#every time i draw them their ego comes out different

[sukunasteeth]

Idk why but I think that Sukuna's s/o would be like, some kind of freelance or professional artist who'd use him as her reference/live model since he has a good built and whatnot without him knowing lol idk why but I just thought it was a cute idea and I wanted to share bc you're like my most favourite writer here on Tumblr who mains Sukuna and there aren't a lot of them so basically–ily and I hope you day or night is going well!!

–R

This came into my inbox so long ago T.T Please forgive me for taking a minute to get back to you but I wanted to write a little snippet for this one cause ily. Anon you are so sweet!! I'm so honored to receive this little message. Thank you for sharing your cute idea with me T.T I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed getting this message <3 Thank you for reading

You knew he would tease you.

You knew the moment he happened to see inside your sketchbook was the moment his ego became truly untamable. It was the moment that any ounce of mystery you had left crumbled into the shape of him.

If he knew that you studied anatomy by watching the way his muscles move under the laundry room lamp while he folds up your clothes at night. If he knew that your sketchbook was basically just a love letter written to the way his hands form around yours. Or the way his back muscles glisten with sweat when he comes home from his morning runs. If he knew that you had studied him so deeply that you could map him out down to the freckles that nobody else knows about, you're sure you would hear about it for the rest of eternity.

Which is why this morning, when you happen to wake up before him and see him fast asleep in the perfect position, you can’t help yourself when you grab your notebook and a pen and crawl back into bed with him. 

He was still curled up around your absent figure, his head tucked against the pillow and lowered just right so that his nose would have been pressed into your hair. Your current lesson in anatomy was his back, which you had an ideal view of. The muscles- perfectly symmetrical on either side, tightening and releasing under golden skin that's been kissed darker by the sun. And in the center: the valley of his spine, each notch a favorite place of yours to kiss. 

Every time you draw Sukuna, you fall in love with a different part of him. You admire him until all that’s left of you is nothing but a racing heartbeat. 

Racing especially when you happen to peek up at his face to confirm he was still asleep and you find his lion-like gaze already settled onto you. 

Uh-oh. 

You’re trying to act natural. Immediately folding the cover back over your sketchbook and turning slowly to try and slip off the bed without him noticing. 

Maybe he’s still half asleep. Maybe he didn't register you-

And he's already grabbing onto your ankle before you can even get an inch towards the edge of the mattress.

You don't know why you're not expecting him to ruthlessly drag you back to him, but you squeal when he tugs your knee out from under you and has you face-planting into the sheets. Sukuna doesn't seem to mind your squirming as there is no pause or hesitation in his movement. He barely even seems half awake when he lazily crawls over you and seats himself onto your hips, effectively stopping you from even thinking of an escape route.

"Why are you already running?" He yawns, his eyes slivered in a combination of suspicion and sleepiness. 

You try your best to appear innocent, clutching your sketchbook for dear life. This was the closest Sukuna had ever come to it while you were sketching him and it instantly had a sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Despite your determination to remain unsuspecting, your voice catches when you reply to him, "I-I'm not running."

And that's all it took. One stutter, one second of hesitation, and Sukuna's eyes are widening in a flash as his pupils hone in on your expression. He always knew your tells, knew instantly when you were trying to lie to him. He took pride in it actually. It’s the reason you’re already half accepting your fate. 

His energy buzzes with excitement as he recognizes apprehension in your gaze. His smile flickering with anticipation.

"Oh?" He murmurs, closing in on your airspace. You can still smell the scent of manzanita wood in his shampoo from his shower last night. "And why are you nervous?" His voice is a silky hum.

"I'm not nervous." You whisper, trying to shrink backwards into the bed, trying not to provoke the bear.

It was too late. He’s been awake all of one minute and he was already going to play with you. 

"You know," Sukuna clears the sleep out of his throat, "This thing has been getting more attention than me lately.” You hold fast when his fingers wrap around your sketchbook and tug gently, as if to prove a point with how tight your grip was on it. “Why is that, I wonder?"

"Nothing gets more attention than you." You mutter, your dry look only worsening when Sukuna's smile grows all too knowing. “I’m just… trying to finish a commission for work.” 

"Do you usually blush when you’re working on a commission?" 

"Oh god,” You groan, “please drop it I beg of you."

“You first.” He challenges, tugging on the book once again. “I’d like to see what’s so important.”

“Sukuna-” You let out a surprised laugh when he wraps his hand around your wrist and starts to pry your arm away. “Waitwaitwait!”

There was no use in trying to win in a game of tug of war with him. Even though he’s just woken up, he’s impossibly stronger than you are. And while he’s usually carefully aware of that fact when handling you, he had no problem mercilessly grabbing your fighting hands into one of his own and pinning them uselessly above you. 

Your pleading falls onto deaf ears. Sukuna grabs onto the book, but before he can open it you manage to say just the right thing. 

“It’s private!” You squeak.

Sukuna pauses, his surprised eyes meeting yours like you had just called out your safe-word.

You know that you had probably just made him twice as curious as he was before about your notebook, but you weren’t ready to face the embarrassment of him finding out what was inside of it yet. It wasn't the time.

He rolls his eyes and before he releases you, his free hand reaches up and he gently flicks your nose. You flinch and he follows up the sting with a chaste but soothing kiss. 

“Cheater.” He mutters in defeat. With nothing left to toy with, he finally crawls off of you and heads towards the bathroom without another glance at your sketchbook. Before he passes the threshold, he leaves you with a request, but you can tell by the tone of his voice and the taunting smile he gives you that it was more like a new rule.

"No working in our bed after business hours, please."

[sunlit-mess]

you are criminally underrated. *holds out hands like a sad victorian child* any tips for a young artist? :)

im a very. tired. artist.

To aspiring artists, I'm not sure what 'tips' or advice I can give that were not already said by another. However, I'll remind you anyway.

"There's no secret to art... just begin and keep going. That's all we can do."

Always set your pace, and take your time learning. Art is something that isn't rushed, rather it grows through experience. Think of it like exp points or something, the more you gain, the more you know and skills acquired. It doesn't mean you HAVE to abide by the principles or rules either, though it's best to know them. Knowledge comes in different ways and your method is yours to explore.

As for motivation, it's something you'd find attached to, a mission and values thing per se. Find your dedication, how will you strive, how much are you willing to pursue. What keeps you going? What WILL keep you determined?

We take criticism critically: Don't get your ego attached to every work, everyone has their own perspective. What I mean to say is to understand errors and find improvement. Be HONEST with yourself and your work. Nothing is ever wrong in art, hell- even the most fucked-up ones can look so beautiful and meaningful.

In social media or sharing artworks, it's cool to show them to your friends or relevant platforms your craft would be in, just gotta learn the long process of algorithm somehow... It's a pain, but never lose confidence! Believe in yourself. Even the tiniest of work, effort is counted as special. Because it's from you!

Lastly, enjoy what you do! Have fun once in a while, and best that you find fun all the time in your crafts! You create for a cause and not just to please. Art shouldn't be a cause to break you, rather it builds you.

I hope this message is enough? ::)

I've been drawing since I was young, now as an adult- my art is meh compared to other artists out there, but I still try my best to keep my mark around.

So much has happened in my life and I'm still VERY lost, especially in a path as an 'Artist'. Though, I fell off in art, burned out, and relapsed more than I can count,

nothing or no one can kill the part of me that just wants the world to see that I can still... Create.

[klttn]

Hi!! I love your writing a lot, especially how you write Vox <3 Can you write something where the reader works for Val and is about to have her first time with Vox, but she's scared about stealing him from Val :(

⁺˳✧༚ ˚ 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 ｡⋆୨୧˚

— 𝜗𝜚 vox x val x f!reader

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 summary : val shares his little bunny with vox for the first time but she’s scared it might make them jealous. nsfw. sensitive reader. daddy kink. sir kink. soft dom!vox / hard dom!val. slapping. slight dumbification. bunny!reader. val is kind of a cuck.

“daddy, i’m scared,” your voice timid as you and val approached the gargantuan doors to vox’s penthouse, “what if he doesn’t like me?”

you’d met the man so many times, loved him even, so much time spent with him just by being valentino’s little girl. he’d always watch movies with you n look after you when valentino couldn’t.

but today was different, you didn’t think val would agree to sharing you with vox, he saw how you looked at him, yearned for him. so when val told you vox wanted that to, even for a night, it made you ecstatic. it’s just what if he doesn’t like me?

valentino purred, “look at you cosita, such a pretty thing, what’s not to love?” you blushed at his statement, twirling your hair a little and letting his long tongue lick a stripe up your neck. “mis dos amores, you will love eachother.” he slapped your ass, “even more than i know you already do.”

with confidence, valentino pulled away from his licking endeavours and pushed open the doors in front of you. your eyes widened in awe, the room revealing a sight so alluring, you were trying not to drool.

vox was man spread, softly trailing his own hand up his thigh, drawing all the attention to the slacks outlining his perfect bulge, hard and wanting. you didn’t miss the way it twitched when you both strolled through the door. tucked into those, was a button up shirt, barely there, exposing his collarbones, all the way down to his chest, slightly transparent from a thin layer of sweat, his forearms, veiny and fully exposed with the sleeves rolled up.

“voxxy, look who i brought for you!” val sang, your eyes still fixated on the man in front of you, glued to his groin. “am i the best boyfriend or what, mi vida?” in a way that question could be aimed at both of you.

vox let out a little chuckle, “and that’s why they pay you the big bucks, isn’t that right?” he was stroking vals ego like he was made to, smug smirk forming across the moth man’s face. vox’s gaze shifted, “and what do we have here?” his voice broke your gaze on his thighs. “the needy little bunny, i can’t wait to get my hands on you,” he sighed, “i can’t lie, pretty girl, ive wanted this for so long.” you felt the drag of his eyes on you, searching every inch of your body before you could even show him.

“don’t make him wait any longer, little bunny,” valentino’s hand pushed against your back inching you closer to vox. “show him why you’re my prized possession.”

you took a big gulp before seductively strutting over to the tv headed man, swaying your hips just so, only pausing when you found yourself stood inbetween vox’s thighs.

you tried to be as confident as valentino liked you to be with others but you found yourself shrinking under vox’s gaze, just like you did when val looked at you the very same way.

you turned to glance at val, he could tell how nervous you were by your trembling lips. “it’s okay, conejita,” his voice smooth as silk as he stalked over to you, standing behind you, vox intently watching everything. “he likes you just like i do,” val was now flush against your back, his hands finding their way to your tits, stroking them and freeing them for the other man to see. vox growled. “dumb, ditzy and obedient.”

vals hands were still stroking your body, lifting up the small amount of clothing you had on, flashing more of your soft skin, eliciting soft whimpers from you and horny groans from vox. “val, come on, fuck, i need her.” he reached forward, placing his whiskey on the coffee table and moving his hands to your thighs, caressing and wanting, you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“you gonna be a good little girl for him, cosita?” a pleasing whine left your lips as you nodded your head. “words.” vals grip on your tits harshened causing you to yelp.

“yes, daddy,” you felt vox stiffen, “gonna be so good for him, i promise.” you caught a glimpse of his cock twitch at that, which only went straight to your pussy. he must like that.

you felt the hands on your thighs wrap to your ass, playing with the flesh there, toying and teasing. “come here, little girl,” it was said as a command but vox did all the work, pulling you in by your ass, forcing you to straddle his lap. “good girl.”

a thought plagued you for a moment and vox caught on before you could hide it, his eyes narrowing, he always did know if anything was ever wrong with you. “you don’t have to do this, baby, you know that right?”

“i know it’s just-“ you huffed, struggling to find the words.

“just what pretty girl? tell me.” pause. “tell us.”

“don’t want daddy to think i’m trying to take him from you or- or that you’re trying to take me from him,” weak voice shaking as you spoke, turning to val. “cause i love you n i will always want you n i promise but i just i want this too, n i feel bad cause i want you n i want vox n i just- i want so much but i just don’t wanna make you jealous or mad at me” the men already taking action to comfort you, speaking a million words to eachother through their eyes as you spoke. “please don’t be mad at me.”

valentino laughed. “oh baby, of course not, if i was mad at you or didn’t want this do you really think i’d be this hard,” a subtle thrust gave you the answer. no. “such a sensitive thing.” he found this so cutely amusing, loving how pathetic you were right now. “and maybe, conejita, if that’s how you feel, you can be our little bunny, not just mine, we could share you, love you, cherish you just like i already do.”

your nose twitched cutely, a soft coo from vox going unnoticed. “be together? all of us? you n vox, me n vox, you n me?” your silly head was getting overwhelmed.

“that’s right baby,” val praised. “if he’d like that,” he added, “would you like that conejita?” your eyes went doe like with hope, idea immediately flooding you with excitement, “yeah?” you nodded slowly, looking back to vox expectantly, “we could both own your pretty little body as much as we own eachothers, do you like the sound of that baby?”

“please!” you begged, “vox please,” your begging making vox’s heart pound. both of the men’s hands rubbing soothing circles on you.

“you wanna be our little bunny? yeah, baby?” vox mused, clearly loving the thought of you being his.

“mhm,” you needed them both so close, forcing them to press into you more, your strength pathetic compared to theirs but them allowing the subtle pull non the less. “i wanna be yours, please.”

“i’ll tell you a little secret, bunny,” vox begun, nuzzling himself into your neck, taking in your scent like never before, “that’s partly why you’re here today. when daddy told me you wanted, this,” he gestured to himself, “we both knew us dating wouldn’t be far behind, we planned for this baby.”

“really?”

“really.” vox squeezed where his hands rested, pausing before adding on, “that means you’re mine now too.” you smiled and nodded giddily.

valentino could tell the moment had eased, letting out a chuckle that broke your soft moment with vox, “if she misbehaves, just scare her a little, her pussy will be dripping and she’ll be back to being this pathetic in no time.” valentino winked, his grip loosened as he slipped away, feeling a kiss on one of your lop ears before his touch was gone completely, instigating the sex you knew was gonna happen. but you were too focused on the doting man in front of you to care.

vox pulled his head back, attention now fully onto you, he lifted a hand under your chin, index finger and claw pulling your face closer to his. lips parted and soft, eyes pretty and excited. truly noticing just how beautiful you were up close. it was as if valentino’s absence caused something to shift in vox, dominant nature coming more to the forefront than it already was, “i don’t think you’re capable of being anything but pliant, are you bunny?” vox mused, using his thumb to rub over your bottom lip. “daddy thinks you might misbehave but i think i’ll have you too dumb to even think about doing such a thing.”

vox’s touch was nothing like vals. his was rough and demanding, a constant reminder of power and abuse, control over everything you did. it was poisonous and addicting. but this, this was anything but. his words like honey, so sweet. his touch so soft and intoxicating, it had you drunk on all the ways he could take care of you. the force so gentle you found yourself doing everything he wanted just to see what other compelling words would slip from his mouth and touch from his actions. they were two sides of a coin and you wanted, no, needed it all.

you were pulled from your thoughts as vox’s hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’m gonna take care of you, little one,” he whispered, deep and guttural, his hips softly grinding into you, “all you need to do is look cute and let me.” his hands now on your hips, guiding you to grind in rhythm with him. “no need for any thoughts in that pretty head of yours, just whimpers and letting me mold your body how i please.” a soft hold on your throat now had you looking at him with glazed eyes, “do you think you can do that, yeah baby?”

“yes, sir,” it was soft in the way that you said it, barely audible but crystal clear to vox, your cheeks were tinting pink and cunt becoming messier the more he spoke.

“sir?” he asked, “god, are you trying to kill me?” you bit your lip, hips still bucking with vox’s, pushing yourself into vox’s touch on your neck. “so adorable,” he started, “barely even put my hands on you and you’re already messy and pliable in my lap,” he cooed, “you’re just begging me to take care of you at this point,” you nodded gingerly, “need a little break from doing all the work with daddy, sweetie, is that it? need sir to get you cock drunk and helpless in his touch, yeah?”

vox words had you hanging off them and you couldn’t get enough of it, his grip moved to your hair, stroking the soft locks and playing with the fluffy ears nestled within it. “please,” your voice was hollow and desperate, your ears were so sensitive and his voice had you feeling dizzy. you felt like you could cry with the softness of his actions, it was everything you didn’t know you were missing with val.

“awh you’re so pretty when you beg, baby, cute little voice so soft i can barely hear you,” he preened, “don’t worry little girl, i’ll look after you.” his hands skated their way to your thighs to stand you back up, much to your dismay. he did it with ease, your face now eye level with him eventhough he was still seated. “but first, i need to get a good look at my new little bunny.”

you did a little spin between his thighs, your hair and floppy ears twirling, tits bouncing cutely as you did so earning a little chuckle from vox. “so, cute,” he muttered. his hands made their way over your body, wordlessly letting them drag over every inch of you, bit by bit sending shivers through you. his touch so alluring it had you melting in its wake, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. he’d go extra slow over the peaks of your nipples, swirling his fingers and rubbing his thumbs over the buds just to hear you mewl for him. right now, you were just as much a drug to him as he was to you.

his hands finally stilled at the hem of your waistband, his head leaning forward to kiss the soft skin before it, “can i see the pretty pussy that’s hiding from me under these?” you nodded. he was asking? for some reason that made your heart flutter.

his hands slid the fabric down your thighs allowing you to step out of them at the end, now left in a little strappy top with your tits spilling out and frilly socks donning your feet, the same colour of your bunny ears. in some way the slight bit of clothing only made the situation hotter.

“just look at you,” it was as if he was talking to himself now, standing up to truly take you in. his touch never left as he admired you, leaving a kiss on your twitching nose as spun you. your thighs now plush against where he himself had been sat, knees touching closed and and arms flailing either side of you. his warmth and smell invading your senses, you could only think of him.

vox’s hands made their way to your knees, rubbing gently, easing your nerves and placing kisses their, “can you spread these for me bun? let me see you?” you looked away in shyness as you parted your legs, slight pressure of vox’s hands forcing them open too, so eager for you. “fuck me,” vox droned out.

“am i pretty enough for you, sir?” you whispered, not daring to make eye contact. beginning to try and close your thighs before vox’s hands could stop you.

“baby, baby, baby, you are the most beautiful thing i’ve ever set my eyes on, don’t you dare go covering up from me, this sight is the only thing i wanna see for the rest of my life.”

your head snapped to look at him, blush creeping up your neck, submitting and letting your legs fall back open

vox was eager, kneeling inbetween your thighs and loitering kisses all along them, eyes never straying from your pussy. “such a cute cunt,” he groaned, reiterating his words with his kisses, “matches those soft tits of yours.” you whined loudly, his words affecting you to the point of desperation.

“keep whining, bunny, it’s not gonna make me go any faster, all it does it’s gets my dick harder.” the way vox said it had you pulling your knees up and spreading further for him, showing him how bad you needed him. “how cute! spreading for me even more, what a good girl, already learning that’s how you should be for me.”

his head inched closer n closer to your cunt, watching the way you’d hump into him, so hopeful for his tongue.

“voxxyyy, are you gonna fuck our little bunny with your tongue or not, even im being teased here, mi vida.” vals voice made you both turn, your gaze now locking onto the man. he was in the corner, in nothing, his wings down, legs spread, hand stroking his cock, precum covering its tip, other hands groping himself, from his balls to his chest. “daddy needs to see their little girl in ruins.”

vox shot a wink to valentino and thrust his tongue inside of you, thumb immediately coming to glide over your clit at the same pace. the action elicited such a pretty high pitched whimper to spill from your lips. the sudden intrusion causing your head to lol back, eyes now glazed with bliss. it was heaven in hell. the long appendage, messy and stretching your tight cunt in a way you’d never experienced, had you fucking yourself back into it, moaning and writhing.

“good giiiirl.”

valentino was about to get the show of a lifetime from his lovers and you were gonna be the main star.

A/N : i love this concept way way way too much hehe <3

[zaynescitizen]

How do you think what could be the kinks of LnDS boys? 😏😏😏

I had fun writing that but oh my god I was STRUGGLING with Xavier, and I had to hold myself back with Sylus because in my eyes he is an absolute whore🎀. For Rafayel and Xavier I think it ended up being quite poorly written but I genuinely couldn't think of anything more than that, so I do apologise.

-Issa

(English is not my first language so there is a high chance of grammar mistakes. If you come across any please point them out and any and all constructive criticism is welcomed)

content warning: NSFW, different kinks and slight descriptions of them (I never know how to write the CW </3 let me know if I should add any specific ones)

Word count: 671

Characters: Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier

Lads and kinks:

In general:

-Starting off I don't feel like any of them have those extreme kinks except maybe Stylus but that is speculating purely off of his card (no defense zone, unfortunately, that is one of two cards 5 star I have of him). I don't think I can genuinely place them from most to least kinky since all of them are on about the same level of it, some a bit more some bit less but overall on the same frequency

Zayne:

-Breast worship, and I will die on this hill. He loves your chest. Coming home after a long day of surgeries he wants nothing more than to play with your breasts or sleep on them. The amount of hickeys he leaves there is abnormal.

-Praise, he loves both giving and receiving paise. Burying his face in your neck while ramming into you, telling you how well you're taking him and how good it feels

-I don't know if this would count as a kink but seeing you ride him makes him near feral, his hands resting on your hips with a tight grip, helping you move over his length.

-Spanking, he loves spanking you as a form of punishment, though he doesn't go overboard and makes sure you are fine with it and are doing alright.

Sylus:

-Accidental stimulation, except it's not accidental and he loves riding you up during auctions he finds boring or when it's least necessary. Seeing you squirm and try to calm down brings him joy and entertainment.

-Sensory deprivation, he loves tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him great ego boost since he takes it as a sign of trust, and the way you react to every touch and kiss makes him lose his mind

-Breathplay, same as the previous, he takes it as a sign of trust and the visual gets him off. Squeezing your throat just enough to make it hard to breathe, but not doing any actual damage

-Begging, another ego boost. The fact that he makes you feel so good that you are begging for him is a dream come true

-Spanking, if you were being bratty he will gladly put you in your place, whether with the palm of his hand or a riding crop

Rafayel:

-This man is a brat and you can't deny it no matter how hard you try.

-Begging, he begs you so sweetly while moving in and out of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses and giving lovebites while trying not to lose it completely

-Bondage, either tying you up or being tied up himself. He loves it.

-Lingerie, he loves seeing you in such pretty yet revealing sad excuses of clothes. He doesn't know whether to take you right then and there or to draw you.

-Temperature play, his evol is fire, he will use that to his advantage and warm you up in all the right place, though for cooling down he will have to use ice cubes

Xavier:

-I think Xavier is the least kinky of them all. After being alive for so long I think he does enjoy more casual vanilla settings, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy something more from time to time

-I genuinely can't think of a single kink for this man, which is disappointing. He has them, but I can't pinpoint which ones.

-One I can definitely see him in is restriction/bondage, holding your arms pinned up against the bed or behind your back while rutting into you like a dog in heat

-Again, not sure if this counts as a kink but he loves giving you oral. He could do it all day, every day, anywhere, everywhere, on every surface, in every position… you get the point. He loves it.

-Cockwarming, sometimes he just wants be be close to you, inside you, but is simply too tired. Especially after a hard mission. Lying in bed with him, filled up and on the verge of falling asleep in his arms

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi!! I have a one shot request (I hope I’m in the right place lmao)

What about a autistic (fem)reader who is super smart and seems to notice things about the case that the others haven’t and every time she tries to state her thoughts a rude sherif cuts her off/infantilising her and Emily defends her

Honestly my brain stopped at the thought of Emily, I need more of her 😔🫶

-anon ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

fem plus size autistic!reader, wc: 517.

a/n: i have had this finished but sitting in my drafts because i was too lazy to post it, but here it is! i hope that i was able to capture what you were looking for right! :] this can either be read as platonic or romantic!

cw! asshole elders :/

You have been spoken over and shut down for the past hour, twenty minutes, and thirty seconds. 

You hated being silenced, but one thing that trumps that was being infantilized. You worked hard to get where you were now, and you hated being treated like a child just because your way of thinking was different from your peers. 

You have saved thousands of people and you’ll be damned if you continue to be treated like this.

“If you look closely, you can see that the area that these women were killed in must hold some kind of sentimental meaning to our unsub.” You grab the black marker and go to draw the inevitable triangle on the printed out map before you’re stopped by the sheriff.

 “Hold it now, sweetheart. Don’t just go markin’ up stuff.”

“I beg your pardon?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sure the area these women were killed in was just pure coincidence, so we don’t wanna risk coloring in the paper just ‘cause you think you know somethin’.” He spoke as if he knew more than you did like he was the one with the degree, his tone absolutely rolling in condescension. 

“I’m sorry but –” You try to say but the old fart cuts you off. “I’m sure you are –”

“Excuse me, sheriff, but I’m afraid Special Agent _______ made a great point.” Emily was quick to come to your aide, emphasizing the words ‘Special Agent’ just to reinforce her point.

You could see it in her narrowed eyes, and everyone else’s really, that she was about done with the Sheriff’s embarrassingly large ego. You send her an appreciative – albeit shy – smile, and she gets up, her eyes trained on the map as well. 

“She’s right, because if you look here,” She points to the first crime scene and motions for you to draw a mark. “And here,” Her finger trails down to the second location and you follow close behind. “And here.” Her path finally ends, and so does your black ink. 

There it was, just like you had first thought, a perfect triangle connecting them all.

“The most important thing should be right –” You finish her words and color in a big circle in the middle. “Here.” Emily sends you a proud look and it threatens to weaken your knees.

“I mean… I suppose that makes sense.” The man grumbled before leaving with his tail between his legs. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly. The conversation was meant to be kept between the two of you. Of course you loved and trusted everyone on your team, but Emily was your comfort person, and she made time to understand you.

“No problem,” She responds back. “Everyone was done with his shit anyway.”

“Still, thank you.” You pressed the conversation, because you don’t really think she realized the gravity of the situation, of your appreciation. 

For most of your life you had never been given a voice, and having someone stick up for you and even paving the way for you to make your point known was something that no gratitude could give.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[celianity]

Movie Night 2.0

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having finished the movie, you and Jordan take care of all that pent-up energy

Warnings: cursing, basically just a whole lot of smut

Word count: 1.332

Author's note: thanks for all the love on Movie Night - here is part 2, I hope you enjoy :) ________________________________________

„Where’s your shit talking mouth now, huh?” Jordan’s voice echoes through the quiet of the hall, drawing you in like a hypnotic spell.

There is still a bit of distance between the two of you because they got a head start, excusing themselves to the bathroom five minutes before the movie credits rolled.

Their absence put you more on edge then you cared to admit.

When Andre and Cate finally left and Marie started cleaning up the aftermath of the watch party, you could feel the tension in your body building.

After the lights went out in your dorm room and you counted to a hundred for good measure, your feet hit the floor again. Marie’s breath was steady, but Emma watched you in the dark with eagle eyes as you tiptoed to the door.

“No glove, no love,” she whispered, scaring you half to death.

You held up your middle finger before disappearing into the hallway, where you’re greeted by a small figure at the end of it.

The exit sign above Jordan’s head illuminates their chin length hair and tints their fitted tank top light green.

Your gaze drinks them in, every alluring curve and dip. Even from the distance you can feel their eyes burning as they watch you approach.

Slowly, they pull their hands out of the pockets of their sweatpants, reaching automatically for your waist as you halt to a stop in front of them.

You dip your head slightly to even out the height difference, breathing in, brushing your noses teasingly. An intoxicating mixture of perfume, adrenalin and foolishness sends your mind spiraling. “Right here, all yours.”

Jordan doesn’t wait a second longer to take you up on that offer, stealing that hitching breath right off your lips. You suppress a moan in the back of your throat at the unexpectedly hard impact.

Their hand snakes up the front of your torso and sweeps along your collarbone until it rests firmly at the side of your neck, splayed fingers applying reassuring pressure. Their thump at the front of your throat makes you fear for your dear innocence. The other hand on your ass doesn’t help either.

Time to turn the tables, then.

You deepen the kiss, letting the pent-up tension roll off your tongue right through their parted lips. Tasting the peppermint tinge of their toothpaste and pressing closer, you wedge one knee in between their legs. Craving more friction, Jordan grinds against the clothing of your silken pajama bottoms and you’re happy to oblige.

Your hands split up.

One brushing along the underside of their left boob before cupping it fully. A sigh escapes Jordan’s lips as you both come up for air and you pinch their nipple between your fingers. The fabric of their tank top is so thin, making it basically invisible to your touch.

Your other hand is stroking up their thigh, playfully undoing the cords of their sweatpants, before slipping past the elastic band of their underwear.

This time, you don’t even try to subdue the groan. “Holy fuck.” Jordan swallows every syllable greedily as their desire wets your fingertips.

Maliciously slow, you push two fingers inside them, curl, retreat, repeat. They arch further into you, intensifying every penetrating movement by practically riding your hand.

The tiny voice in the back of your head reminds you to slow down if you don’t wish to end this soon. However, pushing them over the brink with just your fingers, still fully clothed, is an ego boost you can’t deny.

The assurance of holding their body in the palms of your hands threshes yourself dangerously close to the brink of coming undone right then and there in this fucking hallway.

“Don’t slow down,” they rasp as if hearing your thoughts, biting down on your bottom lip to hold your attention. The grip on your ass tightens.

“We’re just getting started.” You close your mouth around your fingers, savoring their taste on your tongue. “We should move this to your bedroom though because I need you to get naked right about fucking now.”

“You’re so goddamn hot, it makes me hate you sometimes,” Jordan bites out, nodding in agreement.

After planting one last peck on your swollen lips, they guide you by the hand to the nearest door.

Darkness surrounds you, sharpening your senses, highlighting your own desperate needs.

You hear a lock turn before two larger hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against a defined chest. Head turned upwards now; the new flaring up force of the kiss spurring you on. You feel like fighting the current of an ocean all of a sudden.

Those damn sweatpants are doing a terrible job at disguising Jordan’s hard-on, and it drives you crazy.

You clasp one hand around their cutting jaw, deepening the kiss, wanting them to swallow you whole.

The other one glides from their right shoulder over their chest and stomach, picking right up where you left off, enjoying every muscle twitch under your definite touch.

Right before reaching the elastic waistband again, certain fingers wrap around your wrist.

Hot breath fans against your ear, as Jordan whispers, “Your turn, get on the bed.”

The confidence in their tone sends a shiver down your spine, settling right between your legs which are now being pushed apart.

Scattered streaks of moonlight streaming in through the window paint their figure above you in pale light. With a catching breath, you freeze to admire them for a moment.

A smug smile tucks at the corners of their mouth, coming down on yours again after being parted for what feels like an eternity.

Eagerness is pulling the strings now.

You wrap your legs around their waist, guiding them nearer to where you need them the most. Tracing fingers and venturing lips won’t do the trick any longer.

You free them from their tank top to toss it somewhere onto the floor, ruffling their hair in the process, and finally loosen the cords of their sweatpants.

Physically restraining from letting your hand travel farther to encompass their bulge, you sit up instead to get rid of your own clothing, never breaking eye contact.

Jordan takes a quick dive into their bedside table to find a condom before settling onto their side, impatiently waiting to get a hold of your body again.

Briefly, you toy with the idea of putting on a little strip show just to tease them but the hungry glint in their dark eyes teaches you better.

“I want you on all fours,” they say, already moving behind you, warm hands grabbing your hips to pull you back in position. The tip of their hard cock at your soaking entrance turns your mouth into a desert.

“If you wait one second longer, I’m going to kill you,” you pant.

They grant your wish immediately, slamming into you with a force that nearly sends you face-first into the mattress if their splayed hands hadn’t held your torso upright.

These raw groans in the back of their throat zinging right through you, as you move in sync, pushing you over the edge a lot faster than you would have hoped.

Jordan can’t help falling apart at the same time, the view of your moonlit backside and the feel of your body around them being too goddamn much.

You flop down on your belly, content in the silence that follows, not caring about the mess right now. Jordan’s arms wind around your naked form, wrapping you in a full body hug. Their lips on the crown of your head are making you smile into their rising and falling chest.

“Are you staying over?” they ask almost hesitant, voice low and quiet in the dark of the advanced hour.

In response, you press a series of kisses onto their heated skin.

“You won’t get much sleep tonight if you keep on doing that.”

Your open-mouthed grin is a dagger in the diffuse light of the room. “I’m counting on it.”

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations No.13

-just my opinions, please take them with a grain of salt !

-Libras tend to only give significant attention to people they think are beautiful/pretty. (So if a libra man is messing around in your dms, you at least know you’re pretty! Lol) Subtly I’ve noticed that Taurus placements tend to do this as well? Like, they don’t write off people in the way some Libras do but I haven’t seen someone with Taurus in the big 6 dating someone that isn’t attractive or at least aesthetically pleasing.

-Stellium in 3rd/ mars in 3rd/ Gemini Mars and Stellium in 6th/ mars in 6th/ Virgo Mars: do you find yourself multitasking all the time? I find that multitasking helps me finish tasks faster 9 times out of 10. Like I need to have my attention in a few places at once to be efficient. (I love podcasts and drawing)

-Neptune conjunct moon, Pisces moon, moon in 12th: you have really deep intuition but not much clarity that comes with it. Like I had this like intense instinct go off that i was going to run into something one I cut off last year- and I was right! But only halfway lol, totally different dude than I expected lol. It’s like shaking a magic 8 ball, you’ve got an answer but not the answer lol.

-I agree that your moon sign shows the most of your true personality, especially as you get past like 25. But with sun conjunct moon I’ve had a tricky time spotting this. I think it’s clearest with Aries and Aquarius moons for me. Aries moons have so much energy and they grow into being real leaders as they get older, and Aquarius moons have real stand out opinions and tend to live in their uniqueness more and attempt to conform less as they get older.

-Mercury in 3rd or Gemini or natal retrograde can mean you’re incapable of writing short little text messages lol. You either write a paragraph or send a lot of little texts successively.

-I find that Venus/Libra dominant people can be very charming in public and really judgmental in private/anonymously. They don’t want their opinions to clash with their pleasing persona.

-Scorpio sun + Sagittarius moon/ Sagittarius sun + Scorpio Moon doesn’t mean you have to be wild but oml they’ve been some of the most extreme people I’ve ever met. I feel like these people are always bringing BIG energy into the room and changing things around them with that Jupiter/Pluto double whammy. (I have stories about every person I’ve known with those placements but my go to is an aunt that had a boyfriend that bought her a car and a dog and she crashed the car, abandoned the dog with my grandma, and broke up with the guy. He’s doing better now lol.)

-But on the flip side, Capricorn placements can bring in Saturn type changes and lesson to any environment they come into. I have a stellium so it’s hard for me to separate all the categories where I’ve seen places fall apart (usually work places and bad bosses but it applies to everyone)

But for sun- people get insecure and start acting from a place of ego, moon- emotional tension gets tested and people are more likely to react from petty places, Mercury- communication and technology that was patched together falls through in the weak places and systems get overwhelmed; Jupiter- Luck runs out for those that are flying by the seat of their pants and don’t really know what they’re doing; Neptune- no more delusions are allowed, lies and duplicity are exposed

And after I’ve left those places and their dysfunction behind it seems like the lessons continue on even more. I’m not sure why the effect lingers, except that Saturn will make you learn or punish you.

[writingpastmybedtime]

Cinderella AU

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Summary: The classic Cinderella AU. It's heavily inspired by the Disney live-action remake, but with a few tweaks here and there.

Word Count: 8k, oops..?

Warnings: None, except for extra cute Prince Sebastian.

A/N: It’s my first time writing for Seb at this length & I'm kind of proud of how it turned out. Oh, and I gave Sebastian the nickname 'Bash'. Hope you love it as much as I do!<3

Once upon a time, or however the story begins, there lived a girl named Y/N. She was the most beautiful thing in her parents’ eyes and held the kindest heart. They lived happily in a secluded small mansion. They weren’t the richest per se, but they could keep up with the house and even had a few workers in the kitchen and garden. 

As time went by, the girl discovered a passion for music and playing the piano. Her sweet melodies often graced the halls of the house, and whenever she wasn’t behind the piano, she had her face buried deep in a journal, writing down every last thought that had occurred to her that day.

Alas, the time that had passed had also come bearing sombre news. The little girl’s mother had fallen ill with a disease so rare, there was nothing left to do but wait. Those three months spent waiting were the hardest for the girl, as she was always staying beside her mother’s bed, reading to her, brushing her hair, and playing lovely tunes on the piano to soothe her mother’s mind. 

It wasn’t until one night, that the clock in the writing room, which her mother so deeply loved, stopped working and the house suddenly grew more quiet.

Years passed, and Y/N grew even more beautiful. She was always happy and kind, helping out everyone around the house and being there for her father. Y/N’s father was a merchant, so it was not uncommon that he had many trips abroad and many foreign friends. He had a certain way with him, his friends even called him a man of many words. He always found a way to insert an inspirational quote into whatever conversation was going on. His personal favourite, however, was a quote about courage. 

Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

“Darling, would you accompany me to the garden?” Her father asked her. Of course, she followed him with a smile on her face. He began to tell her of a widowed woman, with two daughters just a few years older than Y/N. He explained that he’d known the woman's late husband, having met him many times on his travels. 

“They need a place to stay and they need a sense of security,” he began shyly, before continuing. “I think I can offer them that, I think we can offer them that.”

Y/N smiled as she took her father's hands in hers. “Father, if it’s something that would make you happy, it would make me even happier.” He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

Madam Deveraux was a widowed noblewoman with two daughters, Arabella and Isadora. The Madam herself was mostly reserved and you could never tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. Her gaze always remained strong, even when the death of her dear husband crushed her spirit. As months passed after the tragic death, the demeanour of Madam Deveraux changed. Once just a composed and modest lady, was now hardened at heart, with only one true goal. To see her two daughters succeed and be wed off to rich husbands, no matter the cost.

Arabella, the eldest daughter was certainly pretty on the eyes, however, she had a mouth to her that diminished her beauty to a certain degree. Never afraid to speak her mind and even once in a while throw in a more vulgar term here or there. She was fascinated with all kinds of different adult romance books - that’s where she probably learned those indecent phrases. She also loved to draw, but truth be told, she wasn’t really any good at it.

Isadora, like her sister, was also beautiful in her own way. She certainly wasn’t as crude as her sister, but still had a peculiar sense of self. Her ego was probably the biggest between the three of them. Every reflective surface she saw made her gaze at herself longingly, always fixing her hair or makeup. Always whispering sweet affirmations to herself. She knew she was the prettiest person, whenever she walked into a crowded room. Even if the snobby personality sometimes made her mother’s eyes roll.

After a few weeks, it was time again for Y/N’s father to take his leave. Y/N felt crushed, and a sense of dread filled her heart, making her father promise that he’d return.

Unfortunately, on his travels back from overseas, Y/N’s father fell ill and was never able to return to her. It saddened her deeply, but due to her chores, given to her by her step-mother, she didn’t have time to dwell on her grief. 

Months passed, with her chores growing bigger and bigger. She had given up her bedroom because Arabella and Isadora were too cramped up in their own smaller one. Unfortunately for Y/N, instead of getting the smaller room for herself, she had to stay in a storage room right next to the kitchen. It wasn’t the most tedious place to be, for someone somewhere must’ve had to have even worse living conditions. That thought kept her appreciating her commodities and trying to tidy up the tiny storage room as best as she could.

“Y/N, could you be a dear and help your sisters with their dresses?” Madam Deveraux’s cold voice could be heard from upstairs, as Y/N was just finishing up setting the table in the kitchen. Sighing, but still with a smile on her face, the girl walked upstairs to assist her step-sisters. Arabella was tugging Isadora’s corset, to make it more tight, as Isadora was standing near the mirror letting out gasps of air. 

“A little bit of help, please?” Isadora asked in her saccharine voice, looking at Y/N through her mirror. Y/N nodded and took over from Arabella, pulling and pulling until the corset was perfectly on Isadora’s body. 

“Hmm, I look good, don’t you think so?” Isadora spun around, now in her huge pink sparkling dress, which did not do her beauty any justice. Y/N, however, was not one to judge. She just smiled lightly and nodded. 

“Pfft, as if you had any sense of style,” Isadora went to grab her rings, before putting them on her dainty fingers. Her brown hair was curled in an updo and she had put on a plethora of perfume, that was way too sweet, but ironically, fit her perfectly.

“Hah, you’re right sissy, this wench does not know anything about fashion. I mean look at how she’s dressed right now.” Arabella looked at Y/N from head to toe, her face grimacing. Y/N lowered her head to look at her grey dress. Yes, it wasn’t as fancy as the gowns on her step-sisters, but it had belonged to her mother. The grey dress made her feel some kind of sanity, running around doing chores for the Deverauxs’. Picking invisible lint from the pocket of her skirt, the step-sisters just laughed at how humiliated Y/N looked.

“Yes, you do look absolutely atrocious as of late,” Isadora smirked as Arabella grinned, taking joy in embarrassing Y/N. “You’re just plain ugly,” the eldest sister managed to get out before laughing.

“Here, take this, go buy yourself something prettier,” Isadora scoffed as she handed Y/N three silver pieces. You could not get anything fairly pretty with that kind of sum. Y/N had given up on pretty dresses a while ago, being content with the ones her mother had left her. She shook her head at the silver coins, not accepting the pity donation. 

“Fine have it your way, I was just trying to be nice,” Isadora threw the silver pieces on the floor as Arabella snorted in an unladylike manner. “Now leave, as I remember correctly Mama wanted you to go down to the forest to pick up some flowers for the gathering tonight.”

Y/N nodded to the girls, before hastily leaving the room, blinking back tears. She had grown accustomed to their derogatory comments, but that didn’t mean a part of her always ached at their remarks. Never had she been anything, but good and friendly towards the girls and their mother. She shook her head, as if to shake it clear from the depressing thoughts and picked up a dark-brown wooden basket from the kitchen table.

The walk from the house to the forest was always Y/N’s favourite. As soon as the house with the hectic people inside of it disappeared from her field of view, a certain kind of calmness filled Y/N. It was as if she could finally breathe without restrictions. Even the world around her seemed a little bit more saturated. Birds were flying around, singing their beautiful songs; it was spring after all. Y/N started to hum a melody she used to love to play the most on her piano.

Y/N twirled around and smiled, suddenly feeling joyous and elated. She closed her eyes, still twirling, liking the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. A total bliss. Suddenly, when taking her last twirl, she felt her foot get stuck on a tree root and braced herself for a fall.

However, the fall did not come. 

Instead, strong hands had grasped her waist, holding her a few centimetres off the ground. Y/N finally opened her eyes, the sun making her squint a little before finally her vision was back in focus. She was looking into blue eyes. Into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Serene, deep blue eyes, that she could get lost in. That she did get lost in.

“Miss, are you alright?” Y/N blinked, before realising the man was still holding her. She stumbled to get out of his grasp, before wiping her dress from invisible dirt. Her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you..?” Y/N said, waiting for the person’s name to finish her sentence. To thank him personally. She now had time to look at the man that had so gracefully caught her. He had brown medium-length hair, which seemed abnormally soft and Y/N wished she could tread her fingers through it. The man smiled, no grinned rather, and Y/N was taken aback by how handsome this stranger looked.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The man chuckled and Y/N shook her head quizzically. Was she supposed to know him? She browsed through her brain, wondering who this man could be; maybe she’d met him before. But no, she’d remember him. She could never forget those eyes.

Y/N saw a peculiar look in his gaze before his grin grew even bigger and he introduced himself. “My name’s Bash,” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brows, but smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s a peculiar name,” she spoke, before realising her comment was nowhere near acceptable nor did it come off as friendly. The man, Bash, as she’d learned, let out a genuine laugh at the comment. Y/N felt embarrassed and was about to apologise before he stopped her.

“I like your candour,” he smirked. “It’s actually a nickname. A name that my father calls me whenever I haven’t done anything to upset him.” Y/N smiled, no longer feeling embarrassed, but just a little bit of something else. A strange warm feeling was creeping up in her chest. 

“Well, thank you, Bash, for catching me. And I’m sorry you even had to, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s no problem, besides, what even is a beautiful girl like you doing out in these woods anyway?” Bash asked, not being able to take his eyes off Y/N. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And ‘beautiful’ was not even enough to describe her. 

“Oh, I’m just on my way to get flowers for a party later on. Which does remind me, that I should be on my way,” Y/N looked down at her basket, which she hadn’t fortunately dropped, when she had stumbled. Realisation hit her then, that he’d called her beautiful, but she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d heard wrong?

“Do you work nearby?” Bash asked, his eyes still admiring her own. He did not want to leave her this soon after just meeting. But her duty called and truth be told, so did his. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here. He was out riding with his horse when suddenly he heard the most beautiful voice humming somewhere nearby. Having left his horse a few metres behind, was when he finally saw her. She was twirling and twirling and completely not noticing the tree root that was about to make her fall on the next twirl. Thankfully, he was fast and had caught her on time. 

“Yes, I do. Are you from around here as well?” Y/N asked politely. Knowing that she should be going now, but his eyes were just too mesmerising, to not look away from, that she stayed grounded.

“I actually work at the castle,” he said, his eyes turning pink as if he was embarrassed about the notion. Y/N smiled at that. “Must be nice,” she thought out loud, as Bash just shook his head at her comment.

“Depending on the day, it can be a little bit too much sometimes.” Y/N nodded at that, trying to understand what it must be like working amidst hundreds of people. Working for royalty.

“Well, it’s like my father always taught me,” she began as she gave him the sweetest smile. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” Bash raised his eyebrow at that. “And do you feel like that?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you feel seen?” He inquired, and Y/N shrugged. The question was raw - she hadn’t expected that. Did she feel seen? No, not as of late. But she couldn’t tell him that, now could she? She noticed the sun had turned just a tiny bit more golden and felt fear rush through her. She was supposed to be making supper for the Deverauxs and their guests.

“Look, it’s been wonderful having this chat with you, but I really must take my leave,” she nodded to him, taking her basket and turning around, completely forgetting about the flowers. 

Bash felt a tinge of sadness in him, before nodding and giving her a final smile. “Well, it was wonderful making your acquaintance. I hope to see you again someday.” Y/N turned around at his voice. She nodded, grinning at him.

“So do I.”

“Soon,” Bash said and saw Y/N blush, before finally taking her leave. 

She found some wild poppies just behind the house and hoped they’d do. Fortunately, Madam Deveraux only gave her a quizzical look, before dismissing her. She took a breath, thanking the gods that her step-mother did not freak out over the flower arrangement. All evening as she was making supper for everyone, her thoughts went back to the kind stranger she’d met. 

Bash.

Y/N was browsing through the city fair, currently looking at new books she wished she could buy when suddenly a horn was heard above in the upper city. She glanced up from the booth towards the sound, seeing everyone gathering around.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a man in a formal outfit began. Behind him stood many other men, dressed the same.

These were men from the castle, she concluded. Her thoughts went to Bash for a second, before focusing back on the man giving out the information.

“As requested by His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian, there is to be a ball, for two weeks hence, in honour of him choosing a bride. As per his wishes, the ball is open to everyone in the country.”

Squeals and cheers were coming from every corner of the city at the news. Y/N suddenly felt very happy. Maybe this was her chance to see Bash again in the castle, after all, he did say he worked there.

Having made her way back home, she rushed to Madam Deveraux, who was sitting in the living room with Arabella and Isadora. The latter was playing the piano. Correction, trying to play, for Y/N, did not know it was possible to make that kind of noise on the delicate instrument.

“What has gotten you in a rush? Your dress is all dirty again,” Arabella scrunched her face, clearly disgusted by Y/N’s clothing once again.

“I was just in the city when they announced there is to be a ball in two weeks as the Prince is to finally choose a bride. It’s open to everyone.” She smiled as she saw Madam Deveraux jump up from the couch, her daughters following her. Suddenly they screamed and the two girls jumped around.

“I’m going to be the new princess,” Isadora squealed before Arabella nudged her on the shoulder.

“No, I am!” Arabella insisted before Madam Deveraux made them quiet down.

“Y/N, you have to go into town and get three beautiful dresses,” Madam Deveraux smiled at her, a new prosperous future in mind for her daughters. She knew they had to look their best to catch the eye of the Prince.

“Yes, yes I will. Thank you for letting me come with you.” Y/N said as she was about to leave back to the city, her mind joyous and excited. Madam Deveraux had finally accepted her as part of the family and she got to go to the ball as well.

“Come with us?” Madam Deveraux scoffed and raised her eyebrow. “Why in the seven hells do you think you’re coming with us?”

Y/N started to say something before she was rudely cut off.

“Nuh, uh-uh.” Madam Deveraux pointed her finger at Y/N. “You do not belong at events like these. You will not go, I forbid you.” 

Y/N felt tears in her eyes, not understanding why she was being so mean to her. 

“Oh, Mama, look. You’ve made the duckling cry.” Arabella snickered and Isadora laughed.

“But why? All I’ve ever done is be nice to you. I do all these chores, you ask of me, and more.” Y/N started shaking but was reluctant to let out real tears. They cannot see me cry, she thought to herself.

“Have you ever considered that you’re maybe just not enough? Not enough pretty, not enough smart,” Madam Deveraux took steps toward Y/N, placing a finger under her jaw, pulling Y/N to look at her. “You’re no one.” Madam Deveraux turned away, before muttering instructions that Y/N was to buy dresses for the three of them the following day.

TWO WEEKS LATER

After helping the Deveraux sisters into their beautiful ball gowns and doing their hair, Y/N watched them leave in a big beige carriage. Letting her shoulders shrug, she finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. Y/N had hoped to visit the ball as well, hoping to see the blue-eyed man who had taken over her thoughts.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her and her name being called, before turning around and seeing Anastasia, an older lady that she’d known all of her life. Anastasia was a neighbour, a lovely woman, who always took care of Y/N whenever it was needed. Anastasia did not like the way Madam Deveraux had started treating Y/N after her father died and even offered to let Y/N move in with her. However, Y/N always passed the opportunity down, saying that she made a promise to her mother and father to look after the house.

“My dear,” Anastasia came closer, taking Y/N’s hand and seeing the tear trails on her face. “Why are you not at the ball? Everyone’s invited.” 

Y/N shook her head, before explaining that Madam Deveraux had forbidden her to attend the event. Anastasia pursed her lips, before muttering, more to herself than to Y/N.

“This will not do,” then louder, “this will not do at all.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards her house which was just a few minutes further away. “You will go to the ball, end of story.”

“But how? I have no horse to take me, let alone a carriage. Nor do I have a dress that is suitable for this kind of event.” Y/N saw Anastasia grin, before ushering her faster towards her house.

“Have courage, dear one. I will make sure you get everything.”

And just as Anastasia said, Y/N had it all. Anastasia was a well-endowed lady, who did not have the joy of getting to raise a daughter of her own. No, she was instead blessed with three sons. So it was mere luck, and perhaps a little bit of something else, that Anastasia had a beautiful periwinkle blue dress in her closet waiting to be worn. It fit Y/N perfectly as if it was made only for her to wear.

Anastasia did Y/N’s hair next, whilst explaining that she’d already talked with her personal chauffeur, who was to take Y/N to the ball. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lady Anastasia,” Y/N had tears in her eyes, although this time they were there for another reason. Gratitude.

“Oh, stop it, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to not call me that, it makes me feel old,” she grimaced, before helping Y/N into the carriage. As Y/N took a step, Anastasia saw her shoes, which looked worn out and definitely didn't go along with the dress. She muttered something under her breath, before looking at Y/N again.

“There’s something in a box inside the carriage. Make use of them. And make sure to dance.” Y/N furrowed her brows, trying to understand, before she took her seat and felt the carriage take off slowly. “But wait, what about Madam Deveraux and the step-sisters? Won’t they recognize me?” Y/N asked worriedly, looking back at the kind woman.

“Oh, don’t worry about something so trivial, my dear, it’s already been taken care of,” Anastasia winked, before remembering, “and before I forget, try to return at midnight. I cannot explain why, but it’s imperative that you do so. You have to be back when the clock strikes twelve.” With a smile, Anastasia stayed behind, waving at Y/N. 

Y/N was a bit confused, even more so when she opened the box that was on the seat in front of her. Beautiful shoes, made out of iridescent glass, were inside the box. She gasped when she took one in her hand, not even feeling the weight of it, expecting it to be heavier. She slipped off her slippers, before trying on the glass shoes. 

They fit perfectly. As if these shoes, just like the dress, were made just for her. Maybe Anastasia was a witch? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe she was her Fairy Godmother. Y/N chuckled at the silly idea of magic but still felt curious about the predicament she was in.

Y/N didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whereabouts of her dress and shoes before she saw the castle in front of her. Only a few minutes separated her from the majestic building.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she whispered to herself, looking longingly at the castle ahead.

The castle itself was beautiful. Y/N had never seen a building so marvellous in her life. Taking slow steps through the garden in front of the castle, she was in awe. Twirling around and trying to take it all in. The castle inside was just about the same. Mesmerising to the point of Y/N being left speechless. She imagined what it’d be like to live here. So in contrast to her current living conditions.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a huge door, with two guards standing on each side of it. This must be the ballroom, she figured. She gave a nod and a curtsy to the guards before they nodded in return and opened the doors.

She heard the buzz of the voices first, before walking towards the balcony that was connected to the ground floor of the ballroom. About a hundred and fifty other people were mingling downstairs, not counting the guards and other workers. 

She began to make her descent down the marvellous staircase, walking slowly, as if not to ruin the dress and not to stumble on her feet. She felt anxious, before reminding herself of her father's wise words again.

It was then that Bash saw her, from across the room. He’d been waiting for her for hours now. Hoping that she’d grace the castle with her beauty. And what a beauty she was, indeed. He was left bewildered when he saw her. She looked otherworldly.

She looked ethereal.

As if they were magnets, he felt an invisible string pull him towards her. He apologised to the princess currently in front of him and nodded to his father, before taking his leave and stepping onto the dance floor. 

Y/N had just reached the last step when she noticed the crowd parting and giving her way. At the end of the tunnel of people, she saw him.

It was him, it was truly him.

Bash.

And oh, the way he looked at Y/N. As if she’d hung the stars in the sky. 

He grinned when he was finally near enough to notice the sparkling eyeshadow on her eyelids and the pink tone of her lips. 

“Wow, just wow,” Bash let out, scratching the back of his head. A habit of his, whenever he was nervous. “I’m speechless, really.” Bash said, before taking Y/N’s hand and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. Y/N blushed heavily, still not having noticed the ballroom growing quiet. All she saw was him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, with small gold intricate details, that made him look regal. It was then, Y/N realised, he was probably not just a mere worker in a castle.

“Would you allow me this dance?” He said as he stood up straight again. Y/N nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He took her hand gently on his, placing his other on her waist. The pull between them only grew, the magnetic feel forcing them to be as close as possible.

And then they danced. He was a wonderful leader, and fortunately for Y/N, she was not so bad herself on a dancefloor, having taken dance lessons in her youth. The pair only had eyes for each other, completely ignoring the looks they were getting all over the ballroom. Some were jealous, some were elated, and some were more than angry with the outcome happening right now.

Y/N grinned as Bash twirled her not once, but twice, and then made her fall into his arms. The song ended and they were both out of breath. Y/N felt Bash put a strand of hair behind her ear, looking longingly into her eyes. He leaned in, before closing his eyes and stopping himself.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Y/N nodded as he led her away from the dancefloor to the confines of a secluded room filled with high bookshelves. There were rows and rows of books. Y/N twirled around, taking it all in. She’d never seen bookshelves this high before.

They were in a library. 

Sebastian noticed how Y/N smiled in awe as she took it all in. He just had a feeling she would like it.

“You didn’t tell me you were a prince, Prince Sebastian,” Y/N said when she turned around from admiring the thousands of books gracing the shelves. Bash chuckled.

“I told you I worked at the castle. Which is true,” Y/N narrowed her eyes before smiling. 

“I just didn’t specify,” Bash said, a finality in his tone. Y/N then saw him truly as he was, as a future king. 

A kind future king, she acknowledged. 

“True,” she took another longing look at the bookshelves before something else caught her eye on the other side of the room.

There was a black grand piano, waiting to be played. Almost calling her name as she took steps towards it. Bash saw what her eyes had fixed on, a grin growing on his face.

“Do you play?” He asked as Y/N let her fingers slide tenderly across the black-and-white keys. 

“I used to,” Y/N said honestly, still gazing longingly at the beautiful instrument in front of her. “I haven’t in a while, not since my father passed.” Bash looked at her sorrowfully, before whispering his condolences.

Sebastian took a seat in front of the piano, patting the place next to him. Y/N blushed before she obliged. 

She watched Sebastian place his hands on the piano, pressing a few keys, which made the sweetest tune. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself when she heard him continue. Suddenly the sound stopped and she opened her eyes to come face to face with Bash.

“Your turn,” he whispered, his face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her face. She blushed but shook her head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, really.”

“You should, really.”

“I will.” She said finally, seeing Sebastian grin before she placed her trembling hands on the keys.

She took a breath before letting her hands take over, the notes she played were familiar to her, never forgotten. Even if she hadn’t played them in so long. She let herself be carried by the tune, until at some point, there was a dialogue.

Sebastian had accompanied her on the piano, he was playing on his side, giving supporting yet beautiful notes to the ones she played. Y/N was enthralled and totally mesmerised by the music. 

So was he. Before today, Sebastian was sure Y/N could not surprise him anymore. She was already perfect enough. But here she was, letting out a precious and delicate part of herself that not many could see. She trusted him. And he appreciated it more than Y/N could ever imagine.

Later on in their life, Bash would tell Y/N that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

As with all good things in life, the song came to an end, and Y/N removed her hands from the keyboard to her lap. Fidgeting with her fingers, as if suddenly ashamed of letting someone see her so bare.

Sebastian placed two fingers underneath her jaw, making Y/N look at him. Her eyes were so vulnerable, that he wanted to fix everything in her life. Not knowing anything about her, but vowing to himself that he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was happy at all times.

Their faces were close again, just one small nudge, and he could feel her lips on his. Y/N saw as Bash’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, hers following the action. They were so–so close. Sebastian nudged Y/N’s nose with his own as if asking for permission. Y/N closed her eyes and grinned, him doing the same, and just as their lips were about to meet, Y/N heard the clock strike. 

Her eyes flew wide open and she pulled away. Looking at the clock behind them, she realised she was running out of time.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Y/N said apologetically, coming to stand. Bash followed immediately, wanting to grasp her arm, but not wanting to overstep.

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful and I’ve had the time of my life, truly.” She started walking away, fast. Sebastian was bewildered, not understanding what went wrong.

“Why are you in a hurry?” He asked, giving her a smile to try to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“It’s hard to explain, I don’t even understand it myself. But I made a promise,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Bash was trailing behind her; they still weren’t out of the confines of the library. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Then promise me, we will meet again,” Sebastian told her, as he saw her quicken the pace. She was at the door now. The door that connected to the ballroom. The door that would bring them back to reality. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, grinning at him the way she’d never before when she finally whispered so only he could hear.

“Goodbye, Prince Sebastian.”

She took off and Sebastian followed. He felt his pulse quicken in his chest, for he had been so close to telling her that he’d chosen her as his bride. 

And she’d used his full name. Not the nickname he’d given her.

Bash felt dread creep up on him. This wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And that’s when he realised he didn’t know her name. All this time together, and he had forgotten to ask the simplest of questions. 

She had passed the ballroom now and Sebastian tried his hardest to catch up. With his luck, though, what with being the prince and all, he wasn’t so quick. Girls touched him and pulled him into them, everyone trying to score a chance at a dance with the Prince Sebastian. 

Sebastian muttered countless apologies, before finally getting free of the wandering hands and quickening his pace towards her.

Y/N tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she stumbled and one of her glass shoes had fallen off. She looked behind herself and saw Bash following her, even if he was a bit farther behind. She did not have time to go back for the shoe, trying to get the other one off her foot, while still running.

She finally made her way to her carriage, letting it drive away. In her last glance towards the castle, she saw Bash picking up her glass shoe, holding it to his chest, and looking longingly towards the carriage. She blinked and felt moisture on her cheeks. She was devastated by leaving him, but he was a prince. He was the Prince Sebastian and she was just a commoner. A maid, if she could be called even that as of late. However, the feeling was bittersweet, as she’d have memories of this night to remind herself for the years to come.

The way his hands had felt, the way he had looked at her, the way his breath had made goosebumps on her skin when his nose brushed against hers.

The carriage dropped her off at her house, and she hastily made her way into her small room. As she changed into her other dress, the grey one that was her mother's, she noticed that her periwinkle dress was gone. She had just hung it up in her closet, but it was nowhere. She looked again and again, pulling out every other dress in her closet, but nothing.

It was as if it was never even there.

All that remained, which reminded her of the evening spent with the Prince, were her memories and the small glass shoe on the ground in her closet. Reminders, that she hadn’t imagined her time in the castle and that it had been real.

It was quiet until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Annoyed voices.

“I cannot believe, we didn’t get to dance with the Prince,” Isadora said grumpily, sitting down at the dining room table with a disappointed look. “All because of that stupid girl in that pretty dress.”

“At least I touched him,” Arabella closed her eyes, trying to remember the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers. “He was so firm,” Arabella continued to daydream and took a seat next to her sister. Madam Deveraux was the last to arrive in the room, taking note of Y/N and how bubbly she suddenly looked.

She had a certain spring in her step, when she finally brought the food on the table, for them to eat. Madam Deveraux raised her eyebrow, eyeing Y/N thoroughly, but not saying a word. She thought Y/N would be more devastated at not having had the opportunity to attend the ball.

Something was going on. And she did not like it one bit.

Y/N spent the rest of her evening writing everything down in her diary. She wrote of every minute spent in the castle and her time with the Prince. Mostly, she wrote of the Prince.

It was a month after the ball when Y/N went to her room to check her closet. She had a peculiar feeling in her chest as if something were amiss. Her diary had been exactly where she’d left it, but to her surprise the glass shoe was missing. Y/N looked around her closet, but it was nowhere in sight.

“Are you looking for this?” She heard the cold voice of Madam Deveraux from the doorstep, before looking at her quizzically. “It’s a wonderful little thing, isn’t it.” Madam Deveraux said, looking at the shoe in her hand and then at Y/N. “Do you even know that there’s a countrywide search for whoever wore these shoes to the ball?”

Y/N was surprised, for she did not know the Prince was looking for her. Mostly because she hadn’t even been out of the house these previous weeks. Madam Deveraux had been giving her more chores than she could manage and now she figured out why.

“I won’t even begin to ask where you acquired such a thing, for I simply do not care.” Madam Deveraux hit the glass shoe on the wall next to her, making Y/N gasp and let out a weak ‘no’.

Madam Deveraux smirked, taking pleasure in Y/N’s sorrowful state. “It’s only a matter of time before they knock on our door. And you will not be a part of this household when they ask. It’s only me, Arabella and Isadora.” She grinned darkly, looking at Y/N sitting on the floor, tears in her eyes. 

“Do you understand? Do you now, finally, understand that sometimes a person of your stature is just not enough?” Y/N whimpered as Madam Deveraux closed the door of her room, locking it behind her.

Y/N looked around herself, she had approximately enough food in her room to last her a few days, but she had finally accepted her fate. She would never see Bash again.

It was the afternoon of the next day when Madam Deveraux heard knocking on her door. She placed on her most pleasant smile and opened the door wide, to be met with the new King’s chancellor. 

“Hello, we are here on behalf of His Majesty the King, to try to find his beloved. Are there any ladies in your household, to whom this shoe might belong?” The man in a dark blue suit asked, showing Madam Deveraux the glass shoe she was all familiar with.

Madam Deveraux was thrilled. She had ordered her daughters to lotion their feet daily and to try to squish them into smaller shoes, for she had to be sure that one of them would find their place near the King. 

Arabella was first, as was expected of the eldest daughter. She let out a bunch of profanities while trying on the shoe, pushing and pulling the glass to try to fit into it. “One more time,” she said, her face completely red from the puffing and huffing.

“Oh, give up already,” Isaroda said, whilst nudging her sister, making her fall and catching the shoe in her hand.

As expected, it didn’t fit her either.

Madam Deveraux was absolutely annoyed with her daughters, completely disappointed in their incompetence.

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Madam Deveraux,” the chancellor said, as he was stepping out of the house. Just as he was about to get back on his horse, there was humming to be heard.

The loveliest voice was humming a tune somewhere in the house. Madam Deveraux’s eyes shot up, trying to close the door behind her.

The chancellor raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else in the house with you?” 

Madam Deveraux smiled smugly, however slightly shaken with the idea of the kingsmen hearing Y/N’s humming. She shook her head.

“No, there is no one, but me and my two daughters.”

“You’re lying,” said a strong voice, as a man jumped off his horse. He removed his hood, and everyone gasped.

It was Prince Sebastian. No, he was King Sebastian now. His father had fallen ill and given Sebastian the throne early.

Madam Deveraux was flabbergasted and immediately curtsied. “M-my prin-King, My King, I had no idea, you’d be here.” 

Sebastian took a few steps forward, still hearing the tune of Y/N’s humming. He knew it was her. It was the same song they’d played on the piano together. 

Sebastian looked at his chancellor, nodding towards the house. “Want to check it out, or should I?”

His chancellor, his best friend, smirked when he saw the glint in Sebastian’s eye. “Go ahead, Your Majesty.” Sebastian grinned before fastening his pace and entering the house. He followed the humming to the small door near the kitchen.

Sebastian saw that the door was locked, so with one, really-really strong pull he tore the lock off the door and exhaled before opening the door.

Y/N had no idea what was going on. She had been trying to calm herself ever since Madam Deveraux had locked her in this room. So when she heard noises coming behind the door, she had expected the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, were the kind eyes of Bash.

Sebastian faltered, his steps coming to a stop. There she stood. His beloved. His Queen. He furrowed his brows as he took in her commodities. The way she was dressed. The way her eyes were red-rimmed - an indication that she had been crying. 

She had been locked up.

Everything suddenly made sense to him and he wasted no time in hurrying towards Y/N and pulling her to him. Hugging her so close to him, finally, finally, feeling her in his arms.

“Bash,” She let out weakly and Sebastian just shushed her, placing his head on hers. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to push herself away from him, afraid to get even more hurt. She had felt enough disappointment and grief in her life to experience it again. And grief she would feel if she lost Bash too. So it was easier to push him away before her feelings got too strong. Although, deep down, she knew there was already no turning back. She had fallen for him. Deeply.

But Sebastian wouldn’t budge, he was only grinning more widely when he realised that Y/N, the one he was looking for, was safely in his arms.

“Do you know that I have a countrywide search put out for you?” He asked casually, not even minding that she was trying to break free of his hold. Letting his fingers run through her hair, silently comforting her.

“Bash, have you even realised who I am?” Y/N looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I'm a nobody. A maid at best. I have no prospects, no dowry. I am not someone you want next to you to rule a kingdom.”

Sebastian laughed at that, pulling the smaller one closer to his chest, letting his head fall on her own again. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling,” He inhaled her scent before placing a kiss on her head.

“You’re strong, you’re honest. Your heart is made of gold. You’re the only person I want to share the throne with.”

She finally looked up into his eyes, to see the most sincere gaze ever directed towards her.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to give me a shoe to try on then? Or have I heard wrong?” She finally retaliated and he chuckled at that.

“Fair enough,” he said before slowly kneeling in front of Y/N.

She looked at him, Prince Sebastian, no, King Sebastian now, on one knee, holding up a glass shoe.

Her glass shoe.

“May I?” Bash cheekily said, before Y/N blushed, and pulled up her skirt just a bit to give Sebastian her leg.

Bash placed her foot in the shoe, and as a surprise to neither of them, it fit her perfectly. His eyes found hers instantly, a strong, confident look in his gaze.

“Can I now, finally, know your name?”

She laughed at that, a tear escaping her eye as she finally began to realise that her old life was coming to an end.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she said as Sebastian’s eyes glossed over as well.

“Y/N,” Bash tried the name out on his tongue, and he liked how it sounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at Y/N again with a new determination in his face.

“Y/N, would you please do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth? I promise to give everything in me to make you happy. To keep you safe. Please, just please, end my misery and come back to the castle with me. As my equal. As my Queen.”

Y/N fell on her knees in front of Bash, her tears falling on her cheeks, although she did not care for them at that moment. All she saw was Sebastian’s face near her as she started to nod and laugh.

“Yes?” Bash looked at Y/N with a hopeful gaze, placing his hands on either side of her face, and pulling her towards him.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling Bash’s forehead on her own.

“Yes.” 

Time stopped then.

Sebastian pulled Y/N closer to himself and finally connected their lips. Magical was not even the word to begin to describe how it felt like. They were made for each other, of that, were they both certain. Y/N had never experienced anything like this before. His lips were so smooth and soft on her own that she let out a whimper. Bash smiled at that and Y/N followed. 

They both pulled away, grinning at each other.

“I love you,” Bash said, caressing Y/N’s face with his right hand.

“I love you,” Y/N said before Bash connected their lips again.

It was no surprise that the wedding of Y/N and Sebastian happened only a week after their first kiss. Y/N had moved into the castle immediately after Sebastian had caught her locked up in the storage room. Madam Deveraux was put to trial, for treating Y/N the way she had. Arabella and Isadora, although crude in their temper, were pardoned, but made to leave the country, effective immediately. 

As for Y/N and Sebastian?

Well, their story is just at the beginning, filled with sweet kisses and even sweeter memories.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” Bash asked as he held Y/N, his wife now, close to himself.

“Hmm, I can begin to imagine it’s something close to the way I feel,” Y/N chuckled and Sebastian laughed, finally taking a look at her.

Ethereal, he thought. She stood in front of him in their shared bedroom, still in her white gorgeous wedding gown.

Sebastian just shook his head, still in disbelief that his happily ever after was in his arms at last. He pulled Y/N closer and placed his lips on hers. The one of many kisses shared that night.

[olddustorange]

I don’t have that much to say about it and ik its a touchstone in how-dick-is-different-from-Bruce discourse and Ego is a very good Batman text with genuinely pretty much no flaws at all but basically most other bruce stories about the psychological separation bw BRUCE and BATMAN as identities and how they’re not integrated or whatever come off really heavyhanded tryhard like ap psych sincere but lecturey &untrue. Its interesting but its shoehorned i think Yes there are the three visible identities, the fanon term for the first being brucie, the second something we can call for now real Bruce, and the third Batman. Bruce def does not have That much much cognitive dissonance about his dumb playboy act. he acts smoothly/painlessly by and it doesn’t really affect him or drain him to pretend that way and it probably is sometimes amusing even if its sometimes annoying. Switching that on and off is obviously deliberate but it’s very easy and not a big deal or burdensome or whatever. It would be for a normal person in our world and that kind of effortless lying would be really scary in our world!! But it’s just a regular degular chill thing in-universe for this character. Not a really draining arduous task that makes Bruce miserable

But there IS a theme well-established and reiterated constantly in 90s and 2010s canon that there’s the whole Bruce Wayne Isn’t Real There Is No Bruce Wayne It’s All Batman. And that is of course wrong because there IS a real Bruce Wayne, but its also actually correct because the man we’re talking about, Bruce Wayne, is still actually all Batman. and that is because because all of Bruce Wayne and all of Batman are the same. So the only point of saying the real Bruce is to distinguish from brucie. i actually feel like bruce is day-to-day pretty well-integrated. so its true that it IS all Batman but its just that Batman is a sincere clever quiet and humane murmury man the way “real Bruce” (who we can just call Bruce now) is. And Bruce is just sometimes pushed to his physical brink fighting crocodiles in the streets wearing ears. They have different voice pitches obviously but i don’t think Bruce like undergoes some mental transformation every time he pulls the cowl over his head. So it’s a false distinction that writers try to draw. But Bruce in the text recognizes that distinction himself!! And so that leaves us with the question of how to explain why BRUCE says that there is no Bruce Wayne? Well its just depressiontalk yelled while spiraling. but its a construct he recognizes, but recognizes where it does not actually exist, because he EXPECTS to have an identity crisis because that is culturally What You Expect If You Wear A Mask. and its also a little because people treat him so differently in vs out of the cowl. And also having the kids resolves this false distinction because no matter what, he is to them The Same Figure, cowl or no cowl. It’s not actually really different identities but just different settings of behaviors suited for different environments

[abyssalzones]

C-PTSD as a diagnosis makes so much sense for Ford because he really does fit almost all of the criteria, ESPECIALLY if you take the stuff in J3 into account in conjunction with his traumatic childhood (bullying, bad dad, etc.). It just makes sense in regards to his motivations and his issues with interpersonal relationships (like with Stan). Also buring yourself in your work (like he does) is a very common 'flight' coping mechanism to trauma in adults

I'm smiling like this right now

ford's whole.... mental health deal is extremely interesting to examine because Oh my god this man is the textbook image for "reacting to ongoing, continuous trauma". intentional or otherwise (I'm inclined to believe it's both).

like. okay hang on I'm about to get very in depth with it

I feel like there's no way this entire guy's life and in some ways his lasting identity haven't been defined by and constructed around various forms of trauma, maybe the most obvious and true-to-canon-intent being peer abuse/bullying from childhood. a lot of people downplay the impact of this type of abuse but it's... responsible for a lot of social ills in shocking ways. (if you're more interested in this topic here is an article my friend mer linked me a while back, it gets into it very deeply)

(a lot of this is going to be sourced from the wikipedia page for CPTSD [and my own experience Living with it] which I realize isn't very professional of me but Whatever this is tumblr)

one of the core tenets of ford's personality is that he's Different. he owns it, sure- his six fingers become a point of pride rather than something to be ashamed of- but they make it extremely clear that from a young age he associated being different with being a social pariah. ford's generation was characterized by notoriously cruel bullying, and anything that remotely made you stand out rendered you a target. ford could've been bullied for being nerdy and jewish (and failing to perform socially, ie dating) alone, having such an obvious mutation definitely was not winning him any points.

so it's honestly no surprise, when from childhood ford feels like he has One person in the world to trust and confide in, that he would go on to form very unhealthy attachment patterns typical of CPTSD. as you elaborated on regarding AvPD (which I know far less about but seems to have comorbidity with CPTSD): if you're hard-wired to believe socializing with others results in failure or betrayal, then you're not going to make an effort. but what does end up happening is that you're going to pour all of your trust and dependency into one person at a time, one person who is "safe".

previously, that was his brother. and it's not really hard to draw the conclusion from there that fiddleford was a subject of ford's attachment style, considering he was his One friend from college, and... one of Maybe two people ford is friends with at all who he isn't related to. he cites him as the only person he can possibly trust to work on the portal project alongside him, and he still can't bring himself to tell him the full truth, because he's terrified of losing him. I love their dynamic (I do think they were mutual best friends, and there was no small amount of trust reciprocated between them. "fiddleford was weird as hell too" is something I keep coming back to) and I don't think it's built on entirely unhealthy terms, but that kind of pressure is... setting things up to crash and burn.

enter bill stage left. back to "continuous yearning to be liked and accepted"- this guy knew that and made every effort to prey on ford's insecurities to reel him in as close as possible. this is what really pisses me off about the idea that bill was just "inflating ford's ego", because it's way, way more insidious than that. throughout the entirety of journal 3 we see ford reintroduce someone to his life he has a very positive relationship with (fiddleford) and how that trust gets gradually broken down by bill's influence "winning out" over their friendship. I think it's safe to say ford was already vulnerable: from the start, he'd been isolated in his research for six years (and it's unclear for how long he'd known bill by 1982), and bill proved time and time again to be someone who wouldn't judge him, someone who would praise him for his hard work, and perhaps most critically, make him feel like being different was something special.

like that's... that's really not good!!!! and that kind of thing works wonders on someone who has already settled with the idea that they're inclined to be alone just by design.

trying to put a cap on this. in relationships like the one he's had with his brother or fiddleford it doesn't even necessarily have to be ""toxic"" (vague term anyway) or outwardly bad to be built on unhealthy attachment patterns, and considering for a good chunk of ford's life his attachment to others can be characterized as "I can only trust ONE person at a time" it feels essential to any discussion of his CPTSD or canon trust issues. That is something that happens a lot in Real cases of CPTSD (hi) and only further snowballs into More trauma by leaving you vulnerable to manipulation and abuse (see: bill.)

I've been going on for way too long now and I feel like I've only scratched the surface of the thing I wanted to elaborate on sorry. that post traumatic stress disorder can complex

[lemonlover1110]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟗

𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa x f!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dumbification, Vaginal Sex

Kinktober Masterlist

Tooru Oikawa loves giving back to his fans. He takes pictures with them, signs autographs, hugs them, talks with them, accepts his presents, etc. He’s just the best with his fans. And he proves it to you, someone who claims to be his number one fan.

It was impossible to get past you. Your short little skirt draws a lot of attention to your legs, and your crop top which also happens to be low cut, shows your cleavage. Just how he likes it. He gets your number and invites you to his hotel.

Next thing you knew, he was balls deep inside you. You’re both laying down on his bed, your back’s to him. Your leg lifted up, placed over his hip. It’s only the second round, and you’ve coated his cock with your juices. There’s just so much… He would say too much, but it’s definitely not too much.

It sounds so wet with every single one of his thrusts. The walls of the hotel are thin so he knows that the neighbors can hear– Not that but the little whimpers that leave your lips. You were screaming his name in the first round, but you have calmed down now.

He knows that you weren’t a virgin but he wonders the type of guys you’ve been with. Do they lack stamina or what? Or are you always like this? It seems that no guy has fucked you twice the very same night, but he’ll make sure to make it a custom by the time he’s done with you this week.

“Am I fucking you stupid right now, pretty girl?” He asks, his thrusts picking up speed. It’s very loud how his skin slaps against yours. The neighbors can definitely hear that, but luckily enough the neighbors are just his teammates. They should know what he’s up to anyway. “Answer me, pretty girl. Am I fucking you dumb?”

“Y-Yeah…” You answer. It seems like the only actual word that goes through your mind. You’re focused on the pleasure that the volleyball player you admire is giving you. To think that you’re the lucky fan that caught his attention.

And fuck, he’s so skilled– At least you think he is since you’re fairly naive with topics of sex. At least he knows where the clit is and he knows how to move his fingers, which is something that your previous boyfriends didn’t know.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters. He hears your moans, and your whimpering but he wants more. He knows your brain is barely functioning, so he wants to hear your babbling. “You’re so pretty, aren’t you?”

Your mind is foggy, too focused on his dick that hits just the right spot. He urges you to answer, and you can just yell out, “Yeah…”

“You like this dick? You wanna get fucked by it every night?” The questions keep coming, and you can’t comprehend them. It’s the same answer each time. You could be admitting to a crime for all you care about, it’s not like you’re understanding anything at the moment. Oikawa is just fueling his ego with the questions. “Is yeah the only word you know, you dumb girl?”

“Yeah!” You yell, feeling your orgasm approach as he plays with your clit. You hear a chuckle coming from his lips. He loves this. You sound so stupid. 

Your cunt is squeezing around his cock. You’re just a slutty girl who lets the first guy she sees fuck her dumb. But he’ll do it. He’ll gladly take the spot of the guy who gets to fuck you dumb each time, especially with how pretty you sound by the second round. Not to mention how well your tight little pussy feels around him.

“You gonna let me come in this pussy every night?” He asks, and he receives his answer. You won’t say anything different. Yeah is the only word you know, all other words have been erased from your dictionary.

Your moans get louder and louder as you near another orgasm. You shut your eyes, slightly tilting your head back. Oikawa smirks as the scene before his head goes down to nibble on some of your neck’s skin. He’s spent the last three nights like this, and he loves it.

“Oh- Fuck-” You finally switch up, adding two more words to your vocabulary as your reach your orgasm. Oikawa pulls away, and he chuckles.

“Finally learned some new words, haven’t you, dumb girl?”

🏷 @s-witch-bitch @dont-ask-me-pls @todoroki-slut @jhsuhx @witchblades666 @eatingasswithsomeclass @Kamikat @tojigirlfriend @miemielovesjjk @ushigushy3000 @im-a-killer-queen @monstaxs-bitchh @lightofmylifeisbts @iam-mia9 @Flamesforrengoku @S0ur.cr34m @i2ilakkuma @mysticchaosangel @onidomi @geltears @hottieluvr @lovemarvel16 @windexwanda @captainweirdo42 @weasleypottersblog @sweetiepiezz @valentinedays @nothisispatrick300 @heartsatoru @flamealchemiste @redrum-and-diamonds @hannadesimp @m0ch1nut @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @nobody289x @deccahh @siriusoswaldsupremacy @watyousayin @poetrylovingwerewolf-blog @mimizsworld @milaaakebosss @icryduringgsexx

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

hi!!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE your hc about the Vees. I have a love n hate relationship with them.

But! I was thinking after finding out that apparently Val draws is there any possible hcs you could think of with this? Just anything really

Anyways! Hope you have a good day :3)

Awww thank you ❤️ I love these little bastards.

When it comes to Val and drawing, I like the idea that his skills always surprise people. This terrible man just takes a napkin at Starbucks and draws some masterpiece while waiting for his coffee, just after harassing a minimum wage employees and breaking a chair.

I don't think he's a trained artists; he has always enjoyed drawing but his father beat the shit out of him for any kind of artistry because it was "too girly", so he never had an opportunity to pursue it. But as a person with terrible attention span he spent a lot of time doodling here and there and in process developed actual skills.

Also I think he doesn't make a big deal out of it; he's self centred and usually shoves his every achievement into others faces but the idea of others seeing him as an artist with sensitivity that allows him to create beautiful things makes him feel weirdly vulnerable. And it carries bitter memories.

He draws Vox a lot. Especially during all the boring business meetings. All notes he makes are basically very horny doodles of Vox in different outfits and positions (truly VoxVal fandom worthy). Vox has mixed feelings about it because being the muse tickles his ego but at the same time, Val's imagination sometimes scares him.

[thecatghost111]

Crossposted from my ao3!

SPOILERS FOR GREEN’S CHANNEL BELOW:

also kinda long lol-

so everyone in the cg now has an evil counterpart/doppleganger/what you call that

green join the club, you finally have one now :D

i should draw this. If I had any form of art skills XD-

i can remember when the fandom joked about Green being the only one not having an evil side lmaoooo

also, I do believe that green screen (my favorite name for that weird corrupted green thing) didn't really intend on attacking the CG. Rewatching it, it seems even more clear. Though arguably, the CG didn't attack green screen until it punched Green. (These goddamn stickfigures and their bond oisfhdjoihsdiofhsdoh)

also uh if I had a nickel for every time a creation was deleted by its creator and happened to make itself into clones and stuff i'll have

*checks list*

two nickels.

i'd have twenty cents if I had a nickel for everytime a stickfigure cloned themself (In LoL with Purple, and later Second)

also the Green youtube channel comments confirm that the sticks do, in fact, call them Orange

(I'm still holding on the hc with Green calling them Sec, but most often everyone calls them Orange, and the hollowheads + Alan call them Second.)

it's so sweet :3 osdhfoidshfiohdsoifhoiwehiofhwofheeiowhfioewhdlscvnjibejbvdf (i'm jealous man)

also i love how the weapons and fighting styles they have still so consistent and matches personality-wise with their characters! kudos to Alan and his team :D

i have so so so so so many moments in here that I can frame on a wall with their bond. it's so cuteeeeeee 🥺

i know for a fact that green screen is gonna make a comeback. i just know it.

they didn’t empty the recycling bin at the end.

Now, the ending.

this is kind of what interests me the most, to be honest. Because I have a personal hc with Green having RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria)

but this isn’t about my headcanon right now, it’s something a little more.

And something. SOMETHING tells me that the next ep of this series might have either:

1) Green receiving a hate comment, and uh you know shit happens.

2) Green loves the positive validation so much that he pushes himself to get more of that, forgetting the 'fun' part of creating stuff in the process and yeah, shit also happens

that might not be true. it's just me going self-projection time and telling myself how is this guy getting more relatable every day.

When I first found out it was going to be about green, and influencers as a result, I went "Are they going to address the fact that being an influencer comes with a lot of shit involved?" now, i'm not one myself, so I wouldn't know lmaooooo

but like Green, I do crave positive attention, and the ominous lighting at the very end just tells me that something

something is gonna happen regarding that. he likes it, and he wants more of it.

I mean, he's portrayed as the talented one, the one who's kind of a show-off and sometimes a bit arrogant

but then again, all of this was made before his channel technically blew up, so although it might not go in the comment direction he still wants validation and stuff, he wants someone other than his friends to tell him that what he makes is good because he craves it. he craves the attention he's getting.

and maybe he doesn’t want to just do it for fun anymore. Maybe he wants it moreso for the attention.

(oh shit I accidentally inserted myself at the end right there, don't mind me being relatable onto this guy. i might write about this scenario happening idk)

it feels like the start of something bigger. and i like it. we've seen from multiple other shorts how his ego affects him, how would this be any different?

edit: during the avg reaction, DJ said that in terms of youtubers, Green seems pretty wholesome. And Alan replied with: “we’ll see”

HUH- HUH

What are you hiding.

Okay, maybe it might not likely happen and I’ll look super embarrassing and consider deleting this entire post but shhh, we'll save that for future me to deal with

this is just a theory, A GAME THEORY-

shut tf up not everything’s about you

[alice-angel12x]

Death isn't so scary

Lilia x Death! reader

(behold my amateur photoshop skills)

Lilia had lived a very long life, and had seen many things come and go. The world was constantly changing, spells, technology, and even fashion statements were different in a flash. Yet There was one thing, or one person who never changed, not even time could change them, other than the names they went by.

Lilia could remember clearly as day the first time they saw Y/n of Death. It was during the war between Humans and Fea. In one of the battles the humans faced a humiliating loss, and General Lilia and his army reviled in their victory. When he noticed a lone figure on the field. Draped in a dark cloak, with chains tied around the hip that two scythes dangled from their hip.

The young cocky warrior Lilia thought the figure was a single surviving human left. With a smirk, he decided to scare the life out of this human. So with his large jade buster blade, teleported above and tried to slam down on the figure.

Only for the figure to stop the blade with one of their scythes. Lilia struggled to force the sword down or break free from the entanglement. But the scythe's curved blade caught the silver vines that wrapped around Lilia's own. Yet the figure stood perfectly still as the continued to block the blade.

"Your quite strong for a mortal, where were you when your friends needed you," Lilia smirked as his allies gathered around.

"Your a bit late human," The general mocked, as the rest laughed.

"Do not laugh," The figure scoffed. " DO NOT BE PROUD OF THIS MASSACRE!!"

With one swift movement, the figure sent the small Fae troop flying.

________________________________________

I remember clearly when they warned us Fae that we greatly underestimate humans. And that they will be back for us soon. Of course in my youth I did not believe them.

Yet their promise would soon be fulfilled as the humans started getting stronger. I began to lose my friends and allies left and right, with that eerie whistle haunting me every step of the way.

Eventually, both sides came to a draw, much to Fae kinds Ego. The thought of even acknowledging humans disgusted them. I wasn't the same after the war. We Fae live for so long that we forget that ultimately we are all powerless to death.

One night, when I went out to mourn the loss of my allies. When I noticed a familiar figure in the distance. I silently approached as I watched them pay their respects to the fallen. I could even see the sparkle of tears run down their face as they placed a flower on each of the graves.

"I know your there, General Lilia. Congratulations on your promotion by the way," Death said simply, not even turning to face Me.

"What are you doing here, demon?" I glared as I clutched my fist.

"Still refuse to admit what I am. Why are all Fae like this?" Death said with an annoyed sigh.

"What! It is your fault that they are dead. You cut their lives short!" I shouted as I readied my weapon.

"My fault... MY FAULT!" Death shouted in rage as they knocked me off my feet, slamming me into a tree. "I never really understand why you fae were made this way. I told Life that giving them a millennium's worth of life, absurd."

"You Fae think because you live so long you are above everything. Even your queen brags how she is above death," Death growled as they reached for my blade. "You take things for granted and waste your time in this life, believing your hot $&@%."

I wanted to shout, scream that they were wrong. They were just cruel being that takes life as they, pleased. Memories of my loved ones flashed in my mind, only for the images to fash to their course in the mud. Suddenly my blade was logged into the tree next to my face.

"Pick it up," Death ordered, but... I couldn't everyone I love and care for... Are gone.

"Why did you spare me?" I asked hopelessly.

"Spare you... I did not spare you. Your skills and luck are what saved you. My job is simply to be there when mortal life is about to end," Death said as they stared into my soul. " Don't take anything in life for granted, no matter how fast and fleeting it may seem. And by the end of your life, you will be content."

They said as they pulled away to turn and leave. I... I had to ask. Why were they... Death themself giving me life advice.

"Because it will be important later down the road. When you will teach this to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek," They answered.

"W-who?" I asked, those were names I couldn't recall.

"They will look to you when the time comes, take good care of them," Was all they said.

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

Years later I would meet these people, very talented young Fae and human. And I'm glad I did stop to smell the roses of life. I never realized just how quickly humans changed, from technology to even fashion statements. And Every once and a while, no matter where in the world I went. They were there. At times they were in a place of mourning, but a lot of the time they were smelling the roses too.

Never once in my life would I ever thought I would spend a good century getting to know Y/n of Death. One could even say we're friends. But after some time, Y/n just vanished suddenly. Until now.

One night, Malleus vanished on one of his strolls. As Sebek and Silver ran all over the school in search of the prince. I decided to check around ramshackle, where I heard a familiar haunting whistle.

So I only did the logical thing, and whistle along as I followed the sound to its source. And there they were, the same wolf-eared figure standing alone in the open field behind Ramshackle.

"Greetings old friend," I spoke up, Y/n's ears flicked in acknowledgment as they turned to look back at me.

"Hello to you too, Lilia. Wow, you sure look old," Y/n laughed.

I rolled my eyes with a small laugh and stood next to them, as we both just enjoyed the beautiful night.

___________________

Bonus scene: inspired by an anonymous ask.

After many late-night game sessions and improper sleep, Lilia slowly follows behind Malleus and Silver. As his eyes wandered his eyes soon landed on his ancient friend, who was walking towards them. Y/n noticed Lilia's stares, so they stopped to greet them. Only to be met with Lilia's tired mumblings.

"You look like you're going to drop dead. Are you ready to cross over?" Y/n asked as a joke.

"Alright...HIT ME" Lilia shouted as he stood tall with his arms wide open.

Everyone standing around, including Malleus and Silver, look on in shock.

"..I'm sorry what ?" Malleus asked.

"I said, you can go ahead...take me, angel," Lilia said as he fell forward into Y/n's arms.

Y/n chuckle softly as they scoop up the tiny old fae and just handed him over to Silver.

"...Your dad is tired..isn't he ?" Y/n commented with an amused smile.

"I can see that now." Silver nodded.

[fictionalsownme]

More Than A Woman | wilford warfstache x gn!viewer / reader |

chapter one - "I've known you very well"

A/N: hi everyone!! I'm so excited to post this! Usually I spend a long time on the stuff I write but I wrote a good chunk of this in a feverish burst haha, I've been wanting to write for Wil and had such a clear idea of how I see him in my head for so long :)) This fic will probably be around 10 chapters~ish and progress will probably be a little slow but I'm also trying to get faster at my writing so I guess we'll see! Getting it down is always the hardest, then you spend a bit of time hating it, then the fixing can start! Anyway, I hope you guys like this, I love this dorky weirdo a lot for whatever reason, and I'd love to write for other egos too :) ((there might be a guest appearance or two in here in the last few chapters if plans don't change 👀)) hope you guys enjoy the first chapter at least! lmk 🥰! word count: 2.9k notes: reader is gender-neutral, similar to all of mark's stuff :) -- the title is just after the song! no pronouns or descriptors are used other than the occasional they/them. reader is the viewer (& district attorney) from wkm, adwm, ahwm, iswm, etc, but that won't come up until later. wmlw wilford. story will be mostly fluff, some hurt/comfort & angst, lots of romance and flirting! story is adapted from an idea I had for my self insert. we will get into some lore stuff (or at least my understanding of the lore 👀) and filling in gaps with headcannons, but it's mostly about wilford & reader and I'll try to explain as we go so don't worry about it too much if you don't know all of it. especially since I don't know if my understanding is always 100% accurate 👉👈 let's have fun yall! 💞

masterlist | AO3

The music playing softly over the convenience store speakers was pleasant, if slightly boring. Like elevator music— there only to help ease the passing of time. Your night shift would end soon, and the sky could be seen as it lightened more every minute through the windowed front of the building.

Other than that, the old store was quiet. Dusty. Pink and orange neon strips lined the walls near the ceiling. They overpowered the dated fluorescent lights, casting everything in a slightly peach haze. Like a dream. 

Different sections of the store were marked with neon too, the letters glowed against the wall denoting the drinks, the snacks, the hot food… You liked your little store. Even if the unyielding isolation of your work made you a bit… complacent. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly talked with someone.

The ice creams chilled your fingers through the wrappers as you pulled them from their box and slotted them into place. Even with the cold air of the freezer wafting over you, you could smell the cool summer air coming in the sliding front doors.

You liked to prop them open on dawns like these. The convenience store lights did draw in the occasional pestering bug, but they usually found their way out again before long. You did get a bat once. Albeit a little crazed and frantic, you were surprised to find it harmless. Maybe a little lost. Now that thing seemed like it would never leave. 

Refocusing on your task, you brushed your condensation-soaked fingers on your work apron, tied tight behind your neck and around your back, and shut the freezer door. 

The motion alert chimed a pleasant tune through the staticky old speakers as a customer entered the open doors from the street.

You called an automatic, “Welcome in~,” and went about straightening a shelf of snack bars and chocolate. You didn’t bother to look in their direction as you heard them make their way through the aisles.

“Pardon me,” said their strange, nearly British accent from beside you now. You turned to the source of the voice, the man who’d just walked in, and your eyes went to his outfit first. 

A silky-- almost sparkly in how it caught the light-- lavender shirt with mismatched buttons revealed expanses of his bare chest. It was paired with white bell-bottoms and a fake pink afro hanging half-off his head, about to fall off. He had olive skin and dark hair-- nearly black--, fluffy and sticking up every which way like hands had been running through it. Scruffy facial hair framed a thick mustache that tinted slightly pink where it turned up at the ends.

He looked… honestly, he looked ridiculous. But the 70s getup was fun, you supposed. And his eyes-- dark brown and monolid-- were handsome. Underneath all the… extra mess. You blinked, slowly, in a way that felt like waking up.

“Uh, hi. Are you coming from a costume party or something?” It was August, but you supposed it was never too early to start the spooky season. 

“Oh! Do you know of one? I do love a good costume. But no. Just the regular-sort. Just woke up from one.” He scanned the products near his head, grabbed a protein bar, sniffed the wrapper, guffawed, and put it back.

“You just woke up? Are you alright?”

“Oh, worry not, friend, this is normal for my level of reverie! I’m not even hungover!” He laughed, his hands going to his hips.

You stared at him.

“I was just looking for something to gnaw on! To nourish myself before I’m on my way.” His eyes were still traveling all over, not really seeing you.

Now in theory, a strange man coming in at this hour, acting even stranger, with his clothes disheveled? You knew you should be on your way to your safe space behind the counter to get him checked out and exiting the store as fast as possible. But there was something about him… 

Something you couldn’t place…

Instead you raised your eyebrows and relaxed against the cooler door. “Uh, I guess that depends on what kind of food you like,” You offered. After a moment, his gaze landed on you and he seemed to finally take you in. Your uniform, your crossed arms, your patient expression, your features. His face scrunched into confusion.

A moment passed, staring at each other like that. “Your shirt’s looking a little rough, you know.”

“Have we met, friend?” He asked as he began to fix his buttons. 

You watched passively as more of his chest came into view. He either didn’t notice or didn’t mind your blatant staring. You weren’t sure why you were staring, or what you were feeling as you did so. 

You weren’t gawking at his abs or anything-- well,-- not that he didn’t have abs. He did, sort of. The expanse of his chest and abdomen were tight with toned muscle. He definitely wasn’t lacking abs, anyway. Either way… this was about something different. 

You wondered for a moment if a vague familiarity was what you were picking up on, but quickly dismissed it.

“I feel like I’d remember meeting you.” 

You realized with a start that your comment could be seen as flirtatious, and added quickly, “Just, you know-- generally.”

But he just hummed and spun on his heels, turning away. You sighed and found yourself in-step behind him, hands in your uniform pockets. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Well, either way!” He started, his energy returning tenfold. “Let's see what this cute little shop has to eat!” 

For some reason, you asked, “Do you have money?” 

He froze. “Er, no~. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind what?”

“Well, spotting me of course! Let’s just say I owe you one, eh friend?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Thought so.” 

Thought so? Maybe you did know him… 

It was your turn to squint in displaced confusion. “What’s your name?”

His voice came from behind you and you spun around, your shoes squeaking on the tile floor. When did he sneak around you? 

He bent over and twirled his hand, a flamboyant bow finally knocking the afro off his head. “Wilford Warfstache, at your service.”

“That’s your name?” 

He righted himself. “For now.” It suited him well enough, but for some reason it sounded misplaced.

… But no, either way, you definitely hadn’t met him before. You didn’t know many people in the first place, let alone someone so eccentric.

Still, you were curious about him. Curious about his personality and who he was. He felt sort of like a puzzle waiting to be solved. And so far, despite his quirks, despite how admittedly weird you’d also been acting, he’d been friendly. You couldn’t say the staring and prodding questions were too in-character for you. At least not when it came to customers. 

His hair looked softer without the wig to weigh it down-- parted at his brow and long enough to fluff over the tips of his ears and end where his neck met his spine. You reached down to scoop the curly mop of synthetic hair up off the floor.

“Where did you get this thing?”

He hummed something like ‘I don’t know’, his eyes sort of wide like a clueless puppy’s. 

“What, you just kind of have it?”

“Yea’p.”

You squinted at him, a smirk forming on your lips. “How about I do you a favor and throw this away?”

He shrugged, hummed an ‘alright’ sound, and turned away. 

“Oh no, I was kidding! God, here--!” You had to grab his wrist to stop him from wandering off further and placed the pink afro in his hand.

You had just been trying to tease him, but now you just felt bad. “Look, Wilford, you want something to eat? We have to throw the hot food out every night. You can have a taquito or a slice of pizza or something if you want.”

Then he was frozen again-- staring down at where your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Your eyes followed his gaze down and then you were staring too.

A moment passed. Then two. Finally, you let go and crossed your arms again, tucking your hands away where they couldn’t embarrass you again.

“... Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I did that.” You did your best to clear your throat.

But he was still stuck there. He blinked a few times and his gaze met your eyes, his brows gathering together. 

“Wh-What did you say your name was, friend?” He seemed so… serious all of sudden. So dire.

You hadn’t mentioned it yet, but told him with a hesitant voice. 

His expression blanked, eyes widening. He brought his arm, the offending afro in tow, to his chest, touching his wrist where you’d held it.

“Oh…” 

You raised your brows and asked softly, “Sorry, do you know me, then?”

“Hm?” And he blinked like his mind was clearing, like he’d forgotten you were there. 

He cleared his throat, smiled-- ear to ear-- his mustache lopsided like a cartoon. “Oh-- nevermind about that! Some food would be lovely, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes were sparkling. 

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing fancy. Here,” And you walked over towards the front counter. Wilford trailed close behind you-- holding onto the wig in his hands like a school kid holding a lunch box-- his gaze wandering over the store again like he hadn’t seen it the first time.

You arrived at the hot foods section, a glassed-off section of day-old food over heated rods. You shrugged. “If you have a sensitive stomach, maybe don’t,” you started, “but it’s mostly fine to be honest. I eat it if I’m in a pinch, you know.”

You hopped up to sit on the counter, your legs facing Wilford, and leaned back to reach around and grab the tongs waiting there. You straightened and clapped them together twice. You offered him a smile. “What’ll it be, Mr. Warfstache?” Then a quieter, “--that was your last name right?”

“Do you gravitate towards anything yourself?”

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of pizza, I guess. Even here.”

His smile grew sort of soft. “Then that. If you please.”

“You got it.”

You leaned over again and served up the slice of moderately warm and slightly greasy pizza on a brown napkin and passed it off to him. 

“Much obliged.”

You got one for yourself too, and when you righted and your eyes found Wilford again, he was sitting in a retro-style diner chair you’d never seen before-- his feet against the edge of the counter beside you.

You couldn’t help the surprised laughter that choked out of you. “Wha-- where did you even find that?”

The chair teetered on its two legs as he leaned precariously back, tilting his head at your question. The pink wig sat in his lap and you couldn’t help thinking it looked like some weird dog.

“Well, there’s no need to worry! I’m only borrowing it, I’m not a barbarian.”

And you just knew you weren’t getting more of an answer than that.

“So who even are you?” You asked as he took a bite of the pizza, somehow pulling all the cheese right off the top in one piece. He pouted down at the offending mozzarella, slurping it into his mouth and swallowing it. “Do you live around here?”

“Mm. I don’t really live anywhere. Much more the exploring-- ever on the move-- type.”

He was so expressive. It really felt like talking to an old cartoon come-to-life or something. You turned to lean against the side of the glass cover, swinging your legs so your feet rested on the counter, not far from his still against the edge. You weren’t touching at all, but you were surprised at how quickly the two of you fell into a casual-- albeit timidly curious-- rhythm. 

“So what do you do?” And you began to eat too.

He beamed, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. “I’m an interviewer! Warfstache Tonight, that’s what my show is called! It’s quite a professional endeavor!”

You smiled and hummed around your bite of pizza, impressed. That actually explained a lot. And it suited him nicely enough. “Sounds pretty glamorous.”

“And what about you? You can’t just be a convenience store clerk!” He seemed so affronted by the idea. Crinkling his nose, dropping his voice an octave. “How dreadfully boring.”

You winced. “‘Just a convenience store clerk?’ Ouch, Wilford…” You couldn’t help frowning down at your slice. 

 “Oh! No no, pardon me!” He let the chair fall back to four legs, waving the idea way with a panicked hand. “I only meant that… this isn't what truly stirs your passions, is it? Do you do anything at your leisure? For work or just… something you enjoy?”

You squinted at him. But you didn’t really think he was trying to insult you. And he wasn’t wrong. It just… wasn’t always the most fun when someone pointed it out. Especially like that. 

You sighed, fidgeting as you considered his question. “Not right now… This job keeps me pretty occupied. But you know, it’s not too bad. It keeps me, I don’t know, grounded I guess.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded, taking another bite. “I do hope you get more opportunities soon, then.” He said, surprisingly grounded.

You looked at him. “... Thanks.” And you meant it.

“And… my apologies for the earlier, uh, miswording.”

 “That’s fine… I’d be curious to hear more about your show, though! Have you interviewed anyone interesting or anything?”

A beat. A sort of tiredness settled into his shoulders and he peered up at you. “The odd gold-star guest did wander in from time to time. I’m not sure if my skills were quite deserving of them at the time.”

Was that… shame?

“The truth is, I couldn’t quite live up to the role. I--” He laughed, pained. He cleared his throat. “I’m taking a bit of a break from show business for the moment.”

Ah. So that’s what happened. You offered him a sympathetic smile. “To party? That’s probably why you don’t have any money, Wilford. And why you have to rely on shitty convenience store food?” You held up your greasy napkin like it was evidence.

“Now don’t underestimate the power of a good party! And this food is fine, I’m grateful for it,” He crumpled the now empty napkin and gestured wildly with it. “The truth is I get by just fine. I’m just not sure what else I should be doing.”

You looked out the front windows. The sky was getting lighter. The timer marking the end of your shift would go off any minute.

So maybe that’s why he’d been asking you about your passions. You felt bad for him. He was strange, to be sure. And a little hard to follow. But he was also… sweet. He had a softness about him.

And still… there was that feeling that hadn’t disappeared since meeting him. Like… like your soul recognized him. Maybe not deeply. But distantly. Like you’d met him in a dream. It was a ridiculous notion. Ridiculous didn’t seem beyond his territory.

You turned, legs coming down from the counter once again. You leaned forward, your hand landing at the junction of his shoulder and neck. His silk shirt was soft under your fingers. His eyes jumped up to yours and you looked down at him with a smile. 

“You liked doing your show right? You want to be an interviewer?”

He nodded slowly. His lashes fluttered. 

“Then that’s what you should be doing! You just have to try again!” You shrugged with one shoulder. “It might suck a lot. And you might fail again. But pick yourself back up. Keep going. I’m sure you can do it if you keep at it and think outside the box, you know. Failing only means failing if you stop.”

You leaned back, your hand sliding away. He stared at you.

“That’s what the rest of us do, anyway. Honestly, maybe you should do your show online! You know, livestream it or something. I’m sure you’d find your own way to it.”

Slowly, a smile crept back in, the corners of his eyes creasing. 

“What a wonderful idea…” 

God, his eyes… 

You looked down at your own napkin, laughing a little at yourself. “Wilford, I promise, the advice I just gave you was nothing crazy.”

“Well, perhaps it’s just a little too rare that I get a pick-me-up.”

You hopped down from the counter. “Swing by whenever, I’ll hand them out for free. Though, if you’re always on the move, I guess you’re probably not in town for long, huh?”

He quickly followed your lead and stood, his chair nearly falling in his haste. “Uh— w-well I, I don’t know, I could always… linger for a day or two. Hard to say really.” 

“Uh huh.” You smirked at him, raising your brows. “Well, if that constant partying you have going on brings you back here, feel free stop in, okay? … It’d be nice to have someone in here every once in a while. Well, someone friendly, anyway.” 

“Right. Will do. Of course.”

You gave him two solid pats on the chest and turned to throw the napkins away behind the counter. When you turned to face him again, he was gone.  Only slightly confused, you quickly recovered and yelled a quick, “bye~!” to the now empty store.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I’m back to those posts about Steve drawing his own dick for Bucky…

Bucky for sure would have Steve do a series of like 5 drawings/paintings of Steve’s own cock. The series would go from a completely soft cock to fully hard and all the stages in between. Bucky would frame them and put them over the bed.

And maybe Bucky realizes that Steve finds it easier to draw the blue pictures than to say the words. So he has sub!Steve draw the fantasies he can’t bring himself to say out loud.

Steve folds the drawings and leaves them out for Bucky to find. And Bucky is blown away at how Steve draws him. THIS is how Steve sees him? He looks so…sexy, kind, nurturing, and of course dominant. Bucky gets a big ego boost from those drawings of himself doing dirty things to Steve, as well as lots of scene ideas!

related to these two posts

Okay, if you're at all into oviposition, I HIGHLY recommend you check out "Day 29: Alien dildo/Oviposition" by pandafish on AO3. It's only 3k words and so good! It relates to this prompt because Steve's drawings are what reveal his oviposition kink to Bucky 👀

You're so right, though! Bucky definitely has the whole fucking collection--proudly framed, conviently stuffed into his wallet, or otherwise displayed. Drawing after drawing of Steve's sweet, cute, lil flaccid cock but hoards of drawings of Steve's cock so hard that it's emboldened by throbbing veins, the head engorged, fat, dripping wet from how long he's been aroused, his whole dick and balls stained dark red-purple, too. Further, he has drawings of all the stages in between those two extremes; soft and vulnerable to hard and temping. He's fascinating and gorgeous. So much so that Bucky could and does stare at his pretty dick for hours, on paper as well as when they're stripped down together, time stretched to the limit.

Steve could have drawn all the drawings on different days, and it would've been much easier on him--easier on his mind, body, and soul--but he didn't. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun for Bucky if he'd done it that way with the collection built up over weeks. But because Steve modeled for himself all day, all in one day, it means that by the time dusk rolls around... Steve comes tumbling out of his home studio, his head fuzzy, eyes hazy, feeling too big for his own body, unsure of what to do with his limbs, his skin buzzing with electricity. A crackling, faint fire burning through him, smoking up the whole studio where he had been holed up.

He's dazed by the hours and hours he's spend curled up with his sketchbook, a pencil in one hand, his cock in the other. Examining himself. Detailing every inch. Keeping himself at each stage, entirely soft to throbbingly hard, through sheer self-discipline. His head is mortifyingly full of his own dick. It feels self-obsessively, heat prickling at the back of his neck, sending shivery feelings down his spine. He, he... he feels like he isn't anything but his dick. Like nothing about him exists at all but his dick; he doesn't have a brain, he doesn't have thoughts, he doesn't have a voice, he doesn't have arms, he doesn't have legs, he doesn't have a heartbeat except for the one pounding through his dick like bass shaking the whole foundation of a concert venue. Pounding. Steve doesn't have anything but a dick.

Speaking of his dick--

The moment Bucky finds him tripping over his own feet, tumbling forward, falling more than he's walking, Bucky is grabbing him by the cock and guiding him toward their bedroom. A cute, tiny whimper drips out of Steve's lips, his mouth statically open, head all spacy. He's mush.

Similarly to that adorable little noise, Bucky keeps his voice hushed, gentle as he leads him by his cock, hard as hell. Steve can hardly understand him anyway, so it doesn't matter what he says. He just needs some stable direction because, otherwise, he's aimlessly floating--swimming through the glittery clouds surrounding him. A whole day of forcing himself to stay soft, denied, then controlling his cock and keeping it hard, ramping up to be harder, harder, and harder denied differently, will do that to a man. He's broken open. Too sensitive. Lost to the mercy of such an enticing sensation.

They make it to the bedroom with no help from Steve at all. He's bonelessly laid out on their king-sized bed, spread flat like sweet, sugary jam melting onto warm, crispy toast. Then, just like that, Bucky dares to drag his hand up his shaft real slllllllllow. After, too soon for his poor, little Stevie doll, Bucky strokes down just as unhurried and just as devastingly tight so these big, wet tears well up in Steve's hazy, blue eyes--it makes him look like he's near drowning. But immediately, those sizzling tears spill over, and suddenly, he's pouting, shaking, sobbing. Outright blubbering.

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. He's not making real words. He's too simple for words right now. He couldn't even tug and pull at Bucky's hands to show him what he wants when he's like this. He really is a doll, posable, sweet, and anything that Bucky imagines him to be. He's Bucky's.

Bucky's to touch.

It's agonizing. Does he want Bucky to keep stroking him off? Does he even want to cum? Does he just want his dick to be left alone? Does he want this to stop? Does he want to float here forever? Never coming down? God! It huuurts! He feels all swollen and sensitive, it's almost like Bucky is pressing on a fresh bruise. There's this fucking rush to it, the endorphins shimmering too brightly through the pain, but it's painful and tender, too.

It's so much.

Steve is sobbing, crying so much that the tears are dripping into his mouth, salty and wet. As hard as he's blubbering, the baby, he's not shaking, nor is his chest heaving because he can't.

Steve can't even writhe, thrashing side to side, because he's so drained from a day of nothing but dick. His fingers twitch, hands aching from all that drawing. His cock can't twitch or jerk, it just drips, overflowing, making a puddle on his weakly clenching stomach--the flat, smooth muscle of his abs and the shallow dip of his belly button. All he can do is stare up at Bucky, those big, puppy-dog eyes foggy, his head is empty. Mouth agape. Dumb. All he knows is Bucky.

BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBu--

It's not his fault he can't admit his fantasies. They're just so dirty and m-mortifying, and words are so hard. For such a delicate thing like Steve, it's so much. He gets needy, and he dissolves, cotton candy into water. It's lucky that his hands are smarter, and his drawings don't just turn into indistinguishable scribbles.

I didn't actually mean to write that... it just happened 💀💀