#but Pinterest board first drawings later

[dammarchy211]

I need like, a pinterest board for what the inside and outside of CRIME hq looks like

[sugudoe]

⋆ ˚ ཐིiཋྀ ˚ ⋆ 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── ✎ ₊· 𝗷𝗷𝗸

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in desperate need of a skin, you, a talented beginner tattoo artist, decides to test your partner and his love for you in a comical way — “ can i tattoo you ? ’’

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i’ve been drawing for a couple of days now, and this is inspired by my sibling ( a tattoo artist ) and their influence on me, cause i too wish i could tattoo myself whenever i’m bored. ALSO i know we all see geto as tough but i had to!! and nanami surprised even me but the vision is visioning, you can not deny. I KNOW you can’t do many tattoos in one setting but please it’s just for plot. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: fluff / crackfic / smau with writing / reader has no gender / english is not my first language / there is mistakes because the app beat my ass sowwy / mentions of needles and pain / foul language / suggestive theme and horny police for nanami

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo ﾉ geto ﾉ nanami

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Satoru is sitting in your chair, ankles fully on display for you, but you’re actually occupied with keeping everything sanitized in the makeshift space of your boyfriend’s spacious room. He is laughing and acting tough until he hears the buzz of the machine, then he stops and gulps.

“Shit, sweets. Don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“It’s too late.” You answer with a devilish smirk, before laughing and putting the pen down. “It’s okay if you don’t want anymore, no pressure.”

Maybe it’s the combo of your puppy eyes with small pout, but Gojo falls for your antics and let you have your way in his skin, it’s takes just a few minutes before you end the drawing of the little ants crawling his ankles. He, obviously, has the limitless off, and that scares him a bit — to feel pain, see dots of his blood. But when he looks at your concentrated face, pain dissolves, and he is happy to have something permanently his made by you, his only love.

By the end, though, he grins at you and asks for another one, bigger, blue! And you make the design and ink him again, before realizing you did not gave him the Suguru cat, but you fall for his dragon. Bitch.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Geto can see black dots in his vision when he lays belly down on the bed. He is a tough guy, been through stuff you have only an ideia about. You could guess by the minimal details and the fucking huge scar on his chest, he has been deeply cut by something. Still, he is scared of the needle you are holding.

But here he is, presenting his blank large and sexy back to you, making you rethink of doing another thing instead of the tattoo, but you have your opportunity and need to grab it.

“My love, are you ready?” You voice has the buzzing sound of the machine in the background, Suguru groans at that.

“Please, beat me to sleep.” It’s all he says before you touch his face. Before you can say anything, he talks again. “I’m fine, I think. I trust you a lot, baby.”

Suguru soon learns how soft and weightless your hand feels, because although something is burning in his back, he thinks is just you rubbing alcohol — that is until he wonders why are you rubbing alcohol for twenty straight minutes now, and then he shifts his face a bit to stare at you. He almost passed out again when he realized the tattoo is already in progress, but he is fine, and simply goes back to his original head position, before deciding to sleep.

Suguru wakes up hours later with this intricate tattoo on his upper back, he smiles and flexes his muscles on the mirror before staring at you, seeing you googling him. Yeah, if you keep looking at him like that and your hands feeling like feather, he may enjoy this whole thing — he does! By the end of the year, his whole torso is designed by you.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Nanami presented you what could be called a slideshow of tattoos he would like to have. Basically he made a pinterest board and added you to put the tattoos you would think he look nice with (basically all you’ve seen).

By saturday, he is wearing a white shirt, showcasing his big arm’s muscles, you get occupied with a little thing before you even start to prepare the living room. Now, he has no shirt anymore.

“So, what did you choose for me, love?” His soothing voice asks you, he is sitting by your dinner table and you smile at him, showing your tablet with the many arts you made based on what both he and you liked.

“Now you pick one and we start.”

“Can I have all of them?” Oh.. “I like the art, you are so talented, love. Let me be your canvas, do what you want.” Yeah, you get occupied again in the day.

It’s nighttime when you crack your bones and look at both of your boyfriend’s arm, all inked up. He stares at you normally, no pain, no heavy breathing. He really was a punk in high school.

“So, since we already did all 12, can we finish the chest as well? I think legs would be nice too, or neck… I can have neck tattoos now!” Nanami says with a energetic voice when both of you are eating pasta later.

“Damn baby, you are getting addicted.” You sit on his lap, eyes focused on the ink all over him. “Yeah, we can do all that.”

[nataliasquote]

Tattoos for troubled minds | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake

Warnings: mentions of scars, tattoo needles, slight internalised homophobia

wc: 3.6k

note: I don’t actually have tattoos (despite wanting one so badly) so this is probably really inaccurate. I do apologise if this doesn’t make sense. also, I hate this so much but the guilt of not posting is eating me alive so I’m sorry

-⧗-

Natasha was a quiet soul. She kept to herself, usually sitting at her own table in the Shield cafeteria, eyes focused on her plate of food as she ate quickly, just wanting to get out of there. None of the other agents dared make conversation with her, too spooked by her fighting skills to approach. But that didn’t bother her. Her hyper independence made her hesitant to trust people.

Clint was the only one she spoke to outside of working hours. They weren’t exactly friends, but she tolerated him enough to flash a small smile if she saw him in the hallways or feel slightly relaxed if they were paired for missions together.

And he liked her too, especially since her first words had been a jab at his choice of weapon.

“Bow and arrow? What did you do, get your training in a forest?”

But he didn’t take offense to it. After all, he’d made the call to save her and she owed him her life. Which is how, two years later, she was sprawled on his couch, chewing on take out pizza for the second time that week with a scowl.

“I think I want a tattoo.”

Clint frowned at her, wondering where her brain cells had disappeared to. “What?”

“You know, the permanent drawing-“

“Yes I know what a tattoo is Tasha,” he rolled his eyes at her teasing smirk, already over her sarcasm. “But you know it’s a bad idea for spies to have unique markings like that.”

Natasha shrugged, tugging up her sleeve to reveal a strange shaped scar across her bicep. “I’d say I’ve got enough of those naturally. And it would be hidden on my ribs or something.”

Clint just shook his head and turned back to his food. He was used to Natasha’s odd comments and her tattoo phase probably wouldn’t last in his eyes. Just like her ‘wanting to be blonde’ phase didn’t.

But it didn’t end. A month later and Natasha had fallen down the rabbit hole that was tattoo designs on pinterest, courtesy of a fellow agent who introduced her to the app. She didn’t understand it at first, but now it was 3am and her tablet screen was still glaring bright in her face, a plethora of images scattered across her screen.

She saved a couple to a board, now set on design and placement, before placing it to one side with a grin on her face. Natasha climbed out of bed and padded over to her mirror, pulling up her shirt and smiling softly to herself. But the dim lamplight made her scars glisten and she caught herself, a sudden feeling of repulsion shuddering through her body. She looked like a freak and no tattoo artist would want to go near that. Her scars weren’t normal and she wasn’t ready for the questions yet.

Tears glazed her eyes over and her arms snaked across her stomach, her reflection in the mirror now blurry. Even as the salty tears dripped down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt, she didn’t step away, too engrossed with how disgusting she felt in her body.

That stubborn hope that the redroom failed to squash out had ignited inside her once more, except this time she just wanted to laugh at it. Natasha would never be normal. She was what they’d made her into, and a tattoo was never going to change that.

Clint noticed the change in her demeanor when she sat down at breakfast. Natasha barely engaged in her usual small talk, more focused on her food in front of her.

“Did you do anymore tattoo research yesterday?” He asked, knowing that would catch her attention. But instead of the usual spark, she remained dejected, stirring her yogurt half heartedly.

“Yeah,” came her response, albeit rather forced.

“There’s probably a lot of places in DC that would kill to tattoo a shield agent.” Nat shot him a look. “Just saying!”

“Sure. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

Clint looked at her with a frown. “Why not?”

Natasha just looked down and tugged at her sleeve, suddenly feeling exposed in her tight fitting suit. The image in the mirror from last night came into her mind and she pushed her food away, no longer hoodie. And beside that, she didn’t trust people she worked with, so how would she trust a complete stranger to add something permanent on her body? Getting a tattoo would be nothing but a dream for her, she knew that, but it still crushed her.

Clint studied his best friend for a moment in thought, before he placed his hand gently on her arm. “I might know someone who can help.” Natasha looked up, now interested. Her face was still stony but Clint knew she was excited. “A friend of Laura’s, we helped her out even before you came here.”

“An agent?” Clint hadn’t mentioned anyone like that before and it confused Natasha.

But Clint shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She came to Laura and I when she was a teenager and had nowhere else to go. And you know my wife-“

“Can’t let anyone suffer,” Natasha finished for him, warmth spreading in her stomach at the thought of the soft woman she’d grown to adore. Laura really did have the biggest heart out of everyone.

“Exactly that. Y/n was fourteen, I think, parents kicked her out of the house. How she got to ours, I’ll never know, but she just appeared on the doorstep one night and Laura melted at the sight of her.” Clint’s expression softened at the memory. “But anyway, what I’m saying is that she’s a tattoo artist. She’s got trust issues just like you and I think she’ll help.”

Natasha scowled at the last part, wanting to protest his comment. But she knew he was right; her trust issues were what got her into this mess in the first place.

“But she’s a kid?”

“No, almost the same age as you,” Clint said with a laugh. “You’ll like her, but she can be a little scary.”

“Scarier than me?”

Clint smirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That glare of hers rivals yours.” This vague description intrigued Natasha and Clint could see the cogs turning in her mind. “She knows what we do and she’s seen my scars. Trust me, they won’t put her off.”

Natasha’s head shot up, staring at her best friend with confusion. Was she that easy to read? Or did he just know her too well?

~~~

With the news of her favourite girls coming back home, Laura had been in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing. Clint had texted to say he was only minutes away so she left the dishes to soak and headed to the porch, anxiously staring at the track beside their house as she waited.

Anyone would have thought she was married to Natasha over Clint by the difference in reactions she gave them. Sure, Clint got a kiss and a hug, but Natasha truly got the special treatment, with Laura scanning her to make sure she wasn’t injured and quizzing her about how she was. Poor Clint was left to grab their bags as the women disappeared into the farmhouse.

Tea was poured and snacks were eaten in the cosy kitchen before the doorbell rang and Laura excused herself, leaving an anxious Natasha on her own for a moment. Muffled voices could be heard but she tried to go against her instincts of listening in and instead busied herself with a loose thread on the tablecloth. She heard footsteps approaching and turned in her chair, ignoring the way her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

The woman who walked in the kitchen doorway was stunning, Natasha couldn’t deny it, and her eyes darted to the patchwork of tattoos that littered her exposed arms. Their eyes met, and Natasha swore she could see the walls up in the other woman’s mind. But it didn’t scare her off. No. It brought her a weird sense of comfort and her body started to relax.

Clad in a black cropped tank and black cargo pants, Y/n hesitated in the doorway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder hitting the wall gently. Laura appeared behind her, gentle hands falling to her shoulders.

“Y/n, this is Natasha, the one I told you about.” The y/h/c girl made no effort to move. “She’s Clint’s partner.” Clearly not much of a talker, Y/n just nodded, not hiding the fact she was scanning Natasha from head to toe. She didn’t trust strangers, but she trusted Laura and Clint who seemed to love Natasha. So maybe she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, you can call me Nat if you want.” No one called her Nat except Laura, but it was a feeble attempt to make the atmosphere more comfortable. Another nod came but Laura smiled.

“Do you want to go set up? All of your stuff is still exactly where you left it,” Laura addressed Y/n who adjusted the grip on her bag and disappeared down the hall without a word. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at Laura who watched her go, a fond look in her eyes. “She does speak, I promise.”

Natasha shook her head, brushing her off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s like a daughter to me, kind of like you are.” Natasha’s cheeks flushed at that. “She doesn’t have anyone except us, so I worry. She’s a real sweetheart though, she’s just been through a lot. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“I’ll be kind, don’t worry.”

Laura couldn’t help but smile as she stirred her tea. “Oh I know. She already likes you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Natasha let out a sigh and started to play with the hem of her zip up jacket. It suddenly felt real, the whole tattoo thing. And whilst she weirdly trusted Y/n, it didn’t help ease her nerves any less.

The redhead sensed a new presence before she spotted her, standing in the doorway just like she was before.

“Ready when you are, Nat.” Her voice was slightly raspy from lack of use and she spoke quietly, almost as if she was scared she’d get into trouble. Natasha smiled softly at the sound of her nickname and squeezed Laura’s hand before she followed the y/h/c girl down the hallway of the house she considered her second home.

Clint’s office had been turned into a makeshift tattoo studio with all new equipment and furniture decorating the small space. The tattoo bed had a fresh paper layer on top and Y/n gestured for Natasha to take a seat.

“Ok, do you have an idea of what you want? And where?” Y/n sat down at a small table and picked up her pen before looking at Natasha expectantly.

“I’ve got a couple of reference pictures on my phone.” The small device was handed over and Y/n swiped between them, nodding in approval before setting it down. “The last one is just for placement ideas.”

“I’ll work up a sketch and you can tell me what needs changing.” Luckily Natasha’s design was incredibly simple and it didn’t take long for Y/n to hold up her page.

Natasha slid off the bed and slowly walked over, not wanting to startle the skittish girl. But Y/n just moved over, clearly welcoming the redhead into her space.

“I love that a lot,” Natasha praised, studying the simple lines. “But maybe it could be a bit smaller.”

“I can scale it down when I make the stencil, no problem. But is the design alright? Remember, it is permanent so I want you to be completely happy with it.”

Natasha studied it for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined it on her body. Y/n had talent, anyone could see that even from such a simple drawing, and Natasha nodded before she slid the notebook back to her.

“I love it, I really do.”

Y/n nodded, grabbing her stencil paper from a drawer by her leg. She wordlessly began making the stencil and Natasha took this as her cue to return to her seat. She peered around the room, admiring a few pictures that were on the walls. Incredibly complicated tattoos which she guessed Y/n had done.

The young girl sketching away in the corner thoroughly interested her and something inside Natasha was drawn in. She wanted to get to know her because aside from the shy and hesitant exterior she was effortlessly cool and seemed sweet. Maybe Y/n could be the start of Natasha’s project to make friends.

“If you lie back on the seat and lift your shirt, we can make sure this is exactly how you want it before I start.”

Natasha took a deep breath and slowly lifted her shirt and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants so her hip bone was exposed. She shivered despite the room being warm, fully aware that her nastiest scar was on full display on her lower stomach.

But Y/n didn’t care. Or at least she didn’t make it obvious if it bothered her. “Is it ok if I touch your hip?” She asked, looking Natasha straight in the eyes. The redhead almost melted at her words, not used to ever being asked that question.

“Of course, do what you need.” Y/n’s fingers were soft and delicate as she placed the stencil on Natasha’s skin. She didn’t touch anywhere she didn’t need to and worked quickly, making sure it was fully stuck down before stepping back to allow Natasha to step over to the mirror.

Although it wasn’t permanent, Natasha’s heart was racing as she saw the way the black ink stood out against her pale skin. The symbol was small but perfect in her eyes, and she turned back to Y/n with a grin.

“It’s perfect!”

“Then I’ll get started.”

Due to the design being so small, it took no more than fifteen minutes for Y/n to complete. Her hand was incredibly steady and Natasha’s pain tolerance was so high she barely felt it. The room was silent aside from the faint buzzing, no conversation stemming from either woman. Questions spiralled around Natasha’s head but she knew this wasn’t the place to ask them.

Completely lost in her head, Natasha failed to notice the silence or the fact that her hip bone was no longer burning. Y/n kept working, wiping away the excess ink and making sure she hadn’t missed a spot. But it was perfect, as usual, and she gently tapped Nat on the thigh to snap her out of her head.

“You’re now free to look.”

Natasha grinned and hopped off the bed, holding up her shirt again as she looked in the mirror. Tears almost sprung to her eyes as she admired the finished product, and they probably would have tumbled down her cheeks if she had been alone.

A small spider sat on the front of her hip, legs slightly bent. It looked so delicate on her skin and for the first time in her entire life, Natasha actually liked looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s so beautiful,” she began to ramble, unable to tear her eyes away. “You’ve got real talent Y/n, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so perfect.”

Y/n blushed and couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips, catching Natasha’s eyes in the mirror and making the redhead freeze.

Her smile.

The young woman hadn’t smiled the entire time she’d arrived, but seeing her now was like a breath of fresh air. Smiling looked so good on her and Natash couldn’t get enough.

“If you want to show Laura, you can, but you’ll need to come back so I can wrap it safely.” Natasha glanced at her new addition and nodded, but hesitated once she was by the door.

“I think you should come too. The artist and her artwork.” Natasha spoke with a smirk and Y/n couldn’t ever imagine saying no to that woman. So she nodded again, her usual response, and meekly followed her back down the hall, pulling off her gloves as she walked.

Laura was already waiting for them in the kitchen and she placed her reading glasses in her hair to get a good look at Natasha who still hadn’t dropped her shirt down. She’d never seen the Russian with such a wide grin before, her usual collected expression completely out of the window.

“It looks beautiful, Nat, truly. You did such a good job Y/n.”

“You never told me how talented she is!” Natasha stepped to the side to allow Y/n to come forward, but the humble woman stayed where she was, already hating the attention. She didn’t see her art as talent, more like a form of escapism. But it made people happy and that was all she wanted.

“I wanted you to see for yourself,” Laura replied. “And besides, she never believes me when I tell her how good she is.”

“You’re really easy to tattoo. You don’t squirm or cry like other people do, so really I should be thanking you.” Laura was taken aback by Y/n’s comment, not used to more than three words coming out of the girl’s mouth. But the more she observed her, the more she saw her change. The darkness she’d noticed since Y/n was a teenager had lifted a little and she seemed a lot less guarded, looking over at Natasha with a soft expression.

And Natasha looked back at her just the same, purely in awe of how gentle she was. As Y/n gestured for them to return to the office and offered to hold Nat’s shirt, Laura felt like squealing like a child.

Two of her favourite people in the world had found each other and, despite both being so broken and fragile, fit together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other.

Natasha was strong enough and sure of herself enough for the both of them, and Y/n treated her with such delicacy and care that it slowly broke away Natasha’s trust issues and allowed her to open up. And Natasha’s protective nature came out around the other woman, wanting to keep her safe from the world.

With a quick word about going to show Clint, Natasha disappeared into the front yard with her newly wrapped hip, leaving Y/n to find Laura again. The older woman welcomed her with a hug and pulled a chair close to her own.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Y/n kept her gaze on the crossword Laura was doing, not wanting her eyes to give her away if she looked up. “She’s nice.”

“Hey,” Laura said softly, carefully taking Y/n’s hand in her own. She didn’t miss the way she flinched but unfortunately she was used to that by now. “You’re not back there. You’re allowed to like her if that’s what you want and feel. She’s a good person, but so are you, you don’t need to be scared.”

Y/n’s eyes followed where their hands were clasped up to Laura’s face, trying to find any hints that showed she was lying. But all that came back was the soft and caring face she’d grown to love, one that didn’t lie to her and didn’t hate her for who she was.

“I don’t like her like that.” Call her a hypocrite for lying, but Y/n had her reasons. Loving a woman was still unnatural in her eyes, despite her contrasting feelings that longed for it.

“Y/n…” Laura’s ‘mom’ tone was one she was used to and she knew she was caught out. “I’m not asking you to tell me now, but you deserve happiness, as does she. And I haven’t seen either of you that relaxed in a really long time. So please don’t push her away.”

Y/n didn’t know what to think. How could she? Her whole life had centred around hating who she was, so how could anyone ever like her like that? It messed with her head and Laura could see that.

But what was Natasha if not a life saver. She came strolling into the kitchen, her tshirt now tucked up into the band of her sports bra to allow her tattoo to be on full display. Y/n smiled slightly at the sight.

Sinking down into the chair beside her, Natasha noticed the clasped hands of the women and wondered what she’d interrupted. But that wasn’t her place to ask, so she turned to Y/n.

“How can I pay you? How much do you charge?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Laura. “Nothing, honestly. You’re a friend, it’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not. If you won’t take money, at least let me repay you another way.”

“Nat-“

“Dinner? How about you let me take you to dinner next week. You’re from the city, right?” Y/n nodded, her brows creasing. She turned to Laura for help but the older woman just smiled widely and nodded, giving her as much non verbal encouragement as she could. “Please, Y/n?”

She’d said yes before she could even process what was going on. After all, they were just friends going to dinner. People in the movies that she’d seen did it, so she could too.

What was so wrong with that?

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎO Brawling Love, O Loving Hate⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst. so much angst. pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy finds his way back to you author’s note: yeah...yeah. thank you all for 500, I hope you enjoy this!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The days without him were empty boxes tied up with ribbon. In a failed attempt to spin them into light like straw to gold, you told yourself that those long hours evicted from Billy's arms only made the little time you had with him all the sweeter. It did little to raise your spirits.

You tried not to miss him before he was gone. Here, sheets pulled up to your waist, the smell of straw tickling your nose in the chapel of the barn on your father's property, you found heaven on earth. His hair was tangled, and you could see the ghost of your fingers trailing through it, twisting around his curls and reveling in the way the light from the cracked window caught his face just right.

Billy's eyes were closed, his hand trailing absentmindedly up and down your side like a rolling wave. Your head was resting on his other bicep, back molded to his chest. That same arm was held in your grasp against you like a child's bear.

Though you were resting, body blissfully tired from loving all night, you were staring at the wall, lost in thought with no map. In the corner of the loft, his clothes were messily folded, hat perched haphazardly on the arm. One boot was sitting upright, the other on its side, heel touching its mate. It was a third presence in the supposed safety of this space. As long as those boots were here, he could leave.

When you'd first met him in town, you hadn't at all known what you were in for. One minute you had been petting a stranger's horse, giggling as the creature nuzzled into your hand. The next, a handsome man with bright blue eyes was telling you that the animal belonged to him, and that he didn't usually take to people so easily.

A spark became a fire, and before you knew it you were ducking into alleyways to kiss him, sneaking through your bedroom window late at night and finding your way into bars to spend a few hours under his arm as his girl. You were living inside a secret.

Billy shifted, adjusting his arm under your head. Dipping, he nudged his lips against your crown, and you swore you heard him breathe in. He knew. He was just as aware of how delicate this all was, maybe more than you were.

Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, he nuzzled into your neck, hand creeping around the corridors of your body to find yours. Still keeping hold of his arm, your other fingers closed around his, and you tilted your head back.

"You okay?" Billy murmured; voice smoky with sleep. His thumb traveled up the hills of your knuckles, rubbing the valleys between.

You hummed, turning around to face him, hair wrapping around your neck like a scarf. Now his eyes were open, and the deep blue of them nearly drowned you. A slow, sleepy smile crept up his lips like a crescent moon shadow, and you blinked lazily at him. "I'm okay."

He pulled the wispy sheet further up without letting go of your hand, raising it to his lips afterward and settling them between you. "I've gotta go soon."

"Don't," you mumbled, kissing his chest. "Stay here with me."

"'nd what happens when your daddy finds us in here 'n pulls a shotgun on me?"

"Are you the fastest draw in the West or not?"

"Baby," Billy groaned, hands falling to your hips and lifting you up, positioning you atop his own. He lifted under your arms to keep you upright as he sat up. It made no difference- you flopped against him as soon as he was close again, slouching like a low hanging branch.

He chuckled into your hair, and you treasured the sound, sealing it away for later like a lover's Pandora's box. "Can't just go 'round guns blazin' cause you want more cuddles."

You pushed your bottom lip out like a dresser drawer, eyes going round and glassy, a pool of reflection. "Don't tell me you don't want more cuddles."

"I do." His hand petted your hair leisurely, and you lifted your head into the touch like a sun-drunk cat. The other fell to your bottom, nudging at it gently to move you forward on his thighs. "But I've gotta go, sweet girl. You know I've gotta go."

"Hmph." Your lips puckered into a pout, and he laughed, kissing it once. Lifting your chin, you let your eyelashes touch your lids as you stared at him. "When will you come back?"

Billy's face fell, and he thumbed your cheek, not responding. You whimpered, searching his eyes and grasping at him desperately. "Billy."

"I'll be back soon," he promised, and you huffed, getting off him and turning to lie on your stomach. Even though it felt childish, acting this way, after Billy risked life and liberty to see you, you couldn't help it. Billy was your air, and you needed to breathe.

A hand settled on your back, rubbing slightly. Billy would never reprimand you, never deem you ungrateful even if that was exactly what you were. He felt terrible about the circumstance of it all, you knew. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head, and he slid an arm under your tummy, pulling you into his side. "I know. I know, sweet girl. 'm so sorry."

The earnesty in his voice struck you like an arrow to the heart. You turned your head to face him, breathing in softly. "I'm being a brat."

"No, baby, never." Billy let his chin rest on your head, hand crept around the circumference of your body. He kissed your bare shoulder. "I don't wanna leave you either."

You burrowed into his chest, feeling like an animal seeking hibernation's warmth. He let you, and you could almost feel his reluctance, the impending doom of the time to let go. He didn't draw any attention to it, since it was already looming over the two of you like a dark shadow.

"I'll write you lots more," Billy promised, burying his nose in your hair. "And you'll write me too?"

It was his way of checking to see if you were upset with him, you knew. And he sounded so hopeful, like dawn cracking the day's eggshell open to the sunburst within.

You nodded, punctuating it with a quiet, "Yes. Of course."

"There we go." Billy pressed a kiss to your forehead, drawing a smile from you, hidden in his chest. Already you could hear the signs of the world coming to life, reminding you that it was bigger than the space you took up here. Below the loft, his horse snuffled, hooves against straw tapping a reminder.

Billy's lips found your hair again, and then he began to untangle himself from you, gently tucking your arms under the sheet and smoothing it over you. Protests died on your lips when you caught his expression, bittersweet and longing.

When he began to dress himself, you did not stop him, merely lying back on the loft bed and watching him fasten his pants, button his shirt up save for the top three. You'd told him once how handsome he looked with a looser collar, and it had stayed with him.

Sitting on the bed by your knees, he began to tug his boots on, and you wanted to cry at the sight. At least he hadn't put his hat on yet. You let your eyes fall to your hand in front of you, nails smooth and rounded. Billy liked it when you scratched his head after a long day.

He leaned over, forearms bracketing your body, and let his chin nestle on your chest. His eyes grew soft, brow relaxing, an almost-smile probing at the corners of his mouth. You'd flung one arm above your head, the other on your collarbone. Billy took the latter, kissing the curve below your thumb. "I'll come back soon, my love."

"Soon," you repeated softly, searching his eyes. He nodded, reaching up to kiss your forehead, then your nose, all the while holding your hand. Billy always saved a kiss to the lips for last. You'd come to associate it with endings.

His mouth found yours, and you savored it, an invisible hand recording every detail to reminisce on later. The bed creaked as he stood, and you didn't let go of his hand until he was too far to reach.

Closing your eyes, you refused to watch him leave. It was better sometimes to convince yourself that it was all a dream.

Five years is an eternity when you loved her. Longer when you still do.

Through the dusty, endless stretches of the desert, most nights spent lonely, Billy tried and failed to find solace in time. It was his enemy, yet an attempted comfort. He wasn’t watching an hourglass, he was inside one, drowning in every second, every grain of sand that settled atop him, spilling from the brim of his hat.

He wandered near and far, finding nearly forgotten cities to pass through that were nearly identical to each other. Maybe someday he would wither away into the palm of the earth, his body decaying into nothingness, and then the pain would end.

You had imprinted yourself on him, left a gaping hole like a bullet wound he couldn't seem to stitch up. The memories circled him like a pack of wolves, baring their pearly teeth and threatening to pounce. He managed to keep them at bay.

There was a part of him that couldn't seem to take any final step. One that gently pushed the hands of hired women off his shoulders at the places he stayed, one that seeped into every crack and corner of his being. You haunted him- it was as plain as that.

It was that last recollection, the most recent, that came to him in dreams, touched his shoulders and whispered how badly he'd messed up. The image of you, eyes shut, stained with dried tear tracks.

Your details were recalled individually, and in desperate hours, he tried to put them back together. But they wouldn't form a whole. Your bright eyes, your soft skin. The ribbons you always wore in your hair. The way you held him, kissed him. Billy was nearly sure he'd dreamt you to life. Had he gone dry in the sandy expanse of the desert, hallucinated something beyond even the wildest dreams of men?

He didn't know what he was doing back here. It was a shot in the dark, something wildly out of place and reckless beyond his instincts. Even though he'd left for you, he couldn't help searching. Every woman your height with your hair that passed had him turning his head. It was stupidly hopeless, and Billy hated how lost he was in any possibility. After what had happened, he didn't even deserve to look at you.

The town square was bustling, crammed with people about all businesses. Billy concluded his dealings fairly quickly, packing his finds into the saddlebags slung over his horse's back. He shifted the strap of it, tightening the belt, eyes focused and thoughts far away. It'd be at least two days ride to the next town, no matter which direction he decided to go.

Everywhere he looked was crawling with memories, infested almost. Billy suppressed a shiver, mind wandering to places he didn't want it to. Your ghost was hot on his heels, nipping at him like the cold. Billy didn't want to dwell on it- it would only lead to a night of longing for what was lost.

Truthfully, he should be grateful he even had you to begin with. The softest, sweetest girl he'd ever met, and you'd been all his for more than a year. Maybe it was enough to stretch across a lifetime without you.

He turned, wiping his brow with the back of his head and looking into the crowd. From where he was standing, there was a modicum of privacy, near an alleyway. Nobody was sparing him a second glance, and for that he was grateful.

It was too late in the day to start riding for the next spot. He'd take the night here and then start up early in the morning. An outlaw's life kept him moving, though admittedly, maybe he didn't need to as much as he had five years ago.

But he had a habit. The pattern was set, and Billy supposed he would keep running from place to place with accompanying memories dogging him for the rest of his life. The thought probed him whenever he tried to fall asleep, and he evaded it for as long as he could. It was a miserable thing to think about, especially when he knew now what it was to be happy.

He heaved a breath, turning his head to the side, eyes roving from person to person. Then something like a flower in a wasteland made him freeze, caught like a fish on a hook.

You. Lovely as ever, petting the neck of your chocolate horse, sweeping a strand of hair over your shoulder. He'd know you anywhere, out of a crowd of millions. Billy was shell-shocked, feeling the same way he did the last time he'd laid eyes on you, just as stunned as the first.

Time looked good on you. It had taken your beauty and spun it into something he would call angelic. Your demeanor still shone like a star, an emanating thing that glowed. Billy couldn't tear his eyes away. His chest ached at the fact that he'd missed whatever changes had occurred all these years, that he hadn't been there for every second. You were the woman he'd wanted to grow old with, and now it was devastatingly clear that nothing had paused when he'd left.

You looked up, likely feeling his eyes on him, and went rigid. Eyes widening, lips parting, you looked as though you'd seen someone killed. Billy couldn't find it in himself to move, to do anything. It felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He wanted to run over, lift you into his arms and kiss you silly, show you how sorry he was for everything. For leaving you, for doing the one thing he promised he wouldn't. For the night he'd told you he was hitting the road. He wanted to turn back the hands of the clock and fix it, revise his regrets.

You were moving toward him before he could do any of that, and he was stunned still. Was this how it would feel to see you walk down the wedding aisle to him? Billy's heart was beating double-time, as if to make up for the time spent away from its mate.

When you were three feet away, you came to a stop, just looking at him. Now that you were close, he could piece you together again. You were an ethereal being, a desert angel. He thought he might be dreaming until you spoke up, voice soft. "Billy."

"Darlin'." The word slipped out before he could regulate it, and something seemed to change in your eyes.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say, and they all fizzled out before he could even try. You beat him to it. "You're back in town."

"Yeah." Billy was cursing himself internally as he said it. Five years separated from the love of his life and that was all he could think to say?

The air was thick with both heat and tension, and he was choking on it. Billy's eyes fell to your left hand, heart panging hopelessly when he noticed the gold band encircling it.

You followed his gaze, an almost guilty expression taking over. "I...my father arranged it. He got a good deal on a nice plot of land down south."

Billy was silent, glued to the sight of it. He didn't know how he could have been so stupid. Every grand vision he'd had since deciding to ride over here dissipated, leaving nothing but dust. Of course you'd been married. Of course a girl as beautiful and effervescent as you had been snatched up like a fresh flower in the spring, whether it was by your choice or not.

He could see it all whenever he looked at you. The future he'd wished for when you both were young lovers, blissful and innocent. The house he wanted to build for you, the children born from you whom he'd tried to imagine. Growing old, seeing strands of white and silver that would only serve your beauty. Billy once had it all in the palm of his hand, and he'd been forced to let it go.

But he'd done it for you. Everything since he'd met you had been.

Opening his mouth to congratulate you, to wish you the best, he suddenly noticed the chain falling over your collarbone, the pendant dipping into the bodice of your dress.

Countless nights invaded his memory, hours shrouded under darkness tracing every inch of you. That very same chain brushing his cheek, heart-shaped charm falling to his neck as you bent over and kissed him.

Billy was reaching out before he could ask permission, lifting the pendant from your neckline like a fisherman pulling up his catch. His eyes widened.

There it was. The heart, the one he knew without checking had his initials on the other side, so pretty they didn't look like they belonged to such a roughened man as he. But that wasn't what drew his lips apart, made him look back at you.

It was the golden circlet with tiny curlicued flowers engraved into the surface, clinking alongside the silver heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, breath hitching when he asked softly, "You kept it?"

"Of course I kept it," you whispered, searching his eyes.

Now his heart was beating for an entirely different reason. He could feel his soul gravitating towards yours like a moth to a flame. The logical side of his head was shaking him, poking him in the eyes. She's married. She's married, stop it.

You had kept the ring. The one he never could have given another woman, the one he'd left in the spot where he usually lay the last time he met you for a late-night rendezvous in your father's abandoned barn.

Billy knew you. He knew your nature, your being, your soul. This wasn't nothing.

"Baby..." he breathed, letting the necklace fall against your breast.

Something beyond what he knew, a baser instinct, was pulling him in, like gravity had taken on a new form. You were his sunshine, and he was orbiting around you, getting closer as you burned brighter. Billy could see it in your eyes as you moved forward, delicate hands finding his chest.

Five years could have been five days. And he would have missed you this much.

You didn't tuck the necklace back into your dress, instead standing on your tiptoes and letting your lips brush his, ever so slightly.

He was pressing you to the door, hand at the base of your neck as you tilted your head back, hair cushioning your head against the wood. You whimpered as his hands fell to your waist, gripping you tight and pulling you in so you were pressed right against him. His thumbs rubbed your hip bones, the intimacy of it along with his lips hungrily dashing down your neck making your tummy jump.

Billy slid one leg between your thighs, moving it up to your most sensitive spot, and a tiny moan slithered from your lips. You gasped, hands flying to his shirt, gripping both sides of it. Instantly your fingers began to tug at his buttons, eager to feel him, the warmth of his skin. It had been so long...too long.

When he'd left, you'd never expected to see him again. With each year you became more hopeless, resigning that the one love you'd ever had was lost forever. You had mourned it, refused to let go of any piece of him. Even once the ring of another man was slid onto your finger, all you thought of was Billy.

And now here he was, body pinning you to the door of your husband's house.

Your spouse was out of town, on a trip that would take weeks there and back, the purpose of which you hadn't bothered to ask about. It would have been forgotten anyways, as Billy practically devoured you. All that mattered was that he wasn't here. And that Billy was.

Lifting his knee into you at just the right angle, Billy breathed in when you moaned. "That's it...right there, baby? Right there."

His lips found yours again, and you practically melted under his hands. In a swoop, you were in his arms, being carried somewhere you couldn't place. A mattress found your back, and you recognized your bedroom. How he had found it was a mystery, but it was irrelevant.

"All this time..." he murmured into your mouth. "You ain't been kissed the way you should be. Woman like you..." Billy pecked your lips once, tearing his suspenders away and carefully unhooking the buttons of your dress, exposing your chemise. "Needa be kissed good."

He repeated your name like a mantra, taking you places you'd missed, his skin blooming into yours. You breathed in, your body moving of its own accordance against his. One large hand found your jaw, thumb digging into your cheek as his lips moved rhythmically against yours.

It reminded you of the ocean. The way you crashed and flowed together, two parts becoming a whole. He fit in all the same spots he used to, his touch electric just like it was the very first time. Your Billy. Your senses clouded until he was the only thing left, holding you tenderly and kissing you where you wanted to be.

Afterglow was golden hour, wildflowers and sugar cubes on your tongue. But it was also this, lying here in the arms of the man you'd loved in darkness for as long as you'd known him. His chest was bare, his head tilted back in a show of pure bliss. You were tucked under his arm, one palm flat on your back, his other hand at your waist. The way he held you, you got the distinct impression that he was worried you'd disappear.

Lifting your head, your smile lighting like sunshine. Even after this, after he'd taken your clothes off and kissed you senseless, done something with you that only ever meant anything with him, you were still unsure if this was a dream or not. Had you passed out from the heat in town, now a crumpled figure beside your horse?

Billy reached up with the hand that had been on your back, two fingers stretching out to gather your hair and tuck it behind your ear like curtains from a window. He watched you for a moment the same way you watched flowers begin to bloom in the springtime.

"When does your husband come back?" he whispered, trying to tiptoe around the delicate bubble you were both encased in.

You exhaled through your nose, using your forearms on his chest to prop yourself up. He grunted lightly, but didn't move you. The necklace you'd kept on fell atop his collarbone, a bit of the chain pooling around the heart and ring. Staring at it, you murmured, "Three weeks. Maybe four."

This was the part you were used to. The part you had been dreading without realizing it. The part where he left. Now the bubble had popped.

Sitting up, you pulled your knees to your chest, letting his arm around you fall like a leaf in autumn down to the mess of sheets. Billy joined you, lips pressing to your shoulder. His hand settled against your waist, and you wished you could fasten it there permanently.

Your eyelashes touched your cheek. "How long are you in town?"

He paused, fingers stroking up and down. "Three weeks. Maybe four."

Silence.

The world stood still, the clock's hands pausing their torturous ticking. You turned to face him, saw the look in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know.

The clouds were pink outside your window, giving him a halo you would have crafted and crammed over his shape years ago if it would have made him stay. Your hand found his, fingers twisting around each other like vines over a garden wall.

He kissed your temple. You squeezed his palm so he'd linger.

Dusk. A house empty save for the two of you. His boots discarded a few feet away, and you delightfully bare and lazily stretched over the blanket he'd laid on the floor in front of the roaring fire. You were drawing hearts on his stomach, and he wished your finger were a pen, the ink permanent.

Time had sailed by, cruel in passing as it always was. He tried to rein it in, tried to slow everything down for himself, for you.

The hours were sun-drunk, blissful blinks of an eye that were filled with love, pure light and happiness that he wanted to bottle. You passed the days in his arms mostly, always touching him in some way. The two of you took long walks in the nearby woods, went on rides where he insisted on taking only one horse so he could still hold you.

It was a doomed narrative. He could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every lingering semblance of love. But he didn't dare comment on it, not wanting to break the spell. For now, he had his girl in his arms and that was all that mattered.

You slid your hand up his chest, rubbing him lightly over his heart. Sometime within the first week, you'd removed his ring from the chain around your neck and put it on your left hand, abandoning the other in a dresser drawer. It filled him with a sense of pride seeing it there. And in glimpses he was able to pretend you were his. His wife.

When you spun around in the sunset, your silhouette usurping into the half shadow of the moon beginning to make an appearance, you were his wife. You were his wife when you kissed the space between his thumb and index finger because you liked the way it felt. In the bath you were his wife with strands of hair sticking to your chest and shoulders as he held you, your wet skin sliding against his, porcelain cool against his back.

He kissed you in shadows still, the curtains of the window hiding your secret from the world. He kissed you under starlight, your eyes glimmering brighter than anything he could see in the sky. There were a million things to explore that the sands of time had given you, things that he felt under his hands, along the curve of your waist and the weight of your breasts. You were a treasure, through and through.

The hours became thin like spun glass, the crystallite workings of a snowflake melting rapidly under his warm touch. He would freeze his hands to extend the time. There had never been a time in his life he felt so freely happy. It was always reaching through the bars with you, able to grasp each other for a second before being forced apart.

The workings of this house were intricate, richer than most places Billy had graced. The carpet beneath your head was plush, ornate detailing in the pattern. He lifted his eyes from your face, staring at the oak chest of drawers in his line of vision. Silvery trinkets that looked as though they were from far off places were littered across the surface, a single framed photograph in their midst.

He'd studied it further in the moments when you were upstairs putting your boots on, or just in the kitchen, putting a pot on the stove while he built a fire. The shadowy picture depicted you in a white dress, a bundle of flowers clasped in your hands. The man beside you was solemn, his eyes cold even through the bounds of a moment trapped in a frame.

Trying to ignore the pangs of something he didn't want to confront, Billy had been tempted to turn it face down. It was like a monument to his failure.

As he looked down at you now, it was clear that you had the best of everything, except for love. Your husband had left you starved for affection, and Billy tried to pay the other man's debts with interest. But Billy's own love was imperfect, the consequences of his actions clear.

He'd reminded you that you loved him. And it was going to ruin your life. Rubbing his hand over your back, he murmured, "I'll have to leave soon. Before he comes back."

Lifting your head, you pressed a soft kiss over his heart, meeting his eyes. He felt as though he was looking at a doe, beautifully belonging in the bed of this moment. But the ecstasy of a few minutes ago was replaced with a weight he wanted to carry across his shoulders without ever knowing what it was, a cross of unbearable magnitude.

You searched his eyes, brow knitting in a way he wanted to unravel. When you spoke, your voice was soft as the coo of a mourning dove. "I want to come with you."

"No." His response was immediate, and he was upset at himself even quicker. Your face fell like an avalanche, and he felt a stab of guilt in his heart, a knife he never wanted to yield. The warmth of you sprawled across his chest was removed when you sat up, and a cloud settled over the room.

You pulled your legs to your chest, eyes falling to the edge of the blanket underneath you. Hair tumbling over your shoulders, you breathed in. Billy could practically hear the tears pricking your eyes.

He reached a hand out to cover yours on your knee, rubbing your knuckle with his thumb. "Baby...I-"

"So that's it?" Your tone was bruised. "You're just going to leave again?"

Billy's shoulders slumped, and he reached out for you. "Sweetheart, c'mere.-"

You turned to face him, and every thought was swept away from his mind. Even on the verge of tears you were beautiful, a vision he couldn't have possibly invented. Looking up into his eyes, your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. "Why can't I come with you?"

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. A love as beautiful as yours was supposed to be for all time, not hidden away like a dusty relic. It was not supposed to be forbidden. Billy sighed through his nose, holding your eyes with his bright blue stare. "Baby...I can't put you through that kinda life. You don't deserve to get hurt."

"You're hurting me now," you breathed, smoothing your hair back with your hands and taking in deep breaths, trying to calm down. "I...I..."

He could practically see your heart pounding through your chest, your breathing cutting itself short. "Honey-"

"No!" You stood abruptly, reaching for the nearest article of clothing, which happened to be his shirt. Throwing it over your body, you began to pace like a caged animal. All he could do was watch as one of your hands covered your mouth. You were gathering words like berries in a basket. "All these years...I've been waiting for you without realizing it...and you won't even let me come with... I want to!"

"I know." Billy sat all the way up, reaching for his underwear. "I know you do."

"Then why-?"

"What if I died out there?" he burst out, standing up and taking you by the arms. "What if I died and you were dependin' on me...what if we were married? I couldn't stand to leave you a widow."

"I'd be just as devastated if you died tomorrow as if you died as my husband." Your eyes were firm, unmoving in their emotion.

"And I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt because of the stupid things I get myself into." His voice was harsher than he meant as he gripped your arms. When your eyes widened, he tried a quieter tone. "You'll stay here, and you'll stay safe."

"What if I was pregnant?" you asked desperately, and he could see the tears springing to your eyes like rain in the spring. "After all we've done-"

"Then you both would be safe." The words nearly physically hurt coming out of his mouth. It was quiet for a moment, and he had time to regret what he'd just said. That moment never came. You were his north star, and yet he'd never felt more lost.

Taking in shallow breaths, you reached for him, taking his face in your hands and leaning in, pressing your lips to his. Then again. And again. "Please." Kiss. "Don't...do this..." Kiss. "I love you, isn't that enough?"

His eyes stayed open, the gravity in yours weighing him down more by the minute. You grasped his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.. "We love each other, that's enough." You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself too.

The silence cut deep. Billy searched for something to say but everything went still before he could form the words. He wanted to reassure you, to take you in his arms and kiss you tenderly and tell you that you were right.

But you both knew it. Love isn’t always enough.

You straightened between his hands, lifting your chin and searching his eyes, trying to decode something he hadn't been aware was locked. That had always been your forte- unearthing the secrets within him when he thought he'd given you every part of him. Once again, he was lost in the boundless space of your beauty, transfixed by every movement. Removing one of his hands from your arm, you held it between you, eyes never leaving his.

"I'd rather be unsafe and happy."

As Billy stared at you, saw how determined you were, how steadfast and boundless the love you possessed was, he was almost convinced. The moment of fear and doubt was held at bay, taunting him from afar, but he thought maybe it would never reach him. What you and him had was beyond special, it was legendary. It was a folklore the best of writers couldn't fathom to pen, something the stars weren't bold enough to know. A future bloomed before his eyes, one where you could finally be together, the restraints cut and abandoned. It was golden, it was limitless.

But then the moment pushed its way to shore. And the fleeting hope slipped through his fingers.

Underneath your legs the grass was dry, prickly to the touch. The point of your toe brushed his ankle over his boot, both feet leaning toward each other. Billy's arms were bent at the elbow, sheathing you against his chest. When you whispered your eyes were closed, one cheek pressed into him, but you could imagine the look on his face. It was one you never wanted to see.

"Will you leave before I wake up?"

His fingers began to rove up and down your back and his nose shifted in your hair, the soft press of his lips chinking another crack into your heart. Just another thing to miss.

Yesterday Billy told you he would leave the day after today. Yesterday you fought and cried and begged and clung to his shirt, your tear-soaked face turned to him like a sunflower to the nearest star. Yesterday he let you yell at him until your voice went raspy, gathering you into his arms when you finally reached for him. Today he was still holding on, as if he were repenting for some future sin.

Opening your eyes and peeking up at him, you murmured, "Please?"

Billy's eyes were tender, and he stroked your hair, chin bobbing. You didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking right now. The last time he'd left, he'd done it the exact same way. But last time it wasn't your choice.

He moved you, sitting up straighter against the tree, shirt only catching a little on the bark. Accommodating him, you were sideways across his lap now, legs bent so your feet were tucked under his knees. Holding you right against him with a hand on your shoulder, Billy began to rock back and forth. It was so soft when he said it that you almost thought it was a voice inside your head. "Of course."

You buried your face in his neck, mouth brushing his shirt collar. Maybe his scent would imprint on you, seep into your sleeping hours for the rest of time. It was as though you were grasping at someone turning into a ghost before your eyes. He was fading before your eyes, and you clung to the mirage as long as you could. He was yours. In this moment he was only yours. Holding him was like trying to hold air.

There were novels you could have written full of everything you wanted to tell him. But silence held your tongue, and you regretted it more with every minute. This was the end, a plunge into darkness and you could hardly speak to him, every attempted word stillborn. The walk back home was quiet as death, but you squeezed his hand the whole way.

The sun was peeking over the hills with rosy fingers when he got out of bed the next morning. He tried to be quiet. It wasn't his fault you woke, body wary of his presence, missing him before you did.

You stayed still as he dressed, the soft sounds of his footsteps piercing the early quiet. Still bare from last night, you laid with the sheet draped over your back, pretending he was still touching you the way he had mere hours ago, kissing you fervently.

When he leaned down, breath warm on your cheek for a final kiss, you gave up your act, springing up and flinging your arms around his neck. Breasts pressing into the material of his shirt, you held fast, sure he wouldn't leave if you never let go.

Billy let out a surprised breath, hands smoothing over your back. "Baby...s'posed to be asleep..."

"Don't go," you sniffled, stifling a tiny cry. More tears. And you'd thought you cried yourself dry.

"Shh," Billy soothed, rubbing your back. "You gotta go back to sleep my love. Go back to sleep."

Shaking your head vigorously and hiding in his neck, you whimpered, "No."

"'m not leavin' until you fall asleep again," he whispered into your hair.

"Then I'll never fall asleep again."

His hand found your head. "Scoot over. C'mon. Atta girl." Getting in beside you, Billy laid his head on your pillow, pulling you taut into his chest. Dragging the cast-aside blanket over your shoulders, he tucked your head under his chin and smoothed your spine with his fingers.

You knew what he was doing. This was his swan song, his final act of love. And as much as you fought it, your eyes were growing heavy, his motions pushing you right back into unconsciousness. He breathed, "I love you. Always will."

"I love you." It wasn't the way you wanted to tell him. Your words were pushed together as if you'd had too many drinks. But he smiled into your hair, let his lips linger there for a long time. It was the last thing you were aware of before slipping under, your dreams full of dread.

Every corner of your mind was darkened, abstract shapes rising from the darkness to scare you out of a place you couldn't escape. Every color stabbed at you, made a swipe for your sanity. Eyes flying open in a motion of panic, you heard a door shut downstairs.

Sitting up rapidly, you found the bed cold, empty. But someone was here. He hadn't left, that had only been a dream. Billy was downstairs right now, about to climb the stairs and come to you again. You leapt out of bed, finding your chemise on the ground and yanking it over your head. Determined not to wait a single second longer for him, you nearly tripped opening the door and flying down the stairs, eyes bright as you prepared to greet-

Your husband.

His brow furrowed as he set his travel bag down, looking you up and down. Your smile dropped like a fallen pin, eyes widening. Unconsciously you hid your left hand behind your back. No no no. Panic slithered into your chest and made a home, your body realizing it before you did. Tears spilled from your eyes, dripping down your cheeks before you could regulate them, and your knees met the floor.

To his credit, he came to you, arms finding their way around your body and reeling you in. There was dust from the desert powdering his clothes and staining both your skin and chemise. His hands were stiff against your back.

Billy lazily dragged a hand up your side, his eyes full of starlight. "My girl."

A choked sob escaped your lips as Billy's outline cracked, what was once reality losing its color until it was as stiff and unfeeling as the wedding picture on the front table.

[nightdiary]

txt as moments of intimacy

word count: 2.7k genre: fluff, established relationship, comfort author's note: this is my first published work, so i'm a bit nervous to share it with the world! i'm quite happy with it though, and hope that it can bring anyone who reads it a sense of comfort and warmth. 🤍

✧ yeonjun - washing your hair

when you come home after a particularly draining day, yeonjun's almost too quick to pick up on your weariness even if you're smiling. he instantly notices the tenseness of your shoulders and your bleary eyes when you shuffle up to greet him with a hug, one that's too rigid and awfully telling.

his heart squeezes when he watches you trudge to the kitchen and slump by the counter, dropping your keys and wallet onto it with a sigh. yeonjun likes to think he’s an expert at comforting you, especially after having been together for so long, but on days like this, uncertainness creeps up on him relentlessly.

drawing up beside you, he reaches out to trace a gentle hand on your upper back, eyes softening as you practically melt into his touch. he thinks he hears you mumble an apology, and something in him falters.

"how about i run you a bath?"

and before you can fully process his question, let alone finish saying yes, he's jumping out of his seat and speedwalking to the bathroom.

the bathroom smells like sweet lavender and cream honey when you walk in, and you find yeonjun crouched by the faucet, struggling to make bubbles with the liquid soap. he doesn't realize you're there until you giggle, startling him into nearly falling face-first into the growing heap of pink bubbles.

after you strip out of your day clothes, you shyly shuffle into the tub under yeonjun's watchful stare. you dare to look up only once you're submerged up to your shoulders and find that his eyes are filled with nothing but adoration. if anything, that just makes you feel even shyer.

yeonjun takes care in gently detangling your strands and making sure that he doesn't accidentally tug at your roots. his ministrations are slow, massaging your scalp and letting the blunt end of his nails drag along just the right places. you can almost fall asleep like that, lulled into a hazy doze by his soft humming and the comforting warmth cradling your head.

he takes his time in properly washing the product out of your hair and ensuring that none of the suds fall into your eyes, cupping the area just above your eyebrows with heed. once your hair seems to be all done, his hands slip to your shoulders and begin to knead in slow circles, coaxing soft sighs out of you the closer they draw to your neck.

after you're out of the tub and wrapped up in a clean, fluffy towel, yeonjun will seat you on the toilet lid and blow dry your hair. it's a bit awkward, especially since he hasn't really done this for anyone but himself, but the fondness with which he carefully cards through your damp strands is enough to make you forget all about your day.

✧ soobin - baking together

ever since soobin initially suggested you two bake brownies a month into your relationship, baking quickly became your favorite couple’s activity.

you were never really an expert, quite the contrary, but soobin reassured you that baking required less skill and more love. naturally, you called bullshit on his encouragements. if you couldn’t properly handle a mixer, much less bake cookies without burning them, you were sure it was a sign from the universe to stay away from baking.

and yet, several baking dates later, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the silly desserts you and soobin would curate. you even had a shared pinterest board on which you added any eye-catching recipes you scrolled past, and had gone through a sizable amount yourselves. from chocolate hedgehogs to studio ghibli-inspired creampuffs and outrageously sweet brownie-oreo hybrids, you’d pretty much explored all ends of the dessert category with soobin.

“this looks like a lumpy boob, not a cookie,” you whine loudly and step back from the counter angrily.

you and soobin are currently in his apartment’s kitchen, whipping up cookies for his family to enjoy tomorrow. after you found out they’d be in town, you slipped the suggestion to your boyfriend, who delightedly offered you two take on a family recipe. in retrospect, everything was going to be fine.

until you actually got your hands on the damn dough.

“babe, you have to form it with your palm, not your finger,” soobin giggles. he abandons his own tray to sidle up behind you, grabbing your wrists gently and imitating the technique he’d been using.

“i’ve tried,” you huff. glancing down at your hands, you watch in awe as your boyfriend manages to fix up the shape of the cookies, forming them into perfect hearts and stamping space in their middles for jam.

between the two of you, soobin was by far miles more experienced and adept at baking. you often found yourself frustrated with certain steps of recipes, unfamiliar with more practical methods and tricks that the directions called for. as such, you’d end up partially screwing up, and–

–and each time, soobin would drop what he was doing and come help you. he’d gently guide you and talk you patiently through what he was doing, ensuring that you understood the logic behind the approaches. he never once responded to your panic with annoyance or carelessness, despite the numerous times it’d happened.

without fail, soobin would always knead your worries away.

“there! do you want to go try with the rest of my dough?” you look over your shoulder and blink soobin’s face back into focus. he’s looking down at you with a soft smile, raising his brows when you take a minute to respond.

“yeah, i’d like that soob,” you say. before he can walk away, you spin around and cup his face with your flour-coated palms, giggling at his surprised squawk. pecking him squarely on the lips, you revel in his dazed expression before skipping away smugly.

✧ beomgyu - teaching you how to play his favorite game

despite how cool your boyfriend is, he's also a huge dork.

the kind of dork to geek out over computer games and text you with long strings of excited emojis whenever he progresses to the next level. the kind to facetime you during rounds and send you screenshots with updates, even if you have no idea of what you're supposed to be looking at.

it's really cute, you absolutely couldn't deny that, and it makes you feel ten times more enamored with him, but he is still undeniably a dork.

he's playing something on his computer when you arrive at his apartment for your date. it’s saturday, meaning it’s movie and takeout night for you and beomgyu, so you’ve come prepared (read: a slightly damp plastic bag with several containers of noodles, rice, and various types of meat). you call his name as you slip your shoes off, frowning when all you hear in response is the keyboard clicking from down the hallway.

peeking into his room, you shyly knock on the wall to get his attention. beomgyu almost falls off of his chair in surprise, but he launches up almost immediately to engulf you in an embrace. he asks if you’re okay waiting a couple of minutes for his round to finish, at which you readily nod and proceed to plop yourself down on his bed.

watching beomgyu play through his round is surprisingly entertaining, particularly because you’re not really sure what’s going on in his game. your gaze drifts off to his concentrated expression, tracing his soft features and dropping to his bitten lip with interest. something in your chest flutters, but you quickly push it aside when you see beomgyu lean back in his chair and a leaderboard pop up on his screen.

the game’s over, and yet you can’t help but be curious.

"can i try?"

you think he might laugh it off, might just shake his head and call you cute, but beomgyu's chair swivels around to face you and he looks anything but humored. instead, his wide eyes meet yours and you almost startle at how eager he looks. he nods bashfully, and as you draw nearer, you notice the growing red tint along the tips of his ears.

you're instructed to sit between his legs and rest your arms on his desk cover, hands hovering over the mouse and LED keyboard nervously. they're quickly covered by beomgyu's own, and he situates them on top of the necessary keys as he walks you through the basics of moving around and using items in the game.

it's honestly a bit confusing at first, but you think you get the hang of it when you manage to get through the first level. it's also very difficult to concentrate when you have beomgyu's chest pressed up against your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, so it's a miracle you don't end up sending his character into one of the lava pits from the get-go.

after a few minutes of familiarizing yourself with the basics, you begin to feel a bit braver, so you decide to join the queue of a team round. it isn't exactly the best decision, given the exasperated remarks from your teammates in the chat, but beomgyu cheers you on regardless and claps keenly when you score.

unsurprisingly, you place somewhere right above last place. but beomgyu is sure to give you a congratulatory kiss (or two) when you turn around to grin at him sheepishly.

✧ taehyun - sharing clothes

drip, drip, drip.

the rain outside of your window had measurably subdued, but you were still suffering the consequences of being outside at the wrong time. wrapping the towel tighter around your shoulders, you frown up at the murky sky and slide the curtains closed again.

“you’re going to catch a cold like that,” your boyfriend’s voice rises from behind you, and you look back to find him toweling his damp hair. you also find that he’s not quite clothed, just like you, and resist the urge to scoff despite your reddening ears.

the situation you found yourself in was frustratingly preventable. if either you or taehyun had taken a look at the forecast for the day before meeting for your date, you wouldn’t be shivering or about to catch a cold. you were caught outside when the storm came on, and taehyun’s place was the closest shelter you could take, so you braved through the few minutes of running in the rain to get back.

your heart catches in your throat when he steps closer, and you pointedly look away from his defined torso. he’s smirking, you can tell from your periphery, but you won’t let him win this time.

“and it’ll be all your fault,” you huff. “where’s that sweatshirt you promised me?”

taehyun laughs, and you instantly feel yourself relax despite the way your body's shaking. he gestures for you to follow him, and you watch as he digs around in one of his drawers for the promised snoopy sweatshirt. it’s the one he was wearing when you two first met, and undoubtedly your favorite from his entire wardrobe.

as you’re slipping it on and reveling in the comforting smell of his laundry detergent, you catch a glimpse of a criminally-familiar shade of pink out of the corner of your eye. tugging the sweatshirt down properly, you thank taehyun and watch him pace over to the side of his bed to grab some moisturizer.

while he’s busy rubbing on lotion, you curiously open the drawer again, and– there it is. your beloved hoodie. in all of its stolen glory.

“hey,” you say, furrowing your brows. “isn’t this that hoodie i texted you about? the one i wanted to wear out with my friend? you said you didn’t know where it went!”

picking it up, you hold it out in front of you and frown.

any sound from taehyun’s direction halts and you look over to see him grinning shamelessly. “oops?”

“i’m going to start keeping a lock on my closet,” you grumble. ignoring the flutter in your chest, you haphazardly fold the hoodie back up and toss it onto the bed.

taehyun says nothing, but you hear him approach you and hold your breath, trying to will your racing heart to calm down. except that he doesn’t kiss you on the shoulder like he usually does when he senses you’re upset. instead, you hear more shuffling, and can’t help but sneak a glance over to see what he’s up to.

you’re met with an image that makes your chest feel stuffed to the brim with butterflies. taehyun’s wearing your hoodie, his hair adorably ruffled, and he’s looking up at you with wide, smiley eyes that melt away any last of your resolves. you can’t even pretend to be mad at him anymore.

“you can keep it i guess,” you know your exasperated sigh sounds fake to both of you, but taehyun laughs and kisses you on the cheek for good measure.

his fingers dance along the sleeve of the snoopy sweatshirt you’re wearing, humming absentmindedly as he brushes off any rogue pieces of lint. “yeah? i suppose this is a fair trade then.”

✧ kai - tracing his moles

kai’s bed is cramped. warm, comfortable, but also cramped.

you’ve woken up from your nap because of something poking you in your upper back. you don’t need to turn around to know that it’s one of your boyfriend’s plushies, likely the new pokemon you’d gifted him for his birthday. you were plenty excited when you’d found it in store, absolutely delighted because you knew he’d be overjoyed with it, but you were slowly beginning to strongly dislike it.

reaching back with a wince, you attempt to dislodge the stupid glaceon, prodding and pushing around blindly, but your bicep begins to burn uncomfortably after a few moments.

a soft huff from your front draws your attention away from the pressure against your spine. kai’s face is nestled comfortably against your chest, and it seems like he’s trying to wriggle around and make himself space further up, closer to your collarbones. immediately, any prior negative thoughts vanish, and your heart practically melts.

your boyfriend’s sleepy noises are enough for you to abandon any efforts to move the plushie, so you settle with running your fingers through his hair. it’s blond for now, and surprisingly soft given the intense bleaching process it’d undergone. he stirs in response, but the happy hum he lets out reassures you to continue with your movements.

blinking blearily, you squint over at the blinds covering the windows, where the sky outside has turned a mellow, sunset-y orange. you’d slept through the afternoon it seems, but you have no intention of getting up anytime soon. looking down at the boy in your arms, you surmise kai might feel the same.

his eyes flutter open like he can read your thoughts, and his lips pull into an adorable pout. smiling back, you let your hand gently fall to cup the side of his head, thumbing at the speckled spots you find.

“weirdo, why are you staring at me while i sleep?”

“your moles are really cute,” you say, ignoring him. tracing the tip of your finger up from his cheek, you tap his temple gently. “they sort of remind me of a constellation. like the big dipper.”

you feel rather than hear the flustered whine that kai makes, right against your sternum. he curls up against your front, and you almost forget about the fact that he’s big enough to have his feet hang off of the end of his bed. his arms and legs wind tighter around you, almost as a form of punishment, and you gasp when you feel his hand flitter up your side threateningly.

thankfully, no further moves to tickle you are made, and you relax again in his hold. he’s warm, pleasantly so, and you can feel your eyelids beginning to droop.

you’re almost asleep when the pressure along your back disappears. you hear shuffling, and then something that feels an awful lot like kai’s arm brushes your side. incoherently, you mumble a soft thank you, and you’re certain he’s understood you when he kisses your forehead and tucks you into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

[ps-cactus]

HO 🎄HO ☃️ HO 🎁 it's your Secret Santa in town🎅🤶🔔🎶 coming down your chimney with questions about your MC ⬇️⬇️⬇️

I'm so excited to learn more about Alyn! I just got started on one of your fics but I'm dying to know what the dynamics are between Alyn and Ominis?? What do they do when they spend time together? Who's the more affectionate one? Do they argue a lot? Who apologizes first? I would love to know if you don't mind sharing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hellooo! Thank you for reading 🥹💖 and for the questions, Santa! 💖✨ HERE COMES THE BIG POST! ~800 words👇🏻

To not make it extremely big I marked with * places where there are some extra headcanons behind the statement and I can elaborate additionally if needed.

Amberlyn x Ominis

⋆˚⋆⌜ Dynamics ⌟⋆˚⋆

The only one who'd understand. Recognition of each other's complexities. Mutual respect. Quiet support. Nevertheless, push and pull of varying intensity. Something from their Pinterest board:

Their bond unfolds slowly, built on trust (since Scriptorium, Alyn always sided with Ominis*) and, much later, subtle expressions of affection. They find common ground in shared struggles (family issues among them*) and the guilt and grief lingering after the events of the fifth year.

Alyn has a knack for finding the right words to soften Ominis' sharp edges and gently coax him into vulnerability. Though both are reserved in their own ways, they provide each other a sense of safety and understanding. (exceptions in Conflicts below)

Alyn is more open with affection—small, casual touches like brushing her hand against his (or her knee against his, because yes, she would; she’s, lost, traumatised and overcaffeinated teen). She completes his notes sometimes, drawing schemes from the board for him, describes things that catch her attention in and out of the class—all this happens naturally and easily.

Ominis is more reserved but deeply enjoys her presence and is grateful for her small gestures of help and appreciation. At first, he starts to subconsciously lean just a little closer than necessary during conversations. Over months time, he becomes braver about returning her gestures—a hand brushing hers deliberately, his voice softens noticeably when he speaks to her.

⋆˚⋆⌜ Time together ⌟⋆˚⋆

✨Studying: Since around the end of the fifth year, they often sit together at classes, at the library, or meet in common areas of the castle. Ominis becomes attuned to Alyn's steps, her scent, her presence. He’s startled to realise one day the sound of her voice reading aloud calms him.

✨Spells and Dueling Practice: Ominis’ magic is powerful, and his wand never misses. Alyn learns new spells quickly, and is excellent in explaining. Their training sessions are focused yet competitive and somewhat playful, filled with mutual encouragement and a bit of teasing. Alyn would brush the dust from a shattered dummy off his shoulder, and Ominis, whether he admitted it or not, would think that if the entire castle crumbled into dust around him, he wouldn’t mind—as long as it meant she’d be this close again, brushing it away with her hand.

✨Walks: Both enjoy long walks through the castle or by Black Lake. In the sixth year, they always visit Hogsmeade together. Sometimes they are just walking or sitting in silence. They don't normally talk in big emotional outbursts but instead share small, meaningful pieces of themselves over time.

⋆˚⋆⌜ Conflicts ⌟⋆˚⋆

They feel connection because they understand each other’s pain and offer emotional safety, but that very depth makes them vulnerable to fear, mistakes, and misunderstandings.

⚡️Curiosity vs protectiveness: Alyn is still new to the magical world. It makes her eager to learn everything—seemingly dangerous or not—out of wonder, fascination, and a desire to understand and catch up. Ominis, however, sees such curiosity as naivety and feels an urge to protect her, especially from anything risky. Alyn grows frustrated when she feels he’s infantilising her.

✨ Resolution: Alyn may prove her curiosity is tempered by caution, reassuring Ominis that she won’t put herself recklessly in harm’s way. Ominis, in turn, may learn to trust her judgment while remaining a protective figure she can rely on.

⚡️Miscommunication: Both Ominis and Alyn struggle with communication. Ominis often needs time alone to process his thoughts, but Alyn interprets his silence as distance or blame and tries to pull him out of it. If she doesn't succeed, she can rapidly go to 'Oh, it's now me not talking to you.'

✨ Resolution: They need to compromise—Alyn has to learns to give Ominis the time he needs, trusting that he will come back to her. Ominis, in turn, has to learn to communicate when he needs space instead of leaving her guessing.

⚡️SeBaStIaN isn’t even at school during their sixth year. But, whenever he’s brought up, Ominis subtly redirects or shuts the topic down, even though he's not as mad at him as he used to be and still considers him a friend. Among other feelings, Ominis is unsettled by the thought of Alyn reconnecting with Sebastian and leaving him behind. Again. His worry isn’t just jealousy (though it is that too). He fears Sebastian might pull her into something dark and dangerous. Again.

Ominis might: a) Withdraw—not to punish Alyn, but to protect himself emotionally. b) Overcompensate—offer her small gestures of affection, lingering touches, or closeness during homework sessions as a subconscious reassurance of their bond. c) Act stupid and say something he'll regret.

Alyn, in turn, gets irritated by his lack of trust, and such an attack on her judgment.

✨ Resolution: Alyn may reassure Ominis that she was never anything more than friends with Sebastian, and that she’s not under anyone’s influence. Ominis needs to learn to differentiate between jealousy and genuine worry and to communicate his fears in a healthier way.

⋆˚⋆⌜ Apologies ⌟⋆˚⋆

Ominis apologises after angry outbursts, guilt-ridden over losing control—something he fears makes him like his family. His apologies are slow and a bit awkward but deeply sincere. Alyn, on the other hand, apologises gently when she feels she’s misunderstood his intentions or pushed too hard.

Some of these 👆🏻bring them to this 👇🏻

⋆ Christmas 1891 ⋆

...and the aftermath. The second half of the sixth year.

Extra overcompensating for his insecurities while being not entirely sober, Ominis actually kissed Alyn. It happened after an argument following the Christmas party, but as Christmas magic would have it, that time both sides felt heard and satisfied. Eventually, they found themselves sitting together on the windowsill, sharing a quiet conversation. Aaand the first kiss happened.

Afterwards, Ominis apologised so many times they almost had another argument. Alyn reassured him that he didn’t need to apologise—that she didn’t mind them trying this new relationship. But of course, they have to make sure no one finds out.

And here the 'Shades' story begins

[ Thank you for reading all this! Now the little side note and rambling (sobbing on the floor) I don't think I actually succeeded at writing their friends to lovers trope in 'Darkness' I wasn't ever even going to post it and it shows. Well, anyway, I figured I'm rather more interested in writing adventure/action and seasoning it with romance than the other way around. That's what I'm trying to do better in 'Shades'. At the same time, now I have clearer understanding of how to deepen and write their relationship and again, it will all be covered in 'Shades' . You are very welcome to read 🤍]

[carpetbug]

Feline Blue AU Masterpost

What is FBAU?

FBAU is my own alternate universe where, before the events of origins, Master Fu is hunted down and killed by Hawkmoth. Moments before his death, he transfers guardianship to the first person to cross his path, who ends up being Marinette Dupain Cheng. Marinette learns about the miraculous and what being a guardian means from the kwamis, and eventually decides to wield the black cat ring. After a silly turn of events, Adrien Agreste, famous model and Marinettes new friend/classmate, becomes the wielder of the ladybug earrings.

Update schedule?

The actual fic updates whenever I’m ready to update it (that is to say it has absolutely no schedule), but I tend to draw a fair amount for this au! If you’d like to enjoy the au as I write it (without spoilers) I suggest sticking to the fic!! Most art and almost all ‘extra’ content has to do with later aspects of the story, so avoid those if you don’t want spoilers. (kwami swap pairings, hero names, love square dynamics, etc).

What tags do you/should I use?

I use the tags #ml fbau and #ml feline blue au, but certain characters have their own tags as well (#feline blue, #beetle rouge, etc).

You are welcome to make art of this au!! If you do, please tag me for credit and so I can be sure to see it! I’m also always taking asks/questions/requests for this au! I love to ramble <3.

Fic Chapters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four [wip]

Art

Feline Blue and Beetle Rouge

Marinette and Adrien go swimming

A single mom who works two jobs, who loves her kids and never stops

FBAU!Nino

FBAU!Alya

Alya redraw

Bee!Alya rough design

FBAU!Chloe

FBAU!Alix

FBAU!Luka

Tempore Lapin / Rabbit!Luka

FBAU!Kagami

FBAU!Juleka

FBAU!Rose

Mini comic 1

Mini comic 2

Kwami and holder interactions 1

Kwami and holder interactions 2

Kwami and holder interactions 3

Kim doodle

Felix and Duusu

Doodles 1

Doodles 2

Finger doodle

Catgirl stares at you

Beetle sketches

Beetle doodles

Beetleline doodle

Beetleline

Marirouge glaciator

Art dump

Tikki

He’s so fucked

Plagg

Literally kick her in the head

Nooroo

Duusu

Wayzz

Trixx

Trixx 2.0

Pollen

Longg

Sass

Fluff

Mullo

Kaalki

Ziggy

Orikko

Stompp

Barkk

Roaar

Daizzi

Xuppu

Miracle Tree

Extra

Spotify Playlists Folder [wip]

Song ask 1!

Song ask 2!

Pinterest Boards [always being updated!]

thimbleb3rries Beetleline genderbend!

bbutterflies commission!

wisteriasymphony art!

aeoluuus art!

d011zk1ll art 1!

d011zk1ll art 2!

d011zk1ll art 3!

d011zk1ll art 4!

d011zk1ll art 5!

d011zk1ll art 6!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 1!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 2!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 3!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 4!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 5!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 6!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 7!

d011zk1ll cysaw x fbau 8!

graythegreyt art 1!

graythegreyt art 2!

isabugs art!

friend art!

Ask 1 - favorite things

Ask 2 - difference between canon

Ask 3 - q+a

Ask 4 - chloe and zoe regarding the fox 1

Ask 5 - q+a

Ask 6 - Chloe and Zoe regarding the fox 2

Ask 7 - feline reacting to chloe

Ask 8 - marinettes taste in drinks

Ask 9 - first akuma

Ask 10 - real

Ask 11 - chapter 3 debrief

[last updated: August 16th, 2024]

[mistylune]

How I manifested an iPad (without realizing it.)

Hello! It’s been a bit a time since I last made a post. I’ve been pretty busy lately, but when I was thinking about what I wanted to post next, I remembered a success story from a while back. This story is definitely one of my favorites.

So to clarify, when I say that I manifested without realizing it, I mean that I manifested before being fully clear about the law. Back then, I wasn’t a part of the community, so I had no idea that what I was doing was manifesting, nor did I know either of the laws. I’ve come to learn that we manifest all the time subconsciously, and now I know how it is utilized properly. But in this story, keep in mind that this was before I was on tumblr.

So there are two types of LOA. Law of attraction, and Law of assumption. I used to confuse the two all the time, so I’ll quickly define them. I know you all have probably seen them defined a million times, so I’ll keep it brief.

(Also please note that these are my personal descriptions of them, so they may not be entirely accurate, nor make sense, but this is just how I would define them.)

Law of attraction is the belief that your thoughts are what attract things into your life, and by focusing your thoughts positively into the things that you desire, you can attract them into your life. For example, bringing money into your life.

Law of assumption is the belief that your thoughts are what shape your reality, and thus if you change your assumptions about yourself and your life, you can change your reality. In this case, instead of bringing, or attracting the money in your life, you would already have it.

I ended up using a mix of both when manifesting my IPad, so when I say LOA, I’ll be referring to both of them.

So onto the story.

A couple of years back, I got back into drawing, and while I enjoyed traditional art, I wanted to branch out into digital art. Many of my favorite artists that I saw on social media were drawing digitally, and I wanted to experiment in the medium. But the only device I had was my phone back then, and a school computer. When researching on what a lot of artists used for digital drawing, I discovered that many of the artists I admired used IPads for their artwork. And so, I decided then that I wanted to get one.

I remember that I focused a lot on what I would do if I had one. I would watch digital drawing tutorial videos, make Pinterest boards for inspiration, I followed my favorite artists on instagram, and would get inspired by watching speed paints and looking at their art. I remember how I would bask in the feeling of excitement at the thought of having my own iPad and creating my own artwork, focusing on the positive feelings that would arise when I thought about having one. Just thinking about it filled me with joy and motivation. I didn’t think of how, where, or where I would get it. I just knew that someday I would get one.

A few months later, it’s summer and I’m offered a spot on a team for a contest. After accepting, I attended a lot of meetings discussing the competition and preparing, we left two weeks later to compete. We worked really hard, and I had a lot of fun being on that team. When we competed, I was super excited but also full of nerves because we each had a part and I had to speak in front of a crowd. But it ended up paying off.

When the award ceremony came, I was full of nerves again, because I was unsure where we would place, or if we would even place at all. I remember seeing that a team I thought would win got second. At that moment I wondered which team was good enough to beat them for first place. And it ended up being my team. I felt a rush of excitement and emotions as we went up on stage and accepted our medals. It was my first time winning a team competition, so it was fun celebrating with the people I had been working with for two weeks. It was rewarding knowing that our hard work payed off. But the kicker was what happened after that.

After celebrating for a bit, and heading to the awards banquet, we learned what prizes we would receive for placing first. We received three prizes, and among them was…an IPad.

Now, I was in complete shock. I had heard from my mentor that the tech prize would be a computer. But it ended up being an IPad instead. The very thing I had said that I wanted. I remembered thinking it was just a very lucky coincidence, and I joked with my parents that I had gotten what I wished for. But now I know that in reality, I had actually manifested my iPad.

Recently, when I was struggling with manifestation again, and feeling stuck in a loop of negativity, I made a list of all the things I had already manifested to pull myself out of it. Through that, I was able to remember this story. Realizing that I had manifested before I even knew that it was a thing motivated me so much, because I realized I was putting so much pressure on myself to do something I had already done several times.

So I think the best advice I could give is that if you are struggling with doubt and negative thoughts, please remember how powerful you are. You are capable of manifesting anything that you want. I know it seems unbelievable at times. It was for me too, which I why I first saw my manifestation as a lucky coincidence. I’ve realized too that putting a label on the law often adds this extra pressure, because we aren’t sure if we are applying it correctly. But we are the creators of our realities. There is no wrong way to manifest. Just do what works best for you. But don’t give up. If you do, you could miss out on receiving your desires. The law cannot fail, and neither can you.

Thank you so much for reading! I truly hope this post was able to motivate or help you in some way. I’ll see you guys in the next post!

With love,

Lune.

[laswells-ashtray]

I'm so sorry if I'm clogging your inbox but I'm nothing but a hyperactive gal with chronic brain rot

Domestic Kate Laswell?

Domestic Kate Laswell who gets into not-so-quiet arguments with household appliances.

Domestic Kate Laswell who sits at the kitchen table and doomscrolls while her wife makes a recipe she saw on Instagram reels.

Domestic Kate Laswell in ratty lounge clothes with her hair pulled in a tangled ponytail, somehow holding a cat, book, and a bag of Lays.

I saw Kate Laswell and immediately knew what I had to do. Not apologising for this, I like Laswell posting so it's gonna be long. Also, when it comes to Station Chief Kate "I love my wife" Laswell, there is no clogging my inbox.

Kate Laswell, the esteemed woman she is routinely argues with their toaster because it's broken but she refuses to get a new one because it was the first ever appliance she bought herself. She and her wife have the money to purchase hundreds of new toasters but she refuses because this one is her toaster. Sarah Laswell has walked into their kitchen on multiple occasions to find Kate talking to this fucking toaster. "You under-toast the bread and then you over-toast the bread. Just toast my fucking bread correctly." "Let's get a new-" "No."

Kate, who has a Pinterest board full of recipes that she thinks Sarah might like to try and she'll send them to her wife only to find that it's the same recipe from the Instagram reel that Sarah had bookmarked last night. So, now she sits and watches videos about behind-the-scenes facts from movies while Sarah argues with herself about how much garlic is too much garlic.

Kate, who spends her day off on the couch with Minnie, their Maine Coon, on her lap with a book resting on Minnie's back and a bag of chips held between her chest and the cat. She's wearing sweatpants that are so old she can't identify what logo used to be on the leg. Her shirt is definitely Sarah's because there's green paint around the collar and it matches the green in the painting above their mantel.

Kate Laswell, who can routinely be heard threatening to put one of her cats in the soup. What soup, you ask? The soup.

Kate, who very `begrudgingly` agrees to let Sarah buy the cat Halloween costumes. And then days later sends John a series of photos. Minnie, their big, glorious, sophisticated girl, is dressed like a hotdog. Borris, her favourite grumpy old man, has a stupid Dracula cape. Dolly, has on a costume that makes her look like Yoda. And John's favourite of their cats, Dot, the little mold spore has tiny ladybug wings because they were the only thing small enough to fit her. Kate makes a photo of the four cats and Sarah her laptop wallpaper. John makes a photo of Dot in her tiny wings his phone wallpaper.

Kate Laswell, the professional woman who after having spent 26 hours awake sits and scrolls through Facebook one night on Sarah's phone. Except she doesn't actually look at any of the posts, she just sits scrolling with her thumb for ten minutes before she realises what she's been doing. Sarah waits until after she's tucked her wife in to lose it laughing in the other room.

Kate and her wife who parallel play on their phone. They'll sit on the couch with a movie they've seen countless times in the background while Kate plays solitaire and Sarah does her daily word search on her favourite app.

Kate, who does that thing I've noticed literally every woman do when they're on the phone at home and they start doodling in the corner of the nearest bit of paper. It starts as squiggles, then they draw black circles and eventually there are various little flowers scattered across the page.

Kate, who absolutely adores the movie 9 to 5 and will throw it on whenever everything in her job starts to become a bit too suffocating. Sarah recognises the action and immediately orders dinner from their local Thai place. The man who owns it knows the two by name, she doesn't have to order, she just has to call up and she hears "it'll be about half an hour" over the phone. More often than not on those days they'll fall asleep on the couch together like they did at the start of their relationship.

Kate and her wife, who like to make gingerbread cookies at Christmas and decorate them. Sarah is amazing at it when she's not giving the gingerbread ladies gumdrop titties. And then there's Kate, she tries, she genuinely does but every year a photo of her gingerbread folks gets sent to a group chat with her, Sarah, John and Nikolai where they are subsequently body-shamed beyond belief. She saves some for Nik anyway and he accepts them gratefully.

Kate and her beloved blue shirt that she wears to work and owns three of because the first one mysteriously disappeared. Coincidentally, Sarah started baking in the kitchen in nothing but a pale blue shirt and Batman underwear around the same time. Her second has a blood stain on the cuff from where John had grabbed her, not knowing his palm was sliced open and he'd stained the light material with blood. He had felt horrible, Kate brought up the time she'd drunkenly thrown up on a pair of his nice shoes years ago when they were younger and more reckless. They moved on. That shirt is now her "Sarah has roped me into helping paint" shirt. If anyone fucks up her last shirt then she's asking Nikolai, John and Sarah separately all to get her a new one for her birthday so she'll have a decent stock of them.

Sarah, who has to keep a stock of Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew in the fridge because Dr Pepper is her favourite and Mountain Dew is Kate's but the other woman would never admit it or buy it for herself because she's weirdly embarrassed by it. But amongst a very small group of people, it is common knowledge, Station Chief Kate Laswell's favourite drink is Mountain Dew.

And lastly:

Kate Laswell, the woman who once snapped a man's neck with his own gun, is also the woman who loves her wife's family. When they get asked to babysit baby Katie [named after Laswell], the two women agree before the question is even half out of the relative's mouth. In fact, you're right, they should keep baby Katie for the night just to give her parents a night off because they're kind like that. No other reason. And this little girl adores her aunts, if Kate is near then the toddler is by her side clinging to her pant leg.

So, they go shopping and get snacks. They also get baby Katie a new stuffed elephant because she really needed one and who were they to deprive her. Then they go home and change into their respective comfy clothes. Katie's is a little shark onesie and the two women take no less than 19 photos. They spend the day drawing pictures with little Katie, and eventually, it results in the toddler colouring in Sarah's tattoos and drawing Kate some of her own. Eventually, they order some takeout from their local Chinese place and watch Zootopia with their favourite niece. Hours later Sarah takes a photo of big Kate fast asleep on the couch with little Kate asleep on her chest. Kate has an arm around the little girl and the toddler has a fistful of her t-shirt. The next day they very reluctantly take their niece home but not without managing to persuade her parents to let them take her in two weeks time again.

[hstayafanart]

Ignore the mashed up perspective haha

I have a pinterest board for each of the gang's bedrooms. Horror's is full of plants, and I thought he might need some reference to his past as a scientist, so he got some planets hanging off his bedframe, too.

Finished another chapter of my next fic. Only about two chapters in, but I feel like I'm starting to get the ball rolling a bit. Writing the first draft's the hardest bit: editing is waaaayyy easier than creating something from a blank page.

I'm not sure how much of my brainstorming/outline will stay until the final product, but this is based on vague ideas I had for later in the fic. I don't know if the pacing will allow it but I thought it was a cute image, so I've been poking at this drawing for a month or so.

[anloartreduster]

Hey guys! How’s it going? Hope, you’re all doing well (: ! I’m finally able to post something after a million years later as I’ve finally completed both my work and finals for this college semester, so I’ll be posting more this winter break for sure. This is one of the projects I’ve been wondering on the side lines that’s been delayed so many times, but finally, since everything is over things can start rolling along. In this post I’m just going to be talking about my thought process throughout my drawing!

Q. What is this mural for?

A. This mural is for students who go into the student engagement lobby in my college, which I also go there, although more specifically it’s going to be located in the gaming room.

Moving forward with this project, I had decided that I didn’t want the character to be human, but instead I thought an animal would be best suited for this composition. In fact, I remember my high school teacher talking about how humans find anthropomorphized animals more relatable, how we empathize with them more, and how we can find many examples of that idea throughout comics, along with other pieces of literature. Originally, I wanted to make the character a bird, but after some rough drafting I found that would be challenging and maybe a bit too much for the piece, so I settled for a cat.

Afterwards, I made a few palettes to test them on the cat to see how they would possibly look and what would make an interesting character design. Most of these cats, specially 1,3, and 4 were based off cats I found off Pinterest since I don’t know many cat breeds myself since I’m mostly into birds. Next, cat 2 is based off the Maneki-neko which I’ve seen back in my old neighborhood in restaurants and, maybe once, at a family friend’s house. Last, the 5th cat is from a suggestion from one of the people who showed me Morgana from Persona 5.

I held a voting on my instagram to which the 4th cat got the most votes, although things would end up taking a completely different route.

This is one of my projects where I struggled the most with creating as many thumbnails as possible… my professor in my summer semester for 2D design told us 15-20 thumbnails would be good as that allows for a lot of variety and would be a good way for trying to expand our creative boundaries by trying new ideas or at least figuring solutions to our problems. Sadly, I’ve only made 7 in total to which 4 of them aren’t included in this post. My brain was really stuck on this idea of doing this specific perspective, along with pose, for this character. Within all the thumbnails, I tried adding items from serveral different board games and adding a controller to really communicate the idea of “this is a gaming room where you can play anything you want with your friends.”

This is the stage where a lot of things just got thrown away as it made the piece feel oversaturated with ideas, so I just boiled it down to a cat jumping up in an energetic pose with a controller with the phrase “let’s game” at the topic. I was going to add one more videos, but it seems that I’m only allowed to insert one video. In the first video, I had realized that I had already a pre-picked palette for this mural I had done a while back that I ended up using then boiling it down to a more simpler palette as this is the first time I’m doing a mural and I don’t want to do anything crazy nor out of my abilities.

That’s it for this post! I’m going to be making some more blogs about different projects during this winter break (: Hope to see you all soon on the next post!

[lmaowh-at]

I really love your artstyle so I wanted to ask whether there was any inspiration behind it? I don't really think you can just "find" your artstyle without putting any thoughts at all behind it, so maybe some favourite artists by who you were inspired? Even when you draw in different styles it's still kinda recognisable that you were the one to draw it

Oh wow! That's a big question because I take a lot of inspiration from artists that I can't recall, but I will try!

I think the first ever thing that really influenced my style was..... jjba. Idk if there's still anything resembling arakis style in my art but it was a huge stepping stone so I think I have to mention it

Another very important inspiration for me was Marc Chagall... I got a book about his work in the moscow jewish theatre and I think it seriously altered my brain chemistry. The compositions and shapes he uses are crazy. Also fun fact my great grandpa was a student of his

I think medieval manuscripts in general have been a big source of inspo for me in recent years especially after getting into pentiment and french monarchy rpf (dumas' valois trilogy). I think you can really see my inclination towards very flat & structured (? Idk how to explain this) compositions. Also sometimes I just straight up copy the style like in that one idiot fanart. It's very fun and serves well for the kind of media i usually like

(Ft a stavos wip I drew a while ago but it's kinda nothing so I didn't post it)

Umm I think artists like Hugo Pratt and Gigi Cavenago also made an impact. Pratt especially in later Corto Maltese comics, like golden house of samarkand for example. For Gigi Cavenago is just the covers of dd lmao AGAIN WITH THE COMPOSITION AND COLORS... they're just so good

More artists: Harry Beckhoff, Tove Jansson, uhhhh. There's a lot I just don't remember currently sorry!

Also some artists online that are big inspirations for me:

Ruiriell

Antikovich

Cy_lindric

Puyogho

And my pinterest board with a lot of other stuff

That's it I think. Thank you for the ask!!!

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Hello!! Little question here, do you have any tip for beginner artists?! I’m really looking forward to improving and not giving up!

nope! I dont have many tips (except i did… and tumblr deleted my long speech. Oh well. Im redoing this ask)

i was a beginner artist so long ago, infant really, so i cant recall much. Being a beginner artist is the hardest stage of an artist’s life to me. I am not the person to wax poetry about it so i’ll get to the point.

so as to not leave you chewing at nothing, i’ll offer what stuck with me. (Take this all with a brain of salt and feel free to ignore):

Only improve if it makes you happy - i’ve spent years never trying hard to improve my art and those have been my happiest eras. I just drew fandom art and oc art and was happy drawing the same stuff over and over. I did improve of course, i just never realized until i looked back. Sometimes following art tutorials feels too daunting and so i simply wait for the monotony to get too boring and inspire me to step out of my comfort zone.

kill the critic in your head + kill social media - likes don’t equal enjoyment, dont hold your breath for comments, followers dont equal the people who see you, commissions dont equal worth, more shares doesnt mean more exposure, etc. all that matters is to find how to quiet that critic in your head that says you’re not good enough / compares you to others. All that matters is to only have a handful of social medias you really care about (really care about) and even then only use them to connect with people who *really* care about you as a creator. Make friends, talk with mutuals, join group chats. Dont post art and expect social fulfillment. You get fulfillment in life by connecting 1:1 and showing art in those close conversations in dm. You can post art online publicly, but do it because *you* want to, not because you feel it’s your only option to connect with people.

experiment experiment experiment - go on pinterest and find art tutorials and try them, even if they seem hard, even if they seem confusing. Gestural art, upside down art, blind color challenges, limited color pallets, silhouette art, shape language, etc. just scroll and collect art tutorials and focus on making art less stressful and more loose. Even if you never see the purpose of these, you will find they expand you knowledge of art. You may unexpectedly find yourself using it in art later down the line.

find inspirations and role models - archive art you like. Look at it on a later date and analyze what you love in it, take notes, break it down, figure out what elements make you feel good looking at and incorporate it into your own art. Experimentally at first, dont expect anything to be perfect. Idk what to say, i keep folders and folders of art inspo and yet i never use them because i never put an emphasis on making “serious” art. But i know some people like crafting drawings, and so i suggest finding what to aim for first before the blank canvas scares you.

i could come up with more i am sure, but im lazy and this is what i have.

here’s my art tip pinterest board.

if you ever want more specific arg advice i can help with that.

[kinmokusei-stars]

Some modern 30s InuKou Fashion silliness to get back into the swing of things! 🌊

I've been really busy lately, so have some pretty 30s Kouko art, with a splash of InuKou! I love drawing her in different outfits, and she's just so beautiful. ( *´ ꒳ `* ) I love how comfortable and happy she can look later in life, even if Inuyasha's still as protective as ever over his wife LMAO

I wanted a simple and cute outfit for the first bit, but the second one was inspired by some clothes I've had in her Pinterest board for ages now! I really love how it came out, and figured I'd give it a bit of a rustic fall energy, even if it's definitely winter at the moment LMAO

Inuyasha's outfit isn't as elaborate, but I plan to draw them both in some more fun outfits soon! I love dabbling in some fun fashion! I love how this turned out! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

[library-ducky]

I came home from the seaside with no wifi (as soon as I came back Bee went "I missed our unhinged ass", I feel so loved) two days ago, so I am back on my "Ghouls on vacation headcanons" bullshit

more specificaly: what patterns would the four surfer Ghouls (Rain, Swiss, Sunshine and Aurora) have on their boards

full disclosure: I have never surfed and I'm not an expert on surfboards, this is PURELY about the colours

photos and extra descriptions under the cut :3

RAIN

he'd go for either monochrome (obviously blue) or some sort of sea-related pattern. When I saw the bottom photo, I immediately headcanoned it being a gift to him from the pack. It's his favourite one and he makes sure he takes care of it properly

SWISS

I can't really explain this one, but as soon as I saw the one on the bottom I went "yeah Swiss has that one" so... he gives off the vibes of owning all of these

SUNSHINE

inspired by her name, she leans towards the colours of the sunset, although a occasional floral pattern is just as loved

AURORA

she is the pretty princess and her boards reflect that. Once she learns how to surf properly, she immediately goes for the pink boards. Her first ones are simple, but eventually she changes it up to patterned ones. She sees the bottom right one a while later and immediately decides to get it, even if it's not that pink

all photos are from Pinterest

this is all for now, I have some drawings in the making that will hopefully be finished some time soon :3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ reblogs are appreciated ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[m4iya]

ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙ Matchup #5 @cannibalsrider ˙⋆✮ᐟ.ᝰ

Hello! This is the lonesome, last matchup sitting in my inbox :3

This will probably be my last one for a while! I have another event coming soon..!

And so, after reading your submission, I’ve come to the decision to match you with Koushi Sugawara!

Let’s start with one of the first hobbies that you listed; drawing! In terms of drawing, you might use Suga as your reference. I’ve imagined a little story that goes like this:

As a first year in high school, you can find yourself easily overwhelmed by the jump from middle school. At times, you become distracted by things other than work in class and end up forgetting to take notes.

It was a warm autumn afternoon, and you were listening to your teacher talk about some complicated equation. It was the last period, students were tired, and you were beginning to lose focus completely. Flipping to a blank page, you click your mechanical pencil and begin drawing little stars across the page, thinking of what to doodle.

In the row in front of you to the left, sat a boy with grey hair. Suddenly, his elbow knocked a rubber off his desk, bouncing behind him. He shifted slightly out from his chair, bending over to grab it. His body slightly faced yours, and you caught a glimpse of a beauty spot under his eye. Soon after, you found yourself sketching your view of him from your desk. You couldn’t help but smooth out every stroke of his hair and define every crease and fold in his T-shirt.

Now, two years have passed, and you’ve become much closer to him than you imagined, frequently hanging out together. You’ll sketch him as he enjoys a slice of cake at a café, or when he rests his head on your lap after a picnic. You’ve even done the ‘paint each other’ trend that’s been floating around. He always teases you, saying “Theres so many other things you could be drawing, but you always choose to draw me!” You giggle, cheeks pink, unable to explain why.

I’d imagine you might make Pinterest boards of outfits and send them to him. He’d tell you what he thinks, and you’d try to make a piece from it using online references. If you can make it, you can save money on a whole outfit! (that is, if the material needed for it is in total, cheaper than the outfit, but I don’t design clothes so I wouldn’t know ^-^) You might even send him photos of clothes in the store that would remind you of him (sweaters, long cardigans, turtlenecks, y’know, that stuff). In return, he’d do the same, except in his case, he’d be out, grabbing something from the shopping centre when he finds one of those knitted/crocheted/handmade item stands. He’ll take a photo of matching keychains (bees, or strawberries or something like that) and send it to you. (I’m assuming) It’ll catch your eye, and you’ll say something along the lines of ‘How cute! Where did you find these??’ to which he won’t reply; an hour later, there’s a knock on your door, and a chirpy Suga presents the keychains, one for you and one for him.

And finally, in terms of gardening! I’m not sure if you plant fruits, veggies or flowers or everything! But I can imagine you gardening together with him. He’ll come over on a warm Summer morning, and the two of you would work on organising your flower bed together. He’d picked up some seeds from the store on the way there, and said that they reminded him of you, asking you to plant them. Though, the packet of seeds he had given you had its label torn off. You agreed, and the both of you spent the day tidying up your garden together. In the end, dirt seemed to cover you more than the seeds underground.

Skipping forward a while (I’m not sure how long these flowers take to sprout and grow..) your flowerbed was definitely flourishing. You had daisies, tulips, hydrangeas, zinnias, and.. sunflowers? Where did those come from?

Taking out your phone, you send a picture to Suga, asking him if the sunflowers were his doing.

‘Oh, they finally grew!’ he replies.

‘They’re really pretty’ you write back.

‘I thought you told me these flowers remind you of me; how does a sunflower do that?’

‘Well, it’s sort of because you’re so big and bright – kinda reminds me of a sunflower’

‘How am I bright? I’m not super loud or anything’

‘You don’t always have to be loud to touch someone’s heart!!’