#haven’t done a landscape piece in awhile

[happytamago]

A familiar face in a new world

[salavante]

I’m going to do a quick analysis on the pieces I felt I learned the most from during Artfight2020. I made 20 character illustrations over the course of a little over a month, got to draw a lot of different characters and environments, and would like to catalog what I feel I gained from it in terms of technique and process. A little Post-Mortem, if you will. Normally I would draw a little cartoon or something as a header but I’m tired lol. These are not really in any order. I am going to include the username of the characters’ owners but am not going to “@” them as not to annoy anyone, these are just kind of my personal thoughts about my process. 

Burn Forever - Character owned by @/evilbeards. Really love the colors in this one, it makes it look very regal, while also reminding me of medieval antiquity. This is the best fire I’ve done in awhile because it has both pleasing shapes, and a variance in hues within the flame. I made a point to remember this when I did “The Last Candle Burns”. I also really went all in with uplit lighting that clung to every crag in Tel’s face and think it paid off, it made me more confident that I could pull off more scenes with dramatic lighting in the future. Also, knocking the top of the throne of branches out of black and into dark blue gives an effective illusion of distance.

Bloodline - Characters owned by @/SaltiestGoat (twitter). A solution to characters presented primarily in black and white was to make the colors more symbolic than naturalistic - the story these two characters (who are father and daughter) were presented with was extremely vivid, and so it wasn’t hard to distill it into motifs that could be represented with color - power and violence as red, which is both compounded and spread via war/material wealth (gold), a cyclical relationship that is bright and searing against a cold, grey world. And white as something strange/supernatural and unearthly (eyes and teeth). Something I like when viewing art on a digital screen as opposed to a print or an original is the way that the brightest value of white feels like a stabbing pinprick, it really feels like it shines and elevates it a bit. But, anyway, using so much black was kind of a leap of faith, but it allowed for me to capture the sort of dreamlike atmosphere I was going for.

Dern It- Character owned by @/slabmangrave. Another one of those leaps of faith in using a lot of black, this time to create an illusion of depth implying that perhaps Hogarth here has been wandering around in an endless, stabbing field of cactuses, injecting a little humor, but also the vastness of the landscape. I found it a fun challenge to try and muster up a desert scene in a setting that effectively has no sun (relying on cool colors). The purple was a last minute addition that I ended up really liking, as I think it did better to silhouette The Teeth. I also used very minimal “line coloring” on this - something I really like about the source material is the textural mark making, and I feel like the starkness of black makes things have a little more of a tactile quality, in this case. I also think I might be on to something, representing specks of floating bits as small, short lines.

It’s Coming For You Through The Trees - Character owned by @/peg-head. One, I think this is my favorite set of teeth. I think the uneven quality of the two front teeth really sells it I also found it a fun challenge to change the camera up and have it be looking from a little ways below - I don’t think I entirely sold the concept of the character handing an object down to the viewer, but I think it’s a lot closer than my other attempts. I also liked using what was mostly a limited color palette, and getting to have a more desaturated, naturalistic range of colors. And like I said before, I love that small, stabbing pinprick of white light on a computer screen, and I think it works really well here.

Grease Monkey: Character owned by @/night-margie. This one may have been the most extreme test of my abilities, as I usually try to stay away from background elements that are inorganic, if I can help it. But I’m in the throughs of working on my own sci-fi setting right now and figured I should challenge myself. Not quite limited colors per say, but I think the division of gold and violet light works to separate the different areas of the piece (I tried it first just with blue but found it to be way too homogenous). Not entirely successful in regards to making a character look like they are seated beyond the lip of an object, but I think the pleasing shapes the character creates make up for it…but just barely, lol. I think this has a good balance of black negative space to grimy such-and-such, and am pretty pleased with the stylization of electrical sparks. I’ll have to experiment with it further.

Cryptid Sighting: Character owned by @/gnarliegnasties (twitter). First of all I think the thing this encouraged me to do the most was invest in more abstract, stylized background elements to create the illusion of depth, and I really gotta keep that in my comic-ing back pocket . Typically, I don’t tint my blacks entirely - I usually just color objects and edges that I feel are of special interest, or need to look more cohesive (as is usually the case with seams in clothing or armor, or a character’s fingernails). But In this case, I felt tinting them violet would make the environment feel more lush, and would also attractively frame the warmer blue of the character. This is a color scheme I haven’t tried (teal, purple, blue-green and a light orange-red) and I really enjoy it.

Summersong: Character owned by @/satourni. I really love the colors on this one - but, this is one of those pieces where I feel like I could do it better if I tried again! I definitely learned a lot from - I don’t think the underwater effect around the character is quite convincing, and would have been better served with the surface being visible in the gap between Kester and the camera. I’d also say the small, beadlike drops of water are more effective than the really big, heavy ones. I’d love to do more underwater scenes - makes me homesick! 

Hail To The King - Character owned by @/ petarvee (twitter). This is the one that I think I put the most time in that yielded the least satisfaction for me - I definitely feel like I overworked it. Snakes and creatures with likewise long necks are hard to draw, they need to taper in a way that feels natural, and I don’t think I really sold their feeling of mass - and the way it squishes and stretches - to my preference. I also stepped out of my comfort zone with the brighter, more saturated colors, and though I like the hoodoos, I think the rest of it is a little too discordant, despite my efforts. Should’ve had a stronger light source, or focused less on spectacle and more on portraying the character. I bit off a little more than I could chew with the hydra. I admit, I really like this artist’s work and was anxious about doing something for him - so, I ended up trying a little too hard to make something flashy. But, better to have rose to a challenge and failed doing something ambitious than to do something boring, I suppose.

In summation: 

-Let shapes made out of solid colors or black create illusion of distance or more objects.

-More limited color palettes seem to yield the best results for one-off illustrations, I’m still a little new at coloring compared to other people and need to remember that. I need to “grind” a little more. 

-A painted-in highlight accentuating an edge can both imply a stronger light source, and be a way to separate shapes too similar in value. But don’t overdo it or it becomes a little obnoxious. 

-Knock back an object with color to make them feel further away - you know, atmospheric something or another. 

-Balance black negative space with textured surfaces - it shouldn’t be a clean 50/50.

- Those little hash marks do a pretty good job at varying texture and particle effects. Use em more. 

[shabre-legacy]

Looking Back

Tyrenic stepped away from the SIS agent and stared out at the Mantellian skyline. He hadn’t been here in so  long. The memories were crashing against the feelings of the planet. The pain, and fear and hate and suffering that were part of the landscape for any Jedi in a war zone was everywhere. It hadn’t always been this way. That was part of what made it so painful, he could remember when this planet had felt warm and safe. When he couldn’t sense everything the people suffered here. 

Shelerik and T7 were next to him, Shelerik had been waiting when he’d returned from the imperial stronghold. The agent said he’d been waiting there for awhile, led a few rattled soldiers through a meditation and sent them to their missions calmed and focused. Hopefully, it would help them. 

He felt a strong hand land on his shoulder as he stared, lost in his memories. He needed to do this. It had haunted him for too long and Force knows how long it would be until he could make it back to the planet. He heard T7 chirp next to him. The droid had become a trusted member of his team, maybe even a friend.  “Head back to the ship, get Kira and prepare to head out. I’m sure the general has more that we need to accomplish urgently. I have some things to take care of, I’ll be there soon.” 

T7 let out a quick and quiet stream of binary. “Jedi sure? Jedi - T7=safe?”

 Nic looked down at him. “I’m sure T7. I’ll be fine, I just have some personal business to take care of.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shelerik kneel down and place a hand on T7 “Please go on ahead. Find Kira. I need to talk to Knight Shabre for a moment. I’ll be along soon. Wait at the ship please.” Shelerik smoothly rose to his feet as the astromech chirped his agreement and rolled away toward the spaceport. Nic was always impressed by how easily Shel could move his bulk. He was tall and broad and seemed like he shouldn’t be able to move with the grace he did and it was always interesting to see how he interacted with much smaller beings like T7 or like Kira.

 He hadn’t missed the way Shelerik seemed to look a bit longer than necessary or spend a bit more time than he might normally talking to her. He was careful though, they were Jedi and though there were few years between them in age, Shelerik was a Knight and Kira still a padawan. Shel seemed aware of that and was keeping a proper distance, though a little chat between them couldn’t hurt.

 It was also interesting how around T7 and Kira and others, they were still so formal. often referring to each other as Knight Shabre or Knight Coro, occasionally shifting to Knight Tyrenic and Knight Shelerik instead. It helped to differentiate between on duty and off duty time. Not that there was much of an off duty time. You were always a Jedi, whether actively engaged in the duties and business of the order or not. And, ok, maybe they were still kind of proud of finally passing their trials.

Another set of fighters streaking across the sky drew his attention back to the present. 

“You’re going back there, aren’t you?” Shel had stepped next to him barely noticed and spoken in Mirialan. It was a bit of a surprise. Both were fluent in it, but like many of the order they spoke either pure basic, or basic mixed with what remnants of Dai Bendu they still had, the majority of the time. It was rare for them to speak Mirialan unless they were with other Mirialans. It wasn’t their first language after all. Tyrenic learned basic first and Shel had told him that his first few words had been in High Sith, before learning basic at the temple. Mirialan did give them at least slightly more privacy then they otherwise might have had though, and that was appreciated, if a bit more awkward. No one would stare though. Their people were known to be a bit private and Jedi were as well. He could speak freely.

He sighed again. “I have to, Shel. I need to face it.”

Shel gently pulled at his arm ‘til he faced him. “It was not your fault. You were a child. You were not there. It is not a failure of yours. You need to let go. Remember our code.” 

Tyrenic nodded “There is no emotion, there is peace. I know Shel. But I can’t let it go. I’ve been trying. It’s the only part of my past I haven’t faced. My sisters died there, my mother almost died there. The only reason I didn’t was because Knight Riqr took me away three days before the attack. I have to go to Krosstoen. I need to face it as much as I needed to face the Coruscant Temple.” 

This time Shel sighed. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

He shook his head. He needed this closure. 

“Alright then Nic, lead the way.”

“Wait, what, you’re not coming. I didn’t ask you to..?”

“Tyrenic, you are not only my brother in the order, but one of my oldest friends. You don’t have to face this alone. Also it’s not safe to travel alone, even for a Jedi as good as you and I know you don’t want Kira seeing you break down and sob and scream... AGAIN. You’re supposed to being a good example after all.”

That almost got a laugh. “And I want you to see that?”

“I saw you after Coruscant and Leshlaa got reassigned. I know how ugly your crying is, you can’t impress me anymore.”

“Alright my friend, alright.” Tyrenic was not surprised that his friend chose to visit his childhood home with him, but he was grateful. He stepped over to the speeder droid and arranged for them to head to the mainland. Krosstoen wasn’t a sight of much fighting anymore, so they shouldn’t have too many issues. 

The journey was quick. Krosstoen wasn’t that far from the coast. And the shuttle they were using was very fast. Almost too soon they saw the ruins and, parking the shuttle near the ashes of the front gate, the men climbed out and walked into the small village. 

The buildings were in shambles, doors ripped off hinges, collapsed roofs, some burned completely. There were still bloodstains on some of the stone, even almost 2 decades later. Tyrenic wandered silently, the fear and the pain that was still held in the force here a twisted symphony that he couldn’t block out. The screams so loud, he could almost hear them. The village was small, it had only a few dozen houses, so it didn’t take long to reach the remains of his old house. He stood there staring. Only the door frame and one wall remained standing. A few broken pieces of furniture. The chest that his mother had never allowed them to touch sat open and broken. “This is it. I lived here for years. I think we moved from somewhere else before my sisters were born. I don’t have any memories, only a feeling that we lived somewhere else once.” 

Shelerik nodded “I don’t remember life before the order. I guess there’s a certain age that you start to remember things. The only impression I have of the time before is pain and yelling. You have your mother and your sisters. That sounds like a good start.”

Nic had to smile. They’d compared memories before, but he rarely went into detail. “There were the four of us. I was always trying to help everyone play, Nya would usually follow the rules, if she didn’t then she either stayed so close to them she couldn’t get in trouble or she’d have a good reason. Nat and Kael though. The youngest two were trouble makers. Nat was a bit closer to Nya though, protective and always ready to fight. Leikael, the youngest, was chaos. Always finding something to do that would send the rest of us into a panic, usually dragging Nat with her. I remember one time when some of the bigger kids were picking on one of her friends, she somehow rallied the rest of us and we all got in this massive fight. Half the kids on the street got in on it. We won though. Mom was upset, but also seemed proud. Told us we were risking our place, and everything she’d risked for us. We never did that again that I can remember. “ 

He’d moved over and placed a hand on the doorframe. 

Shelerik laughed at his story and continued watching his back. Shel was the best friend he could ask for, giving him this time. He noticed a small broken frame and picked it up. There behind the broken transparisteel was a flimsiplast portrait of him, his mother and sisters. Taken a few days before he’d gone to train as a Jedi. That was the last fragment of pain he could take and he broke screaming into the mantellian wind as he sobbed. 

Just as in the Jedi Temple, Shelerik stepped to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder and the other on his saber, facing away and letting Tyrenic cry while he kept watch for anyone trying to attack them. 

After a few minutes, Nic started to come to himself. He pulled back and shifting began his meditations. “There is no emotion, there is peace.” He repeated the mantra, the first line of his code over and over slowly. Letting it’s meaning sink into him. This emotion was powerful, but understood. He had an attachment to those he loved, and their lose hurt. ‘There is no death, there is the force.” His sisters were part of the Force now. His mother injured for life. And it was all his fault. 

“There is no emotion. There is peace.” It wasn’t his fault. He’d been seven years old. He’d been in transit to Coruscant. He’d had no training. Even if he’d been here, how could he have helped? He could have done something. Riqr or another Jedi could have done something. They had to have sensed it coming. 

“There is no emotion, there is peace.” Riqr would have believed any prompting of the Force as referring to the war, which would have gone to the bigger cities or the forts. Not a small village in the middle of nowhere. He was not at the time able to do anything. The response had been the best it could be. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his orders fault. His sisters were at peace and his mother had care. Nyaisa was as safe as a soldier could be with her training. 

And as those thoughts settled into his bones. As the repetition revealed no new information and he began to believe himself, he was able to find peace. The pain was still there, he would likely always feel it. And it would always be amplified by being here where the pain of others was so loud. And he still felt some guilt, but he understood it to be nothing more than uncontrolled pain and fear. But he could handle it. The pain and guilt and grief no longer overwhelmed him. It could no longer control him. The teachings he held so tightly too had again served him well. He reached up and squeezed Shel’s hand in thanks before rising to his feet. Folding the flimsiplast, he tucked it into his robes and stepped away from the place that was no longer any kind of home. 

As they moved through the ashes, Tyrenic noticed something gleaming slightly under a broken beam. He stepped over and fished it out, staring at it in confusion. A Mandalorian helmet? What was that doing here? The reports hadn't mentioned any mandalorians, not one. It wasn't a Mandalorian or Imperial attack. And based on what he knew, they'd never leave their helmets behind. If one had been arrested or killed, the reports would have said so. He heard his name and turned to see Shel holding a pauldron, he turned it and there etched into the metal and lingering in traces of paint was the mythasaur skull. Another piece of Mandalorian armor where it was not supposed to be. He took the pauldron and dropped both pieces into the small pack he'd brought with him. "I'll look into this later. Let's get back."

The Jedi took in the ruined town one last time before starting back. They still had a mission, and a Padawan to train, because they were totally ready for that responsibility. It wasn’t like they’d been Padawans themselves very recently. The Sith wouldn’t stop until they destroyed the galaxy, so there wasn’t room for second guessing or delaying a Padawan’s training for a Master’s mission. There was still work to be done and duties to fulfill. They would be ready, no matter what was thrown at them next.

[webcricket]

Rapture, Rupture

Characters: CastielXReader

Bat Out of Hell Lyric Prompt: #20 - “Show me I meant something.”

Word Count: 2610 (well, a drabble it ain’t)

Requested by: @morganas-pendragons

Warning: SPOILERS for 15X03 ahead! Erotica/adult content - sweet simple sexy times with a seraph on a sofa.

Summary: After Castiel stands up to Dean’s anger and misplaced blame and ultimately leaves the bunker feeling used, useless, and that no one truly cares, he seeks out the reader in order to feel a little less alone.

<<<   >>>

“Jesus, Cas!” The sight of the angel standing on your front stoop when you swing the door open to confront the intruder who woke you with his midnight pacing on the porch, the loosely folded fingers held up in a fist protruding from his sleeve dithering between doubt of disturbing you and knocking on the door, has you jumping out of your skin and slamming a hand to your heart to keep it from bounding out into the night.

It’s been awhile since you headed out on your own, a while since you last stared into the startling (and currently startled) blue of his gaze. On first blush, you aren’t sure if he looks apologetic, or if that’s just his usual expression dewy from the light drizzle of rain dampening the darkness beyond the reach of the porch lamp.

He tucks his hands into his pockets, lets his eyes fall from your face to the softly flowing flannel robe, belt loosened so that the fabric plunges and parts between breasts covered by a thin cotton tank and your trembling fingers. His focus further follows the hem tracing downward from there to float the hidden curves of your hips.

It’s there, swinging in your free grip, he spots the sawed off shot gun and your well-worn go bag brimming with gear ripped open on the floor beyond - these, the hunting accoutrements you supposedly gave up when you left the life.

You don’t appear any less vibrant to him than when he dropped you off at this very door half a year ago and bid you ‘Goodbye’ because leaving is what you said you wanted - what you believed was right for you and who was he to protest what you thought was right by bringing his feelings into light when it was clear to him you would be safer here; safer, and happier.

“Cas-” You rein in the gravitational fall of his uncharacteristically open appreciation of your scantily clad form back to the general orbit of your searching eyes. You notice when he lifts his chin, the wet gathered on his lashes seems too freshly gravid with sorrow to have anything to do with the weather- “what happened? What’s wrong?” The concern catches in your throat, cauterizes the corners of eyes with tears.

“It’s-” his voice cracks with a weight of emotion that tells you what comes next is a lie- “nothing.”

It’s not like him to lie. Not to you. You might have left the boys, left the bunker and, figuring their angel was a Team Free Will package deal, didn’t try to persuade him to join you, but you and Cas, you have an understanding you can say anything to each other; even if you haven’t been able to unpack the extent of the fondness fostered in your hearts, it’s only because you each thought it best not to further complicate the complicated nature of this life by introducing love and upping the ante of fear and loss.

You’d all lost too much already to risk bringing love into the equation.

You click the safety on the shotgun and toss in on top of the yawning duffel inside the door. Stepping sideways, you usher him in to your humble abode with a sweep of the arm. “Come in, let’s get you dry and then you can tell to me some more about nothing.”

“You’re busy-” he shuffles a single boot forward; eyes flicking to your sleep-mussed hair, he wants to enter, but hesitates- “sleeping. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“I’m awake-” leaning over the threshold you haul him in by his coat lapels muttering- “now get your angelic ass in here.”

He allows you to lug him limply inside.

Slipping your fingertips under the coat’s collar, standing near enough to study his averted blues as you do so - the red rims, the hollowness sunk below, the uncharacteristic paleness of his flesh as if someone had drained the life out of him tells you all you need to know - it’s not what happened or what’s wrong, it’s who failed him, and what isn’t right. You’ve seen him like this before, and your heart aches in echo of his anguish.

Trying not to let the fact you’re pissed off at the douche with a capital D who hurt him roughen your touch, you push up and liberate the trench from his shoulders.

“Hey-” you gently cup a palm to his jaw, rub your thumb over the scratch of stubble there until he meets your eyes- “it’s just like old times, huh? You and me free to do whatever the hell we want with no Winchesters around to keep us in line.”

Not that you ever did anything beyond share a bed and bowl of popcorn while watching Netflix.

The smallest of smiles twitches his mouth at the memory. He relished those nights with you, watching you as you slept, the bunker silent save for the reassuring rhythm of your heart and breath.

“There’s my angel.” You flash your teeth in approval at the subtle sign of relief banishing some of the fretfulness from his features. You prod the pad of your thumb in the divot of his chin. “I’d make you some coffee, but I wasn’t expecting the company. I think there’s tea though-”

You twist to gambol off in the direction of the kitchen. The firm wrap of fingers encircling your wrist staves your momentum. You turn back to him, brow furrowed.

“It’s okay, I’m fine-” he slackens his grip- “I just came to talk.”

He follows the arched invitation of your glance toward a cozy living space and sits on the sofa.

You settle in beside him, drawing your feet beneath you and letting your bent legs spill into his lap.

His regard wanders the room to walls hung with cheery landscape paintings, to brightly colored throw pillows, to shelves lined with favored books and mementos, and to a scattering of photographs on the mantel, one of you two taken outside a motel in Indiana that also happened to be home to the World’s Largest Slinky displayed prominently front and center.

“It’s nice here. Peaceful,” he says; sighing long and low, he lets the atmosphere - and your proximity - cast a soothing shroud over the struggle of these last weeks. “It reminds me very much of your room. I mean, the room you used to … the room you used at the bunker. Only brighter.” Continuing to avoid the topic of why he’s here, he rambles on, “I would assume it’s brighter because of the windows … or it would be if it were daytime.”

After a self-conscious moment spent drowning the swell of further small talk he lays a warm hand on your knee, observes the way your skin blanches then reblooms redder beneath the weight of it.

The touch is intimate, but not unprecedented. He took his time becoming comfortable with when and how to show physical affection. With you it came easier than with others; and the connection he feels - the solid heat of flesh and bone and soul - blunts the sting of emptiness encroaching on his heart.

You cover his hand with your own. Leaning forward, you swipe a stray chestnut curl behind the shell of his ear. A wistful smile quirks your lips. “I don’t think you came here to comment on my choice of decor.”

He half-turns his head to peer at you, the gloss of his blues shine as a desolate sea in the dim lamplight. “I left.”

You tease your fingers through his and squeeze tight, encouraging him to go on.

The crux of the struggle - the piece of it that crushes him most - surges in deeply graveled syllables. “Dean is angry. I’ve never seen him like this. I tried so many times to reach him, and it’s clear no matter what it once meant, or what it still means to me, our friendship has become just another burden for him to bear.”

Your fingers tense; venting annoyance forces a sharp snort through your nose - this infuriatingly big-hearted idiot of an angel is still considering Dean’s feelings, and not his own, as the priority.

And Dean. You’re done making excuses for Dean! You get his anger. You get that it’s a defense mechanism, that he’s damaged and it’s a way for him to cope when he feels everything around him spiraling out of control. The anger is how he keeps moving; adrenaline lubricates his joints in the face of paralyzing fear.

Except anger isn’t an excuse to treat your family like shit. You’re all angry. You don’t all redirect that rage at the world and lash out at your loved ones and look for someone to blame when life hurts. It’s a huge part of why you left. You were sick and tired of watching Dean hurl his fists at the people who had his back, especially the angel.

You grasp at straws. Sam has always been able to temper his brother’s rage, to make amends. “What about Sam? Does he-”

“No. I made a choice. An impulse decision to kill a demon who betrayed us before something worse rose up to threaten the world. I forced Sam to make a sacrifice he shouldn’t have had to make. I can’t ask him to go up against Dean for my sake. He’s already lost so much. They have each other. That’s enough.” His chin swings like a the slowly stalling pendulum of a clock wanting winding.

“Cas, you’ve lost too. If you did what you thought was right, I trust you had no other choice.”

The seraph stills, Dean’s wrath having worked at him, raised clouds of doubt, and fueled the fire of regret set aflame in his consciousness into a smoldering sentiment of failure during the hours long drive to your door that made him second guess himself and actually begin to believe the blame belonged solely to him. “But I did. I could’ve walked away. We could have figured it out afterward. Together, like Dean said.”

“Like Dean said!” You lurch to your feet, shouting the statement through clenched teeth, first at the ceiling, then down at an angel awe struck by your outburst on his account, “And when did Dean become dictator? How many more lives would’ve been lost? How much more sacrifice? You did what had to be done. What any of us would’ve done with our backs against the wall.”

“Y/N-” wide-eyed and earnest, he reaches out to clasp your wrist; what little strength remains of his failing grace collects into fingertips endeavoring to calm you- “That’s kind of you to say, but-”

“No ‘buts,’ I’m not saying it to be kind. It’s true.” You recognize the electric pulse of angelic power tracing in tendrils along your veins from where he grips you. It has the pacifying affect he intended - your ire toward Dean incrementally dulls with every heartbeat.

His grasp goes lax as his grace weakens and ebbs. He returns the hand to his lap and looks at it resting uselessly beside the other. “I’m tired. Tired of fighting for the people I love only to fight with them when all is said and done.” His gaze lifts, earnestly piercing yours seeking the an answer. “What kind of life is that?”

Stooping, you frame his face with your fingers, splayed tips stretching to tickle his temples. “It’s just … life. It’s not fair. It never was and it never will be. We just have to keep going and hope for the best.”

Blues swirling in resignation snap shut.

“I know they’re just words, Cas,” you apologize for the disappointingly oracular answer.

“Regardless, I appreciate you saying them. I needed to hear it.” He flattens his hands over your smaller ones to peel them from his scruffy aspect. Lashes parting, he pauses, not for the first time, to squint at the lines and scars paving the palms and place the bare caress of a kiss upon each. He’s grateful to find the landscape of them isn’t altered; and after everything he’s been through, they are, perhaps, a pair he is less willing relinquish so easily this time without exploring to what ends those trails of fate lead.

The lingering of the look and tender devotion paid does not go unnoticed by you. “You could’ve called if that’s all the comfort you needed. What else do you need, angel?”

He continues to hold on; his focus shifts to your legs where your robe gapes to reveal a slope of thigh capped in a crescent of pink lace panty. There lies the promise of a passion he never felt worthy of acting on, and yet, he has heard your prayers - the walls against angelic perception erected by humans exist as barriers nearly as thin as that lace, and more permeable.

The oppressive pain of loneliness throttling his vessel’s racing heart  craves connection. He squashes the impure thoughts through sheer will and self-deprecation at entertaining the possibility. “It’s stupid. Selfish.”

“You’re the least selfish person I know.” You shift so your knees knock against his, near enough that the still raised hands holding yours skim the supple flesh of your lower belly. “Tell me.”

“I just needed someone to-” the temptation to take the comfort you offer and the very scent of you overwhelms his senses; he starts, stops, and starts again- “need someone to-”

You slink your fingers through the halo of his hair and cup his jaw to compel his gaze - a blue blown almost to black by longing and seeped in tears - upward, “Someone to what, Cas?”

“Show me I meant something,” he sobs; lunging for your hips, he yanks you into his lap.

You straddle him with a small bounce, knees hitting the cushions as your lips crash; he silences the surprised squeak rising the rungs of your ribs to escape with the scrape of his tongue along the moist seam of your mouth. He’s already hard beneath you and here you half-thought he was diving in for a hug.

Frantic fingers rip at the thin cotton of your tank, unburdening the supple shape of breasts to bury his nose between and lay a smattering of sloppy open-mouthed kisses and Enochian praise upon the expanse of skin and upward to your neck.

He tears, too, at the fragile lace of your undies to expose the apex of your arousal. Threading a finger into your heat, he tests and teases at the walls fluttering around it in hunt for friction and fullness - the pike of calloused pleasure cultivates that coil of ecstasy from his caresses already coalescing in your belly.

A growl rattles the room as you fumble to free his belt and fly to return the favor. He lifts his hips to help you push down his pants; his vessel shudders when your fingers collar his cock through the material. The growl evolves into a groan of your name as you delve, finally, into the unfettered trove of his trousers to uncage him.

Kneading handfuls of your ass through the robe, he rocks against your soaked sex until you rise up on your knees, grip him by the base, and sink slowly onto him.

You roll with one another in rapture. As the desperation to unite gives way to a slow sensual swaying of bodies, small sighs moisten skin between kisses, and a sense of belonging - of being needed, and being exactly where you need to be - builds in so comforting a cadence, not of carnality, but of love, that neither of you hastens toward the rupturing of that bliss.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity  @afanofmanystuffs  @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx  @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @ladyofletters67 @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim   @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @x-cassiopeia @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79

[violetsystems]

#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual.  I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone.  Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody.  Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in.  The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera.  It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused.  That is when they bothered to show up.  One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions.  I’m beginning to sense a theme.  People saying they are there but not really.  Maybe the mic is muted.  Maybe you can’t see behind the screen.  All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely.  I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info.  I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account.  I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity.  It was good enough to enter China alone.  The first call that ID was sufficient.  They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided.  The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously.  I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough.  Neither was an expired driver’s license.  The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license.  I told the truth.  My ex girlfriend stole my car.  That didn’t really help the situation.  I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through.   I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week.  I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft.  The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning.  “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly.  I didn’t get mad.  I didn’t even complain.  I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up.  Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point.  Nobody seems to want to answer the video call.  The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?”  Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth.  The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative.  I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt.  But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on.  I’ve had years of failures to connect.  COVID has taught me a lot of things.  I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars.  This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before.  Sexual harassment in the workplace.  Check.  Organizational corruption.  Check.  The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened.  Check.  People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all.  Check.  Now that we’re aware.  What do we do?  How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space?  How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity?  How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about?  Why would I even bother?  

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure.  Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months.  But this is just the structural reality come to light.  Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people.  That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize.  I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me.  I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise.  I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to.  But I don’t really have an answer to anything.  I’m in the worst kind of limbo.  I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July.  Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months.  I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare.  The only times I look back is to clean up the mess.  And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy.  But the result is more of the same for me.  An extravagant “I told you so.”  I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things.  Some of them were kind of unbelievable.  Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in.  The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void.  But I can’t say the same for everybody else.  I work for myself for the time being.  It looks really nice on paper.  I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook.  But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it.  All the work we do to survive.  All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos.  All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission.  A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit.  The press follows this mentality pretty clearly.  Everybody has a hot take and a theory.   But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations.  Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience.  I guess I could be guilty of that too.  Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week.  For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention?  A lot.  I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments.  I take it all at base level as real as it gets.  You can’t build a future on speculation.  You can technically if you are in the stock market.  But risk is risk.  And money is money.  No one can be me at the end of the day.  Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself.  My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago.  The reasoning was simple.  The government did not believe I existed.  No bullshit.  A decade later nothing really has changed.  I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s.  I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.  

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face?  When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon.  I could keep telling you I told you so.  Or I could save my own ass.  And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1.  Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line.  The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth.  It hasn’t for years.  It’s built on this kind of thing.  It always has been.  And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse.  And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here.  How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore?  Not that anyone really asks me to participate.  They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages.  Is it suggestion or valid communication?  I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination.  An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight.  When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill.  Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.  None of this is good for me.  You could argue it made me the beast that I am.  But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive.  But I’m not like any normal person these days.  I refuse to admit it anymore.  They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  I have a problem.  One that it seems I cannot fix.  And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left?  Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear.  Probably pinging my old work number.  I can’t access my facebook.  Maybe that’s for the best.  I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID.  I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government.  And when does the constant gaslighting break down?  When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control.  That we are not all in this together.  Not by a longshot.  That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces.  We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive.  Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes.  Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor.  This is America.  This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light.  This shit was built this way.  And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit.  At least I can still access my Epic account.  What am I going to do for the next six months?  Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem?  I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example.  There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone.  I won’t be drunk on a zoom call.  I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something.  When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me.  Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore.  Nothing criminal.  Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually.  <3 Tim

[manofmanyvirtues]

The Pure Truth

This is my fifth acid trip and my most profound.  

July 6 at around 6:20 PM I dropped 450 micrograms of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, the week prior I had spent time cleansing my mind of anxiety in preparing for this trip by handling things in my life that needed to be handled, such as: cleaning tensions between my ex and myself, telling a few people a few things I've been meaning to, finishing up my online summer school class with most of my baggage off my chest and 4 days off from work.

I was ready to buy 3 tabs good Lucy ,which is the most I've done, today. My dealer Eric met me in my alley which is pretty stereotypical, we made the exchange, I walked inside and put it in my drug box, talked to my family, and had dinner for a few hours before receding into my room for the next 10 hours.

6:20 PM I cleared my head and dropped. We played Fortnite on my PC with my friend Jay. We played for maybe an hour and a half. An hour and I begin to feel the oh so familiar feeling of my teeth and skin, tongue began to crawl with little electric pin pricks around the same time the game began to look more and more realistic and vibrant until it began to look like my character was running in front of my face, off my screen. I was already beginning to be surrounded by the flow of everything in my visual field, I started to have trouble communicating with Jay and playing the game started becoming impossible. I remember specifically glancing down at my hand well I was using the keyboard, I saw my bones move as if my skin was nearly transparent. Everything around me became vibrant began to shimmer. I knew that in was in for a big one. By now I manage to mutter: I'm gonna have to lay down to J, before logging off covering myself with blankets on my bed.  

Around 8:00 PM I put on Grateful Dead Station. Since it’s the middle of summer, the sun had not completely set yet and the low Star cast deep yellowish and orange streaks through my blinds and onto my walls, as I lay there completely invested in the music and still coming up fast, my walls and carpet and blinds began dancing with the music. There were waves on the ceiling and rhythm with the song surrounding my vision. If I were to look closer in anything, I could see every individual particles making up the object for instance. I could see every cell in my hand in every thread of my blankets. I listen to the whole album and then after it finished put on Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon”. I remember half way through the oven my body began to vibrate with the sound. There's no way of articulating this feeling, but the sounds are quite literally a part of my touch, I could feel each individual sound holster my body to accompany it some kind of visual would pop up in front of me.  

Up until this point my psychedelic journey this was as far as I'd ever managed to dose. Far as I ever got. I managed to always dose myself low enough to make my physical being and perception feel completely bizarre and alien but I never managed to go deeper. I think this is far as most people go and... But I knew there was something more to be known. I wanted to go into the places that I heard Terence McKenna and Alan Watts talking about... I never saw The Light, The Profound, The Other, The Unspeakable. On one trip prior I remember feeling the very beginnings of my ego dissolving but nothing more. This trip was different. This overwhelming sense of understanding began to build from the moment I started tripping, so after doing trivial things like watching the walls become great city scapes or watch the ceiling fan melt into the floor, which I've done plenty of on trips prior, I decided that this was still coming on stronger by the minute and I thought my ego begin to dissolve.  

By now it's around 1:30 AM and completely dark outside. Turn off all the lights in my room and put on my headphones, began listening to binaural beats for meditation. Leading up to now I had subconsciously felt that there was some sort of struggle in my mind. My internal voice became frantic, asking questions that I've never asked before, giving answers that made sense in a way I can explain. I felt every part of my life be taken away from me one by one, my ego and everything that I had built for 17 years up until this point begin disappearing. In their place my ego was pure understanding and being. A lost memory of my mother, myself of any of my friends, of anything I ever cared about I became nothing while simultaneously I was everything. I remember feeling my body dissolve into my blanket, then into my bed, then into everyone and everything I've ever known. I become the universe.

I felt all things began to piece by piece decide that this was it - that this is the answer - that this is all I am meant to do is experience simply and in complete balance. I understood that the ultimate state of being is to understand that there's nothing to understand, and up until this point I had tried with everything I had to make sense of things on a daily basis and refused to believe that the answer was so simple. The whole time I was presented with amazing visuals of vast impossible landscapes, as if I was eye with no body. Far off places with tall mountains and planets and multiple places at once, streaks of color I've never seen before. Snakes slithering into each other and plants growing infinitely, spinning constantly changing flowers and list geometry and impossible shapes that don't exist in our reality.  

And I was suddenly cast into an endless corridor of beautifully colored faces (google Alex Grey's art to get an idea of what I'm talking about). The space roared with noise and archetypal symbolism. I saw every religion symbolism from every culture, I saw the father and I saw the mother, I saw the Yin and Yang in the form of 2 clouds of smoke - one white and one black - colliding with each other but never becoming gray. I came face to face with fear and bad intentions personified, I saw all things that drive everything in the universe, I saw the rule book of life. I knew that this presence was the universal consciousness or God or whatever you wanna call it. He was there with me. It showed me the beauty of Roxbury and it's faces and lists of beautiful perfectly symmetrical hallways and faces. I got the sense that these faces were meant to show me that the human form is purposeful. The face is designed by something we don't understand thrust into our physical reality through the evolution of life on Earth. I get the feeling that I am something immensely special.  

Message at this point was to shut up, stop worrying and listen. It showed me that the universe created life of nothing, it showed me that our only purpose is to understand. We look for peace and material and relationships but it never occurs to us how amazing it feels, how amazing it is to feel nothing. Then the trip became slightly sinister and joking with me. They began to play a sad song and were showing me a man in the fetal position searching for relief in our physical world that he finds, that he only finds after death. I was shown this for what seemed like eternity, I remember the words bouncing around: “It's all a joke, this is all a big play can't you see monkey that you have no clue what we are doing?”. At the time I was not at all scared instead in awe and curious as to what was meant by all of this.  

By now in the trip I have little recollection of my physical body, but I remember experiencing this beautiful blissful connection to everything and in the distance of my mind hearing myself cry. I felt my body convulse and cry as I was charged with this pure truth and understanding. I had no more connection to anything in my everyday life instead I am just enveloped by love, by bliss, and simultaneously by hate, by chaos, everything was there -  so nothing was. I realize now that this isn't all a big joke, less more of a big metaphor, the game to become good at.  

You get to choose which you make your purpose in this life. And spend every day working at it or you can minimize from every day it get used to be fed what to do by society. Either way you'll return to nothing so doesn't matter in the end - but it really matters now - now is all we will ever experience in this life. After this  enlightening and completely amazing experience I began piecing my life back together one thing at a time. I looked at old pictures and try to text a few friends to ground myself again.

At 2:45 AM I took 2 sleeping pills and I don't remember much after 3:30 AM. My next memory is waking up at 9:30 trying  to piece together what the the fuck happened last night. I got up, ate some fig newtons, drank a glass of water, and was sober but mind-blown for the rest of the day. It was beautiful and terrifying and completely invaluable to me having integrated this experience for a month and some change. My life has taken on a new meaning. I'm immensely more relaxed and confident in everything I do. The universe has a large of a larger purpose for me so I need to just do my part in the play with the big experiment of life on Earth as best I can. I played much more music since and can feel other musicians music in a way I never have before. It all feels so personal now. I think this trip represents one more huge step towards me becoming the best version of myself. I haven’t tripped since and probably won't for awhile, because this was the single most life changing trip of my life. And at the moment I don't feel the need to heal myself any further.

Credit: This World (Youtube)

[karaliswrites]

No One But You

I read A Separate Peace awhile ago and finally managed to write a fanfic.  Probably some spoilers for those who haven’t read the book

~~~~~

Finny reminded Gene of summer.  Of course, his appearance consisted of sun-kissed skin and golden waves and some feeling like the coast of California.  Gene had never been to California.  But he figured if Finny were to be any state, he’d be California.  His smile was radiant as the rays of the sun, his green eyes shimmered like jewels with gold flakes sprinkled across them.  His laugh was light and airy and the way he walked seemed like water, smooth and flowing and never interrupted.  Everything about him was light and sunshine and summer.

But it wasn’t just his looks that seemed like summer to Gene.  It was also his personality.  His spontaneity, his exuberance.  Everything.  Everything was summer.

Gene considered himself to be winter, not only due to the cooler tones of his complexion or the edge to his personality, but also because of how opposite he was to Finny.  They were of different natures, different worlds almost, and so Gene thought he must’ve been winter.  

He had once told Phineas about how he thought of him as summer and he didn’t ask what he meant.  And he had replied that he thought of Gene as winter which further confirmed his beliefs.  But some small part of him was a bit uneasy at the fact that Finny also thought of him as winter.  That only proved how different they were.  Never would they be of the same caliber.  Gene was in a separate hemisphere, across the world from wherever Finny shone, shivering in his frozen prison.  He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve Phineas.  He didn’t think anything he could ever do would make him worthy of seeing just one of his smiles.  Of hearing his laugh for even a moment.

And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, his heart had flipped one day when he and Finny were walking along in the snow, the blond’s breath coming out labored and heavy as he tried to move with his crutches.  Gene always knew he was exhausted just getting from place to place, but he never brought it up.  Finny would’ve just denied it anyways.  Then he had said that he loved the winter and Gene felt his ears heat.  “What do you mean?” he had asked before he could stop himself.  He knew surely his interpretation of Finny’s words was wrong and disgusting and of course someone like Phineas would never feel such a thing for someone like him.  “What do you mean, what do I mean?  I love winter.  That’s what I mean.  And when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Gene then and he felt his heart flip again as he met green eyes, seeming brighter now against the pale landscape.  But he shook the thought from his head that perhaps he really was winter and fell into step beside him as they continued towards their destination.

Gene wasn’t sure which version of Finny he enjoyed more.  In the summer session, he was free and glowing with the sort of light only he could possess.  He had been breathtaking.  And despite the guilt gnawing at Gene’s conscience ever waking moment because of the incident, he thought Finny had been oddly beautiful in the winter session as well.  He stood out against the whites and greys of the world around them, whereas Gene blended in.  And although he had been restrained by his injury, his eyes had seemed brighter, his smile warmer.  He still brought summer even on the coldest winter day.  

Phineas had always appreciated all around him and he had his own way of doing so.  In the summer, it was sports and the tree and the river and the air.  The sun and the sky and the grass.  Anything and everything.  But when winter rolled around, it became the elms and the snow and the frost and the cold.  And with his injury, he couldn’t enjoy it as much as he used to.  But he still somehow found a way to admire the world and everything it held and Gene had no idea how he could do it.  It seemed to him that almost everything was against him, so unlike him, during the winter session, but it didn’t seem to phase Finny in the slightest.

It was during one of these winter days that they were in their dorm just after supper.  Gene was wrapped in a thick blanket, studying French for an upcoming test.  Finny had been quiet since they got to the room and at first Gene thought he must’ve been working on something for class or had simply fallen asleep.  But when he had looked up from his studying after half an hour, he found him lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  He almost said something, but he wasn’t sure what to say, so he just went back to his work.

“Hey, Gene?” he asked after a few more minutes of silence and he looked up and across the room.  “Yes, Finny?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever feel like you’re . . . different . . . than other people?”

Gene blinked and shifted in his chair.  “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“I mean,” he breathed, sitting up in bed and running a hand through dirty blond hair.  “Is there some part of you that really wants something, but it’s not something you should want?”

He felt his pulse quicken, but tried to ignore wishful thinking.  He thought about what to say, about what Finny wanted him to say, but he didn’t know.  So he decided to just be honest.  “Yeah.  I think I know what you mean.”

Green eyes looked at him then and he didn’t blink, feeling if he so much as moved those eyes would see right through him.  “And you just . . . you’re goddamn scared, but you still feel like somehow everything will be alright?  You feel so vulnerable, but protected at the same time?”

Finny’s expression seemed like he was confusing even himself, so Gene forced a smile.  “You’re being rather vague,” he said and Finny chuckled.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  I know what I mean I just . . . don’t know how to explain it.”

A silence fell over them before Gene cleared his throat.  “Say, why don’t we listen to some music?” he suggested and Finny gave him a smile which he was thankful for.  “Sure.”

He stood and moved to the radio, switching it on.  He saw a certain heaviness on Finny’s shoulders, but he tried to ignore it.  Maybe a little jazz could loosen the tightness of his muscles.

When music flowed from the radio, it was slow and soft and gentle.  “Should I try to find some jazz?” he asked and to his surprise, Finny was quick to answer “No.”

He glanced at him over his shoulder to see green eyes staring at him.  “Leave it on this.”

Gene swallowed and began to walk back to his bed when he heard a shuffling from Finny’s side of the room.  He turned around to see the blond on his feet, wobbling before catching his balance.  “Finny, what are you doing?” he asked, feeling his heart wrench with worry.  “I want to dance.”

“What?”

“I want to dance,” he said again with a large grin.  

“But, Finny, you’re leg, you — you can’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” he protested.  The blond limped over to him with that lopsided smile that made Gene’s stomach somersault.  “Ah, you worry too much,” he said, standing before him.  “Besides, Stanpole says it’s nearly healed, anyway.”

“But, Finny, what if you —”

“C’mon, Gene,” he interjected, slipping a hand over his waist and Gene gasped softly.  “Dance with me.”

Brown eyes looked nervously up into green and he couldn’t resist the glimmer there, the way that smile lay so gently on his lips.  So he glanced down to their feet, feeling his cheeks flush pink.  Finny took his hand in his own and Gene placed the other on his shoulder.  They began to sway to the music and at first, Finny found it a bit difficult to find his rhythm with his cast and Gene had been worried, but he had simply laughed it off.  But then he evened out and they were dancing.  They waltzed a bit awkwardly for a few songs, but then they began to slow and Gene allowed himself to lean his head against Finny’s, feeling the blond wrap his arms around his waist.  He slung his own around his neck, their bodies pressing together as they swayed.  Gene shut his eyes as they moved, taking in Finny’s scent and running his fingers through the hair at his nape.

He wanted to stay in the moment forever.  He wanted to always be able to hold Finny close like he could now, breathe him in and feel his warmth.  “Hey, Gene?” he said barely above a whisper, his breath tickling his ear and his neck.  He pulled away enough to look at him, his throat going dry at the look in green eyes.  “Yes?” he mumbled and suddenly Finny’s lips met his.  Seasons collided, ice mixing with sunshine, warmth meeting cold.  Gene felt the world around them fall apart and disappear before returning, reassembling in indistinguishable pieces as Finny pulled away, leaving his lips frozen without summer heat.

They stared at each other for a moment before a wide grin graced Finny’s features and Gene couldn’t help mimicking him, giggling softly.  And as the song faded to the start of a new one, they continued to dance.

[sunflowerheartwriting]

Dragonic 16

A/N: This chapter was actually so long i had to break up into two parts! That next part will be posted next week since i have to edit it! :D thank you guys so much for staying with me, even with my crazy update schedule!! Of course you can read on FF.net and AO3! 

With the weeks flying by, the two settled into a comfortable routine, neither of them ready to talk about their feelings. Levy would read in his office when her chores were done, while he looked over paperwork. More often than not, she would get curious with what he was doing and would ask if she could help. He would bounce ideas and solutions off of her, the two not holding back whenever it came to a debate whenever they disagreed. Lily would just lay and observe the two with an amused smile, not in any hurry to add his own opinion. Close to the end of the day, they would resume their tutoring before retiring to their own rooms.

This day seemed like any other as Levy straightened the King’s office, putting papers in the right files before wiping down his desk. The sound of tinkling, metal lightly bumping into each other was her first indication that someone was entering the library. She looked over to Lily, who was now sitting up in a relaxed manner, his tail swishing lazily. Guessing that someone familiar was approaching them and not an enemy, eased her worry.

But, Gajeel walking in clad head-to-toe in his armor was not what she expected. She observed him with a raised brow and small smirk, drinking every last inch of him in. For some reason, he looked way hotter in his armor than she remembered. The black and gold metal was polished, so was the sword that was strapped to his hip, his right hand resting lazily on the golden handle.

“I haven’t seen you wear that since the first time we met.” She said, leaning her hip on the edge of the desk. “Why is that?”

“You like what you see, eh?” He teased, earning a light blush and a shrug. She very much did like what she sees, but she wasn’t going to outright admit it, but she knew he knew. Chuckling, he stepped towards her, his form seeming a lot bigger and more regal like the King he was. “I wanted to seem less intimating as possible, while you were getting used to your new surroundings. Plus, this thing gets pretty hot in the summer time.”

“So, why are you wearing it now?”

“Because we’ve been stuck inside for weeks now, and need to get out, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He declared taking her hand, pulling her lightly away from the desk as if coaxing her to follow him. She did without question, their hands still held tightly together as he led her to his room.

She looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what exactly they were doing outside his door. As if reading her mind, he spoke, “get dressed, Lily and I will be waiting for you out here.” He opened the door for her, nudging her in with a slight push on her lower back.

Taking the steps needed into his room she was instantly entranced by the light pink piece of fabric that seemed out of place on the black comforter. When the door closed with a click, she stripped out of her maid uniform, before putting on the off the shoulder pink dress. Smoothing out the knee length skirt, she admired the little white flowers that decorated the surface reminding her of daisies. Switching out her black ribbon for the white one that matched the strappy sandals that lay on the bed, she felt an uneasy feeling taking over her.

This is wrong, so wrong. She didn’t deserve any of the things he was giving her. His love, attention, and trust. Not when she was unsure of what she wanted to do with her own feelings, whether that was bottling them or telling him everything. What will she do when he finally did get the confidence to express his feelings? Reject him? No, to reject a King would be foolish and suicidal. Any other ruler would have a girls head on a platter if they denied their advances, but Gajeel’s different. If she did reject him, he wouldn’t hurt her.

A sad smile curled her lips at the thought of knowing he’ll do the opposite. He would probably try to woe her and earn her affection….even though he already has it.

Taking a few hesitant footsteps with these thoughts swirling in her mind, she took a deep breath, steeling herself to open the door. His broad back was facing her, the sound of the door opening wider causing him to turn around. With wide eyes and a blush as pink as her dress, he took her in, Levy shifting uneasily under his gaze. Wringing her fingers, she asked, “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he whispered in the common tongue, loud enough for her to hear, getting a wide smile in return. A soft growl made her look down at the feline, Lily approving of her appearance.

Taking the arm he held out, she wrapped her hand around his armored bicep. “Where are we going?” She asked, as he led them out of the castle and towards the waiting carriage.

“Gotta make a few stops in town and thought we would do them instead of one of the errand boys. Plus, Wendy made me some more motion sickness medicine, so I’m all fit for a little travel.” He waggled his pierced eyebrows, Levy giggling at the sight.

She sat across from Gajeel with Lily resting his head in her lap as she peered out the window watching the castle grounds pass by opening up for the town’s landscape. They first stopped at the hospital, Levy happy to hear that the patients treatments were progressing smoothly. As they were leaving, a wagon pulled up, some of Gajeel’s men bringing in the freshly washed linen, Porlyusica directing them where to take it as she met them at the door.

They made a few more stops at the town hall to deliver papers, farmers market to check up on this year’s produce, and the trader’s hall. Levy was at first nervous, knowing the rumors that were circling her sudden appearance in town, but there were a lot more welcoming people than she thought. Not everyone was against her she realized, as she was fawned over by the women at the farmers market. She felt like a little kid going to grandma’s house as they pinched her cheeks, told her how pretty she was and disproving of how skinny she was. They tried to give her fruits and vegetables as presents loading anything they could grab into her arms. Declining wasn’t an option, so a basket full of produce was what they left with when they went on to the next stop.

When they were leaving the trader’s hall, Levy couldn’t keep her eyes off of Gajeel a faint smile curling her lips.

“What?” he questioned, with suspicious squinted eyes. “What’s with that look?”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face. “You’re a very good King; you care about your people and it shows by how much they trust and respect you. I don’t really know what I expected when you told me we were going to do some of the errands, but I’m glad it was better than I could imagine.”

To be honest, she expected some of the people to be afraid of him or cower from his gaze, but it wasn’t like that at all. Everyone welcomed him with open arms, a slap on the back or a kiss to the cheek.

Whenever someone expressed their concerns he listened intently, giving them his full attention, before giving them a solution or saying he’ll figure out way to help them. It was a big shock, but she was glad he wasn’t perceived as a monstrous king.

His cheeks tinted a light pink as he thanked her, clearing his throat from the embarrassment of her praise. “My father taught me everything I needed to know to be a good ruler. He was even harder around the edges than I am, but he was still a great leader. Always there to lend an ear, no matter how small the problem.”

With them back in the carriage, Levy rubbed Lily’s head as she observed the melancholy look on Gajeel’s face. “Do you miss him?”

A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head back admiring the ceiling with sudden interest. “I do. Some days are harder than others,” he admitted, “but, lately it’s been easier now that I have a little fairy bossing me around.”

Levy lightly kicked his shin earning a soft chuckle from him. “I am not bossy,” she murmured, as she turned to look out the window attempting to hide her blush. She was ready to give him another smart retort when something caught her eye, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she leapt closer to the window.

“Is that a bookstore?” she squealed, watching as the building slowly went out of sight to be dwarfed by the other buildings.

A hard knock on the ceiling caused her to turn her attention away from the window and towards Gajeel, feeling the carriage slow to a stop.

“I almost forgot,” he hummed more to himself, thanking the guard as he opened the door for them. “I want you to meet someone.”

Levy wrapped her hand around his arm instinctively, as he led them to the bookstore, her interest peaking as her attention bounced between him and the building. The bell above the door announced their presence as Gajeel opened the door wider so she could walk in first. The soft playing of classical music and faint smell of cinnamon tickled her nose as she observed the store with wide eyes. The inside was bigger than the outside presumed, with the walls lined with books and a few short bookshelves. A few couches and chairs circled a coffee table in the middle of the room, a couple of novels on display for anyone willing to take interest.

“Gajeel! Lily!” A croaky voice exclaimed, rounding the checkout counter. “My! My! Look at you two!” A short old man, dressed in a brown sweater and pants with glasses hanging around his neck approached them with open arms. Levy was stunned to hear Dragonic spoken so smoothly from a regular person, but if he knows Gajeel then there’s no way he’s an ordinary person.

“Mr. Maki,” Gajeel embraced the old man, bending slightly to accommodate for the height. “It’s been awhile haven’t it?”

“You’re a busy man, I can’t fault you for that. Now who is this young lady you have with you?” He asked, putting his glasses on leaning in closer to inspect Levy features. She was still in shock that she almost missed Gajeel introducing them to each other.

“This is Levy McGarden. Levy, this is Mr. Maki. He was one of my father’s closest friends and he used to let me stay here whenever my dad did business in town. I was a huge brat and I’m still surprised he let me stay here.”

The old man dismissed him with a wave, “ah, you were nothing compared to your father. If I could handle him, I could handle anyone.”

The feeling of familial warmth radiated from the two, as if the time the two hasn’t seen each other was nothing but a few days. And if what she read about Metalicana was correct, then this man being a close friend of his was very special and also explains why he speaks the language so well. The former King rarely trusted anyone besides his family and she could swear she read that name before or some form of it.

A guard walking in, interrupted their moment as he stood in the doorway with a bow. Gajeel sighed, clasping the man lightly on the shoulder, “I have one more stop to make, but is it ok if my friend roam around your shop?”

“Any friend of yours, is a friend of mine. You go now and bring us back some dumplings from Yajima’s. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see your face as well.” Gajeel agreed, shooting Levy a wink before leaving with the guard.

Levy turned to the old man that was a few inches shorter than her with him hunched over slightly, a wide smile curling his lips. “I never thought he would be bring a girl over the next time he visited, much less the one that was rumored to be his mistress.” He spoke switching back to the common language.

Her heart sank and her smile dropped at his words. How much has he heard and what exactly does he believe? Does he believe everything he’s heard?

The old man let out a raspy chuckle patting her shoulder. “Don’t worry, child. I don’t believe a word those gossipers say. What I believe is what I see and I see that Gajeel loves you, especially since he brought you here. Quite funny that he would fall in love with his old tutor’s daughter, though.”

“You knew my father?” her voice was shaky as she searched the old man’s eyes. When he nodded, she felt like all the air was released from her body as she leaned forward on a chair for support. Her mind was in even more shambles as she absent-mindly walked around the chair to plop down in it. “How-How do you know him?”

The old man took a seat across from her, Lily stretching out beside her. “I wasn’t just Gajeel’s father old friend; I was his academic advisor. I was the one who suggested your father tutor Gajeel.”

“My father tutored Gajeel? I-I didn’t know. Why didn’t he tell me?”

The old man gave her a sympathetic smile, his eyes softening at her shocked gaze. “Maybe he thought you weren’t ready to know or he was just so entranced by your beauty that he forgot.” Levy’s attention switched back to him, laughing lightly at his suggestion. She knew he said it to make her smile, and she was grateful.

Maybe he really did forget to mention it, especially with Lullaby plaguing the kingdom. How could she be upset with him for putting his attention on more important matters, like the health of his people?

“Can you tell me anything you remember about him? About my father.”

Rubbing the gray stubble on his chin, the old man reclined back in his seat pondering for a few moments before telling her everything he could remember. Her father always gushed about his intelligent daughter, showing anyone willing a picture of the little blue haired girl. He was very good at his job, one of the best even and was the prime choice to tutor the very stubborn prince Gajeel and many others. Any job invitation he got that was too far away from his family, he respectively declined, his reasoning not wanting to be away from his wife and daughter for too long.

“They grow up so fast and I want to be there for everything she experience, before it’s too late.” Mr. Maki said mimicking her father’s voice, making her eyes water, a goofy smile on her face.  

“That’s sounds like something he would say. I only knew him as my father and always wondered what type of man he was as a professional. I did see him work with the kids in our town, but I never got to see him when he was serious.” Wiping a stray tear that fell, she thanked him with a bow of her head.

“No need to thank me. Your father was very kind and I’ll be happy to tell you more, whenever I remember them. Your memory fades with old age, you know.” Standing up with a loud pop of his stiff joints and a groan, the old man chuckled exclaiming, “sounds worse than it is. I’m going to get us some tea and sweets. We have much to discuss.” He declared before disappearing into the back of the store which she guess housed a small kitchen and office.

Lily stretched with a yawn, telling Levy he’ll be back. “Need to use the litter box?” The look Lily shot her clearly saying, ‘how dare you?’ caused a bubble of laughter to erupt from her chest.  

“I do not use a litter box. I am not some domesticated house cat.” He growled out with an irritated swish of his tail.

Raising her hands in defeat she laughed, “I apologize, and please carry on.” Lily left with a huff out the front door, using his mouth to turn the doorknob.

Deciding to stretch her legs too, Levy took to walking around the bookstore observing the array of genres and languages of books the old man carried. She was thoroughly impressed but not surprised by the range of his selection. Mentally, she took notes on the books she would like to borrow from the old man, the next time they came.

The door opening and closing with a soft click, made Levy put the book she was holding back on the shelf. “Lily, that was fast. I thought you-oh, I’m sorry.” She spoke peaking her head from behind one of the shelves, expecting to see Lily, but meeting two men instead. They looked sickly pale, with sweat coating their skin and snot running out of their nose only for them to sniffle it back in. They were both skinny, but looked strong enough to handle their own and by the look of their dirt covered overalls and boots she guessed they were farmers.

Either way she welcomed them while Mr. Maki was busy, “Welcome, is there anything I can help you guys with?”

A/N: fun story (not really): i went to my twin sister's baby shower and her husbands family is HUGE!!! I come from a very small family so it was fun and overwhelming to have all these old ladies fawning over me. They thought i was in high school and was surprised that i was 23 >.< (They thought i was the baby sister) All that's to say is that i thought levy needed some ally's in the town and needed some old ladies to fawn over her too! but i got lots of cookies instead of produce! :D

[briamichellewrites]

95

jaydejohnsoninsta: Back on the road again, feeling kinda lonely

And looking for the right guy who'd be mine

Friends say I'm crazy 'cause easily I fall in love

"You gotta do it different J, this time"

Mike was getting used to living in the apartment. He was getting to know some of the other recovering addicts while hanging out downstairs. His favorite activity to do during his downtime? Art. He drew whatever he could think of and it relaxed him. It made him remember why he had gotten into art in the first place. Outside of music, art was his passion and he hoped to be able to share it with Cheyenne when she was old enough.

Even if she just scribbled in crayon. He would hang it up proudly. Sometimes he drew whatever caught his attention. He liked going outside and soaking up the warm air with his paper and crayons. The crayons made him feel like a little kid again. He remembered drawing at the kitchen table with his little brother, Jason, and one or both of their parents watching them.

Daddy, look what I made! He was honored to have shared his childhood with his little brother. They had different personalities but they were best friends. He was so proud of him. Jason worked as a landscape architect and was able to travel all over the world. They had lost contact due to his drinking. He hoped that they would be able to mend things, so he could be an uncle to Cheyenne. When was the last time they talked? It had been awhile.

They had gotten into a fight over his drinking. He felt his little brother was walking away from him out of embarrassment when he was walking away in anger. He was supposed to be the older brother and a role model. Instead, he was a drunk. Why can’t you stay sober, Mike?

“You have everything right in front of you! You just don’t see it!”

“You don’t get it!”

“Of course, I don't get it! You haven’t told me anything!”

“Forget it!”

“Fuck you, Mike!”

It was after that fight, he went to the bar and started drinking to get his mind off of his brother. To get his mind off of everything. Unfortunately, that decision to drink ended up with him getting arrested. They hardly fought, so he missed him. Their parents were working on mending their relationship. He had tried reaching out but had received no reply.

All he wanted to do was to look his little brother in the eyes and say he was sorry. He was sorry for hurting him with his drinking and for not being the older brother he deserved. That’s all he wanted. He didn’t want empathy or compassion. If he was still angry and if he needed time, he would understand.

Jay, it’s me. During one of his sessions, he called him with his counselor sitting in a chair on the other side of the table. He was anxious as the phone rang on the other end. Part of him wanted to hang up but he knew he had to overcome his impulse to end the call before it even began. Jason finally answered after the third ring, which felt like an eternity. Mike.

The first thing he did was apologize. He had written down everything he wanted to tell him before making the call but he didn’t even need the piece of paper because everything came pouring out of him like water. When he was done, he waited for him to say something. Anything. Even if he told him to go fuck himself and he wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Seconds. Minutes. Jay? Finally, he heard him talking. Where are you? Are you in rehab again?

“I was. Now I’m in sober living while continually getting treatment.”

“Why? I just want to know why.”

Depression. Loneliness. He was grieving his stillborn baby and he was lost. When was he going to ask for help? He didn’t. That was the problem. He self-medicated with alcohol and sex with men and women. Did he know the reason why he was so angry? He had been at the bar that night and he had watched him drinking while going into the bathroom with different men.

He was angry because he had watched the person he looked up to the most destroying himself. It wasn’t about what he was doing in the bathroom. It was about him getting drunk. It was about him getting behind the wheel of his car and driving off. If he was there, why didn’t he come over? He didn’t want to get arrested for beating his ass. That was how angry he was. He also was conflicted because he didn’t know whether he should have called their parents.

“You were supposed to be sober! Do you know how worried I was that you would kill yourself when you drove off? I was so happy to see that you were arrested because I knew you were alive! Do you know how fucked up that is? How are you going to stay sober?”

“My daughter. I’m going to be a father.”

What? He told him everything about his affair and how his daughter was going to most likely be deaf. That was another reason why he was calling. He wanted him to meet his niece when he was ready. What was her name? Cheyenne Aya Shinoda. Her due date was fast approaching. Did mom and dad know? Yeah, they did. They were not happy initially but they were going to welcome their granddaughter because it wasn’t her fault.

At the end of their conversation, he agreed to attend family therapy with him. Thank you. They then said I love you before hanging up. How was he feeling?

“I think that Jason and I will be able to gradually work things out. I have a lot of work to do.”

He still had anger towards him, rightfully so. Hopefully, he would be able to address that anger in therapy with him. He would allow him to say anything he wanted because he needed to hear it.

Yeah, well. Fuck him! Kristin sighed as they both sat on the couch. She hadn't known that Kevin had a girlfriend and she had accidentally revealed the truth. I’m sorry. She accepted her apology. How was she doing otherwise? Was she dating anyone? No, she decided to not get into a relationship. Could she ask why? She was too independent for a boyfriend and she didn’t want to be with one guy. How many guys did she have? She had to count them.

“About three that I rotate. One is serious but not serious enough to be my boyfriend.”

“Uh… you know about being careful?”

“Yeah. I’ve been tested.”

“Ok. How do you rotate through them? Do you just text them?”

“Yeah. I see if they’re busy, they invite me over and they let me stay for a couple of days. Right now, I’m kind of homeless. I say kind of because I don’t have my place but I'm not on the street, either.”

The more Kristin talked to her, the more she wanted to take her under her wing. Though she also had no idea what the hell was going through her head. She talked about hooking up with random men like it was nothing. Maybe she was too old to understand or she just didn’t get hookup culture in general. She was raised to be with one man. Unfortunately, that hadn’t worked out for her as she was single and five months pregnant.

She had been in a relationship that hadn’t worked out. After the breakup, she discovered she was pregnant. She and her ex-boyfriend agreed to share custody and co-parent their son. Do you have any female role models? She had a stepmother but they weren’t close. Kristin asked if she could be that mother figure for her. Did she know what she was getting herself into? No, but she was willing to learn.

“Ok, I agree. Thanks!”

“You are welcome!”

They shared a side hug. Later, after she left, Kevin stopped by with his girlfriend, Samantha. He laughed when he saw her face. Jayde? She nodded and told him that she was about to drive over and kick his ass. That made him laugh more.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @jovichic-bonjovi4ever @borhap-au @beneathashadytree @duffs-shot-glass @geo-winchester

[mayor-dot]

hi guys! quick update time!

even though my queue is never empty, you may have noticed that i haven’t uploaded anything original in awhile. there’s a few reasons for this, the main ones being that i’m busy with school and that i haven’t played happy home designer in some time. school has been kicking my butt. i am a visual arts major and am most focused on creating the best pieces i can! so i can only focus heavily on animal crossing on my time off. that, and i haven’t been playing hhd because i have been playing acnl! a few weeks ago i started playing acnl again and i recently started to take my town more seriously to get it to look the best i can make it. this includes making all my patterns myself, landscaping, moving in and out villagers, doing interior work and all that fun stuff without hacking to speed things up. it’s been a lot of fun so far. so what i was thinking is that instead of waiting until my town is done to post screenshots, i thought i would post some updates in the meantime! i’m going to start a little diary on here with screenshots of my town’s progress to keep this blog’s original content more consistent. i don’t know how active i will be, but i will try my best. that, and i may always post some ac art i do or any other projects i come up with. (possibly starting a ko-fi for sketches as well?) this blog means a lot to me and all of you guys do too, so i want to be as active as i possibly can be at this time. wow this was longer than i expected, anyways, thanks for reading i hope you look forward to seeing my original content again! -ella tl;dr: i haven’t been posting original content due to being busy, but i will be posting some in doses as often as i can from now on of the progress on my acnl town.

[island-delver-go]

A wake up call from George Godwyn

For going on two years now, I have been following several Donald Trump groups, alt right groups, and just general far right reactionary groups. I have seen these groups grow from 500 or a thousand people to 20,000, 30,000, 50,000, 100,000, and more. One particularly grotesque example is almost half 1 million. There are more, I’ve lost track.

When I joined them, I felt like something was changing, something new was happening, and I wanted to try and understand it. (As well as for an occasional laugh, it would be fruitless for me to deny that now.) Of course, it was fucking appalling. But I kept watching. I knew Trump would win the primary long before most people thought it was a possibility on the basis of what I saw in these groups. I’ve become familiar with memes and tropes and ideas common in the groups and I think I’ve gotten a fairly good grip on the culture. I’ve been pretty accurate in my predictions regarding the Trump and the hard right over this period of time, other than his victory in the general election. Because of these groups.

Since that time, when the subject of Trump, or the alt right, or neo-Nazis in conversation, sometimes I will suggest to my friends, people on the left, that they join a trump group or an alt right group, to see what’s going on in them. And I can’t remember one time offhand when the person I was talking to thought it was a good idea. (If I’m wrong, if I’m forgetting, feel free to correct me, but I can’t remember anyone wanting to.) My memory is that, to a person, anyone I know on the left who has heard the suggestion has expressed feelings somewhere in a range between lack of interest to horror, generally tending towards the latter.

So the other day I wake up to my feed full of people angry about the New York Times profile of the Ohio Nazi, Tony Hovater. I read the piece and it just seems like a profile of a Nazi to me. Completely unsurprising or notable in any way, other than its correlation with my own experience. I thought it was very well done.

Then I started reading my friend’s posts about the article, articles about the article. Apparently everyone is angry about the normalization of the Nazi in the piece.

Hey, guys. Hey, as someone who’s been watching this shit for two fucking years, here’s a little wake up, You really don’t have to worry about the New York Times normalizing Nazis because it’s too fucking late. THIS SHIT IS NORMAL NOW.

Like I said, for two years I’ve been telling people to join a Trump group, watch a Nazi website, do something to keep yourself familiar with this shit, and for two years I’ve been watching everyone ignore that advice and then act surprised when Nazis happen. Guys, THEY’RE HAPPENING. If the Times profile bothered you, if you were surprised that the Times would print something so bland about a Nazi, you just haven’t caught up to where we are. There’s just no way you would be surprised if you were really familiar with real world, ground-level, political landscape of 2017. It was spot on perfect, in execution and conception. You’re angry because you wanted the Times to treat the Nazi as though he were abnormal, but he just isn’t. You want to read about Nazis leading some sort of twilight existence, on the cultural outskirt, but THAT’S NOT WHERE THEY ARE. The New York Times didn’t normalize that Nazi. He’s normal. Journalists can’t hyperventilate at every Joe Dokes with a swastika poster, anymore. Normal people are Nazis, now. It was a perfect, accurate representation of the ordinariness, the commonness, of contemporary white nationalism and authoritarianism. It’s exactly where America is at, and if you don’t get that, you really need to.

They’ve come in and out of the libertarian group I run, they’re all over the far right pages. The people who actually call themselves Nazis are the minority, of course, and most of the people in the Donald Trump groups wouldn’t dream of referring to themselves as Nazis, right now, but they are not one iota less hateful. To be honest, they are probably more hateful than the guy the Times profiled. And half the people who wouldn’t dream of actually calling themselves Nazis are EXTREMELY sympathetic to great portions of the Nazi program. Shit, white nationalist ideas go down with barely a spoken objection in some of the straight Trump groups, quite often. They’re not problematic at all. The Overton window has shifted so far and so fast, the Nazis are in it now. It’s that fucking simple. They may be on the edge, but they’re well within the frame. The guy in the Times piece is in there, smoking a cigar, kicking back, and putting his feet on the ottoman. Again, guys — THIS IS NORMAL. THE NAZIS ARE NORMAL.

I’ve watched these groups proliferate, grow. You want to tell yourself that this is a fringe, that the worst, loudest, biggest assholes take over groups like that. That ain’t it. A couple dozen groups have become hundreds, thousands. I’ve read the comments, I’ve clicked on the profiles, and I’ve read the user info for all the perfectly nice, seemingly intelligent, well-spoken citizens cheering ICE incarcerating some sick 10-year-old, saying all Muslim-Americans should be deported, demanding football players who protest the police should be put in jail until they stop kneeling, that some reporter should be thrown in jail for asking the president an uncomfortable question, that Iran and North Korea should immediately be nuked. I’m not talking about five or six unpleasant comments on your local newspaper website, I’m talking about literally hundreds of posts with threads that are thousands of comments long, every day, in every group, exactly like this, in too many groups to count.

So how long would you stay in a group where people post gloat in video of children being physically separated from their family if you didn’t kind of agree? With threads thousands of comments long reveling the torture and murder of civilians, or their nuclear annihilation? Advocating beating and murder for using a bathroom? Or laughing at “another monkey” being murdered in cold blood by the police because “he didn’t follow orders.”

At certain point, sticking around watching a crime makes you complicit, don’t you think? And there are millions of people happily sticking around, watching all this, if they’re not actively participating. They’re not monsters, they’re not the prison gang leader with the swastika on his neck. They’re just folks. They’re filled with hate. But they are still just folks, most of the time. This is America now.

Nobody thought Donald Trump could win the Republican primary because he was just so stupid, so venomous, and so obviously beyond the bounds of what WE tought were the cultural/political norms, but he did. No one thought he could win the election for the same reason, but he did. And he won not despite those flaws, because of them. A huge segment of the population of the United States is filled with hatred so intense they actively want a vastly more authoritarian government that will shove that hatred down the throats of the left. They want fascism. They’re hungry for it, whether they call it that or not. In the kind of Orwellian doublespeak this administration has become famous for, they call it “liberty” or “freedom” or “American values”, but they’re talking about hard authoritarianism. They’re talking about fascism. A lot of them would balk at the term, but they know what they want.

The guy in the apartment next to you thinks this country would be a lot better off if we dealt with drug users the way Trump’s friend in the Philippines does. One of your coworkers doesn’t like the term “Nazi” because his grandfather fought them, but he goes home every night and sits in front of his computer and considers whether or not some of the points Richard Spencer is making might not be exactly what America needs. The cop that gave you a ticket for speeding last night has a 14 words tattoo that he’s been hiding in the locker room for the last couple years, at least around the black officers. And the girl next to you on the bus, on the way home, she’s a fucking Nazi. I guarantee she’s a fucking Nazi.

November 8, 2016, all of us on the left and a substantial segment of the right watched in amazement as Donald Trump rode a burgeoning wave of race hatred and ideological tribalism into the White House. If you think victory has satiated this monster, you are very fucking mistaken. And if you think defeating the Republicans in 2018 or 2020 is going to stop it, destroy it, you’re delusional.

The new authoritarianism is here, it is part of the culture, and it’s making itself comfortable. Ethno-nationalism, white supremacy, hard right authoritarianism, has been back in Europe for awhile and now it’s here. Not the bad part of America you never actually visit, not some backwoods hillbilly America that we get to ignore in our little leftie bubble. Not the supermax the next county over. It’s all around you, it’s next-door, and it’s in a little town in Ohio where a nice, young, newly married couple are starting their life together.

This is something new. Remember when Bush was president, and you’d hold up a piece of cardboard and shout that he was a fascist with a bunch of your friends? Yeah, he wasn’t. Neither was Obama or Clinton or the other Bush or Reagan. They might’ve been terrible presidents, each of them. They might be terrible people. They might’ve done unforgivable things. Every single one of them was squarely within the tradition of Western liberal democracy, and so were the politics. Donald Trump isn’t. His followers aren’t. We are through the looking glass.

If the left doesn’t stop pretending these people don’t exist, pretending they’re an anomaly, pretending they will go away if the Democrats take back the house, or Mueller catches Donald Jr. red-handed, or your friend posts another meme about Donald Trump being orange, the left is going to get its fucking silly ass kicked again. It’s not going to get better overnight, and if Trump loses in 2020, trust me, I know these people — the hard right, the Trump right, the authoritarian right, is going to lose their goddamn minds. If Trump loses, it’s going to get worse. And what do you suppose happens then? What do you suppose happens when the apple pie fascists find someone capable to do the job? What happens when someone capable realizes there’s an opening? What happens when that person isn’t a fucking clown?

This is it. This is American politics in the 21st century. We are going to be fighting the lumpen neo-authoritarian right for the rest of our lives, likely. That’s the political territory. This is new, at least in my lifetime. The ideas existed, the culture existed, but it was never so open, so brazen, so pervasive and acceptable. If it’s going to be stopped, it’s going to be stopped by people who understand what’s actually happening, not people with their heads in the sand and asses in the air. If you care, it’s time hike up your drawers, accept the facts, and familiarize yourself with the culture you’re part of, the parts of it that you’ve been trying to ignore. It’s not going away. It’s likely going to get worse before it gets better. We all need to understand what the fuck is going on before reality slaps us all in the face again, harder, with more permanent and deadlier results.

-- George Godwyn

Source

[arazialotis]

Austin Nights - Part 8

Pairing: Single!Jensen × Reader

Word Count: Around 3500

Summary: The reader lives in Austin and unknowingly runs into Jensen at a bonfire and sparks fly. Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Implied Smut, Fluff

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

@misguidedconqueress, thank you so much for your help on this one! You are extremely helpful and hopefully some day your tips will actually sink into my brain. And not just with the technical stuff too, but encouraging me as well.

—–

You woke up the next morning with Jensen’s arms wrapped tight around you. You nuzzled in closer, stirring him awake. He squeezed you tighter.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He mumbled still sleepy.

“Mmmm.” You hummed into his chest.

“How you feeling today?” He asked you with a hint of concern.

You sighed. “Better.... You?”

“A little sore.” He rolled his shoulders out softly chuckling. “Been awhile since I roughed it.”

“And I thought you were a real life cowboy…” You smirked.

“Nah, I’m not that cool.” Jensen waved off. “You ready to get back to civilization?”

You buried your head back into his chest and shook your head no.

“Come on babe,” He coaxed and rubbed your back. “From personal encounters, I know nothing can stand in your way.”

“I’ve been thinking…” You ventured, but stopped - unsure of how to continue.

“Yeah?” He inquired.

“I think I want to open my own nonprofit.” You confided.

His eyes brightened up. “That sounds awesome.”

You smiled from his excitement and continued to explain your idea. “I want to start something for teenage girls and women, those who weren't able to finished high school for whatever reason. I want to give them a place where they could work on getting their GED and be connected to resources. Also, we would have like a cafe where they could work to get some income and a barista’s certificate. If they have the barista’s certificate, there would be a better chance they could become employed at Starbucks because Starbucks has a pretty great college scholarship program.” You rambled as you looked through your journal, trying to piece together the details.

Jensen lowered the journal away from your face. “You continue to amaze me, Y/N. I want to be a part of this. Will you let me?” He asked; given your past stubbornness.

You nodded. “But I’m going to have to do a lot of paperwork before we can actually physically begin planning. I think I’ll be able to get one of my old professors on board to help me out. Like signing off on grant proposals.”

“How about we take the first step and get you back home?” Jensen suggested.

You sighed again. “Fine…. Angie’s going to be so mad at me.”

“I’m sure she will understand. I think she was just worried.” Jensen reassured.

Jensen helped you pack up, rolling up the tent, and securing things down in the truck bed. You did your best to destroy the evidence of the fire pit assuming it was probably against the park rules. Your truck easily got back on the trail. The rental however was another story. The car’s front tire had partially sunken into a soft patch of mud. You tried to hide your giggles as you watched Jensen unsuccessful try to reverse it out. You ran over, pushing the hood of the car, squealing with laughter as mud splattered all over you.

Jensen cut the engine and assessed the situation. “I’m just going to call a tow.” “No, no. We got this.” You argued determined.

“There’s no way we got this. But you are completely adorable covered in mud.” He teased as he pulled out his phone.

“Shut up.” You lightheartedly ordered back. “Just hold on one second.” You ran to your truck grabbing the carpeted mats that sat on the floor. You did your best to jam it under the front tire. “Okay, get back in and reverse.” You directed, getting back into position to push the car.

“I’ll push.” He waved you off.

“Those muscles aren’t just for show?” You quipped.

He chuckled and jokingly snapped his teeth at you. “Get in there.”

You listened and pushed the reverse pedal to the floor. With Jensen’s effort and the traction gained from the mats, the tire made it’s way out of the mud and you maneuvered it back to the dirt road.

“And that’s how it's done.” You boasted as Jensen threw the mud ridden mats into the truck bed.

“You were right.” Jay admitted, completely splattered with mud as well.

“If you haven’t learned that I’m always right by now, I’m not sure what to do with you.” You teased.

“Get me back to your place and I might have a few ideas of what you could do with me.” He smiled before planting a kiss on your lips.

On the road home, you bit your lip with anticipation, rushing as fast as you could.You went to the bathroom and ran the water for Jensen so he could get cleaned up from the mud already dry on both of your skin. He followed you in, shutting the door behind, the heat and tension still thick between you. The sweat and his shirt clinging to his body highlighted the definition of his muscles. The steam from the water began to fog up the mirror as your heart pounded in your chest.

Jensen’s lips found yours again as his hands pushed your shirt up. He trailed kisses down the side of your neck, pausing only briefly to lift your shirt off over your head. You moaned with need, greedily undoing his belt and throwing it aside. Jay pulled off his shirt in one swift motion. You went to unsnap your bra but found it already unclasped.

“How did you..?” You asked - completely unaware of when he had undone it.

“Shhh.” He whispered in your ear before using one finger to guide the bra the rest of the way off, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

Your body filled with goosebumps from the sensation. He popped open the button of your jeans.  You pressed your body against his, taking his face with both hands and deeply kissing him, finishing by gently biting his lower lip. He responded by nibbling your neck and hoisting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked to the shower.

“What are you doing? Jensen!” You gleefully giggled as he opened the shower curtain. “Stop!” You squeaked, the order carrying no seriousness. He brought you into the shower both of your jeans becoming instantly soaked…

An hour and a half later you were laying together in damp sheets. Jensen was twirling a strand of your wet hair in his fingers.

“You know I have to leave soon, right?” He murmured. You nodded your head. “I’m pretty sure work’s not going to be too thrilled about these.” He looked down at his chest.

You traced your finger over a few marks you mistakenly left behind. “What? Dean Winchester has never had a hickey?” You doubted.

Jay snickered. “I guess it’s about time.”

Your smile turned to a frown. “You lied.”

“About what?” He asked.  

“It hasn’t gotten easier. You leaving…” You explained.

“I know.” He agreed. “Just give it time… and no spontaneous camping adventures, promise?”

“I won’t, at least not without telling you first.” You smirked.

“I’ll be back in three weeks to close on the house anyways and spend whatever time I have with you then.” Jay ensured.

He packed up pretty quickly, already booked for the next flight out. Although you were heartbroken he was leaving so soon, you couldn’t ask him to stay. You had already cost him time from his busy schedule and weren’t willing to delay him further. You distracted yourself from you thoughts by scurrying together an apology for Angie. You scoured the whole apartment, top to bottom, making it immaculate. You baked cupcakes and put together a spa package with a certificate for a free pedicure. You anxiously awaited for her to return home.

You jolted up from the couch when her keys hit the lock. She opened arms full with a grocery bag. You immediately took it from her.

“Angie, I am so sorry.” You sincerely apologized. “I made you cupcakes and,” You set the bag on the counter so you could hand her the spa package. “And got you this, willing to be a plus two if you need one.” Angie threw the package down on the couch and embraced you. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

“I won’t. I promise.” You hugged her back.

---

Three weeks had come and gone. Your ambitious plan had been put on hold while you found two part time jobs to suffice for income. One was at Starbucks so that opening and running a cafe for the business would come more at ease; so you would know what to expect and be able to step in when needed. The other was at BookPeople, which was honestly hard to bring home an actual paycheck, the temptation to spend all of it very high.

The jobs had taken up most of your time - leaving the planning of the nonprofit on hold. However, you had reached out to an old professor to see if they would be willing to use their title to sign off on the paperwork. Having a master’s level on the project might give it the extra appeal a grant committee would be looking for.

You were finishing up your shift at Starbucks when Jensen texted you an address to meet him at. You made some extra drinks for the two of you before heading out. It was a ways outside the city. The streets became lined with houses that you could never imagine being able to afford. Your truck made you look like a desperate landscaping operation seeking out business in an area way out of your league. You followed Jensen’s directions through a private drive to a place that you would describe more as a compound than an actual house.

You parked the truck and texted Jensen. ‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.’

Your phone buzzed back. ‘Stop being a dork and get in here.’

You smiled to yourself knowing he was just as big of a dork as you. You cautiously walked up to the door, coffees in hand, and rang the doorbell.

Jensen opened the door with a huge grin. “Delivery for Mr. Ackles.” You greeted him. He responded by kissing you on the lips and drawing you into the house. “You still gotta tip, you know.” You giggled.

“So, what do you think?” He waved his arm, you follow it gazing around the openness of the first floor.

“It’s bigger on the inside.” You teased in a transatlantic accent. “So, is it’s officially yours?”

“It’s officially mine.” He answered jingling the keys. He handed you a spare key. “And yours, if you want it.”

Even though you expected something like this, you still blushed and hesitantly took the key. “I’ll have to see when my lease is up.” Jensen rolled his eyes, hoping you would have been more willing to take up his offer. “I’ll still come check up on it, if you need someone to while you are out.”

“I should have asked Angie, she would have broken the lease and moved both your asses in.” Jensen teased.

“She still might if she ever sees the place.” You agreed.

“Well, let me give you a tour.” Jensen started.

You walked around with him trying not to gawk too much. It was already fully furnished but Jensen said if you wanted to do anything different with the place, feel free. He ended the tour in an entertaining area in the basement.

“Four hours later…” You joked.

“It was like only three.” Jensen played back. “You’ve been so quiet, what are you thinking?”

“Honestly… it's a bit much.” You admitted.

Jensen chuckled opened a sliding door to the backyard. “Seriously, you're the only person I know who would say that.”

You followed him outside to an area set up for entertaining. It came complete with an outdoor kitchen, fireplace, walkway to a sunbathing area overlooking Lake Travis. “But I think I could get used to it.” You accepted unashamed.

He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, taking in the view as well.

----

Four more months had passed and you still had not moved in. The lease had ended but you and Angie had decided to go on a month-to-month schedule. It’s not that you didn’t want to move in, it’s just that Jensen had not made any other indications of where he saw the relationship headed. You were honestly terrified of making a huge commitment and then things ending badly. Skype dates were becoming short and infrequent. Both of you were swimming in work. On top of both of your jobs, you were buried deep in research. Researching available grants, researching available locations for the nonprofit, researching research to prove why your proposal would be beneficial to the community and effective for clients.

“If I hear the word research one more time, I’m going to start pulling hair out.” You complained to Jay over Skype.

“You need a break. Why don’t you come up to Vancouver for the week?” He suggested.

“Ah, that sounds wonderful, but tickets…” You attempted to dismiss the idea.

“Have already been booked.” Jay interrupted smiling from ear to ear.

“What? Jensen?” You asked embarrassed.

“Check your email.” He instructed.

You opened a new tab to find electronic tickets in your mailbox. “What about work?” You groaned.

“They’re part-time jobs, Y/N.” Jay argued back. “If you can’t get off, you might as well quit.”

“Okay.” You gave in, easily persuaded.

“Really?” Jensen bounced. “You’ll come?”

“Yes, I’ll come.” You assured.

“Yes!” He gloated in victory. “So this is what it feels like to win something?”

“Don’t get used to it.” You teased.

“Ah, I haven’t seen you in so long. I’m so excited.”  He could hardly contain his smile.

“Me too. Love you Jay.” You ended.

“See you in a few days, Y/N. Love you too.” He said before ending the call.

Thankfully you were able to find coworkers to cover your shifts last minute before you made your way north again. It had only been about five months since your last visit to Vancouver but it felt much longer. Jensen, of course, had made all the arrangements such as transportation. It was the same driver as last time but this time you didn't make a fuss, growing more familiar with the lifestyle.

Although Jensen had meant for it to be a relaxing getaway, you had used it more as an escape from work to focus on the nonprofit. You had found an available grant which had an application deadline in two weeks. So for a majority of the week you had locked yourself away in his apartment, avoiding visiting the set and nights out, to focus solely on preparing the grant proposal.

Jay came home early one night, finding you in sweats and one of his t-shirts with a messy bun and reading glasses - as your eyes had tired from staring at a computer screen for too long.

“Save your work.” Jensen warned.

“Just a few more minutes…” You said, your attention not really leaving the document.

“Save it. Save it.” He pestered and put his hand on the laptop. “5… 4… 3…”

“Okay, okay. It’s saved.”

“2, 1.” He finished before closing the laptop. You took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes. “This was supposed to be a break for you.”

“It is… from piles of coffee orders…” You explained.

“Well, we are going out tonight and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Jay said more as a suggestion than a demand.

“In that case, let me get ready. Unless you were planning to go to McDonald’s.”

“Actually, I was. But it’s very different up here. Black tie, not optional.” Jensen joked in a serious tone.

“Good thing I brought along my Louis Vuitton ballgown.” You played back.

Jensen followed you into the bedroom as you went through the closet trying to decide on something.

He looked through your luggage and held up a bright red, short, and revealing nightgown. “This would work.” He suggested.

“Oh my god, that’s lingerie.” You laughed, grabbing it from him.

“I know. I think you’d look very nice in it.” He smiled. You rolled your eyes putting it back in the suitcase. He walked over to another closet and pulled out a hanger covered with a dry cleaning parchment. “How about this?”

You gave him a curious look as he handed you the hanger. You undid the covering, revealing a knee length, tea styled, creme dress with navy lace embroidering and cap sleeves.

“Jensen?” You asked, shocked.

“Angie helped me pick it out.” He admitted.

“It’s beautiful.” You marveled.

“Well, go put it on.” He instructed.

When you were finally finished getting ready, you gave him a little twirl. “What do you think?”

“Absolutely stunning…. The dress isn’t bad either.” He responded, causing you to blush.

Jensen was dressed in nice jeans and a gray blazer. He drove, wanting a more intimate evening with you. He drove you into the Gastown district to the Bauhaus Restaurant.

“This is pretty fancy.” You commented as he pulled out the chair for you.

“Don’t.” He instructed but was too late as you had started looking over the menu.

You raised your eyebrows at the prices. “So… I’ll have the water… maybe sell my kidney for a slice of lemon…”

“Stop it.” He pleaded. “It’s really not that expensive. Just for tonight, don’t worry about it.”

You closed your menu. “Okay.” Jensen eyed you suspiciously. The waiter came around to take  your orders. “I’ll just do an a la carte salad and water, thank you.”

“No.” Jensen interjected. “We’ll both do the tasting menu with wine pairings. Please.” Jensen paused for the waiter to leave. “You didn’t really think you were going to get away with that?”

“It was worth a shot.” You smirked at him.

But you were glad Jensen had ordered. It was a completely unique experience for you. Each dish was so properly balanced, each element playing off of each other, each bite tasting just a bit different but working together with such cohesion.

“I gotta be honest, I had a hard time not instagramming each plate.” You confessed as you walked down the street to the car.

“Well, I did, so no shame.” He joked.

“No, you didn’t.” You nudged him in the side. “Thank you, Jensen.” “The night’s not over yet. Still up for one more thing?” He asked fidgeting with his hands.

“Sure.” You agreed.

He drove,  headed north on the highway, handing you a blindfold as the light of the day started to fade away. “Put this on.” He instructed. You looked at him anxiously. “It’s a surprise.”

You hesitantly put on the blindfold, still chatting the rest of the way. Every now and then, you would try to listening to clues of your whereabouts but came up lost. It had to be more of an hour of driving until you finally felt the car slow down to a stop. You heard Jensen open his door and come around to your side. You laughed as he guided you out. Your feet felt gravel and then cool short grass.

“You ready?” He asked.

“For what?” You playfully pleaded.

“I’m not telling.” He waited for you.

“...Okay, fine, I’m ready.” You agreed.

He reached around to undo the blindfold and you became filled with awe as the sky danced in glowing waves of iridescent green and purple.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed quickly glancing at Jensen before focusing back on the sky. “The northern lights?!” He gave you a moment to get lost in the view.

“I wanted to do this now… when you were looking up at the night sky.” Jensen began.

As you turned around the color from your face left and your heart stopped seeing Jensen trembling as he went down on one knee.

“You told me once that when you are looking up at the night sky, you are looking into the expanses of the universe. That all your problems seem to fade away. That you feel at peace because what you are looking at is so serene.” He paused catching his shaking breath as tears started forming in your eyes. “Y/N, that is how I feel when I look at you. None of my problems, frustrations, or the weight of the world matters when I am with you. It all fades away, because you are looking back at me. And I…” He felt around his jacket and reached for an inside pocket, pulling out a ring. “I never want to lose that feeling. So… Y/N, will you marry me?”

You couldn’t tell if you were on earth or floating in space. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. Tears slid down your cheeks as they did his. You tried to find your voice. “Is this really happening?” You squeaked.

He laughed. “Yes, this is really happening.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped as he got up and slid the ring over your finger.

“Is that a yes?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded confirmation.

He lifted you in an embrace unable to contain his joy. He twirled you throughout the field surrounded by the dancing night sky.

------

Epilogue 

Tags:

Forever Tags: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @dancingalone21 @fallen-castiel @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d

JensenxReader: @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @jensen-gal @be-amaziing @mizzzpink @akshi8278 @beatlesobsessionlove @tiffanycaruso @mywillfulwinchester

Austin Nights: @smoothdogsgirl @iamnotsaneatall @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @jodibullock1 @deansgirl215 @atc74 @psychidella @pretty-fortune @dean-winchesters-baby @mskitty416 @cdg174 @spnfangirl1965 @ashleydivine @winchesterprincessbride @arbitranox @vaisabu @redeyedvixen @bradygabrielle-blog @procratsinator @mariahoedt @gallifreyansass @enthusiasmisdepressing @keelzy2  @doesmynamegohere @fanfreak07 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @carribear31

[dozibrion]

AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEI’m struggling to believe that I’ll be fine. I received every bit of bad news and now I’m being left behind. Suddenly, the doubts rush right to my head. Maybe who I want to trust arNAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEo one has to knoAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEw that we are all alone - Your shadows act just like sharp arrows to the bone. Stop second guessing, you know it never helps. You're comiAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEng undone.Remember when I said your secrets are safe with me? Although theyAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME're deafening, I don't want to believe.No more shame or mention that you are better off this wAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEay.No more doubt or reasons why we won'tAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME work out in the end.I am sick and tired of having to put you together again. You're broken and swollen with things I cannot mend. Can you see more clearly when inAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME need of repair? It's unfair you think your pretAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEty words can fix this.Sit and breathe, then count to ten. When will you notice you've lost all of your best friends.You are smoke inside my lungs. This fire's been burning since both of us were youAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEng. You are poison in my blood, and they have told me that this just isn't loveen’t really my friends. We were given scripts, are we what we wished? I’ve been compromised before our eyes. I don’t think I’ll be missed. Underneath, worn out couch - please take me as I am.I haven’t been well for awhile but you're someone I can trust.warm beach air - the waves were getting rough.I don’t know how AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEyou knew but you knew I’d had too much.actions will speak louder than words.distractions and appointments, my days werAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEe adding up.enough is enough is enough.“you don’t want to change”I cannoOur blame was framed on the wall to cover up the cracks.(can you recall who was speaking laAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEst?)It's a crime that the words don't align how they're supposed to.It all depends where they end up - I've had enough.I don't want to say that you are wrong but I'm right. It's the only piece ofAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME mind that I get. "It was over before it started."You don't know what's going on,and I don't quite know where I am.Nowhere in Nashville, but you're here with time to kill.Headlights, you were miles away.Stop signs, you were counting the days with road lines.You were singing my name.I AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEalways knew you'd move away and cut our connection.It shouldn't hurt that you had to leave to find your direction, but this hurts so bad.AlwaysAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME remember that nice girls die slow.We act as track marks that landscape our maps.We'll use magnifying glass to inspect all the pieces that spread through the scenery.It's easy to forget then relive all that we did.I can't make you stay. Where does that leave me anyway?surely got what you wanted, I hope it tears you apart.Our argument has bent all the words I said. This isn't what AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEI meant and I jusAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEt want this to end....and I know I am right this time.I'll forgive all of your choices, turn off the voices, and forget that you exist. I never wanteAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEd it to be like this.Such a complicated mess, we're a complicated mess.AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEt change - actions will speak louder than words.her cure for reoccurring sad eyes is long nights spent AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMETHIS TIMEoutside;underneath the stars, sleeping side by side.if the damage has been done then let’s forget the past.what if I am wrong, but what’s the fun in that?I knew all along.deep in my skin I hate feeling like this. IAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME’ve done the math but I’ll crunch the numbers once again. Where did I go wrong? I thougAND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIMEht my faults would prove to you that I belong. Where did I go wrong? Soon I’ll be gone.I know I let you down because I’m not who I should be. AND I KNOW I AM RIGHT THIS TIME

[devynwright-writesimagines]

Seeking Paintings | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You, a muggle-born artist, have been hiding your feelings for Draco Malfoy for years now. Though, after an unplanned meeting in the astronomy tower things between the two of you start to change. Even more so after finding each other in the Room or Requirement.

Word Count: 3,573

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: not my gif credit to owner

You stare out into the vast horizon from the astronomy tower. This was your favorite hideout during your free period. You much rather enjoyed the view when it was light outside. Sure you love astronomy class and looking up at the stars but this was just different. Better.

You pulled out your old, hard-cover, weather-beaten sketch book and began to draw the landscape before you. You made sure to grasp and add every detail to your drawing. You began shading in the sunset when you heard a voice behind you.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in a rotten tone and you already knew who it was.

"You don't own the astronomy tower, Draco," you say blandly while continuing your work.

"You know this is were I go in my spare time," you hear him huff.

"I know," you blush, hoping he doesn't know that besides the view one of your favorite part of this spot is that it's that it's his spot too. Then again, how would he even know that, it's not like you two are exactly close.

You hear him start to walk away and your heart sinks. Just once you'd like him to stay up here when you're here. Maybe then, you too could become close. You'd had this battle with having a crush on Draco since first year. Now here you are, sixth year and the most interaction between you two is fighting over the astronomy tower.

"You know you can stay right?" You boldly say. You swallow hard when you hear him stop in his tracks.

You hear his footsteps begin again but this time coming back towards you.

He sits a few feet from you, "Just don't expect me to talk to you."

You just smile and shake your head continuing to look down at your sketch book. For a few minutes you two stay like this, you drawing, him (probably) thinking. You wonder what could be going on in his head, he seemed to be thinking pretty deeply.

You feel him inching towards you at a snail's pace, from the corner of your eye you can see him watching you draw everything from here to the horizon. You hate yourself for the blush creeping up on your face, by the time he's within a foot of you your face is bright red.

"Why are you blushing?" You look up at him and see he's smiling, a genuine smile.

Because I've been hiding my massive crush on you for nearly six years.

"I just get embarrassed at people watching me work," you shrug.

"Why?" He asks seeming genuinely interested. "You're really good."

"Thanks," you're blush gets even deeper.

You break eye contact and look back down at your sketchbook. The rest of the period is made up with you finishing your sketch and Draco watching intently. He's completely mesmerized at how you can just see an image and recreate it perfectly on your page.

It's Saturday and you aren't needed nor expected anywhere, which is why Saturdays are your favorite days. You usually spent these days roaming around looking for inspiration for a new art piece. Which is exactly how you plan to start today.

You roam the school grounds aimlessly, constantly moving your head around to grasp every aspect of the school. You step into the one of the many courtyards and feel inspired to sketch it, until you realize you've already done that... Ten times...

You sigh and realize that after six years of constantly working in the same space it's going to be hard to find a completely new area for your art. Just this year and the following before you can finally start travelling and finding more inspiration worldwide.

In your attempts to find a new spot you're again not looking forward. causing you to slam right into someone.

"Hey, watch where- oh, hey Y/N," you hear Draco's voice quickly turn from intimidation to delight.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention," you ramble.

"Don't worry about it," he laughs at how cute he thinks you are when you ramble.

A blush creeps onto your face, "Well, I best be going." As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him.

"Hey, are you going to the Quidditch match today?" He inquires.

"Um I wasn't really planning on it," you scratch the back of your neck.

"Oh," his face slightly falls. "Well, I'd like it if you went," he says his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Even though you'd be rooting for Y/H and not Slytherin," he looks at the ground.

"I mean I probably should go, it's sixth year and I haven't gone to a single match," you shrug and he looks at you dumbfounded.

"Not a single match? Well, you definitely have to go now," he laughs and so do you.

"Well, I guess you can count on me being there," you say before turning and walking away. You look over your shoulder, "And I guess I can root for Slytherin just this once," you wink and quickly face forward as your face turns crimson red. A crazy amount of adrenaline must've been rushing through you for having the courage to wink at Draco Malfoy.

You take a seat in Y/H's section for the Quidditch match, all your housemates do a double take when they see you arrive. Which were followed by 'finally', 'it's about time', 'I didn't even know you knew how to get here' and more sayings around those lines.

You don't know to much about Quidditch, especially since you're a muggle-born. Not that you know much about muggle sports either. Your friends have explained the game to you many times, you got the logistics but you just didn't know why it was such a big deal. Maybe you'll actually figure it out through watching a match.

Draco rose up into the air on his broomstick to prepare for the start of the game. On his way up he scanned the crowd for you and a smile creeps onto his face when he sees you sitting in Y/H's section. He can tell you look slightly out of place in the stands and is glad to see you actually showed up. He keeps up the hope that you're actually here for him.

He has been trying to convince himself since second year that he doesn't have feelings for you. That he could never have feelings for a muggle-born. Except as he's grown older through his school years he's realized that muggle-borns aren't that bad. He's realized he was just told to think that way, not that he actually believed it.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the blow of the whistle signaling the beginning of the game. Slytherin immediately takes hold of the Quaffle and manages to score within the first minute. A chorus of boos and angered shouts comes from Y/H's section. Draco looks over to see you remaining silent among your peers. He smiles, hoping you may be rooting for Slytherin...for him...silently. Even if you're not, at least you aren't booing.

Draco circles around the field, scanning for the snitch. He'd be lying to say that he wasn't losing his interest in Quidditch, squinting into the distance searching for a flying ball of gold gets boring after awhile. Of course, he didn't know if the sport itself was actually starting to bore him or the stress recently rested upon him was making him lose interest in the things he loves. Apparently stress can do that. 

He sees a flicker of gold in the distance, shocked at how early on he's spotted it he doesn't fully believe he saw it. That is until he sees the seeker for Y/H dive in the direction of the flash of gold. He quickly follows and the two chase after the golden blur, neck and neck. Draco shoves the other seeker, causing him to spin off course and leaving Draco to be the only one in pursuit of the snitch.

He's extremely close, he takes a hand off his broom and reaches towards the snitch. He feels cold metal on the pads of his fingers, he just needs to get a grip around it. Almost...

Wham!

He's nearly knocked off his broom as pain seers through his ribcage. He got hit with a bludger milliseconds before he could grab the snitch. He holds a hand over his ribcage and groans in pain. He rises back into the air to find he's near Y/H's section. He looks over at you and you mouth to him, 'Are you okay?'. He nods and manages to give you a faint smile as reassurance.

When he starts to move upward he hears many whispers, "Did Draco Malfoy the Draco Malfoy just smile?", "Did he smile at you, Y/N?", "Is there something going on between you two?", and things of that nature.

He looks back in your direction to see your cheeks turning pink while multiple people start to question you. Though more importantly he sees a smile on your face at the thought of people thinking something is going on between the two of you.

Suddenly, his interest for Quidditch returns. Except rather than loving the sport, wanting to be the best, and move towards winning the House Championships, his goal and motivation to win comes from you. He wants to impress you, and suddenly he finds himself squinting at the field and scanning it as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes pass with no sign of the snitch. Y/H is currently in the lead, sixty-twenty. Draco continues to scan the field, keeping an eye on the other seeker to see if they look to be in pursuit. He finds himself glancing over at you often as well, trying to make sure you aren't growing bored. Good thing he's doing this because it is when he shifts his eyes to you that he spots the snitch once again.

This time determined to get he speeds off in the directions of the flicker of gold. He soon gets close enough that the snitch is hardly a blur anymore. He stretches out his arm when he feels someone bump his side, not strong enough to knock him off his path though. It's Y/H's seeker, Draco gives them a menacing stare before turning his eyes back to the snitch. The two race around the field with their arms reaching towards the snitch, they're neck and neck. Draco, determined to win, jerks his hand out so roughly he fears he might've dislocated his shoulder. It would be worth it though, he feels his hand close around the snitch.

He slows down and waves the snitch above his head, wearing a proud smile. The rest of the Slytherin team flies over to congratulate him. He hardly notices their presence as he starts to look for you, to see your reaction. His smile fell, you weren't in the spot you had previously been in. You weren't anywhere to be seen.

A look of disappointment washes over Draco's face as he moves back to the ground. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you just not care enough to stay? Did you leave because Slytherin won? Was it foolish of him to think you were here for him? He was disappointed that he ever let that thought into his head.

The rest of the Slytherins were celebrating in their common room, but Draco was in no mood for a party. Though every time he tried to move towards the dorms one of his friends would pull him back to the center of the crowd.

"Dude, what up with you," Blaise leans onto Draco. "You know you can't vanish from a party after a win."

Vanish.

He hadn't been to the room of requirement in ages. If he was already disappointed with himself he might as well make it even worse by working on that cabinet.

"I actually have to go do something," Draco mutters before peeling away from the crowd, this time being successful.

He begins the journey from the dungeons all the way to the seventh floor, left corridor. Constantly, he finds himself dodging behind corners at the sight or sound of a teacher. When he makes it to the entrance of the Room of Requirement unscathed he begins to pace and think deeply about what he needs.

I really need to work on this cabinet. If I don't fix it in time I'll probably get myself and my family killed. To work on this cabinet though I'm really going to need some privacy. No one else should be able to go in or out. I really just need to be alone, even though I'd rather be talking to Y/N, figuring out why she left the natch early... But I really need to go work on this cabinet in private.

He thinks to himself, allowing him access to the room. He steps inside and begins to make his way to the vanishing cabinet. He examines a feather from the last time when he used that cabinet on a small bird. He begins to realize it's spending days on end staring at this cabinet that he truly begins to hate what he's become. He knows he had no choice, it makes him hate all those who did. All who didn't have people pressuring him to be evil. To kill or be killed. It makes him hate all those who had good people in his life.

He just wanted one good person in his life, he needed one good person in his life.

Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life?

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a crash from somewhere in the room, faint whispering follows. Someone else is in here.

He draws his wand from his pocket, becoming extremely alert. He swallows hard, the last thing he needs is to be caught in here. He slowly moves towards the sound of the crash, pashing piles and piles of randomized objects. The faint whisper becomes a distinct mutter, a girl's mutter.

He jumps out from behind the last pile of things before him and the unknown girl and raises his wand. However, he immediately lowers it at the sight before him.

"Y/N?" He questions putting his wand back in his pocket.

You look up at him and gulp. You are kneeling on the ground in front of a puddle of spilt paint to the side of a canvas. Your face turning a bright red to match the paint covering the floor.

"Draco," you say wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he tuts.

"Well, I needed a canvas and some oils," you shrug. "So, I went to the room that would supply me with my needs.

"Well, I needed privacy as in no one else being in here," he says coming off more hostile than he wants to be towards you.

"Maybe you don't know what you're actually needs are," you look down at the ground, saddened at his hostility towards you. Just when you were beginning to think he could actually like you, how silly.

He remembers what he was just thinking about. Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life? "Maybe you're right," he admits.

You look up at him and try to suppress any thoughts of him needing you from your head. You look back down at your paint puddle and go back to cleaning.

"You know there's this thing called magic," he chuckles before pulling out his wand. After giving it a little flick all the paint moves back into the container.

You tut before letting out a muffled thanks and standing back up. A slight frown forms on your face as you dip your paintbrush into your now unspilt paint and get back to working on your canvas.

"I thought you'd be a little more thankful," Draco raises an eyebrow.

"I don't like to mix magic and art," you huff.

"How come?" he presses on, sounding as though he genuinely cares.

You sigh, not sure if you're completely comfortable about divulging your childhood to Draco, your muggle childhood. If you even wanted to dream about having a chance with him you figured it wouldn't be best to remind him you're muggle-born. However, he's expecting an answer and you only have the truth.

"It just when I was younger I was told I had a gift when it came to art," you sigh. "They said my art made my talent seem like magic," you smile at the memories. "I guess I wanted to keep it all down to talent not literal magic," you shrug,

"Oh," is all he has to say. "Well, can I see what you're painting?"

At that you freeze, brush in midair dripping paint onto the ground. You swallow hard and your face becomes a deeper red than Draco, or anyone has ever seen you as. You slowly turn your near paralyzed head to look at him wide-eyed, You do not even want to imagine Draco's reaction to your current work, yet alone see or hear it in reality.

He chuckles, "I'll take that as a no." You slightly nod and turn back to your work. "If I can't look at it can you at least tell me what it is?" Your face is burning at this point, it feels so hot you fear you may need to go down to the hospital wing.

He appears next to you and you nearly choke on the lump forming in your throat. You set your brush down and timidly turn your head to look at him. You get a side view of his head, slightly tilted with a flattered expression resting on his face.

"Is that me?" He smiles brightly and you swallow hard.

"Is that weird?" You timidly ask.

He turns his head to look down at you, a smile still plastered on his face. "Not at all."

He looks back to examine the painting even deeper as you rock on your heels as an anxious tick. The painting is a site you captured in your head at the match. Draco with his hand outstretched towards a golden blur, you seeker right at his heels. You painted the world around them as a fuzzy haze to show they were moving at top speeds. In the background one could distinguish the field, goalposts, stadium full of students, as well as the other players flying about.

"Is this why you left the match early?"

"Yeah, I just got the idea and rushed here to go and paint it," you shrug. Then, you fully process what he just said. "You noticed I left?" Your eyebrows knit together and you move your gaze to him.

"Of course," he says looking at you. "I did it for you," he states. "I woke up this morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go looking for a golden blur. Then, I remembered you said I could count on you being there and I knew I had to play." You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, so Draco continues. "I was planning on inviting you to the after party as my date but you weren't there," he shrugs. He's trying to play it cool but truly he heart is beating a mile a minute. He was not intended to profess his love for you but before he could stop himself the words were slipping from his mouth.

"D-date?"

"Yeah, is it so weird for me to take the girl I've liked since second year to be my date?" There's no going back now. It's out, the secret is out. Draco Malfoy has feelings for Y/N Y/L/N.

He waits for you to say something, anything. He heart is racing and his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes you'll say you feel the same but you just stay silent.

Your mouth hangs agape, you can't believe what you're hearing. "You've liked me since second year?"

"Is that weird?" He timidly asks as you did previously.

"N-not at all," you smile wider than ever, your face only turning slightly pink. "I mean I've liked you since first year." You see his eyes light up at that, he looks as if this is exactly what he needs to hear.

You two stay silent for a moment, gazing into each others eyes. Both of you wondering what to do next. His eyes slowly move down to your lips, linger for a second, then dart back to your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He breathes out so quietly you barely hear.

You nod and try to suppress the butterflies in your stomach. He takes a step closer to you and lightly grips your elbows. He pulls you close and stares deep into your eyes. He starts to lean in as do you, both closing your eyes. His lips gently connect to yours. He softly moves his lips against yours, his hands moving down to your waist as yours get tangled in his hair. Neither of you pull away until you both are gasping for air.

"So did you win?" You giggle once you've caught your breath.

"I have now."

[jeffreydeanmorgantrash]

Negan Gets The Girl

Summary: After Reader and Daryl have been taken from Alexandra, Negan shows no intentions to Y/N. Making you kiss Daryl resulting in Negan flipping out revealing his true feeling for Y/N.

Warnings: Mature audiences, Smut, swearing (it’s Negan there has to be swearing)

Negan x Reader

It had been a while since you had seen Rick and the group and you missed them. Negan had taken you to the sanctuary and you had no idea why. At first, you thought it was to punish Rick and then you thought it was to be his wife, but it wasn’t any of those reasons. You couldn’t help but wonder why you. He could have taken anyone else.

“Good morning!” Dwight shouted at you as you walked along the fence of chained up Walkers and was happy you were not the people on the other side. Dwight was sat on the steps near the door observing the landscape, he was always nice to you. “Morning” You yelled back. “Lovely morning” The small talk was boring you, but you wouldn’t dare be rude to one of Negan’s men. “Yes, the sun makes the Walkers smell twice as bad. What more could I ask for?” You both chuckled as you walked passed him on the steps to go inside. “You know it’s bad luck to walk past someone on the stairs” He shouted behind him at you. “More bad luck than this?” You pointed at the fence filled with Walkers and you both laughed again. “Well… Hello Y/N” It was the distinct voice of Negan he stood right beside you. Dwight immediately made his way to the top of the steps and kneeled, but you didn’t. “Get your ass up Dwighty boy and you…” he turned to face you. “…You can kneel in front of me anytime you like.” He smiled smugly. “Sorry Sir” Dwight trailed off and the happy sweet Dwight you were talking to two seconds ago was gone. You went to wander off and leave them two alone but Negan grabbed your arm signalling you to stay while he spoke to Dwight. “We go a new guy” You didn’t listen to much of what they said until now “Names Daryl, he reminds me of you, a lot.” You perked up to the name ‘Daryl’ you wondered why he was here. “Got all these moral and is stubborn as shit, I like it. You, Dwight, is gonna look after him and do what needs to be done. Can you do that?” Negan pointed his bat at Dwight and he just nodded and left.

“Daryl? My Daryl from Alex–” Negan cut you off as he turned to face you again. “My? Were you and him a thing?” He smiled in excitement. “No, I just meant… like from where I came from.” He was smiling ear to ear at the fact he made you stutter. “Yes, your Daryl.” He emphasised the word 'your’ and you rolled your eyes. “And before you ask. NO, you can’t see him.” Negan’s radio went off and you couldn’t help but be sad. “I’ll be right there.” he put the radio back and looked at you “I’ll see you around sweetheart” he winked and left.

The curiosity of where Daryl could be grew with each day and it was driving you insane. You knew Negan played Easy Street to torture people as he once made a joke about it. So that was what you were going to do, try and find the place playing the song. You thought you were crazy spending the whole day listening out for a song you hardly knew, but you wanted to find Daryl.

You listened around for hours and the grey corridors were becoming boring and confusing. You thought you were going around in circles until you heard something that would drive anyone insane “Easy street and the world is sweet…” You walked a little more so the music got louder and louder and kept repeating 'easy street’ You found the door where music was playing and it opened to your surprise and showed Daryl laying in a dirty outfit.

“Hi” The room was quite for a long while and you thought he was dead. “Y/N?” Daryl muttered out. He sounded like he was in pain, but not physical pain. “Yes, it’s me. You ok? Stupid question.” You started to panic. Negan would find you or Dwight would soon. “You shouldn’t be here.” He sat up and you moved closer. “Daryl I want to me.” He looked up at you and then looked at your lips. “So do I but–” You cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the dirt on his lips but you didn’t care in that moment. His hands ran up your back and into your hair.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” You pulled back from Daryl and knew who was behind you. “So this is a thing?” the sarcastic tone verified who it was, you could see the light the door was letting in, but some was blocked by Negan’s shadow. 

“You a clever piece of ass, aren’t you?” You saw the shadow move closer and you and Daryl remained on the floor. “I’m I just asking these question to myself?” You saw his shadow lower and saw Daryl’s eyes follow every move he made. “Huh?” You felt his breath on the back of you neck which sent shivers down your back. “I just want to see if he was ok” he chuckled. “You wanted to do a bit more-than-that” He moved his mouth right next to your ear. “You like it some much here? I’ll get you a place like this of your own.”

You had been in a cell similar to Daryl’s for a few hours, but no song was playing. You could hear Negan shouting faintly outside for quite awhile now. You could tell he was frustrated but didn’t know what about. The door opened showing a tall big man that was Negan. There was something about the way he stood that made you feel weak, not the fact he was intimidating but you would let him do anything to you. You lowered your head in shame for thinking such things, you just kissed Daryl and now you wanna fuck this guy. You remind with your head down while Negan started to talk to you. “You are challenging aren’t you sweetheart? You really get into people’s head without meaning too of course. You definitely got into mine, didn’t you?” He smiled crouching down. “and I can’t in no good conscience have a pretty fine ass women like you in a cell.” You lifted your head. “Ah well got you to look at me and you like what I’m saying don’t you?” You didn’t say anything and remained to look at him. “I got a deal for ya.” “What?” you said softly “Girl, the voice drives me crazy. You know every time I fuck one of my wives. I swear I’m thinking of you.” he chuckled looking at your face go red. “The deal is you can be mine, one of my wives. My favourite one by the looks of it and no bullshit no Daryl, no going back to Alexandra. Now I want you to know that you have the freedom to say no. I’m not forcing you.” You stayed quiet, thinking it over. You always liked Negan in that way and imagining him all over you body sent you crazy. But being owned by him you didn’t like. “Ok,” he grinned knowing he won. “But…” You said firmly. “… I’m not very easy to control. I accept your rules and understand why you have them. But don’t completely control me.” He was now smiling at what a strong woman you were being. “Alright, honey,” He said sarcastically. “God I wanna take you here and now.” he eyes turned into an animal looking for his prey. “Why don’t you then!” You raised your eyebrows. He leant in, in excitement. “Your gonna be the death of me. Aren’t you?” he said and your lips connected. “Maybe, but not yet.” he chuckled as your lips parted. “Looking forward to it” He overpowered you with his kiss. He laid you down on the floor and you lifted your back up a bit from how cold it was. He made his hands down to your waist and almost ripped off your pants and underwear. Making his way back up to your face, he looked at you for a second and then started to kiss your neck. Each kiss got lower and lower until he reached your pussy. He looked up at you teasing you. “Negan jus-” He cut you off with the feel of his tongue on your cilt. He moved in circular motions making you move your hips with each movement. You moaned loudly and moved your head to the side making you see the door was open.  "Negan…“ You managed to get out, ”…the…door is op-“ You let out a deep breath and he looked up. "It’s open” you go out and he grinned and stop which made you sigh.

“It’s ok baby. Let my men hear how good I make you feel.” He moved up and pulled your top off showing your plain grey bra. You weren’t expecting anything like this to happen today, so you didn’t exactly dress in your best underwear. But he didn’t seem to mind as his eye widened looking at your breasts in your bra. He removed his clothes and before you knew it his full length was in you. You moaned loud at the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you as your walls tightened. “You feel so good!” you said as he looked down at you. “You haven’t felt nothing yet baby” He grinned as he started to move faster and faster in you, reaching the right spot each time. You couldn’t help my moan, sign, breath deeply while he did this. You never had such good sex. He grabbed your leg and put it on his shoulder only making him go deeper inside of you. “Negan” you screamed. “Yea?” he grinned knowing what he was doing to you. “You like it like the baby? Come on let everyone know how much you like my fucking big dick” His voice made you even more turned on as you felt a weird but nice feeling building up inside of you. You had felt this feeling before but never this good. “Negan… I’m gonna cum?” “Come on Y/N. cum for me.” You arched your back and rolled your eyes as the feeling in your stomach burst. You legs shook on his shoulder as he held it. “NEGaaan” you screamed feeling him get faster. You managed to look up at him and he took his dick out letting your cum drip out. “That’s my girl!” then he slammed back into you. Your body was weak from the orgasm and he loved it. “Fuck!” He mumbled. His breathing got fast and he pounded a few more times before pulling out. You sat up and took hold of his dick making him cum on your face. “FUCK! Y/N you naughty girl!” you smiled as his cum dripped down your face and you wiped some parts off to taste it. “Damn girl! At this rate, I think I could go again.” He laughed. “Here’s a blanket. Clean yourself up and then we’ll get dressed and I’ll take you to our room” “Are you kidding me? There was a blanket? This floor was freezing” “Well, next time we can do it in a much better place!” He winked while you both got dressed.

Requests are open!: HERE

[doodlewash]

My name is Mark Garner.  I live in Palo Alto, California.  My passion for nature, places, and different cultures is at the core of my inspiration and the subject of my work.  I am a realist with my brushes.

In 2010 after 25 years of real estate sales I “retired” to pursue my passion – watercolor painting.  A big thanks to my wife for supporting us during this time.  Because I had been busy raising a family and building a career I literally painted 5 paintings in those 25 years. It came to the place that I could no longer walk into an art gallery, knowing that I should be creating…not necessarily to grace a gallery…just necessarily to use the talent God gave me.

Other than one painting class at San Jose State University in the late 70’s, I am self-taught.  That one class though was very important.  In it I was introduced to the painting technique that I employ today.  I am forever grateful to Professor Brose!

Today I am back in the workforce, so instead of painting 5-6 days a week for 6 hours a day, I paint about 4 days per week with two of those days being 6-8 hours and a couple more days of 2-3 hours.

As you can see I am not a “traditional, transparent” watercolorist.  I am an opaque realist, who cares about detail and how those details can excite the viewer.  I should mention that during the 5 years that I was unemployed, I created about 50 paintings.  My paintings average 60-100 hours each, so I was averaging about one painting per month.  Today being that my studio time competes with a 40 hour work week, I am now creating a finished piece in about 6-8 weeks.

So, back to my technique… obviously I work from photos.  And fortunately for me and clients, the photos don’t have to be award-winning images.  Composition is what’s most important, followed by color.  It’s not about reproducing a photo in paint.  It’s about creating a piece of art that enriches life, brings back fond memories, encourages an adventure, or simply makes you feel good.  Often, I will paint from multiple images, use some artistic license, or if the client wants a particular image that’s what I give them.  Friends were interested in seeing my paintings in process, so I created a blog where I post images of my works in progress.

I am an opaque watercolor artist.  What does that mean?  It means that I use multiple layers of paint, and in some places I include white gouache.  When you do that your paint becomes opaque.  For a long time, I was embarrassed to admit to painting in an opaque style, because it wasn’t “traditional”.  Years ago I had a couple of pieces accepted into an exhibition where I overheard an art teacher tell her student that my paintings weren’t real art, and weren’t worth even creating.  I think she preferred transparent!  It took me awhile to get past that, but today, who cares?  Enjoy “your style”, let ‘er rip, and let the critics suck it.

For me, to get the results I want I work almost exclusively on Arches hot press watercolor board.  20”x30”.  I just recently completed a painting “Vernazza” on a 30”x40” board…that was a lot of brush strokes.  I thumbtack the board to a wood sub board so that it stays as flat as possible.

I used to paint only with Winsor & Newton Series 7 brushes.  Then a few years ago they became hard to get, and so now my brushes of choice are Escoda Reserva Kolinsky. The tips don’t last nearly as long, but they are a lot less expensive so it’s a wash.  90% of my work is accomplished with size 4 brushes down to 000.  I lay out skies and large areas with a 2” brush and a number 8 round.

My paint of choice is Daniel Smith Extra Fine Watercolor.  My palette is made up of 19 different colors, and none of them are black.  When I want deep black I use Payne’s Gray.  For me Payne’s Gray has a color richness that is preferable to any black.  Oh, and I have done a handful of paintings on Ampersand Aquaboard.  There’s an interesting material.  Check it out… it’s unique.

So, as I mentioned earlier I have a passion for travel, culture, places, people.  These days I only photograph with my cell phone…the image quality is just fine, and I don’t look like Joe tourist. After I return home, I number all the photos I have taken that I think might make for a good painting, and set them aside.  I then go back a day or so later and see what image inspires a painting.  I then print out that number painting on premium glossy paper and there is my reference material.  At times, it might be 2-3 glossy pieces of paper that become my reference.  The painting I am involved with now “Stockholm Harbor” is 6 different reference photos.

When it comes to subject matter, landscapes I would say are my favorite. And that’s simply because I love nature.  I’ve walked coast to coast across northern England.  Last fall I walked with my wife across northern Spain, the 500 mile Camino de Santiago.  I’ve walked in Nepal for a month with Everest basecamp as the high point.  And through the years I’ve spent many weeks in the high Sierras of California.

Nature is a Spiritual thing for me. It’s there that I get closer to God, get recharged in my daily life, and find the most inspiration for creating. The great thing about nature is, you come across a lot of great stuff. Trees, water, animals, beaches, mountains, clouds (tough to paint), and fellow travelers and pilgrims recharging their own batteries, or simply living their daily lives.

My paintings start with as few pencil lines as I can get away with. I tighten all my paintings up with my brushes and paint. I guess that’s why they take so long. But for me, my joy is in the details.  Often I paint using a magnifying glass to make sense of what little detail is hiding in the photo. While I am creating a painting, if I shot the photo, I am enjoying the memory of being there, the excitement I felt. If a client shot the photo I am enjoying what they saw, why this is meaningful to them, and hoping to get there if I haven’t been.  I want my work to be a great memorial.

I want to finish with a word of encouragement. I learned a valuable lesson those years ago when I overheard the teacher criticize my work. It was mean and unnecessary.  She simply could have said to the student, that’s not my style or my preference.

There’s no right or wrong, good or bad with art! It’s perfectly fine to have preferences, in fact that’s needed.  Believe it or not, I’ve never painted plein air.  I‘ve never completed a painting in a day, let alone an hour.  I envy those of you who can do this.

Yes, I am probably missing out on something, or maybe, for me, I am not.  Some would look at my art and say, “loosen up!” I look at some art and I say, ”I don’t get it”,”I don’t understand”.  All of this is great!  We need all art, everyone’s creativity.  We don’t know each other’s stories.  And if we did, that would remove some of the mystery, and allow for more acceptance.  So, I thank Doodlewash for being a place where watercolor art and artists are appreciated, and known.  Keep doing your thing.  Create, explore, stay to your course, whatever blesses your life and others.  Hey… bring some joy!

Mark Garner Website Blog

#WorldWatercolorMonth GUEST ARTIST: "Committed To Bringing Joy Through Art" by Mark Garner My name is Mark Garner.  I live in Palo Alto, California.  My passion for nature, places, and different cultures is at the core of my inspiration and the subject of my work.