#anyways i wanna draw and do fun stuff but i come to work tired and want to instantly go to bed

[miumiins]

When do you plan to draw Gaius x Robin again ?\>////</

mahalo 🤗

[hardrockshrimp]

[theyapper0]

HAZBIN HOTEL REDESIGNS!!!!

I recently watched Hazbin Hotel for the first time! I've never been into it before, and I vaguely remember it when the pilot first came out years ago but I never even watched THAT!!

It's not............. the best show ever BUT I HAD FUN WATCHING IT!!!!!! I mainly like it bc I love Catholicism and the bible SOOOOO I'm rewriting it and I'll be posting ALL MY IDEAS!!!!!! (Ppl are gonna hate it LOL)

Close-ups + notes are under the cut :)

CHARLIE: OK SO I basically got rid of all the goat stuff that she (didn't) have going on ASIDE from the hooves hahaha, I didn't draw them here but she still has those bc I think they're COOL

So taking inspo from the fact that Charlie's design was based off porcelain dolls and marionettes, Charlie is LITERALLY a doll come to life!!! Lucifer and Lilith, bc they couldn't naturally conceive a child (bc Lilith is dead + is known to be responsible for the death of newborns), basically just made a child-doll and gave it life with their demonic magic!!!

I ALSO WANT CHARLIE TO CONSTANTLY BE TEETERING THE LINE OF LOOKING CREEPY AND FUCKED UP!!!! She's literally a living doll, I need ppl to look at her sometimes and be unsettled (sheep in wolf's clothing)

VAGGIE: Like Charlie, I'm completely throwing the animal (moth) motif that Vaggie (supposably) had. I'm mainly leaning more into Hotel Manager/body guard. WELCOME TO THE GUN SHOW!!!!!!

Honestly, I've changed Vaggie's design over 4 times and it's subject to change STILL. I gave her a cloak bc I think it's epic and I think she's epic and you'll be seeing her in future posts with what her outfit looks like without the cloak, it's a sleeveless collared shirt and she's got long fingerless gloves on :) AND THE CLOAK IS ALSO THERE BC I THINK SHE'S EDGY!!!! She's edgy and emo and amazing

I WAS gonna make her with awesome battle scars but then I remembered that angels can only be harmed with angelic weapons so :(((( no hot scars

ANGEL: MY ANGEL DESIGN IS NEVER CHANGING!!!!!! I have no notes, I think I'm in love with my Angel.

I heard somewhere that Angel in cannon has one black sclera and one white one bc he died with a black eye sooo..... He died with 2 black eyes LOL!!!

I didn't wanna give him prominent wrists and ankles bc I thought it looks cute :3

HUSK: He's a tuxedo cat, I think they're adorable and I think Husk is a 70 year old man who should be adorable. And NO BOW TIE!!!! I'M TIRED OF EVERY CHARACTER HAVING ONE!!!!

He's a frazzled drunk who's still Alastor's pet LOL

ALASTOR: I took a lot of inspiration for Alastor's design from Dr. Daddy-o, a radio DJ/host from New Orleans in the 1940's!!! I LOVE his voice and I wanted to base Alastor off of a BLACK RADIO HOST bc he's you know, BLACK!!!!!!!! Idk who that white boy is in cannon

He and Charlie are tied for the tallest in the cast, they're the same height (not counting his antlers)

I wanted to make Alastor look pretty human looking, aside from his antlers and deer ears ofc bc I don't think he needs to look scary all the time, he usually uses his words to provoke ppl anyway (and if that doesn't work THEN he'll use force) (Wolf in sheep's clothing)

NIFFTY: Niffty's design is based off Rosie the Riveter (WE CAN DO IT!!!!) especially with her her top, her hair and her headband/bandana.

I also made her taller than she is in cannon bc she's not the kind of character that the audience or even the other characters take seriously so in my head adding a couple inches to her will make me take her more seriously LOL

[sakasakiii]

Hi!

I love your work!! Your art is very pretty. Do you have a specific idea of how old everyone is ? Do you lean more towards canon or do you have your own dates in mind ? If don’t wanna a answer it’s ok!

Hope u have a nice day

(Remember to drink water!)

hiiii nonnie!!! thank you for checking in, and im happy u like the stuff i put out!! when it comes to ages, it's difficult to answer sometimes bc of the way professor tolkien's timeline is-- it makes gauging one singular place where most of the cast can be compared something that makes my tired brain go 😵🤧🤕 but i love the prompt youve given! and thus heres my attempt at it

with most of my tolkien stuff, i always try to stick to canon wherever possible emphasis is on try lmao and the topic of ages is one such place. i do make exceptions to the Professor's canon sometimes for a few reasons: 1) i like some of the scrapped ideas in his drafts, or 2) i just prefer other options. with ages, i think the only charas with canon-established ages i deviated from are fingolfin, finrod, turgon, and aredhel. i try to keep cases like these minimal tho, so i hope it doesn't bother anyone too much... 👉👈

anyways i figured just dropping a list of numbers would be kinda boring to look at so heres an illustrated guide to what the ~rough~ ages of the finweans are in my head whenever i write or draw. Y.T. 1495 (the year Finwe dies) is the controlled medium ive used to enable a fair comparison of the Finweans

note: "born Y.T. xxx" means this is the canon date of birth listed on Tolkien Gateway. "est. born [xxx]" means this is a noncanon estimate:

the First Age gets a lot more muddled from there due to the hullaballoo of everything going on, so ill only be including the doriathrim and a few other denizens of nargothrond:

it's mostly the older elves that are more undefined/vague with their ages (i.o.w. others like elwing, earendil, the peredhil twins, and most Men all have set dates of birth), so they're all i'll be doing for now. but it's that vagueness which makes hcing all the more enjoyable, isn't it! plus since we’re on this subject, under the cut are just a few headcanons and musings ive had that i wanted to put somewhere 😙

Finarfin and Earwen were born within months of each other! Finwe and Olwe made a Really Big Deal out of when they found out their wives were pregnant at the same time. As a result, the two were often sent on many playdates with each other to “bolster healthy relations” between the Noldor and the Teleri. It wasn’t an arranged marriage situation, but I like to think they were goofy for each other from the start… Resulting in the two eventually getting married as soon as they came of age, the fastest out of all of Finwe’s kids to do so. 

The reason the Ambarussa are significantly younger than the other Finweans (especially the Feanorians-- there’s a 100 Valian year gap between them and Curufin alone!) is because I imagine they were accidental babies that even Feanor didn’t expect to conceive. too bad morgoth said "its morgin time!" and started Messing Things Up shortly afterwards.....

Anaire was Lalwen's good friend long before she married Fingolfin; they met through Lalwen who wingmanned Fingolfin the whole time. i like think Anaire'd be the best out of all the wives at keeping good, healthy bonds with all the women of her family :DD

luthien's potential 姐姐/big sis dynamic with all the younger doriathrim elves is something i daydream about a lot 😌 but sometimes the fact that she's older than finarfin keeps me up at night

this has been really fun, so thanks again for asking-- annnd yessir, i am chugging water as i write this so you better be doing the same ❤️ have a great start to your week!

[dokidokiliteraturegirls]

Everyone, Feel Less will be going on an indefinite hiatus!

I know you guys are super understanding never ask me for an explanation for these things, but I like to be transparent, so explanation why under the cut!

But here's a bullet list for people who don't have the time to read my whining:

Lack of time

There's a blackout in my area so I haven't had time to draw

I want to practice my art anyway

Please send me stuff to draw to practice in the meantime 💖

You see, I've actually had this hiatus planned for a while. I wanted to do it after Update #37 was posted, as Update #38 would require a lot of art and I needed time to do it. Update #37 was easy, it was only going to require 4 drawings, and I could work on them after work. Then, after a long, tiring week, and only one sketch done, I decided to delay #37 by one week. Post it on August 4th, after all I could work on it during the weekend and once again, after work. Then, after a week that involved a day with 3 hours of overtime, and the first ever wind storm in Santiago Chile that's left me in a blackout for 3 days (so far), I decided that maybe it was time to take that hiatus break I was waiting for.

Lack of time and and electrical current are only some of the factors why I wanna take a break though. Lately I've also been growing increasingly disappointed with the quality of my art. Which, like, is something every artist ever goes through, it's normal. But rushing to finish panels while also not liking how they look is not really gonna help with that. I'd like to take this break to hone the skills I've been lacking in, as I always want my comics to be a reflection of the best possible art I could make at the time.

So yeah! I wanna take a break to practice and take a little step back to catch my breath. If I can ask you all a favour, I think it'd be fun if in the meantime you could send little prompts or interactions with the characters that I could respond to with doodles~ I think it'd be a fun way to not leave the blog to gather dust and it'd also help me practice my art! Do be patient with me though, as, once again, I don't have electricity currently so who knows when I'll have it back. But I'd appreciate it!! I'll also probably be posting things in my art blog @yuiwrong, and once my power comes back, I'll go back to streaming on twitch. Yes, I'll plug those every single time I go on a break, and no, you can't stop me.

That's basically it. As usual, thank you all for your understanding. I'll always do my best to bring you the best I can make, and thank you for reading my comic 💖

[quinloki]

For the Self-Ship/OTP asks: 32, 33, 35, 42, & 57

Honestly, I'd say just pick any one or combo of blorbos you want. I don't think I have anyone in mind for these asks, I'm just curious across the board.

Oh my friend! <3 I love these questions and I love the ability just kind of pick and choose as I go through it <3 This is just what I think I needed today (I got more bad news T-T can you believe it? I didn't even get a full month I swear. I'm so tired of this year.)

32. Who’s the better story teller?

Marco - we’re pretty well matched, I think, but I also feel like he just enjoys listening to me talk. So he tends to prompt me to tell stories more than offer his own.

Kid - I think he’s taking notes so he can be a better story teller, but I definitely have him beat currently. XD he does make little metal characters based off my stories though, I almost want to give him the win just from that.

Sabo - he has practice regaling Luffy from their younger days, but the fact that Luffy and Ace were his primary audience shows xD lots of sudden monster appearances and epic battles.

Sir Crocodile- not one for story telling, but he’ll let me ramble about my ideas and daydreams. If I wanted to write professionally Ivan see him pulling out all the stops to support that.

Thatch - tends to build stories with me. He’s not the best on his own, but he always makes my stories better so I think he deserves the win on this one.

33. Who’s the better cook?

All of them have me beat. I might outdo Sabo by sheer luck, but we’re both barred from cooking after the last time 😅

35. Who’s more artistic?

Thatch is way more artistic than me. Especially in the kitchen, but base cooking skill aside his icing work is beautiful.

I’m more artistic than Crocodile, but I don’t think he cares to draw or paint. He might say he has artistry in the way he marks me >.>

I think Kid is an exceptionally detailed artist, but only if he’s doing schematics. I think he gets too caught up in his head to draw just to draw and apply those precision skills to portraits, but he’s definitely doing better than Sabo.

I don’t think Sabo can draw stick figures. ^^; I do think he has amazing color theory skills though - so if you can lay down line work for him he can bring it to life.

Marco I think is super artistic, but aside from doing detailed miniature paintings on bar coasters, he doesn’t do anything else. And he doesn’t really share/show off the coasters.

42. What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Everyone of them appreciates a nice blizzard and the “need” to stay cozied up so that no one gets too cold.

>.>

<.<

But MY favorite weather is a nice rolling thunderstorm. I’m bringing Marco and Crocodile around on it - especially if it gets incorporated into sexy times. Marco likes to use the thunder to cover the sounds of moans so that I can be louder without alerting the whole ship, and Crocodile likes the way the lightning dances against the jewels he likes to leave me in.

57. Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Sabo and I are a disaster when it comes to shopping. It’s all mad science and impulse buys. Koala provides a list and we don’t miss anything on it >.>

Marco “lets” me push the cart so he can fill it. … without my help ^^; (I mean, I can say “hey I wanna try this” it’s not like I get no say >.> )

Kid and I had an argument about tomatoes and are banned from several area grocers. Killer is better suited for it anyway, since he’s taking care of that stuff for the crew.

Thatch controls things for the most part, but he won’t stop me from putting whatever in the cart. It’s fun because I can pull him into my mad science and he helps keep it from being a complete disaster xD

Crocodile does not grocery shop. I’ve almost forgotten what a grocery store looks like with him in my life 😅

[alparlaboratories]

My OCs Masterlist

I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.

These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.

(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)

1)

Metchi

You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.

2)

Nico

He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.

3)

Tulip

‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.

4)

Hope and Hunter

These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.

5)

Ska

Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.

6)

Shadi

Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.

7)

Eatos

Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.

8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)

Shadi... 2!

Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.

9

Cole

PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.

10)

Machi

Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.

11)

Tala

Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.

Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.

No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.

[lukael]

it's venting time baby

tumblr still feels like the only place where I can actually properly vent, I don't wanna do it on my other platforms cause I feel like they're the more likely to get me commissions and I imagine hearing me say how much I fucking hate drawing isn't exactly good for business

and honestly I fucking hate that I can't actually say how I really feel in fear of not getting commissions, makes me feel like a FOOL but anyways

I do not enjoy drawing :)

I don't find it fun, I don't find it fulfilling, and I'm still fighting with myself over that fact, because I've been really happy since quitting my job 2 years ago, so it's easy to feel like it's because drawing makes me happier, but I really think it's just that I hate the idea of doing any other job EVEN MORE.

I don't think I'm good at it, I don't think I'm ever really gonna be great at it, and when Audrey asks me "why do you need to be great at it", I don't really know what to say. I don't have the answer. Trying to do something without being able to is just the most frustrating feeling in the fucking world, and it's something I'm putting myself through daily by pursuing art, like I'm just not good at it lol

so fucking tired of hearing people say "no you're totally good at it omg you're so talented!" like.... I APPRECIATE THAT, I really do, like yeah I can create moderately competent looking images on occasion, to some that's an impressive skill, or that's sufficient, cool. It's not good enough for me lol I would like to either: enjoy the process of drawing (I do not) or to create really great looking art (I do not)

bad enough that I hate it, but I also hate the process of having to constantly be looking for job opportunities with book companies, trying to advertise for commissions, never really getting enough to pay the bills for the month, like.... social medias are only getting more and more shit, so that's not helping, but even before that, I've never found any success online (probably cause the art sucks lol)

some days I'm debating just going to work at Subways or some shit, cause then at least I'd be making minimum wage lol which is a hella lot more than I'm making right now, but doing a student entry level job at 34 wouldn't be great for my morale I think lol plus I would hate that work too, so idk... call me lazy I guess, I just don't wanna work lol

Praying to the fuckin heavens every day that my channel can pick up in traffic so I can monetize it, cause even though I don't think I'm funny or interesting or entertaining in those videos, at least I have fun doing those. Getting to do this stuff full time would literally be a dream come true cause then I wouldn't be forced to fucking draw. I could actually like, maybe just draw for fun and somehow try to reconnect with what it is that led me to start drawing in the first place 30 something years ago

It sucks cause my parents are probably so proud of me when I say "hey guys I'm doing it I'm a freelance illustrator going on 2 years now!" I bet they tell their friends like wow look how my son is doing so well! not really knowing I've lost thousands of dollars of savings in those two years because I'm not making jack shit because I still price my commissions like I was 17 year old just starting in the damn art world

but I can't price comms any higher because A) I wouldn't get any and B) I can't in good conscience charge any higher for this garbage I'm making, I sure as fuck wouldn't pay that amount for the shit I draw. And that's with people not even knowing how much I hate it the whole time lol oh shit that's probably bad for business to say here too huhhhhhhhhh hey guys don't mind me my commissions are open, check my carrd for more info!!! :)

if anyone is unlucky enough to be reading this, probably thinking "luk if you hate drawing so much why not just do some other job" well see thats because I've painted myself into this fucking corner, and in my entire life have been so stubborn about drawing that I haven't amassed any other skill or interest, so there's no other job I could be doing, it just has to be this now, because I need to make money somehow so I can eat and pay rent, so might as well be with this thing I'm kinda sorta okay at even though it's fucking pulling teeth at this point

anyways

[niyanao]

love — a subject .

i hate talking about personal things like this !! (proceeds to talk about personal things like this)

but seriously, i don't think anyone reads my entries yet and i just wanna dump my feelings so this is my journal page and i do what i want ! anyways, here's my second journal entry, about my experiences with love and loss and everything in between <3

where i start is, who i am as a person. after all, why love something if you have no idea what it is right ? anyway, i've never been a very extroverted person, me being an introvert can be up to debate, but one thing, i'm horrible at speaking to strangers and people who intimidate me. i always preferred being comfortable with 1 person rather than having a friend group, and i guess that's where some of my love stems from. 

i've had four exes so far, though i could say all of them are wonderful people .

— my first love was an online relationship, she lived in davao and i lived in manila, despite us not being that close, it was very heartwarming. sadly, had to end the relationship because of her strict father and his religious beliefs preventing us from merely talking to each other. i would really love to relive that moment in my life again.

— one from a friend that i still know up until now, i liked the bond between us, but to my fault, i misinterpreted that as romantic and just a mere-coping mechanism to breaking up from the first relationship. i realized this and sadly ended my second relationship and i hurt him, to that, i'm still sorry.

— the third one, february this year. i never thought i could be loved. but i guess an inter-class soiree/prom-ish with another school made me believe otherwise again. i found her quite attractive and a fun person to talk to that we'd talk for hours about random stuff. worst mistake i ever made was to confess that i liked her that much on the same night where we first met, maybe i wouldn't be in a different position now. we were two busy students, but she always found the time to talk to me. now i feel like a horrible person because i barely took the effort to reciprocate that, even though i still loved her so much. i'm sorry, and i never wanted to use you.

— most recently, him. another dear friend of mine, he stuck by me through thick and thin, for the past 3 years. i was so hopeful and always pursued to be perfect, and tried my best to learn from past mistakes of my previous relationships to make this work because i really did love him, and i didn't want to lose him. he's a few years older than me, so pretty much more mature than any facade i can put up. i always loved the midnight chats, where we would talk while you were drawing, i would talk about my problems and you for yours. my heart still aches thinking about it, but the world doesn't stop because my world did.

how i wish everyday to be loved, instead of the person who loves. gosh, i'm so tired of love at this point, and i feel very drained whenever i think about someone i remotely like. other than relationships that came and went, i faced a lot of rejections from people either. despite my heart being crushed and broken countless times, i still continue to blindly fall in love with people. i want to constantly improve myself for the next person to come so that they feel warm and welcomed. but of course, why chase butterflies if you can build your own beautiful garden? a garden so beautiful you wouldn't need to chase butterflies anymore and still be at peace. i've learned so much from the people that i look up to, that i shouldn't really beat myself up that much. god, how stupid am i to give the same advice to my friend to not do that, even if i do that to myself a lot. it's always the fact that i have a hard time loving myself, i guess that's why i think it's hard to love me. 

i want to improve on that, even though it's natural for someone like me to continue doing that. i experience so much envy and dysphoria from day-to-day life that i've forgotten to look into the mirror and appreciate what's there. but i never had. i always see — her. a perfect me. beautiful, cute, smart. or what i want there to be.

but hey, with the help of some people, i've been trying to be at peace with what i am now, but i can't ever help feeling alone.

i really like this poem from my former english teacher. "when love arrives" by sarah kay and phil kaye really touched me because of so much heart-melting lines, like:

"If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, “Thank you. Thank you for stopping by.”"

— nao

[shinmiyovvi]

I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS (Also free reminder that you’re wonderfully amazing and I truly cherish you so much. You are one of my closest friends and are so very loved💖💖💖)

1. Are there any holidays coming up you look forward to?

2. What are your next project plans for your OCs?

3. Infodump a cool fun fact about the F/O currently on your mind

Awww, and I also cherished you too as well and never forget that we are here for you. You are also a great friend that I met here and you are also loved as well 💖💖💖💖

Anyways, let me answer each question

1. Actually no, all I'm expecting is school and a bunch of workloads to face with a lot of expectations and questions awaiting on my doorstep of what would be my course in college and my strand in senior. Although Christmas is around 5 months away and I know I never really celebrate Halloween that much but I'mma support you once you're gonna start off Halloween in a very early way possible.

2. I might be very tired and lazy, sometimes busy with enrollment, irl stuff, and grinding the whole season of Golden Kamuy but I may still continue on working with their reference sheets and information. For any future plans, maybe I would finally just went to do some work on my BOCW ocs and MW oc due to the fact that I am working on my Golden Kamuy Oc in which you will know her soon after once I get to finish coloring her ref sheet. I may also work on my self insert since I sometimes draw them once in a blue moon and would work on redesigning them. I wanna do Len and Art (Agarthan Arthur?) screentime since I have so many plans for these two. I would also try and make some oc x canon content even if it means crying over how hard Primis Nikolai's outfit can be :'>. I may also start posting more GK oc content with her being shipped with Tsurumi (cause why not?) and trying to practice how to draw each GK characters just in case if the time comes. I might also start making my Vinland Saga oc, but gotta need to work on my Viking history since I known only a little bit.

3. That one fun fact that would always be part of my heart is Tsurumi tends to play with his porcelain enamel plate while taking a bath. There is a small comic on the wiki page where he just lets the plate float on the water like a paper boat. Gotta love this unhinged yet handsome man 💖

[colubrina]

Hey I'm someone who follows you from back when I still read HP fanfic. I saw your response to the ask about inspiration and how you are lacking it. Firstly, I wanna say that I don't mean the following as a slight to the person who asked the question- its a good question, and it can be helpful/neat to hear the various places people draw inspiration from. But tbh I always thought inspiration is a bit over-rated and really fickle. Like I think most people are uninspired most of the time. (part 1)

(part 2) I think its important, that inspiration is often times just, not around. And generally, even when people are uninspired, they still gotta go do the things anyway. An artist friend who does commissions and such told me that. So I think its reassuring, kinda, that you do much the same things others do- get uninspired, shake up the schedule, try new things. Of course it sucks that you're struggling and I hope the inspiration comes back, but its still an important thing to acknowledge.

(super fast tacked on part 3) Sorry if that was all a weird thing to interject and obviously you know all that stuff already. I just wanted to say I have admired your writing for a long while now, and I hope you keep on doing what you do, and that I hope you do know that your experiences are normal, even if it doesn't help with feeling disappointed or tired in the moment.

----

Ah, thank you Anon! I agree with you that inspiration sounds nice, but it doesn't really work if what you want is a career and not a hobby. You just have to keep showing up even when things aren't easy. And it's not the most fun, but fake-dating-in-space will be revised by the end of January and off to the last round of beta readers. And I'm simply not going to trunk books anymore. If the several dozen New York publishing gatekeepers don't want them, well, I'll throw them up on Amazon. That helps with the sense of futility :) (and it's not weird to interject! It's nice!)

[garbagewitchcraft]

Azazel-Uriel Conflict

If you read about my experience with Azazel, then you might know Uriel wasn't fond of him or me working with him.

You also might know that recently I've been trying to work with him or at least contact him. This is an update.

***

It's been rough. And by that I mean it fucked up my mental health a little bit.

I think I've only been trying to begin something with Azazel for like 3 days before getting severely interrupted and warned.

Anyway, I decided to have a better connection with Uriel before getting to Azazel, based on the fact that Uriel is my spirit guide and I felt guilty that I didn't keep in touch as much as I should have.

I started off by drawing the sigil of Uriel and hanging it on my board. It was super easy and comfortable. I even had fun doing that. The circles came out great, I was chilling. Then, I proceeded to do the same with Azazel's sigil. Nothing came out good, I felt stressed as fuck, I couldn't draw a damn circle and then the problem of sigil arose: Azazel's sigil is not really his sigil? So I started researching and learning more but I was tired so I just decided to leave it for the day and come back the next day.

I took a nap. I put the tarot card from the Occult Deck with Azazel's name, his "sigil" and incantation under my pillow to make contacting him easier or start with something. It burned. The ear on the side I was lying on was burning as fuck. I lifted my head and it stopped. Cool thing, right?

I don't even wanna mention the terrifying aura when I was going to sleep at night as if something was in the room with me at all times, the nightmares that came along with it, and sleep exhaustion. How did I know it was Uriel? I don't know. I just knew. Also, in one of the nightmares, some invisible force tried to rip something out of my chest but it was the right side so my brain connected it to the "right-hand path". Interesting fact: I was praying to Persephone and Uriel to help me but when I was thinking of asking Christian God, the force got stronger and more violent.

I decided to stop for a time being. The things that were happening didn't really stop but I at least I didn't have nightmares. I asked @priestessofthegalaxy for the tarot reading with the question of "why doesn't Uriel want me to work with this entity?" and I got my answer.

Lemme tell you: Uriel was mad as fuck. I knew that terrifying aura in my room was her, she was warning me. I'm not gonna go into the detail of the reading (also many apologies to @priestessofthegalaxy because she got scared of Uriel's energy and she said it was a very scary experience for her) but it was the confirmation of stuff I intuitively knew.

I know that people say "oh, Uriel is so gentle and understanding" and sure, she is but also she's the scariest motherfucker I've ever experienced of all entities.

And also, from my experience, Uriel is not fond of Azazel. You can't change my min.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Nine

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, fluff, me pretending that I know literally anything about art history or art forgery— again. Summary: You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. 

You offered to help Marcus with the wedding errands that needed to be done, but he could see how distracted you were by the print-outs he’d been able to get of the x-rays and craquelure of Leda and the Swan. He shook his head, nodding to where you’d already set up shop at his desk. “Don’t worry about wedding stuff today,” He reassured, smiling. Then he tipped your head up for a quick peck and left.

You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. You looked for comparisons between the x-rays of the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci’s sketches of Leda, and the other reproductions that you were more familiar with. Jill actually had to come up and draw you out of the room by taking Marcus’ laptop charging cord hostage. 

When Marcus returned that evening, he found you folding programs with laser focus. 

“Having fun?” He teased, settling down beside you on the floor. You were leaning back against the couch, as you had when you and Marcus had been putting the favors together. 

“Mhm,” You hummed lightly, peering down at the program and lining up the corners of the paper before smoothing down the middle. Marcus picked up an unfolded program, beginning to fold them as you did. 

“How were um-- Errands, how’d they… You know?” You asked absently. “They were fine. Tuxes have been acquired, venue’s got the final headcount, seating chart and favors, photographer’s got the shot list.” “Has Marnie called the hotel they’re staying at and found out if there was an upgrade available?” You glanced at Marcus, “Might be able to get something if she mentions it’s her wedding weekend.” Marcus’ brows rose. “I don’t think she has, but I’ll find out.” “Should probably check in with wherever the rehearsal dinner is being held, too,” You added, turning back to the programs. “I’ll keep that in mind...Are you okay?” Marcus asked as you dropped another folded program atop the pile. “Mhm.” “Hey,” Marcus reached out, setting his hand on your arm. You glanced over at him. “S’wrong?” “You seem a little tense,” He scooched closer, thigh pressing against yours, “I can take over program folding,” He added. “She’s mad at me,” Jill called from the kitchen. “I am not mad!” You called back. “What happened?” Marcus frowned, glancing between the two of you. Jill came into the living room, leaning over the back of the couch and peering down at the two of you. “I made her come out from hunching over those photos that you printed out this morning,” She told Marcus as you pointedly folded another program. Busted. “How long were you in there?” Marcus asked, rubbing his hand over the back of your neck gently. “Since you left. I only got the damn cord away from her half an hour ago,” Jill answered, pushing off of the couch, “Speakin’a which, you hungry, Marky?” You snickered, muttering, “Marky.” “No thanks, mom.” “What about you, honey?” “No thank you, Jill,” You glanced back, offering her a smile before dropping another program atop the pile. Marcus watched her go before he leaned a little closer. “Were you able to work anything out?” He asked, picking up another page. “Nothing substantive,” You grumbled, folding the page and setting it aside. Marcus set his on the pile before he drew you into his chest. You pouted a little, slouching against him as you reached for the next page. “You know I’ve got the team working on this, too, right? And the team working out of the Louvre.” “I know,” You mumbled. “So relax,” Marcus murmured, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m incredibly relaxed. I’m also very focused on folding these programs.” “Sweetheart, programs do not need to be that perfect.” 

“Agree to disagree.” You felt Marcus’ fingers tuck under your chin and turn your head to look at him. You paused in your folding, blinking up at him. “You sure you’re alright?” He asked gently. You were not— but what was one more lie in this house? “Yeah,” You murmured before you leaned up, taking a chance and pecking Marcus’ lips. You felt him smile as he cupped your cheek, keeping you close as he deepened the kiss. You sighed, relaxing a little more and resting a hand on his thigh. As the kiss broke, you rested your head against his neck, closing your eyes as Marcus rubbed his hand over your shoulder. “...Feel better?” He asked quietly. “I think so.” “I can do that anytime,” He added after a moment, and you smiled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

-- “You still doing that?” Marcus asked. “Hm?” You glanced back at him, catching sight of him in his pajamas. Jill had relinquished the laptop cord shortly after dinner, and Marcus had freed you of program-folding duty. “What...Time is it?” You asked, frowning. “It’s a little after midnight,” Marcus walked over to stand behind you, bracing his hands on the back of your chair and looking over your work, “You comin’ to bed?” You knew that you should— it had been a long day (after Jill had finally ceded the charging cord), and you were a bit tired. “Uh… N--No, not yet—” “C’mon,” Marcus murmured, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “You need to get some sleep.” “I know, I’m gonna, I just— I think I’m really close to something here,” You admitted, looking up at Marcus, “I wanna chase it down. I’ll take it into the living room so the light doesn’t keep you up,” You added, starting to gather up some of the materials. “If you’re sure,” Marcus conceded softly, “But get some sleep, huh?” “I will.” “Promise?” You glanced up at Marcus, smiling. “Promise.” He nodded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading to bed. 

-- 

You leaned away from the markups on the coffee table, dropping your marker with a shaky hand. 

You’d made a call to where she’d been sent, and found out she had had her sentence shortened. She’d been out for nearly three years— she’d missed parole; there was a warrant out for her arrest. You hadn’t wanted to believe it was her work, you hadn’t, but you’d found the messages she always left. One was in the x-rayed under layers of the wreath of flowers around the swan’s neck: ‘Dominus ad ludere’. And then, another x-rayed layer, within one of the grey layers of the painting, near the darkened fold of the swan’s wing: ‘Ad opus domini’. The master at play, the master at work.  The lettering was small, difficult to spot, but you knew that handwriting, and you knew exactly where to look. You couldn’t help the sick, twisting feeling in your stomach as you picked up your phone. You grabbed your notebook where you’d jotted down your notes on the sketches and brushstrokes, the notes that she’d left behind, and you hurried out to the porch. You sat on the porch swing, peering out into the dark and settling your notebook on your lap. You tucked the phone against your ear, listening as it rang. “Special Agent Melinda Yuen,” Came the answer when the phone was picked up. You were fond of Marcus’ colleague; aside from Marcus, she was who you’d worked the closest with. “Hi, Mel, it’s me,” You said quietly, glancing toward the door. “Hey, professor! How ya been?” “Fine,” You smiled a little at her question, “You?” “I’m alright. If you’re calling looking for Marcus—” “No, I… I wanted to talk to you. Marcus sent me some of the stuff from that da Vinci picked up in Orléans. I took a look at it, it’s definitely not authentic.” “You got notes?” “You have a pen? I’m going to tell you exactly where to look.” You listed off the points and layers that you were able to identify, as well as the suspect for her to look into. Melinda went quiet on the other end for a moment. “Professor, isn’t that your grandm—” “Yes,” You answered hurriedly, “It is.” “...Shit.” “My feelings exactly— Look, Mel, I’ve gotta ask you a favor.” “Sure.” “Don’t...Don’t tell Marcus who called this in until he’s back in D.C.” “Why not?” “Just, please?” You pleaded softly, glancing toward the door. “...I don’t know, professor—” “I’m not asking you to keep it from him forever, just-- Couple’a days.”

“Alright,” Melinda sighed softly, before, “How do you know when he’ll be back, anyway?” “Oh, he uh— mentioned he was going to his sister’s wedding. I don’t wanna ruin his weekend, you know. Figured if I got you on the first ring on this number he must be down there, ‘specially with this big of a case in the office,” You fibbed quickly. “You figure correctly,” Melinda chuckled, “I’ll get these notes over to the team. Night, professor.” “Night, Mel, and thanks.” “Hey, thank you.” You lowered your phone, hanging it up and peering out over the backyard again. You sighed softly, pushing the swing back and forth with one foot. “Can’t sleep?” You jumped at the sound of the question, huffing a shaky laugh at the sight of Marnie. “No,” You confirmed, “What about you?” “Nope,” Marnie sighed, walking over to sit beside you, “I was working on my vows.” “Big speech-writing day in the Pike household,” You teased. “That Marcus’?” Marnie nodded to your notebook. “O-Oh! No. Some uh… Stuff on that painting. Inconsistencies, little things,” You set the notebook down between the two of them, giving Marnie the option to pick it up. She left it be, giving you a little bit of relief in what had been a mostly hellish day. “Think it’s serious?” You shrugged, “Could be inconsequential.” You were already lying to Marnie so much, what was one more? Though, frankly, it made you feel a little crummy. You were growing very fond of Marcus’ family. They were warm, and welcoming. You’d always imagined having a family like them. “You and Marcus seem good, you know?” Marnie said, nudging your shoulder with hers, “I mean...Happy.” You smiled, lowering your eyes. “Your brother is... amazing. All of you are, I mean— I don’t know any family that would open their home to someone they don’t know for a night, let alone an entire week. And your mom— the way she pulled me out of Marcus’ room earlier,” The two of you chuckled, “Well. I’ve appreciated everything since I’ve been here, how kind you all have been.” “Oh,” Marnie reached out, patting your hand lightly, “We’re happy to. ‘Sides, Marcus is clearly smitten with you.” Your stomach churned with unease as you peered down at your hands. Marcus was a better actor than he gave himself credit for. You knew you’d make a liar out of him. “Makes two of us,” You mumbled. Damn, but that was the truth. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo  ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax​ ; @drinkingwhileblogging​ ; @strawberryperegrine​ ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​

[spencersawkward]

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip. 

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k 

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."  

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.  

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."  

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

[unbridgeabledistances]

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

--

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

**

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

[bowandcurtsey]

https://bowandcurtsey.tumblr.com/post/651262866251546624/may-i-request-some-headcanons-about-nozel

Adding Julius into the mix. I don’t know why but I can see this clear as day happening to Julius and Yami back in their Grey Deer days (start watching at 2:32)

Julius in the roll of dad

Julius’s girlfriend

Yami in the roll of the child

THIS IS RLY FUNNY. I love stand up comedies! I spend a lot of time (too much time) watching them ahahaha!! I watched the entire thing tho! hehe. Here goes!!

To every one else, click on the first link to know what request we're doing, I suggest not to open the second link until you finished reading this piece! haha! then open the link and start watching around 2:30 to see the original story!

Julius Novachrono x f! reader ft. Yami Sukehiro

Warnings: Suggested NSFW but no actual ones.

"Hey, the kids are asleep now, do you wanna come over the HQ to hang for abit?" Julius calls you one night, his voice dripping with flirtation. It's been awhile you and your man met, both of you were needy and you both knew it.

You reached in 20 minutes, all dressed up in 'easily accessible' comfort clothes.

The moment you came into his room, both of you didn't even say a single word and started making out.

You were not sure how much time passed or how many rounds you had, but you were exhausted, your legs felt like they had just ran a marathon, your eye lids were dropping.

"Juppy," you called his nickname, "I'm so tired, I can't go home. Can I just crash here?"

"Huh? But you didn't want to make things public yet, right?" Julius looked up at you, pulling up his boxers, "We had this talk baby. We both just ended our old relationship not too long ago."

"yeah Ju," you yawned, barely able to keep your eyes open. "When you wake up tomorrow, put me in the closet first thing. And I'll sneak out when everyone's out on their mission."

The grey deer captain looked at you, barely able to keep yourself awake. You must have been exhausted from a long day of work and you still waited for him. It's 3 hours till dawn now, you'll barely have any rest if you went home anyway.

"okay love," he relented and climbed into bed with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

------------- the next morning ----------------------

"Oi Julius!" Yami shouted with toast still in his mouth. "I lost my robe, did you see them?"

"No Yami, I didn't see them." Julius was still cooking his eggs and bacon. "You're running late for your mission, better find them fast~"

"Aite aite.. I'll go search for them, or i'll just borrow yours!" he shouted across the hallway.

"Mmmm.." He just hummed a response in reply, it's the usual Yami, he always misplaced his things and took Julius' stuff until someone found whatever that was missing for him.

Few moments later, Yami came down, wearing one of Julius' robe.

"couldn't find mine.. so i'll just have to make do with yours Julius," he said in a low voice

"okay~ have fun!" Julius turn around and faced Yami.

"eh... by the way," Yami scratched his head as he took a puff of his cigarette, "there's a stranger sleeping in your closet."

CRAP.

"Ohh.." Julius' face froze.

"Yeap, just in case you forgot." Yami turned and left.

"Wait, Yami!" Julius called out to him before he left the door. "Just curious, you found a stranger sleeping in my closet and this is your reaction?"

Yami shrugged, "Well, it's your closet, I don't know what happens in your closet." and he left without another word.

Bonus:

As Yami couldn't find his robe anywhere, and he was running late, he decided to just take Julius' robe as he always did.

As he came into Julius' room, he sensed an unfamiliar feint ki.

Someone else is in there. A robber?

He cautiously opened the door, about to draw his katana. The ki was calm and didn't feel scared or intimidating. It was coming from the closet. He slowly opened it.

"Is everyone gone yet Juppy?" you called out and shrieked a little when you saw the man wasn't your boyfriend.

"whoa." Yami jumped upon seeing a girl in nothing but Julius' t-shirt. (you woke up already in the closet and it was dark and you couldn't find your clothes) "Em. sorry for the intrusion but er. I'm just here for Julius' robe."

Yami caught sight of the robe and yanked it from one of the corners so hard that a pile of clothes just fell all over you.

"my bad." the awkward young man pulled a frown on his face, "er. yeah. bye."

He closed the door and quickly walked out of Julius' room.

-end-

Hear me out guys. Young Julius, Young Yami. Just. I can't. What an era to be living in really. smh.