#his dumb little face is so fun to draw <3 love him

[villowstar]

i have so many pages of my sketchbook dedicated to just flowey doodles.

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

-

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

[tyunkus]

hi idk if this counts as a hard thought but i wanted to know what do u think are each member’s favorite way to either make YOU cum or are their favorite ways to cum themselves (fingers, tongue/mouth, cock, anal, etc) ?

does that make sense omg sorry my wording is bad!!

this makes perfect sense dw anon!!!!! this is such a good question omg (more under the cuttt)

for yeonjun i see eating you out as his favorite way to make you cum :3 everyone in txt is a munch but he kinda just has the natural pussy eater look if you get what i mean HAHA he has the most perfect lips for it! so plush and supple and theyd look perfect wet with your arousal... his cute lil tongue peeking out to lick the excess off his bottom lip, his pretty eyes all fluttery while you buck your hips up into him HAKSAKS his hands slide underneath your butt n hes pulling you closer to him, nose brushing against ur puffy lil clit, hes gonna taste every bit of u while you cum all over his gorgeous face <3

i think soobin lovesss to make u cum on his fingers :') idk his hands are so long and slender and pretty and they would look so so much lovelier dipped inside of you, covered in your wetness, circling over your clit.. and theyre so fucking big too i think that would turn him on as well, just seeing how big his hand is compared to ur cute lil cunt AUHRUWHRW he starts off a little slow, easing u into it, building it up while covering you in bites,,, your back arches off the bed while you cum and his cock twitches in his briefs LOL

beomgyus a simple man his favorite way to make you cum is on his dick LOL he has fantastic excellent stroke game he would be so rough on ur poor pussy :(!!!! slamming in all the way to the hilt n his fingers pressing down on your neck n hes looking down at u with this drunk look on his face ughh he cant get enough of you especially once ur creaming all around him

huening kai UGHHH TBHHH i think he would like making you cum on his cock too jfsjsdj but in a different way!!!!! hed love to draw it out, go painfully achingly slow so he can watch every single one of your expressions as you slowly lose all your senses cuz of his fat cock inside of u hehe the way your eyebrows tick upwards and your lips fall open and your eyes roll back in your pretty lil head, all of these little reactions only encourages him to tease you more til ur cumming all over him <3

tbhhhh. i think taehyun would like making you cum on his tongue.....something about how just his fucking mouth - not even his cock!!! - is making you writhe and squirm underneath him rly gets him going :( he would make fun of you so much for it!!!! his cock isnt even out but hes still making you feel so good, go all dumb for him huh :( what a dumb girl

[valley-of-headcanons]

You asked for request so here’s a fun silly one. Bachelor reacting to the farmer getting annoyed and yelling “Bite me!” In the middle of a fight/argument. Do they? Don’t they? Or does it just had fuel to the fire? Enjoy and have fun~

bachelors reacting to “bite me!” || headcanons

in the middle of a small argument, your words move faster than your brain. well, here goes nothing!

warnings: slightly suggestive at times? not really tho

requested by: anon! hiya, thank you so much for requesting! sorry for the mini-hiatus. life moves so fast sometimes. this isn't really well written, i apologize, not my finest but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! <3

alex

• Alex stared at you for a minute. The nature of the argument was playful, and your statement made him just want to tease you more. He playfully smirked at you, placing his hands on your hips with a small chuckle. He was pretty tall, so he was most likely looking down at you, a devilish grin on his lips.

• “Where?” he said, laughing softly. Seeing your face grow red, realizing what you've just said, he held back his laughter. He loved seeing you all flustered, and he's sure you just said that out of instinct. “Now you're getting all shy? You're no fun,” he fake-pouted. He released his grasp and watched you practically explode. It was really, really entertaining for him.

elliott

• Elliott wasn't expecting such a remark from you. He gasped playfully, placing a hand on his chest. It was like you had just insulted his entire family line and spit on his grave. How dare you say such a thing! He was really playing up his response, drawing it out in his dramatic way. That's just Elliot, and you absolutely love to see it.

• “Why would you say something so cruel?! To even suggest that I would do something as crude as biting you? That's preposterous! Gosh- that is so offensive- I don't think we should speak anymore. I will never utter a single word in your direction for the rest of eternity. Goodbye,” he said, his hand coming up to block you. He didn't mean it, he loves messing around in his own little way. What a man.

harvey

• Harvey's face flushed a bright red. He didn't expect such a comment, and it made his stomach do a somersault. He cleared his throat, taking a step back. Readjusting his coat, Harvey wracked his brain for things to say. You were so smug about it! You just stared at him with a big ole grin. Little bastard. He had no idea what to respond with, becoming a stuttering mess!

• “W-What?- wh- ... huh? H- ... How does that even come to mind in a situation like this? ... why would I bite you?- oh- you meant it as- ... I apologize for the misunderstanding- ... what do you mean, it's cute?!” he said, getting even more flustered as you kept going. The poor guy can never catch a break while you're around. You may be a menace to society, but you're Harvey's menace.

sam

• Sam says the phrase pretty often, so the fact that you started saying it practically warms his heart. But he's been waiting for the day someone says it to him. His perfect response, his perfect rebuttal. Sam doesn't get these moments often, so he's prepared! This is it, he's going to get you back so good! Hah, you're going to be practically speechless after you hear this!

• “Bite you? ... uhh- ... no, you probably taste like- ... hot dog water, or something else ... equally ... gross ... man, I really thought I had a good comeback this time,” Sam laughed, looking away nervously. He's just a little dumb, but you have to admit, it was probably the best response to that statement you've ever heard. So yeah, it did leave you speechless. Maybe not in the intended way, though.

sebastian

shane

• Sebastian softly smiled at your stupid little remark. It was cute, he had to admit. You were really cute in his eyes anyway. He loved you being “annoying,” even though others might not. It was amusing, and he loved every little aspect of you. Your little quirks are always fun to analyze on his end. So, he wanted to see how you'd react to this.

• “So you argued with me to ask me that? I would've done it without the argument, I'd bite you whenever,” he said, his face flushing softly. Yeah, he didn't think he'd say something like that either. You were bringing a playful and slightly more confident side out of him! Your face was just about as flushed as he was, both of you now sitting in flustered silence. How the tables have turned.

• Shane was going to fuck with you. Of course he was. His dry sense of humor, his slight pettiness. He loved fucking with you in little ways like this, especially when you were “upset.” His face was completely deadpan, staring at you for a few seconds. Silence filled the room for quite some time before he gave his response, leaving you questioning what was going through his head.

• “Disgusting. Why would you ever suggest that? That's fucking gross, man,” he'd say, before moving closer and softly sinking his teeth into your neck. He'd pull away, a smug grin on his face. “Don't ever suggest that again. Do you think that I'd do something as revolting as biting you? Geez, you need some serious therapy.”

[f1nalboys]

OMG. I love the tod headcannons. Would you ever do ian sleepover headcannons?

HELLOOOO ANON sorry this has taken so long, i do apologize and i hope its fun to read!!!!

WORD COUNT: 916

WARNINGS: not proofread, weed mention, ians a perv on occassion, mostly fluff

ok number one i need a sleepover with this guy NOWWWWWW

ian refuses to call it a sleepover. you two are hanging out, chilling, that’s all. if he spends the night then thats just what happens, it totally wasn't his end goal

i truly believe ian sleeps better in anyone elses bed than he does his own not for any particular reason he just loves the feeling of being on vacation and being in a different bed counts to him fr

he comes over with nothing. like deadass the clothes on his back and maybe some weed IF UR LUCKY 

he also tends to show up ‘just for a bit’ and makes a big show about sighing at the time and being like man…. i wish i didn’t have to leave but its almost time for bed……..

like girl just ask to sleep over who cares

anyways he really hates Planned Sleepover Activities

no pillow fights, no truth or dare, no spin the bottle (this can and has been done before with him, he just has to be in the mood,) no bloody mary, etc

now, of course, if he really really really loves you, he’ll do all those things and more. he is going to COMPLAIN though. like, to the point where it’s almost unenjoyable. 

he does love a good spa day though…. you ask him to put on a fuzzy robe so you can put a face mask and cucumbers on him and he’s jumping for joy lowkey

and he lets you paint his nails and stuff and he doesnt care if its messy or bumpy or if you don’t put a top coat on it, he just loves that youre doing it for ihm

ANDDDD its the quietest he’ll be. youll look up at his face and hes staring down at you with such a sickeningly sweet love sick grin that its almost enough to make you barf and he won't say a single word until youre done

and even then he’ll just go “its great baby, thank you.” heheh

like 3 hours later he’ll go “you got a lot of nail polish on my skin, god damn.” and you’ll look over and hes very methodically picking it off of his skin lol

anyways. when hes over he just wants to chill genuinely 

ian is interested in getting chinese food or pizza, getting super fucking high, and having movies or music in the background while you guys talk

and he really only does one on one sleepovers, siblings or family excluded. if you invited another friend to sleepover at the same time hes gonna be in the corner like ugh…..sigh……eyeroll…..ugh…..what no im fine its whatever……sigh…..

ian is super handsy as is but when he gets tired hes worse

you’ll know hes ready for you two to go to sleep when hes suddenly attached to your back, arms around your waist and head in your shoulder

ian loves sleepovers that are simply for you two to get shit done

like ian has to rework an art piece? hes coming over and youre finally gonna clean your room.

he tries to sleep in his regular clothes all the time (he does it at home i fear to say) so if youre against that you HAVE to have some spare clothes for him. or let him sleep in his underwear but then he’s gonna get that dumb stupid sexy grin on his face and ask if youre trying to get him naked 

which like yes ian i am but not like that….yet

waking up with ian is great if you get up before him because hes all cuddly and sweet and murmuring in his sleep and you can just stare and admire him

if he gets up first hes waking you up but hes also fucking with you

he shakes you awake and is like BABE YOU OVERSLEPT FOR XYZ!!!!! and you jump out of bed and hes like haha got you just kidding

or he draws on your face or arms if youre a heavy sleeper and he can get away with it

AND he takes photos of you sleeping all the time on his shitty little flip phone and he never tells you about it

until like weeks later when youre hanging with him in the car eating food and he laughs and turns his phone around to show you a picture of you slumped over, mouth open, drooling.

but hes a menace

hes like well im up so i need you up to????

like god bless erin for dealing with him 

but you dont have to worry about it much, he normally sleeps in if hes able to but depending on when he went to bed, he could get up before you

and good luck trying to go back to sleep because hes hitting you with pillows and squashing you and talking until you just roll your eyes and sit up

and then hed smile and go omgggg good morning sleepyhead LIKE SHUT UP

overall, ian is a fun guy to have a sleepover with if you just want to chill, not if you want to do activities if that makes sense

but hes never going to ASK to spend the night (unless youre in the car with him about to get dropped off and hes kissing you and get handsy and THEN he’ll be like babe…. cant i just hang out :((( like sigh…. of course you can bae

[andromeddog]

helllooooooooo love!! this is your secret santa, whispering on the wind to you... 🌬❄️

i am incredibly honored to be making something for you for this event - your art is absolutely breathtaking! you are such an icon in this fandom!! thank you for sharing you beautiful work with us, and hopefully this will be something to show in return how much you are loved and admired!!

a few questions to help me as i start thinking about what to make:

carwood lipton!! the man himself!! is there a scene or two of his that are your favorite, or you feel really encapsulates him? is there a look of his that's your favorite (in the ardennes, church scene, sweater at the movie, lieutenant dress outfit, arms out, etc)? are there any songs/lyrics that really speak to you for him OR for speirton??

i cannot wait to get started!!! and again, thank YOU for being such a beautiful part of this fandom!!

-😘🌬❄️

OUWAH AH AHHH AH 😭 hi anon!!!!! god thank u for the kind words… it is quite literally my pleasure to be making work in this fandom, there is def something to be said about fans of series that are 20+ years old hahah (they’re the best and i love them) everyone is so sweet and so lovely in the tags…

let’s get to the man the myth the legend carwood lipton. to prevent blasting everyone’s dash i’ve put my answers under a cut! but u should check out the visuals lol

okay let’s see hmmm i want to say the entirety of episode 7 lol. BUT i feel like lips best scenes aka the scenes that feel like they are when he is The Most Lipton… like i mean it’s gotta be the bombardment scenes for me… you get such a good range of who he is there! he’s first running through the forest while everything is exploding (both to find somewhere to hide but also yelling at the boys to find cover, to get to safety - bc he is a good leader and cares about them) then he’s in this half dug foxhole laughing his ass off with death staring him in the face (his monologue in this bit is so good, HES INSANE THERE IS SOMETHING DEEPLY WRONG WITH HIM <3) and as soon as that’s over he’s the first to get up and check on everyone, while telling the boys to stay put and stay safe (selfless team mom, again being the leader easy needs when dike isn’t)

really any of his scenes in the forest… i know that’s a lot but he’s just the best guy. like hes obviously suffering but he’s pulling through, he’s helping everyone dig holes and fortify cover and keeping their spirits up, he’s cracking jokes and letting them make fun of his nuts (lol) bc he knows it lightens the mood… and then the way he swipes luz’s cigarette after that dud almost

kills him is just… too good he’s like fuck this forest fuck this war and fuck me too give me that damn thing neow.

id be remiss not to mention The Church Scene also. humble king just went through every layer of hell and dragged easy company out with him and is still like ???? leader? who, me???? no sir couldn’t be. lipton i want to bite you. also also being like idgaf about any war crimes this weirdo may or may not have committed as long as you look after my boys you are good in my book. one of the only guys who is normal around speirs (tho again there is something deeply wrong w lipton so maybe that has something to do w it lol)

for lip songs…

bridge over troubled water by simon and garfunkel

learning to fly by pink floyd

for speirton……….. (oof i have A Few but here is a selection)

orange colored sky by nat king cole

too sweet by hozier

put your head on my shoulder by paul anka

bury a friend by billie eilish (LOLLL)

i wish i had something more articulate shit to say on lip and/or speirton but i am unfortunately kind of dumb and bad with character analysis 😭 ive tried my hand at writing fic for them but to mixed success lol… like i draw pictures and even that i struggle with HAHA basically lip is babygirl my special little guy. if ur wondering why i haven’t drawn him more it’s bc donnie wahlberg’s face tortures me. if ur wondering why i haven’t drawn much speirton it’s bc if i think about them too hard i start having heart palpitations. oh my god. i’ve scoured every fic (and i mean every fic. multiple times) and their tags for every scrap of content for them bc OUGH!

also see my comprehensive lip look book:

[samiwife]

Hi again can you do Headcanons and Preferences for Julian Casablancas ? I never found nothing about him, I would really love + the way you think and write it's perfect!

Of course! I love doing these. By far my favorite things to write! Also thanks for the support and request!!!! <3

Headcanon and Preferences 𓆩⟡𓆪 (Ft: Julian Casablancas)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

Always sings for you

Tries to take you on tour but you always say no

Playing with his hair is a constant

You wear his leather jackets

He always wraps his arms around you

He's unbelievably funny

He's also very wise and mindful

You could talk to him for HOURS

Sleeps face down like a corpse (haha, I'M SORRY)

He's insecure about his lips (thinks they're too thin)

He always snuggles his head in your chest

You make fun of his style a lot

Gets jealous easily

Pouts when he's jealous

He doesn't know it but he has MUSCLES

Radiates gentlemen vibes

HE IS VERY CHIVALROUS

Does everything for you like opening car doors, carrying you to bed, etc

He makes funny faces when alone with him

LEAVES HICKEYS EVERYWHERE ON YOUR BODY

Speaks so many languages

Loves touring

Eats so little (it concerns you)

He drinks and smokes (which you hate)

Wears nice black boots with tank tops

When he wears belts, it kills you

Chugs energy drinks

Draws a lot but also writes song lyrics a lot

His smile is everything

Flirts with his fans

Has the funniest stares when he looks at you

You sometimes help dye his hair

Very medium-sounding moans during sex

HOWEVER, he is very good at doing oral

His tongue is a skill

Him fingering you drives you crazy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He sings when he's alone

Gets slightly embarrassed when you hear him sing

Has a lot of vintage music stuff like a CD player and records

Would wear fake mustaches to make you laugh

He loves to make you smile or laugh

Holds your hand when you're scared

Piggyback rides are common

He may be insecure about his lips but he is a good kisser

Loves eating dessert

Would choose sweets rather than an actual meal

Loves comedy films and watches them with you all the time

Hates studying and books (thinks they're for nerds)

Also hates going shopping but does it for you

He can be very mean sometimes

He makes fun of you like how you make fun of him

Playfully pushes you and hits you

Always fake cry when you slightly hit him

He always wears funny T-shirts

Also loves Disney movies

Has an undying love for Mickey Mouse (LMAO)

Makes his own loom bracelets

You mock him for having a shirt that looks like a mechanic would wear

His morning voice is so hot

Rides his bike but he sometimes falls off it

Great with babies but terrible with kids

He tries to act like an older brother in front of kids

He acts like a father with babies

Overpacks while traveling

His nails are always clean and neat

Has crooked teeth but it's okay

For some odd reason, he loves playing golf

Hates cold weather

Always looks like a grandma when the weather is cold

He gets sick easily

You steal his necklaces and bracelets

His favorite vacation spot is NYC

Speaks fluent French

Speaks French to confuse you

He's kinda dumb but you always teach him

He loves music class

Has strong political views

Loves learning about philosophy

Loves learning about space and planets

Has glow in the dark stars around his bedroom

Has the weirdest decorations in his room like a rocksalt lamp and stalker-like pictures of you

His favorite animals are lizards

He tries to skateboard but he keeps falling

Lastly, he kisses you a lot on the lips, cheek, chest, and much more. He also tries his best to make a better life for you. He talks about marriage a lot with you.

THANKS 4 READING <3

[megamindsecretlair]

It's a Little Warm, Part 5

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Cursing. Angry Sam, brief Trauma Bucky. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Dirty talk, PIV, and unprotected sex. Part 5 of 5! Final chapter baby!! Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Sam caught you both and you have to navigate your loyalty to him and your growing feelings for Bucky.

Word Count: 2,385k

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | It's a Little Cold

A/N: Whew! Who'd have thunk it that this would evolve into 5 parts. I initially thought 6, but I think this is a good ending to this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you for supporting!! I was so nervous to start writing fanfic but ya'll were so supportive! I love ya'll and I love ya'll for all the comments and reblogs. They kept me going! Sorry if I missed any warnings. Likes are always awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @softimgyu @blackreaderatrisk @braverthanthenewworld @multiversefanfics @monaeesstuff @blackpinup22 @chaos-4baby ILY

“Shit,” Bucky said as he fixed his pants and shielded you from Uncle Sam’s angry glare. He left the pantry and closed the door, allowing you space to fix yourself.

“I said hands off, man. You couldn’t even wait a day?” Uncle Sam asked.

“It’s not like that! That’s not how–”

“Save it. This is bullshit and you know it,” Uncle Sam said. You couldn’t see them, but you knew that they were staring at each other. You hurriedly smoothed down your dress and wiped your face for any trace amounts of drool. 

You fixed your hair and then left the pantry to find Uncle Sam and Bucky facing each other. Uncle Sam had turned on the lights and you saw how intensely they were glaring at one another. It looked like some battle in a western. Both of them stood in wide stances as if they were about to quickly draw or start pummeling each other. 

They communicated silently and you stepped in between. “Stop this,” you said. 

“You’re no better than he is. This was supposed to be a fun and relaxing week for everybody. Not for you two to fondle each other in the fucking pantry.” Uncle Sam’s words and scathing look raked over you like hot coals. You felt small and dumb. His disappointment hurt worse than anything. Even worse than cutting off your parents because you knew that Uncle Sam cared about you.

But you weren’t a little girl. And what you and Bucky did was beautiful and heady. You refused to feel small about it. 

“Don’t talk to her like that. If you have a problem, deal with me.” Bucky stepped closer and you placed your hands on his chest. 

“I’m going to do a lot more than that.” Uncle Sam advanced on Bucky. You might as well have been a piece of paper. You could not stop two immovable forces so you moved out of the way. Uncle Sam pushed his shoulder into Bucky.

“Outside.” Uncle Sam walked to the front door and threw it open. Bucky sighed and moved to follow. You grabbed his hand. “This is dumb, don’t do this. He’s your best friend,” you said.

Bucky smiled bitterly and glanced at you. “What’s a few fists between best friends? It’s just how we let it out, we’ll be okay,” he said. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips. He placed a small kiss there and held it while looking into your eyes.

He followed Uncle Sam outside. Your gut twisted in knots. This was bullshit. But what hope did you have of stopping a super soldier and the dumbass who thinks he can take him? Because Bucky wasn’t going to fight back. You’d seen the resigned look in his eyes. You may not know everything about him, but you knew that he carried a lot of baggage with him. 

Men. You huffed as you followed. Once you got outside, it was pitch black except for the porch light and the moon overhead. Two dark shapes were close to each other and they were arguing. You couldn’t pick out everything, but you’re pretty sure Uncle Sam pushed Bucky.

Bucky let him and stepped back. He yelled something and Uncle Sam pushed him again. You got closer. “Stop!” 

“Stay out of this, Y/N,” Uncle Sam said. He was huffing from how mad he was. If this was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. 

“This is bullshit! We’re both adults!”

“If you were adults, then you would know how to control yourselves. This isn’t a place for all of that. My nephews are here. What if one of them found you instead of me?” Uncle Sam asked.

“Don’t pretend this isn’t some fucked up honor system you got in your head. You think you need to protect me or something,” you yelled.

“I do need to protect you! I swore that I would always look out for you. No sooner did I introduce you to Bucky and here you are!” 

“You make it sound like I preyed on her,” Bucky said. He sounded hurt. He stared at Uncle Sam with wide eyes and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Is that what you think of me?” Bucky asked.

Uncle Sam sighed and rubbed his face. “I know you’re a good man. But this is my niece we’re talking about,” Uncle Sam said.

“I’m not actually related to you, Sam,” you said. He gaped at you and stepped back as if you struck him. You took a deep breath and carefully looked at him. “We’re not blood related. I’m not actually your niece. Hell, I’m not even that much younger than you. But I have always looked up to you as an older brother. You were the brother I always wished for. You’re smart and kind and you’re fair. But you’re being a real dick right now.”

“ME?” Uncle Sam scoffed.

“You’re standing there and accusing Bucky of being a monster. That he lured me into the pantry to take advantage of me. The hell do you call that?” 

Uncle Sam opened his mouth to say something back but then he caught the look on Bucky’s face. He was trying hard to be neutral and had a blank look in his eye. But Uncle Sam visibly lost all steam. 

“You’re not a monster, man. I don’t think that,” Uncle Sam said. 

Bucky nodded mechanically. “Don’t do that shit, Bucky. I was…I was mad that instead of enjoying this week, you two hit it off so well and ignored all my plans. It was selfish. I know you’re not a monster. You never were. You’re my best friend. You may be old, but we’re good,” he said. He placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

A little light entered Bucky’s eyes. He looked at Uncle Sam and smirked. 

“I’m used to protecting everyone. I used to chase away Sarah’s boyfriends and did the same with Y/N when she was coming up. My natural instinct is that no one is good for them. But that’s not true. I know you are. I just hope you two understand what the hell you’re getting yourselves into.” 

“We’re not stupid. I know you guys put yourselves in danger every day. This is new for us too. Let us sink or swim on our own. It won’t affect our love for you,” you said. 

Uncle Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“It’s okay to admit that you were jealous. You’re used to having Bucky to yourself, I understand it,” you said.

Uncle Sam chuckled and swiped at you. You dodged out of the way, closer to Bucky. He still stood stiffly but he watched you two with amusement. You bumped your shoulder with his. “Hey,” you said.

He smiled at you. “Go on, tell Sam you love him too.”

Bucky shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s not get carried away,” he said.

“Nope. We’re not leaving this spot until you reassure Sam that you love him and that we’ll go along with all of his little plans for the week. And he’ll promise to stay out of grown folks’ business,” you said. 

The men stared at each other stubbornly. Pig-heads. You crossed your arms and glared at both of them. 

“I love you, man. You’re my brother,” Uncle Sam said. He held out his arms.

Bucky sighed and grinned. “I love you, too, brother.” They hugged and you smiled at them. 

“Just…be careful. I love both of you and I’m not picking sides.” Uncle Sam looked between you and Bucky. 

Bucky grabbed your hand and looked at Sam. “Won’t be a need for it.” 

Butterflies flipped in your stomach. You grinned at Bucky and he smirked at you.

“Whatever. Just…come find us when you’re done ogling each other. There are actual festivities to enjoy,” Uncle Sam said. He started to walk away and he waved in the air. “The sky is clear and shit. We need to enjoy it.”

You watched him until he disappeared through the front door. You moved to follow but Bucky held onto you and stopped you. You looked back at him. 

“Thank you, doll,” he said softly. It seemed like there was more he wanted to get off of his chest. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he chuckled and looked down at your joined hands. His thumb rubbed your hand.

“Hey. I can’t explain it, but this feels right for me. You never have to thank me for defending you. I want you,” you said.

“I want you, too. But you’re wrong. I do think there’s some thanks I need to do,” he said.

You gave him a confused look because you didn’t know what he was on about. He smirked and checked the front door. Then, he tugged you further into the darkness. You followed behind, your stomach flipping for entirely different reasons.

“We got a little interrupted earlier. If you can be quiet, I’ll show you how thankful I am,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. You wanted to make sure he was okay. He had looked so lost earlier. Not unlike the time you caught him in the kitchen by himself. He squeezed your hand. 

“Definitely sure,” he said. He pulled you closer and moved your hand down to his crotch. He was hard and growing harder by the second.

 “Oh,” you sighed. You were not expecting him to be turned on right now.

He pulled you away from the front porch light and past Uncle Sam’s car. In between the houses, there was nothing but darkness and open space. You saw three distant figures but couldn’t pick out anything specific.

Bucky pushed you against the wall. He leaned in with a devilish smirk. He crowded your space and blocked the limited light from the moon. You could only pick out general impressions of his face. 

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,” he said.

You sighed and bit your lip. Desire flooded through you. You gasped at the sharp coldness of his metal arm as he trailed his hands up your thighs and under your dress. He leaned down and kissed you. You cried softly at how wonderful and delicious his lips tasted. 

His fingers continued to search and knead. You wrapped your hands around his shoulders and pulled him closer. He chuckled as he licked your bottom lip. You fidgeted as he finally reached your panties and pulled them down and off. He squatted low to the ground and kissed your legs and then your thighs.

You played with his soft, dark hair. You wished you could see his face and see his eyes. His lips dragged wet kisses up your thighs with his fingers following behind. Your pussy fluttered. You needed this man. 

Your ragged breath was loud in the quiet night and Bucky finally showed mercy. He stood up and recaptured your lips with his, licking and nibbling. Using his metal hand, he lifted one of your legs until you were open for him.

“You are a treasure,” he said. He kissed along your jawline. He used his other hand to free himself of his jeans. He pushed his pants down far enough to gain some movement. 

There was no talking now. There was no need for filthy words. There was just quiet desperation as he slid into your wet heat and you both groaned softly from the feeling of him. He filled you completely. Earlier, you were so needy that you didn’t catalog everything. 

Now, you took in his quiet breaths. The smell of him. The glide of his cock inside you, slipping in and out with ease. The soft grunts as if being inside of you was the closest he ever got to heaven. 

He buried his nose into your neck and continued to stroke deep within you. It was slow and methodical but no less desperate. You clung to him. He supported you as if you weighed as much as a feather. 

You moaned and bit his shoulder to keep from crying out like you wanted to. You held on. You needed more. You needed him deeper, closer; if possible, you wanted to melt into him completely. 

Pressure built low in your tummy as your orgasm crested the surface. “You’re perfect, doll. You’re perfect for me. I can never thank you enough, for everything,” he said against your skin. His lips tickled your neck and you leaned your head back against the wall.

He felt so damn good. “You’re perfect for me. Never let me go,” you said. 

“Never, never,” he said. He sped up a bit. You clamped down on his dick and he groaned. “I know you’re close, doll. It’s okay, let it go,” he whispered in your ear.

On command, your orgasm rattled your bones from how hard you came. Bucky stroked you through it, whispering how pretty you were. He sounded like he was in awe. “So fucking pretty cumming for me. That’s my girl,” he said.

“Bucky…” you said. You held on as a second orgasm snuck up on you. You felt him smile against your neck. He leaned back to look at your face.

“So fuckin hot,” he said. He stroked a few more times before he grunted and spilled inside of you. He held you in place as he emptied every last stream. You felt him twitch inside of you as he held his head back and groaned.

Your ragged breaths mingled as you giggled. Trying to be quiet made the experience more intimate and magical. The moon and stars overhead, the perfect weather. Perfection didn’t exist, but perfect moments did. And perfect people.

You scratched idly at his hair as he finished. He kissed you again and you both laughed. “How is it possible that I just want to keep going?” 

You laughed and kissed him. “Probably because we can’t. But when this week is over? It’s on.” 

“Hmm. So what you’re saying is, I need to borrow Scott’s time machine,” he said.

You laughed and kissed his cheek. “What?” 

“Nothing, doll.” You got the hint that he was smirking at you. But he kissed you again and your thoughts scattered. 

Perfect.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

A/N: I really love ya'll. Seriously. All of your comments have just skyrocketed my confidence in my writing! Ya'll deserve all the forehead kisses.

There is now a follow up! If you enjoyed this series and miss these two, you can now read It's a Little Cold!

[hannahssimblr]

can you put on your creative director / marketing hat and talk about the cover art for lucky boy (and/or both) 🎤

!!! I've actually never been asked about visuals before this is so fun!!

Okay! So here's the cover in question

Honestly I love this and I was really proud of how it turned out.

The raw & more detail is below the cut

Alright! so the idea for this was that it's simply an image of Jude: finally free!

Here he is backpacking in Thailand which he hasn't done yet as of the date of this post, but Lucky Girl readers will know that he eventually Does Do That.

You can tell by his hair here too that he's older. He has this haircut when he reunites with Evie briefly in 2012, so I imagine this trip took place sometime around summer-autumn 2011.

To be honest the whole purpose of Lucky Boy was as sort of an extension of the original story for Lucky Girl readers who wanted more in-depth detail about Jude's life, more than what he ever had the time to tell Evie during her portion of the story, so for that reason the story is filled with little hints of what we know will happen, as well as nods to specific things about him that some have already learned - Like, how the story opens with him getting both ears pierced. The fact that he was a boy with two (and eventually 3) piercings was something that Evie found particularly cute and unique about him, and it's something he references in jest from time to time. ("haven't you seen my cute little earrings?")

Anyway, Thailand is where he gets that rather meaningless forearm tattoo, but it's also a place where he spends a lot of time alone. He does travel with a friend, but said friend is holed up with food poisoning for a significant chunk of the trip, which makes me quite certain that Jude spent a lot of time doing a lot of thinking. I'll explore this more in the actual story when I get there, but it's worth pointing out that when Evie meets him after this trip she notices a certain calmness in him, and like he's lost a lot of the boyish energy ("I realise I am looking at a man"). I feel like this trip is somewhat responsible for that.

He's also, clearly, facing away from the camera, which is probably self explanatory. In the chapter with Jen's birthday, as they take the train to the aquarium in Bray he waxes lyrical (as usual, yawn!) about his preference to sit facing the engine, never looking back. It's the same in this image. He is always moving forward.

YET - that is his school bag. (It is the wrong colour, yes, i didn't have the recoloured version when i made this poster lmao) so there's a sense that he's still in some way tied to childhood, to the things that are unresolved. Lucky Girl readers already know what (and who) those things are but I'll develop all that further from my controllers seat here inside Jude's brain.

"It seems like we wanted the same thing (...) Not to grow up too quickly, like, to be allowed to just be a kid.”

Also - the toy attached to it represents Ivy. It's never explicitly stated in the story, but I think it's probably not in his character to have something like that on his bag unless it was gifted from someone important. So, he's carrying her with him too on his travels.

Now, for the artistic stuff (eek!)

I chose this pinky purple as the base colour by messing around with some hard light blending and the colour balance adj. because it creates that kinda fantasy feeling, like wonder and/or enlightenment is ahead, which hopefully for our dumb boy, it is. Purple is also often used in graphic design to indicate creativity, which is apt, seeing as he's an artist and all that.

I slapped in some sun in the corner ala 3 year old child's drawing, and added the text in yellow for no reason other than it's a complementary colour, and it picks up some of the yellows in the image.

Then added a text gradient to blend it in better and a little drop shadow effect

And finally some grain, paper texture and rounded corners because I wanted it to feel tangible, that sweet, nostalgic 35mm camera effect, or like a postcard.

and that's it!!

This was so fun, you know I love 2 yap and you gave me a platform to do so.

Thanks so much for your question!

[lil-demi-boy]

OMG your mw sketches are so good! especially beebs love shrike jojo pose and i would love to hear your theories : 3

Aaaa thank you!! I love drawing them both a whole lot, but I definitely need to draw more Beebs <3

But yeah as for theories, they'll be under the cut Big shout out to my friend CL for helping me like, break the show down and get ideas going and thinking of a few of these first

(Also heads up, I just finished typing out Shrike's theories and it's long as hell so big read ahead)

Okay so some Shrike thoughts

He's canonically the last of his species, but he doesn't seem too torn up about it like Beebs seems to be about his own past, so is he just really good at hiding that pain or does he genuinely have no regrets?

If he is hiding his pain, the Terran obsession could be his coping mechanism, he hides in El Bandito cartoons so he doesn't have to face the truth that once he's gone, his whole species is

On the flipside, in the show, he seems to sleep just fine, dreams about normal things, never seems to have anything bothering him consciously or subconsciously, so I actually think he's genuinely fine over being the last of his species

I'll get back to that in a minute though, for now I'd like to look at his style: we know he wears a suit he got from being a member of LAW, and his guns match his suit/shoes, so I imagine he got the guns with the suit and was trained by LAW how to use them

He also claims "this is all I know!" when Beebs tells him to stop shooting in ep 3 so it's not hard to imagine he went straight from knowing little about fighting into LAW (unlike Beebs, who I'll get to)

With his LAW history in mind and seeming lack of care about the eradication of his species, it makes me wonder if the two could be connected

There's the Hunted theory, the Superman theory, and the Bad Alien theory, two of which involve the storage crystal in the back of his head

Said crystal appears to be very important; it's limited, but it is hammer space, it could have a ton of practical uses, and would likely be something that bad people wanna get ahold of, plus in ep 2 (which is HEAVY with foreshadowing, even with stuff that happens in the episode itself) they point out Shrike's crystal several times, calling him the Mother Crystal, showing Beebs looking between Punti's crystal and Shrike's, even Dr. Agnes tried to pull it out of his head at one point, so I'm thinking someone's gonna want it

In comes the Hunted theory: Shrike's species is born with these crystals, or they're at least given at birth/a young age (with Shrike saying he's had his since forever in ep 2), but since they're so useful, other aliens started hunting his species down to kill them and take the crystals. Shrike was taken on to LAW bc he was one of the last few of his kind n they wanna keep an eye on them

Literally as I was typing I thought of another theory, the Foreshadowing theory: The way Shrike talks about what happened to him (LAW setting him up with a dumb job after) makes me think it was actually more like a mass extinction, much like how Punti is the last of his kind after a mass extinction, one that LAW showed up afterwards to find and take the last one into custody, though in this theory, I think Shrike's crystal and the multiple comparisons between Shrike and Punti may point to Shrike being the only one of his kind with that crystal in his head

Which is also the case in the Superman Theory, where his family knew they were all gonna die, so they put Shrike in a pod (either being born with or given the crystal) and sent him off to protect him as they all die (which yeah isn't original but come on, baby Shrike)

Finally there's my favorite theory (NOT the one I believe in the most, just the one I think is the most fun to write for), the Bad Alien theory: why would Shrike be so carefree about his whole species being dead? Well what if they were actually a horrible species, like the Krill in Orville? They're blood-thirsty conquerors responsible for wiping out plenty of other species, and something about Shrike (maybe the crystal?) made him different and decide this wasn't okay, so he finds a way to work for LAW and be their spy on the inside, helping his species get captured and killed as punishment for all the pain and destruction they've caused while Shrike gets a job for helping them out so he can stay on his feet

Also not a theory or anything, I just love the detail that Shrike's chair in the Bucket has a spot on the headrest that's been scratched out by Shrike's gem, idk how they thought of that but that's so smart

Anyway that's enough about Shrike, let's get on to Beebs

Beebs oh man, sweetie, my baby boy, he has got to have a sad fuckin backstory. He's missing 3 of his 4 limbs, he implies he's lost at least one loved one, he's just so iudhfishuis I love him

Anyway, in episode 3 when he's talking to Us, he mentions he's been through losing someone "once or twice", which to me points to the possibility that he lost his partner or his family, but tbh I think he lost his wife (or whatever gender partner you prefer to think of him with) and child

He's very fatherly, taking the lead and being gentle and patient and understanding, plus in ep 2 when the Lythop that went in Shrike's head was crying, Beebs was already bent on a knee and ready to hold the lil guy like a dad comforting his crying kid, and in ep 3 he sits in with Shrike and lets him talk about El Bandito like a kid showing off their favorite cartoon to their dad (plus it makes him a dilf)

There's also another character we've seen in promo art, Champion Ajax, who looks like a Walrinian like Beebs is, and his name being Champion Ajax (among other things I'll get to) gives me the impression that maybe this species is battle-heavy and loves to throw down

They're physically imposing and tall, plus Beebs is shown to be a skilled fighter with both his close range hammer and long range grenades; I wouldn't be surprised if he could use every weapon in his light stick thing tbh

With champions and a proficiency in mixed weapons, what if Beebs' species takes part in gladiator type sports? Fighting each other for the fun and glory with the biggest and strongest of them all being the champion

If this is the case, I do think Beebs might've been a champ at one point, but he finally lost or quit

I don't have fancy names for these theories, n they're more like thoughts anyway but like

It's possible he lost his limbs during his run as Champion and that led him to quit (he didn't seem interested in getting any more parts of him made mechanical, as evidenced by his response to Shrike telling him to get an internal translator)

But the way sadder option is that whatever took his limbs is also what took his family, like some kind of explosion or something, or even worse, something that he did caused it

If you'll notice, sometimes when he opens his mouth wide, you can see two weird, round "teeth" in the corners of his mouth, which come to find out are actually where his tusks should be (side note: BLESS the artist who drew him with his tusks that one time, I love it)

So why doesn't he have his tusks? Were they cut off because he quit being Champion? Maybe he was blamed for the death of his family n cutting off tusks is a sign of shame/exile

Him being exiled may count for why he's in Monkey Wrench right now, like in ep 3 he clearly wasn't sure he was cut out for merc work so I highly doubt this was his idea, he likely needed a job to keep himself afloat, and here came Shrike

On that note, I wonder about Shrike and Beebs' relationship, cause when talking to Us, Beebs said that Shrike is his friend "or something"; have they just not known each other long enough to really call each other friends, or does Shrike just annoy him n that was a joke? How long have they known each other? Maybe they met through LAW at some point?

That's about all I got, but yeee thank you for asking, and apologies if it's a lil too long

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapter #02

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Continuation of my Trigun annotation for the book club. I'm doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc. (and being gay about the characters <3 always important)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And the rest is under the cut. read my notes boy!!

[link for if the images aren't in horizontal rows]

The second page has an error - 悪夢 was probably misread as 悪魔 ("happen" and "awaken" are also the same kanji). It should be "Then, the nightmare occurred." It's really cool that this still works really well considering...y'know (not saying for the first-time readers ;) )

I just love how that drawing of Vash is so cool and serious...

...and then you turn the page and he's in the most pathetic cunty pussy-out pose you've ever seen. Easily one of my favorite panels. Also made a math question for funsies. sorry to anyone who got high school flashbacks, but I absolutely loved trigonometry lmao. I could do this forever.

A little pun(?) that may or may not be intentional - In Japanese, someone with a bounty on their head is called 賞金首, lit. "bounty neck" ("neck" sometimes signifies the entire head). The locals call out for the bounty-neck right as Vash hurt his neck lol

I love how creepy Vash moves sometimes. absolute cryptid

This is entirely a Japanese-only detail, but I really loved how Vash said バヤイ (bayai) in the sobbing in French line, because my mom also says that instead of 場合 (baai) when she's being silly lmao. Also, it's notable that in Japanese, Vash says フランセ語 ("Francé-go," where "go" is the suffix for languages) which may be either another miles->iles/double-dollar situation, or just him speaking silly like バヤイ.

Also, the line after that would more accurately be "How am I supposed to deal with all these locals?"

Here, the "Really?" is actually Meryl saying something like "I'll give you a hint."

Meryl tends to be the one responsible for the braincell in fanworks but it's important to remember that she absolutely is dumb too (affectionate).

I'm so glad I wrote that reminder about Meryl's speech, but I don't think I'll be able to do it justice here when I have so much more to talk about. I'll have to write another post later, so I'll link it when it's done. The gist is that she talks like a stereotypical high-class anime girl, and the trope is from how a similar demographic in Meiji-era Japan actually spoke.

The boy's pussy faces the world yet again. I love all the faces he makes!! look at him!!!!!!!!!!! he's so cute

The text on the board here was very messy and squished, but it says something like "Vash the Stampede Absolute Capture Task Force Headquarters." Honestly don't know how to fit all that into the board though so uh good luck on that for 2.0... Also dear god Vash has so much energy... He's just been running for 3 hours straight...!!

Fun fact: the equivalent idiom to "fight fire with fire" in Japanese is "use poison on poison."

Love how Nebraska is just like "no we didn't jailbreak, we just let ourselves out :/"

Translation error for Milly and the chairman - Milly is saying "Why do things keep getting worse and worse!?" and the chairman is mumbling "What's the deal with you two..."

Showing some love for his pretty pretty eyes..........(gives him so many smooches in my head)("i can imagine anything" image)(can't add it because i reached the 30 image limit)

The "Freeze!" is actually untranslated, just re-typed to match the surrounding font. Also, that panel is the first time Vash's antennae is shown bent!! It goes back up immediately after that though.

Fun fact #2. Vash says ara ara. if you even care.

This line never fails to hit me hard. They're all desperate mothers and sisters, and they're taking on the bad role because nothing's more important than their dear children. (reminds me of a certain someone...)

I've seen someone mention this before, but Trimax definitely adjusted the number of plants. Fifty!?!? Also, in Japanese, "plants" and "died" were in quotations.

I love the gun pull in the right panel. Vash obviously definitely doesn't intend on shooting, but is rather showing off his skill and resolve as an intimidation tactic to throw the girls off-guard.

God this entire spread is just so RAW.... (here's the post that's mentioned in blue. it just reminded me)

Some more hypes and sillies. The impact that "KISS MY ASS!!" had on my first read was phenomenal!! It's so silly!! and cool!!!

And then there's this!! Another favorite part of mine. Vash's antennae are bent again! They kind of alternate between straight and bent from here.

The green writing about the onomatopoea are more of just a translation note rather than a suggestion. I can't think of any good beckoning noises in English :V

And finally, Milly calls "Mr. Bomb" "Bomb-kun" in Japanese which I think yall would enjoy lol. And happy strangling her saturday tuesday.

The Japanese version of the annotations are in the reblogs, if anyone wants them.

I have Chapter #03 mostly ready, so I'll probably post it tomorrow morning and try to speedrun the rest of the chapters because this is taking longer than I expected!! God there's just so much to say!! (Also gotta remember to write about Meryl's speech!!)

And thank yall so much for the feedback on the Chapters #00-01 post!! I didn't know so many people were interested in such small details!! Love (and peace) yall 🫶🤞

[oh-wow-a-drawer]

I love your art!!

Opinions on angelbutter?

Thank you for the kind words!!! ✨💖3💖✨

As for the question, I think I should point some of the things out:

- First of all, the Frostpegg duo has incredible chemistry both on and off set and every scene including both of them just. looks GOOD bc they work together so well and their interactions are something else;

- Secondly, Hot Fuzz is a gay gay romcom. And it works! It's not annoying enough for me to hate the ship, which, to be honest, is rare;

- I am DOWN BAD for the "ah he's so tough and serious but he has a soft spot for the only special person in he life/ ah he's so dumb such a small little scrunkly but so cheerful and so cute" trope *coughs intensely, sliding my sketches under the bed simultaneously*

- simon pegg is a slut and there is no choice for me but to reach out to him with my filthy slutty hands and ship him with the lads;

So,

HF is a comedy, aimed, in general, to make fun of things, but Angelbutter stands out. I suppose Simon&co just went like "what if nick wins a stuffed toy for danny at the fare? oh yeah, let's make them watch movies and fall asleep together! etc etc" - purely random clichés just for fun, but they, in fact, worked! Worked because they fit the story and the characters - Nick doesn't get along with Danny just because they are in a romcom, but because he is naive, easygoing - an unexpected characteristics for Angel as he's used to boring, serious big city policemen(police officers, har har har), because he shows Nick that his job doesn't have to be his whole life, because Danny stands up for him, after all. Relationship is all about sharing the experience and the knowledge.

Someone has pointed out the parallels between Nick's relationship with his actual ex and his relationship with Danny - how different they are, and how much better does Angelbutter work because of how different Danny is.

I think what also works in Angelbutters favor is that they aren't actually canon, so their love line isn't stretched and doesn't look far-fetched or unrealistic - it's extremely lighthearted, as it should be, and it makes me believe in it, because they act like actual people would.

All in all- I love Angelbutter!! They are extremely sweet and boyfriends material, totally on my priority list X3

P.S. i don't draw them mostly bc danny's face is complicated, but these things take time and i'll figure it out >:)

[insect0idfreakaz0id]

can u give us a fun facts about wandeer please.................

YES I WOULD LOVE TO

some are like "headcanons" in a way and subject to change so I'll mark those with a *

• wander likes to do arts and crafts. he has hand puppets of him & klaus and he does a lot of drawings and paintings (which he isn't that good at). he also likes to sing/dance but doesn't do it very often (partially a nod to his first design being a singing/performing robot and not a weaponized robot)

• he has a lot of random collections (?) of things. he has a wall with several cat posters on it ("hang in there" posters mostly) drawers filled with stuff, he just likes to collect things.

• (continuation of previous) he also has a wall of crosses/crucifix, other religious symbols for protection, good luck charms, etc. wander is not religious but it's rather out of superstition and having delusions related to religion *

• he has pretty long hair, it stays pinned up under the box until he takes it off. despite not really needing to wear it anymore, he still feels like he does need to / that he needs his face to stay hidden, and also that it has become part of him now

• wanders boots are from his old job. his lab coat was from Klaus, back when he was alive, he gave one to wander while he was teaching them. wander modified it to fit more tightly around the body and flow outwards because he thought it otherwise looked a little too professional; though wander has an entire outfit taken from Klaus as well (after death) and uses that one to operate. the lab coat is not modified.

• wanders box has been with him for a while. he took it with him when he left Klaus to cover his face and has kept it since then.

• he is superstitious

• he's placed bells around most of the doors in his lab/house to alert him when someone enters

• wander isn't a "dumb" character, he was built knowing most things. it's more than his mind is constantly elsewhere, he has little opportunity to do anything with that knowledge, and he is (in current state) almost always frazzled or paranoid to some extent

• he knows most languages and is fluent in a few (english, Spanish, ASL). english was his first, as that's what Klaus speaks

• wander's physical damage is all on one side because Klaus repeatedly hit wander on that side while fighting him. he did not hit the other one

• he is ambidextrous

• wanders story currently has 3-4 potential canon endings - one where he continues to live as he did in the 15 years past klaus' death, one where he stops trying to carry on in life and lays without moving until he rots/degrades (like death but he's still aware and conscious), one where he gets worse, and one where he gets better. (there are also some noncanon joke endings I've considered) *

• I've purposely not labeled wanders mental state (not only because I'm afraid people will think I'm trying to make those with mental disorders look evil, but he's a robot, so it's kind of difficult) but it would be closest to schizoaffective [bipolar type 1], and potentially autism & hypersexuality — those two weren't intentional but something I've considered *

• more of one I regularly mention, but wander has a lot of human organs that he surgically transplanted into himself. none of them are arranged correctly, most of them are upside down, as in his heart is around the stomach area and his kidneys are in his chest. he does his own surgeries and stitches up himself

• wander is strictly against harming kids. I've had a lot of people think wander doesn't like kids / that he hates them, but he does like them and will refuse to hurt them in any way & tries his best not to do so unintentionally because his childhood wasn't good, and he doesn't wish that harm on any other children. if any did decide to come to his lab, he would try to take care of them as best as he could

• wander is not evil and does not enjoy killing. he killed Klaus, but still felt bad about it. he would not kill someone purposely without a lot of reason behind it. he is afraid of people (as in humans) but still wishes for friends and company, and wouldn't hurt/kill anyone without a reason (like them threatening him first)

• it is difficult to work out wanders age because of him being a robot, but after the 15 years of sitting alone, he is 42 years old. he was 27 when he killed Klaus. (I still need to work on how to word age for robots because it's not the same as a human or living animal of course)

• wander has been through multiple divorces (3 at least)

• he is genderfluid, pansexual, and aromantic (questioned him being something like cupioromantic before but it's not final). he uses all/any pronouns (though I mostly use "he" to talk about wander because mixing them can be confusing and only recently I've changed wanders pronouns from being she/her for several years to being all/any)

• he has a favorite tool/weapon that he brings with him everywhere, and it is a saw with a red handle. (I've questioned wander being objectum before but not finalized it; though he is affectionate and caring towards this weapon in specific rather than others, I've not decided on whether it's because it's his favorite or if it's because of something else)

• his neck and arms are attached by strong magnets. they're detachable, but not by human strength *

Ummm yeah thatis kind of a bunch but he's been around about 7 years now I think about him a lot and he's the most developed so 👍👍 I hope that is awesome THANK YOU

[barbiewritesstuff]

The Playboy And The Coffees

-- I know I need to upload part 3 of the Hotch series but I’m still writing it so here’s something else :) Playboy Hotch lives in my mind rent free.

Before I start… do y’all know how long I had to search to find Hotch’s handwriting??? Outrageous. Also yes, I know graphology is heavily critiques, but this is fanfic, let me pretend. 

Thank you to @lgg5989 :) and @ravensmadreads :) for beta reading and inspo!!!!

TW. Mentions of sex, violence and concussions and that’s it I think, Ope, no, also TW. for super out of character Hotch :) –

You don’t know much about your neighbour. You know his last name, because it’s on the post box. You know he has a monthly subscription to psychology today, and you know he sees his sons on weekends. And you know that because A. Hotchner, as his letterbox says, has a revolving door of women on all other days of the week.

And it’s starting to piss you off.

No, scratch that. You have just gone through a week and a half of gruelling shifts at the hospital. You have been scratched, bitten, attacked with a bedpan and called every bad name under the sun, and now the fucker next door, whom you share a bedroom wall with, is having sex loud enough that you could probably recognise the woman by voice alone. 

You are beyond furious. 

Furious enough, in fact, to march down to his flat and hit and kick his door until he opens it. He stands there shirtless, having hastily put on his underwear and with an angry frown on his face that disappears as soon as he sees you. You know you look like you’ve been through hell, and in your mind, you might as well have. Your hair is dishevelled, your scrubs are torn and one of your sleeves is hanging off limply, three large scratches red and swollen showing in the bit of uncovered skin. You look like you’ve walked away from a bear attack and you can see the thought cross his mind.

He opens his mouth to say something but you launch into a tirade before he can. You whisper-shout it, because you’re a decent person and you don’t want to wake anyone up, “It’s three am. I have come back from a twenty-four hour shift thinking I’d be able to have a good night of sleep, only to find out my dick of a neighbour is having a woman over -- and I’m not even going to call it having sex with her, because with the noise she’s making, I don’t know if she’s having fun -- do you realise I can hear everything? Every stupid thing you say? How you’re going to ruin her? How you’re going to make sure she can never walk again? How you love how dumb she gets for your dick? Buddy, no dick has that power, she’s just stupid. Which is why she’s sleeping with you. Either you keep quiet or I swear I am calling the police to report a fucking murder. And you best hope it’s not yours.”

Feeling slightly better, as though unleashing on your shitty neighbour has relieved you from the pressures of the day, you turn on your heels and walk to your own door, slamming the door as quietly as possible. Seconds later, you hear his door click shut and then their activities resume, punctuated every so often by him shushing her and telling her to be quiet. You draw yourself a bath, bubbles and all, and begin a cycle on the washing machine, ready to unwind before bed. It works a little too well and you wake up an hour later, shrivelled like a prune, with just enough energy to make it onto your bed before you crash again.

At seven, there’s a knock on your door and you go to open it, feeling frustrated. A. Hotchner stands in front of you, a little boy holding his right hand, his left one occupied by a coffee. 

“To apologise,” he says, extending the coffee towards you.

“Can I pet your cat?” the little boy says, “I know you have one. He’s black and white and he meows funny.”

You smile at the boy, “I do have a cat, but maybe you can pet him another day. I came home from work not that long ago and I’m very tired,” you explain to the child, before turning to your neighbour, “Usually when someone comes home at three in the morning, they don’t take well to being woken up at seven” you say, you grab the coffee and turn away, closing the door as quickly as you could, hoping that the wind slapped him in the face, something you really wish you could have done yourself. 

Inside, you take one curious sip of the coffee and immediately annoy yourself further. It’s good coffee. Probably from that upscale place in town that charges nearly ten dollars a small cup because their organic coffee is ground on site, which, you want to tell your sister whenever she gushes about their seven dollar espressos, you’re pretty sure all coffee places do. 

A. Hotchner also somehow managed to get the order just right, and even though it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you like caramel lattes since your recycling box is made up largely of your starbucks cups, you wonder how he managed to get that right and still forget that there were only four hours between three am and seven am. 

Luckily, you manage to sleep through the rest of the morning and wake up in better spirits than before. You have the rest of the very good coffee, which still manages to taste okay after being microwaved, forgotten and then microwaved again and set about studying for your postgrad exam. You resurface again just in time for dinner, like a bear coming out of hibernation, your mind so used to focussing that it’s hard doing normal things. 

The next day, the first Sunday you spend at home in about four weeks, is spent pretty much the same way, save for a good night of quiet sleep and no morning time interruption. Then, much to your dismay, Monday arrives and with it, a day shift.

The day is quiet and goes by fast. You haven’t been hurt, so this is one of the best days you’ve had in the past month and you’re in a very good mood, so good, in fact that when A. Hotchner, whose first name you still don’t know, starts his weeknight ritual of keeping you awake with his revolving door of women, you’re only a little annoyed. 

Then, at ten, right when you are about to go to bed, your phone rings with a work emergency. The girl he has over next door is screaming so hard that your colleague on the other side of the line asks if you’re okay, and then, embarrassingly, if you are safe and you have to explain that yes, you’re fine. You just live in a cheap apartment where the walls are made of cardboard, which sends you back into a near homicidal rage. You agree to come in, but only for a couple of hours, until the nurse that was supposed to come in can be located. Once you get there, a couple of hours turns into eight, and by the time you’re out you have an hour before your shift starts. You have to go home to feed your cat but petty as you are, and wanting to make someone pay, you buy a cup of cheap mcdonalds coffee and stick a post-it to it, depositing it at your neighbours door.

Vinnie, your cat, is happy to see you. Or as happy as a cat can be, meaning that he follows you around but acts offended whenever you try to pet him. Eventually, you abandon the search for affection and drop some kibble into his bowl before promptly leaving again. The cup is still on his doormat, so you turn the cup so the message (“She was faking it”) will immediately be visible when he opens the door and knock loudly. You disappear down the stairs before he can catch you, trying to psych yourself up for what you feel will be yet another shitty shift. 

By the time you come home again, the cup is gone, and a new one awaits on your doormat. A message is written on the cardboard band around it but you don’t read it until you’re inside. You open the door to Vinnie, your only friend by now, meowing at you like he’s asking where you’ve been.

“To work,” you reply, “Someone needs to pay for the rent. And the high end kitty kibble you demand, you freeloader.”

He meows at you again. It’s short and deep, and makes him sound like a 1940s mafia man, which is why you’ve called him Vinnie and why he gets dressed in a little suit and tie with a fake cigar for every Halloween since the day you adopted him. Or he adopted you, because you were only at the shelter to accompany your sister, and Vinnie, the spry young kitten, climbed your leg like a tree and took shelter in your coat refusing to be removed. He screamed so loud and for so long that his vocal cords were damaged. 

You think it’s sweet that he wanted to be taken home so badly, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s not regretting it now. Your apartment is shit, you get paid peanuts and you’re barely ever home. Maybe he’s lonely. Adopting another cat isn’t really viable, because you can’t afford the vet bills, or the insurance. Maybe getting A. Hotchner’s (okay, you really need to ask his name) kid to come by isn’t such a bad idea.

Speaking of, you remember your coffee. It’s from the nice place again and you savour it, not willing to stop for a second to read the message, so you twist the band off and read it like that. 

“You’re just jealous.” 

You smirk. As much as he annoys you, you’re happy he’s humouring you. And the fact that he keeps getting you good coffee when you got him a terrible mcdonald’s one isn’t entirely lost on you. Either he’s got money to spare -- he probably hasn’t. He lives in the same, shitty apartment building you do -- or he wants you to have the good coffee. 

You need to study, and try to push the thoughts of A (seriously, you need to ask. There aren’t that many possibilities… Alexander? Anthony? Andrew? Adrian? Aaron? Austin? Adam? You’re not sure, but the rest of the names google suggested when you typed in ‘boy names starting in A’ seems too modern. He really doesn’t look like an Ace… Or does he? No, definitely not. With his brown eyes, black hair and handsome face, he looks more like an Andrew or an Alexander. Andrew Hotchner sounds good too…) out of your mind, but it fails spectacularly. 

That little voice in your head, the one you don’t want to listen to because it likes to remind you of attractive boys and of the fact that you could be married by now, pipes up and reminds you that in your search for the correct A name, you described him as handsome. It also tells you that you’ve been staring at the cardboard band for nearly an hour now, with your search engine open to a tab on graphology -- and you learn that he’s a relatively calm but anchored person with good perception and memory skills (medium pressure on the pen), but also a fast and energetic writer, who is usually assertive and confident (right slant), and is overall a fairly extroverted and outgoing person (large size of the handwriting), who, at the time of writing the message anyway, is in a happy or pleasant mood (upwards tilt) -- you’re also unable to take in anything that’s written in your syllabus because you’re too busy pushing the voice down in your head to a place where you can’t hear it, all the while the rational part of the brain is telling you that maybe it has a point, you do have a crush.

You’ve met him twice, and considered strangling him both times. Is it sad to have a crush?

You don’t hear him come home that night and you sleep like a brick. Then, it’s the same for the night after that, and the night after that. You’re starting to worry, so like any normal person who’s trying to distract herself from a crush, you request an extra shift. It’s not pleasant but it works, and when you come home, A’s shower is going and you feel suspiciously relieved.

You don’t retaliate with the coffee, not wanting to stoke the fires of your crush but he doesn’t let them die. You nearly knock the coffee over as you step out to go to work. 

“Still alive?” the message says (the tilt is down now, which means he’s sad and you wish you’d never even learnt about graphology) and your heart soars. Before you take a sip, you notice something else in smaller print, “Usual place is closed, new place didn’t have caramel. You’re a girl under the age of thirty, I assumed you’d like pumpkin spice lattes.” 

The audacity of this man. You stand in front of your door in shock for a second and a half longer than Vinnie is willing to put up with so he kicks the door closed, kool-aid man style and brings you back to the real world. There’s nothing truly offensive about the message, you’re just annoyed with him as a base emotion and even more so because he’s 100% correct, you love pumpkin spice lattes. They’re actually your favourite and the only reason you don’t have them as often as caramel lattes is because coffee shops are always out. 

You stop by starbucks on your way home to get A the best coffee you can afford, and write him another post-it, “Missed my performance ratings?” you write and in small print, “The cat is called Vinnie, your kid can come by on Saturday. Also What’s your name?”

You drop it off that evening and wait for him to come home. He doesn’t. You sit on your sofa until past midnight, watching tv. They’ve interrupted the broadcast of the game show you were watching to air a press conference, headed by an FBI agent. She’s good, clear, concise and she stresses the importance of staying safe, especially for hospital personnel. If any of them experiences an attack from one of their patients, they need to report it at the number flashing on the screen. 

The group chat you set up with a few of your colleagues is going nuts, crying from laughter emojis are being sent by the dozen and you have to admit it’s amusing. They’re all counting down the injuries they’ve had on the job in the past month, and you have plenty to add. Someone offers to compile them a spreadsheet. 

You fall asleep on the sofa and wake up sore in the morning. He’s still not back by then.

----

“I assume you saw the broadcast?” another nurse asks as you sit down to have your lunch. You nod at her, “Do they think we meander through fields of roses or something?”

“I don’t think it’s a well known part of the job,” you reply between mouthfuls of instant noodles, “People think it’s easy to be a nurse, that doctors do the brunt of the work.”

“I beg to differ,” she says, unpacking her own lunchbox and diving into a muffin like a starved man on a buffet, “I had to stop Dr. Atkinson --”

“Girls, we have a code violet in the ER, all hands on deck,” Dave, the only male nurse you know by name, tells you when he pops his head through the door. 

You groan. Code violet means someone is fighting back, which likely means you’ll be sore in the morning. You’ve been attacked before, and it’s never been that bad, but when you get there, you see why the other nurses are having problems. 

It’s a young man, probably about your age with a backpack and an absolutely deranged look on his face. A bunch of staff are already littering the floor when you get there. He’s throwing punches and anything he can get his hands on at anyone who moves. Dave gets a stack of magazines in the eye and your colleague with the muffin gets slapped across the face so hard that she looks dazed for a moment. You’re the unlucky one though, because the man takes off his backpack and swings it at your head, you collide with it and it feels a little like someone’s thrown you at a wall. 

You collapse and lose consciousness almost immediately. When you come to, with Dave calling your name and holding an ice pack to your head, things have gone quiet again. The fighter has been carted off by police, and the only people left on the scenes are the patients you need to care for and half a dozen FBI agents wearing kevlar, supervising the situation. 

Dave helps you up to a nearby chair, where he instructs you to keep your head between your knees while he goes looking for a bucket. You look green, he says, and yeah, you feel it too. It feels like your entire brain’s been rearranged or scrambled in the worst way possible. Seconds later, someone silently takes the seat next to you and bumps your elbow.

“Apparently coffees aren’t good for concussions,” the person says, you look up, recognising the voice as soon as it leaves A. Hotchner’s mouth. He hands you the cup of tepid water and you take a sip, taking in his appearance. He’s wearing kevlar too, and underneath that a magically uncreased shirt, tie and slacks. All that paired with his gorgeous face, and you’re sure you’re never going to get rid of that crush. 

One of his kevlar wearing friends comes to fetch him.  A stands up, shooting you a wink and a grin as he leaves. Out of habit, you look at the cup for his handwriting. 

“Apparently, it’s not good to be alone when you have a concussion… Dinner at mine?” 

[blackjackkent]

For the lyric prompt, how about something from the Love section? Either "No, it’s not like any other love/This one is different because it’s us" or "If they dare touch a hair on your head/I’ll fight to the last breath" for either Hector/Karlach or (if you feel like indulging me with an old favorite... 😉) Aria/Morgana.

I will do both, because you are super cool. <3 Aria/Morgana drabble will be in another post later on. :)

"No, it’s not like any other love… This one is different because it’s us…"

------

“Tell me about the Outer City,” Hector says one night, idly brushing his fingers through Karlach’s hair.

She stirs drowsily; she’d been slowly falling asleep to the beat of his heart, her head resting on his bare chest. “Hm?”

“About growing up there.” He smiles slightly. “I know nothing about the city. But when you talk about your time there, you sound happy.”

“Oh.” She shifts so that she can twist her body in a slow, lazy stretch, like a cat preparing itself for a nap in the sun. “I was, yeah. Most of the time, at least.” She grins. “Guess nowhere’s perfect though.” She settles back against him, this time with her chin resting on her hands so she can look up at his face. “I was just a kid, y’know. Young and dumb.”

He chuckles. “I suspect my ‘young and dumb’ years did not quite look like yours.”

“Probably.” She purses out her lips thoughtfully. “I liked the people. There were always so many people around, all going in different directions, living different lives. Different things to see every day, different stories to hear.”

He considers this, compares it to the calm, orderly life and familiar faces of the monastery where he grew up. “It sounds rather overwhelming,” he says with a soft laugh.

She shrugs. “Eh. You get used to it. And, well… all of us were a bit in the shit, you know? Outer City isn’t posh. Everything’s kinda dirty, or stinks, or falls over if you look at it too hard. But all those people around - you feel like you’re not in it alone, y’know?” Her smile fades a little and she hunches up her shoulders to snuggle her body down against him. “Hated that about Avernus. You’d think even a devil army might have a little camaraderie, but all those fuckers just hated each other. Couldn’t wait to stab each other in the back. We had some of those in the city, too, of course, but it was everybody in Avernus.”

He draws his fingertips slowly across her shoulders, along her neck, up her cheek and the side of her jaw. It’s been months now, but touching her still feels like a gift after all the time spent longing for it. “I can understand that,” he says with a slight nod. “Not feeling like you’re alone, I mean. Like our little group here - it’s helped, knowing we were all facing this together.”

She grins, rolling her head to follow the movement of his hand. “Yeah. You get it.”

“What did you do for fun?” he prompts. He is enjoying just listening to her talk, the rolling lilt of her voice with the memories of happier times.

“Used to hang around the pubs a lot. Elfsong, Mermaid,” she says, her expression going more distant as she thinks back. “Down to the harbor to watch the ships, when I was real young. A few times we snuck in to watch plays at the Oasis. Never had the money for a ticket but we could get in the stage door; one of my friends knew one of the stagehands and he’d get us up to a balcony no one was using.” She smiles nostalgically. “Never seen anything like that anywhere else - all color and light and music.”

She shifts a little to rub at her jaw with a pensive expression. “Let’s see. Lots of festivals in the Outer City. Market days. Always plenty of work to do for an extra bit of coin.” She grins crookedly and pokes at his chest. “And this, of course.”

“This?” He blinks.

“Sex,” she says, and laughs, seeing him blush. “You know, that thing we’ve been doing?”

“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Kept you busy, hm?”

“I told you - hadn’t really figured out anything more than that before I got shipped off to the Hells.” She huffs out a breath heavily and rests her chin back on his chest, stretching her arms out until her hands find his and hold onto them. “But there were plenty of takers for what I had on offer.”

He isn’t jealous, not really - she had never met him, never even heard of him, at the time; why would he be jealous? - but he is curious. “People you wished were more?” he asks.

She doesn’t say anything for a little while, thinking. “Maybe,” she finally says doubtfully. “None of us really thought about it, I guess. We liked it simple. Well, I did, anyway. I liked feeling good - still do. And didn't really see the point in getting tangled up more than that. If I’d stuck around longer… I don’t know. Maybe.”

She hesitates, then digs her elbows into the ground on either side of him to pull herself up his body and press her lips against his firmly. “I didn’t know what I was missing, though, that’s for sure,” she murmurs. 

“Mm?” He smiles playfully into the kiss. “And what were you missing?”

She mock-slaps his jaw with her fingertips and laughs. “Fishing for compliments again?” Another kiss, slower this time. “I don’t know how to put it into words, really,” she goes on after a little while. “This, you… it’s not like anything before. It’s about us, y’know? Not just our bodies, not just a quick roll, but us. I get to know you, all of you, and you know me. I never had that before.” She rests her head against his shoulder, her lips brushing his neck. “Not saying what I had back in the city was bad, but… makes it so much better.”

He nods. “I have nothing to compare it to,” he says quietly. “In a way I wish I did, so I could know too, that this is nothing like anything else. But I believe it.” A pause. “I love you. I’m glad you weren’t alone back then. But I’m glad you found me, in the end.”

She looks up to meet his eyes, cups her palm against his cheek. “Me too, Soldier.”