#bc the way i draw frank is ''barely''

[druid-for-hire]

hawkeye and trapper get fake septums

(id under the cut)

[image id: a three-page digital comic about characters from the TV show MASH, illustrated by "druid-for-hire." On page 1, frank burns squints at Hawkeye from a short distance, who is next to Trapper, who is reading a newspaper that obscures his face. "Pierce," Burns asks, "what's on your face?" Hawkeye turns to face him, revealing a septum piercing. "what's what, Frank?" he asks. Shocked and affronted by this breach in army regulations, he shouts, "I can't!! Believe you!! It's not enough for you to disagrace the army uniform by being out of it all the time? You have to go and--and do that! You look like a punk! Or a cow!"

On page 2, Hawkeye, unbothered, replies "Y'know, Frank, I'm finally living up to the Pierce name. I was thinking about going for some ear tag earrings. Maybe I can get a nurse to pull my udders." Frank howls, "That's disgusting!" Turning to Trapper he shouts, "Did you have anything to do with this, McIntyre?" Trapper pulls down the newspaper to reveal that he's wearing three septum rings and says, "I sure did! He stole my look!"

On page 3, Frank says "You're both terrible. Both of your butts are going on report!" while Hawkeye takes out his apparently fake septum ring behind his back. "Report for what, Frank?" he asks; Frank turns to see that the piercing is now missing. "Yeah, what's the matter, Frank?" Trapper says, whose piercing is suddenly missing as well. Frank storms off, yelling "Neither of you can pull the wool over my eyes!! Just wait until General Barker hears about this!" Some time later, Frank is standing next to General Barker, pointing at Hawk. "General, I'm telling you, the hole is THERE!" he shouts. "Go and take a look in those nostrils for yourself!" There is a long and awkward pause. The General did not like that. Hawkeye remarks, "Gee Frank, take a girl to dinner first." end id]

[bellanoche-oxo]

I'm sorry this isn't a commission, but I just have a question about your art. Feel free to ignore this, of course. I was really amazed by your Miku drawing from December 16th. Seeing such a high-level piece, I wanted to achieve something similar, but no matter how much I try, I can't replicate your shading and highlights. I was so genuinely curious that I couldn't sleep. Could you possibly give me any hints or advice?

Hey, sorry for making you wait so much for this answer, i've been finishing some projects and i barely had free time. Anyways i'll try to do my best on explaing my coloring and lighting methos and you also asked me to explain how i create the folings of the clothes. Please take in consideration that 1 i am not native in english so it's a bit difficult for me to explain myself sometimes in this language and i may have some misspelings, sorry about that, and also 2 i am not great at explaing my drawing process bc i kind of turn off my brain when i draw lol, but i can explain the fundamentals that i know and help me create! Last thing i want to let you know is that i've started glazing my art, this is a metho to protect the images for AI images generators and it leaves a kind of pattern /effect on the image that i did not put there during the drawing process.

with all of this said let me start explaining things!

Learn the basics:

This may come as a cliche i guess, but yes my first ever advise to anyone is learn the basic theory on lighting and colors (on anything related to art tbh). You don't really need to spend a lot of money on books and such as there are lots of resources online like videos and documents you can read for free. It's not necesary to be an expert and even the smallest mount of knoledge is enought to inpruve your art a lot! , i find it very interesting to learn the way things work too so don't think you'll get bored of it!

To be frank, i am actually not very good at lighting lol. My lights and shadows are not very correct, but since i do have a lot o control over my colors and i know very well how to used them it kind of compensates and creates a very recognisable (i think) style.

just u know basic shitty advise that everyone is going to give you but it works! if you have free time try watching some videos or reading some documents about color theory shadow and lighting!

Your working space:

So this is something that works FOR ME not everyone likes it, you can try it see if you like it and if you do, cool! if you don't … that's cool too! When drawing on digital i prefer it when my base layer is grey instead of white. It helps with my headaches too but it's more about the fact that starting in a middle tone when coloring (in my opinion) makes the process of briging out both shadows and lights easier, let me give you an example:

Drawing from complete light (white) to compplete darkness (black) may condicion you to actually lose control in the contrast betwen these areas, i prefer staring in a middle place (grey) and that way is i want to show darkness i'll use a darkr color and if i want to show light i'll use a lighter color, but if i start on white i can't use anything lighter. I think i did a HORRIBLE job explaing myself there, but yeah it just helps me control my color valius a bit more lol.

this is the color that i used:

Another inportant thing about your woking space is you brushes, in my case i prefer using textured brushes that mix well, and i prefer using very thick strokes, if it's too think i'll just color pick the transparent color and ease it! I work in CSP i don't know what you use, but just in case i'll give you the setiings of the brushes i use the most with their codes so you can find them

Sculpting with lights and shadows

As i said before, i am not very good with light yet, so this is something that i do to help me with the process. When you think about it, lighting is used in art to give volume to the piece, not in every case bc rules in art are not there to be followed but to asist us when we need to take a creative decision. The way that we can start with our Sculpting is by creating a very easy first guide othe the shadows and lights and to do it with very big block, so that we get the general shape first,we don't neet to get lost in the detailds yet

The actual coloring

When drawing my process is divided in three stages. I first create the doodle/lineart, that doesn't neet to be super neat as i will fix it during the rendering. The basic colors, and the rendering.

During the preparation for the rendering when doing the base colors i recomend that you give special atention to the focal points of your illustration, in this case for example that's her face and the top of the hair, that's why i gave so much more atention for this part in comparation to the shirt, that it's literally not shadowed yet. Then another step that i use normally before rendering and that i can NOT RECOMEND ENOUGHT!!!! GO WILD WITH THE COLOR CURVES!!!! OMG!!!! THAT STUPID LITTLE TOOL IS SO FUCKING COOL!!!!!!!!! like for real, it gives effects that i have not been able to achive in any other way and omggggggg use the fucking color curves pleaaaaaaseeeeee

ok i'm notmal again , lets continue.

For the rendering i usually convine all the layers of the drawing on one layer, then use a textured brush that has low opacity of mixes very well fot the actual work. Tbh here is very i can't really help you a lot, bc i have no idea what i'm doing when i render i just don't know, the only thing i recognise is that i try to esare or clean the lines from the doodle/lineart, and i focus a lot on creating volume in the places that are more important.

Skins

An specific thing that i do a lot when it comes to coloring skin is using an undertone in red (literally) I will put the basi color, use the brush to mark where i want shadows to be in a very vibrant red and then use a blue / green / pruple (depends on the skin) to finish the shadowing. Thios metho is nice for lots of occasions, but take in consideration that it doesnt work for example for very dark scenarios where the character is suppoused to be in the shadows, as that red tone works as a outline for the light. It just depends on the situation.

Clothes foldings:

Ok so here the only thing i can give you an advise with is to remember that the way that clothes fold dependes on gravity and that gravity works in curves most of the time that have two (or more) attachment points that are going to determinate theit trajectory. Example:

And remeber that this creates (again) a volume, that there is an inside part, that it's probably going to be draker, and an outside part, that it's going to be lightter. With this info you can start practicing with images of clothes.

this is as much information as i am able to recolect on my coloring process bc i am horrible explaining , spacially on text and in english, and i am also not very much aware when i draw, i kind of disconect. I still hope this is enough to help you a bit on your learning journy.

I may try doing a video at some point if i ever have the time so i can explain my coloring while i actually do it bc if not in that situation i'm not sure i'll be able to remeber what it is that i did.

My last piece of advise is to watch speedpaints and livestreams of artists you like during their drawing process and maybe even tray to imitate them while they are drawing to see what it is that they do exccly.

hope you have a good day and lot of lucks ! be proud of being able to create and be proud of being an artist!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/21/2023

i didn't want to sit down and write this bc i was having too much fun playing viddy gaem

listening

IT'S QUICKER AND EASIER TO EAT YOUR YOUNG!!!

"i'm starving...darling,,," is very sexy but the way the lyrics slowly slide into something more and more horrifying until the chorus hits??? mwah. lovely.

my one critique is that this song is...breathy, for lack of a better word? does not showcase the man's magnificent pipes. oh well! there are other songs.

how'd i find this: im gay, also he is one of the most popular indie artists in the World. his first album went platinum six fucking times.

-

reading

i read all of frank miller's sin city bc im on a noir kick and i didn't have a good time. the closest i got to fun was (deadly little, always described as "deadly little") Miho, a mute japanese??? generic asian??? assassin who is tits out not in these panels but in almost all others, rollerblading around mowing down guys with her katana. that was a painful sentence to write.

i read a lot of genre fiction. i read a lot of older genre fiction. they are not written with me, a bisexual "woman", in mind. and that’s ok bc not everything has to be written with me in mind. rarely have i read something that is more For The Boys Only!!! than frank miller’s sin city. felt kind of gross and a little put off the whole time i read these and they made me a little bit upset and afraid of men in a way i have not felt since high school. now it does feel odd to go “i didn’t think this noir was very pleasant >:(“ but miller’s work feels unpleasant and distinct from, say, chandler or hammett in a way i am still having trouble articulating. it is possible that the misogyny in chandler is a flavor i already know and barely register the taste of anymore. it may be that i got tired of looking at miller's women with twelve-inch waists and nipples as full and perky as their mouths.

mostly i think the labor market in sin city is super fucked up. women in sin city exist to have their value extracted from them in a way that is different and worse than normal capitalism. like, i can see how someone would read these comics and go full SWERF. women are literal trophies, both arm candy and in a very upsetting trophy hunting way. especially in the final volume, women are machines of potential profit. aside from one landlady and one cop and one child who grows up to be a prostitute, all the women in this whole city seem to be prostitutes or prostitutes who have married up and out. like there aren’t really even any women on the street just walking or in diners. it’s all dudes.

this is probably a comics vs novels thing, but miller is often sadistic in a way that chandler is not. a guy dies on a page to make cool art. they fuckin mow through dozens of goons a volume. if a guy dies in chandler it’s usually bc chandler's philip marlowe has stumbled across a dead body accident and it becomes a tremendous pain in order to tip off the cops that a body needs retrieving without getting framed for the kill. marlowe (and by extension chandler) is a people person-- he is a detective bc he likes figuring out what makes people tick. he is alert and it's hard to get one over on him but his resting state is congenial. despite his job, he still does believe in the concept of justice.

sin city (more of a comment than a question) says "if people piss you off you should kill them." this is not to make light of the very real Situations that protagonists in sin city find themselves, but there are very few problem solving skills on display other than "apply dick" or "apply gun". VERY RARELY, "apply pussy". that last one almost never works out tho.

aside from All That, it does contain some of the best straight up art (not just comics art) ive ever seen. the command of light and shadow is incredible. the command of negative space is incredible. panels aren’t busy unless they’re showing the chaos of a scene. he doesn't draw every single brick bc that's not important to the scene. it’s really quite stunning.

also the MOVEMENT in this fringe is incredible. do u see what i mean about the nipples tho

-

watching

i gotta lotta fuckin bones to pick with the manda/lorian but they're all spoilery. this shit fucking sucks man. it's twenty fucking twenty three we have had well over a century to master storytelling through the art of the moving image.

all three eps so far have felt very weirdly edited-- like a lot of changes happened after filming and there wasn't enough time for pickups?? this is a gajillion dollar show just reshoot some shit on your little fake stage i am Begging you. at least bo-katan looked hot. god she's awful i love her

again again i say to ye, what if star wars was good? i am slightly terrified that andor may have ruined me for any s/tar wars that follows but by any metric these first three s3 mando eps are simply not good television.

-

playing

ty @pasta-pardner for gifting me Weird West some weeks ago bc it is the new thing i am obsessed with. this first trailer gives a better sense of the Vibes than the launch trailers imo

i find it is scratching a lot of the rpg itches that new vegas does: you wander around beautiful western settings running into weird shit, followed around by a hot butch you've recruited to your cause. unlike new vegas, it is a little less forgiving and you have to really scrap and loot everything that isn't nailed down.

this is a top-down action rpg with a weird little aiming system that is sort of a 3D twinstick? it takes some getting used to, and shooting is not the part of any game i am particularly good at. here's xbox wire's screenshot, which gives a good idea of how isometric it is and what enemy detection looks like. i do wish i could expand the minimap, bc some of the locations like mines or bigger towns can really sprawl.

i have one big annoyance bc it is a thing that made me take a break and sulk for a bit: as you're traveling across the map (not open world, location-based), you can run into Travel Encounters. you can decline to engage with some of them. you cannot save within or between the encounters unless you stop and make camp. if you're on a long journey to a different corner of the map, you might run into three Travel Encounters. if you die on the third, you are catapulted back to your starting point. this is tremendously annoying in the early game, so either take short trips or get good at about-facing and exiting areas quickly.

a writer i admire likes games that let him tell stories about what happened in the game to other people-- this is a game that very much facilitates that. i was ambushed during a Travel Encounter by the some outlaws, bc i accidentally let one escape while i was trying to collect a bounty on his boss, and that specific named grunt came back with a Vendetta. but! i met a dying outlaw from the band who kidnapped my character's husband in a different second encounter, swapped some bandages for a treasure map, and he is now a Friend for Life. so he showed back up to help me during that ambush AGAINST FELLOW OUTLAWS WHO SEEM TO HAVE SOME SORT OF MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING??? mWAH. DELICIOUS. LOVE SYSTEMS INTEROPERATING.

ive put like six hours into this, and it has five chapters with five different characters. i have not progressed past the first chapter bc i am having so much fun poking around. i am so so so grateful that the first character is a wife seeking revenge and not the other way around. ppl are throwing big baby tantrums in the steam forums about this but you know what? some husbands should be macguffins sometimes. widens their perspective.

i am fascinated by the drips and drabs of lore this game is feeding me. there's an order of witches with huge underground temples that (crucially!) they did not build, but have adopted for their own uses without really understanding who built them and why. i want to know so much more about their whole shit. there are werewolves but idk what their deal is bc i haven't met any yet.

i am a simple woman! i only demand perfect cowboy western-flavored rpgs and so far this is holding up. i will have more thoughts as i go along but goddamn is it fun to play. we truly do love a competent little rpg with interesting lore and good stealth mechanics that lets you loot everything in sight.

-

making

mostly fallow week, wrists hurty

made this tuna-chickpea salad for lunch. it is quite rich for a lunch. there are a lot of components that may be challenging to digest all together for a milennial with tummy troubles.

this would have definitely been improved by solid instead of cheap chunk tuna (or salmon. this would be great with canned salmon) and if i actually chopped the baby spinach instead of going "it's fine" and flinging it all in. or maybe wilting the spinach, but that's a lot of extra work and this would be a very warm, wet salad :/ the point is the chickpeas really want to sink to the bottom. i like that there is no cooking involved, only assembling, but realistically i have only half of these ingredients in my house at any given time. screengrabs from the site bc i paid a dollar but there's no reason you have to

[thebigbidea]

I've vaguely mentioned her in a previous post but here's my Welcome Home OC/ Self-C. Her name is Emira. Emira Eagerly. Emi for short. Alike me, she uses all pronouns, (she/he/they), and is genderfluid. Oh! And after realizing her design was alike the Joyfuls, i decided she'd be related to them somehow. Like, first cousin once removed, maybe?.

Anygay, this is just an art/info dump to get her out there, i didn't feel like curating a post to get likes, so yuh.

I'll be using she/her pronouns for Emi only so it doesn't get confusing xd // the green text is kinda like the words i exaggerated while theoretically talking

Here's my first real sketches of her <33

Ignore the crappy Julie drawing lmao. I made a poopy mini comic about Emi getting a haircut.

I do heavily multiship WH characters. Mostly me multishipping Wally x Julie, Julie x Sally, and Wally having a crush on Eddie (the other characters i ship aren't multiships, just regular ones like Poppy x Howdy and Frank x Eddie). This is all to say that i also multiship Wally alot. And so, i both hc him as pan and ship him with my own OC (and some other peoples' OCs that are really cute). I also hc Wally as having a bit of a preference to guys, sooo, when Emi cut her hair, Wals was like awooga.

And yea, that's basically what the mini comic was. Emi cut her hair and this caused Wally to start crushing a little.

Colored!!

I think atp i did figure out that i wanted Emi to be a fashion designer/ seamstress.

Other outfits!! Yippie!! - I really love the party outfit. The shoes, ahhg! I wish they really existed.

Hehe, lil (crappy) sktech :·)

Oh yeah, i kind of had the idea of Wally drawing out the patterns for Emira when she was overwhelmed with ideas and didn't know where to start on an outfit. She'd just waffle about her ideas with Wally. Probably assumed he was drawing an apple or something, but oh? What's this? You drew a whole template for the dress i was rambling on and on about!! Thank you, Wally!

Her house :·)

AHHHH i love this drawing!!! Em and Emi, Emira and Emira, she and he, they and they, idc how to describe it, just.. genderfluidness!? And also, the outfits!! I just loved drawing them, I'd hella wear them irl. Especially the belt. I wish i had that 1970s belt irl!! I also loveee how she has longer hair and shorter at some point, meaning i can basically give her any hairstyle i want in my art!! It doesn't have to be consistent (unless it's a comic) - :·)) // this took me about 3hrs. And i barely took any breaks, that's how much i enjoyed drawing her!! Ahhh!!!

I was just looking through Pinterest and got the inspiration!! Well no, not just that. I failed to mention b4 that I'd like to think in the WH Halloween special, Emi attempted to dress up as a biblically accurate angle.. but it scared the kids tm (not actually, it mostly scared Frank) so she changed!! Her alternative costume was a clown!!. - And while, no, i didn't draw her as a biblically accurate angle, i did still make her an angle!! :·)

I do like this drawing, butttt my original sketch was way more expressive than this one. My second sketch was definitely more stiff, however i still went with it bc the first sketch was kinda wonky when flipped. Whoopies!!

//

Now i can ramble about Emi wayyyy more. I have so many more headcannons, comics, and crappy little drawing not shown here but this post is getting to long!! Buh bye, now loves <33!!!

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

while i decide on formatting you get the sneak preview of my two first reviews of my deeply deeply deeply subjective opinions about batman and movies. these are not objective value critiques these are my personal taste

batman returns (1992) - as with the first michael keaton movie, the style of these is just so different from what i like in the storytelling of a movie and what i like about batman that is hard for me to open my heart to it, but this one is much more coherent than Batman (1989). The focus on the origin stories of catwoman and the penguin was interesting, and I liked Shreck as an asshole ceo type antagonist. The hard thing with the penguin is that while i know this predates always sunny and i know that danny devito can act with range, everything he says as penguin just registers as frank reynolds to me. Catwoman did do the important furry behavior of licking her glove and cleaning her face for no damn reason which is important to me but I wish her dialogue was more than just zingy one liners. Bruce feels like he is barely in this one tho. that's what having two villains does i guess. And i don't like that Penguin beefed it at the end. I don't feel like Batman was concerned enough with the sanctity of life in this one tbh. It does get points for committing to a strong aesthetic and campy vibe. It has personality. It does feel like a world that can handle a man dressed as a bat. Also made me realize that this is what the lego batman games draw heavily on for batcave design, gotham design, and soundtrack so that was a pleasant familiar surprise. A good alfred portrayal as well. Visually, I don't love michael keaton as bruce, he just doesn't match in my mind. Also the rubber cowl is so stupid.

Batman (1966). my beloved, my childhood friend, my joy of joys. This movie makes me want to throw up it is so funny in a specific way. The absurd lines delivered with the most serious gravitas. It makes me want to hurl its so perfect in the contrast. The riddles make less than no sense, they are incoherent. The plot holes are gaping and the dialogue full of shovels to enlarge them and it just keeps plowing ahead. Burt Ward is honestly an amazing dick grayson for the balance of immediate rage and cracking his knuckles ready for violence with Holy Sitting Ducks Batman sparkle to him. Joker with his painted over mustache also serves. The plot makes no sense. Not a damn thing makes sense. It is beautiful it is a work of campy sixties art. It is a parody of the much earlier serials that does not register as a parody today. It is a comic book come to life. The aesthetics, the costumes, the sets, the vehicles - chef's fucking kiss. This movie is absurd and is acted with seriousness. The villains almost win bc Dick doesn't want to watch his father figure make out on the date they're surveilling. Alfred however is down to voyeur. Everyone should watch this movie at least once with an open heart. downside is 60s batman is best buds with the police and operates in broad daylight most of the time. but i can forgive that for such glorious lines as an abrupt cut to

Robin: Gosh, Batman, the nobility of the almost-human porpoise. Batman: True, Robin. It was noble of that animal to hurl itself into the path of that final torpedo. He gave his life for ours.

[chxrrysangel]

Matt x Frank x Reader headcanon

Relationship | Matt Murdock x Frank Castle x gender-neutral reader

Warnings | 18+ MINORS DNI, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom/sub relationships, threesomes, some fluff because I can't help myself, blood kinks, double penetration, degrading kink, praise kink, cum play, some role play if you squint.

Imma just let y'all know that this is self-indulgent more than anything bc why tf wouldn't it be (jk I do take requests don't fret)

I for one have a sick love for injured characters and sex. I don't know, there's just something about them battered, bruised, and horny.

Matt and Frank, in my head, are both pleasure doms/switches. They love getting you off. Watching you squirm from overstimulation, barely able to speak just does something to them.

Matt, due to his heightened senses, knows your body like every scripture in the Bible. He knows the sounds you make when on the verge of orgasm, which makes edging his speciality.

I feel like they definitely have a good cop/bad cop kind of dynamic. Frank is the softie (possible unpopular opinion but damn let me finish before you throw knives). Frank, after what happened with his family, really struggled to open up to people. Then he found you, and he just melted. In the streets, Frank is one to be feared. He takes shit from no one, except you. You wanna bounce on his cock? Just say the word. You want his head between your legs all day? Say no more.

It's Matt, on the other hand, enjoys your suffering probably more than he really should. Matt is Mr. Nice Guy in his daily life. His smile and way of words can help him into any room he pleases. Being a lawyer with charisma opens many doors. But at night, when he comes back from drawing the life from the world's scum, he wants "Yes, sir. No, sir."

Anyways, back to the main event. Imagine both men coming back from a long night on the New York City streets. Kingpin, being the major dickwad he is, enjoys making their lives as hard as humanly possible. That lowlife wakes up with a thirst for vengeance and it's utterly pathetic. You retired early for the night, knowing that neither Matt nor Frank would be happy to see you pacing by the doorway for when they come home. It pisses them off more than anything.

Sometime around 2 in the morning, you hear the sound of military boots being dropped and the doorway being shut. It's your boys. And all they can think of right now is how badly they need you. It doesn't matter that they're covered in blood and bruises, you're the only thing on their mind. With the ugliness of the world, being reminded that you exist untainted by the darkness is their greatest comfort.

They wanna feel every inch of your body, fucking you into the mattress and watching you tremble orgasm after orgasm. They love how you plead to be filled up, nothing more than a hole for them. Cum play is probably one of their favorite things to indulge in with you. And spitters are quitters, just saying.

They enjoy nicknames as well. Matty and Franky, sir, daddy, baby, my love, sweetheart, and once in a while they'll let you call them by their vigilante names.

Also, the suit/gear stays on during sex. I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE. It could be hanging on for dear life, soaked in the blood and tears of their enemies, and not a zipper comes undone except for the one on their pants. That's non-negotiable.

[vennilavee]

pink matter

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au (set in 2:58 AM//bare knuckles universe) summary: it’s levi’s birthday and you’re his present. word count: 4052 warnings: smoking (shisha), smut in the form of: oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, oc is lowkey a pillow princess, oc cries (bc levi’s stroke game is too good), edging, spitting (dont @ me). 18+ !!!! a/n: ummm what can i say other than...happy birthday to my mans. and yes i listened to pink matter by frank ocean on repeat while writing this

Levi and birthdays were a tricky thing- he stubbornly refused to do anything over the top every year that you’d known him. His birthday celebrations have almost always been something that his friends have planned, or for the past few years, they’ve been celebrations that you have planned. His birthday fell during winter break, but this year neither of you were heading home. He was staying on campus for his internship and you were staying on campus to apply for jobs and give Levi company.

Besides, your family’s home wasn’t far from campus anyway.

He had had a boxing match earlier in the week, and had come out relatively unscathed with a few still healing bruises and welts over his knuckles. Despite your many attempts to dissuade him from underground boxing, none of them worked. He was good at it, great even, and he made more money underground boxing than he could ever hope to make at his internship. Besides, he had promised you that he was almost ready to quit.

You refused to let him splurge on you the way you knew he wanted to. If he was going to hurt himself to save up money for his mother, then every penny of his boxing money would go towards that. 

Levi could splurge on you later, as you often reminded him when it was late at night and he would voice to you how you deserve more. You scoffed at him, telling him that he knew you better than that. Besides, his kisses, his touch, his time was worth more than anything. Him coming back to you unscathed was worth more than a pretty piece of jewelry.

That didn’t stop him from getting you a beautiful gold necklace for your birthday. He needed to get you at least one thing for you to show off. You had protested immediately- you were both struggling for money, to make ends meet as graduate students. But he had silenced you- “Let me treat you just this once.”

And you couldn’t argue with that.

So today, you choose to keep Levi’s birthday lowkey, just how he prefers it. Just you and him. He’s spending most of the day at his internship, and then will be meeting Erwin and Hange for a quick drink. And then he’ll be having dinner with you.

He had asked you several times if you had wanted to join him for drinks, but you waved him off. Telling him to spend time with his friends, and that you’d go to his apartment once he came back.

Levi had kissed you goodbye in the morning, letting you linger over his chapped lips for a few minutes longer. 

You’re satisfied in letting him leave in the morning, as you had woken him up early with a birthday blowjob. The rest can wait until after he comes home.

You had given instructions to Erwin and Hange to keep Levi with them for as long as they could. After all, you had to finish baking the mini lemon tarts you wanted to make for Levi, make dinner, and get ready.

You were going to wear your baby pink satin-y dress. The one with thin straps. The one that Levi loved on you.

Anticipation floods through you as minutes tick by. You were multitasking- rolling dough, chopping meat, green chilis and vegetables up for the jiaozi and noodles that you wanted to make for dinner while checking the oven. Levi had given you his mother’s recipe for jiaozi, and you were eager to try it out.

Hopefully it came out as good as his mom’s.

You'd told Levi you’d be heading back to your own place to tidy up and fix up your resume, but really you had just snuck back into his apartment to start cooking with the spare key he had given you.

His kitchen smells wonderful and spicy mixed with sweet. A thin layer of sweat pools over your brow as you make sure that the broth is just right and the tarts aren’t too overdone. You’d even bought wine and whiskey- the wine mainly for you, and the whiskey for him.

Once the dough has rested for long enough, you add soy sauce, rice wine, salt and pepper to the meat and mix it. Then, you cut the dough into thin slices and add the meat filling to it. Before wetting the dough and folding the edges, you pull the tarts out of the oven.

Maybe you had prepared the tarts too early. Oh well, that’s okay.

You cook the jiaozi and pan-fry them, satisfied at the golden brown, crispy texture of them.

You make several servings of spicy Szechuan chili garlic noodles, to save as leftovers for tomorrow. You love noodles, and chili garlic noodles are one of Levi’s favorites.

Perfect. You still have around forty minutes left to get ready. If you move quickly, that’s all you’d need.

The small dining table in Levi’s extended kitchen is set with two plates, a glass of whiskey for Levi and a glass of red wine for you. You had strung more pink fairy lights around his living room and kitchen, giving the walls a faint, romantic glow.

Not that Levi knows what’s awaiting him. He’s not even expecting you in his apartment, but when he fumbles with the keys and sees the pink glow washing over his walls he knows you’ve been by.

But then he sees you sitting on the couch in his favorite baby pink dress with your legs crossed and a soft smile. You swirl your glass of wine at him expectantly, before setting it on the coffee table and greeting him at the door.

“Hey,” You murmur, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt with your hands, “Welcome home.”

Levi can’t take his eyes off of the red of your lips. He plants his hands over your hips, drawing you in closer to him. He traces over the curve of your jaw, eyeing the necklace sitting nice and pretty at the base of your throat. Levi dips his head to kiss your clavicle easily.

“Hey,” Levi drawls, “You all pretty for me?”

“No,” You roll your eyes, “‘M all pretty for me. You’re just an added bonus.”

“Even on my birthday?”

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting his shoulder, “Go wash up. I made you something.”

Levi palms and smacks your ass generously, swallowing your soft sigh with his lips before ducking out to wash his hands. You watch him walk away from you, enjoying the way his dress shirt clings to his narrow waist and his broad shoulders. You ring your own hands in slight nervousness, hoping that he enjoys the food you prepared for him.

You know he will. But still, you like compliments and you’re not above admitting that.

You refill your wine glass, nearly jumping when Levi wraps his arms around your waist. His hands are warm against your belly, sending a bolt of desire through your spine.

“Started drinkin’ without me?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear.

“No,” You shake your head, “I had a glass as I was cooking. That doesn’t count.”

Levi’s hand slips up the slit of your dress, squeezing your thighs and trailing up your leg. “You made us dinner?”

“And dessert,” You mumble with a nod, turning in his arms and gesturing to the dinner table. Levi’s eyes soften when he sees the set up of the dinner table- two neatly prepared plates with steaming food. How had he not smelled it when he walked in? 

Probably because he was too taken with the scent of your perfume.

“It’s not much,” You mumble shyly, “But-”

Levi cuts your words off with a searing kiss, pulling you into his chest and cradling your neck. “It’s everything, angel,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours, “You’re everything.”

Your painted lips split into a bashful smile, and you push his hair out of his eyes to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Levi kisses you again in gratitude, soft and chaste. His hands are rough over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He takes your hand and seats you in his lap in one swift movement, shifting you until you fit within the crevices of his chest.

You reach over for your plate and glass of wine, waiting for him to take the first bite of jiaozi. His eyes widen in appreciation, a soft hum coming from his chest.

“Tastes so good,” Levi murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

“Really?” You perk up, turning to look at him, “It was my first time, I wasn’t sure if I got them quite right-”

“Really,” Levi says, “Thank you for this.”

“Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you,” You shrug, unable to stop the smile from spreading, “You deserve it, baby.”

Levi hooks his chin over your shoulder, patting your thigh to wordlessly tell you to eat with him. After a few bites, you admit-

“You’re right, I did do a good job,” You giggle, the noise almost high pitched with the addition of wine. Levi tugs your hand into his, admiring the soft lilac color of your nails as he takes a generous sip of his whiskey.

“You did,” Levi trails off flatly, nosing at your neck. You both finish your plates quietly with gratuitous sips of wine and whiskey in between respectively. The soft material of your dress is always within Levi’s touch- he loves this dress on you because it only just ghosts over the nearly hidden lines and curves of your body. 

He thinks it makes you look ethereal. 

By the time you finish your plates off, you’re feeling the effects of wine curling in your limbs. Making you a little more affectionate than normal, not wanting to let go of Levi’s hand. Always touching him, somehow.

Levi puts your plates away and washes them quickly as you box up the food for leftovers for tomorrow. “Hey, guess what,” You murmur, “I packed the bowl for us-”

You gesture to the living room, where your pink and purple hookah sits tall and pretty next to the coffee table. Your hookah has been your trusty friend for the last few years, and you had even introduced Levi to it. Your hookah has now made a home in Levi’s apartment as well. Even though you had taught him how to use it, he had slowly become the one to pack the shisha into the bowl whenever you both wanted to smoke and clean the water out. 

You claimed that the shisha would stain your nails. He had rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. You were such a princess, but you were his princess. 

“Oh wow, is it a special occasion?” He says dryly, with the arch of his eyebrow. 

“It’s just some guy’s birthday,” You reply without missing a beat, earning yourself a squeeze of your ass. You sit next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you and give him the hookah pipe to take the first pull.

He blows the soft tuft of smoke above your head before taking a deeper pull. A larger cloud of smoke floats out of his mouth. You’re mesmerized by the shape of his lips and the way he holds the clear plastic pink pipe in between his long fingers.

Levi wordlessly hands you the pipe after a few pulls. You lean against his shoulder and thread your fingers through his as you take a few generous pulls. Smoking from your hookah has become something of a stress relief for both of you- sometimes you ended your nights with a nice pack and just sat with each other. It was a good way to wind down after long days and long nights.

It was a habit you knew you might be growing too old for, but you’ll deal with that later. 

You start to feel a little lightheaded, a little tipsy and give Levi the pipe back. “Did you have a good day today?” You ask softly, cradling his cheek with your hand.

He hums, “Wish they were paying me more at the internship. But I’m here now.”

You understand his unspoken words- I’m happy to be here now.

“We’ll be okay soon, Levi,” You promise, “We’ll be outta here soon, baby.”

But for tonight, he only wants to think about you. Levi only wants to think about you, you in this pretty dress, you all pretty in his arms. So he puts the pipe on the table and drops the coal from the bowl, ignoring your noise of protest. Levi pulls you into his lap hastily, hands tight over your hips and wandering down to your ass.

“You should suck my cock,” Levi says bluntly, “It’s my birthday, after all.”

He’s only joking- really, he likes seeing the way you pout and protest at him. Like the princess that you are. “Levi,” You whine, “I did this morning, and I can’t get on my knees in this dress…”

“You’re right,” Levi muses, fingers tracing your sides, “This dress is too nice for you to ruin.”

“It’s your favorite dress,” You say. You’re proud of yourself and Levi finds it endearing. Levi draws you even closer and lays you over the couch with your back flat. He clasps the hem of the tight skirt of your dress and hikes it up to your waist and allows his fingers to graze the softness of your inner thighs. 

Fingers instantly thread through his dark, silky hair, tugging at his scalp. He groans into your skin, eyes fluttering at the feeling. Levi draws himself up over your body, slipping the thin, pink straps of your dress off of your shoulders and dropping kisses along the column of your neck. You tilt your neck to the side in your hazy stupor, giving him an eyeful of your glowing skin.

You’re so pretty.

Levi kisses the spot behind your ear, the spot that never fails to make you sigh his name airily. He’s intoxicated by you, the sweet smell of your perfume mixed with his cologne clinging to your skin and wrapping you both in a pink bubble. Levi cradles your face with his hand, drawing your eyes towards him.

You leave him a little breathless- far more breathless than after a difficult boxing match. None of that has anything on the way you blink at him with hearts dotted in your eyes, or the way your lips are swollen from his kisses. And especially not the way you trace the hard planes of his chest with gentle calls of his name. 

His eyes are blazing, adoration stamped in his grey irises. Levi ducks his head for a sharp kiss, drawing a loud whimper out of you when he puts a little pressure over your neck. He squeezes a little harder when you whine impatiently and lock your legs around his narrow waist.

His angel in pink is just full of surprises.

Levi could kiss you for hours, the soft, wet feel of your red lips against his is something he wants to drown in. He’s certain your red lipstick stains his skin, but he pays it no mind. He knows you’ll get a kick out of it, but right now, you’re only focused on peeling him out of his shirt. You toss his dress shirt on the other side of the couch, where it lands on the armchair unassumingly.

Levi hisses when your lips brush over freshly healed bruises on his chest, but he doesn’t mind the slight sting. Levi firmly pushes you back towards the couch, an excited gasp ripping from your throat.

You like it when he shows off his strength for you. Specifically, when he manhandles you a little bit.

“Be good,” Levi murmurs raspily, taking your curious hands in his, “You gonna be my good girl? It’s my birthday…”

You nod instantly, eager to please, “Y-yes. ‘M your good girl…”

“Then keep your hands to yourself, angel,” Levi says and you pout at him. But you listen, struggling not to touch him.

Levi pushes the top of your dress down and unclasps your lacy black bra in quick succession, your tits spilling out easily. Your entire body pulses when his lips plaster over your chest, his lips sucking and tongue soothing as he slides down your body. 

He looks up at you from in between your legs, pleased when your eyes are hooded. You’re doing your best to listen to him, to not touch him. Just because he said so and you want to be good for him. Levi hooks his hands around your hips, pulling you flush against his face. 

You buck your hips towards him and hope he doesn’t notice. He does, but says nothing, only pushing the skirt of your dress higher up on your waist. Leaving your legs bare and your clothed pussy in front of him for him to devour. Levi dots your thighs in kisses before his head disappears in between your legs and rubs his thumb over your clothed clit. He presses a kiss there and you shudder, wanting to run your hands through his hair.

But you keep your hands to yourself.

Levi hums when he finally peels your panties off and puts them in the pocket of his pants, not wanting them to get dirty. You choke at the action, feeling your face heat up. Levi spreads your legs apart, hiking them over his shoulders and licks your core teasingly. His tongue is so wet and warm that you can’t help but buck your hips for more with a whine. You tighten your thighs around his head as he gathers your wetness with his thumb and circles your clit in the same motion. 

You grip the sofa cushions in an attempt to ground yourself. Your thighs tremble at the first swipe of his tongue over your folds and when he continues to circle your clit. Levi sucks your clit and pushes a finger into your dripping pussy, and you let out a strangled sort of noise. He pumps you a few strokes, your walls already clenching around his finger.

And then he just stops. You whine in annoyance, your brow furrowed and your lips pursed together in a pout. He only smirks at you wickedly, adding another finger into you and holding still. You try to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he won’t have that.

“Thought you were gonna be my good girl,” Levi murmurs, palm flat against your hip.

“Mmm-please, baby,” You mumble, eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears, “I love you, please touch me-”

“Alright, angel,” Levi acquiesces easily. He only wants to please you, wants to maybe see you cry on his cock, come apart with his hand wrapped around your pretty throat. “You know I love you.”

Your eyes light up at that, pout dissolving into a soft smile. Levi kisses your thigh once more and dips his head in between your legs. You move your foot so it’s flat against Levi’s back for more leverage, letting out a loud moan when his tongue presses into your pussy. You rock your hips into his face, nearly choking at the sight of his dark hair in between your legs. 

You don’t even realize how lewdly you’re calling his name, as he grinds his tongue into you as if you’re the sweetest honey he’s ever had.

Which you are. Because you’re his angel. You do well with being obedient, not allowing your hands to graze any part of him. So he looks up from in between your legs, your wetness dribbling down his chin and gives you a look that makes your pussy flutter.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs and ducks his head down once more. The soft praise shoots straight down your spine and Levi tastes it. He threads his fingers through yours and you gasp at his touch, squeezing greedily.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You babble, “Love you, I love you so much-”

You cut yourself off with a wretched moan when Levi presses his tongue flat against your pussy and strokes you with two long fingers in you. Levi knows when you’re close, when your thighs begin to tremble and when you start babbling to him as you are now.

He pumps you slowly, alternating between slow and fast as you gush for him on his tongue. Levi groans in between your legs, the sound reverberating through you and he eagerly laps up another wave of wetness. 

“Look at you, angel,” Levi murmurs, pulling his tongue away to play with your clit as he presses kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yours, ‘m yours,” You slur, “Please, baby, make me cum, I’m so close…”

And since you asked so nicely, the lilt of your voice coated with silky adoration for him and him only, he presses his tongue to your pussy once more. Your back arches instantly, thighs beginning to quiver when he sucks your clit and presses two fingers into you again. 

“Levi, baby, please,” You beg with tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and dropping down your cheeks, “Love your mouth, love you so much. Wanna be with you always, wanna give you everything…”

God, he loves you so much. The way your eyes water when you’re close, the way you wrap around him perfectly like this. There’s nothing that can compare to your softness meshing with all of his rough edges.

“Cum, baby,” Levi murmurs hoarsely, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He shifts so that he’s over your frame, his fingers still inside of you and kisses you harshly. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. You don’t have the strength to pull away as your orgasm is within reach once more. You clench desperately around his fingers before he’s about to slide down your body again but you stop him.

“N-no,” You mumble, “Kiss me, want you to kiss me.” You yank him down to you, pushing your lips to his impatiently as you rock into his fingers. You look up at him with your lips parted and with heated cheeks, as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon angel, cum for me,” Levi says, a soft demand. The headiness of his voice and his blown out eyes make your toes curl. With another few rubs of your clit with his thumb, stars explode behind your eyelids, your heart is about to beat right out of your chest and Levi holds you steady as you ride out your high.

Levi slides down your body to lap up your wetness and you close your legs instinctively from oversensitivity. Your thighs jump at his sudden touch over your clit and you try to shove him away but he pulls off of you himself, hovering above you and settling in your arms.

You give him a dazed, happy smile. Levi licks his lips, letting saliva gather on his tongue and presses his thumb to your chin.

“Open, angel,” He breathes. When you part your lips eagerly, red lipstick long smudged, he drops a ball of spit onto your waiting tongue and watches the bob of your throat as you swallow eagerly. Levi kisses you, coating your bottom lip with spit, just the way you like.

You grin at him, a little messy, a little in love. Levi’s cock jumps as he looks at you below him.

“You’re messy,” Levi says fondly, cradling your cheek.

“You like me messy,” You wink at him and wrap your legs around his waist to push him down to your chest. He rests his weight on top of you and you can feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh. You grind into him teasingly, lightly scratching at his undercut.

“I made dessert for you,” You say forlornly, “Made lemon tarts. With blackberries on top.”

“Lemme have you on top and then we’ll eat your tarts,” Levi says, earning himself a smack to the chest. 

Levi carries you to his bedroom after that, and you don’t end up eating the lemon tarts until most of the city has fallen asleep and flurries begin to come down from the sky.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @captainchrisstan​ @alrightberries​ @bbygrgu​ @phen0l​ 

[shattersstar]

bluebelle

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part one)

pairing: alucard x reader

excerpt: it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands. The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again. (title comes from bluebelle by frank carter and the rattle snakes)

warnings: alucard being loved and appreciated, fluff, minimal angst

a/n: well I couldn’t work on requests till i got this out of my system. kinda stressed abt posting for castlevania bc i dont think? ive talked about it on here before? buuut i can’t stop thinking abt alucard after rewatching season two so here we are. anyways feedback is appreciated.

—

You weren’t by his side in the morning, the sun slotting from the vaulted windows cascaded a stream of warmth that didn’t touch your skin. He startled, fingers curling into the cool sheets. You’d been gone for a while and he hadn’t heard you leave, he—

Adrian had slept. Through the night.

That thought was almost as jarring as your lack of presence. He let his palms dig into his eyes, sliding out from under the covers and dressing quickly. His steps were always light, even against the old floors of the castle. You once mentioned you didn’t think he walked around the castle, merely hovered when you first moved in. Mostly because it was easy to find you, your step not nearly as cautious as his, your scent always lingering through the air, like a trail of crumbs.

Although now, it had become harder to find you because of it, it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands.

The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again–but still, it made finding you down a bit more difficult.

He’d begun to rely on sound more, listening from the dragging of ladders around one of the many libraries, the boiling of the kettle or even your voice muttering nonsense to yourself. Sometimes singing, but once you realized he could hear it at great distances, your face burned hot and you only hummed absentmindedly these days.

Your love also reached great distances, bounding higher then the gothic walls you two dwelled in, tendrils of your affection brushing over him like calming waves, as if you somehow purposely emitted your feelings. A secret empath perhaps, humming with love and nudging at his scarred chest until he let you in.

He knew all of that was facetious, nearly musings to keep his thoughts on you as he made his way calmly through the labyrinth castle. You had called it that, still getting lost in it to this day and shouting for him when you’d get frustrated enough. You’d pout when Adrian would casually walk over to where you found yourself, nonchalant and even a little amused. Though, the spike in adrenaline that flowed through his system each time that happened contradicted his calm demeanour each time he approached. He always moved in a flurry, zigzagging and hunting through the daunting walls till he could locate you. He didn’t want you to worry, to see his first thoughts went to danger, he knew you wouldn’t be happy with that. He knew you’d stop calling for him if it meant his fear would take over, that you’d likely stay lost for a lot longer all for him.

It was a dangerous thing, the way you loved him.

He sometimes wished you had been together before his mother died, so that his love wasn’t weaponized against him. There was always going to be a fear attached to his love, everyone waiting for the day he’d break like his father, that his love for you would drive him mad and the cycle of destruction would repeat. It was destined to happen in so many minds, cycles were tricky like that, promoted to be broken, but never as easily as suggested.

That was until you made it easy. You pulled him to your chest and toyed with his hair, skin drying from the bath and voice speaking all the truths he needed to hear into existence. It seemed as if the path he was supposedly destined to be on crumbled before him. He didn’t actively choose to be different, be good, be better, there simply was never the option to be bad once he realized he loved you.

Even now, unable to find you, fear trickling into his stilled heart, there was no anger bruising his soul. The thought of losing you hurt, more than any adjective could place, but it’s a wallowing kind of hurt, the cold grief stricken kind that doesn’t ignite hellfire, but tears. Adrian hadn’t even realized his eyes were brimming with them until your voice carried, a small shout followed by a laugh. His head all, but snapped up, focusing on it and soon he was in the doorway, a sense of calm replacing the creeping anxiety as he found you atop a desk, trying to place a box onto one of the many shelves in this study. The study you had claimed as your own, in love with the large circular window that overlooked the forest instead of the crumbling estate. You didn’t fear the Belmont’s as many had, but rather didn’t find the appeal in staring at a pile of wreckage.

A huff of amusement echoed in the back of his throat when you’d said that casually over dinner, coming to regret the statement when it was passed onto Trevor the next time he visited. Amusement almost laced his mind now as he watched you for a moment, you shoved the box a few times, its contents rattling as you were just a bit too short to rest it securely. He contemplated offering his help, but sure calling attention to himself would startle you, the box likely to fall.

Instead he moved swiftly, behind you in a half a breath and reaching over your shoulders to push the box the rest of the way. You still startled, jumping with a small gasp, your arms dropping back down. You both stood there for a moment, your back rising and falling against his lean chest, his arm slipped to his side, fingers brushing yours as he did. You glanced over your shoulder at him as he climbed down from atop the desks surface. You smiled as he extended a hand to help you, palm face up. He guided you to step onto the chair before settling on the floor, fingers shifting to interlace with his as you pulled him close, chests bumping. “Good morning beloved.” You hummed.

“I believe it’s past noon.” He commented, earning an eye roll.

“Well then good afternoon.”

“No beloved?”

“You’re being quite the tease for someone who’s slept in—leaving me to my own devices this morning.”

“I can see that didn’t go too well.”

You feigned offence, both hands now in Adrian’s as you stepped back, a mix of a gasp and scoff falling from your lips.

“Someone’s in a mood.” He contemplated the statement, drawing you back in with a light pull in his direction. It used to be alarming how easy it was to get you close, how you didn’t shy away, how you were ready to feel him as long as he’d let you. Your chests bumped again, your hands sliding up his arms and around his neck. “And don’t say its because you woke up alone.”

“Hm.”

“Ah, I know you too well. That means you owe me a kiss.”

“It does?”

“Of course, my intelligence deserves a reward, no?” A grin flickered over his face, fangs flashing as he let his slender arms wrap around your frame, one hand resting between your shoulders blades—urging you even closer, your head tilted and lips meeting his slowly.

“Everything you do deserves a kiss.” He sighed, breath fanning over your face.

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that.”

“I don’t object.”

“Good.” You kissed him again, this time a little harder, a bit more than a greeting. Your fingers curled minimally in his hair, tongue swiping against his bottom lip, a silent ask of permission. He granted it with ease, tasting the berries on your tongue and inhaling the warmth of cinnamon radiating from you. Maybe you had been baking again, he wondered momentarily, lips still moving against yours. You pulled away first, chest rising and falling visibly as you let another smile warm over your features. He was almost a little dazed looking at you, barely noting the strands of hair that fell over his face, your fingers quick to tuck them back behind his ear. “Your hairs messy.” You commented, holding his face in your hands as you leaned back, taking him in. Your smile shifted into something curious, brows pulled inward as your gaze flickered across his face. You studied him, the gears in your brain churning out questions you already had the answer too. “Did you think I’d gone? When you woke up?”

You did know him, far too well.

“For a moment, yes.” He had learned it was better not to lie to you, to hide things at times, yes, but to outright lie left a bitter taste in his mouth (and you’d always figure it out anyways).

“Well I’m sorry for worrying you my love, if I had left the grounds I would’ve written a note, or woken you up even, but I didn’t think about doing that if I wasn’t far.” You explained, eyes full of sincerity. It was so human, something he mimicked, but never obtained in the same way you did.

He nodded at your words, forehead resting on yours.

“But is that not it?”

“What?” He recoiled slightly, unable to hide the surprise that found its way onto his face.

You did know him far too well that this had to be magic, you had to have read his mind and understood something deeper. He still found himself alarmed at this moment, your ability to read him surpassed even that of his mother.

“There’s something else isn’t there? You’re upset about something else.”

“I’m not upset—“

“Adrian,” You warned, his mouth snapped shut, “Please don’t lie to me.” He relented, his shoulders tight with defence dropped as your thumb brushed over the porcelain of his cheek. “But we can talk about this later. Okay?” You knew when to push and when to pull and when to give in to him just as he needed. You smiled up at him, nose nudging his affectionately. Love dripped through your words and danced in the corners of your eyes

Yes, later is fine. Right now he needed to be held.

You let your fingers slip into his hair, toying with it, nails kindly swirling against his skull. You were good at soothing him, words, actions, everything. It all calmed the choppy waters that stirred beneath his rib cage and he melted into you. Adrian let his eyes fall closed as you pulled him into a hug, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other wrapped as best it could almost the expanse of his shoulders. He let his arms hang limp, nose pressing into the side of your neck as he breathed you in. Taking in your scent, not where it hung in the stale castle air, how it lingered on door knobs to forgotten rooms you likely tried to open or dwelled on the various pots and pans.

He took you in from the source, your perfume and rainwater from the previous night washed over his senses, along with that still confusing note of cinnamon. Maybe he’d bring it up later, but for now he wanted to love in the safety of your arms.

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

Artist: *draws p much any of the pjo girls curvy af*

Me: sir have you ever seen a teenage girl ever in your life

[nosebleedclub]

The Dark Suburb

((Posting again because the original post on June 11th, 2017 6:09pm is no longer available due to me deleting and re-making this blog.))

This is a compilation post of Nosebleed Club prompts from 2015-16 revolving around the concept of “the dark suburb.” 

Family Melodrama

something is wearing your mother

oh god his intestines strung up on the christmas tree

your dog’s body all over the house

banging on cellar doors

a creaking sound in your dead sister’s bedroom

warriors with spears and shields painted on the dining room ceiling of a violent family’s mansion

a woman in an expensive coat and an expensive car headed to her nephew’s funeral

coming home to a completely alien mother

getting a doberman on christmas morning that won’t let you leave the house

the reason your parents fled the city to live in the suburbs

summers in palermo where your father was looking for something

mother’s breakdown in the supermarket

the supernatural car you and your twin got for your 16th birthday

parents strangely and deeply interested in the boyfriend you brought home

a mom urging her son to quit basketball; she senses something is not right

all the holes - dozens of them - your mother dug in your backyard

grandparents hiding the reason your parents are away during your winter holiday break

your best friend doesn’t want to go to your house anymore

grandpa’s ghost followed us into the new house

dad hates her bc she killed her twin in the womb and then her mother

Do I Love You?

your boyfriend’s basketball shorts, his boy-aroma, his ghost between your legs when you watch the video of his last game

girls kissing in a gas station convenience store and a third recording them on snapchat

the boy you like drawing flowers on your ap biology practice test when you switch tests with him to grade

walking across a supermarket parking lot by yourself thinking of a boy you love

red mouth

girlfriend scrubbing the blood off her arms in the bathtub

in a tiny white house in florida, sitting on a beer-can-covered counter, legs spread apart, a boy between them

in a drug-induced haze i left home for his semi truck

he never fucked me without his ski mask on

a girl and a girl and claw marks on the door“don’t ever take me back”

The Occult

the incantation that annihilated a whole suburb

a body that drags other bodies into an oven

the witches gathering in the red lake

inhuman sacrifice

dogs gathered at the edge of town refusing to cross the boundary to the outside

a 10 year old girl with memories of a serial killing spree that occurred when her parents were children

white shirts hanging on branches all over the woods

the town of three-eyed children

arrows raining down on a soccer field

feeding time

mysterious scratch marks on your back

a fairy ring in the field where your sister disappeared

Crimes

just throw it in the back

snap!

we found the body but not the head

clearing in the forest where police found a blessed severed head

jar of baby teeth as evidence

children dressed as angels at the crime scene

seeing a face you thought you buried ten years ago at the supermarket

half a fraternity frozen under a lake

fbi agents rolling into a tiny town in appalachia

a severed arm among the hydrangeas

young men howling on the bridge one year after the murder

police cars prowling through your neighborhood, one after another - watching this from your bedroom window

Teen Dream

getting whipped by a towel in the locker room

best friend making the varsity tennis team

taking a shot of vodka in the bathroom after second period

boy gets a boner during gym class

“i’ll be like helicase i’ll unzip them genes (jeans)”

drunkenly reciting the quadratic equation

fear-mongering homecoming queen

track star died in a car accident

dead bodies photography club

“sorry i fucked up here’s some ice cream” “i’m lactose intolerant you douche”

article about demonic possession in the school newspaper

last pool party before summer ends & her hand on your thigh in your dad’s sports car

the first day back from summer vacation & someone in your friend group brings the whole #squad starbucks

a bonfire, lana del rey & drake blasting, the moon

weekend road trips to the ocean

walking around on the track alone, contemplating some philosophical concept you read about on tumblr the night before

coming out to someone completely random - a junior varsity basketball player

the last homecoming dance

lying on the track at your high school after sunset

getting picked up really early in the morning to go on a spontaneous weekend road trip

the sunday after the homecoming dance where you’re kinda tired kinda still energetic from the night before

inside a fast food restaurant drinking milkshakes eating fries until it closes

chill basement party where there’s white balloons gold confetti / glitter two girls who love each other kissing

sitting in the backseat your parents occupying the front of the car you look out the window you see the rural countryside crawl by

pool pizza party at night simple pleasures like that

on the bleachers during a powderpuff football game

sweating so much you might as well have been swimming it would be embarrassing but all the other boys are sweaty too

lost in the suburbs at like 5am and the world is still pale blue

lost in the city at 5pm the sun sinks its head behind skyscrapers

fights on the lawn of an all boys private school

applying makeup the morning after a breakup

huge friend group made up of oracles + boys’ swim team + legendary heroes + valedictorian

aesthetic blogging on a sunday afternoon just chillin in your bedroom

feeling like you could be something big if you work hard enough at it

getting psychoanalyzed by your teachers and parents and extended family

school bathroom pale blue tiles

a dream with damien hirst-esque elements

sleepover at your friend’s villa and you’re the only one awake

looking out at a black sea from your dead cousin’s bedroom window, seeing a light in the distance

funeral mass

chill that runs down your friends’ spines when you enter the classroom the morning after they tried to kill you

the sickness that spreads through the high school

sometimes i was a body in a dump sometimes i was a saint

he said he’d snapchat my burning body to all his friends

my body was evidence she was trying to get rid of

poison disguised as an eighteen year old

a world war between us

$$$

first: “super rich kids” by frank ocean

fast cars flecked with blood

girls who know you won’t be prosecuted if you’re young and rich and pretty enough

snapchat of a boy with red eyes and a glass of dom perignon with the text IS MY LIFE FUCKING REAL

snapchat of a girl’s dad’s black amex with the words MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS BUT IT GETS CLOSE

taking your middle-class friends out to nice restaurants but knowing they’re with you mainly for the money

“dude i know you’re only a year older than me but sometimes i think of you as my sugar daddy”

traveling to punta del este to find yourself but losing yourself instead

identifying heavily with the versace logo

an imperial bedroom and all one feels is the weight of all that empty space

“even my funeral has to be luxurious”

Hometown Visions

three dead owls on the side of the road

trees bare, houses barren

lanterns lit up on the dirt road at night

moths in a forgotten shed

a dusty old attic filled with dead rats and flies

seeing half your face in a splintered mirror. washing machine making dangerous sounds

midwest: watching a tornado funnel form from a window that won’t shut all the way

grass in the yard growing tall

girls carrying stray cats home

a cellar door swinging open and a man you never wanted to see ever again stepping through it, into the light

snake skins and insect carapaces organized on a torn mattress

a lovely place god abandoned

bat-filled house at the end of the street

a girl crawling out of a burning car

birds in jars

Hide & Seek

not being able to find anyone in a dark forest because they actually left you and it was just a cruel prank

person seeking you is something much worse than what you thought they were

being trapped in your hiding space & no one can find you no matter how loud you call for help

hiding in your friend’s house and finding evidence of a vile crime their parents committed

finding half of your friend

[rainandhotchocolate]

Hi! :) Can I request a Sirius x Reader where they’ve left Hogwarts (they’re about 19 years old) and are in the order, reader and Sirius are in a heated argument bc Sirius keeps flirting with other girls. Reader gets called out on a mission for the order and as she storms out Sirius shouts something like “I hate u” (or something similar) and then the reader gets a severely injured on the mission for the order and when she comes back Sirius is freaking out and they apologise and make up 💕 Ty! :)

A/N YES I WROTE IT TODAY  hope you enjoy bbg

About what I said last night.

Y/N tapped her fingers against the rough wooden surface at Alice and Frank apartment, the persistent noise catching Alice’s attention.

“Hey love, I know you’re not trying to but you’re about to dig a hole through my kitchen table,” Alice smiled knowingly at her, sitting down beside Y/N who grimaced apologetically.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise.” Y/N pulled her head away from where she had been staring, avidly trying to keep her eyes from straying back.

“What’s going on Y/N, you’ve been tense for weeks.” Alice leaned onto her hand, her deep blue nails showing up against her pale skin. Y/N sighed, her eyes flicking back towards the fireplace where Sirius and Marlene were standing. It wasn’t like Y/N didn’t know Sirius was like this, it was one of the reasons she had fallen for him in the first place, his blatant flirting and confidence just seemed to draw people in. Alice had followed her gaze and pursed her lips.

“Ahh.”

“Please don’t say anything, I just, it’s just so frustrating.” Y/N huffed, giving up on trying to avoid looking over and turning her head back to them. Sirius had his hand on Marlene’s shoulder and was grinning at her as she laughed loudly. Y/N had been catching bits of their conversation earlier, Sirius had been complimenting Marlene’s new platinum hair, wondering if she’d picked up many boys being a blonde. Y/N had brought it up a few times in the past, how he seemed to flirt with girls at parties and forget to mention he had been in a relationship for the past four years. Marlene always seemed to hurt the most though, they’d hooked up a few times before he asked Y/N out and watching them fall back into old patterns made Y/N feel like she’d just become invisible.

“You know I won’t, but if I’m going to be honest, if that was Frank I’d give him a right slap,” Alice raised an eyebrow as Sirius picked at a lock of Marlene’s hair before pulling Y/N’s attention back to her. “But you know he loves you, right? Even if he’s a bit of an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N dismissed her, grabbing at a sausage roll and spinning around on the chair slowly.

They left Alice and Franks’ around 12, after James had accidentally smashed part of the shed whilst trying to test a new spell that created fake snow and creating hail instead. They apparated back to Sirius’ apartment, a small one bedroom with open plan kitchen and living room that was covered in records and Sirius’ favourite muggle and magical bands hanging across the room. Y/N had been trying to calm herself down for the last 30 minutes, to no avail, and cringed when Sirius faced her with a knowing look.

“What’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Y/N pushed passed him and hung up her coat, placing her bag on the couch and avoiding his stare.

“Bullshit, you’ve been dodging me all evening, come on, Y/N.” Sirius was always upfront when he was being confrontational, like he needed to take the upper hand in case things went awry.

“It’s really nothing, I just… you and Marlene-“

“Are you kidding me, this again?” Sirius huffed and Y/N felt the anger bubble in her chest as he cut her off.

“You were the one who mentioned it! I was just trying to tell you whats going on.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?” Sirius threw his coat off, pacing across the room. Y/N stared at him, gaping.

“Where the fuck did you get that from?” Y/N could feel the anger bubbling to the surface but she was no longer bothering to push it back down, her voice rising.

“You keep bringing this up as if I can’t be trusted, like I’m going around hitting on girls every minute of the day.” Sirius flung his arms up in defeat, huffing loudly.

“That’s because you bloody are!” Y/N yelled this time, getting frustrated. How dare he put this on her. “I just go around putting up with it, sorry if I’d prefer my boyfriend didn’t flirt with other girls.”

“I’m not flirting! I’m just having a laugh for Merlin’s sake.”

“Oh yeah? Ask that to the fifty numbers you’ve gotten to the girls you have conveniently forgotten to tell about me.”

“Fifty numbers?” Sirius gave her an exasperated look but Y/N stood her ground. She could feel all the frustration she’d been pushing down boiling over into her glare, her hiss.

“I’m just sick of feeling like I’m an afterthought.”

“I’m done with this fight, Y/N, I can’t bloody talk about it anymore.” Sirius turned away from her, heading towards the bathroom. Y/N stalked after him.

“We haven’t even spoken about it!” Y/N felt like screaming, how wasn’t he getting it.

“For fucks sake, Y/N! I can’t do this if you can’t trust me!”

“I just want to feel like you’re not looking for a fucking back up every time we go out!”

“I can’t deal with this right now, I’m meant to be –”

“We never deal with this stuff, we never deal with anything cause you can’t deal with conflict,” Y/N regretted it as she said it, Sirius’ eyes widening. Y/N had thought it before, Sirius’ deflecting, his constant confidence and banter. It had taken a whole year for Sirius to tell her he loved her, and another month before he could look her in the eye when he said it. It was like he was constantly needing to place a barrier between himself and anyone he might care about, in case they turn out like his parents.

“Get out,” Sirius hissed, his voice low and cold. Y/N didn’t move, shocked at what he said.

“What?” Y/N lowered her voice, unsure if she’d heard him right.

“I said, get the fuck out of my house, Y/N,” he raised his voice again and Y/N had to physically step back as he seemed to stand taller, looming above her. Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding loudly. Then she shook her head, breathing heavily and grabbing her coat, slamming her way out of his house and onto the streets of London.

Y/N woke up to a hand on her shoulder, shaking her softly.

“Y/N? We need to get up.” Alice’s voice drifted into her head and she blinked a few times before she could see Alice, fully dressed, standing above her. “Dumbledore’s called us in.”

Y/N was awake now. She pulled herself off the couch and slipped into her clothes from last night, piling up the blankets Frank had given her back onto the couch before Alice leaded her to their back step and they apparated to the location Dumbledore had sent.

They landed on the edge of a field, large oak trees on the horizon. Y/N spotted Lily waving them over a few steps away, standing at the corner of what looked like a very quiet main road. Alice and Y/N moved quickly over towards her, their breath puffing out in the icy cold morning air.

“Morning, girls,” Lily greeted them, wrapped in a large green coat and matching beanie. Y/N raised an eyebrow and Lily huffed in response. “James thought it would bring out my eyes. Shut up.”

“Anyway, Dumbledore has some intel about an attack on this muggle town this morning. He wants us to keep an eye out and deter it.” Alice whispered to the two of them as they leant casually against the stone wall behind them, Lily pulling out a packet of cigarettes and handing them around.

“Should we split up then, do rounds and meet up here every hour?” Y/N sucked in, breathing out softly and letting the cigarette warm her up from the inside.

“Sounds good,” Lily nodded to the right, “I’ll head this way, Alice you take the centre and Y/N the left. See you lot in an hour, send sparks if you need us.”

The three girls split up, not saying goodbye and moving calmly throughout the streets. As it was only about 5am, the streets were silent excluding a few dog-walkers and early morning commuters. Y/N smiled to a small shaggy dog that was bounding down the street far ahead of his owner who still looked like they were half-asleep. Y/N walked up and down each street cautiously, careful to cover her face as much as was normal with her scarf and beanie as she roamed her section of the town, making a note of the small alley ways she glanced down and anywhere that would be easy for someone to arrive unnoticed. Anytime she reached a street that was empty she cast protection spells against the front of the muggle houses to stop anyone from being able to directly apparate inside.

They got through the first two rounds with nothing to report except their tally of dogs passed per hour. Y/N rounded the corner on the edge of town the third time around slowed when she saw movement at the edge of a small alley that she had checked down previously and noted no entrances from it. She edged down the street carefully, her hand pressed tightly around the wand in her pocket.

Voices were drifting towards Y/N but she couldn’t quite make out what was being said. She held back before she reached the entrance to the alley way, pressing herself against the wall and making sure that no one was coming up the opposite direction. Suddenly she was pressed against the cold brick of the lane, her head pushed back and wand sticking into her neck.

“Been watching you,” A cold voice hissed in her ear. She could barely look down, a hand holding her head up roughly, the back of her skull beginning to throb dully. Y/N had kept her hand in her pocket and continued to grip tightly on her wand praying for the moment when she could put out sparks without getting accidently killed. Or purposely killed.

“I think we’ve found ourselves one of Dumbledore’s lovely women,” The person turned their head to the side, calling to an accomplice and Y/N took the bare second to pull her hand out of her pocket and blast red sparks into the air.

‘Expelliarmus!’ another voice yelled and Y/N felt her wand fly out of her hand and towards her right and her head getting pulled forwards and back against the bricks, sharp pain shooting up the back of her head and neck as she groaned loudly. Her vision was going blurry, eyes watering, the wand getting pushed harder into her neck.

“An annoying one apparently,” The voice at her ear hissed again and this time Y/N thought she recognised the taunting voice of Dolohov and felt her whole body tense. ��She might need a bit of a harder time in questioning.”

Dolohov pulled the back of her hair tightly and pulled her along and down the alley way so that she was out of sight from the main street. Y/N screamed in agony, the grip pulling at the skin that had torn when she slammed into the wall, stumbling backwards and keeping her feet from slipping under and giving in all her weight to Dolohov. She saw the vague outline of another person standing beside her when she was thrown back to the ground.

“Hello, precious, I think I’ve seen yo-“ before the other death eater could continue Y/N pushed all of her weight into the back of her shoulders and kicked forwards, slamming them into their knees as hard as she could, her back scraping roughly against the concrete as they stumbled back.

And then it felt like all of her body was on fire. Every inch of her body suddenly wanted to not-exist, pure pain coursing through her very veins. A loud aching scream pierced the air and took a few moments for Y/N to realise it was coming from herself, her muscles spasming into positions she didn’t realise she could get into.

“Stupefy,” Lily’s voice rang around the laneway, Y/N’s body relaxing as a body went flying above her. Y/N could feel herself shaking uncontrollably, but desperately tried to inch herself out of the way and towards her wand which she’d spotted near the draining system to her left.

Spells were now flying around the alley way, both Alice and Lily dodging the two death eaters who had found positions beside the large dumpster for cover. Y/N breathed heavily but continued to move, keeping low as to avoid any rogue hexes, reaching for her wand slowly when crunch.

Y/N screamed again as a large boot stamped its way onto her hand, the small bones cracking from pressure. Y/N looked up to see a woman grinning at her, her dark eyes flashing maliciously before she was slammed backwards from another spell.

Y/N felt tears dripping down her face once more, her heart beating dangerously as she felt herself go into shock, trying to calm herself down.

“Incacerous!” Alice pointed her wand towards the unconscious death eater, slumped against the back wall, Dolohov disapparating on the spot. “Fuck, we missed him.”

Lily swept her wand around her head and a doe appeared by her side.

“Send for Dumbledore, tell him to get an auror here now.”

The patronus stalked away from her and disappeared into a ball of blue light. Alice had begun running towards Y/N, Lily following close after.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Not at all,” Y/N gasped, closing her eyes as nausea began to wave over her.

“OK, we need to get you back to headquarters now, Lily are you ok to keep an eye on this one until the aurors get here?” Alice conjured a stretcher from thin air, flicking her wand again and lifting Y/N onto it so that her body was remaining flat.

“Definitely, get her fixed up. I’ll come check on you later ok?” Lily gave Y/N’s not crushed hand a squeeze and waved them off as Alice apparated them away, landing on the doorstep of Dumbledore’s safe house and pulling the door open. They were immediately greeted with a flurry of people, everyone turning on Y/N when they saw her, blood still trickling from the back of her head and shaking subtly on the stretched.

“Holy shit.”

“What happened?”

“Get her inside now.”

“I’m grabbing Sirius.”

Y/N felt herself drifting inside and towards the large living room where they had set up medical supplies and potions along the side of the wall. Y/N felt almost numb, her entire body throbbing as she was poked and prodded and lifted her head to pour potions down her throat. At one point she felt her body being pulled upright and leant against the back of a chair as someone began to work on the back of her head.

Loud voices began to find their way into the room, getting louder and louder as someone was storming towards them.

“I need to see her.”

“Sirius, mate, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t you fucking dare block that door, James, so help me I will hex you out of the way.”

“Sirius, they need to work in there.”

“Let me see, Y/N, NOW!” Sirius boomed, the door swinging open to reveal James holding his hands up to let Sirius push past. Y/N saw him through blurry eyes rushing towards her, accidentally hitting a couple of people as he slid in front of her and picked up her unbandaged hand.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry, are you ok? Merlin I feel sick – is she ok?” Sirius looked up to whoever was standing over Y/N.

“She’ll be ok, the back of her head is a flesh would but it’s taking more time than we expected to heal because of a cruciate-“

“The what?! Crucio?” Sirius gripped tighter onto Y/N’s hand, his voice shaking. “Who did this to her, I’m going to kill –”

“No you’re not,” Remus’ voice came into focus, “Here’s some chocolate, she’s going to need it after we’re done here.”

He passed it over to Sirius who didn’t look over, keeping his swirling grey eyes on Y/N’s.

“Y/N, are you ok? What can I do? I’m… I –“ His voice broke again. Y/N felt the spell that pressed against her skull, healing the wound. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I wanted to come visit you at Alice’s but then Frank and. I hope you know I never meant to hurt you, I’m so sorry, please be ok.”

Sirius was shaking almost as much as Y/N now, his body pressing up against hers. Y/N could feel her consciousness returning, the pepperup potion slowly doing its job. She blinked a couple of times, trying to take in the room. A lot of the other order members had filtered out to give them some privacy, leaving only Remus and James who were muttering over the medical station.

“I just, I struggle letting you in – anyone in, I just fuck, I can’t stop thinking about what I said.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N mumbled, struggling to move her mouth. “I know, Sirius.”

“No, it’s not ok. You could have died, you can’t die on me Y/N I don’t know what I’d do –”

Y/N pulled him in closer with her free hand, closing her eyes and breathing him in.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” Sirius muttered into her shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly across her waist.

“I love you too, Sirius.”  

He pulled away, brushing his hand across her cheek taking in a deep breath. Ok, everything was ok.

Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​@gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527

[hongism]

would u rather dom a whiny taehyung or dom a bratty jin?

pairing: sub!seokjin x dom!reader

genre: slice of life, smut, fluff

rating: Mature

summary: seokjin keeps trying to take control and you really need to show him who is really in control.

word count: 1736

warnings: dom/sub themes, handcuffs, penetrative sex, slight bondage, size kink, slight choking

a/n: wow okay anon pulling out all the stops and really laying it on thick. how am i supposed to choose? the only reason i chose jin is because i rarely write for him and he deserves. tagging my beautiful lovely amazing incredible wonderful baby ellie moo @hobisbeautifulass​ bc i know she has a love/hate relationship with seokjin when she definitely adores him a TON. also @honeymoonjin​? enjoy some bratty sub seokjin ily :3

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you step through the door. The apartment is dark when you enter, and Seokjin is nowhere in sight. “Jinnie?” It’s not like your boyfriend to be so quiet when you come home. You are typically greeted with a lovely good afternoon, a kiss on the cheek, and perhaps a sneaky tongue filled kiss that sets the mood for the rest of the night. To be frank, you are wanting that sort of mood yet he isn’t around to provide that. You frown at his absence, moving further into the apartment, and glance around for any sort of indication of Seokjin’s presence.

“Boo!”

His sudden presence behind you and the hot breath on your ear nearly scares the shit out of you (literally and figuratively). You spin on your heel, hand already extended to slap his arm. Seokjin grabs hold of your hand with his own. He grins, eyes disappearing as he smiles.

“Hello, love. You came home a bit early, didn’t you?” Of course you can’t stay mad at his little pranks for long, not with his gentle words. “How exciting, no?” Seokjin spins you around and brings his arm to your waist. Lips touch your neck.

“Se-Seokjin, hold on, hol–ah,” you cut off with a moan when Seokjin’s teeth nip at your neck.

“Shh baby, just let me take care of you.”

“Getting in the mood early, aren’t you?” You bite out between gritted teeth. His fingers slip down between your legs with zero regard for your pants. You don’t even have time to breathe before the pads of his fingers are dancing across your sensitive bud. “J-Jinnie, I–”

“Cat got your tongue, princess?” Seokjin laughs against the shell of your ear, then his tongue slips out to caress the skin there. “Or is it me?”

“Someone is being a bit proud.”

“Oh? Am I?” You smirk at the tone in his voice. “Guilty as charged, my love.”

“I mean–” you pull his hand off you and spin around. He glances down at you, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“What? What do you mean, my dear?”

You push against him, hands pressing him back until he hits the wall. “I mean that you someone is trying to take control when we both know that’s not how things work.” Seokjin’s eyebrows raise at your words. One of your hands slides down his shirt and cups his groin. He stifles a groan at the contact, and you giggle, tongue darting out to play with the corner of your lips. “That’s more like it, baby.”

“Ha,” Seokjin exhales. “Wouldn’t be too sure about that, my love. Let’s not forget how many wonders my fingers can work.” Within an instant, he’s pushing you back, hands cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

“Oh, someone is getting a bit confident.” You let him slide his hands across your thighs and draw them around his hips. “Kinda hot,” you whisper as he lifts you. Seokjin doesn’t respond; instead, he just gets to work on your neck and drags his tongue across your skin. One hand on the back of his head, you keep him in place as he blindly guides the two of you to the bedroom. “It’s so cute when you think you’re in control.” Seokjin follows up your words with a particularly harsh bite to your neck. His hands find their way under your shirt.

“You’re wearing that pretty lace number I got you, aren’t you?” You pull Seokjin’s head back and grin down at him. Without responding, you lean down to reward him with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Gotta give you a good show.”

“That you are, princess.” Seokjin laughs against your lips. Your back suddenly hits the wall. “I think we should pull out the cuffs tonight.”

“Oh? Want to be tied up a bit?” You fiddle around behind you, grasping blindly for the door handle until you pop the door open. Seokjin stumbles into the bedroom somehow maintaining the same grip on your ass.

“You’ll be the one tied up this time, love.” Seokjin tosses you onto the bed with little effort, and you squeal at the force, quickly scooting back on the bed. You flip over to reach for the nightstand and wrench the fur-lined handcuffs out of the drawer. When you turn back to Seokjin, he’s stripping down, shirt already gone and pants on their way.

“Oh, how exciting.” You place the chain of the cuffs between your teeth before crawling over to the edge of the bed where your lover waits. He’s still tugging his pants off when you tug him onto the bed. You bring him down to your chest, pressing his face against your breasts, and it’s a good enough distraction to keep his focus off you. You twist his body until you’re able to wrestle him under you. Pulling off him, you sit back and strip your shirt off to reveal the lacy number underneath. Seokjin whistles at the sight above him, hands tracing the curve of your breasts, and you are quick to yank his hands off. It’s not long before you’re pressing them against the headboard with one and using the other to press the handcuffs around his wrists.

You laugh to yourself when the click resounds, lean back to admire your handiwork, and planting your crotch right atop Seokjin’s.

“Not so powerful and in control now, huh?” Seokjin tugs at the cuffs. “My good little sub,” you coo against his ear as you drag a finger down his exposed chest. The words have a visceral effect on him and cause him to jerk under you. “Stay put, my dear. I don’t want you to go anywhere.” You roll off of him, feet hitting the floor a moment later. After a bit of fiddling, you let your pants fall to the floor then move around the bed to stand near Seokjin’s feet. He’s staying perfectly still like a good boy, not so confident and brash as he was mere minutes ago, and you grab hold of the pants that are still lingering around his ankles.

“B-Baby, please,” Seokjin whines.

“Please what? Use your words, love.” You yank the pants down, leaving him to be in his underwear alone. A preying smile creeps across your lips as you crawl onto the bed.

“No,” he says once you’re straddling him. “Figure it out yourself.” You press your crotch against his own, following the curve of his cock with your core. Seokjin brings down his cuffed hands and grabs hold of your hips. The span of his hands spreads across your skin and dances across the lace.

“No no no, lovely. That’s not how things work. You tell me exactly what you want, and I deliver. You know why, Jinnie?” Seokjin whines when you rub against him. Your tongue dances across your lips at the sight of him so desperate and needy for your touch. “I asked a question, love, are you going to answer it?”

“Be-Because you’re in control.”

“Yes, love, good job!” You lean down to lay a kiss on his lips. “Not so bratty now, huh?”

“N-No, am not.”

“Exactly, and since you’re being such a good boy, we’re going to get straight to business.” Sitting up straight again, you reach down between Seokjin’s hands and your legs to tug at the band of his underwear. You hesitate over his hardened member. The heat from his skin reaches your hand. “Do you want me, baby? To fill up your tiny little baby? Hah, I bet you get off at the thought of your tiny little baby girl being in complete control over you.” You gently squeeze his cock, fingers closing around him and drawing a prolonged moan out of him.

“Please, I want – I want you, I really want you. I need you. Please, Y/N, please.” You laugh at the whine in Seokjin’s tone and bring his cock up to tease your folds. Seokjin got you this lingerie set for a very specific reason: to fuck you in it. The lovely crotch-less set gives him the perfect access to your pussy.

“Begging becomes you, Jinnie.” You sigh in content as you sink down on his cock, the stretch filling you up as you bury his member inside you. “God, you’re so big I can barely fit you all in me.” You laugh to relieve yourself of the slight sting.

Glancing up at Seokjin’s face, you try to catch his eye but he’s far too busy staring at the junction where his cock meets your pussy, sweat beading on his temples. You grind down on him. A low whine leaves his lips. Despite having his fingers on your hips, he doesn’t dare control your movements or pace. You’ve managed to put him in his place and quell his bratty side as you always do.

“Do you want me to take the cuffs off now, love? You’ve barely had them on.”

“No, keep them on, I-I ah please keep them on.” You grin down at your lover and his closed eyes as he enjoys the feel of your pussy stretching around him.

“Of course, my dear.” With that, you begin to bounce up and down on Seokjin’s dick, feeling the tip of his member hits your sweet spot with each thrust. “F-Fuck,” you exhale as you take his cock. “Holy shit, Seokjin, you’re so big.”

“Y-You’re just really sm-small. So so tiny around my big cock. Fu-fuck, you take me so well.” You can’t resist bringing your hand down to his neck and close your fingers gently around it. Seokjin moans in response.

“Hah, look who’s talking big again.” You drop down on his dick particularly hard, and the man under you writhes at the contact, rewarding you with a beautiful wanton moan.

“No-Not my fault, yo-you’re so tight and small fuc-fuck.” Seokjin throws his head back, hips bucking up to fuck into you. “I’m al-already close.” His hands falter on your hips, slipping down to your core, and he presses two fingers against your bundle of nerves.  

Your free hand slips down to grab Seokjin by the handcuffs. You yank his  hands off you with a little click of your tongue.

“Oh no no no. We aren’t even close to being done. We’re gonna have lots more fun tonight, love. You aren’t cumming anytime soon on my watch.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

At first I thought it was infatuation

A/N: So here’s part 2 to Leave me reckless, off the map! I didn’t actually think I would be writing a part 2, I didn’t think anyone would want it but you do! So that’s great! I hope you all like it. Please listen to the song You Send Me by Sam Cooke, I feel it sums up Sirius’ feelings through this. Also, I firmly reject the fact that Sirius died in Order of The Phoenix - for creative license but also my own heart bc no thank you.

Title: Sam Cooke - You Send Me

Summary: The time away brings confessions from Sirius.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: angst? Swearing.

Word count: 1777

Ravenscar is located on the East Coast. Your family had had a country house there for as long as you can remember. Your fondest memories before you arrived at Hogwarts and met the Marauders was spending your summers with your great aunt there; taking trips into Scarborough, walking up and down the coast.

Breathing in the sea air, you feel more yourself than you have in weeks. The long walk to the beach below Ravenscar helps to clear your head. It had been a few days since you left Grimmauld Place – you felt guilt for simply just walking out, but you couldn’t stay there. It was not the environment that you could live in; you simply couldn’t take watching him be so happy with a woman that wasn’t you. Your head was clear though; you were coming to realisations.

Sirius turns up on your third day there. You open the door to him, and your heart drops to the floor.

“What’s happened?” You ask, letting him enter the house.

“What makes you think something’s happened?”

“You’ve casually shown up on my door without warning. I can’t help but be worried, we’re in the middle of a war, Sirius.”

“You’re right, we are. But you’re taking some time out. Nothing’s happened, everyone’s fine. Harry was a bit put out when I told him he couldn’t come with me but other than that, everyone is okay.”

“I’m glad. I feel so guilty for taking some time, but I need to get my head sorted. I can’t go on a mission for Dumbledore in the place I am mentally, it would get me and whoever I’m with hurt.”

“I love you; you know.”

The confession blindsides you. He’s sitting on your couch, picking at one of the ancient cushions you never replaced after your aunt had passed away. He told himself he wasn’t going to immediately drop it on you – that he loves you. He has since Fifth Year; you were smart, so smart, and principled. You stood up for what you believed in. You gelled instantly with the Marauders and Lily and to be frank, he fell arse over tea kettle in love with you. He kept his sanity in Azkaban because of two things: his innocence, and you. He knew of your feelings for Remus, so he kept silent. Even after he escaped, but once Remus told him he was getting married, Sirius saw no reason to keep quiet anymore.

“You love me?” You ask, breathlessly.

He nods, “I have since Fifth Year.”

You sit down, “Since Fifth Year?”

He nods again.

“Why didn’t you ever say something Sirius?”

“You were in love with Remus. It broke my heart nearly every day I saw you look at him, I prayed that you would look at me like that,” He chuckles, “I’m turning more sentimental the older I get. I love you though, wholly and completely. I never wavered. There were only two things that got me through Azkaban – my innocence and you.”

“Oh Sirius, I never knew.”

Sirius walks over to you, kneels in front of you, takes your hand in his as he did not even a week ago when he was patching you up. “How were you to know? I was pretty good at covering my emotions back then.”

You clasp his hand tightly, running your thumb over the many tattoos that grace his fingers, “I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have made any difference if I had?”

Your silent at that, you aren’t entirely sure. “No,” You say slowly, “I don’t think it would have back then. I was pretty blind. I’ve had time to think now though, time to clear my head.”

He stands up, he makes to walk away while saying, “Don’t play with me now, (Y/N). That isn’t fair.”

You stand too, grabbing his hand again to pull him back to you. Your face to face now, “I’m not playing with you, Sirius. It’s only been a few days, but you’ll be amazed at what the Yorkshire air can do. It can make you see sense. My love for Remus would have always remained one-sided and I would have remained miserable for the rest of my life. I deserve better than that.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying kiss me, Sirius”

He hesitates for a single moment; unsure as to whether you’re kidding. He places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer to him. He dips his head, ready to kiss you, but he stops at the last minute. “You’re sure?”

You nod, your arms wrapping around his neck, “I’m sure, Sirius. Kiss me, please”

So he does. He has been in love with you since he was sixteen years old and planning for his future. He’s loved you when you told him you were in love with his best friend. He was in love with you through his entire incarceration. And he’s in love with you now, as you melt into his kiss and mould yourself to his body. You fit together seamlessly. He has dreamed of this day since he was sixteen. If this was to be his last day on earth, he would thank every god and every deity for letting him have this moment before he was taken.

In the end, it is you who pulls away. But it is only to whisper, “Stay the night, Sirius.”

You’re in his arms, breathless. The only thing you want in this entire world, is for him to stay the night, to stay with you for the rest of eternity if possible.

He presses a scorching kiss to your lips. Thrilled at the fact that he can do that now, freely. “Of course, I’d like nothing better.”

Morning comes, and you’re wrapped tightly in Sirius’ arms. The night previous seems like a fever dream: his hands, his mouth. He stirs next you, pulls you even closer, presses a kiss to your exposed neck.

“Good morning,” He whispers, somewhat scared to break the moment. As if you’ll come to your senses and regret your decision.

You turn in his arms, drawing him into a long kiss. You both melt into each other, you only realising now how well you fit together.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“Whatever for?” He shifts so he’s above you now, his arms on either side of your head.

“For taking so long. For not seeing your feelings, for not taking them into account. For being so blind.”

He kisses you silent, presses you further into the mattress. “Don’t be. We have now. We have all the time in the world for a whole life.”

You hum, “I really like the sound of that.”

“It’s my turn to apologise now though, love”

“What for?”

“I have to leave later today.”

You sit up, “Why? How come?”

Sirius places kisses along your bare shoulder, “Dumbledore has a mission for me. This isn’t a one-night stand. No, we are going to have a life together. I’ve waited this long; I won’t wait any longer. I have the girl of my dreams, as cheesy as it is to say.”

“Okay,” You nod, “You set off today, I’ll follow on behind. I’m ready to start this life you talk about, Black, so please be safe whatever you are doing.”

He laughs as he pulls you back into the duvet cover. A life together sounds like pure heaven, you think, as Sirius’ lips start to trail down your stomach.

Returning to London, to Grimmauld Place, you’re pulled into an empty room by Remus. You barely have time to greet Sirius, you could hear him in the kitchen – recounting tales of the Marauders to Harry and Ron.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice the gold ring on Remus’ left hand.

“Where were you?” Remus asks.

“I’m sure Sirius told you, Remus.”

“He didn’t actually.”

“I went home.”

“Why?”

“I needed to rest. The knife wound affected me more than I thought.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You reel back, looking at him in shock. “I’m sorry?!”

“I don’t believe you.” He states bluntly.

“You don’t have to. That’s what happened though.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t stay here anymore; I just needed some time away.”

“But why?” He pleads, “Why couldn’t you stay here? What changed… oh”

“What? What have you figured out Remus?”

“The night you left, I told you about my getting married.”

“It was. I don’t think you understood how hard it was for me to hear that.”

“It was hard for you to hear I was getting married?”

“Remus! You aren’t usually so obtuse! Of course it was. I have been in love with you since our Third Year of Hogwarts. It was in Sixth Year when I realised it wasn’t some passing fancy. It was when James and Lily died that I realised you were never going to love me back. But for all these years, I have stood by your side, hoping and waiting. I have sat through full moon after full moon, and I kept hoping that one day you’ll see me in that light. But it never happened. It turned into self-hatred after a while because I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been.

The thing is, you came in and you told you had found someone you love that much; you would marry her. And you were so happy. Why should I be the one to stand in the way of that? Should I have declared my undying love then? Absolutely not, it would have made me even more the fool. I would have destroyed any semblance of a relationship we have ever had.

Don’t get me wrong. I am so happy for you, Remus. If there is anyone who deserves a happy life, it is you. But you do not, for one second, get to make me feel shitty for having to step away for a while.”

“You love me?”

“Not anymore. I love you as a friend, of course I do. But romantically? Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

“Nope. I was away for a few days, but it cleared my mind.”

“You’re truly happy for me?”

You walk over to Remus, place a hand on his cheek and brush your thumb across the scar there. “I truly am. I don’t want anything else for you but happiness and love.”

He nods, placing his hand over yours. “I wish the same for you too, you know.”

“I know.” You leave Remus behind. Your friendship would remain, and for that you were grateful. But you had someone else now. And he was waiting for you in the kitchen.

[glowinggator]

Hi there! First of all thank you for the short haired reader Headcanons, it was so sweet !

I’d like a matchup please! She/they, INFP, curly short hair+ freckles, rosy checks, chubby/curvy hufflepuff, 5’9, shy but friendly, Loud w friends, nerdy, like memes, books, animated movies, painting, n’ artist stuff. My friends says I’m very funny but also very naive, I have one of those obnoxious funny laughs you don’t see it coming from a mile away ( bc im usually kinda quiet ) but those that it makes others laugh from just hearing it? So yeah abbrjgkdkdn, a softie not gonna lie, hopeless romantic, affectionate, but I hide my love side out of fear for being rejected, I’m very good with kids and animals, I get flustered SO easily ( it’s a pain. In the ass bfbgjdksks) got depression and anxiety, but I love hanging out with friends, I’m always down to comfort ppl, listen, give advice if they need to, extremely supportive and kind. I sometimes need my space but at the same time I think I kinda need someone who reassures me I’m not a bother or that they still like me, ( friendships and relationships ) otherwise I will crate conspiracy theories against myself and slowly drift away shbfngjdkd also understand non verbal language cuz it’s hard for me to open up, I Hope this is enough? thank you!

I match you with...

Leonardo!!

Your caring and loving nature is a huge factor in drawing him in! Kind to kids, kind to animals, nerdy, a lil shy... he’s SO in. He realizes he’s in love with you the first time he really makes you laugh. Dorky & infectious laughter... his weakness <3

He’s the best reader of nonverbal cues, hands down. He picks up on that shit so quickly, sometimes before you even realize what you’re feeling. He’ll give you a little bit of time, to see if you want to bring it up, but he’s not afraid of bridging that gap if you’re unable to. He’s also the KING of reassurance. He’ll kiss your forehead, hold your hands, and tell you all the things he loves about you. Sweetest motherfucker on earth tbh 

He’s a bit taller than you! You already know he’s gonna do the thing of holding something above your head so you have to get on your tiptoes and lean into him to grab it. 

Send him your memes... he always has like, a billion saved on his phone to respond with. (He’s also started saying “___.....my beloved...” out loud recently about the most mundane stuff. he’s so dumb <3 also most of his texts read like shitposts its so funny. he’s your boyfriend, but it’s obvious that you two were very good friends before you started going out together. It’s really cute.) 

At least once a month, he sends you a video of him trying to get Splinter to say Ratatouille quotes. “Dad, dad! I need you to say something for me.” “What is it?” “Anyone can cook, but only the fearless can be great.” “No.”  It never works :( He’s not gonna stop trying though. 

ADORES how flustered you get... he plays into it so much. He loves to pepper you with kisses and watch how flustered you get. He’s also done the Gomez & Morticia kiss up the arm hundreds of times. 

He’s a hopeless romantic and proud of it! He’ll do it all. Flowers, candlelit dinner dates, watching the sunrise & sunset, making dinner together, everything. 

He likes to lay his head in your lap while you read. Oftentimes he’ll fall asleep, especially if you trace patterns on his shell with your free hand. 

He loves crystals a lot! He could spend hours inside of gem shops, to be quite frank. His favorite is Blue Tourmaline, and he’ll buy little bags of it in the Hidden City so he can make necklaces & bracelets for you out of it. Every time you look down at your wrist or at your necklace, it makes you think of him :) 

One way to make him really flustered? Trace his stripes! He practically melts into your hands, and he gets the sweetest smile on his face. His eyes close as he leans into your touch and it’s just... MUAH. 

He tries so hard to make you laugh!! Your laughter is his favorite sound in the world, and he’ll do damn-near anything to hear it. If you’re ticklish... godspeed </3 

Fellow lover of animated movies!! He’s always down to watch them with you, and chances are, they’re a pretty common pick on movie night. (He also FREQUENTLY sends you the “I wish all american animation studios a very make 2D movies again or else” meme. If he has to watch one more CGI remake again he’s gonna DIE.)

If you have freckles on your shoulders/arms, you already know he’s gonna trace them. He thinks they’re so pretty! He likes to connect them with markers to make little constellations. 

He has your hair products MEMORIZED. If you ever run out of something, he’s the first to track it down for you. He also likes to draw cat ears and whiskers on the products in your bathroom <3

On your first year anniversary, he wrote you a really sweet song. He ran across the rooftops of New York with an acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder to get to your apartment, and you still remember the way he smiled as you grabbed his hands to pull him through the window. (He’s a good singer, too! It was the sweetest thing in the world <3) 

He’s SUCH a nerd... talk to him about your latest interest, do it!! He gets just as passionate as you do, even if he had no idea what it was beforehand! He loves passion. 

He has Houdini’s history memorized forwards and backwards: both his personal life and his performances! He gets so excited when he talks about Houdini, it’s cute. He’ll lay his head in your lap and ramble for ages, if you let him. His eyes light up like supernovas, it’s adorable. He talks with his hands, too. 

Super supportive of your art!! He frames/hangs up anything you give to him. And if it’s too small, you bet its going in his treasure box. (He keeps it under his bed, and it’s full of little things that remind him of you.) 

Speaking of which, he’s cool if you ever need a bit of space! It doesn’t hurt his feelings, I promise. Everyone needs a little bit of space sometimes, and that’s okay! So long as you know you’re loved, he’s cool with it. 

He’s a huge fan of personality tests!! Both serious ones like Myers-Briggs and the silly ones that you find on like. Buzzfeed. He’ll stay up for HOURS taking them to avoid going to bed. (He’s an ENFP & Gryffindor, for reference! He barely skirts into ENFP-T, [Around a 55-45, maybe 60-40 split] if you wanna be specific.) He loves sending them to you, too! 

Literally the sticky note KING. He’ll stick them everywhere. Having a depressive episode? Sticky note reminders to eat & shower if he’s not there. Loving little stickies with encouragement! Declarations of how much he loves you, and how proud of you he is! He’ll also do it when you’re feeling a-okay, but you can bet that he increases them when you’re not feeling well. It’s a nice way for him to tell you that he loves you and is proud of you when he isn’t there. You keep all of them in a box of your own :) You guys also have a giant sticky note trail on your fridge. You both keep stacking responses on top of one another. 

[ziracona]

K, N and Z for the ask game??

K: say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms. N: three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or fandom of choice). Z: Just ramble about something fan related.

K: @solelystarling was the first person to make fan art for a fic I posted and has given me immeasurable joy. Is also a very talented artist who makes really cool stuff, and has a neat username.

N: For dbd, people to learn to seperate the desire to fuck a character with the deep burning need to stan all their serial killing, the racist smol baby Jake asian stereotype to die and be replaced by good characterizations that both aren’t gross and actually stick with his canon paragraph, and attention and love for the characters who aren’t white—especialy Lisa, Adam, and Tapp, who barely exist in fandom, and Jane, who has more visibility but 80% are jokes about how thikk she is and wanting to fuck her.

Z: There’s a lot of little cool things left not blatantly stated but easily tracked down in the paragraphs for both Darkness Among Us and Demise of the Faithful, which were super solidly put together releases. For a long time most of the fandom wasn’t aware Jeff canonically went to school with the Legion and was on friendly terms, and that Frank comissioned his first art comission ever as a teen and Jeff designed their mural for them up in Ormond. It’s also kind of incredibly horrifying his own mural is what got him and draggee him to the realm. While Adiris and Jane aren’t old friends seperated by about 20 years of life, there’s beat stuff buried in there too. For one, Adiris’s name itself means ‘fearfully’ which is just cruel, but deeply fitting, and while they only lay breadcrumbs and don’t spell it out, when people kept dying, Adiris literally while still alive tried to walk to the gates of hell itself to petition the gods, which is both metal as fuck and fucking insane, especially considering what the Babylonian gods were like. But in like, the most literal way possible. Not she did a ritual, she fucking was backpacking to the gateway to hell (believed to be in the Zagros mountains). It’s also canonical she believes the Entity is the Babylonian god of death and the underworld Nergal, and it is lying to her. (Also while not said outright, canonical in her offerings/addons in-game and super fucked up). There’s a lot of neat stuff just in-game people often seem to miss, too. Like, for some reason a lot of the fandom before her archives thought Lisa was an old woman??? (Despite her paragraph clearly calling her a young woman/girl?). Just because chunks of her dreads are greyish. Fun fact! That is actually something that can be caused by malnutrition and/or consistent exposure to the swamp water she was submerged in. Also, Lisa has human eyes as a killer, they’re just muddy and discolored. She /is/ missing an arm though and wearing a prosthetic. Philip does not have growths changing his body, he is wearing a mud and plant material based mask. You can see his skin beneath it in holes easily if you play him as killer, during the waiting screen before a match. Joey does not have a beard—he fucking drew one on in god-mode I can only assume so people who saw him would later fail to ID if his mask came off (and clearly he was right bc half the fandom draws him w a beard—truly, Joey is conquerer and has proven his galaxy brain was on point). Quentin is one of the only characters with a unique prestige cosmetic, as instead of just blood, his includes wounds on his face from the gauntlet. There’s a lot more! But those are some fun ones.

[roraruu]

wip: lies MORE VAMP AU BC INTSYS SAID FORBIDDEN SHIP RIGHTS!!! IVE LOST MY GODDAMN MIND I’m so sorry this is unedited

Python isn’t there when she wakes. He’s probably slipped out to the forest to rest and hide. It’s a cool, cloudy day outside. Perhaps he could slip out and walk beside her as they head for the borderlands? No. He couldn’t risk the sun hitting his cheeks and turning him to ash.

Gods, could she think about something other than him for just a moment? What will she do when he is gone? It’s not like they’re... together. After all, this devil only wants her because he’s got some of her life. She is doing a favour for him, a kindness although he knows nothing of the word, the meaning. How will she be after this chapter of her life ends? What was she before it? It’s hard to remember something other than running through the forest, eyes on that torn cloak all night long.

She was holy before. Prayed to Mila at daybreak and nightfall, before every meal and at every hour the Mother was in her thoughts. She wrote sermons praising her, she sung hymns blessing her, she was one of her obedient children. Now she is not.

Although she is the only one who can see it. There in the mirror, looking back at her with dark circles under her eyes and a glassy gaze. She, the sinner.

She pours the rest of the water into the wash bowl and washes her face. The water is cold but comforting... strange, she’s come to associate cold with him. She identifies coldness, chill, with him. Whenever she feels it, a bit of calm washes over her.

She brushes her fingers through her hair and reaches for the veil. Her fingers graze against the cloth for a moment.

It doesn’t suit her. Did he mean that she wasn’t holy, or that it was too much for her simple tastes? She does not know.

She shoves the cloth into her leather bag and dunks her head into the washbasin, rubbing soap into her scalp and quickly drying her hair. She tugs a comb through it. The water wont take away her regrets or her doubts. It won’t do much but take the dirt out of her hair and distract her for a moment. But she needs that short distraction from life. She needs it desperately.

Silque can hear the inn come to life, beds creaking through thin walls as people wake. She collects the rest of her meagre belongings and takes the key the innkeeper supplied her with. She’s finally able to look at the inn and absorb it.

It’s small, with wood panelling that looks expensive. There’s more flower pressings and even a tapestry hanging along the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, there’s a bookcase, filled with hardback books. A surprising sight: the owner of the house must be educated. Reading is still a privilege.

The front room of the inn is large, with two worn, but well-kept armchairs facing a window that over looks the Valentian countryside. A sitting space for the guests, perhaps. She stops to look at a large coat of arms over top the entrance to the inn. It looks old.

She feels eyes on her. Silque turns around and barely catches a glimpse of a brown-haired little girl in a yellow frock. Her brown eyes grow wide and she runs back to the kitchen, calling for her mother.

Silque takes a step closer, gripping the strap of her leather bag tightly.

“Posey, it’s just a guest, not a ghost. Don’t be so silly.”

She stops when the woman in pink comes around the corner. The little girl is behind her leg.

“See? Morning.” She says to the little girl.

“Good morning.” Silque says back.

“Care for some breakfast? You look about ready to head out.”

“Yes, please.” Silque says, following the woman into the kitchen. It’s larger than most. There’s a long table in the middle of the room, with two chairs at either end and a wooden bench on either side.

There’s two bowls of porridge at the head and on the bench to the left. Silque takes a seat at edge of the bench.

“Where are you travelling to priestess? The Temple?” The woman asks, bringing over a bowl for Silque. Her other hand holds the little girl’s. She must be her mother or guardian. Pink ribbons stick out of her pocket.

Silque nods and thanks her. “Yes, the temple.” She says.

“You’re a cleric there?”

“Only visiting.” Silque says. “I hail from the Novis priory.”

“That little island out east? That’s quite the journey for such a short amount of time.” She sighs. “Duties to the temple and all that, right?”

“Indeed.” Silque says, tasting the porridge between words. It’s sweet and warm. A good meal after a bad night.

“I saw you looking at our coat of arms. You recognize it?”

Silque nods. “The Zofian royal family crest.” She says.

The woman smiles. “My husband is a commander. He is away with work at the moment, but we run this inn together.”

“It is a beautiful home you have.”

“Thank you.” She says. “What is your name, Sister?”

“Silque.” She watches as she moves her daughter’s bowl closer to her hands. The little girl’s gaze moves from Silque and back to her meal. “And your name, ma’am?”

“It is Faye.” The innkeeper says. She reaches out to touch her daughter’s nose. The younger’s face scrunches up. “My daughter, Posey.”

“It is lovely to meet you both.” Silque says as she begins to eat her meal. It is sweet, a nice change from salty and bitter shieldfish and provisions. Real food, warm and filling.

Faye moves between finishing her bowl of porridge and tying Posey’s hair with the pink ribbons from her pocket.

“Mommy, can I ask the cleric something?” The little girl asks.

“No Posey, let the Sister eat in peace.” Faye says.

“But Mommy—“

“What is your question, Posey?” Silque asks softly and leans towards the little girl. Her hair is a soft brown, almost auburn. Her eyes are big and brown.

“Papa said that ghosts always wear white. Are you a ghost?” Posey asks.

She might as well be. What with all these lies and slander against Mila’s holy name. Running around with a vampire and catching feelings for—

She shakes her head. “I’m no more dead than you are.” She forces a smile. “I can’t be a ghost.”

The little girl doesn’t look convinced. “I’m sorry.” Faye says. “She’s got an overactive imagination. Gets it from her father.”

“Do not worry. It’s quite endearing.” Silque says.

Faye pulls her daughter away to help with cleaning up, as other guests come down stairs and help themselves to a hot meal. When she’s finished, she begins to leave, thanking Faye for the hospitality. And as she says goodbye to the innkeeper and her daughter, she feels a pit form in her stomach.

—

Python told her to follow the road to the borderlands and that he would watch while she walked. The inn faded from her view. The winds grows colder and colder as she closes in towards Rigel.

Images come to her mind. Of life before Novis. They’re blurry, unfocused. Nothing she can clearly recall. Only a little church in the mountains. It’s nothing show at state to remember, being frank.

The path is straightforward—almost like a highway between the two countries. Border crossings are illegal by divine decree, but people always find a way around the laws of their gods.

She wonders how Novis fares. If Mae has run around their forests and sworn she almost caught the vampire; or if Boey has called her bluff on it. Probably nothing have occurred. For a moment, it brings a smile to her face.

But then she remembers that she is lying to them. She has is not just delivering their tribute to the Mother’s temple, but helping their enemy, the one who threatened their home.

The sun begins to fade as she comes closer to the village. Python comes out, catching up to her tracks in a flash. She watches as he pulls off his cloak and offers it to her. “Rest.” He says. “He’s busy now.”

“How—“

“I went by his house.” He says as she pulls the cloak around her shoulders. The evening chill fades underneath it. She stops walking, seeing the town, just beyond the forested plains. Her feet ache. She longs for the bed at the inn. She longs for comfort, for kindness—but will get neither of them.

He doesn’t say a word. Could he... not want this to end too? Does he feel the same about the end? Never. He only cares about her because she’s doing him this favour. Of course.

“This is the place?” Silque asks him. He paces nervously, his worry becomes hers.

It is a tiny town, no more than fifty people. The land is cold and freezing, frosted over with ice that will become dewy in the morning.

“Yeah. I saw him here,” he says quietly.

He is no longer smug or smarmy. All that annoying cheer has washed away like a stream. He’s quiet, withdrawn.

“It’s pretty.” She says. “Everyone must know each other well. Close knit probably.”

He doesn’t answer. Her fingers curl nervously around the strap of her bag. “Should we prepare?” She asks trying to fill the silence as best she can.

“Suppose so.” He murmurs.

“Now, will I introduce myself first and say you’re  OMING sunset, or...” she trails off.

He avoids her gaze.

“Python?”

“You’ve gotta lie to him.”

Her brow raises. “Pardon?

“I thought that was clear, that you’d be speaking in my place.”

“It’s a sin to lie.”

“Well you’re already friends with a vampire.” He says lowly. “What’s one more sin to the collection.”

She hates that he’s right. When she returns to the priory, she will sit confessional and tell Celica all her sins. She’ll wear that veil and never leave the priory grounds again, devoting herself day and night. In time, and by Mila’s Grace, she may be absolved from her guilt.

“I’m begging you, Silque.” He says, finally meeting her eyes. His red gaze, the one that had scared her when she first met it, softens in pleads.

It is a tenet belief that clerics and priests must not withhold help from the needy. There is no clause forbidden helping those who aren’t human. She sighs and shakes her head.

“Fine.” She breathes.

He almost looks elated for a second but looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. She sits down, drawing her knees to her chest. He begins to pace around the little alcove, telling her lies to repeat. He fumbles for words, trying to rephrase himself. His charm is failing, not that he’s using it. She doesn’t feel the muddy mind or fuzzy thoughts.

Says that they are his, not hers. It makes them easier to swallow, easier to commit to memory, though she wishes she had her journal and pen, it would be easier to remember that way. At one point she bites down hard on her lip to stay awake and begins to murmur back his lies as if they will keep her awake. Her head nods back a few times and then she feels cold fingers on her chin.

Her eyes flutter open, his face just a few inches from hers. She doesn’t flush, just sucks back a thin breath. The blood and bruises from his face are gone and she realizes—she realizes...

“Sleep.” He says, interrupting her meandering thoughts. “I’ll keep watch and makes sure no one comes by.”

She stares at him for a moment, trying to focus on something. She tries to figure out if he’s using his charm but doubts it highly. Slowly, while still holding his gaze, she eases back onto the soft, cool grass. She pulls his cloak over her body like a blanket.

She watches as he sits down beside her, resting a hand just a few inches from hers. She plays with the tattered edges of his cloak for a moment before focusing on his hand. Slowly, she slips hers from under the blanket, fingertips brushing against the back of his hand. Her breath catches as he stretches out his fingers, entangling with hers.

It only leaves hers when the sun begins to rise.

—

Silque wakes and he is gone again. But the cloak remains wrapped around her body. She clutches it for a moment, trying to focus her frantic thoughts.

Her duty. Her job. Forsyth.

She takes one more selfish moment to hold the cloak tightly before folding it up. It is conspicuous and will catch attention. Wearing it in a border town is asking for an arrow in the back. She wonders if that’s how he got the slash through the crest.

Is this a gift? Or did he forget it? If he forgot it, he’ll come back for it; she’ll see him again. One last time. No, he’ll probably just rout through her bag when she’s resting somewhere and take it back. Why would he do something nice for her? He doesn’t care about her—

Then she remembers. His fingers entangled with her while she fell asleep.

He may care. He may love in her in return.

Silque hides the cloak in the bottom of her leather bag and rises, beginning the march into town. As she goes in, workers pass her, eyeing her white robes. Even here, clerics are an uncommon sight. She keeps her eyes to the path ahead, avoiding the gazes of townspeople as she presses forwards and repeats the lies to herself.

—

Forsyth is soft, just as Python said.

Python had told her which house to go to, picked it out from the handful of town homes. The one with white shutters and ivy along the stone walls.

The end is in sight. She doesn’t want it to come. She could turn heel and run; she’s done enough for him already, she doesn’t need to do this too. She could go back to hunting him and keep it up as a facade to continue seeing him, to stop an inevitable goodbye.

But that would selfish, a violation of the Mother’s tenets.

She takes a deep breath and then summons all the courage she has to walk to the door. Silque knocks and a woman with short hair opens the door wide enough to show a typical villager’s dress. Not who she expected, her face falls a little bit.

“Can I help you?” She asks.  

Silque stands a little taller. “I’m looking for Sir Forsyth. Would he be here?” She asks.

“Do you have business with my husband?” The woman asks cautiously. The door closes a little further. There is no such thing as too cautious in this part of Valentia.

“I come with a message from an old friend.”

The woman wipes her hands on her apron before turning into the house. Two children appear behind her legs, each at the edge of her skirt. Silque smiles thinly at them but they look up with wide, terrified eyes. She worries what they have seen before.

“Darling, you have a caller.” The woman says, taking the children by their pudgy hands. She hears boots against the floorboards a moment later, then sees a tall man take up the frame of the door. He looks tired and worn and soft, just as Python described him. His green hair is streaked with grey, a tell-tale sign of age.

She recognizes the expression he wears. Melancholy; a loss weighs on his shoulders.

Gods, the lies she’s about to tell. May Mila smite her down and stop her before they leave her tongue.

“Yes?” He says in a soft voice.

“You are Sir Forsyth of the Zofian army?” She asks, just as Python told her to say.

He nods, standing a little taller. Probably The door frame grows smaller. “May I be of assistance?”

“I... I’m Silque. I carry a message from your comrade, Sir Python.”

His eyes widen nervously.

“Is it good news?”

She nods. Just as Python had instructed. “Yes. He lost his memory after the battle when the army thought he died.” She says. “But he is alive and well.”

Forsyth looks as though he’s about to double over. The woman, who Silque can only assume now is his wife, hurries over to steady him. As if a tiny woman will do anything to help steady that massive man.

“You’re are lying are you?” She asks Silque with wide glassy eyes.

Silque can hear her begin to cry, Forsyth too. She shakes her head. “No, never. I am the one who cared for his wounds.”

The lies are too easy to say. But the soldier cracks a smile between tears and shakes his head. Forsyth’s relief is contagious.

“The idiot’s all right?” He asks, voice growing full.

She nods. “He sent me after he regained some memories. He’s protecting a village down south and was not able to come but... He’s all right.”

Forsyth holds his head, his wife holding him tight. He reaches out for Silque, pulling her close to his body. She feels both bodies wrack with tears. She feels a guilty happiness wash over her as she halfheartedly hugs back.

—

Forsyth’s wife, Penelope, insists that she stay the night. She makes a hearty stew for supper, Silque’s first good meal in ages. It fills her with warmth, fighting off the stark chill of the borderlands. And again, Silque is met with the gaze of children. Two—a girl and a boy—watch as Forsyth batters her with questions about Python and where they live now.

Which he assumes. Of course he would—a pretty cleric arrives at his doorstep and said she nursed the wounds of his dear friend. He has a debt to repay to that pretty cleric and her church that supplied the space, the funds, the medications to save him. Gods, if it were only that way.

“How do you stand him?” Forsyth asks with a laugh as they help clear away dishes from the table. And she slowly realizes that Forsyth thinks they are together.

And what’s worse is that Python predicted it.

Fake a flush and go on with it. He’d said and looked away. When he noticed her flush he’d said that is all a lie to ply him. Make him believe that he’s still human, still flesh and blood and not some monster that stalks the night and kills.

Forsyth shakes his head. “Apologies Lady Silque, I did not mean insinuate...” he fumbles awkwardly.

“Do not worry. I suppose you could say there’s a certain charisma about him.” She says. “Makes him quite the character.”

Penelope snorts and Silque’s brows furrows. “My wife was also in the army around the same time. She knows of Python’s behaviour.” He explains.

“I had to apologize to many, manywomen.”

Silque flushes.

“How long d—have you known Python for?” She asks them both. Penelope excuses herself to put the children to bed.

“Penelope has known Python since she joined the army. Just before he went missing.” He explains, moving about the kitchen to put away dishes. Silque fidgets with the cloth. “Roughly twenty years, I believe.”

Twenty years? Her eyes widen.

“I bet he looks rough. Losing your memory and gods... He must be scarred from the battle. It was a horrible one.”

She doesn’t remember seeing a single scar on his face. His skin was like marble, unblemished and perfect. And his hair... It isn’t greying like Forsyth’s is.

How old is he? She wonders. What has he lied about or covered up? He’s always avoided her questions about his personal life with such blunt and quick remarks.

“Sir Forsyth, how long have youknown Python for?”

He winces and paces for a moment as she dries another plate. He holds out his hand. “All my life. About—“

Penelope returns. “Forsyth darling, poor Silque is probably worn from her journey. Let’s let her rest.”

She bites at a frown. Stopped from another answer. Gods.

“Oh yes.” He nods quickly, taking the cloth from her. “Please, wash up and relax. Our home is yours.”

“I’m fine as I am. I would rather talk a little more.” Silque says. “I plan to leave early in the morning. I have missed too much back home.”

“Then you must rest.” Penelope urges, taking her hand and pulling her from the kitchen. The little woman is stronger than she looks.

“Really—“

“Lady Silque you’ve come far from your home to deliver a message. It’s here and you must rest.” He says voice sharp. It makes her stand a little stiffer.

done more for us in a day than the kingdom has in a lifetime.” He says, voice sharp. “Who knows if they forged his record.”

“Sir Forsyth...”

“You are welcome in our home whenever you need it.” He says. Penelope nods, adding in soft words that Silque can’t hear. “I beg of you, rest. You are an angel that heaven sent and you must return to my friend.” He laughs softly and she feels her stomach churn. “Who else will keep him from death again?”

—

They put Silque up in the front room of the house, sitting her in a pretty armchair. It’s all they have. Penelope apologies all over the place as Forsyth drags out an old chest full of sheets and linens. The woman unfolds several thick blankets to cushion the chair and warm Silque.

It is miles better than the forest floor that she slept on the night before, but she can’t sleep. Instead she listens to the creaking floorboards of the house and the silence that follows. She watches the moon come out from behind the clouds and shine into the front room.

She longs for sleep.Her body screams for it but melancholy overtakes her. This is farewell. Her debt is paid. In the morning, he will leave pay in the ivy for her passage to Novis. It was apart of the deal they’d struck—Silque had nary a penny to her name, and strangely he had more than enough.

And then, she sees his figure in the window. He stares at her for a moment, almost woefully. Is he... saddened by their farewell too? Or is he simply trying to commit her face to memory before he makes a run for it?

She sits up in the chair, and as quietly as she can slips out of the house. She will return in the morning to say farewell to Forsyth and Penelope, but she wants answers. Three years of chasing him and only more questions prop up. Now is the time to end it.

“Is it done?” He asks, avoiding her gaze.

She nods. “He believed it.”

The ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “Good.” He murmurs. He stretches out a small sachet of marks, the price for passage home. She stares at it.

“I want answers.”

“You have a book full of them.”

“Not about what you are, I want to know whoyou are. Who you were.”

He looks away.

“Python, I want to know about you.” She says in the sharpest voice she can muster. Her hands knit into fists. “I deserve that much after all I’ve done.”

His eyes trail back to hers, glowering with something between sadness and fury. He looks as though he’s about to beg her to not to continue her thought. His pale lips purse together.

“Will that get you to go back to Novis?” He asks.

She looks aghast. “What—“

“You’re supposed to hunt me Silque.” He says sharply. “A favour is one thing but this has gone too far. I’ve let it go too far. I should’ve left you alone.”

She stares at him, eyes growing glassy with angry tears. “If you tell me about how long you’ve lived, I’ll go back to Novis.” She says.

“Promise?”

She nods and holds out her hand for the sachet of marks. They clink together as she puts them into her bag. He watches her with an intent gaze. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t tell me here?” She asks.

“You want the whole truth don’t you?” Silque nods. “Then follow me.”

Silque follows Python along the same path they took into town. She will be back in the morning, in time to give her hosts a thankful farewell. She promises them in her mind when they leave the front yard.

Python stays right at her side. She’s not wearing her necklace. She hasn’t put it back on since they buried his father. She feels a little... barren without it. Like Mila’s blessings and protection are not with her.

He has gotten so cold all of sudden. The night before he had the gall to touch her so tenderly, and now he was telling her leave and not come back. What changed over the course of a day? Was her value gone now? Her use fulfilled and now she was nothing more than just another holy cleric he could drain of blood?

Gods, what if he was leading her out to kill her?

No. He couldn’t. He looked pained when he told her to leave. But that could have easily been an act. And touching her tenderly could’ve been another act completely.

At last, she asks. “Where are we going?” She asks.

“Outskirts of town.” He says severely. “There’s something you need to see.”

She stays silent and focuses on the dark road ahead.