even more, forgetting about the small incident, before Vista decided to throw a teasing comments, definitely not reading the room.

-I saw you were already flirting with ladies, Ace! You bastard, you’re always up someone skirt when we land somewhere!

He laughed while more commanders joined him , adding that he was popular with the girls with his good look. The fire user uncomfortably shifted on his chair as he let an awkward chuckle. His eyes naturally searched for yours, but you were avoiding him once again. Your expression was never more serious than right now, as you simply reached for a shrimp. You commented that they tasted great at Izou who nodded agreeing.

He noticed how Haruta nudged Vista hinting him to shut up as he pointed at you with his eyes. Vista’s face dropped as he understood the situation and tried to make it better, but failed miserably..

-But! We know Ace is a real man at heart..A gentleman who knows how to take care of a women’s he-

-What do y’all think about the fries? I feel like it could use some more seasoning.

Marco cut him off as the table became awkwardly silence with confused look thrown at each other. Ace sighed happy that the first division commander cut him off.

He needed to talk to you, it was the conclusion he came to. This situation between you and him couldn’t continue like that. Lucky him, you decided to stood up, saying that you wanted more of the shrimps. His eyes followed you, but you left the place under his concerned gaze.

He followed you ignoring how his fellow commanders cheered him on. He had a quick run outside the place and saw you outside sat on a long chair, removing your heels.

The early night was set, the moon light glittering over your skin. The smooth breeze brushing hour hair. You were backfacing him. He walked closer to you and was shocked to hear a muffled sound that sounded like you were crying. His heart dropped, making him stop walking.

-What do you want Ace?

You asked in a weak voice, not verifying if it was truly him who was there.

-I..I wanted to speak to you

He let out in an almost silent whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. He didn’t know why, but he felt so disappointed in himself. Was he the reason why you were crying? He made the person he likes tear up? His insecurities flowing through his veins, Ace found himself naturally taking a step back. Was he taking a step back from you, or from the evident thoughts of risking to lose love in another way once again?

-Ace?

You called out his name while your head titled slightly up, staring at the stars that you spend so much time studying. He loved how smart and passionated you are about astronomy. He hummed as an answer, eyes on your figure.

-How do you feel about me?

[noforkingclue]

The Attic (dark!Thomas Shelby x reader)

Summary: you were told to avoid the attic because it was dangerous. But what happens when you finally stop resisting the pull towards it and ignore the warnings of your husband?

Author's Note: This was written for @zablife 2K celebration! I chose to write something for the attic! I made references to some of my other reader inserts but don't worry, you don't have to have read them to understand this fic.

(alternative title- Thomas Shelby and the Multi-Verse of Fucking Up You Life)

Hope you like the fic :)

Warnings: dark fic, reference forced married, murder

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshitisfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You loved the colour of Tommy’s eyes. So blue they reminded you of the sky on a warm summer’s day. You frequently found yourself getting lost in them as the two of you spent a blissful time in Paris.

Ah, Paris.

It was such a wonderful honeymoon but, as all good things, it came to an end far too quickly. Soon you found yourself back in Arrow House. Grand, beautiful, hauntingly lonely Arrow House. You knew that there were servants. Your bed was always made in the morning, food always hot and waiting for you, yet you never saw them.  You heard the sounds of people moving around and yet whenever you entered a room you never saw them. Tommy said that his family lived with him, he had such a large house that it made sense. However, you had yet to meet any of them. Hushed whispers, the sound of rustling clothes, hurriedly retreating footsteps was the most you ever got to see of them.

You were allowed free rein of the house. After all, it was your home now as well. However, the only room you weren’t allowed in was the attic. When you questioned why Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled you against him and said,

“Floor boards aren’t stable, love. In the process of getting them fixed but I don’t want you to fall through. So just stay away from there alright?”

“Alright Tommy.”

“Good girl.”

And with a soft kiss pressed against your forehead the deal was done.

At least for now.

*

Despite your faith in your husband, part of you suspected he was lying. There were nights were you laid awake looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes you heard a creek, the sound of a footstep and you’d sit bolt upright in bed. It was strange, whenever this happen Tommy always seemed to be awake. A comforting arm was wrapped around you ready to pull you back down to his comforting embrace. Tommy would mutter something about a nightmare and for you to get back to sleep and somehow you always found yourself drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Then there was the sleep paralysis. You had never experienced it before you had moved into Arrow House. Now it had become a semi regular occurrence. The shadowy figure that seemed to melt out of the wall and slowly approach you and your husband. However, it never seemed that interested in you. The focus of the creature was purely on Tommy and you could feel the hatred seep from it. It was enough to peel the wallpaper from the wall, crack the wood in the headboard and rot the floorboards. When you woke up everything was back to normal and Tommy hadn’t seen a thing.

And yet you found yourself drawn to the attic. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough you could hear the hushed whispers high above your head. You long to be a part of them. To be accepted into the Shelby family.

Which was how you found yourself at the foot of the staircase.

You knew where it lead even though it was your first time seeing it and it terrified you. The staircase was shrouded in darkness but your goal was lit up. White light shone through the crack under the attic door, lighting your way into the knowledge you so desperately craved. You knew that you shouldn’t climb it. It wasn’t safe, you could fall and injure yourself. And yet you were pulled towards it like a magnet. You were helpless as you were dragged into the inky darkness which sealed you fate.

At first you couldn’t understand why Tommy was so adamant that you avoided the attic. Sure it was bit dusty and could do with a lick of paint but the floor looked sturdy enough. You ventured in, your anxiety disappearing with each step until you were in the middle of the room. You breathed in a deeply and immediately regretted it as a cloud of dust was drawn into your nose and triggered your allergies. You coughed and spluttered and then you heard it.

A soft voice.

Soft familiar and yet so strange.

A voice you thought you had heard a thousand times before and yet not at all.

‘Leave.’

Then another.

‘Run.’

And another.

‘Escape.’

And then they all came at once. Like a flock of angry, blood thirsty birds. Like a wave determined to drag you under and drown you.

‘Leave this place.’

‘Don’t come back.’

‘He’ll kill you.’

‘He’ll destroy you.’

‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’

That word. Repeated over and over and over again until it didn’t sound like a word at all. You crouched to the ground, hands covering your face, as hot tears pour down your face. You should’ve listened to Tommy. You never should’ve come here.

‘You never should’ve come to Arrow House. Leave. Run. While you still can.’

It was the longest one of these voices had ever spoken to you. You peaked through your fingers and wished that you hadn’t. A figure stood in front of you. Swirling dark mist coiled around it and other things moved in the background. The voices were now just a hushed whisper but they seemed to dominate your senses.

“W… what are you?” you asked shakily

‘A warning of what will be if you don’t run.’

“Run? From who? The Shelby’s?”

‘Tommy.’

“He’s my husband. I love him.”

This caused the mist to swirl angrily and the figure melted away. Another appeared in view. Its face was a dark swirl but its body was still recognisable. It wore a white blouse, well, a blouse that was once white. Red seeped into the fabric and it leant closer.

‘He said he loved me,’ it said, ‘until he tore my throat out.’

‘He said he loved me until he took away my son from his safe life.’

‘He said he loved me until he forced me to marry him.’

‘He said he love me until he killed my Oliver.’

‘He’s a murderer.’/‘Murderer.’/‘Murderer.’

“No,” you closed your eyes tightly, “No. I know him. We’re married.”

‘So were we.’

A thousands voices all at once. They sounded like leaves rustling in a storm. Like millions of pages being rapidly turned all at once. You gripped your hair in your hands and shook your head.

“This isn’t real,” you said, “You’re not real. It’s just a hallucination brought on by too little sleep.”

‘We are real.’

‘Because you are real.’

“That doesn’t make any sense. What are you?”

‘Incorrect question.’

‘Stupid question.’

‘They always ask that question.’

‘Always.’ / ’Always.’ / ’Always.’

‘Doesn’t make it stupid.’

‘An insult to them-‘

‘-is an insult to us.’

“What does that mean?”

The creatures seemed amused at your question. They swirled closer around you, a suffocating mass of something you weren’t sure was real or not. They dominated your senses and curled around your neck as they whispered,

‘You know.’

‘Because we know.’

‘You are we-‘

‘-and we are you.’

“Wh…what?”

‘Shouldn’t stutter.’

‘She’s confused.’

‘We all were when we were her.’

‘We are her.’

‘You know what I mean.’

You shook your head and tangled your fingers in your hair. You pulled your legs up to your chest and pressed your forehead against your knees.

“This isn’t real.”

‘It is.’

‘Run.’/’Stay.’/’Run.’/’Stay.’

“This is all in my head. All in my head. All in my head.”

‘Stay we’ll die again.’

‘Run we’ll die again.’

“Maybe it’ll be different this time. He loves me.”

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘And those we cared about.’

‘My parents.’

‘My sibling.’

‘My Oliver.’

“Why should I believe you?”

‘Because we’re you-‘

‘-and you’re us.’

‘We’re the same.’

‘You should kill him’

‘Kill him.’/’Kill him.’/’Kill him.’

‘I tried to kill him.’

This caused the mist to swirl around violently.

‘But you failed.’

‘We failed.’

‘You failed.’

‘He manipulated you.’

‘Us.’

You shook your head before standing up on shaking legs. You swallowed thickly and turned around and tried to walk towards the door. However, the mist blocked your escape. You didn’t know if you could walk through it or what would happen if you did.

‘Kill him.’

‘Kill him and be free.’

‘Kill him before he kills us.’

“He won’t kill us,” you shook your head and gritted your teeth, “me. He’s my husband. He loves me.”

‘And me.’/’And me.’/’And me.’

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘All of us.’

‘You know we’re telling the truth.’

‘Because you are us-‘

‘-and we’

You closed your eyes and shook your head violently. The attic creaked around you and your eyes flew open at the unnatural sound. Darkness surrounded you. Suffocating inky darkness that made it impossible to breath. You took half a step forward and the voices all spoke at once again,

‘You know what you need to do. Kill him and be free of him. Be free of this family. Free us. End the cycle. Kill Thomas-‘

“Love? Are you alright?”

You let out a cry of relief as Tommy almost seemed to glide through the darkness. You flung yourself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. Tommy rubbed comforting circles against your back as you continued to cry. You could hear the whispers of the voices in the background and it took you a moment to realise that Tommy had spoken.

“I… I…”

“Shh it’s ok,” Tommy pressed a kiss on top of your head, “it’s ok. It’s just your sleepwalking.”

“I’ve never sleepwalked before.”

“Yes you have,” Tommy pressed his cheek against yours, “yes you have. I was afraid this was going to happen. The doctor did say that your memory was going to be effected.”

“Doctor?” you pulled away, “we’ve never been to a doctor.”

‘We told you.’

‘He’s manipulating you.’

‘Run.’

‘Kill.’

“Shut up!” you hissed

“I haven’t said anything.” Said Tommy

“Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.” You hissed

“You’re hearing voices.”

“Yes. No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Love,” Tommy’s hand appeared on your shoulder, “You need help.”

‘You need to get away.’

‘Kill.’/’Kill.’/’Kill.’

“Get away from me!” you shrieked

You took several steps back, eyes wide as you looked at your husband. The man you loved so deeply that it hurt but now… now you didn’t recognise him. His eyes that once reminded you of summer had changed. Winter had taken over. Ice filled your veins and you felt like you were sinking into an icy lake, your escaped blocked off by the frozen top.

“Who are you?” you asked

“You know who I am.” Thomas took a step towards you, “I’m your husband.”

“No.”

“Love, you’re not well. The lack of sleep. The voices.”

“I know my own mind.”

“Love-“

“Stop calling me that!”

You took another stepped back and let out a cry of shock. Your foot didn’t land on the floor. Instead it swung back into open air and you felt your body drop back. Was this really how it was going to end? An argument and falling through the rotten floorboards you were warned about.

But as suddenly as you were falling, you were saved. Tommy had grabbed your hand and was holding you. You looked down and swallowed thickly at the drop below. When you looked back at Tommy you were horrified to see that winter hadn’t thawed.

“Tommy,” you said, “Please.”

“Shame,” he said, “so much work yet again wasted.”

As he let you go.

[yizhou-time]

MY TREASURE [PREVIEW]

MASTERLIST | RELEASE DATE: TBA

Synopsis: “The Princess is lost! Please return her to Scaleswind upon finding her. A reward is in place for those that do.” The description on here matched you perfectly too. ‘How did you get to a forest so far away from Scaleswind?’ They thought. Meanwhile heaps of questions filled your brain. ‘How did you end up on this ship, most likely Aurora? Why are in infamous Pirate Kings, as they call themselves, helping you? Most of all, who is this attractive man crouched in front of you?’

"You knew? You knew and you didn't tell me?" You push Hongjoong's hand off your shoulder and look at the rest of his crew. "Did you all know?" You exclaim loudly. Silence follows and your take a step back from them.

Yunho steps forward, by the look on his face you can tell he's about to offer some stupid explanation to try and make you feel better but when he goes to open his mouth you turn around. He ignores your dismissal and speaks regardless. "When we found you that day we decided to go to the closest town to get any supplies we would need while we cared for you, someone was handing out posters and you know-"

"No, I don't actually!" You shout, slightly turning you head to glare at the group.

"Please don't cry..." Seonghwa quietly asks, taken back by your outburst, however it falls on deaf ears as tears begin to silently fall, a technique you had mastered after spending nights in your room crying after large banquets and reunions.

He takes careful steps forward, your eyes follow his movements and once he's registered that you've acknowledged him he takes it as his chance to step in front of you.

Your hurt look makes his heart wrench and he almost verbally winces upon fully seeing it. "You..." You raise your hand and place a light punch on his shoulder. "Just when I though I found someone special it turns out you were using me as a bargaining chip," you continue to hit him "a pawn to get what you want."

Seonghwa takes each hit quietly, he knows he deserves it, he deserves much more than just these punches actually and he's well aware.

"It's not like that." He tries to reason.

"It was." You argue.

"Not anymore." He grabs your fist. "It's not like that anymore, I promise."

"Seonghwa, you're going to hand me over for a large some of money, what type of person does that?" You finally look at him in the eye and he shakes his head firmly. "I heard you all not even 10 minutes ago."

His face drains of colour, his breathing slows and he processes what you just said. He carefully lets go of your hand and places both on his on your shoulders, he leans down slightly to come face to face with you. Closer than you’ve been before.

“Yes, it was my idea. Yes, we were going to go through with it. No, some of us don’t want to anymore.” He tries to convince you.

You shake him off and step back. “I could turn you all in and have you beheaded in mere minutes and this is what I get?” You frown.

Silence fills the ship and you all just stare at each other for a moment, some of the other shipmates stop what they’re doing and stare too.

You shake your head and find your way back to your sleeping quarters.

“Captain, we told you this was a bad idea.” San is quick to argue.

In response he takes his hat off and looks to the floor.

“And you just let it happen.” Yeosang adds in.

“If you knew we were all building some sort of relationship with her, you included, you should have dropped it.” Jongho calmly speak for the team. “Especially you.” He states, gesturing to Seonghwa, before turning to leave.

Yeosang follows suit, utterly disappointed in people he considered family.

“You guys don’t understand. You understand nothing.” Hongjoong states, his pride getting in the way of admitting his wrong doings.

Mingi scoffs, leaning on the side of the ship, and the Captain glares at him harshly. “What?” He says informally, bringing Yeosang and Jongho’s attention back to the situation.

“You said when she came that we could do what we wanted with her, we wanted her here, and you said she should stay for her own safety. She opened up to us for God sake!” He shouts.

Hongjoong comes face to face with him. “Oh because you’re so perfect? Thinking about the team, are you? No you’re fighting in her corner, again!”

“She told us why she was in that forest in that day and you want to throw her back out there? You’re sick!” He matches his energy almost immediately.

His Captain drops his hat on the floor. “You don’t understand, we need the-”

Mingi becomes angrier at the reasoning. “We clearly don’t! You’re greedy! We can’t have one thing without you ruining it-”

Wooyoung cuts him off. “Just because you can’t hold a friendship, bare in mind a relationship, why should we suffer because of your shortcomings?”

Hongjoong halts as him comment and San quickly moves in to pick up his hat and hold him back.

The boys begin arguing between themselves, trying to get their leader to help you but the arguing continues. San telling people to just follow what he says, Wooyoung and Yunho, the people who found you, arguing to help you, Mingi firmly stating he’ll go if you do, Jongho telling people to be reasonable and Yeosang shouting for people to lower their voices. Seonghwa, the one who started all this, says nothing and is frozen in place. The shouting gets louder and louder and louder and Wooyoung’s comment rings in Hongjoong’s head.

“She’s breaking this team apart, we need the money, she has to go, that’s it! That’s final!” With that everything quiets down once more and he sighs, calming himself. “Seonghwa is the one who said we should do this, I didn’t plan for you to become friends, you don’t need friends in this world.”

“No, you don’t need friends.” Yeosang remarks.

“You all knew, you could have done something about it earlier.” He states.

Mingi rolls his eyes, “Ok, say we did, would you have called it off?”

Silence.

Nothing.

A look of betrayal comes across Mingi’s face, it’s a look Hongjoong wishes to never see again.

“Exactly. We didn’t tell her because we wanted to savour every moment with her.” He finishes.

Seonghwa looks at everyone, spending a few seconds to really take in how they feel just by looking at their face, something you had taught him when telling him about your time during ballroom dance classes, and he takes a few moments to breathe after looking at all of them.

Mingi is completely heartbroken, you didn’t have to look at him to know because his voice gave it away. San just wants everyone to calm down, he’s hurting and Seonghwa can’t pinpoint why. Yunho is clearly perplexed after being lied to, only noticing because Mingi pointed it out. Jongho is tired, of the shouting, being up all night, he just wants to be comforted, if you were here you would have given it to him in a heartbeat. Wooyoung is obviously angry, how could Hongjoong do this to you after how lovely you’ve been to them. Yeosang is confused, how could this happen and how could he let it go on for this long.

Hongjoong is… Seonghwa concludes he doesn’t know how he feels. He concludes that he doesn’t care how he is. He tried to call this all off so many times after suggesting it but his best friend thought they should do it regardless, so he did it out of greed that he no longer had, and that hurts him. A friend would listen to their best friend and let them be happy, and although he’s thankful Hongjoong is putting the team above everything else Seonghwa believes that you should come above everything else.

He thinks back to how you looked earlier. Angry, upset, distraught. Those are feelings he never wants you to feel. He never wants to see that look on your face ever again.

“I love her.” He states, drawing the attention of most people on the ship.

“I love her. This is my fault, I have to fix it.” He tells himself out loud.

"No shit." Yeosang's snide remark doesn't deter him however nor did the eye roll that followed.

Seonghwa quickly slips off the cotton jacket that had been keeping him some what warm while on the deck as quickly as he can and walks in the direction you left.

On the way he pushes the jacket into Hongjoong's hands as he leaves. They all watch him go, determined. He shoots down the stairs as fast as he can, trying to catch you before you fall asleep.

Hongjoong stands still, unsure of what to do with himself.

"Let us know when you're ready to officially leave and we'll get the map to Scaleswind to Yunho, Yeosang just has to figure out where we are." Jongho quietly states, lightly tapping Yeosang with the back of his hand to make him leave with him.

The pair go back to the storage room, shoulders hunched and looking completely dejected. Hurt, sad, lonely, but they understand where he’s coming from and that’s what hurts the most.

Mingi moves his gaze away from the them and squints his eyes at the silent Captain, his brows frowning in the process. He stands up straigther, trying to silently to intimidate him with his size in order to make him backdown although it was unrealistic. Yunho puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him towards the quarter deck. "Stay with me while I'm behind the wheel, hm?" He tries to soothe his friend.

"I can’t." Hongjoong hears him mumble, but he still goes with him regardless.

San hands his hat back to him and slowly strokes his arm. They meet eyes and he realises he's not the only one hurting.

"Are you happy with your decision?" He whispers.

"I don't know." It stuns him, the all knowing leader, the one they all looked up to and aspired to be didn't know how he was feeling. Hongjoong who ruled with an iron fist was unsure of how he felt and for the first time in his life San doubted him.

Wooyoung sarcastically laughs, obviously hearing him. "All this and you don't even know. Wow, alright." He scratches his brow, unable to look at him.

The older one of the two offers him a sympathetic smile before turning to face his bunkmate. "Let's just go, we can make a list of supplies we'll need from Scaleswind." Reluctantly Wooyoung follows him to leave the deck.

Hongjoong looks down at the soft jacket in his hand and then down to the cuff of his sleeve. A white patch had been carefully sewn on top of a rip that had been there for a few months, causing him to barely wear his undercoat as to not rip it anymore resulting in him feeling colder than usual. That was all until you had sewn it back together for him in your own time after finding a small sewing kit hidden in a barrel on the ship, as a small way to repay him for letting you stay and keeping you away from home.

It had been so carefully hand sewn, it reminded him of a mothers stitch and it was something he had yearned for a while. As did your cooking, it was warm and he was always full. As did your determination to keep Aurora clean, it gave the crew one less job to focus on. As did your attentiveness when it came to the boys, making sure San wiped every speck of dried blood off of his body, bringing Yunho food and water while he spent nights behind the wheel, telling Jongho all about books you've read and promising to give him them when it's safer for you to go back.

"Call it off." He whispers.

The pair barely catch it and turn around to face him.

"We set up a meet spot to trade, call off the plan on our end and we can rework it." He states, looking them dead in the eye.

"What?" They question, confused.

"We can use her as bait, draw them in, get the reward and she can come with us again, it never said we had to give her back, just find her." He says much more confidently, much louder too as Yunho seems to catch what he says and tells Mingi.

San and Wooyoung smile at each other, elated.

"I'll tell Jongho not to bother and y-" Wooyoung starts.

"And I'll get those two and we can rework it all, as a team." San finishes.

"Yunho don't move, I’ll be back, wait for me!" Mingi shouts and Hongjoong sniffles a laugh at his determination.

Determination to keep you with them, keep you safe and Hongjoong realises that he may have that determination too. Maybe it was better to keep you around, it gave all of them something to look forward to.

Taglist (reply to join): @liniiiaa @marievllr-abg @hee0soo @lelaleleb @atinyreads @brielle-in-the-galaxy @starillusion13 @readerofallthingssmutty @not-everything-is-so-primitive @huachengsbestie01 @madnpan @giannadodson @mazeinthemiroh

[sharngapani]

What if we got married during the samudra manthan and we were both girls

haha just kidding.... unless... 😳👉👈

—

“Now then, let's get this Amrit distrib-” Mohini paused when she saw Lakshmi power-walking towards her.

“Wha-” there was a varmala around her neck before she could process what happened. But when she finally did, “Oh!”

Mohini handed off Amrit to the nearest being, put a varmala around Lakshmi’s neck and took back the Amrit so quickly that whoever had it couldn't even think about taking a sip.

“We’re married!” Mohini declared.

Everybody cheered for the newly wed couple. A few mournful ‘why couldn’t it have been me?’s could be heard among the crowd, who it was aimed at, however, was unclear.

“I never thought I’d see my father getting married.” Kama nearly shed a tear over the sight.

“Your what?”

He turned to see Vasanta gaping like a fish and realised his folly.

“My friend! I meant ‘my friend’! Since, you know, she’s an enchantress! We’re in the same line of work!” Kama tried his best to salvage the situation but to no avail. Both of them glanced over to the Asura side who seemed to have heard their conversation.

“Isn’t that Kamadev? Does anyone here know who his father is?” “I’ve heard it’s Vishnu!”

“Hmm, one of the Trimurti isn’t here. The guy who became the turtle. Where did he go?”

“Hey, wasn’t Lakshmi married to Vishnu? Why is she marrying Mohini now? Did he get cucked?”

—

The newly wed couple walked over to their friends, hand in hand. Saraswati hugged them both. “I am so happy to see you both together again. May you always stay by each others' side.”

“Hhr- ach-” Shiva tried and failed to speak, colour draining further from his already ashen face.

“He says 'congratulations!’ and so do I!” Parvati clarified, her hand still around her husband’s throat.

“I am sure you can remove your hand. The poison must have settled by now.”

Parvati looked sceptical of the idea but everybody’s encouraging looks were enough of a reassurance. She removed her hand to find his throat dyed blue, the poison frozen in place.

“Oh! The poison has turned your throat blue! Isn’t it the most beautiful colour, dear?” Mohini exclaimed, directing the question at her wife.

“Yes,” Lakshmi replied, absolutely not looking at said colour.

“You’re right. It is a very nice colour!” Parvati chimed in.

The compliment seemed to have improved Shiva’s mood a bit, bringing some colour back to his face.

“I hope you will not hurl the poison at our wedding,” Mohini whispered to Shiva, who opted to just shaking his head in reply.

“Congratulations but couldn't you have waited until the Amrit distribution?” asked Brahma, looking like every moment was aging him by a thousand years.

“No,” Lakshmi deadpanned.

Dhanvantari walked over to Lakshmi. “Congratulations on your marriage, sister! Though I didn't think you'd find a spouse right after being born.”

“Thank you! But this isn't my first time being born.”

“What.”

—

Mohini once again turned to address the crowd, who were starting to realise who she actually was. “Now now, boys! No need to start a fight. I am inviting you all to our wedding, where Amrit will be served during the feast!”

Everybody cheered louder than before, all suspicions completely forgotten.

“And to answer your question, my dearest asura, I am indeed cucking Maha Vishnu.”

“Did you hear that? She called me her dearest!”

[venomous-ragno]

Writing advice...

... About military things from a soldier

Pt. 2 / ?: Women and relationships in the military

You wanna write a story with a militaristic setting, like CoD or R6S? You wanna create a female OC, self insert or character, but you don't know where to start, if women are even allowed in the military?

Well, lucky for you or not I know what that feels like and I've also got the combat / real life experience to help ya out!

Feel free to hop in my askbox or dm's and ask questions. I'll gladly elaborate and do my best to answer in full and plenty.

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all! :)

Are women allowed in the military?

The answer seems obvious: Yes. Most militaries around the world do allow women to enlist. Some, however, do not allow women to join the special forces, such as the SAS, for example.

Certain branches report a higher number of female soldiers than others. The US army air force and sanitation in the German military are two examples I can think of.

Some countries do allow women to enlist but forbid them from partaking in "action", such as North Korea, Sweden, Norway, Bolivia and some more.

What about misogyny by male soldiers?

In my six years of active duty I've learnt that sexism rarely occurs, but when it does, it's straight forward and nasty. Most men don't care about your gender. They treat you like you're one of them, and oftentimes even forget about the fact that you're a woman. The few times I was talked down to for my gender was blatant and hateful though; but even then, some of these opinions didn't come from within the military, but from civilians. (Cue the old granpa who saw me travelling back home in uniform and just had to tell me that women belong in the kitchen, how in the good old days women were still women yadda yadda. Yeah, I had the same look about on my face like you now.)

Appearance is important!

As is in any military. I can't speak for them though, but in my experience, light and natural make up is allowed. Nail polish and lipstick are a hard no though, albeit the latter may be allowed for special occassions. If there's one thing my comrades have taught me it's that most men in the military got no clue about make up, so you'll probs get away with more than you'd think.

The exact rules however depend on your unit and what you do. Back when I was in sanitation I'd be working a pretty standard 9 to 5. Worked in the medbay and treated patients, kept the medical archive in order, pretty normal stuff. My superior allowed us to wear small ear studs. When I got deployed to another base I was almost lynched for wearing them. Really depends on the ones in charge.

As for hairstyles: Most units are fine with anything as long as your hair is up and out of your face. Now, we didn't have to use gel to keep stray hairs at bay. It wasn't that strict. Just don't use any flashy hair accessories and hair ties that match your hair colour. Oh, and your hair must be a) one colour and b) a naturally occuring one. The length doesn't matter as long as you're not Rapunzel. If your hairstyle is anything other than a pixie cut, you will have to wear a hair net under your combat helmet.

Do men and women stay in seperate dorms?

Seperate rooms? Yeah. Seperate dorms? Nope.

Sometimes you'd have couples who shared a dorm room. It's a whole process that your superior has to give his ok to, but I honestly wouldn't recommend it. Dorm rooms aren't exactly big. You need privacy? Well, that's too bad.

If you're lucky enough you get to have a room for yourself. Depending on what branch / base you're in, the rooms will be more or less furnished. Back when I worked at the ministry of foreign affairs, my room was pretty luxurious for milutary standards: TV, fridge, sofa, bed, desk w chair, a closet and a bathroom next door. That's definitely not the standard though. We usually had to buy and bring our own stuff, like blankets, fridge, decorations, whatever you'd need to make that cold room somewhat comfy. (Wifi is also not a given. Gotta get your own connection running.)

Flings, relationships, cheating spouses... How common is it really?

They do happen, though not as often as you'd think.

It's more common to hear rumors about who has smth going with who and these rumors can get BAD. As in reputation and career ruining bad. At that point there's gonna be an order from higher up to stop talking about these rumors and punishment can be quite strict. (Speaking of rumors...Hate to say it, but the more women a unit had, the worse talking behind others backs was.)

One thing that I always found particularly disgusting were relationships between higher ups and recruits. Yes, they happen. No, they're not allowed. These things are like open secrets. If found out and proven to exist, the superiors will be held accountable by military law. Outside of basic training it may be frowned upon if a superior were to enter any kind of relation with someone of lower rank, thought not outright punishable.

As for cheating... Well, I haven't enountered any cheating myself, nor heard of it (yet). Not saying that it doesn't happen, but at least over here in Germany it's rare. It's highly frowned upon and will open you up to rumors and... Not so nice treatment by comrades. Cheating on a spouse is punishable by military law. A soldier found guilty may be demoted in rank, suffer financial losses or even get dishonourably discharged.

[xpau-official]

Hihi, don't mind me popping in with another question. (If this count as a inquiry? Apologies if not-) But for the XPAU's sweaters designs, all of the characters, that is. How did you decide on the colours and details? Or well, the general designs for all of them

Hi! That counts as an inquiry, yes!

Designing the sweaters kind of came along as I drew them, though I did spend quite a bit of time planning out the words. There were lots of changes made throughout the whole process. Lots of research, lots of puns, lots of pictures.

You probably recognize that the designs somewhat match CPAU too! I tried keeping that clever simplicity so they can still be considered ugly but aren’t a pain to draw lol. Everyone is still from the CPAU timeline, hence the references. However, most of the designs were made on the spot without a ton of thought behind them.

Colour wise… Some people had colours planned, most didn’t. The sweaters were the easiest, but the rest like the pants? I just slapped random existing colours lmao colouring designs has never been my strong suit but I’m learning!

Of course, I kept everyone’s personalities in mind when making them. I tried to make them fit their character as best as I could while still making it silly, perhaps a little dumb! Many details have a bit of backstory to them (like you’ve seen with Dust). I definitely have more stories for everyone else!

Sorry for the ramble! I love talking about these little things haha

TLDR; No thoughts head empty only ugly chrimmas

i think ink’s sweater was designed in 15 seconds

[kitorin]

OUR SPRING

003. perfect

5:01 pm

"Fucking hell."

Normally, you'd have more shame, but given your current circumstances it was understandable for you to curse loudly in the middle of the hallway on your way home from the school library. All of this was so irritating, the rumours and all the attempted manipulation, both which, were from the exact same source; Kira Ryosuke.

It should be fine. That's what you've told yourself for a long time. But you've been corrected. Because rumour after rumour, it kept accumulating now it's consumed and become your school life, until your identity is once again established as one that only revolves around some guy who likes you.

"You better drop dead next time I see you."

"May I help you?" You pull yourself out of your livid trance, looking up from staring at your feet as you walk and realizing with horror that you say that right in front of someone else. What's even worse, is that you recognise who it was, possibly one of the worst people to unintentionally curse at. It's Chigiri Hyoma. Rising star of the jpop and jdrama industry, who also happens to be a member of one of your best friend's favourite band.

"I am so sorry. I swear it wasn't directed to you- A lot had been going on recently." You prayed, begging that he wasn't one of those celebrities who enjoyed tormenting regular people with their obsessive and toxic fanbases, or liked exploiting their fame to ruin others.

Despite being apprehensive of the social power he holds, Meguru was right every time he called Chigiri attractive. It was evident through photos, but they don't capture his beauty fully. There wasn't a blemish on his pale skin, his tied up hair seemed perfect, it was obvious people would die for his skin and hair care routine. Long eyelashes compliment soft features and his rose coloured eyes clouded with what seemed like concern.

Even though his features weren't inhumanely perfect or complied to the beauty standard to a T, everything just synergises together, curating his natural charm.

Visually, he embodies perfection.

"Ah I see. I understand." Just when you thought he couldn't look any better he smiles, teeth perfectly white and shiny, which were adorned with dimples. It made sense why he was an actor and idol, he pulls off school uniform and even makes it look fashionable, heck his school photo probably came out gorgeous too. "So, what happened?"

You were too busy admiring his visuals to realize you were going to reveal your current struggles to a total stranger. "Well it's just- wait, I don't even know you?"

"Neither do I. All the more better to open up to, no?"

He's kind of weird. No wonder why Meguru loves him so much.

Instead of addressing and responding to his statement, you take advantage of this opportunity, since he's always surrounded by fans. "Then, how do you deal with rumours? You're apart of that band egoism, right? You'd know a lot about this"

"Well. I'm not apart of the PR team, so I don't know the full details. But rumours don't have some sort of secret formula or trick to getting rid of them. Hence why most celebrities have a PR team."

If only you had one too.

"Are you the one everyone assumes is dating Kira? I'm guessing you're referring to all the gossip related to you too." Chigiri continues, seeming genuinely curious regarding your situation.

You nod, and barely process being dragged into a janitor's closet by him, the complete shock taking too long to register.

"Oi Chigiri, what're you doing?" Ending up in a janitor's closet with one of the most popular artists of your age was not expected.

"Dating rumours, you say?" He breaths out, dismissing your question, a chuckle soon rises in his throat. "We're not too different, no? I have the perfect solution for you."

"Which is?" Once again, he ignores your questions, slowly coming closer towards you, face close in proximity to yours.

"Date me."

TWO | FOUR | MASTERLIST

PAIRING. chigiri hyoma x reader

SYNOPSIS. school gets overwhelming with constant rumours and accusations, thankfully someone is willing to help. but what happens when this mutually beneficial agreement escalates into something more?

GENRE. social media au, fake dating, idol / actor au

TAGLIST. @izzylovestnbhd, @angelchigiri, @punkhazardlaw, @silly-ez, @y-sabell-a

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[marketfreshfics]

Saturn of ULTRA - Prologue

Plot summary: When a futuristic Hogwarts is constructed after a massive catastrophe, a new threat to wizard-kind emerges in the wake of such advancement. An unlikely pairing must work together to prevent history from repeating itself.

Tags: Hogwarts AU (canon divergence) | friends to lovers | aged-up characters (7th year) | NSFW content (magical violence, smut, language)

Waking with senses so ill-equipped ought to be outlawed. Incandescent lamplight induced squints and her eyes squeezed shut, annoyingly so after having been closed for so long. Her sense of sight shook the dust from misuse, eyelids dry and stinging as she strained to make sense of colours, disconnected from dreams, and, albeit reluctantly, reattached firmly to reality and the demands of the present.

She was horizontal, thank Merlin; standing was a language she lost to lack of use, especially if she didn’t have legs. Did she? Was she still human?

Her toes could curl, and the blankets shifted over her limbs, temporarily relieving her delusions. Remarkably, her joints did not crack from fusion, though atrophy had done a number on her.

Seconds passed as she gathered her bearings again, or at least enough to look around a second time, inhaling sharply when she met a pair of brown eyes wide as saucers.

“You’re awake!” cried a familiar voice, familiar despite the haze of memory that nearly failed her thrice. Female and soft, she combed through her mental faculties to place a voice to a face, and, once fully visible, a face to a name.

It all connected at once. “Poppy?” She croaked, the sound a hollow wrack, coughs immediately following suit.

"Yes, yes it's me!" Poppy's joy manifested in a giddy seat-bounce in the armchair at the bedside, radiating relief. "Can you sit upright? Shall I ring for a nurse?" But before her bedridden friend could manage a partial response, she was calling for one anyway, unwilling to leave risk to chance on this momentous occasion.

The waking girl found her voice again with an air of confusion. “A nurse?”

Small, spry hands grasped hers then, and with a feeble sense of self, she was soon sitting upright with pillows to prop, blinking snapshots of her surroundings as if to process them slower than experiencing the now at full speed. Sense began to manifest then, as she recognized lying in a hospital bed, all manner of potion stores lining the nearby shelf, the black chalkboard enchanted to mark up a real-time display of her vital signs, arcing and dipping with her rapid heart rate.

Abruptly, the nurse on staff was erased with a sponge, one Miss Ophelia Derby replaced with the healer taking over, Miss Nova Fenwick. 

A proper lot to digest awaited as she looked to Poppy for a slice of normalcy. With her, fresh memories of feeding mooncalves and scritching baby snidgets under their beaks soothed her brain ache, a small respite; call it intuition, but an inkling writhed in her unfed gut that the situation outside her bubble of awareness was grim.

As if to cram the notion deeper, Poppy’s subtle glance shift from eyes to throat fisted her self-consciousness, and so she felt about her face, noting all the important bits and bobs were still there, though something felt different…

Fingertips brushed the slip of fresh, sensitive skin, where it connected to the jagged, familiar skin of her neck. She followed it, from her earlobe to the hollow of her clavicle, scrunching her neck in an attempt to see it despite being physically unable to contort in such a manner.

The attending healer politely rapped her knuckles on the open door, asking if all was well before her eyes flared wide with the shock of finding her previously comatose patient sitting up and fully conscious. She spun on her heels, plaited hair whipping with the abrupt motion as she hurried off to hail a doctor. 

Alone with Poppy once again, the burden of her two most prominent, must-be-spoken words fell on her shoulders. “What happened?”

The weight of the question buckled then, as Poppy’s chest swelled with the kind of inhale only meant to precede difficult conversations. She let it out unbearably slow and prepared the words that would provide clarity. From her solemn expression, she wasn’t exactly eager to know.

And so, Poppy told her dear friend about the night that everything fell apart.

A Ravenclaw through and through, her pursuit of knowledge knew nary a bound.

But this was information she ought not to have asked for.

Though her wand rested in her lap again, the hawthorn conduit pristine save for a small scorch mark on the hilt, she felt as if the ancient magic in her had somehow perished. The news that Poppy shared had been so devastating, so life-shattering that she wasn’t keen on the next steps, the what-nows unspoken for the time being, almost in mourning. She was left with this lead ball of news in her gut, liable to pull her down with it as it sunk.

Hogwarts was destroyed.

Once Ranrok accessed the final repository beneath the school, a chain of events followed in deliberate, gutwrenching succession. 

First, her ancient magic amplified the effects of the repository. In Poppy’s words, it was like a magnifying glass held beneath a blinding ray of sunshine at high noon.

Second, when Ranrok was defeated, the magic was rendered unstable, and despite the ancient magic wielder containing it within a vessel as a source of rest, it remained hostile, churning continuously in the moments following, the volatile power fermenting in its own subatomic mass.

Then third, terribly so, the unbridled magic began to spread outward and up, pulverizing the very foundational bricks of the castle like shale rock beneath boots. Luckily, the professors were able to evacuate the school grounds exceptionally fast, with Aurors arriving on the scene to assist, but there was nothing that could be done to preserve or save Hogwarts. The clock face was first to fall, followed by the west tower, the Ravenclaw and Astronomy towers crumbling simultaneously, and then one by one, history, stories, and an era in itself were laid to rest in ruin.

That was in February. Seven months ago.

And the descendant of ancient magic had slept ever since. “Well, the muggle term is 'medically-induced coma,’ but that sounds awfully bleak,” Poppy sighed. 

She cried through her physical exam, tears ceasing only while being coached through learning to walk again, but as soon as her personal effects had been returned to her on the day she was discharged, they sprang forth with renewed agony, facing the outside world without knowing what came next, as if the pages of a book she was halfway through reading were promptly torn out, the ending lost for good.

And to add more fuel to the flames of guilt consuming her insides, she learned her advisor and mentor over the past six months had perished along with the castle as well. 

Professor Fig deserved far, far better, she thought, watching the valleys and hills of the highlands pass by in a blur of evergreen beneath the setting sun, as the Hogwarts Express rolled smoothly along the tracks en route to… well, whatever it was now.

Of course, they’d rebuilt the castle, she thought when Poppy went on to explain the aftermath. Students and staff banded together to erect a replica of the fortress they adored, though the unfettered magic, left floating about, anchored to the school grounds from the repository had… altered it, as time passed. When prompted for further explanation, Poppy refused to elaborate and remained blatantly cryptic, advising her to “keep an open mind.”

She ruminated endlessly in the weeks leading up to the start of term, during her physical rehabilitation appointments scheduled alongside the magic refresher compendium that Professor Sharp had oweled to her over the summer. “Seventh year awaits,” he wrote, each flourish of his rushed penmanship as punctuated as his tenor drawl, “see to it that you maintain your upward trajectory.”

Despite everything, the wielder of ancient magic felt wholly useless to the cause. Ever the diligent friend, her Hufflepuff companion provided reassurance, reminding her that she was bedridden and healing for the heftier half of a year. “Everyone is eager to see you again,” she added affectionately. “Especially a certain redhead.”

Garreth. 

Bloody hell.

He was the first of whom she asked Poppy for updates about, steering the topic of conversation back to brighter prospects. Before Hogwarts was felled, before Ranrok and his arsehat loyalists encroached beneath their sacred place of study, Garreth had gone ahead and topped off the culmination of months spent flirting back and forth, their friendship toeing the line marking uncharted territory, with an admission of his feelings that left her chest tight and her center of gravity knocked clean off its axis.

And despite being deemed one of the brightest witches of her time, she hadn’t a clue how to react before mumbling a pathetic, “I need to think about it,” scrambling off to anxiously breathe into her bed linens. 

Award-winning, frustrating, remarkable display of utter stupidity, that was.

She wouldn’t have the gall to approach him now and ask him to backtrack his feelings, months later, without a responding peep bridging the gap with a swell of awkwardness. 

A Ravenclaw through and through, yes, but she was certainly dimwitted to matters of the heart.

Commotion in the adjacent booths tugged her from the self-flagellation stewing in her feelings. She poked her head out of the lonely compartment, curiously eavesdropping on a swath of fourth years discussing some sort of ward approaching. “Once the train passes through, it’ll light right up! My uncle helped with the redesign, incredible what that magic has done…”

“Quite right, I’m excited to see it happen.”

It only prompted more questions, of which she was about to pose to the younger students, when the train slowed considerably in its locomotions. 

The voice of the stately conductor echoed through the corridor then, announcing to a chorus of animated titters and chatting. “Attention, students! We are now passing through the school ground wards, so you will notice some changes occur. Please remain seated, and ensure your personal effects are tidied, packed, and ready for arrival.”

Everything began to change in rapid succession, and she was wholly unprepared.

The first thing she noticed was how dark it became, all at once, without the ebb from daylight to night.

Then, immediately after, the train compartment transformed from the timeless warmth of woodgrain and upholstery, to sleek metal fabrication and dazzling light fixtures that glowed an otherworldly shade of teal.

The scenery outside her window drastically altered before her eyes, as the Hogwarts Express slowed in its approach of the train station.

And when Hogwarts Castle appeared in the distance, alight with fluorescent saturation, electric in its very existence, she was left in gobsmacked awe.

Thank you to @wedonthaveawhile for letting me 'borrow' her OC Nova from her story, The Serpents Hold 🤍 you are a total peach and I LOVE YOU

[crownsandbishops]

Crowns and Bishops Behind the Scenes (part 1)

In today's extra long post, for the anniversary of Crowns and Bishops I will be giving you guys a peak behind the process of creating a comic for the Blog, in this case, Vine's Lore post! The Final one of the main set! For extra long asks like this I always start out by typing up a script, laying out exactly what I might want to say in response to the question at hand! Here's the full typed script for Vine's lore post [it ended up SUPER long, I think because I've had the most time to think about Vine's character and what I wanted for him haha!]

From there I start on the first panel, and as anyone who has seen my wips or just knows how I drew things, every Jir character starts their life as a circle!

I reuse some assets mostly for backgrounds to make the process go easier, such as these pillars and skulls in Narinder's realm!

Because mspaint doesnt have layers, different coloured outlines are used to create what is essentially different layers so that adjustment to one section doesn't affect another!

I kept this one mostly the same but adjusted the legs because it wasn't looking quite right!

for details like the shawl stripes I overlap the lines like this and then paste over it with the red being transparent, so only the details on the red remain!

When I'm happy with the main image I then add the text from the script!

It usually takes 4-5 iterations before I'm happy with placement, clarity and spacing! I also often have to account for the colours i use to make them the most readable against the background of each panel!

I look up reference images for this, like the standard way that a cloak like this one would be held together!

And since the Lands of the Old Faith is a closed-off continent in the preindustrial era any background will be confined to one of the five Bishop's lands! For this one I've chosen a forest like the one in this trailer for the game, but with an adjusted colour pallet!

I decided for the next panel, since Vine's mother's characterization was kind of a messed up allusion to the virgin Mary, that I should reference a biblical painting related to it and found this one

Though the cosmology and relations are different, the Seller was the obvious stand in for the Angel Gabriel in the picture!

Some panels start with the background, others with the character depending on what makes the most sense! Here I have a bit of both worked on but I'm focusing on drawing Vine!

For the ritual sacrifice Vine and his mother created a fake traitor's razor as the ceremonial dagger, and a clasp reminiscent of Gaap's, Narinder's most favoured vessel up to this point, as well as utilizing ceremonial paint and other decorations and representations related to Narinder!

When drawing imprisoned Narinder the hardest part tends to be fitting the veil properly above his opened third eye!

For the next panel, I show the intersection between the three vessels, as though Vine would've been born while Nelly was Narinder's vessel, Acedia does come before him in the order, so I had to square away how that would work!

When I initially decided on the order for Narinder's vessels I hadn't decided on the broad strokes of who they were and how they would've been chosen, so Acedia being before Vine but only for a single year between Nelly and Vine ends up quite silly!

If there's no real room like here, I'll sometimes extend the canvas to add black bars to add the text in.

I asked my chat for a follower form and was suggested Wolf, so the follower Vine is charming here was made a wolf!

I use this wall asset for the cult grounds in the background!

And I have various colour references for other things like Camellias and the outfits for non-cult affiliated denizens of the Lands!

( apparently, I can only have so many pictures so >:3 Part 2 awaits!)

[crackedpumpkin]

ok hi you know this is coming :))

so could i have a uhhh… 12 casey with a side of him realising he has feelings for y/n and an added he’s never had a crush before so he doesn’t know wtf is happening.

thank you ilysm <33333

Hello there lovely~!! I hope you enjoy this one!

|| ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ || 2ᴋ12! ᴄᴀꜱᴇʏ ᴊᴏɴᴇꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

“Chill out, sweetheart. It’s just a hockey puck.” 

“You almost broke my nose!” You all but yell, eyes narrowed into a glare. You’re practically hugging the wall beside you, having flinched away at the hockey puck Casey Jones had sent ricocheting off the goalpost in the ice rink.

He slides up to where you sit, the wall divider separating him from your frustrated punch. You sigh in defeat, picking up the hockey puck when your racing heart calms and tossing it back to him. 

You grab the textbooks next to you, rearranging them with a few pieces of paper with math equations scribbled on them. Casey eyes it with disdain, leaning onto the divider. 

“C’mon, you need to study. You have a test coming up soon.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes at your anxious expression, “I’ll ace the quiz, no problem.” You cross your arms at this statement, looking at him with deadpan eyes. You don’t believe a single word of it; his past history of bad grades only proves otherwise.

“Trust me! I’ll be fine. In fact, I should be rewarded for how good I’m gonna ace it.” His lips quirk up into a lazy smirk. You straighten your back. 

“A bet? Interesting. What do you think should be your reward, though?” Your question stumps him, and Casey’s lips purse in thought.

What should he ask for? A free meal? A date? What would be something only you could give that wasn’t too outrageous?

“A kiss.” The decision tumbles past his lips before he can process it, and he’s about to laugh it off, but the way you grimace only makes his smirk grow. To his surprise, however, you nod with a roll of your eyes. 

“Sure,” You snort, “If you get an A on the quiz, I’ll give you a kiss.” You were confident he wouldn’t be able to ever get that high of a grade, so your lips were safe and remained unkissed. 

“Shake on it?” He holds out his gloved hand, and you grab it firmly, a smug grin on your lips. You pump your hand up and down, sealing the deal.

— — — — — — — — 

Casey groans in frustration, hunched over his messy desk. Scrunched-up wads of paper fill his table, some scattered on the floor. He slumps down with a sigh onto the open textbook, cheek squished against the paper and fiddling with his pencil. 

Why was he working so hard anyway? It wasn’t like he wanted that kiss for real or anything. 

He recalls your smug grin, almost taunting. He sits back upright with a scowl. He’d show you! He was Casey Jones, the saviour of New York City and soon to be the highest scorer in class! He’d prove you wrong and get that kiss from you, picturing your surprised face and the frustrated scowl on your smooth, pink lips.

Yeah, he’d prove you wrong.

— — — — — — — — 

The bell rings, signalling the end of the test paper. He heads off to lunch in a daze. He was pretty sure he nailed most of the questions, save for the trick one at the end. He’d do alright, wouldn’t he?

Yeah, he’d get an ‘A’ easily.

“Nervous?” He’s snapped out of his thoughts when you nudge him gently, having queued up beside him. He picks up the last mini parfait in front of you both, absentmindedly setting it down on your tray without as much of a glance. You like parfaits, he recalls, having shown up to many tutoring sessions with you snacking on one.

He misses the flicker of surprise in your eyes, your gaze softening when you realize he noticed and even remembered your favourite dessert. 

He turns to face you, surprised when he sees your dyed hair. “Woah! Nice highlights!” He remarks, and your cheeks blossom pink from embarrassment. He smiles widely at the sight. 

“Thanks. I just wanted to try something new, I guess.” You fiddle with the ends of your hair, looking away. He wants to add how good the colour looks on you, but the words die in his throat once your friends call you away.

“Hey, good luck on that test. Even if you don’t get an A, you’ll definitely have improved from the last one.” You add before walking away, a genuine smile on your lips. 

He chooses to forego his unsaid compliment, grinning widely. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He watches you walk away with the tray in your hands, sitting down with your usual group. He almost walks into a wall, stumbling back just in time and tearing his gaze away from where he’s watching you laugh. Were your eyes always this bright?

Weird.

— — — — — — — — 

Casey holds the piece of paper, gulping before turning it around. He opens his eyes, having subconsciously squeezed them shut in anticipation. A large ‘A’ is circled on the top next to his name, and he whoops in delight.

The teacher frowns at him, and he quickly shuts up and sits back in his seat. He’s practically vibrating in his chair, adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins. He couldn’t wait to show you and rub the result in your face while gloating. And, of course, the kiss!

The kiss?

He pauses. Why had that been what he was most excited for?

Of course, he was excited about the kiss. It was what you had bet on, after all, he reasons. But a slight feeling nags him in the corner of his mind, unable to pinpoint exactly what was so odd.

It’s not like he has a crush on you or anything. That’d be weird. You’re just his tutor, after all. It’d be bizarre if he did. That’s why he doesn’t have a crush on you.

Right?

[thejacketscloset]

Hold my hair up, darlin. (ice packs on my neck)

Soap had a real bone to pick with whoever invented wisdom teeth, and whoever decided they needed to be removed in some shitty complicated and painful process. He had thought for most of his life that he’d gotten out lucky, seeing as he never had a reason for them to be removed when he watched all his friends complain about the pain before and after their surgery’s in High School. He’d honestly gone years without thinking about the teeth, until an unfortunate recent development.

It had started some time at the beginning of the week, he had been doing some casual sparring with Gaz on their day off. Gaz had gotten a pretty good hit against Johnny’s jaw, nothing too concerning, but it ached like hell even long after they were done sparring. Soap hadn’t thought it was concerning though, he was used to bruises and sores lasting. After about two days of aching though he lamented about his pain to Price, and of course the old bastard had been worried about it. 

Next thing he knew Price was asking him all these questions about his pain and his fucking dental history of all things. Soap thought the concern was stupid, and let Price know more than once, but now there was no stopping the stubborn man now that he had the worries in his head. He was practically scheduling an orthodontist consult within twenty minutes of the questioning, and of course that had only led to Soap having a surgery scheduled later that month that he had been ordered not to cancel just because he didn't want to  because apparently dental health is just as important and price didn’t want Soap whining about his jaw constantly on the field.

It was all bullshit to Soap, but no one seemed to agree with him. 

Embarrassingly enough, when Soap had complained to his lieutenant it somehow ended up getting him put in Ghost’s care for his recovery, which was the complete opposite of what Soap had been hoping for. Typically Johnny would be eager to jump on any opportunity to spend more time with Ghost out of work, but being dragged around by him while he’s high-as-balls off anesthesia wasn’t something Soap considered to be quality time.

 Soap tried convincing Price not to rope Ghost into it, telling him he could deal with the recovery himself, but surprisingly both Price and Ghost shot that suggestion down immediately. 

You’ll need a ride home Johnny, and I already agreed to. I’ve seen you shit-faced after bars plenty of times before, quit worrying about this, it won't be any different.

Just like that Soap was out of options, so with no other arguments left he simply moped up until his surgery day. Ghost had gone with him to the procedure before-hand, even thoug+h he only needed to be there after it was done, which Soap wouldn’t deny was nice. 

Ghost ended up waiting nearby for the whole procedure, being right there when the nurses finally brought him back out of the recovery room in a wheelchair. In true Soap fashion he was complaining, it was hardly understandable through his thick accent and slurred words, but Ghost found himself fighting off a smile underneath his mask at the sight of it. 

The nurse hands Soap off to Ghost and wishes him luck, and as soon as he’s asking for cooperation Johnny is being stubborn. Ghost asks his sergeant to stand up quickly so he can be transferred into the passenger seat, and he’s met with Soap’s colourful vocabulary. 

“Ma heid’s mince, Ah’m not getting up” Soap grumbled and leaned his body away from Ghost’s reach, lazily swatting away his hand. 

“I thought you agreed you wouldn’t be stubborn after?” Ghost complained right back, there was no real annoyance to his words though. He ignored Soap’s swats and practically hauled the Scott up by himself into the passenger seat. 

“Ah umnae stubborn..” Soap mumbled, his head lolling off to the side. He watched quietly as Ghost reached across him and fastened his seatbelt for him, he probably could’ve done that himself if he had asked.

“Sure you aren’t.” Was what Soap got in response before Ghost closed the door and moved over to the drivers side. Even in his loopy state soap could recognize the amusement dripping from Ghost’s tone. 

Soap is basically falling in and out of awareness during the drive back, everytime Ghost glances over him he can see Soap looking at him fondly. It makes his face feel warm underneath his mask, and he tries not to think too much about it, Johnny probably doesn’t even know he’s staring. 

“Is there something on my face Johnny?” Ghost asks quietly when they’re just turning down the street that Soap’s flat is on. He glances at Soap once again to see the other’s reaction, but it just looks like he's scrunching his face up in pain. “You alright there?” 

“Am pure done in” Soap says gruffly. He runs a hand down his face before letting out another groan and rolling his head to lean away from Ghost.

Ghost chuckles a little at him and says "You're alright Johnny, we'll get you laying down once we're back," in a soft tone. He doesn't really think Soap is listening to him but suddenly he hears sniffles coming from the other. Ghost doesn’t even have a chance to ask if something was wrong again before Soap is crying quietly and babbling words that Ghost just can’t quite catch. 

Ghost looks over to Soap again, and his heart squeezes slightly at the sight. The sergeant is basically pouting at him, his lip wobbling with tears pooling in his eyes. The sight was honestly jarring to the lieutenant, though in any other circumstance it probably would’ve been a bit amusing. Soap spoke up again, this time more clearly, and Ghosts concerns were put to rest. 

“You’re just being so nice to me” Soap practically wailed,taking uneven voices in his emotional state. “Ah feel bad yer stuck dealing with me when ye should be having a damn break.” 

Ghost was stumped for a second, taken aback by Johnny’s sudden confession. After a few seconds though he composes himself enough to respond properly to his friend, hoping to prevent him from getting any more emotional. 

“I’m not ‘stuck’ Johnny, I agreed to do this willingly. ‘Couldn’t have you hurting yourself even more before we even get to recover, Price gave special orders to keep you from doing something dumb.” 

Soap shook his head in response, quiet sniffles could still be heard from his side of the car. “Yer so carin L.T. I woulda been fine on mah own. I’m glad yer here.”

Ghost felt his face go warm under his mask once again, and he gripped the steering wheel a bit harder than what was needed. It felt wrong to hear all that from Johnny in that moment, like those word’s weren’t yet ready for his ears. If Ghost was going to listen to his sergeant spew bullshit about him caring he wanted it to be when he wasn’t high, with some humor to his tone. It felt less intimate that way, it was more comfortable for Simon to listen to. This was different though, this felt like Johnny’s private thoughts were out on display for the world and he didn’t even know it. It made Ghost’s stomach twist uncomfortably. 

"Relax Johnny, don't go saying things you'll regret later."  Ghost said in the same soft tone, but his words felt more heavy. Please god don’t say anything more, and please god don’t remember this later. 

“Ah willnea regret it Si,” Soap all but whispered, his sniffling had calmed significantly. The soft tone and the use of Simon’s nickname makes his stomach flip uncomfortably again. “Ah know ye need to hear it, ye really are wonderful. The team dinnea say it enough”

Ghost stayed quiet, kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, and didn't dare look at Soap again. He wasn’t sure why he felt almost afraid of what he might see, but somehow he knew whatever face the sergeant was making would break him one way or another.

By some grace of god they make it to Soap’s flat in one piece, and Ghost has to drag the other inside while he’s half-asleep. The second Soap hits the bed he’s fully out like a rock, and Ghost shakes his head fondly at the sight. It was expected though, he would need to sleep quite a lot to let the medication wear off. Ghost silently pull’s Soap’s blankets over him and makes his way outside of the bedroom, hoping to find something else to occupy his mind for the next few hours. He knew well what happens when he lets his mind wander. 

They always fall back to a certain persistent Sergeant he just can’t seem to deny a place in his mind and heart.

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a bit nervous to post this since it would b my first proper fic on here but whateveerrrrr you'll surely all be nice to me!

this is part 1 of a probably 3 part but potentially longer fic I'm gonna write! also give it a looksie on ao3 if that's your jam!