#because I’ve drawn them SO many times

[ashdash2417]

When you’re drawing your own characters: “Hell ye. I’m loving how they look. Look at how beautiful this drawing of them is! *chef kiss*”

When you’re making fanart of other characters from TV shows and such: “Uuuhhhhh, fuck. This does not look right. Wtf is this pose, what?? … Why can’t I draw this character?! 😭”

(This is how I feel sometimes at least…)

[nickyroethemarinebiologist]

Temeraire dragons but they’re based off of birds!!! Lily is based off a pheasant, Maximus is a bullfinch, and Tem is a black-necked crane :)

[aria-greenhoodie]

I would never say his to an artist’s face and this is not hate at all to any artists who do this but like every time I see fanart of a smoothed out anime boy version of canon time Stanford or Stanley that look at least 30 years younger I feel my soul ache in protest a little more

[itspileofgoodthings]

Taylor returning over and over to the falling through the ice accident in the Bolter—everything to me

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[missrosemaris-stuff]

Grieving the background characters I’ve never drawn or posted

[astrow1zar6]

Venus in the houses Ovservation 8-12

Venus in the 8th house: these people are so magnetic it’s insane. They have a dark beauty to them that’s truly captivating. They remind me of Tim Burton characters. But being so magnetic causes a lot of people to become obsessed with them. They attract a lot of stalkers and creepy people. They tend to get sexualized constantly( people make such gross comments to them it’s shocking). I’ve seen these people get catcalled and lustful stares and comments about their body even if they aren’t wearing anything revealing. Even I’ve seen family members make inappropriate comments to these natives, things like “if you weren’t my daughter I’d….” You get the picture 🤮 (8th house ruling taboo attraction ) one of my close friends had to deal with that in her family. They may have been shamed for wearing revealing clothing of too much makeup because it’s seen as “overly sexy” or “hoochie”. People could’ve thought they were sluts even if they never had sex too it’s sad. They can get a lot of hate from people for no reason as well they may be used to people (mostly women) giving them dirty looks or ignoring them/purposely being mean to them. Their presence has such an intense affect on the people around them. Their relationships are also intense as well they attract a lot of people with a dangerous/edgy type vibe to them (junkies, drug dealers, people with a record ect). They have a provocative vibe to them so they can attract some very questionable partners at time. I’ve seen too that they are into gory kinda art or disturbing art pieces/ photography. They are also very proud of their bodies & usually embrace their sexuality. I’ve seen a lot get into nude modeling or just take a lot of pictures of their bodies. They’re more comfortable being nude than most (also this can be a big sugar baby placement as well like Venus in the 2nd).

Venus in 9th house: have such a unique glow to them. They have smiles that can light up a room and their laugh reminds me of wind chimes. I haven’t met a lot of people with this placement but the ones I met I notice they are so intelligent and well spoken. So many people are drawn to them just to hear what they have to talk about. It makes them amazing teachers/gurus. They just always seem like they know what they’re talking about so many describe them as being wise beyond their years (they usually have pretty high IQs as well, Marylin Monroe had this placement) They tend to find spouses while traveling or they can travel a lot with their partner. Their partner might’ve come from a very diverse cultural background or ethnicity. On the negative side these people can be very overly indulgent and sometimes believe that they are always right and their words are law. They can have a big god complex if negatively aspected.

Venus in the 10th house: give superstar vibes. These people put a lot of effort into their career and public image. Most big celebrities/ big politicians I notice have this placement. This can be a big trendsetter placement as well, you’ll notice that many people will admire you and try to copy you a lot! Whether it be you mannerisms, fashion, art style ect. For example Billie Eilish has this placement and everyone went crazy over her baggy clothes style. You have more of an opportunity to make your mark in the world more than the rest of the Venus signs. If afflicted however you can become too obsessed with recognition and status to the point where you abandon important things and people in your life to attain your goals, this can cause someone who has sorta tunnel vision when negatively aspected. It’s important to not get so wrapped up in others image of you so you don’t burn yourself out trying to please everyone (they can be extremely sensitive to criticism & be harsh on themselves to perform perfectly). You can also have a habit of putting your work/career before relationships. You may not settle down till later in life.

Venus in the 11th house: I notice similar to Venus in Aqua that they are really big on friends before lovers typa thing. They don’t really jump into relationships fast without becoming their friend first.( which can be a little annoying to more fast paced types) at first you can make your partner feel friend zoned but the ones who are patient enough to let you open up usually win your heart. They usually put a big emphasis on friends in general and could have a lot of them. If you date someone with this placement it may feel like you’re dating their friends too😭 they’re a very big part of their life. People with this placement usually have many support systems which can help them through life and show them to new opportunities(especially business opportunities). On the flip side I’ve seen these people become too detached with their relationships and treat them like friends rather than lovers which can cause their partner to feel neglected. They tend to find lovey dovey expressions a little awkward (if immature) which can cause them to become aloof when things get a little too close, they may start playing hot and cold. Might need a longer time to mature romantically than most. I’ve seen a lot of influencer and people with popular social media blogs have this placement. They’re very tech savvy & usually own the latest technology.

Venus in 12th house: these people I feel mostly live in their fantasy worlds in terms of love and romance. They are hopeless romantics at heart and have this beautiful vision of how they want their love to look and feel like. However it’s usually difficult for them to find this perfect love in such an imperfect world so they usually end up romanticizing the most mentally ill mfs into like a Prince Charming image lmao. This is why they usually attract a lot of unstable/ emotionally unavailable partners. I’ve seen these people remain celibate for long periods of time as well until they find that perfect love. Most of the time though unfortunately love feels a lot better in their imagination. I’ve read somewhere before that they go through such an ordeal in love because in a past life they chose lovers over loving themselves so a big lesson in this lifetime is to love yourself before you let anyone in. I also read they could’ve lost their soulmate in another life which caused this extreme longing for love in this life. These people usually find self love through spiritual practices such as religion, meditation, crystal work, tarot ect.

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[fastandcarlos]

Leo’s Little Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: the birth of your daughter was supposed to be the happiest moment for you and charles, but both of you forgot about leo too

Your little family had almost been complete for quite some time. You, Charles and Leo. The perfect trio. Why fix something that isn’t broke? Why add to the chaos of your crazy lives? Well, because you both couldn’t wait to become parents. 

It never was meant to be so soon, neither you or Charles had planned to fall pregnant quite so suddenly but your life had always been mayhem, and pregnancy was just another cog to add to the wheel of things that you needed to juggle together.  

It had been touch and go for quite some time as your baby’s arrival loomed. With just two weeks to go Charles had never been happier to see the start of the summer break which meant at last he could be glued to your side and be there just in case anything happened. 

Being at home was something that Charles very quickly got used to, laid out on the sofa with you tucked into his side. Charles didn’t always get his own way though, with Leo snuggled just underneath your bump to block Charles holding onto it. 

“I wonder how he’s going to be.” 

Your attention was pulled from your book when Charles spoke, following his gaze down to where Leo laid, snoring lightly with his eyes tight shut. 

“What do you mean?” You asked him. 

“I’m just thinking about when the baby arrives, do you think Leo will respond well to not being the centre of our attention anymore?” Charles questioned. 

Your eyes flickered between Charles and Leo and your bump as you pondered Charles’ question. Truthfully, it was something that you had never quite thought about before, but if there was one word that you’d use to describe Leo, it was definitely needy.  

“I think he’ll enjoy having someone else to be around,” you spoke after a few moments. 

“He’ll definitely love an extra body to cuddle up to.” 

It was almost as if he knew that you were talking about him, as Leo’s head lifted up and his wide eyes looked at you both as if to remind you that he could hear everything.  

“You know, I’ve got a feeling that Leo and this baby might just end up being the best of friends, I definitely think we’re going to have trouble on our hands.” 

Ever since that conversation you pictured how your family, or especially Leo, would adapt to the baby, counting down the days until all those dream scenarios became a reality.  

And just a couple of weeks later your little girl arrived. It was tougher than you could have ever imagined, but with Charles not leaving your side for the many hours that you were in labour for, your family was soon complete. Charles was an emotional mess beside you, but through his tears he knew that he’d just experienced the best moments of his entire life. 

You might’ve been a little bit bias, but your baby girl was the definition of perfect. Straight away you were drawn to her bright eyes, a striking resemblance to Charles’. They captured your attention, just like Charles’ had done many years ago when the two of you first met.  

And as Charles held her for the first time and you got your first look at the two of them side by side, you knew you had a daddy’s girl on your hands. She was instantly besotted, settled and comfortable in Charles’ strong hold, almost as if you were the one who was intruding on the moment between your husband and your child despite being the one to bring her into the world. 

“It’s a good job we’ve got Leo otherwise I think I’d be outnumbered at home with you two,” you joked as Charles made himself comfortable.  

You knew deep down though you wouldn’t have Leo for long, as the two of you arrived home with your daughter. It had been a couple of days since he got to see you and Charles, unaware that a new arrival was waiting on the other side of the door to greet him too. 

Together you took things slowly as you returned to your apartment, Charles took Leo into your bedroom whilst you settled in the living room with your daughter. Once you were sure that she was settled you called through to Charles who poked his head out from behind the bedroom door. 

“Are you absolutely sure about doing this now?” Charles nervously asked you. 

“Charles, we’re going to have to do it sooner or later. We might as well get it over with whilst they’re both pretty settled.” 

He trusted you more than anyone, and so Charles decided to open the bedroom door and allow Leo to come out. It was as if nothing was going on as if strolled through the apartment, that was until his eye was caught by the carrier that sat on your living room floor. Charles came over and sat beside you, his hand on your thigh as Leo began to inspect. 

Leo had a little sniff around the carrier as he familiarised with the something new that had entered his home. After giving him a moment you reached into the carrier and lifted your daughter out, holding her just in front of where Leo was. 

It took a little while for Leo to stop fussing over your daughter, looking up at you and Charles. His eyes told the two of you that he approved of your little girl, walking away from her once he was happy with what was going on. 

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

Your words were truer than ever though that night as Charles laid on your bed with his daughter laid just beside him. You walked through after taking an overdue shower, surprised to see that there was another addition to your bed. They say that three is a crowd, but not in this case. 

Your heart felt like it could burst as your daughter laid between Charles on her left, and Leo on her right, his head almost touching hers as if to reassure her that he was right beside her too. 

Charles’ eyes knew exactly where you were looking. You were supposed to be annoyed that your side of the bed had been stolen, but instead it was a memory that you wanted to snapshot for the rest of your life. 

You were sure that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life, Leo had made sure your daughter was well protected and surrounded by love. Even Charles couldn’t get as close to her as Leo was, firmly establishing himself as her number one. 

Just like you, Charles couldn’t fault the scene that was unfolding in front of you though. Things had gone better than either of you could have ever imagined, all of the concerns that Charles had had long been forgotten now that your family of four were all home together.  

“Why do I feel like we’re never going to be allowed near our daughter ever again?” Charles laughed across at you. 

“I think out of the three of us, she’s definitely Leo’s love before she’s ours,” you added, unable to wipe the smile from your face. “I think they’re going to be the best of friends.” 

Charles hummed in agreement with you, tilting his head down to watch them both once again. If he could pause time forever, he absolutely would. It was all that he had ever dreamt of, and so much more. 

“We’ve got the two most beautiful children in the world.” 

˗ˏˋ ��𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[astropookie]

planets on your 1H and I’ll tell you somwthing about it

betty boop

mercury 1H: overthinking. always persuading people to do what they want. they’re not as many writers as I thought, they seem to be more attracted to careers where they have to communicate with others, like selling, etc.

moon 1H: pretty sensitive. can be a maniac with manipulative and “I always have what I want” issues. they want someone who’ll understand them 100% the way they want even though that’s not posible. they want to be seen. they can like animals a lot.

jupiter 1H: almost philosophers but not. they want to live in the moment but their thinking keeps them hypnotized. they could be drawn to learn and teach others but they have to have in mind that not everyone wants to be their student.

sun 1H: they’re always talking about what they want to do next, their next plan that’d please their desires and would help to create the person they want to become in the future. takes decisions before thinking about others. their attitude brings attention easily.

mars 1H: take a deep breath, you’d worship your goal as you want, just relax. really confident about your sex appeal. too much energy to contain in one body. realize your stamina in some kind of sport so you won’t yell at me. direct. intense? you know what you want and would do wathever to make it reality.

venus 1H: okay pillow princess -I’m joking😭-. there’s a lot of things you want to do but you want others to help you out. dependent. it’s all good until you have to confront the things you don’t like. stop living in your bubble.

uranus 1H: stop thinking you’re so unique and that the world needs people like you to keep spinning -that was me totally roasting myself-. it’s okay you can open up, people would still have different opinions about you and that’s okay, fuck them. what you’re determined to do doesn’t have to always end up as you want.

neptune 1H: yes, people like you. yes, people adore you but for what? for showing them a person you’re not just because their idea of you wasn’t yourself? also, go outside your head and look what kind of people surrounds you. there’s a conflict between finding your identity bc you weren’t showing how you truly felt all this time.

saturn 1H: just bc you had a trauma doesn’t mean it would repeat and that if it does it won’t traumatized you as before. it would be different, it doesn’t mean you’d feel better👅 just follow your advices. you’re too stubborn to be in tune with your emotions. you’re not gonna have control about everything.

pluto 1H: too paranoiac. they’re not following you pls stop 😭. they keep asking why and when and every question you’d imagine just because they don’t trust you. pretty attractive though, pretty mysterious. people want to k more and more about you bc you give them nothing. magnetic.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ/ᐠ - ˕ -マ.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ♡ ⋆ ˖ ݁ . ₍^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^₎ ༘⋆૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა

ꕤ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

ꕤ English is not my first language.

ꕤ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[phantasm-echo]

POV: you wake up in the middle of your own autopsy with force powers then immediately get brainwashed into falling to the dark side

I was reminded of the fact that I haven’t drawn inquisitor!fives’ autopsy scars in way too long so here I am, delivering a few too many Fives 💀

Anyway I know I don’t post much about the AU on here so props to anyone who knows what’s going on here even slightly, I’ve decided to nerf siren!echo (who WAS part of this AU yes I know quite random) but since him being turned into a siren kinda limits what I can do with him story wise he is now an AU of the AU.

That means the name I came up with for the au (dead mean walking/swimming or dmw(s) as I’ve been tagging it) is kinda irrelevant. I’ll just call this the inquisitor fives AU but if you have any AU name suggestions feel free to drop them.

Here are some of the major factors of the AU:

It gets worse before it gets better

(WARNING: there are quite a few heavy topics covered in the AU such as torture, dehumanisation and su*cidal thoughts, so pls read at your own discretion)

- fives wakes up in the middle of his own autopsy with force sensitivity, then gets brainwashed into falling to the Dark Side by Palpatine. As an Inquisitor, he does not remember anything about his life because those memories were blocked by Palpatine.

- Palpatine discovers that Fives is essentially immortal, and any injuries inflicted on him will heal no matter how bad.

- when echo gets rescued from skako minor, he is recalled to Kamino for experimentation, first of all so they can figure out what the Techno Union did to him, second of all to see how he survived his injuries. Nala se, who knows that fives came back to life, theorises that since he and echo were tube twins they share the “immortality”. He is kept on Kamino for VERY extensive experimentation where terrible things happen to him (cough vivisection cough lobotomy) and so never joins Clone Force 99 even if he did work with them on Anaxes.

- Fives in this time is sent out on many missions by Palpatine that involve him unaliving many people, and after the rise of the Empire he hunts a few Jedi.

- Fox, who throughout the war had experienced many blackout missions where he woke up afterwards covered in blood, is the last living Coruscant Guard commander. (Thorn dies, stone vanishes one day, Thire mistakes Vader for a Jedi and pays the price) Despite the best efforts of his son secretary Dogma (no way!?) Fox has very little will to live, is extremely depressed and borderline suicidal, he would like nothing more than to bite the dust, but still feels he has a duty to the very few remaining corries and so tries to keep it together (he is failing)

- one day Palpatine decides he doesn’t need Fox to do his bidding anymore since he has much better assets at his disposal (Fives), and decides it would be ironic to sic his pet clone inquisitor onto Fox. Fives still doesn’t remember anything, and only knows that Fox is responsible for the main scars on his body and believes fox is the reason he doesn’t remember most of his life, and so sets out to kill fox. They battle it out (ref to that one animation wip I posted) and fives is on the verge of killing fox (who didn’t really try to fight that much, like I said he would very much like to die and dying at the hand of the vod he “killed” seems fitting to him) when he gets a sudden vision of echo.

- all fives knows is echo is extremely important to him and must be rescued and that snaps him out of palpatine’s control. He knows he probably can’t rescue echo alone, and since fox has already been betrayed by the empire he decides “fuck it” and basically kidnaps fox and they run. They make a deal, that once echo has been found, Fives will put Fox out of his misery (fox feels that fives should be the only person to kill him, and only goes along with the plan because he refuses to let anyone else kill him)

- fox and fives proceed to go on an intergalactic road trip to “rescue echo” even though neither of them know how to do that. They become closer friends throughout, and fives slowly regains bits and pieces of the Before

- meanwhile during the destruction of Kamino, the bad batch stumble on echo and rescue him and he stays with them for a little bit before leaving with Rex

- meanwhile Dogma helps the rest of the remaining Corries desert, kills too many storm troopers, and tries to go after his buir fox and the bastard inquisitor who kidnapped him

This is the main stuff you need to know for the AU haha so if you’ve got new name suggestions I’m all ears ty!!

[rememberwren]

Threshold

Simon asks you to take his virginity, just not in so many words. Or any words at all, really. 5.7 k

cw: virgin!Simon, PIV, oral sex f and m receiving, stop and start sex, lack of communication (typical Simon), poor writing, soft!Simon, hints at past trauma, contraception.

-

A Ghost shaped shadow falls over the table. Your eyes lift to find him standing there, the neck of his beer bottle held loosely in his hand. His mask is drawn down below his chin, revealing to you one of your favorite parts of him: his mouth. Simon has a pretty mouth, scarred though it is. Maybe you have such an affinity for it because it is so often hidden away from your sight, or maybe it’s what that mouth is capable of, being just as likely to crack a poor dad joke as it is to cut a grown man to the bone with just a few words. 

He takes the seat across from you, the screeching of the chair on the floor lost to the ambient sounds of the pub. The others are playing pool (Gaz is taking all of them to task), and the place is packed with bodies, a cacophony of voices and laughter. Feeling overstimulated, you had sequestered yourself away to this little corner hoping to catch your breath and tether yourself back to the earth instead of spending the rest of the night in a dissociated haze. 

The sight of Ghost is like a light slap to the cheek, rousing you from your stupor. Lights burn brighter. Sounds are sharper. If you wrack your brain you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve ever been singled out by Ghost, so you know whatever is about to happen is out of the ordinary. Leaning in, you lace your fingers together on the table top and nearly have to shout to be heard as you say: “What can I do for you, Ghost?” 

“We should hook up,” he says. Then he takes a long drink from his bottle, eyes sharp and dark where they are narrowed in on you over the top. A sniper’s eyes. 

“What?” you shout back, positive that you have misheard him. 

He shrugs. He won’t repeat himself. 

“Me—and you?”

He raises his brows, looking around the empty table as if to ask, Who else?

“Why?”

He takes another drink, and you see him mulling over his potential answers this time, sucking on his teeth as he thinks. What you wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in his head. He’s got you on tenterhooks, leaning forward onto your elbows, fingers absently (anxiously) playing with a condensation ring left by someone else’s drink earlier in the night. 

Finally, he says, “Why not?”

-

His hand rests low on your back as the two of you say goodbye to the others. You see the downright thunderstruck looks Gaz and Soap throw at each other at your announcement that Ghost is driving you home, but the deeper meaning hardly registers. Who cares if everyone knows that you’re taking Ghost home to fuck him? You’re both adults; you need no one’s permission. Still, as soon as you are outside, you press your palms to your heated cheeks, wondering how you will be able to face any of them in the future. 

“You driving?” you ask him. 

He lifts his hand, showing you the keys in his palm. He doesn’t open the car door for you—not that you had really expected him to. It isn’t as if this is a date. It’s just two adults hooking up.

Inside, he shifts the vents towards you and turns on the heat, soothing the goosebumps that had begun to bloom on your arms. He waits until you’ve buckled your seatbelt before backing out and onto the street. It’s only then that you remember what Soap says about Ghost’s driving. You wish you had a second seatbelt. 

“So what brought all this on?” you ask, feeling remarkably shy in the passenger seat. You’re beginning to sober up from your drinks at the pub, not that you had ever been that drunk to begin with. Maybe this was a mistake. You’re already suffering from nerves, and you haven’t even gotten back to your apartment yet. How were you supposed to fuck Ghost without looking like a fawn, your knees knocking together coltishly, nauseous from anxiety? 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits. 

Alright. Downright digestible news. Before tonight, you wouldn’t have even considered you and Ghost friends, necessarily. More like friend-adjacent, thanks to your mutual friendship with Johnny. It’s good to know that apparently you had caught his eye somehow, even if it was by being the only woman among a male-dominated group of friends. 

You can’t leave it alone. “But why?” 

“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” he asks, like he’s not a person, like he’s only ever heard about what it’s like to be one from a friend of a friend. “They think about fucking each other. Don’t you think about fucking me?” 

Your mouth goes dry. You do. You think about fucking Ghost a lot than one might expect for how few minimal interactions you’ve had. Being perfectly honest, tonight is sort of becoming a dream come true. You’d had an attraction for Ghost ever since you’d met him, even before he’d taken the mask off and you’d seen that he has such a pretty face underneath. 

You’d be willing to examine under a microscope your affection for aloof, seemingly unaffected men on a different day.

Ghost looks at you, trying to interpret your silence, the car swerving slowly into the other lane. You make a sound remarkably close to a screech and reach out to adjust the wheel, but he adjusts it before you do, batting your hand away softly. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he says, eyes firmly on the road now. “I’ll just drop you off.” 

“No, I want to,” you say. “It’s just—it’s been a while for me. I want to, though.” 

Ghost casts you a doubtful glance. He pulls into your apartment complex’s parking lot and the two of you head up together. True to form, you feel his eyes taking in all the new sights: the man behind the desk who doesn’t even look up as you both enter, the elevator that was last inspected two years ago, the proximity to the neighboring apartments.

After you unlock the door but before he crosses the threshold, he reaches up and runs his hand along the top of the doorframe—and easily pulls away your spare key. For a moment he holds it between you both, staring. He seems nearly as surprised as you are by his own actions. Reaching out, he sets it down on the end table just beyond the entry and says: “You couldn’t find a better hiding place for that?” 

“Goddamnit, Ghost,” you whine, slipping off your shoes. “You’re not here to assess my, my security measures. You’re here to fuck me. Will you get in?”

He comes in and makes a circle of the living space, his steps silent in a way you’ve never been able to replicate, not even here in your own living space. You cross your arms, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he think you a slob? A terrible interior designer? You told yourself that you didn’t care. The space was yours, and yours alone, and you liked it well enough. He could survive being in it for one night.

“What’s the verdict?” you ask after the silence stretches too thin. 

“It’s nice,” he says. Then he amends, or perhaps adds: “It’s you.” 

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Do you…want a drink?”’ 

“No,” he says, taking off his jacket and resting it on the arm of the couch. “Want you to c’mere.” 

Your feet obey before your mind even thinks to question it, padding across the living room in your socks until you stand in front of where he has seated himself on your frayed, careworn loveseat. He looks up at you, eyes dark and all-seeing. His hands find your hips, testing the width of them, and he makes you feel like something small, something precious, something to be cradled in the palm of his hand like a gem or jewel.

“Sit down,” he says. So you sit beside him, close enough to breathe in his clean scent. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “As soon as you say you’ll let me.” 

“I’ll let you.” 

His lips are soft as they look, mouth warm and insistent as he coaxes you to part your lips and taste him—as if you need the incentive. He tastes like Price’s whiskey that he had sipped at the bar, like he would settle warm in your belly and everywhere else. His hand relaxes his hold on your chin, choosing instead to cup your jaw, suffusing warmth throughout your cheek. 

It turns into the longest makeout session you’ve had since you were a teenager. You kiss until your jaw aches, until your lips are raw, until you’re throbbing between your legs. Each time you try to move things along, Ghost gently deflects your advances, seeming content to kiss you for ages. If this is how he fucks, it will be an all night affair. 

“Ghost please,” you mutter against his mouth when you feel liable to burst, when he won’t even let you slip a hand beneath his t-shirt. 

“Here,” he mutters, hauling you onto his lap. That’s headed in the right direction. Your thighs spread obscenely wide to accommodate him, lowering yourself until you feel that hard line beneath his jeans. Instinct has you lining yourself up until you can rub off against him, a choked sound rising up in the back of your throat at the blissful friction. 

He sighs into your mouth, a trembling little exhale of air, his hands finding your hips and pinning you in place. Pulling back, he mutters: “None of that.” 

“Why not?” you pant. “Feels good.” 

“I’m trying not to embarrass myself. Work with me.”

The two of you move to the bedroom. You stand on legs that are already shaking, stripping clothes off along as you go: socks here, leggings there. The typical anxious thoughts have just started spiraling in your head—what underwear are you wearing? Have you shaved recently enough? Is the light flattering? When did you last change the sheets?—when Ghost catches you, looping his forearm around your waist and pulling you back against his firm chest. 

“I wanted to undress you,” he says against the nape of your neck. 

“I can put the clothes back on if you like.” 

“Think I’ll just do the rest myself, if it’s all the same to you.” 

His hands are remarkably gentle for his line of work as he helps you out of your shirt, your arms lifting obligingly to help him. The light from the lamp in the corner is actually quite flattering, casting shadows across you both in a way that is artful. His fingertips, calloused but careful, trace up the lengths of your arms and around to your back. 

He fumbles a little with the clasp of your bra. 

“I hate those things,” you breathe once he finally gets it figured out, coaxing the straps off your shoulders. 

“Me too,” he says in that dry, bland way that you’ve come to associate with his humor.

All that’s left are your panties. He presses you back onto the bedspread and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, peeling them off your thighs. Your legs try to close on instinct, but he is quick to wedge himself between them, thumbs finding the creases where your thighs meet your pelvis and stroking the sensitive skin until you don’t know whether to laugh from being tickled or cry from being teased. 

“Fuckin’ pretty, aren’t you?” he murmurs, eyes on your pussy. Maybe he’s talking to it and not to you. “Want to get my mouth on you. Can I?” 

God, how long has it been since you’ve gotten head? You nod, near frantic. Even if he’s no good, some effort will be better than nothing. Besides, a part of you has high hopes for Ghost as a lover; so far he has been thorough and careful, both points in his favor. He leans up and kisses you again, your nipples brushing against his t-shirt, reminding you that you are naked while he is still entirely dressed. He seems content, and as desperate as you are to see him naked, you’re even more desperate not to break this blissful little soap bubble you both have somehow managed to find yourselves in. 

Nudging your head up and to the side with the tip of his nose, he trails his mouth down your neck, tasting your skin and searching for your most sensitive spots. When he finds them, he drags his teeth against them softly until your heels are digging into the bed beneath you, hips up and searching for any kind of friction, even if you have to rub yourself against his jeans to find it. 

Ghost continues down over the plains of your chest, teasing first one nipple and then the other with his mouth and his hands, testing the heft of your breasts in his huge palms. He explores your body with an admirable single-mindedness, not the perfunctory, half-hearted way some of your past lovers had. His eyes are never far from your own, categorizing your reactions; for what purpose, you aren’t sure. 

After kissing a line right over your navel, he grips your thighs in his hands and spreads you wide. That close to your cunt, he must be able to smell how desperate you are, must be able to see the way it drips from you. He ghosts a thumb along your slit, turns it towards himself until your slick catches on the light. That thumb disappears into his mouth, and it takes all your breath and all your thoughts with it. His hum of approval vibrates against your calves which are pressed to either side of his chest. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

You nod, unable to trust your voice. 

He leans down and kisses your folds, chaste and sweet as he might have kissed your mouth. He uses the fingers of one hand to spread you open, and there is a rush of warmth as he lets the saliva pool on his tongue and then flood against your sex, leaning down to chase it with his mouth. 

He is all merciful tongue and lips, no hint of teeth as he licks and sucks at that hidden knot of flesh at the top of your sex. He barely pays your entrance any attention—which is fine by you, honestly, his tongue is direly needed elsewhere—but shifts an arm free to sling it over your pelvis, palm resting over your mons, thumb pulling back that hood that seeks to keep your most sensitive parts hidden from him. 

Your hands grip fistfuls of your bedspread, unsure if he’s willing to let you touch his hair. The noises—gasps and whines and choked groans—coming out of your mouth would have your soul leaving your body if only you could hear them over the sound of blood rushing through your ears. 

He’s strong, fighting against your natural urges to clamp your thighs shut around his head. Instead he presses you open wider, leaving no where for you to run to or hide as the pleasure in your pelvis blossoms, swells into some sweet fruit that bursts all over his tongue, your back arching into a neat bow. 

You find out then that Ghost eats pussy the same way he kisses. He seems content to lap you clean and continue sucking at your swollen flesh, and even though you don’t think you could cum again, it still feels good. You melt into the mattress, boneless. Against your better judgement, your hand finds his hair, tucking back the longest strands that just begin to tickle the tops of his ears.  

His mouth stutters against you at the touch, losing its easy rhythm. He pulls back until he is out of your reach. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, throat raw. Your hand falls to rest on your soft belly, feeling exhausted.

“You can touch. Just don’t pull. I don’t—“ he stops, like he is searching for the right words. “—I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“Not at all?” 

“No.” 

“Me neither. Would you kiss me again?” 

His only answer is to shift upwards so that he can meet your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, still confined in his jeans, brushes against your thighs. One of your hands wanders down his firm chest, down his belly, til you can map the shape of his erection with your fingers. His biceps tense around you where he braces himself on the bed to keep from putting his weight on you, head dropping til his forehead rests against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

“You should get undressed,” you remind him. 

He lets out a breath through his nose that sounds suspiciously like a sigh, leaning back onto his haunches to tug his shirt off over his head. You stare, awed. He’s so thick, all over: muscles hidden beneath a nice layer of soft padding, chest hair broken up by the odd scar here or there. You reach out toward his belt but he stops you. 

“I can do it,” he says. He stands and strips himself naked in one fell swoop, like ripping off a bandaid. He’s thick here too, just as you had suspected: thighs and cock included. Already you can feel the phantom stretch of him between your legs and in your jaw. It burns away the last bits of sleepiness your orgasm had given you. 

Throughout your perusal, he stands still, at attention, mouth turned downward in its most comfortable frown, meeting your eyes with an almost obstinate persistence. You kneel up and crawl to the edge of the bed, letting your legs dangle off of it. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“Alright,” he says. 

You start at his shoulders, tracing over the broad width of them. Everything about him displays his strength. Even his scars, which some might consider signs of failure, only showed his persistence for survival. You ran your hands across his pecs, pausing to toy with one pale, pink nipple, so soft beneath your fingers. With each breath he takes, his abs are thrown into sharp relief. 

“God, Ghost,” you mutter, tracing a line down to his cock. 

“I know,” he says dully, though what he knows, you’re unsure of. “Condom’s in my pants.”

“We don’t need one.”

“I don’t want any surprises.”

“You won’t get any. Here.” You take his hand and guide it to your upper arm where your implant sits just beneath the surface of your skin. He flinches, unsure what he is touching. “It’s my contraception.”

“That’s horrifying,” he mutters. 

“Do what I do—don’t think of it.” 

“Right.”

You shift backwards up into the bed, thighs falling open invitingly. Instead of filling the space between them, he lays next to you, rolling you til you both face each other. 

He runs his calloused palm up the length of your leg and grips your thigh, tugging it up and over his hip until you are spread open for him. There’s a question in his eyes, a slowness to his movement that gives you ample time to deny him this if you don’t want it—but you do. God you do. You ache for it—for him. 

He reaches down and slips two fingers into you, easy as anything in your wet, relaxed state. The fullness is divine, even more so when he decides you’re ready for that third finger, the one that stretches your entrance and makes you hiss a breath through your teeth. 

Ghost doesn’t even fuck you with them, just leaves you stuffed full of his fingers while he kisses you more. He waits until you’re the one shifting and thrusting against his touch before pulling out and wiping your wetness across your tender folds. 

He grips his cock, guides it to your entrance. Hesitates. 

“Please,” you mutter, face flushed with heat, hoping he doesn’t want you to beg. You’ll debase yourself, but it will be painful. 

Whether or not it was your word he was waiting for, he slips inside you, a near-unbearable fullness and pressure that has you burying your face in his chest. His own breaths are stuttered, shallow as he sinks as deep into you as your body will allow and no deeper. Once he’s inside you, he seems to relax, like some great race has been run, some threshold has been crossed and now he can rest. 

“Let me know when I can move,” he says, running his hand up and down the length of your back, down over the curve of your ass. 

“Not yet,” you beg. “Feels like you’re in my fucking throat. Jesus, Ghost.” 

His cock twitches. You both suck in a breath. 

“Don’t say that shit,” he mutters, breathless, fingers digging grooves into the soft flesh of your hips. “Lean back. I want to look at you.”

You uncurl yourself away from his chest, tilting your chin up towards him. The last twinges of pain in your cunt have receded until all that lasts is that ceaseless fullness. He moves at last, laying down his arm so you can rest your head on his bicep. Only then are you aware of how painfully intimate this position is. There is nowhere to turn away to, nowhere to hide. You’ve had sex with partners less intimate than this. 

“You can move,” you assure him, hoping for a distraction. 

He takes a breath so deep his chest brushes your own. The pace he sets is downright agonizingly slow, less thrusting and more of a solid grind against you that has you a shivering mess in his arms. There’s little chance you could cum at this pace, but it feels good, and all of it is strangely secondary to him. 

There’s a look in his eyes. You don’t understand it. Is it tenderness? Genuine affection? Gratitude? You’ve never had sex with this much eye contact before, never felt like breaking that gaze could take you out of the hazy headspace you’re in. Ghost finds your hand and grips it—doesn’t lace your fingers together but instead holds them like a tiny bundle of sticks in his giant hand.

He rests his forehead against your own. His eyes fall shut for just a moment, and it gives you the freedom to examine his features freely: the low brow, the curve of his nose, the pink scars tinged pale purple in the low light. You feel like you’re seeing him for the first time. You feel like you’re the first person to ever see him. 

That strange thought starts a domino effect in your mind, sets off a chain reaction, slides a dozen puzzle pieces into a Ghost shaped puzzle and all at once it hits you. 

“Ghost—stop.” 

He stills, eyes opening. Reverses, withdrawing from inside you. “What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you assure him. “But—I’m sorry. You’ve done this before, right?” 

He doesn’t respond. He’s meeting your eyes, but he has that obstinate, pained look again, like he’d rather be looking straight at the sun. 

Your voice pitches upward with a hint of panic. “Ghost??”

“Fucking hell,” he groans, rolling onto his back, cock slipping free and leaving you feeling bereft. The mattress dips, making you sway toward him. You shift away.  “What gave me away?”

“Oh my god. You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Bloody wish,” he mutters, arm thrown over his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The fuck would I tell you for?” He sounds genuinely baffled. 

“So I could—I don’t know! So I could have known!” 

“Didn’t want you to fucking know,” he says, letting his arm down so that he can glare at you fiercely. At the sight of you huddled at the other side of the bed, naked, arms wrapped around yourself, the fury seems to melt out of him. His shoulders sag. He palms at his eyes briefly, like a headache is brewing.

“Fucked it,” he mutters to himself, going for his jeans and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on. “Fucked it all.” 

“You didn’t,” you offer hastily, though it does feel a little fucked. Suddenly you realize that your chance to fuck Ghost is slipping through your fingers like so much sand. What had started as a dream come true was turning into a nightmare, and you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him leave. Not like this. 

At your words, he tosses you a look, and how a human can fit so much skepticism in a single expression is beyond your belief.

“Really. I just wish I’d known so I could have been better for you.” You don’t realize the truth of the statement until you say it. The last thing you wanted was for him to look back on this moment with disappointment. 

He shakes his head and mutters: “You’re mad.” 

“We could still—you know.” 

He stops, jeans halfway pulled up his thick thighs. “What, fuck?”

You find a loose thread on your bedspread and twist it around your finger, shrugging. Aiming for cool and missing by a mile. 

“You want to.” 

“Well, yeah.” You abandon the thread, feeling too exposed. Tucking your legs up toward your chest, you wrap your arms around yourself. “Like you said in the car. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“About fucking me.”

“Are these questions?” you ask, face warm. “Yes, I think about it. Thought about it. I have thoughts.” 

His lips twitch, a ghost of a smile, gone before you can imagine what a full-fledged grin would even begin to look like. “You’re serious.”

“Really serious,” you offer, sensing that he might be coming back around to the idea himself. Though you’re no vixen, you let your body unfold just to watch the way his eyes drop to look you over. You never knew eyes could be hungry. “Pants off? Please?”

He’s still and quiet for several long moments, but at length he shoves them back down his thighs, naked once more. He’s only half hard, but no less intimidating in this state. You eagerly shift to the edge of the bed and off, back down onto your knees in front of him, palms against his thighs. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, aware that this is one of your most flattering angles. 

“Go on,” he says. He sounds doubtful. You are too, unsure if you can find the same rhythm you both had going before. Unsure if you want to, now that you know him better. 

You take one of his hands and coax it into cupping your cheek, then slide it back and up into your hair. “Don’t pull. No pain, right?” 

Something hard in his expression softens marginally. His fingertips scratch gently at your scalp, a silent praise as he agrees: “No pain.”

Leaning forward, you nuzzle at his cock. It is velvety soft against your cheek. His scent here is more concentrated, masculine and warm. Above you, he sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

How much you enjoy giving head usually directly depends on your partner, and Ghost is brilliant to suck off. Some might find him stoic or unaffected, but his expressions are just understated. When you place an open mouthed kiss against his shaft, his fingers twitch in your hair. When you take the tip past your lips to rest heavily against your tongue, he lets out a shaky exhale. By the time he’s nudging the back of your throat while you work the excess inches of his cock in your fist, he is grunting in between in sharp breaths. You find yourself becoming hyper attuned to his reactions until each minuscule motion feels exaggerated to your brain. A twitch becomes a caress. A sigh a moan.  

“I’ll cum in your mouth if you don’t stop,” he grits out. 

You pull off, jaw aching, lips slick. “I’d rather you came inside me.” 

He pulls you to your feet and kisses you. All the kisses tonight, and this one has been the most honest, the most needful, the most raw. Had he never even kissed anyone before tonight? you wonder. It’s hard to believe that the answer might be yes. The way he kisses melts your brain, fizzles your thoughts. 

“Ghost,” you breathe when he gives you a moment to come up for air, his mouth dipping low to your collarbone where he sucks softly. 

“You know my name,” he says, mouth against your skin. “Use it.”

Simon. You have to say it in your mind first to get used to it. Simon. Simon. Then he finds one of those sensitive spots in the crook of your neck and you are whispering it, voice trembling more than you’d like: “Simon.” 

“I like the way you say it,” he admits. “You’ve got a pretty mouth.”

“So do you.” 

He snorts softly, shaking his head, like you have said something very silly. 

“Up.” He grips your waist and helps you up onto the bed. You scoot back, making room for him between your thighs, and he fills the space so fucking snugly. His cock nudges at your sex and reminds you of how you ache all anew. 

This time when he slips inside you, it punches a sound out of you that is remarkably close to a whine, your toes curling. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you gasp, hands scrabbling for purchase against his broad shoulders, careful not to scratch him. 

His head drops, forehead resting against your own, eyes shut. “Fuck’s right. Not a chance I’ll last after being in your mouth.”

“Wait for me,” you choke out, working one hand between you both until your fingers can find your clit. The angle isn’t the best, not with him so close, but it’s made up for by how blissfully full you are, by how Simon’s arms are trembling where he holds himself up above you. Briefly you let your fingers take a side trip, teasing his cock where he stretches you open, and Simon groans. Fuck, it goes right to your head. It makes you feel like you could walk on water. 

You find his mouth and kiss him, kiss him til your head is light with lack of air, kiss him til your thighs are shaking with how close you are from your own expert touch. 

“Fuck me, now, fuck me please,” you beg into his mouth.

He draws back until just the thick head sits inside you, giving your fingers room to work for a moment before he thrusts back in slow and smooth, pinning your fingers against your clit and that simple pressure—it’s enough. Your body bows against him, choked sounds lost against his mouth as he swallows them whole, fucking you so softly through the peak of your pleasure. 

Simon stiffens not a handful of moments later, cock twitching inside you. The burst of warmth is pleasant, making you shiver. He drops down til his chest presses against your own, careful not to crush you with his weight. 

“Don’t pull out yet.” 

His softening cock twitches inside you. All he says is: “Alright.” 

You hum, warm and sated. Sleepy. “You sleeping over?”

“Didn’t plan on it,” he murmurs, lips against your shoulder. 

“But the walk of shame is a valuable part of the experience.”

“‘M not ashamed of fucking you,” he says. 

You’re strangely touched. “Me neither.”

“Did you fake it?” he wonders.

“I’m no good at faking,” you admit. He leans up so his eyes can scan your face, looking for any hint of deception. Whatever he finds must satisfy his curiosity because he lowers his head back to rest against your shoulder. 

He rolls you both onto your sides, and his soft cock slips free with a rush of seed. You make an unhappy sound in the back of your throat. Afterward is always your least favorite part, when you feel so empty.

Simon hushes you as he slips from the bed. “Bathroom,” he tells you. 

“Through there.”

“Not for me, for you.”

“Why?” you whine, tired and petulant. 

“Because pissing afterward is a valuable part of the experience for you. Can you walk, or did I break you?” 

When you don’t answer, he grips one of your ankles and pulls you toward the end of the bed. You shriek, rolling onto your belly, but it’s no use. Looping his arm around your waist, he tosses you over his shoulder and carries you to the bathroom like you weigh nothing more than a sack of potatoes, which is patently untrue. 

“Are you going to watch me go, too?” you ask. 

“Kinky,” he says, already disappearing into the other room. 

By the time you clean yourself up and take care of any “valuable post-sex experiences”, Simon has dressed himself. His clothes are gone from the floor in your bedroom. You can’t help but feel disappointed; a part of you really had been hoping he’d stay.  Slipping on your panties and a clean shirt, you chase after him hoping he hasn’t left only to find him toying with your spare key at your door. 

The way he reaches for your hand and draws you to him soothes some of the ache of seeing out. He thumbs your pulse and says: “I have to be ready to leave for work at a moment’s notice or I’d stay.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“You’re lying,” he says, pressing his thumb more firmly against your wrist. “Don’t lie to me, or I’ll know. Do you want tonight to happen again?” 

“Are you seriously copping a feel of my pulse to see if I’m being truthful?”

“Evading the question,” he says, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Thanks anyway, for tonight. I’ll see myself out.”

“Yes! Alright, yes. Of course I do.” 

His mouth quirks upwards, his grin a little crooked thanks to the scar, but no less precious. His thumb strokes softly. “I don’t need your pulse to tell when you’re lying. I just like to feel it racing when you look at me.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest. How embarrassing is that? 

“Next time, I’ll stay,” he promises. “Alright? Repeat it back to me.” 

“Next time you’ll stay.” 

“Next time,” he murmurs softly, turning away. He takes the stairs.  

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so y/n is secretly a god of keeping an eye on this gravity falls universe and is trying to protect the kids because she's seen how they died so many times and full on just breaks down in front of Stan and ford telling them

Ngl this was kinda shit

You don’t know how much more you could take of having beer witnessed to so many timelines where the twins died far too young.

You didn’t know how much more of their suffering you were forced to watch on the sidelines while being reminded by beings of a power far greater than yours that there was to be no divine intervention. None whatsoever as it was a taboo amongst gods and was punishable by having the elder gods remove your immortality and take away any and all divine powers from you.

You didn’t care about the consequences of your own actions when you fled from your home in hopes of helping Dipper and Mabel survive one timeline, to grow older and live long happy lives unlike their alternate selves that you couldn’t save. You were sick and tired of seeing the same end result for the Pine twins timeline after timeline after timeline. This time it was going to be different, and you were going to make sure of it as you watched through the bark of trees as they ventured off on their next monster of the week, always coming back to the shack unscathed.

‘Hey great aunt/ grunkle y/n!’ They’d both greet you with wide smiles despite their messy appearances.

‘You two looked like you had some fun today. Find anything investing to share?’ You’d ask them but you already knew the answer. You had used your power to ward off the sneaky pack of Direwolves from mauling the kids and grant them a quick escape, a victory unfortunately not shared by their alternate selves, who never came back from the encounter. You still remembered the pained screams as they were deeply etched into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night.

The twins shared a look as thought debating whether or not to tell you, only to mentally agree on the later as they both looked back at you and said in unison; ‘nope! Just some scrapes and cuts, nothing interesting at all!’ Before they left to go to their room. As soon as they left the smile of your face faltered as you let out an uneven sigh, your hands covering your eyes as you softly wept into them, not understanding how cruel life must be to condemn the sweetest and bravest children you knew to countless deaths with each one being worse then the last.

You didn’t care that you’d be punished for your actions, you didn’t care that you’d be ridiculed and berated by the elder gods for being too human for a god, but you would much rather risk it all if it meant that all your effort and energy would bring forth a timeline where the twins emerged victorious; They deserved as much.

‘I can’t let it happen again.’ You whispered to yourself.

You must’ve been too occupied by the turmoil inside your own head that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps came towards you, nor noticed that whoever was walking towards you had now sat themselves on either side of you until a hand was placed on your shoulder were you finally drawn back to reality.

‘Are you okay? Dipper and Mabel said they could hear you sobbing.’ Ford said and you saw that both he and Stan had come to check on you.

‘I can’t.’ You muttered.

‘Can’t what?’ Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I can’t watch them die again, not this time.’ You said as you wiped your eyes clean of tears. ‘I’ve watched enough of the same story come to violent and unfair endings and got told that’s just how the way things are.’

Ford and Stan shared a look, not knowing the best course of action to take in order to comfort you when you were talking in vague and ominous riddles. So Ford gently moved you so that you were looking at him directly, ‘what do you mean by that? Who’s them?’ You breathed in deeply as you mustered up the strength to tell Ford and Stan a truth you’ve been keeping to yourself in order to keep them all safe, but the Pines Family were a curious bunch and couldn’t help but be drawn to things they shouldn’t, while also having strange things be drawn to them in vice versa.

‘I haven’t been all that truthful about who I am and I only did so for a good reason, to keep you all safe.’ You said as you held onto Ford’s arms while looking between him and Stan, ‘I’m a deity who came here to Gravity Falls after bearing witness to multiple timelines where Dipper and Mabel don’t make it out alive from their encounters with the anomalies of this very town. I’ve risked everything to be here, even my own powers and immortality to keeping these kids safe in hopes of seeing the fruits of my labour be proven fruitful.’ You continued your admittance as you saw the conflicting emotions cut across their faces the more you spoke of your true origin.

‘What do you mean that dipper and Mabel die in each timeline you’ve seen?’ Stan then asked, his face set in agitation, ‘you’re a god aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have intervened and save them regardless? I thought you gods were meant to be omnipotent or whatever?’

‘That’s not how it works, is it.’ Ford said as he was slowly putting the pieces together while his thumbs caressed your shoulders reassuringly.

‘No.’ You said softly as a new wave of tears started to cascade down your cheeks. ‘The elder gods decreed long ago to forbid divine intervention of all kinds. They claim that there was nothing that can be done to change what has already been foreseen, but I couldn’t do it.’ You whimpered as you looked at Stan. ‘I just couldn’t when I knew that I could at least change one timeline, just one. Im sorry.’ You finished as Stan and Ford felt their hearts hurt for you, a god who was going against their entire way of life to keeping their grand niece and nephew safe, all the while feeling immense guilt consumed you from the inside out over the other realities.

Stan then moved so that he was just as in your line of sight as Ford was and began to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. ‘I guess that explains all those times I’ve seen you silently stare out into the woods.’ He began jokingly as everything leading up to now started to make sense, how you’d always put yourself between the children and any potential danger or how you’d watch over them like a hawk and making sure they were in your line of sight no matter what as though afraid that something terrible would happen if they weren’t. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for them sweetheart, but it’s time you took care of yourself just as well.’ Stan then adds as he and Ford escorted you back into the shack, much to your confusion as you looked between them.

‘I cant! I have to make sure-‘

‘The twins are fast asleep in their beds y/n. They’re safe, you have done enough for today. Now if it time for you to rest.’ Ford gently reprimanded you as you suddenly began to feel the weight of fatigue that you had been putting off for several days now.

‘Yeah don’t go worrying yourself so much, or else you’ll get grey hairs like me and point Dexter over here. Let us take over once in a while okay honey?’ Stan says as he and Ford tried to get your mind off of your mission when they both saw just how much you’ve run yourself into the ground, how reluctant you were to relinquishing control and allowing yourself to rest up from the countless days of no sleep nor sustenance. They were pretty sure you hadn’t looked at yourself in a mirror to know just how badly you looked, nor the haunted you seem to get in your eyes now and then as though you were recalling traumatic events.

‘But-‘

‘Nope.’ Stan interrupted.

‘Can’t I just-‘

‘I’m afraid we can’t let you do that. God or not, you need rest. We’ll keep the kids safe in your stead.’ Ford cuts you off this time as he and Stan managed to wrangle you into bed after a brief struggle where you realised just how badly your limbs ached snd screamed with a desire to rest or how your eyelids felt heavier then lead.

‘Promise?’ You asked them sleepily.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while Ford squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘We promise, you’ve done your part so please, let us do ours.’

[southernsolarpunk]

I think we a group need to consider what the early “zero waste” movement did in the 2010s. You know. They’d keep “all” their waste in a glass jar, live in a nice apartment somewhere in LA where they had easy access to a refill store and didn’t stop to consider that just existing in the US creates waste they couldn’t see.

I remember watching a video in 9th grade (around 2013) about a chick who did that and even then I was like “that’s bullshit” and it really turned me off the zero waste movement.

The inherent classism of a lot of zero waste purists created a wall between me and them, where instead of them admitting their privilege, they simply said “anyone can do this”. Most people can’t. A zero waste refill store does not exist in my state! Sure, I could try online but this is 1. More expensive- something my dirt poor family could not do at the time and 2. Creates more carbon emissions!

This isn’t to say zero waste is bad- it’s simply a standard most Americans can’t reach. I think this is why I’m so drawn to solarpunk, because I think solarpunk recognizes the classism that is in a lot of eco-friendly products and movements (something I do think is being addressed- I’ve seen more affordable products now than I did in high school). Solarpunk includes diy- reusing packaging that many of us still have to buy because we can’t afford the eco-friendly version.

Idk I just had some thoughts

[pleaselmhau]

Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!