#anyway I wanna draw more of them when I am out of the finals mines

[vixxdaemon]

Erm. Anyway.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Now that I’ve spoken it out loud, I can’t ignore the strangeness around Ash anymore. The nightmares, the flashes of memory that don’t belong to me, and now, what feels like someone else’s words coming out of my mouth.

I’ve decided to keep some distance until I can figure this out, even if the very idea of it has me twisted up in knots.

As usual, when I arrive at work, he’s already there, joking around with Evan and Lex. I make a point to walk back by the windows to my desk, so I won’t have to face him. I know I’ll need to talk to him eventually, but I have no idea what I’m going to say, and now doesn’t seem like the time or place to say it anyway.

So, I avoid him. I avoid the situation. I avoid myself.

I sit at my desk, put my earbuds in, and I retreat to a familiar place deep within. And I work. I work through lunch despite the protests from my stomach. I don’t stop working until six o’clock, long past when Ash usually leaves. I don’t know if he tried to say hello or goodbye. I don’t even remember the day.

When I finally look up, the office is nearly empty, and the sun has just started to sink toward the horizon.

Rather than taking my usual route home, I take a right out of the building and head toward the gym. No one else is going tonight, but that's fine. I just need to think, and I think best when I'm climbing or running.

But I only make it two blocks before I hear his footsteps behind me, moving quickly along the wet concrete as he tries to catch up. I hadn’t even realized it rained today. The sky is clear now, but the moisture has left the air feeling sticky and unseasonably warm.

My heart jumps when I feel his hand tap my shoulder even though I was expecting it. I take a breath and turn to face him.

“Hey,” his greeting is like a hand reaching into a dark well, reaching down to try and pull me up from where I’ve retreated deep inside myself. His eyes search the darkness in mine. I can’t tell if he can see me or not.

He squints slightly and I know then that he can’t. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I say automatically.

“Everything’s fine?”

“Yeah.”

He squints harder, and the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, “Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion in his voice twists at my stomach and I have to focus on staying upright, on keeping all the muscles in my face and shoulders relaxed. It’s not easy, but I’ve had two decades of practice and I’m better at it than I’d like to admit. “No,” I say simply. Keeping my answers short to keep the emotion out of them.

Then it happens. I watch as his eyes harden like stones. This is it. This is when I fuck everything up. I can feel it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But maybe it’s for the best. I can’t risk him getting close to me.

“Atlas, what the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Do you think I’m stupid?”

The sharpness in his tone makes me flinch, cracking my armor, and I feel my brows pull together, “No,” emotion sneaks into my voice, drawing out the word.

“Atlas, I—” he seems to struggle for a moment. I wait, desperate to reach out to him, to put my hand on his arm and reassure him, but I’m trapped. My armor has become a cage, as it so often does. Helpless, I listen as he tries again, “I like you, a lot, and we had a really great time the other night, but… you said you’d call and you didn’t, which is fine, like, people get busy, it’s whatever… but you’ve spent the entire day acting like I don’t  exist and now you’re telling me everything is fine, acting as if nothing happened, making me feel like I’m fucking delusional or something. Do you have any idea how awful that feels?”

Yes. I feel myself deflate, a wave of shame pouring over me. I don’t think I can hate myself more than I do in this moment, realizing that I am indeed my mother's son. “I’m sorry,” I try to infuse as much sincerity into the words as I can, but they still fall flat.

“Right. You wanna tell me what’s going on then?”

“I can’t do this, Ash, I’m sorry. I think we should just be friends.” I let it out in a rush, unable to look him in the eye.

“Friends?”

I nod.

“You know, a ‘friend’ would’ve had the decency to talk to me about this rather than avoiding me.”

“I know, I’m—”

“Sorry. Yeah. I got that. Can you tell me why?”

“Because…” I sigh, grabbing on to the only explanation I can think of that makes any sense, “because we work together. I just… I don’t date people I work with.” It’s not necessarily a lie. I usually don’t consider my co-workers part of the eligible dating pool. But maybe if things were different, I’d’ve made an exception.

“You don’t date people you work with?”

“That’s right.”

He scoffs, “This would’ve been good information for you to share with me a lot sooner. I really don’t appreciate being led on.”

“I know, I didn’t mean… I got caught up. I shouldn’t have. I really am sorry.”

His head drops away from me, “Yeah, me too,” he says to the ground more than me, nudging a rock with his shoe. “So, friends then? That’s what you want?”

No. “Yes.”

He nods, still looking at the ground as he takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He finally looks back up at me, his eyes shining, not with their usual playfulness and excitement, but with tears threatening to spill over. I’ve hurt him. “Okay,” he says again, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turns around abruptly before I can respond and starts walking away.

I stand there for a moment, stunned. Everything about this feels wrong. I want to take it back. And I nearly call out to him, tell him to wait, that I didn't mean it. But then he reaches a hand up, wiping his face, and I stop myself. I've done enough damage already.

I was wrong earlier. It turns out I can hate myself more.

Prev // Next

[codecicle]

hi ash, could i utilise your mega autism for a moment? would it be possible for you to provide me with some good reference images for drawing Charlie's face ie front and side profiles ect? plus any tips on details you think are important? No pressure ofc! Just thought this might be something you had a lot of thoughts about anyway, if not then please don't go out of your way I am indeed capable of using google, it just takes longer and is less fun than talking to a cool guy XD

YES. YES ALWAYS AND FOREVER. GLADLY. ABSOLUTELY. Here's references + notes under the cut!

First of all, go -> here <- for a guide by razberypuck, which is perfect and explains everything better than I ever could.

Second of all, he has some pretty distinct features of both his face and his body that are important to keep in mind, which is mainly what I'll be talking about :-)

Third of all, not all these features need to be kept, especially when you consider styles and the tendency to drop certain parts of the body or face once you've learned the rules enough to break them. Im just listing them all so people know what features work well with their style and what features don't ^_^

His hair is very messy and fluffy, kinda like cowlicks for his entire head. His front hair typically comes down into bangs that curve towards the right, while the rest goes in every direction possible. (This is also true going back years ago. He just combed it a certain way, so you'd only see the fluffy cowlicks in the back of his head)

Another thing I wanna point out is his Adam's apple, which is very prominent ! I kept ted in the photo to show the difference ^_^

Also! No matter what era you're drawing from, his eyebrows shape a LOT of his face. They're really thick!

3/4ths views to show it more clearly, his jawline is relatively soft! And his old frames are clunky. He has a really pretty hooked nose which curves down towards the tip of it. Otherwise, it's pretty much a triangle! If you're drawing him from the side, keeping the little triangle dip on the side of his nose can help you find the general shape easier.

Also! The above images are really good examples of his mouth. I don't have many notes on this, but if you're going for anything 1 to 1 of him, I'd recommend keeping the curve of his cheeks downward when his mouth is closed, and the curve upward when he's smiling. He has visible cheekbones that make the area around his mouth appear very round

^ this is a great reference that shows everything I've been talking about. 1: triangle on the side of his nose to show the curve from the front 2: thick eyebrows 3: visible cheekbones and small curves around his mouth 4: cowlick hair

Also, he's very buff! Chulked out 2 the max. Some of these images came from me being a major hater over art of him, before remembering people can do whatever they want forever. But I can use it now! Charlie has wide shoulders, natural tummy, and gigantic tits.

He's visibly wider than Tommy and Ranboo, with a frame closer to Sneeg and James in build. He's strong!! He's really really strong!! I feel like people forget Just How Strong This Guy Is.

Also heres an image from and older post of mine, which I designed while trying to explain why he doesn't look That Different without the glasses (2 me). It's pretty much everything I said above, but summarized in a photo!

source: bro trust me and also source: the final 2 images i could fit on mobile which are 2 random face studies I have of him nearby. I have better one's but i can't find them right now so take these okay bye bye

+ I'm so sorry if this made 0 sense I'm very tired ^_^

[blapis-blazuli]

Now listen up

I am obsessed with this man. He's got so many weird details about him and I love (almost) all of them.

First, Slim's original concept fucks. Being an undead cattle rustler out for bull's blood due to being trampled to death is fascinating. I don't know how long it took before someone at Disney cried "too dark" at that backstory, but I'm surprised it was even in consideration given the mostly lighter tone of the final product. More than that, Disney could've had a literal ghost rider among their villains! Had that movie been any good, he might've joined Disney's popular villain lineup, or maybe we could've even gotten a boss battle with him in a Kingdom Hearts game. That's not what we ended up with due to Reasons, though, which is a bit disappointing, but not much you can do about that.

Anyway, onto what we did get.

Before Slim makes his formal appearance, he's only seen in silhouette, on a wanted poster, then in disguise, and is finally fully revealed when he rides in on a bison. He is huge, and I don't mean because he's fat, I mean he's a good deal taller than most of the other characters. He's set up to be someone threatening, to be taken seriously.

And then comes his yodeling villain song.

The moment it's revealed that Slim's yodeling can hypnotize cows, the music picks up and there's a literal rainbow of colors for the rest of his number. As I said, he's a big man, but he's also light enough on his feet to dance and jump on and off any of these cows while not missing a beat in his performance. When the men who got knocked out beforehand come running after him, he doesn't threaten them, he just throws his spurs at a precarious bit of rocky landscape with such force that it falls and blocks the pathway to him. That's more badass than if he did draw his gun on them.

Actually, I wanna talk about the music he performs. The movie's set in Wyoming during 1889, so obviously Slim's not gonna be yodeling A Cruel Angel's Thesis or whatever. They could’ve come up with something original for him to yodel to (which, I mean, they kinda do), but they chose music by composers such as Tchaikovsky and Beethoven, which aren't exactly things you'd associate with the wild west. The obvious out-of-universe answer for why those pieces were chosen is "they existed before the year this is set in, and they're recognized even today," but we've no in-universe answer for why he chose them or how he knows them. Regardless, it's kinda amazing that he knows them well enough to yodel them.

His lair in Echo Mine has an area with some nice furniture in it. How'd this shit get there? Who knows. Anyway, this is where he reveals that he disguises himself to buy up the properties owned by the people he's stolen cattle from, which includes his former employers. Why doesn't he work for any of them anymore? He never directly says. According to him, they didn't "appreciate [his] talents," which means they probably hated his yodeling. I don't blame him for being mad about that because why the hell would you tell someone that? If he's doing the job right and well without hurting anyone, then who cares? The idea that he's moved on to use a skill against the former bosses who didn't like it is kinda great though.

(Side note: a nice, small detail about this part of the lair is the faded branding on the map, which shows that Slim has been doing this for quite a while. Shame that it's not more consistent from shot to shot though. I can't take credit for noticing this myself: my partner pointed it out after I posted a screenshot as a joke on Discord. She's so cool.)

Slim doesn't like it when someone calls his yodeling "singing": he thinks singing is beneath him given the disdain in his voice when he says that's what birds, saloon gals, and children do. No, he considers what he does to be an art. He's not entirely wrong, though: it is an impressive skill, especially since he can yodel to certain classical pieces like The William Tell Overture, Ode to Joy, Ride of the Valkyries, and The 1812 Overture. (Also Yankee Doodle, because, well, American. Also maybe Largo al factotum from The Barber of Seville, but I'm unsure of that one: unlike Slim, I am no classical music expert.) There's no need for him to be quite as defensive about it as he is, but his nephews calling it "singing," saying that might be why his bosses didn't like him, and calling yodeling "silly" is enough to make him get violently angry at them. Man's got issues.

Oh yeah, Slim has nephews. They're triplets named Gil, Phil, and Bill, and they're collectively known as The Willies. Unlike their uncle, they're all blond and thin, so god knows what Slim's unnamed and unmentioned sibling must look like.

Slim also has a bison named Junior. I'm not fond of the whole "he's too fat to ride anything else" angle of that, but I do like that they chose an animal that people are constantly told to not mess with because of how dangerous they are. Slim's not afraid of him: he's got this creature trained to listen when he calls for him. I can only guess that Slim is the one who named Junior, so maybe he also raised him. It would explain why Junior appears annoyed with him but still puts up with having Slim jump on his back and the like.

You know what Slim doesn't have though? Kids. Putting together the disdain in his voice when he mentions children, his seemingly low opinion of saloon girls, his big villain number turning the landscape into a rainbow of colors, the queer history of cowboys, and the prevalence of queer-coding in Disney villains... well, I think you get where I'm going with that.

Moving onto his disguise. Don't ask me why nobody figured out this was Slim sooner, given that his wanted poster shows they have the same facial hair, bushy eyebrows, and bags under the eyes. My best guess is because it's in black-and-white and he's in a different outfit, and unless someone's encountered him before they probably don't know what he sounds like. Anyway, His alias is Yancy O'del (yeah, I know), but the one sign we see him with has both "Mister" and "Esquire" in there.

Having looked this up, I learned a few things. First, having "Mister" and "Esquire" together isn't something you're supposed to do, yet nobody in-universe caught this. Second, in the United States, "Esquire" is a title only used for lawyers, so maybe that's why nobody questioned him - fear of a sudden lawsuit for something or other. Third, "Yancy" was not really a name used back then, or at least not a common one. Why'd he choose that name (besides for the pun)? I dunno.

(Also, where the hell does Junior stay whenever he goes to one of these auctions? The world may never know.)

Slim's final defeat at the hooves/wings/what-have-you of several farm animals is pretty pathetic, even by silly Disney villain standards, but I got to give him credit for not wanting to give up even after his disguise is (literally) blown and while he's stuck in a train's smokestack. I have no idea how he planned on getting out of that one, and whatever it was most likely wouldn't have worked anyway, but I admire his refusal to back down in the face of obvious defeat.

Even in his very last scene we see him struggling with the ropes they tied around him while he's carted off to jail. He does not give up.

Anyway, here he is picking up Small Black Market Dealer Steve Buscemi one-handed like it's nothing. (His name is Wesley, but Slim keeps calling him Mister Weasley. That's right, this movie used that joke before Frozen did.)

And here he is lifting three full-grown cows off the ground before tying them up faster than they can react to it. (The cows have names too, but this post ain't about them.)

He uses his left hand to write and aim his gun and seems just as adept with using it as much as his right, which is cool. (There's no frame with both his face and the gun, so you'll have to trust me on that.)

Speaking of his hands

Look at this huge-ass man and his pinkies, I can't with this dude

Look at that smile, sir, who gave you the right

If there were a whole movie about just these two, I'd watch it, I won't even lie.

I've gone on about this guy for probably too long by this point, so to sum it all up:

Babygirl

[scourgefrontiers]

HONESTLY..ive been thinking a lil.

so i started down my path to becoming a professional character designer in 2013, when i designed my very first character who was MEANT to be a character design exercise. i cant exactly remember what prompted me wanting to go into character design--it could have just been that i was passionate about designing characters to the point of where i had looked up if that was a job or not--but it had become such a passion of mine that i would go on to study and practice character design for like 10 years afterward.

in 2018 i started to take this career path more seriously by enrolling in stephen silver's schoolism class, the fundamentals of character design. this was significant for me because stephen was at the time a very recent idol of mine and i admired his abilities--plus this would count as my first "formal" character design learning experience. i didnt feel very good after taking the class; it was critiqued, and i kind of got ripped into lol. but after i recovered, i didnt give up and just worked harder, eventually taking his second class a couple years later. that time i did pretty well and i came out feeling like i was finally ready to apply to jobs in the industry!

unfortunately, erm...the job hunting was not only Not a success, but it only served to kind of kill my passion for character design. every time i applied i was rejected and every critique i asked for gave me something new i had to do differently. one critique in particular hurt me a lot and killed my passion for art overall (obviously not completely, i have the art autism so i could never fully fall out of love for it lol). it got to the point where last year (2023) i made the decision to give up on character design as a career and just do commissions full time.

dont get me wrong, i am very happy doing commissions as my full time job!!! i love drawing people's blorbos :]...but also, its a very inconsistent income, and theres been a couple months where i couldnt make rent without help, and that doesnt feel good at all.

so ive been thinking. i dont rly wanna go back to the industry--it still feels bad to me and right now it seems as though the industry is not in a great environmental situation anyway, so i dont wanna even attempt to try getting a job there again. however........i was honestly reconsidering if i had actually lost the passion for character design because it just genuinely wasnt my true passion, or if i had only lost it because the industry killed it. and i think the conclusion i came to was that yeah it was the industry's fault that made me fall out of love with it because it made me feel like i was doing everything wrong and nobody would like my design style.

so now my thought is like...maybe i dont HAVE to work in the industry to be a professional character designer? sure itd be AMAZING for my work to be on like. cartoon network or something. but i dont think i Have to work at a studio to be happy in that career path?? like..idk. maybe i can be a freelancer or something. if an industry opportunity shows itself i dont think i'll decline, but i wont actively seek them out anymore.

its just that i feel like ive put too much work and time and money and effort and passion into character design yknow? i dont feel right anymore just letting the industry kill that passion. i wanna reignite it and use the knowledge and skills ive gained over the 10 years ive been working at it to make a good living for myself. yeah itd be great to get guild pay lol, but if i can just...figure out how to do freelance character design work, then i think it can be just as good and fulfilling

sorry for the long post i just needed to air some thoughts out as usual <33 i guess this does show that character design still is my passion LOL i talked so fucking much about it after all. if u have any thoughts to share feel free i guess

[razz-is-queer]

oh also anon from earlier— do you have lyrics for your songs posted anywhere? if not no problem i just wanted to stick some in my journal and want to make sure im not mishearing them

yes, for some reason my distributor is not actually uploading the lyrics even though i tried to attach them so i’ll post them here. :)

remember: i remember that night

you got so close to me

i held on so tight

would never let go

for the rest of my life

i’ve been thinking so much about what we are together

i’ve been stressing so much over you

now that you’re gone

i wish i was more poetic

i wish i could leave you alone

i wish i was a little bit better

i wish i was a little bit better (x2)

raindrops on my windowpane

remind me of you (x5)

sorry:

it’s the end of the world

‘at least mine anyways’

i’ll apologize til i lose my voice

or until you tell me to stop saying the s-word

and after you tell me to finally stop

i’ll say it one more time out of habit

so, so i’ll go, so i’ll go, far awayyyy

leave, you in peace, for the rest, of your days

tell me all your secrets

i’ll joke about them to all my friends

sticks and stones in my bones again

words stuck in my head forevermore

and so, so i’ll go, so i’ll go, far away

leave, you in peace, for the rest, of your days

you’re different, and i’m worthless

you’re awesome, and i’m worthless

you’re special, and i’m worthless

you’ve moved on, and i’m sorry

ocean:

drifting in an endless ocean of black

your picture looms over the horizon

i can run and run and never get closer

i love you so so much, but you’re gone

i can never reach you in this sea

splashes echoing but never reaching your ears

eyes darting but never meeting yours

i must have enough love to fill an ocean

a dark ocean, now that you’re gone

a dark ocean that i will never find a shore of

a dark ocean i’ll be in forever

a dark ocean i will never escape no matter how hard i try

an endless, hopeless ocean

interlude: (instrumental)

time:

time is running out

every second counts

running to my house

can’t escape it now

and i know that

this won’t last much longer

much longer (x2)

panic setting in

wonder will it end

painting on the wall

watching my downfall

but i know 

that this won’t, this won’t end soon

won’t end soon (x2)

it doesn’t feel the same anymore

your words don’t sound the same anymore

your hands don’t feel the same anymore

we are not the same anymore

glow:

bury me, somewhere i can

wake up in the pink opaque

draw the ghost, on my neck

in pink marker

hold my heart, near your chest

and hear it beat

close the lid, and cover me

cause there’s still time

i don’t want to, i don’t want to stay

i want to go away (x2)

bugs // unfinished:

will you still 

love me 

when i’m underground

will you still hold me

when im not myself

when the bugs eat my brain

they’ll see visions of you (x4)

i’m cutting out the pieces

to put you in a box

i’m severing my brain stem

so i can’t get any thoughts

i’m putting back the puzzle

we finished on the floor

so that i don’t want to

kill myself anymore

everything ends:

i wanna love you like it’s breathing

i wanna hold you like i need it

and your eyes, are so pretty tonight

and your eyes, remind me of the stars

drown me

in the sea

as i watch it all

crumble to dust

everything ends (x4)

i could see this coming a mile away

and what will writing songs do to stop it

what am i doing here

why am i here

i told you everything happens for a reason

and you told me everything ends

and you’re right

everything ends (x3)

morning: (instrumental)

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[shadow-the-artist-idiot]

Anywho, taking a break from the TMA posting(i swear i'll post about more than just tma, its just clawing at my brain) to yap about my SKRUNKLY !!!! MY SILLY !!!!! MY,,, DRUMROLL PLEASE,,, SONA !!!!

Little trigger warning for Self Harm and Suicide n all that. Uh.

Though shes really more of. Just an oc at this point.

....

We ignore

ANYWAYS idk if you noticed. But shes Fucked Up™️. MOST of her scars are from just absolute random bullshit i put her thru when i was younger to get anger n frustration out. So i AM trying to fix that. Once i get her backstory straight, ill make another lore dump post about this stupid motherfucker i prommy.

Anyways, fun fact, this stupid bastard was my first oc EVER!!! Shes my stupid motherfucking bastard and i love her <33

Shes AroAce(just like me fr fr), n uses she/her. For now. Itll PROBABLY stay that way, cuz ive hard her like that for a LONG time, but if i start using other pronouns then ive prolly decided that shes pangender. Like me. Sparkles.

ANYWAYS heres a few random fun facts about that stupid whore

-Shes a Living Shadow, which is my own lil custom species. Idk if I'll end up lore dumping about the species itself or not.

-She has a DAUGHTER. Her name is Melody and shes both incredibly responsible and also a menace, and we love her for it. Shes also based on an axolotl.

-Shadow was just a full on Queen for a few years, before she finally was able to pass it down to Melody. She then proceeded to be even more of an absolute bastard to make up for those years she was forced to be responsible. Shes a little chaotic motherfucker, and if you see her in the castle you better run the FUCK away.

-Shadows like. Old as hell. I dont remember exact age, but iirc shes like mid 40s. Note, this is because i was roleplaying her in a chaotic ass server with a chaotic ass timeline and i simply cannot be bothered to age her down(if i did, Melody would poof out of existence and i dont want that, i love ky fucked up little queen)

-Shadows a SHORT ass motherfucker, and contrary to the fact above this one, i DO remember how short she is. Shes 5'2", and she holds enough rage to kill 56 grown men in her small little itty bitty frame(this does not reflect irl, i am unfortunately average height)

-Funnily enough, Shadow has both the goofiest and most traumatized backstory behind her scars. Like, a LOT of her scars are from self harm/suicide attempts, but also shes missing her hand because a character of mine from a complete other universe appeared and gnawed it off(bryseis my beloved).

-Shadow pissed off the Goddess of Death so much that she made Shadoe unable to die. Now you may be asking yourself: How the fuck is this a punishment. WELL. At the time, she was INCREDIBLY suicidal. Still kinda is. At this point, its switched from a punishment to just something thats kinda there now that Shadow and Trius(goddess of death) are friends.

-Shadow canonically has a MASSIVE alcohol problem. She bounces between drinking so much she passes out, and just putting a little wine with her coffee(it tastes disgusting) (she doesnt care)

-Shadow would probably have a smoking problem too, if she knew they existed. Nobody tell her cigarettes exist.

-Shadow drinks the strongest coffee you can possibly imagine. No its not healthy. Yes she drinks it anyways. Yes its kinda necessary(she has INSANE insomnia)

Anyways uh, shadow has some silly magic,, which is why in her ref she has illusions. She can create illusions, open portals, and melt into shadows, though that last one is something all Living Shadows have.

In Living Shadow culture or whatever, scars are INCREDIBLY frowned upon. Meaning, typically, if someone has even a small scar, they'll probably be hiding it with illusion magic. Shadow does the same thing, which is why I vary between drawing her with scars and drawing her without them.

Jesus this post is long as hell, im gonna explode. Okay uh ive talked enough methinks, if you wanna art Shadow then absolutely feel free !!! Just make sure to tag me so i can reblog that shit!!!

:DDDD

[subway-boss-jericho]

Hey all! Announcement stuff!

Thank you to everyone who has been very patient with me. I swear to god i could turn into one of those Ao3 authors thats like "hahaha sorry i havent updated in so long i died and then came back to life and then i had to work 7 jobs" and im being so fucking brave about it!! ANYWAYS THATS NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT!

Tomorrow is the 1 Year anniversary of steady tracks chapter 1! 🥳(and also my birthday. yes that was on purpose)

So! I wanted to give you all some updates and stuff to look forward to because oh god it sure has been an entire fucking year since I uploaded stuff and I refuse to feel bad about it but my brain is trying so hard to make me! I am working on chapter 2. Progress has been terribly slow because of severe life events, thank you for your understanding.

So!! What's next? Well, over the summer I am really fucking hoping to finish chapter 2. I know I keep saying this but literally i stg. I'm going apeshit. do you know how hard it is to think about something for an entire year and never have the time, motivation, or energy at the same time to make it exist?? fucked up!! Before that though, I have a few things.

I TOLD you all that I would talk about an AU of mine, whichever was highest voted in that strawpoll I did, and then surprise i fuckin didnt do that. I would very very much like to do that! The problem, I realized, is that I operate super hard on a reactionary basis so I am not prone to talking about anything that is mine until prompted about it or given permission. Fucking, Wack. This is my house. I should be cringe and free but nooooo. Anyways, because of this, I am planning on doing 2 things -> Actually tell you guys about spirit keeper! You all voted for him back when, and especially with that ✨Fucking, Gorgeous✨ commission from Fronomeeps I got (for me birthday :]) I really really really want to do that. And post my art more. and shit like that. seriously i need to get out of my head or I'll explode. someone needs to scream about how cool these stories are with me or I'll dissolve. -> I am thinking of doing a day long event where I stream an Aggie/(Magma?) where I draw my AUs and let people hop in to join in (as long as it stays on topic!) as well as answering as many asks as I can about my many aus and basically setting you guys up to trick me into infodumping. Because let me tell you i have a year and a halfs worth of words in my head and i am 100% confident ingo and emmet enjoyers would really like to hear them. So I wanna do a big ask party Q&A and really get things rolling!! Hopefully with drawings and doodles involved! as a celebration for myself, and as a way to open up to the greater fandom (Please leave a comment if you think that sounds cool, I'm trying to gauge interest because if i went all out and no one showed up it would be Extremely Depressing!)

ON! THAT! TOPIC!!! I am actively (literally interspersed with as I am typing this) making a UQUIZ about all of my significant AUs. For the record, there are 23 results on this quiz. I currently only have 3/23 final results completed, but it is my active focus over the weekend to finish as many of those as I can to try and complete the entire thing within a week or less. Also poking at my phrasing here, when I say my significant aus I Mean It, I have more than 23, but these 23 are the ones with stories tangible enough to start somewhere and elaborate on. I have about 10 that I would consider my main AUs, but some of the smaller ones are huge sleeper favorites.

SO YEAH!!! PLEASE LOOK FORWARD TO THAT AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU'RE INTERESTED!! I really wanna do fun stuff and get to know people in the fandom more than just. that person who wrote 1 chapter of a cool fic that one time. I have so much more to offer and I struggle so much to offer it. Please draw me out of my shell, I wish to enter the fandom sphere 🥺

thank you for giving me a great year <3 ((and hopefully the next one will be better <3))

[dreamy625]

Mystery machine - one-shot

Words: 5140

Content: Halloween shenanigans. For once, a whole-band fic rather than a Steve-specific one. Shout out to the OG Def Leppard Halloween fic: https://defkisshalen.tumblr.com/post/632162929321672704/since-i-cant-draw-for-crap-i-thought-i-might 

-----------------------------

“Everyone, this is Susie.”

Susie smiles and gives a little nervous wave at the band members scattered around the lounge area of the bus.

“So, this is Phil.”

The moon is still waxing, so he’s more or less human at this point, but the big grin he gives the newcomer displays some unusually large and pointed teeth. Susie feels the faint vestigial fleeing instinct of an ancient shrew-like ancestor facing an apex predator, but smiles back politely. 

“Sav’s already retired to his tank, but this is Gloria, his girlfriend.”

Susie looks to where Joe is pointing but can’t see… “Oh. The… err… fish?”

Gloria swims to the front of her bowl and blows a cloud of bubbles in greeting.

“Right. How do I…?”

“Oh, she can hear you. And you can tap on the glass, but just gently or it gives her a headache. Sav can translate if you wanna chat.”

“Lovely to meet you, Gloria.”

“Of course, you’ve met Steve before,” the pale glowy outline of a slender, long-haired man raises its hand in greeting, “and that’s his better half, Cassie.”

“Hi Susie, welcome to Munster Mansion!”

Joe glances around uncertainly, “And someone’s invisible...”

“...but we don’t know who...” chimes in Phil.

“…because we can’t see them.”

Cassie shakes her head, “It’s Rick. Obviously. They’re just idiots. I think he went out with Kate, but of course you can never be sure.”

“Is Kate invisible too?”

“No, she’s a shapeshifter, so she could be anywhere, or indeed, anything.” Joe laughs, “Just don’t sit down or plug anything into the mains without checking!”

“Uh, useful tip. Noted.”

Cassie notices that poor Susie is looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Come sit here, fellow human.” She pats the seat next to her, “This is definitely just a cushion!”

Gratefully, Susie sits down. “Thanks. It really is lovely to finally meet everyone. I’m just not great with new, err…” she glances at Gloria gliding serenely around in her bowl, “people.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be one of the family in no time.”

“The Addams Family!” chips in Joe, rifling through the fridge for drinks.

“Pretty much!” agrees Cassie laughing. “After all, everyone’s secretly some kind of weirdo deep down, aren’t they?”

“I guess. But you’re not…?”

“Well, I’m a witch. But that’s something I do, not something I am. So yeah, I’m normal.”

Phil snickers, “Apart from the necrophilia!”

“Shut up, Muttley. Anyway, that would be spectrophilia.” She turns back to Susie, “Ghosts, not corpses. Yuck. And just the one ghost actually, I don’t have a ‘thing’ about it.”

“Course you don't, sweetie,” says Steve with a smirk, “you were just hanging around in that cemetery entirely innocently.” 

“For the hundredth time, I was collecting herbs!”

“So that’s how you two met, in a graveyard?”

“Yup.” Seeing the slightly startled expression on her face, he clarifies, “It wasn’t mine. I was visiting Bonzo. He was out, but then I saw this pretty girl lurking among the headstones and had to meet her.”

“He actually came up behind me and said boo!” she giggles.

“So I’m not great with new people either,” mumbles Steve, staring at the carpet through his feet.

Cassie smiles at him fondly, “It worked though, didn't it. Of course, I didn’t realise he was a ghost at first. It was pretty dark, and I didn’t have my glasses on.”

“And I didn’t realise she wasn’t a ghost, ‘cause of the make-up and the cloak.”

“My goth phase.”

“Didn’t find out until our second date…”

“When we were so busy talking we weren’t looking where we were going and I walked into a wall…”

“And I walked through it.”

“It was a shock, but by then…” she tilts her head to Steve’s phantasmal shoulder, causing a rosy pink glow to flare around them. “So we… figured it out. To be honest, the rock band thing has been more of an adjustment. You’d think, if you hooked up with a ghost, you’d be off haunting an old castle somewhere, not watching him play on Top of the Pops!”

Susie’s eyebrows lift with curiosity, “How can you still play if you can’t touch anything?”

“Vibrations. Music’s all just vibrations. I’m energy, vibrations are energy, I am the music.”

“That’s so… poetic.”

Steve’s outline shimmers in a spectral blush and he ducks his head bashfully.

“What he means is, he waves his hands over the strings and noise comes out,” interrupts Phil, sprawled across the seat on the other side of the aisle. “Ooh, is that how you two…? Vibrations, heh heh heh.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “That’s for amateurs. Astral projection. Everyone’s the same on the astral plane.”

“One of the great secrets of mysticism and you two are using it for a quick shag?”

“Why not? It’s what everyone else is using it for!” Cassie reaches out and flutters her fingers through her boyfriend’s hazy forearm. There is a little shower of purple sparks, and he giggles. “The vibration thing is more ticklish than sexy anyway.” 

“Your own personal theremin!” exclaims Susie delightedly, then claps her hand over her mouth in fear she has inadvertently been rude and spectrophobic.

Cassie laughs, “I’ve always thought more a plasma lamp, but that works too.” She runs her fingers along the glowy plane that is Steve’s thigh and he responds with a spooky howling noise. “Awesome! New game!”

Just then the bus door opens with a hiss, and a stack of precariously balanced pizza boxes floats up the steps. Susie’s mouth drops open in surprise, but when no one else reacts, she remembers. This must be Rick. The boxes and assorted bags are dumped down onto the table.

“So we’ve got Meat Feast with extra rare steak for Phil, Hawaiian for Joe and Susie - I can’t believe you’ve found someone who shares your heretical taste in pizza! And two veggies for the rest of us.” An invisible hand starts delving into the bags. “Plus dips, cheesy bread, hard-boiled egg for Gloria…” This is tossed to Cassie who starts to crumble it into Gloria’s bowl, “and Lucozade for Steve.”

“Mmm, sugar.”

“And… funny - I don’t remember getting Doritos?”

The bag of chips flickers, then transforms first into a head of lettuce, then a carriage clock, then a chicken, and finally into a girl with blonde curly hair perched on the edge of the table. 

“Sorry babe, I was tired, didn’t wanna walk.”

Ignoring the muttered ‘cheeky cow’ from her disembodied boyfriend, she sticks out her hand, “Kate, and you must be Susie?”

Susie nods and, somewhat gingerly, shakes the proffered hand, fearful that it could become something else any second. 

Kate reaches over to the counter, picks up a red baseball cap, and places it on Rick’s head. “Bus hat,” she explains to Susie, “stops us from bumping into him all the time.”

A small frown creases Susie’s brow, “So… we can see the hat, but not the rest of his clothes?”

There is a chorus of snickering from around the table.

“Um, that’s something it’s best not to think about too much, love,” replies her boyfriend with a sly grin.

After a beat, Susie’s eyes widen, “OH!”

“I know,” agrees Cassie. “We’ve told him it’s not hygienic but…”

“Hey, I wash!” protests the baseball cap.

“And also one of the reasons he resists all my offers to try and turn him back.”

“Why would I want to go back? This is ultimate freedom. And I get into movies for free.”

“How did you… if it’s not rude to ask?”

“Accident involving an Etch-a-sketch, a microwave oven, and a cursed tamborine.”

“Should’ve read the instructions.”

“Cursed objects don’t tend to come with a manual, Joe.”

“I meant the microwave. Rick turning invisible was a minor inconvenience, having to explain to the landlord why the microwave was now glowing bright orange and playing ‘Daydream believer’ on a constant loop was more of a problem!”

Kate’s hand is dragged sideways in front of Joe’s face and all the fingers, except the middle one, folded down by an unseen hand.

“Get off! Do your own swearing, weirdo!”

“I guess there are occasional downsides,” mutters Rick.

The door wheezes open again and the sickest looking person Susie has ever seen shambles onto the bus.  

“Evening girls and ghouls. If we’ve got everyone now, shall we make a move?”

Joe does a quick head, or hat, count. “Yep, all present and correct. Thanks Bert.”

“Driver,” he explains to Susie.

“Zombie,” adds Phil.

“Oh yeah, sorry, forgot to tell you that one. He’s great, doesn’t need to sleep so we can travel 24 hours a day if we need to.”

“Except if he turns the wheel too vigorously, he tends to pull an arm off and we have to get out the sewing kit!”

“A small price to pay for getting to gigs on time.”

“And the, err, brains thing?”

“Oh don’t worry, apparently Wendy’s burgers are just as good. Which is worrying if you think about it.”

Apart from occasionally getting distracted by the sight of a slice of pizza floating in mid-air before disappearing bite by bite, and Steve’s drink seemingly evaporating, the level going down without the glass moving an inch, Susie finds herself almost forgetting that these new friends are anything out of the ordinary. She even stops registering the thrum and sway of the bus as Bert, presumably all limbs still attached, steers them safely towards the next city. The rest of the evening passes in drinks and friendly banter and a card game which is acrimoniously abandoned after it is discovered that Kate had only pretended to go to the bathroom and had in fact transformed into an extra ace, giving Rick a winning hand three games in a row. Eventually the day-people start to yawn and the group reluctantly concedes that it is time to retire for the night. Only Phil, tending to nocturnal even during the non-transforming parts of the lunar cycle, expresses a wish to stay up, but he promises to play his guitar quietly, and no howling. As the others say their goodnights he reminds them that someone needs to put Gloria to bed.

“No worries.” Joe picks up the bowl and Gloria makes a grateful kissy face at him through the glass. 

In the sleeping area, where one of the sets of bunks should be is a large welded metal box with a lid. The faint purr of a filtration pump comes from within. Joe levers up the corner of the lid and, as gently as possible, pours the angelfish in to join her mate. He wishes the couple goodnight before snapping the lid closed again.

“How did you even get a tour bus with a giant built-in fishtank?”

“Surprisingly easily. The company that did it had just done one with a sensory deprivation tank for Peter Gabriel, so they didn’t even question it. It’s more difficult to explain why our rider includes 800 gallons of purified water!”

In the close confines of the bunk area, Susie can see why Rick’s visibility hat is an essential; it’s hard enough to navigate through the narrow corridor with random bits of luggage scattered about and the floor strewn with odd socks and guitar picks, without adding an invisible person-sized obstacle to the mix. She makes sure to know where the drummer and his partner are before entering the tiny communal washroom, but still finds herself eyeing the shelves full of toiletries warily. 

This is Susie’s first tour bus experience and it reminds her of camp. If cabins vibrated. And had snoring, farting, musicians in them. She’s still trying to get to sleep when suddenly a flash of purple shows around the edges of the curtain and there are two mingled screams, quickly muffled.

She clutches at Joe’s shoulder. “What was that?” Joe, half-asleep, just mumbles an unintelligible ‘mmpf’. “That. The flash, and the screaming!”

Joe wraps an arm around her. “Don’t worry about it. You see how small these compartments are? Well to get more space, Cassie sleeps on the bed and Steve hovers up by the ceiling. But his altitude control isn’t great when he’s asleep, so sometimes he drops down onto and, well, into, Cassie. And apparently a sudden unexpected full-body… smush… isn’t pleasant for either party.” Susie, remembering the prickly feeling when her hand brushed Steve’s arm, can believe that. “They used to have a top bunk, but one time, when he was drunk, he fell all the way through to Phil on the one below, which no one enjoyed, so now we make them have one of the lower berths.”

“I didn’t know ghosts could get drunk?”

“Sure they can. Why do you think they’re called spirits!”

Susie groans. Shifting her limbs once more to try and find a comfortable position in the cramped space she has a thought, “Can you do that? Hover?”

“Sadly no. Swoop, soar, glide, no problem. But no hovering.”

When Joe had first revealed that his bandmates also each had their own special talents and features, he’d been quite dismissive of his own gift, thinking it mundane compared to the others. But Susie had assured him it is just as impressive, plus useful - for example not needing the stairs if the lift’s broken - and also noting that it has the benefit of being minimally inconvenient and easy to hide.

“I mean, poor Rick can’t even see his feet to put his boots on, and Phil has no choice about growing fur and howling at the moon…”

“To be fair, he did that before he was a werewolf too.”

“... but you just have to remember not to jump off tall buildings when anyone’s looking. It’s an amazing talent with no downside, you’re so lucky!”

“I guess if you put it like that. Just, if you’ve always been able to do something, it doesn’t seem so special.”

“It seems special to me. You literally swept me off my feet!”

“Well you were going to get hit by that lighting truss.”

“You’re basically Superman!”

“Without the tights.”

“That could be arranged…”

When Susie wakes she finds she is alone in the bunk and the bus has stopped moving. Low-voiced conversation, interspersed with giggling, is coming from Steve & Cassie’s compartment, but most of the other curtains are pulled back. Stepping carefully to avoid treading on any items that might unexpectedly turn out to be Kate, she makes her way to the front lounge and finds Joe and Phil noodling on a couple of acoustics and drinking tea. Looking out the window, the bus seems to be parked in a mostly empty car park next to a big grey box of a building. 

“Morning guys. Where are we?”

“Morning, love. Err, Tennessee? No… err? I don’t know. They’re all starting to look the same.”

“Nowheresville, Arkansas,” supplies Phil, pausing his strumming to wave vaguely at the bottom half of the tattered map pinned to a cupboard door. 

“Sounds exciting. Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Sure, Bert topped up the tanks when we got here. Or you can go across to the venue - probably communal but the water will be hotter.”

“I think I’ll cope.”

“I’d join you but I can only get in that little box if I crouch down.”

“But I’d fit just fine!” offers Phil, waggling his eyebrows.

Susie, not the tiniest bit tempted, ignores him and heads back through the bunk area, where she encounters Sav, dripping wet and wearing nothing but shorts and a towel turbaned around his head having just emerged from his tank. He’s carrying Gloria in her bowl under his arm. Not a morning person at the best of times, he looks confused by her presence until a few glubbing noises from Gloria remind him, 

“Oh, of course, Susie. Nice to finally meet the girl Joe will not shut up about!”

She notices that the hand raised in greeting has slight webbing between the fingers, but apart from that and the almost imperceptible lines of gills either side of his neck, he looks entirely, and indeed very nicely, human-shaped. She’s not sure what she was expecting - scales and fins maybe? In the mythopedia of Def Leppard, the entry for Sav would be frustratingly short - no one knew, and he wasn’t telling, how his particular condition had come about. When asked, Joe had just shrugged and said the bass player had always been amphibious. 

Blushing at both the expanse of bare bassist skin and the gratifying thought of Joe raving about her to his friends, she responds, “Good to meet you too. Say, you haven’t seen Rick around have you?”

Sav grinned, “No, not for about five years!”

“Duh, stupid question! I meant… I’m going for a shower and I just wanted to check…”

Sav reaches up to the shelf above his tank. “He might have gone shopping with Kate.” He hands her a golf club, “But wave that around when you go in, just to be sure.”

After a, thankfully, drummer-free shower, the rest of the day passes in preparations for the gig that night. It seems there are extra challenges to putting on a show where none of the participants are quite what they seem. In addition to the usual issues of poor acoustics, broken bulbs, and missing cables, Sav needs to be periodically misted with water to keep his skin moist, Steve keeps walking through amps and fusing the electrics, and someone needs to watch Phil and stop him from chasing any squirrels in the vicinity. The crew however are unflappable and manage all these problems as if they are entirely commonplace (to Susie’s mind, some of those guys also look like they might be of the supernatural persuasion, but then bloodshot eyes, growling, and eyebrows that meet in the middle seem to be pretty standard even for fully-human roadies!). By 6pm, everyone is ready and everything is tested and in its place. The support band appear for their soundcheck at 6:30pm, and the reason for their absence during the day is obvious even to Susie’s unpractised eye. Vampires. She hangs around for a while to watch - they’re pretty good, and surprisingly lively considering they just woke up - before leaving them to their monitor adjustments and complaints about the lingering smell of garlic from the catering truck.

When Susie pops down to the dressing room to wish her boyfriend good luck for the show, she finds him practising his singing in the showers, his feet just slightly leaving the floor during the high notes. The other guys are variously warming up on their guitars, picking at the buffet, or fussing with their hair. To be honest, that last one is just Sav - apparently spending 12 hours a day under water gives you terrible frizz! Susie watches with interest as Cassie casts an energising spell for the boys, and then a protection spell for all the performers and crew. ‘Just in case’, she says. Leaving their partners to carry out their final preparations and pre-show rituals, all the girls head out to the auditorium. Well, all the girls except Gloria, who doesn’t enjoy all the jostling from the crowds and so is safely ensconced in the tech booth with Phay.

The support band are just finishing their set and seem to be going down okay with the crowd. At least three-quarters of the audience are clapping and swaying along, but they’re interspersed with tough-looking blokes in trucker hats and dirty denim standing with folded arms - maybe they’re not keen on men in spandex and eyeliner? 

Susie had seen Leppard perform a couple of times before, in her pre-Joe life, but always way up in the nosebleeds, never this close to the stage. When the curtain drops, her eyes of course go straight to her boyfriend. He is absolutely in his element, strutting and preening and bouncing around the stage like he owns it. Which, effectively, he does! Phil, who apparently has not learned a single lesson from being turned into a werewolf by a resentful one-night stand, is flirting with all the women in the front three rows; the idiom ‘once bitten twice shy’ means nothing to him. Sav is also turning on the charm, slinking around the stage with a sinuous gait that makes Susie wonder if his origin might be more eel than fish. With the smoke machines and the lights, Steve looks somewhat ethereal but real enough and, even from right in front of the stage, you can’t tell that he’s not actually touching the strings. And then Rick, poor Rick, who used to play in nothing but the tiniest of shorts and drum gloves, but now has to wear trousers, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and, most annoyingly, a wig and make-up, just looks really hot, with sweat already pouring off him after the first few songs.

After the final encore, the girls make their way backstage, arriving at the dressing room at the same time as an agitated member of venue staff who comes running from the opposite direction.

“Guys! You’ve got to get out of here! Fast! Some of the locals… they’re turning nasty… they… they know what you are.” 

He gestures in the direction of Rick, currently appearing as just a pair of socks and a towel, and Steve, looking more like a cliché haunted-house ghost than usual as his outline fills with the cigarette smoke that Cassie is deliberately wafting in his direction. 

“Shit, not again.” Joe immediately leaps into action - literally, as he covers the length of the changing room in a half-jump, half-swoop - “Sav! Get out of the shower!” he yells, “We’ve got an angry mob incoming!” Casting his eyes around the room, he realises someone’s missing, “Where’s Phil?”

“Where he always is after a show - humping someone’s leg!” says Rick’s disembodied voice.

“I swear to god one day I’m going to get him neutered. Right, I’ll go find him, be ready to leave when we get back.” On his way out the door he pats Susie, who’s still standing frozen to the spot, on the shoulder, “Stay with Cassie, okay love. You’ll be fine.”

Cassie smiles a tight little smile, “Start packing, I’ll explain.” 

With Steve keeping watch in the corridor, the girls join Rick and Sav in speedily stuffing clothes into duffel bags and guitars into flight cases. 

“When people realise we’re… unnatural is the word they tend to use… it doesn’t tend to go down well. They get pretty keen on us leaving their town - think villagers storming the castle with pitchforks.” She looks up at Susie’s now-pale, wide-eyed face, “It’s okay, we’re good at fast exits, and Bert’s a great getaway driver!”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“No, just occasionally, in the smaller, more rural places. We usually get away with it because people think it’s a gimmick, smoke and mirrors. You’d be amazed how many of the supernaturally-abled are hiding in plain sight in bands, theatre, circus acts, and magicians of course.”

“What, like… David Copperfield?”

“Wizard.”

“Siegfried & Roy?”

“Not wizards. Least, I don’t think so. A wizard probably wouldn’t get eaten by his own tiger!”

“Joe and Phil are coming,” announces Steve, sticking his head through the dressing room wall, “are we nearly done?”

“Just about,” answers Sav. “Sorry about this sweetheart, it’s just ‘till we’re safely on the bus,” he consoles Gloria as he pours her into a plastic bag, tightening the knot with his teeth. 

Errant guitarist retrieved, and with Rick, hopefully safest of all of them in his invisibility, leading the way, they set off quickly but cautiously through the labyrinth of corridors towards the back exit. Before they even reach it they can hear shouting and someone banging on the door. 

“Quick, this way. I’ll take you to the loading bay. Your bus is waiting there.”

It is the same venue employee who came to warn them earlier. As they follow behind him, Susie thinks she catches sight of a rather more pointed than usual ear half-hidden under his hair and understands why he is so eager to help them. She hopes whatever strategies he’s using to stay hidden are enough to keep him safe in this troubled town.

Suddenly she remembers something,“What about Eternal Blade? Surely they’re a bigger target than any of us?”

“They were already on their bus and gone before we finished, off to make some new friends in the nearest city with some sleazy late-hours clubs.”

“They say country people taste funny!” quips Rick.

When they reach the cargo exit, Steve pushes his face through the roller shutter and surveys the scene outside. Bert has parked as close as he can get to the exit, but there is still about 75 yards of semi-open ground to cover; Any closer and the bus would be trapped if the crowd blocked the access ramp. He can’t see any people, but he can hear the clamour of a discontented crowd from the other side of the building.

“Coast’s clear,” he reports, “for now.”

“The door’s quite loud, so I’d make a run for it as soon as you can get under it. Your crew are loading up in the next bay, so hopefully that’ll cover some of the noise.”

As everyone lines up behind the door, Sav turns back, “Thank you… we didn’t get your name?”

“Alvin.”

“Thank you, Alvin. You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’m used to it. I’ve been beaten up more often for being called Alvin than for anything else!” He presses the open button and the shutter starts to lift. “Good luck out there.”

It seems to take an hour of clanking and grating before the gap is big enough to duck through. Joe, who appears to have gone into SAS mode, barks ‘GO GO GO’ and they’re off, running as best they can given the amount of luggage they’re carrying. Alerted by the noise, a swarm of people is rounding the corner of the building and a shout goes up when they spot the fleeing band. Phil, guitar case and duffel bag strapped across his back, drops to all fours; Joe and Steve would probably be faster in the air than on the ground, but neither of them would dream of leaving their earthbound partners.

“Shit, this is worse than normal!” Joe glances back over his shoulder, "Baseball bats and shotguns!"

The short distance to the bus feels like a mile, but being tour-fit and terrified speeds their progress until at last they pile onto the bus, flinging bags and flight cases haphazardly ahead of them down the aisle, with Susie and Joe bringing up the rear. As soon as the singer has both feet on the steps, Bert slams the door shut and pulls out of the loading bay as fast as a rattly and overloaded old bus can accelerate. They careen across the car park, the large tank of water in their midsection causing a concerning degree of instability, dishes and cans of baked beans tumbling from unsecured cupboards. Clinging onto the partition behind the driver’s seat, Susie watches through the side windows as their pursuers keep chasing. She whips her head round when she hears Bert growl ‘shit!’ and steer the bus abruptly to the left. Through the windscreen she spots the source of his alarm and grabs Joe’s shoulder.

“Joe! There’s a gate!”

Phil lurches up behind them, “What’s going on? Why have we turned round?”

"Car park gate's shut, we can't get out."

“Fuck. Can we ram it?”

“In this thing? We’d be smashed to bits!” He glances back at the angry mob, starting to catch them up as they’re now going in a circle. “I’m going to have to go out there. Bert, can you open the door while we’re still moving?”

“Yup, got a safety override.”

“I’ll jump out, then you do another loop round while I open it.”

“Joe, no!”

“I’ll be fine,” his voice doesn’t sound as sure as he’s making out, “I can fly, remember.”

“They’ve got guns!”

“I’ll dodge.”

As the bus reaches the end of the car park and lurches round in the direction of the gate once again, Bert pulls on the two levers that’ll force the door to open. 

Eyes darting from the large and very solid-looking gate in front of them, to the armed vigilantes now almost within touching distance on both sides of the bus, to her frightened friends huddled in the aisle in their pairs, to her oh so brave but reckless boyfriend hanging halfway out of the opened door, Susie feels like she has never been so scared in her life; the panic is pulsing white-hot behind her eyes. As she turns back to the windscreen, she hears, no, feels, a crack and a flash of light like a firework going off right in her face. She hears a gasp from the driver and, almost in sync, ‘bloody ‘ell’ from Phil and Joe. When her vision clears, she sees that the steel bars that moments ago had blocked their way have sprung open. It takes a second for Bert’s undead brain to process the change, but then he stomps hard on the gas pedal and, with a screech of rubber on asphalt, the bus hurtles through the gateway and clear of the baying mob. 

After a moment when everyone is too busy falling over and grabbing onto bits of furniture to speak, there is a cry of ‘yessss!’ from Rick, and a ‘woohoo!’ from Steve. The sudden acceleration had sent him backwards into the fridge and his hazy hair is streaked with strawberry yogurt.

“God, I really thought we were a goner that time,” said Sav, looking round for a suitable receptacle to decant his girlfriend into. “What happened?”

Joe and Phil, the only passengers with a clear view of the event, look at each other blankly.

“I… don’t know…”

“There was a sort of… pulse…”

“And the gates just…” Joe makes an expansive gesture with his hands.

“Pinged open!”

Joe turns to Susie, “Did you see… hey, are you okay?” When there’s no answer he steers her to a seat and kneels down in front of her. “Babe?”

“I… I think… I think… I did it?”

“Did what, love?”

“The gates. The…” she makes the same Moses-parting-the-Red-Sea gesture, “Something came from here,” she points at her head, “and…out… and pushed the gates open!”

Cassie claps her hands together, “Telekinesis! Moving things with your mind. It’s a well-known phenomenon. Well maybe not so well-known,” she adds looking at the vacant expressions that surround her.

“Like a superpower?” asks Steve.

Joe turns back to his girlfriend, a delighted grin on his face, “Hear that? You’ve got a superpower!”

“I do?” she says with a slightly less certain smile back at him.

“Welcome to the family, love,” says Phil, leaning over to ruffle her hair.

-----------------------------

Apologies to all Arkansas residents and wearers of trucker hats and denim who aren't pitchfork-wielding rednecks!

[hexehaus]

About Me

Just some old crone. Grave dirt worn around my neck & Santa Muerte on my shirt.

I'm no pretty young thing. I've been around a long, long time. The only pack I run with are wolves. I spew every thought without a care, my mind is open like a bear trap. Once it closes, yer dead and bloody. Ha!! I'm not that mean spirited, but I mostly think of myself. Could be an opportunist, or maybe a sociopath. Dunno. I'm a complicated bird.

I'm married. Have a 24 year old physicist son named Aleister. Not after you-know-who, but rather a classical Scottish name I chose to please my ex. His middle name is mine - Wilhelm - after my German great grandpa.

My son is brilliant, though he inherited some family traits that I had wished very hard he wouldn't. Serious mental illness - though it can be easily controlled with medication. Mine is, but as others on my other blog know, I'm an electroshock patient.

Ppl nowadays don't know what that is. A procedure in which you are put under anesthesia and one or two (2 for me) electrodes are placed on your head. You then get shocked with 120-250 joules of electricity to cause seizures. This can cure depression. It did for me, when pills & therapy all failed. When I told my son about the joules of electricity that they used on me, he went completely silent for 2 minutes on the phone.

So, that is my baggage! Why do I spill the beans? So ppl understand the methods behind my madness. I had a lot of hospital stays (think "Girl, Interrupted," but not posh & elite) and got nothing out of those except fun arts & crafts therapy.

I always found a tag along too. Sometimes my roommate, but often not. Mostly men, older ones. The hospital staff hated this!! It made my 15 minute checks uncomfortable for them. Dunno why, i have a husband. I was just talking & joking with these fellas. 😂

Anyway, stupid illustrious past! I could probably write a autobiography, but I'm not full enough of myself to think that it would be of interest. It wouldn't be very saucy or hot, though this stuff burns very brightly. I'm a Venus in Capricorn. So is my husband. We have hard times describing what we wanna do together because we are both so reserved! We just have to DO! Lol! 😆 And we do!

I am a little manic, but it's good. There's a lot of uniqueness about this old Aquarius crone. My other blog is mostly about my necromancy practice, or rather my practice, Muerteria. I work with muertos, but one in particular. My sweet Rodolfo. I say this because he is sweet to deal with me!

I should probably say this in my other blog (nfumbewalk.tumblr.com). But something happened on my holiday night. My holiday day, Sensain, was on the 29th. It isn't based on pagan holidays or Christian ones, but i acknowledge the fading light and thinning of the veil. It is the dying time. Well indeed! I was in ritual and who appeared in my mirror, a regular glass mirror? Rodolfo's face - totally clear! I'd only seen it looking obscured or in shadows. HOLY shit! I finally saw him! I almost fainted. I wish i could draw. Rodolfo has been busy making noises too. Footsteps and its like I hear his clothing moving.

Muertera/o/ists wear the humble but mighty Amethyst because no matter how tough the energy that passes through it, it can be cleansed and charged with HTDE. And yes, grave dirt can cleanse your crystals!! The more you know...

My hypothesis, HTDE, or Highly Transmutable Death Energy™ it is called. It contains the spiral of life, or what some may call deoxyribonucleic acid (no spell check!) Or DNA. People contain DNA. They still do after death. Can a grave have DNA? No. But cremains (ashes) still *technically* do, even if you're burned, you can still identified. Crematories just put you in a pine box.

My hypothesis takes me deep into death and what surrounds ppl when they die, where they go, what they do, etc. If you like this stuff and my rambling here, nfumbewalk is for you! I'm just making a long one here as an example. Lol! 😊

My book on Muerteria is definitely gonna take some time! I'm researching the stores of knowledge that have been made to me by my spirit guide. Lorkane has given me so much to learn and has opened doors that I never would have imagined. This is NOT the same channeling like "Seth" from the 70's. Shit be coming true that he tells me!!

i talk at length about channeling both of my grandpa's. More on my other blog. I didn't know either of them. One died, and I met one of them at a young age, and he died right afterwards. They gave me detailed information that I knew nothing about. I researched online & found out it all existed. Never heard shit about Machinists or Grain Elevator Inspectors. He called my grandma an old hag and he said wanted to jet back to Missoula after WWII, but she got pregnant with my mom. 😅 Didn't know that. Lol! My other grandpa is where I got my gifts from. Ben. Cool grandpa, he calls it the Thorp Family Power. It originally was passed down to boys. My brother didn't get it. I did. Aleister, he's so sciencey I dunno. Kinda doubt it.

Lorkane has alluded to something happening during this part of the year. He said early October. Hmm.

Anyway, sorry for this long windy post. Back to spells & herbs!

M.M. 💖💀💖

[rainbowgod666]

This. This is a point that should be brought up as much as possible

Look, i get it. I was born in

F i v e

and my autism meant that i saw the world differenti as a kid. A girl wanted to play soccer? She looks kinda bulky. Lets put her in either defense or as a goalkeeper! Gay people? I mean its weird. But they're not harming anybody so whats the deal if theyre different?

And then i grew up

And my best life years were sweeped by COVID-19

I saw family memebers die or get ill, but mostly nothing bad happened

We all have our internalized trauma, im lucky 95% of it is just me looking at them and going "yeah i need to go to the psychiatrist" and the reaction is always "dude how much anxiety is there (points at me) and why?", its really healthy i swear

Started doing analysis on "adults" and the result was always the same

Constantly screaming regardless of mood. They look at your/others toys and go "so much money spent...". You try doing anything on the PC/Phone? Its harmful! But alas, they never explain why. And even when they do, they dont seem to "make a point", so to speak. You never know for WHAT theyre gonna get angry, but after all this time the protocol is the same: Assume they will get mad. They never do when they should anyway

Adults are almost "backwards" in a way. Maybe its my personal experiences but i LITERALLY almost cannot imagine for the life of me two adults talking WITHOUT screaming at eachother like dogs.

Its TIRING. Ok? Like yeah I gotta do homework and all that but after im done WHAT, exactly, should i do? Like i can do some errands to "get my ass up from that chair" (which kinda makes sense, luckily for them) but after that? "Draw a little bit" yeah sure, but heres the thing. ALL THE THINGS I WANNA DRAW ARE SET AS "WORK", im not "playing" anymore, no its classified as "work" so you finally

Shut Up.

This is why "the current generation" listens to you in any way. Because we all collectively want the adults to Shut Up And Sit Near Us While Were Playing. This isnt limited to families! Look at america in LITERALLY ANY WAY, even just- taking a fucking compass and figuring out Where Is America According To Where I Am, and what do you see?

Violence, and all scholars here at tumblr can attest to the "Violence for Violence is the Rule Of Beasts". We are DESPERATE.

The common Man is ANXIOUS when it shouldnt. Look at all those posts that say "we may be lazy pieces of shit, but to our ancestors we are all the highest of kings" and think to yourself: How, and i can't stress this enough, The Fuck did we end up like this? You may reference the "mouse utopia" experiment but other than that the material is pretty fucking sparse

We all have had those times at school with yugioh/bakugan/beyblade

Where are they now.

Huh?

...

E x a c t l y .

Not to reference H:TP, but we're sick and in pain. We literally cant do this anymore. Growing up was supposed to be either cool or Just A Thing That Happens. But now?

Its that one scene in rick and morty where theyre having a massive breakdown, and that scene describes how puberty has been going for what im guessing is Anybody Young Enough to Be Almost Out Of It. Its already annoying that youre more hormones than human at that point, but nowdays? The world is an endless tornado of crack crap and malfunctioning "head honchos" that might as well have no heads at all! Its the downward spiral that EmpLemon talks about (its kind of his thing anyway like mine is being an all-encompassing stain on all fandoms that i know of) and yet, AND YET-!

Nobody is doing ANYTHING ever. We have problems like inequality global warming and all that, and the supposed "best state" is contorting itself into the reason there is a Separation Of Church And State section in the "how to make a country" rulebook because they think that "undesirables" (either LGBTQ people or addicts that genuinely want some help) want to turn their children into undesirables

Ironic. The "think of the children" motto is exactly the one thing we shouldnt have done to those poor kids.

They will live sheltered, unhealthy lives where their every whim is fulfilled regardless of what it IS. And once they go out in the real world they will think the others are the weird ones just because they dont bow to them. Even more ironic is this entire thing boils over into the concept of the Karen. A hateful being that is entitled to everything, but alas she is just what happens when a spoiled child isnt "fixed"

Do we... deserve this?

Is humanity just THAT fucked up, or we still have a chance... no because- i have looked at america for a long time. The so called "patriots" are some of the foulest people imaginable, and yet the "debauched godless deviants" are just guys that are Plainer Than White Bread but oh they have a rainbow pin so theyre gonna go to megalovania super hyperspace radioactive hell or something

The chain is gradual and month-based

For adults is perfect child - whining teen - useless adult

"My childhood was so awesome. Kids today don't even know!"

Isn't a flex.

It's a lament.

More people should understand that.

[urdadthinksimfine]

Day 2

Checking that ilayda-girl out really bumped me. it made me feel very very worthless, old, like chances are over. thinking about the austrians, too, them they made it, now working in japan.

really stressing me out, i cant just try and go their way, right? in the end it wouldnt matter, they wanted to live in japan, and me too, so.. but still.. its not MY way of things, im not as confident as neither of them, i cant even have chill conversations with my family.. but maybe thats different too..

.

coming down a little bit tho. i am not her, nothing like her. i am that weird looking woman, no sense for fashion, weird body, horrible skin, very old but young looking face.

i am not like them, i just am not passionate about things. never was, actively.

but i remembered what i thought yesterday: all i can do is, being passionate now? like try start doing stuff, looking what it will do to me. im happy to feel comfortable sitting and spending time in the library these two weeks. thats a change that happened.

"do what you want, say what you want" yoongi and psy sang. "Haters gonna hate, players gonna play anyway".

do what you WANT. started to do and be passionate and active about what i WANT. thats maybe all i can do right now, not wondering about it will give me certain results.

.

walking past some haus der jugend, very small, old looking dude sitiing infront of it. i thought, if im older maybe id wanna do that. having that place, always open to young folks, giving them something, the motivation to spend their attention and time, dedicating it into something.

yes but i think id only be able to do that, if i was passionate about something myself. everything comes to that, regardless of the outcome and results and goals.

maybe thats what i need to do now:

find out how it is for me, to be passionate.

wondering about the outcome.. well maybe thats what i should do. be dedicated and aim high.

but aiming high.. ive always done that but without being active. if paralyzed me.

yesterday i found out about papa's and my impatience that paralyzed us. so lets focus and take the time thing take (TTTTT, 5T, hehe).

.

Tonight i remembered that the people from enaka hostel told me, that i could talk japanese when i was very drunk. so.. things that give me joy, that i might become actively passionate about:

japanese

korean maybe, its fascinating to me at least

rapping, singing, using my voice, always a desire

drawing sometimes still bubbles up

stories and ff as ventil and projection paper for ideas and desires

making insta art and tumblr blog for urmomthinksimfine, picture and photo editing in viby aesthetics and free writing poems

sport so my body becomes more elegant and dancing

.

using my room as a tumblr room to make me less paralyzed, had the vision yesterday of having huge long posters that i can write stuff on, huge style, maing my room mine finally somehow. maybe.. in some way.

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

homecoming

(A/N: I tweaked an old, unposted [on this blog] fic of mine for @multi-stann and her 1k writing event. I picked the smut prompt: "Love the taste of you, but I need more.”) :)

Warning: demon sex and desecration in/of a church. Please don't read if that offends you!!

SMUT AHEAD

Intoxicating dreams. The feeling of her mouth around his cock. His teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip. Heat racketing up his spine until all he knew was her. Wrapping a hand around her neck and feeding on her pleasure as he fucked her. Taking anything and everything she would offer him. He missed her. He missed her.

He...

Bucky jolted awake in the confession booth. Sweat dripped down his face, and he could still feel the flames of Hell licking his skin. He was hard in his slacks. Crossing himself absently, Bucky muttered a few prayers under his breath because this was happening again. He knew what it all meant. He has been away for centuries, but his past was finally catching up to him. The more vivid the dreams, the closer she was to finding Bucky. And the closer she was to finding Bucky, the more his true nature rose within him as his body fought against the angels' invisible chains. Bucky was hungrier than he had been in a long time, but the runes on his skin made him unable to leave the church, let alone go out and feed.

He checked his watch, and as he expected, it read 3:17 a.m. Bucky's heart thumped excitedly in his chest. He knew that she knew where he was. Finally, she had found him, and she would rescue him from this hell. He opened the door to the confessional just as she blew into the church, stalking nearer and nearer until Bucky could take her in for the first time in years. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered- wild and passionate with eyes that glowed from within. With each step she took, the floor cracked underneath her feet. Crucifixes clattered to the ground, and the stained-glass window shattered, raining colored glass down onto both of them. The statue of the Virgin Mary cried, and she grinned.

"There you are," she said, and Bucky could not take his eyes off of her.

"You found me," he croaked in the language he never forgot, no matter how many beatings he took.

"You’ve been calling out to me for ages, but your jailers kept you well-hidden. Even my father couldn't see you."

"They summoned me," said Bucky bitterly. "They summoned me, an' they stole me as a barginin' chip."

"If they think they can stop this, they're wrong. It is only the beginning. My father has gathered his troops. I asked him to wait until I found you. Lord Belial wasn't happy with me, but I came for you anyway. "

Bucky squirmed at the innuendo, his gaze dropping to her mouth. His stomach rumbled, and she must have heard it because she smiled. He reached out for her, and she threw herself into his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing her in.

“You do remember me, don't you?” she asked, sounding vulnerable in a way he would never expect.

“How could I ever forget my baby?" Bucky asked.

"How come you haven't left this church if you remember me?"

"The runes." He gestured to the symbols carved into his skin. "I can't leave."

"You can leave if the angels who created the runes are dead."

"What did you do?"

"They gambled away their vessels, and I burnt them to a crisp," she said, baring her teeth. "It was a fitting punishment, Father said. If they thought they could take away what is mine, they were wrong if they thought they could hurt you without retribution. They deserve worse than what I gave them."

"You-"

"You're free, Bucky," she said firmly, placing her hands against his cheeks. "What will you do now?"

Bucky kissed her, and it was like slipping a key into a lock. He had forgotten almost everything about his old life, except for her, but she saved him and was now giving everything back. He vividly remembered Hell again, remembered how it was not as dreadful as the angels brainwashed him into believing it was. It was his home. It was hellhounds and halls of crystals glittering in the low lamplight. It was decadent food that demons didn't need but ate anyway. It was her naked in his bed, waiting for him to return from corrupting souls on Earth. It was sex all the time, whenever Bucky wanted. She was as insatiable as he was.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“It's been so long,” Bucky replied, pawing at her greedily. “I need ya right the fuck now. I'm starvin.'”

“Remember when we fucked in that church in Romania? Right under the statue of their precious Mary?” she asked.

“Hell, I’ve missed you."

As they kissed again, Bucky felt her heating up under his hands until tendrils of flame erupted from her skin. She pulled back, and Bucky saw her eyes alight with hellfire. He gathered her closer with a groan, knowing he would never get burned. She kissed him again, clawing at his hair as she swung herself into his lap. The confession booth swayed dangerously, but both ignored it. Bucky sunk his teeth in her bottom lip, and she snarled, scraping her nails over his scalp in retaliation. They pulled apart to blink at one another, then she dove to take off Bucky's shirt. Her fingers burned his skin so good, leaving red streaks that would fade quickly. Bucky could feel it crawling under his skin again, the hunger for sex that he hadn’t felt in ages. He wanted; he wanted to feed off of her pleasure and make her scream.

“I see those pretty black eyes,” she said, drawing Bucky’s gaze from her bare chest. “I knew they wouldn’t succeed.”

“Missed you,” Bucky growled, sucking her jaw so fiercely that he drew blood, “Take yer panties off for me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

She dug her nails into his pecs- a warning. Bucky rolled his eyes as he carried her out of the confessional and into a booth.

“Please take off yer panties. Sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay, darling, whatever you say," she replied.

“Disgusting. Don't ever call me that again. An' take your fuckin' panties off, huh?"

“You're such a dick."

"Hey, leave me alone! It's been two hundred years."

She shoved Bucky’s shoulder, trying to push him off of her enough so that she could wiggle out of her bottoms. Bucky ignored her unspoken command. He grabbed her wrists and slammed her arms over her head.

“Keep ‘em there," he said.

“How am I expected to take my underwear off? Think things through, will you?” she said.

“Yer bein’ unusually bratty today.” Bucky wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. “Ain’t had anyone put you in yer place for a while, I guess.”

“Oh, please. My father is one of the seven kings of Hell. If anything, you should submit to me. I remember how much you liked it when I made you beg at my feet like a hound."

“It's been decades since I’ve had ya underneath me. Now that I have ya, I ain’t just gonna give that up so willingly. Stop bein’ a brat."

“For Baal's sake, just do something instead of talking about it."

“No swearin’, we’re in church,” Bucky said. “An’ keep yer arms above yer head. No touchin.’”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“An’ shut that mouth a’ yours too. You don’t want me to gag ya, do you?”

"Who the fuck has been going around and telling lies saying I wouldn't like that?" she asked with a smile.

Bucky softened. He knew he was probably looking at her like a dumbass, but she was so beautiful and here for the first time in a long time. Bucky wouldn't want his first feeding session in centuries to be with anyone else. If a beast like him could love, he was sure he would love her.

"Missed you," Bucky said softly, tucking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and stuffing them in her mouth. "So much."

"Missed you too," she mumbled.

"Did you make 'em suffer?"

"You know I did. They hurt you."

She said everything he needed to know in just seven words. His hunger overwhelmed him, and Bucky blacked out until all he could see was her. Flames tickled him as Bucky leaned down to kiss a fiery trail down her stomach. She growled at him in an ancient tongue, and the foundations of the church shook at her words. The statue of Mary cracked in two the louder her words got, but Bucky ignored it, not content on just eating her out- he wanted her screaming. But she was a hard one to please. Bucky could rarely get her to scream when he ate her out, no matter the amount of coaxing he tried.

"Love the taste of you, but I need more," he said, his tongue flicking over her clit. "We still gotta topple that statue."

"Come up here and fuck me. It's been so long."

Bucky left the plush comfort of her thighs and made his way up her body, pressing kisses along the way.

"I know it has, babe," he said, kissing her forehead in a display of comfort that they were both unaccustomed to. "But I’m here now, an’ nothin’ can pull me away from ya again, you hear me?”

"I'll kill anyone who tries," she said.

Bucky grinned sharply. "That's my girl."

"Not yours," she countered.

"No?"

He reached down and drew her legs up around his waist. She locked her ankles together, holding him there so tight he could not move, not even to get inside her. He growled, trying to break free.

"I'm not yours," she repeated.

"If you fuckin' think for one second you ain't mine, you're wrong."

"I'm a fucking demon. No one owns me."

"Never said 'owns.' I said mine. Now, you gonna lemme fuck you or not?"

"No. How is it different?"

Bucky groaned, dropping his head onto her chest. He pressed a few kisses at her breast, bit her nipple.

"C'mon, gimme a break. I'm starvin.'"

"No, not until you tell me."

"Fuck's sake. You're mine, an' I'm yours, okay? An' I don't wanna feed on anyone else, ever again. You're enough for me."

"Okay."

"You don't have to reciprocate."

"I put a war on hold, and I killed three angels to find you," she said flatly.

"Yeah," Bucky said, his vessel's heart fluttering. "You did."

She loosened her grip on Bucky, allowing him to slip inside her for the first time. His body shuddered in delight at feeling her again. He could taste her pleasure in the air, and his tongue flicked out to gather it from her lips as they kissed. Bucky knew he wasn't going to last long, but he would be (more) damned if he finished before she did.

"Come on, move," she said, her nails pricking his back.

The pace Bucky chose was brutal, and she moaned, arching her back. He remembered now the way she’d never utter more than a moan. No matter the amount of coaxing, Bucky could never make her scream. She had passed out from him fucking and feeding on her a few times, but even then, all he managed to get were a few calls of his name. It kept him desperate to please her even though she was the one feeding him.

"Go faster," she sighed, her head tipped back enough so that Bucky could get at her neck with his teeth.

"I gotcha, babe. Wan' my hand?"

"Yes, please."

Naturally, Bucky obliged. He wrapped one of his big hands around her neck, squeezing gently and then harder. Her mouth fell open against his as he fucked her, and they stayed like that, panting into each other's mouths. And Bucky wanted so much for someone to burst in and see them like this, see him fucking her into the ground and feeding off her desire.

He pulled out of her when he got an idea. She speared him with a glare, but he calmed her down, urging her to get to her hands and knees. Bucky smacked her ass, and she muffled a cry into her forearms. The flames on her skin burned hotter and hotter the more Bucky spanked her until sweat was pouring down his chest. He gathered her hair up in his hand and dragged her up from the floor, curling a possessive hand around her throat. Flames licked his skin wherever her body was pressed to his. Bucky could feel it rising within her, and he gasped at the taste of it after so long without. It was the best drug in the world.

"C'mon, rub your clit for me, and scream when you come. You know it makes it taste better," he demanded.

"Make it worth my while, and I will."

"You wan' it? I'll give it to you," Bucky said, squeezing her neck until she was gasping. "Now, come for me. Gimme it."

It only took a couple more sweeps of her fingers over her clit and a quick kiss from Bucky for her to come. He kissed her to muffle her screams, drinking her down, thirsty for everything she could give him. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, his eager pants ringing around the church.

"Again, again, gimme one more. So hungry, babe, you taste so good," Bucky panted.

It didn't take long for her to come again, and Bucky fed on her, moaning as he felt her slipping down his throat. He licked his lips and pushed himself entirely inside her, holding still until she triggered his own orgasm.

"That's a good girl," Bucky cooed, kissing her to get the last of her orgasm.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, looking upside down at him.

He snuggled closer. "Yeah."

"Are you pulling out or what?"

"Nah, wanna stay here for a minute or two. Missed this. So happy y'found me. You saved me."

"I always will," she said, scowling.

Bucky laughed, burying his face into her hair.

"How's Hell, anyway?"

"It's good. Will you come back with me?"

"I'll go anywhere you want me to."

"We'll get those runes off your skin."

"'Kay, but later. I'm still ravenous," said Bucky.

She grinned, all sharp teeth and fire in her eyes.

"Come on, then. Let's go to a real bed."

"Lead the way," said Bucky, flipping the bird toward the Mary statue that lay shattered on the ground.

[thishintoflove]

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows