#hoping to stick with this design for a lot longer

[wereh0gz]

Actually haven't vibed with a fursona quite as much as with my most recent design like I'm kinda obsessed

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[leoxxii]

so i have come to the conclusion that cheaping out on the ktape was a mistake and i am absolutely not going to be able to even slightly mimic a flat chest w this :( the tape isnt wide enough or sticky enough to stay in place :((

[eydilily]

I absolutely love your art and how detailed it is! If you don't mind me asking, how do you draw/break down faces? Your style is like exactly what I'm hoping to get close to when I draw them

OKAY so huge disclaimer. im self taught and i dont know what im doing most of the time! frankly i have a long way to go with shape language and character design so i will always suggest people to go to actual professionals and masters LMAO.

i am NOT qualified whatsoever, but, i tried to breakdown my thought process in how i currently draw things!!! for my mcyt designs, obviously i take huge inspirations from the actual ccs.

tango has similar hairlines and beard patterns to cc!tango. joel's hairstyle is very much inspired from his younger hairstyles, and pearl has a similarly long oval headshape from cc!pearl.

all of which are completely personal preference. some people take shape inspiration from personalities, voices, or whatever prophetic visions they have in their heads!

this would be the case for my cleo and etho designs. Cleo to me has a sharper voice & personality so i tried to incorporate that into what id think their face would be! etho is kind of . wet cat, but his voice for some reason gives me... round?? shapes?? so he has floppy hair and rounder eyes and ears in my design.

(another disclaimer: looks does not equate to personality, but like. its a lil easier 2 draw. and theyre shorthands and associations)

^ cleo has a higher eyebrow arch, sharp inner eye corner. etho has ears that stick out, uneven haircut, and his roots are darker :D

so its basically 2 big steps! Picking the face shape and then picking out details that would be unique to that character. to make characters different, i try to always pick something different between each person. so more contrast!!!

pearl and gem are easy since theyre opposites visually -- oval vs square, sharp vs round. for skizz and tango, i draw their eyes very similarly. but i decided my skizz would have a longer face and rounder cheeks, whereas tango has a bushier mustache and flatter face.

i am personally very fond of super stylized artstyles,,, i think cartoony / stylized artstyles take a lot of skill and a lot of character design thought into creating unique silhouettes that are still very recognizable! (for instance, huge fan of @/wasyago and @/alienssstufff)

unfortunately my artstyle isnt geared towards that lol, and alot of my face shapes tend to be very similar. so instead, i try to change up eye shapes (very common method of separating characters) and hairstyles! i have a long long way to go and i have a lot of bad habits lol but i hope this shows a little bit on how each of my characters are detailed differently.

[manicpixiefelix]

all this, and love too (will ruin us)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: The night of Oliver's party and both yours and Felix's moods are ruined upon finding out Oliver had been lying to you both for your entire friendship. While sticking with Felix all night to make sure he doesn't maim Oliver, Felix realises he doesn't like sharing you anymore. You're more than okay with this, but Oliver doesn't seem to be okay with sharing Felix, even if he has no say anymore. Canon tries to happen, but you get there first, so you kill the problem at it's source.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: MAZE SCENE; death, murder, violence, nongraphic smut, dominant felix, bathroom blowjob, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader being incredibly manipulative back at him, heavy drinking and drug use, You VIOLENTLY Murder Oliver Quick In The Maze.

A/N: 6074 words. oh god these oneshots are only getting longer and longer. whoops. but also PLEASE heed the warnings. this is the Reader Kills Oliver oneshot (first of two) that i was talking about. not sure how i feel about it. its very unedited.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

On the drive back from his parents' house, Oliver sits in the back. Like a scolded child he keeps his gaze low and voice even lower. None of you speak the entire drive back; you try and focus on the wind in your hair and the hum of the car and not how your stomach is turning. In your mind you see the connections as they light up, small things you'd missed, things that are starting to make a lot more sense.

You wonder what other lies you could have gotten ahead of if Oliver hadn't been so nervous about you going through his file at Oxford.

Every single thing about him was designed specifically to be appealing, to you, of course, but more importantly to Felix. It was meant to be you who knew it all, could see the full board and all the pieces the people around you moved; it was meant to be you who could plan well enough and see far enough out to keep Felix out of situations exactly like this.

Felix is curt and swift the moment he's out of the car, trying to escape Oliver who rushes after him, his desperation echoing through the halls. You're several steps behind Oliver, silent, watching the exchange, watching Oliver cling to an ever-dwindling hope for even friendship, as Felix calls out the weirdness of his ongoing lies, tearing that hope asunder.

"I just wanted to be your friend," is all Oliver can say when pressed about his lies. It's genuine, it breaks your heart, but it doesn't make it better. For a moment, you see conflict as it flashes across Felix's face, but he clearly can't do this right now, needing at least the night, but promising not to tell his family.

As you go to leave, go to follow him, Oliver catches your sleeve, holds it too tight for just a moment -

"I thought you knew," his voice wobbles, but there's something like alarm bells in the back of your mind. Everything about Oliver is purposeful, even now. But you know him, you know how he likes to play.

"No you didn't," you look at his fingers still coiled in your sweater, watch him drop them, "you knew I trusted you." You wouldn't let him shift this blame; the faint dismay you can see in his eyes behind the hurt gives him away. He knew Felix had more emotions than sense, but somewhere along the way he seemed to have forgotten that you were so much more than another adoring fan in Felix's shadow.

"'m sorry," stumbles from his mouth almost like a reaction to the look in your eyes, "for hurting Felix with all this, I- I never wanted that," he shakes his head, dropping his gaze, "or hurt you," tacked on as an afterthought. Both of you know where he was placing the importance of that apology. Everything Oliver Quick does is with purpose.

"I know you are, Oliver," you tell him, standing tall and unflinching as you left him alone.

"If you leave my side tonight I'm going to maim him," is how Felix greets you when you enter your room. Sitting on his bed, you see a little, ornate box open in front of him, and you recognise it as one of the few stashes he had around the estate for desperate times. This one, if you recall correctly, was shoved well beneath Henry the Eighth's bed, and had a decent amount of coke that you'd left here after last Christmas.

"Can't fucking believe- I can't fucking believe him!" He rants, cutting up lines of coke on the little hand mirror Venetia had donated to this particular stash box. Mind working a million miles a minute, you're quiet, letting him rant. Running on autopilot, you begin to strip down to your underwear, pulling out your costume for the night, frowning at it in the afternoon light.

"How complicated is your costume?" Felix asks, finally looking up, gazing over at you and the sheer, shimmering thing in your hands. Without a word, but with a vague shrug, you turn it to him.

The base was like something you'd see at a rave, little more than green underwear, with straps, and beading, and jewels, and loops of green and purple pearls by your hips that would bounce while you walked. The overcoat, though it was far to generous to call it that, was pure gossamer, sheer and green, with hand-stitched silk leaves making up the hem that fell perfectly to your ankles, and intricate, hand embroidery of vines that extended across both shoulders, and both arms, ending with little, purple flowers embroidered by your wrists.

There's large, brown boots with a bit of a hell and some large buckles, and a belt that's half a skirt that hit just below your knee to give you some coverage, at least on your left, sewn to look like it was covered in leaves. Plus a leather thigh harness and flask that Farleigh had gotten you made for your last birthday.

Leaning back, Felix reaches out to feel the gossamer between his fingers, frowning for a beat.

"Don't be precious about it."

For a moment, you frown in confusion. Despite your entire outfit being exquisitely and perfectly tailored, you knew you could afford to not be precious about pretty much anything, even this. But that's never been an outright request he's made.

"I'm not?"

Quiet follows, the soft rustle of your garments as you begin to get dressed, and Felix quickly snorting a line of coke.

"I'm going to lose my fucking mind tonight," he mumbles. Even though you're half dressed, you still lean over his shoulder automatically as he lifts the mirror and the rolled bill up to you like an offering, holding the mirror steady for you.

"I need a drink," you groaned, to which Felix immediately agreed.

"God, why don't we stash anything in here?" He lamented, laying back and watching you head to the door once more while you're trying to do up your belt to hold up your partial leaf skirt, still without your overcoat.

"Because that's tacky and we're not alcoholics." Even with your explanation, Felix pouted. Still, it's a quick trip to the Blue Room and the bottle of rum you're glad Venetia hadn't found in the broken piano.

The night gets blurrier, gets better, with half a bottle of liquor in your veins before the sun even sets. As you're making yourself dreamy and ethereal with glitter and gems and makeup in the mirror, Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, pouting again. The drinks and drugs are already hitting you both and you can hear the revelry beginning outside.

"It's not going to last," he says pointedly, and you're confused until you see him trying to poke at the iridescent eyeliner that wasn't quite dry. Rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away. So he makes his point again, adding, "I'm going to get glitter all over me."

You smirked at him in the mirror, tipping your head against his.

"Don't be precious about it."

A spirit amongst the fairies, you greet your college friends with open arms and boundless enthusiasm, always keeping Felix close at hand. He was more subdued than you, more subdued than many of your friends were used to. Whenever you looked at him, it seemed like his gaze was searching, his expression drawn unless someone had caught his attention, and he wore a smile that seemed to convince them.

"Need a drink," his hand around your wrist and no time to protest, Felix dictated your night and it's pace. Frustration and apprehension keep him tense, even as he tries to loosen up; you feel every time that tension spikes, even if you don't know it's cause. His nails dig into you, wherever he's holding you, shoulder, thigh, arm -

In the bathroom, doing lines with India and some guys who claim to be friends of friends of the Cattons, you're leaning against the sink until you Felix nudge your knee with his own. Looking to the door, you see Oliver in white, taking up it's space. Felix only has to gently tap your thigh for you to shift, sitting in his lap.

"You can't ignore me forever," Oliver tells him, watching you both, watching the way Felix wraps an arm around your middle to hold you close and secure on him.

"I can try," Felix practically sings, his nails sinking into your stomach. With his free hand, he offers you his cigarette, raising it to your lips. You drop your gaze as you inhale, trying to only focus on keeping Felix secure in this moment.

"Felix we need to talk," Oliver insists, "Felix, come on man -"

"Look, man, I tried to be nice -" Felix started, and though you tried to gently warn him, pressing against him with Fi on your lips like you hope he won't say something he'll regret, he just holds you tighter and continues on, "but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

India half snorts with laughter in the middle of a line of coke, the others all judging Oliver the longer he lingers in the doorway, but Felix drops his gaze. His lips are on your shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

One of guys whose names you don't know asks who Oliver even was, but Felix can't answer; tension again, maybe anxiety or frustration, but his mouth moves from the gossamer and embroidery on your shoulder to your bare skin above the neckline, where your collar meets your throat. His teeth sting. His nails still sting. He swears under his breath before he lets go.

"Sorry," he mumbles finally, sighing and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You tell him it's okay, voice fond, but when you lean over to do another line of coke, you meet India's reproachful gaze. It takes you a long few seconds to connect the dots, to realise what was going on in her head. You're so fucking over everything tonight.

"You know Farleigh was lying to you about us, right?" You say casually, taking your line and sitting back up. Her eyebrows rise in surprise, "I know you think we're all gross and cousin-incest-y -" you hear Felix's faint laughter behind you, and feel him nudge you with his thigh, silently asking you to get up. Both of you do, and Felix manages his first proper smile of the night, even if it is smug.

"But we're not related," he tells her, "thank fucking god," and smacks your ass as the two of you exit, as if to just prove a point.

You're on your knees in a different bathroom when you hear everyone else start to sing happy birthday, but Felix's voice is a low growl of don't you dare stop, and his hands in your hair. Nothing else matters to you in this state of mind, blurry, pliant, desperate to follow his every command. It's as if you've forgotten what exists outside of Felix's hands on you.

The night becomes lights that are too bright, and music too loud, and laughter and glitter and the warmth of the people dancing around you. After a few hours you feel yourself starting to come down from your high, starting to come back to yourself, still on the dance floor. Venetia's dancing with a blonde boy, looking so pretty, like she's having a genuinely fun night, but when you point it out, Felix takes your hand.

"Don't look at Ven," there's that hunger in his eyes, that firm tone he'd been using all night, "don't touch Ven, don't -" he cuts himself off, wets his lips. Looking around for a moment, he spots something in the crowd that makes him scowl. Just a moment, as you follow his gaze, you see Oliver. The moment your eyes lock with his, however, Felix has his lips on your jaw.

"Fucking mine."

There's half a second where you and Oliver are still locked in this moment, you watch the way his expression starts to shift, jaw tensing, something like anger flickering in his eyes. But you can't bring yourself to give a shit about Oliver as Felix has his arms around you, kissing down your throat with a feverish, almost lewd intensity in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Prove it," and you let him drag you from the house, heading towards the place that had always felt a little special for you both, almost a little magical.

"I'm being selfish," Felix announced as you finally hit the tree line just before the maze, "I don't fucking care anymore, I'm being selfish, about you -!" He turns to look at you, only to see you gazing up at him with starry-eyes, hanging on his every word. He breaks into a sheepish grin momentarily, shaking his head as his voice drops for a moment, "oh, you're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

"I want you so bad right now it's actually embarrassing," you agreed with a wide grin, unable to contain your laughter, despite how genuine the feeling was.

"I'm being selfish," he said once more, muttering it this time, though as you entered the maze and the moonlight peaked down upon you, you could see the blush still upon his cheeks, "I don't want anyone else to fucking touch you again, you hear me?" This time, when he looks at you, he thinks he can see hearts in your eyes; your overwhelming love and acceptance, even for this -especially for this- is making it very hard to keep the stern act up, except -

"Anything you say," you tell him, breathless as you approach the centre of the maze, voice edging on desperate, "anything at all." And you see it hits him just where it had needed to, to hear you wanting and wanton and offering yourself to him -

The gossamer overcoat is ruined, scratched all up the back where you're pinned against the statue, half sitting on the base with your legs around Felix's, your fancy green undergarments around one ankle. His nails scratch down the bare skin of your back, fucking into you with furious intent to match.

"You've always been mine," he groans into your ear.

"Felix -" you whimpered. Immediately he was grinning, lips inches from yours, gazing at you through his lashes.

"How's that proving anything?" He teases, low and knowing, and as his hips snap up to meet yours, you take the hint, his name getting louder and louder on your lips as you almost chant it, till his hand is between you both, helping get you off, and you're close and all but screaming his name and -

"Felix." Not from you. Oliver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Felix immediately looks murderous, and not in a fun, sexy way. Oliver's demanding to talk to him while you struggle to pull your underwear back on.

"Could hear you out there," Oliver mumbles, half stumbling over his words, unable to look at you, focused on the dirt by your feet instead.

"Kind of the point, Ollie," you snapped, frustrated and now unsatisfied, but dressed once more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver?" Felix demanded. Oliver advances on him, presses into his space with desperate eyes and a bottle clutched to his chest. He doesn't look at you, he can't fucking look at you, you don't matter. It's Felix and his emotions who lead every situation the two of you share; it's Felix he has to win back over.

But he should have expected you not to leave, should have expected that when Felix pushed him away, shouted for him to get the fuck away, that you would try and step in.

"He's already got you on a leash, can I just have this one fucking moment?!" He snaps at you; he doesn't hit you but you recoil like he has, and Felix's gaze grows cold. Oliver seems to sense this before he even turns back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just- they already have everything -"

"Back off." Felix warns sharply, but Oliver can't help himself, won't listen.

"I just gave you what you wanted!" Oliver throws himself at Felix, pins him to the statue, their bodies flush and Oliver rambling, "like everyone else does! Everyone puts on a show for Felix..." his voice drops, childish and weak and wanting, and you watch him press himself closer as he turns gentle, "so I'm... I'm sorry if my performance wasn't good enough..."

"I think..." some part of it was working on Felix, his voice soft and placating, "I think you need to see somebody," or maybe he knows by now exactly how Oliver wants him to act; his eyes never leave Oliver's face, even when he doesn't let him go, "you need help okay, seriously -"

"No, no, I don't," Oliver's voice is rising again, "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you," a tremble in his voice, sounding so raw, so needy, "you're the only friend I ever had, Felix." The manipulation is so blatant it almost hurts; you don't matter to him in this moment, all that matters is saying exactly whatever Felix needs to believe.

"I mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you?" That hope, that dangerous, heartbreaking note of hope that's going to make your skin crawl. But you're not leaving without Felix, and he's not leaving this moment it seemed, "I'm still the same person, yeah? I'm still the same person," he insisted.

A long few moments pass, Felix's gaze searching Oliver's face for something beyond you. But then, finally, his gaze slips to you. All you can do is shake your head.

"Don't-" Oliver murmurs faintly, tipping his head to try and block you from Felix's line of sight, but Felix turns his attention back, expression helpless.

"I don't know what you are," he breathes, "but I do know you; you make my fucking blood run cold."

The fight drains out of Oliver, as does every last drop of hope. He lets Felix push his hands away, makes himself give Felix space to breathe. After a beat, he looks back at you, unsteady on his feet, pain in his eyes, but then he lurches, quickly shoves his half-finished bottle into Felix's hands, and rushes away to be sick.

Oliver is doubled over, retching, when you get to Felix. Before he can raise Oliver's bottle to his lips, you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap him up in a hug. He's trembling, but you feel the bottle against your back. Felix tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tears unspilled, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Better?" You ask forlornly once Ollie had gone quiet.

"Fuck off," he spits, finally coming back around. You watch him over Felix's shoulder, and the glare he levels at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand is almost surprising. Still, you try and show the same compassion you knew Felix would in this moment.

"Wash the taste out of your mouth," you try and tell Ollie gently, moving carefully out of Felix's arms, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle he'd brought with him, "I think you should go to bed after." Oliver doesn't even reach for the bottle, but he does stop, looking between it, and then between you and Felix.

"Please," Felix sighs, head bent and bottle clasped tightly in his hand, "I need this."

"We can get another," you tell him quietly, calmly. Felix's gaze flicks to yours, imploring for just a moment, but dropping again when you don't relent. Felix sighs, once more, but finally relents, handing you over the bottle. Which Oliver has kept his focus on, brow now furrowing.

"I gave you everything else of mine, my drink's not even good enough for you anymore, like the rest of me?" He sneers, reaching unsteadily for the bottle in your hands, though his eyes and their focus betray him. Something lights up in the back of your mind, like one of those memories that made far more sense once Oliver's lie had been revealed. Alarm bells once again.

Felix stumbles to a halt -

"Fucking fine -" but as he tries to reach for the bottle again you step out of his range, beginning to see red as you got closer to Oliver, prickling with suspicion, "what is your problem, Y/N," Felix sounds so fucking tired, but all you can see is the deer of a boy before you growing wide eyed as he looks into yours.

"It's Oliver's," trying with all your might to not jump to conclusions, you hold the bottle out, desperately hoping that you'd connected the wrong dots, that Oliver was just drunk and as helpless as he appeared, that he couldn't be this malicious or vindictive-

"You want me to be sick again?" He tries to stand up to you, bottle pressed to his chest and refusing to step back even as you continue to crowd his space, "fuck off." He's seeming more sober, more alert, more with himself with each minute that passes. The distant noise of the party rings in your ears and all you can think about is the cold bottle between you and how Felix had almost -

"Leave him alone," Felix called out, footsteps in the grass sounding as though he was making his way back to the maze, "he's not worth it."

"He's pathetic," you spit, nose to nose with Oliver now, face heating up as hot, angry tears begin to close your vision. Still, you can see in Oliver's eyes that he's finding fewer and fewer ways to escape the situation.

"I don't care what either of youse think of me anymore," Oliver's lip curls as it quivers, trying to play distraught and callous all at once, "go fuck each other to feel like you're not just a fucking waste of space, vapid cunts -" he can see he's touched a nerve by the way your expression lights up with malevolent fury.

"Fi," there's a shake in your voice that you can't even fight, "please leave."

"Can you please come with me," Felix sounds like he's on the verge of tears, and when you turn, he's reaching for you, his hand shaking, "please can we go?" He begs.

An angel. Your best friend. Your everything. Your Felix.

Seeing him like this, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oliver's greed and jealousy would rather see Felix hurt than not in love with him, you couldn't let him get away with it. Finally you start to cry, even if you hadn't meant to, and the sight of it has Felix begging for you to leave with him. Oliver starts pushing, demanding that you both fuck off.

"Give me a minute, My Felix," you tell him, trying to smile, trying to reassure him, "I'll catch up."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I don't want you to see this," you turn back to Oliver with newfound resolution. He's stepped back, leaning himself against the statue, doubled over, head in his hands.

"See what?" Felix asks dubiously, and Oliver looks up, sees the way you're approaching him, and scrambles to straighten his posture.

"Ollie's going to have a little drink," you offer him the bottle again.

"Tryna make me sick again?" He snarls.

"Then use it to wash your mouth out, then swallow," you order coldly, "and repeat until the bottle's empty."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's just as perfectly fine as when you handed it to Felix," you hissed, voice low enough that Felix himself couldn't properly hear. Oliver narrowed his eyes, matching your tone.

"If I don't?"

"What I will do to you, Oliver Quick, will be much worse than whatever you've put in that bottle, so you'll drink it all up," you leaned in, whispering close and menacing, "and if you do throw it up, I will have you on your belly, like the worm you are, sucking your own sick off of the fucking ground."

"What the fuck is going on?" Felix demanded, and you turned, taking a deep breath and hopefully giving a much more convincing, determined smile.

"He made you cry."

Felix's expression immediately changed. All soft and fragile but understanding, he just asks that you don't be long. You promise not to be. Both you and Oliver watching him go.

Once in the clear, you turn back to your captive audience, keeping your voice low.

"I'm not going to make you drink it," you admit, and though Oliver's confused and on edge, he seems to relax, just a little.

"The fuck do you want from me then?"

"I just need to hear you say it," you step back from him, give him space, even step around to place the bottle at the foot of the statue and lean your forehead against the cool stone.

"Say what -?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ollie," you groaned, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes, "you think I could hurt you? I ruin lives behind the scenes, I couldn't -" you flail your hands awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, turning to him properly once more. It appears to work, however, as Oliver is now only regarding you warily, instead of seeming actively cautious. "I was... hurt," you admitted, "I know why you said it, but I was hurt to hear you say Felix was your only friend."

"That's not -" he tried, defences lowering further as he attempted to defend himself.

"No, I get it; I've done terrible things because I love Fi, I couldn't imagine," you cast a pitying, apologetic look to Oliver, "him not loving me back."

And it works. He cracks, little by little. The tears begin to form, the lip starts to tremble.

"It's not fucking fair," it already sounds like there's a lump in his throat, "why do you deserve his love?" He scowls, "why can't I? I can be like you, I can be good -" he babbles, sniffling harshly amongst his defiantly sharp tone, "I know I could be," you gently wrap an arm around him and he fists a hand to tightly in your overcoat that it tears, "I was everything he wanted me to be -"

"I know, Ollie, I know," you carefully remove his antlers, holding them in one hand as you coax him in close, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"I wanted him to love me, I wanted- I never wanted him hurt, but wanted him dead so it wasn't my fault if he didn't love me; he couldn't love anyone -" he breaks down into furious tears, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate you, I hate that he loves you without you even trying -" there's no apology in his distress, even as he lets you hold him close, and you, for a few more moments, whisper reassuring nonsense. "I never wanted to hurt him," he mumbled softly, "but I wanted to kill him. I could never hurt him," there's anger and guilt in his eyes as he looks up at you, tear soaked and helpless, "but I wanted to hurt you." What you give him in return is pity, is sweetness and apology, but your blood is burning through your veins.

"You would have regretted it."

"I know..."

"Are you lying?"

"I think I am."

You have what you need, the confession, the intention; validation for your motivation. Hook, line and sinker.

"Hey, Ollie, Ollie, darling look at me, I know, okay, I know-" you try, taking his face in your free hand.

"No you fucking don't!" Oliver insists, but you keep insisting, "don't fucking take that tone, I just told you I was trying to kill Felix to hurt you -!" He thrashes, but your gentleness is unrelenting in this moment. You will give Oliver Quick what he deserves.

"Ollie, look at me, okay? Look me in the eyes, please -" you begged, and finally he did, despair and anger all there amongst the tears, "keep looking me in the eyes," you tell him gently, and firmly, and he does, too curious for his own good and wanting to see where this was going -

"Everything," you give him the faintest, reassuring smile, one hand on his face, shaking, messily wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he keeps your gaze, "is going to be -"

- and you ram one of his antlers into his soft, exposed belly with all your strength. Surprise and pain hit him all at once and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to get your hands off of the headpiece. But he's winded, and suddenly in overwhelming pain.

"- fine," you breathe out, shaking with adrenaline. You have him pinned against the statue, just like he'd had Felix only minutes ago.

"Eyes, Oliver," you ordered coldly, while making sure to keep smiling, even as fresh traitorous tears were gathering and already spilling down your cheeks. Hand in his hair coming to grip him tightly, keeping his gaze level with yours, "what did I say? I want you to look me in the eyes -" and you rip the antlers out before plunging them back into his gut. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl involuntarily, Oliver splutters and fights and squirms but everything is becoming slippery, and warm, and slick with his blood. The antlers, your hands, and his; hard to get a grip like the firm one you had on your weapon of choice.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-" he chokes out helplessly, bloody hands moving up, trying to grip your arms, your shoulders, your face, "how -fuck- why -?"

"Whatever you had in that bottle is too good for you; you tried to kill Felix, you said so yourself."

As his strength begins to fail, the way he holds your face turns tender, almost gentle, before his hands fall back to rest on yours, both gripping the bloody antler. Oliver's weight rests on the statue, watching you with despair and helpless, pained moans. Cheeks wet with tears, you can't even fathom how you're doing this, or who you will be once it's done.

"You are not the minotaur of this maze," you grit your teeth, leaning your weight on the headdress, driving it into his guts until the bloody antler snapped clean off of the headdress, you still can't bring yourself to stop. It doesn't feel like enough. He tried to kill Felix. So you took the other antler in hand, unable to stop yourself, shaking with rage and tears, "you are the dear in my fucking headlights; you tried to hurt Felix, you tried to kill Felix! You are nothing, nothing, nothing," you punctuate each nothing with another bloody, unnecessary jab until you can't keep going. The second antler collapses to the ground, and you stumble back, hands shaking.

"Didn't want to hurt him," Oliver insists weakly.

"You were someone we loved," you can see the first antler still jutting out of him, stemming the blood flow but undoubtedly causing excruciating pain. But you spare him no sympathy, only a look of absolute loathing, finally taking in what you've done, the blood your fury had shed. "Someone I loved!" Burst from you, raw brutal betrayal scraping its way from your throat, face hot and wet with tears, falling to your knees, looking up at him with an exhausted fury, "you will never hurt him again. I will never give you that chance."

But Oliver's quickly unfocusing gaze slips from you, rising to a point beyond you, out into the maze. A weak, faint, but somehow still triumphant smile works it's way across his lips.

"Him?"

Like in a horror movie, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. You hear when Oliver finally gives out, stop holding himself up on the statue and fall to the ground, but all you can see is Felix at the edge of the maze.

And that look in his eyes.

Oh god, what have you done?

"Felix," tears start welling in your eyes again, and finally he looks away from Oliver's body, his own antler protruding from him, slowly bleeding out, to you. From here, he can't see the blood on your hands, the blood that's all over you, but he can see it all over Oliver, "Fi, please, you need to -" but he's stepping towards you, almost automatically; he looks ill. You have to look away, can't bear for him to see what your rage has brought about.

"I'm not," his words are robotic, still a bit slurred, and he keeps looking at Oliver, "going without you. 'said that." But he stops behind you. Eyes closed, you wait, you can't bear to even look at him. Then, slowly, he moves. When you breathe, it makes you shake, but you slowly open your eyes.

Felix approaches Oliver. You watch the faint, far away smile wears as he sees Felix up close once more.

"Fe-lix," he sighs faintly, reaching out with weak, shaking, bloody hands, feather light finger tips leaving red streaks along Felix's cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Felix's head dips in close, into Oliver's aching touch, his forehead resting against Oliver's in this moment.

"You were going to fucking kill me, Ollie?" Felix whispered through clenched teeth, on the edge of tears.

"'m sorry," Ollie mumbled weakly, shock and blood loss catching up with him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "didn't want to hurt you."

"You wanted to kill me -"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"It would have hurt them!" Felix grabbed him by the collar with one hand, wrenching the dying boy up enough to see him pointing at you, still kneeling on the ground, second bloody antler laying in front of you. All Oliver could do was make a pained whimper, and Felix dropped him back to the ground, "and you said it yourself-" his voice is venomous, but your breath catches as you realise just how much he must have heard to know that, "and even having a thought like that," he snarls, hatred burning in his eyes, "means you don't fucking know me at all."

Felix is by your side in the very next moment, pulling you into his lap as he leaned back against the base of the sculpture. You're sobbing into your bloody hands, nothing else to do or say. Even as he's shaking, as he's crying too, Felix doesn't let you go, doesn't let you feel anything but secure with him.

"You saw it all, didn't you?" You whispered finally, and feel him nod.

"I said I wouldn't leave without you."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -" and while he tells you that you don't have to be, the words, the fears, the desperate justifications and rationalisations pour out of you, "he said he was trying to kill you, Fi, and I couldn't- I should have walked away, just gotten him kicked out or taken away or- or- but I couldn't," you gasped, "I couldn't let him ever have that kind of chance again, I couldn't risk that, my mind wouldn't let me -"

"I know, I love you," Felix murmurs weakly, his forehead against your shoulder once more, "dad and Duncan will know what to do, they'll take care of it tomorrow," he sounds so young in this moment, so tired and fragile. You nod quietly, leaning into him. When his hands find yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tightly, Oliver's blood is still sticky on your skin. Neither of you seems to care.

"How did you know something was so wrong?" Felix finally asked, the air cooler and quieter now. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it sounds as though the party was winding down. Oliver's party.

"He wasn't that drunk," you said after a long moment of deliberation, "could see it in his eyes," taking a deep breath, you cast your gaze to the guest of honour, completely still, chest no longer shifting with shallow, frantic breathes, "if he wasn't drunk, why was he sick?" Sighing, you leaned into Felix. You felt so hollow; "everything Oliver Quick did, he did with purpose."

[howtofightwrite]

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

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[steppedladder]

The fate of A Modest Renaissance

My latest art post was hinting at it but by this point I should just say it outright: A Modest Renaissance will no longer be an MCYT AU. More info under the cut.

Wait, it's ending?

No. If I stopped making content for AMR I think my brain would boil over.

What does this mean?

Characters and the story have changed. Some, like the one I posted today, underwent minor design changes. Other unposted characters got a major rehaul, and with them storyline alterations. In short, this story will now be populated by original characters.

Why?

I talked a little about it before on my twitter, but I got burnt out on MCYT content. I love the community and the people I've met in the fandom but I'd lost interest in most of the CCs and their stories by Doomsday, and by then had only been watching Techno's streams anyway. He was the reason I got back into MCYT with his Skywars videos. When he left, it made sense that I would too.

But I had a whole story plotted out for this blog. Since I hadn't been watching other CCs/drawing heavily on their plots in the first place, as I continued to work on AMR the characters started to resemble their origins less and less. So eventually I was faced with the choice to:

keep AMR a MCYT AU and rarely post art, squirreling away the "real" AMR in drafts, or

convert all of AMR into original content and (psychologically) give myself total creative freedom, but risk losing my audience.

The choice was clear, so I decided I should do what I want.

What about content already posted on this blog? Is it still canon?

A lot of characterization and plot stayed the same through the transition, especially regarding posted content. Think of it like a beta version of the story.

Now what?

I guess introductions are in order for my new(ish) characters. You've already seen Loume by this point, but I'll post new characters as I finish up their designs.

Whether you choose to stick around is up to you. Thank you for everything, and I hope you enjoy the story.

[usagifuyusummer]

Family Dinner Night!

Congrats Peri(winkle) for finally getting the Godparenting license!!! 🥳🥳🥳 - from your loving parents and godbrother 💖💖💖

More concept art and as usual my insane ramblings below.

I NEED TO GET THE CREATIVE URGES OUT OF MY HEAD!!! It has been bothering with my motivation to finish my gazillions of homeworks lmao. I have so many ideas I need to let out!!! It's suffocating. I hope this will satisfy my creative urges for a while... Or not I will yap about my FOP AU on a separate post (when I'm able).

I can't stop being sad thinking about this family lol. Timmy 😭😭😭

I am not kidding when I say that my head is just filled with so many things that I want to contribute in the FOP fanworks lol. There's a lot I want to do, but so little time...

For now, I've decided to practice my take on the FOP artstyle. I wanted to do something simple as drawing and coloring practice. That's why the coloring this time is flat with no shadings. I think the show doesn't focus on shaded colors too much (except on scenes where there's a heavy implication of day/night, for shock value, etc.).

Just wanted to draw something cute because I haven't been feeling so swell lately. Nothing too poetic or detailed this time.

Other than that, two of the outfits this time is actually inspired by @suki-na-kumo for Peri and an image I found floating around in Twitter/X (sorry I don't remember who shared it) for Timmy's design. Suki-na-kumo's FOP family redesigns are so cool and adorable! I like that they always include flowy attributes in Peri's outfits lol. It makes him look like a pampered brat (which he kinda is seeing how his family coddles him), an otherworldly prince and also a Twink TM (that is unavoidable lol). I kinda want to draw their other FOP redesigns, but I'll just go with Peri's first.

I am not sure where that 18 year old Timmy design is from, but it kinda can be his design for those who theorise him on becoming a lawyer as an adult. There's a lot of instances where Timmy is wearing a suit in the show, but this design is one of my favs due to the hairstyle change. My adult Timmy designs in the future will be influenced from this piece of official art. I wonder if there are more Timmy designs in the wild wild west out there that I haven't seen... It is certainly an interesting find (Teen AJ is also there, and his design also looks cool to me).

Cosmo and Wanda's oufits are something that I cooked up. I don't think the coloring looks good... I just did this on a whim, and for about 13 hours. Damn, I am procrastinating on my work lmao.

Still, the context this time is, that they've had a family dinner to celebrate on Peri's achievement on finally obtaining his godparenting license!!! Good for him!!!

This is an AU if Timmy somehow was able to find a loophole in the "losing your memories of your fairy godparents after you become an adult" rule. Because of that, he continued his life as normal (as Timmy's chaotic life can be), but this time he is able to keep in contact with his fairy family even if they're not contractually obligated to stick together. Timmy does live with the Fairywinkle Cosma's around his college to early work years, but he eventually was able to move out and live on his own at where he works as a lawyer after a while in his adulthood. (His birth parents eventually went on a lifetime vacation without him or just went away for too long that Timmy just lives on his own a lot after he is 18 and above...)

Despite living on his own nowadays (In a New Wish context), Timmy does keep in contact with his fairy family and visits them when he's not busy with his job. Cosmo and Wanda still took a long vacation in this AU, first due to, yeah, Timmy is no easy feat as a godchild lol, and second, they actually want to take their time to raise BOTH of their children (even if Timmy is no longer a child/godchild) and guide them until they're stable adults. Timmy during college years actually only stays with the Fairywinkle Cosma's on holidays, so when Timmy's busy with college, that is when Cosmo and Wanda take their time relaxing lmao.

Sometimes when they really want to have some time alone or when Peri wants to see his bro, they will send Peri to Timmy's college for a day or more. Timmy babysits Peri so much during his college years lol. They both had fun though! With a lot of Peri newfound nuclear fairy power shenanigans at Timmy's college lmao. Studying law and taking the bar exam has never been more chaotic with babysitting a nuclear powered fairy child.

There's a lot more on this AU that I've been thinking, but I'll stop here for now. I need to gather my AU ideas in one post sometime later.

Also, Peri and Timmy are both adults here, Peri's around his 20's here and Timmy is on his early 30's I think. Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri are in their human disguises here, because they want to learn more about human culture (A New Wish context) while also having the desire to be more in Timmy's life.

I headcannon Timmy to be kinda short in his adulthood. This is also a nod to that episode when his fairy family used imperfect human disguises, even Poof/Peri was taller than Timmy in his human baby disguise lol. And also hey, wearing braces during his teen years paid off! (his big teeth are visible only when he opens his mouth lol)

As usual, here's some concept art and a png lineart pic if you want to use it to color it better than I did lmao. (that was a long yapping session... thanks for reading)

[the-kirby-movie]

ATTENTION KIRBY FANS!

Do you want to see a Kirby movie more than anything, but Nintendo keeps letting you down? Well, today's your lucky day! I'm in the process of creating my very own, fanmade Kirby movie based off of Star Allies - and I'd like your help. I believe that with the efforts of a community coming together to work on this passion project and give something that we love our all, it will turn out better than anything official that they could come out with. Overall, while this project is serious to me and something that I am very dedicated to, I also want it to be fun and for everybody to have a good time creating this art together. If you do decide to jump on and help, there's no need to worry about deadlines or stress or needing to have a ton of skill. But, without further ado....

Animators

I'm looking for people that have experience working in Blender here. Pretty much any skill level is okay, though I will still request that you show me some sort of example (just to verify that you know how the application works at all, basically). Ideally I'd like to have enough people working on this that I could step back from leading the animation, eventually, and focus fully on writing/storyboarding and other design aspects instead - but I understand that this might be unrealistic.

Storyboarding

The more the merrier! Regardless of the level of your art skill or your style, if you can sketch out scenes in a way that's decipherable to others, you're more than welcome here.

Voice Acting

The big one. Voice actors for Kirby, Meta Knight, King Dedede, and Bandana Waddle Dee would be very much appreciated. I also have a longer list of characters that need voices that includes many of the Dream Friends, Hyness, the Mage Sisters, and more. This is the one thing I will likely be a little picky on, and require you to audition for the role.

Writers

Honestly, I'm not looking for many other writers right now. I think I have it mostly under control, but I could possibly take one or two co-writers on with me.

Sound Effects/Miscellaneous

Do you think you have something to bring to the table that I didn't list before? Great, this is for you! Let me know what you want to do, and honestly, I doubt I'll have any reason to turn you away. Whether it's stitching music and effects together, editing extra graphics, or literally whatever you think will be helpful, tell me so that I can get you in.

Community

If none of that sounds like something you'd be interested in, well, you can still do something to help. Just stick around here! Throughout development I'll be posting updates, questions, and polls about decisions on this blog for you to influence. I want this to be something that the community creates together and can enjoy together. By us, for us, you know? And everyone who wants to deserves to be involved.

- Closing -

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! This blog will likely be changing a lot in the upcoming days as I update and personalize it to be more effective. I also now have a discord server! Anyways, though, the long and short of it is that I'd love to work on this with other people but I will complete it, no matter what. So this is your official guarantee - sometime, in the indiscriminate future, you will have a Kirby movie. And I hope you enjoy it just as much as I'll enjoy making it, because honestly, this is just my dream. I hope I see you around, and have a great day!

progress as of 8/15/24: trailer scripted and (mostly) storyboarded. possibly starting animation soon!

[zhng96]

𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 (𝐖/ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒) ― zb1

↳ pairing: ot9!zb1 x gn!reader

↳ warnings: lowercase intended, these r a lot longer than blurbs LMFAO, implied situationship at the beginning of jiwoong's?? mentions of drinking in zhang hao's, gunwook's is short sawry :(

↳ note: these r so fun i want to do a part 2 of just them as other taylor swift songs. taerae and hao's are my personal favs they are literally so cute i will die.

perm taglist (open): @tzuberry

― KIM JIWOONG.

↳ now playing: style by taylor swift.

jiwoong finds himself slowing his pace as your house gets closer into his view. the light thuds on the concrete pavement are the only sounds that are heard at this time of night in your neighbourhood, but it evokes a sense of comfort.

in hopes of distracting you from his slowing pace, he reaches out to thread your fingers into his. when he hears the hitch of your breath, he smiles- suddenly the thoughts of parting for the night turn into an overwhelming amount of admiration towards you.

despite never disclosing your relationship, it is clear that the two of you are very into each other. however, that didn’t stop the heavy question from lingering on your lips every time you see him.

(more under the cut!)

sure the silence was nice, but your overwhelming thoughts consume you and a question seems to sprout out unprovoked.

“jiwoong, i’m not the only one you’re seeing, aren’t i?”

of course, you couldn't blame anyone for also take interest in him either, he was attractive, dreamy and kind.

jiwoong seems to freeze for a moment, his grip on your hand loosening while the rest of his body tenses in reaction; quite the juxtaposition, but it showed that even in the most compromising situations, he chose to be delicate with you.

"yn, i-" when the sound of his wavering voice fills your ears, you instantly back down.

the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable and lose him altogether, "sorry it's just- i'm so tired of this cat and mouse game-"

"yn." this time, his tone was quite the opposite of what it had been before. that was one thing you admired about him; the way he picked himself back up so easily.

you look at him with furrowed brows, your rambling voice slowly fading out as yours eyes meet his. "i'm the one who should be sorry... i may have been seeing other people but trust me- none of them compare to how much i feel for you."

watching as your lips part in surprise, a warm smile makes its way onto his lips before he continues, "you are worth more than i think i could ever give to you- but if you will have me, i'll try my hardest to give you everything you deserve."

"jiwoong, you have given me everything i have ever wanted and more."

― ZHANG HAO.

↳ now playing: you are in love by taylor swift.

it wasn't like mieun meant to do it of course- she was hammered; but even with that in mind, you couldn't help but be pissed. your clothes were now drenched in her concoction of drinks and spots were starting to dry, causing bits of your shirt to stick to your skin. thankfully, while you were patting your shirt with a wet paper towel, hanbin came over to offer to look after her while you either went home or found a change of clothes.

spoiler alert- you ended up doing both of those things.

however, the last thing you expected was to see your best friend zhang hao at the party as well- also as a designated sober friend. he watched the interaction from afar: your figure in distress as you try to find a way to either get home or get out of these clothes.

"yn!", he calls from over the music, and your head immediately turns in his direction. he gestures to you to follow him and you oblige.

"wait in the bathroom, i'll grab you the spare clothes i have in my car", he then opens the bathroom door for you and gives you a reassuring smile, before shutting it as you walk in.

after what felt like forever, a gentle knock sounds throughout the bathroom.

"it's me, i'll just leave the clothes hanging on the doorknob alright?"

you let out a small 'okay', before opening the door just a crack and reaching for the bag hung around the door knob and shutting it once again once it was in your grasp.

fortunately for you, the liquid had not gotten onto your jeans so you just had to change into his shirt. disgustedly stripping off your shirt, you turn on the sink and wash off any alcohol that had stuck to your skin and when you finally put on zhang hao's shirt- a whiff of his cologne wafts into your nose.

fighting off the blush that threatened to creep up on your cheeks, you take the leftover fabric from the shirt that draped just past your mid-thigh and tie it into a thick knot before leaving the bathroom altogether.

you hadn't expected zhang hao to just be a few inches from the bathroom waiting patiently for your return, but there he was, and his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

"you ready to get out of here?" he asks, silently basking in the sight of you in his shirt.

"but what about mieun?"

"hanbin's already taking her home."

to say the ride home was filled with conversation would be a big fat lie. it was quite silent, zhang hao's radio was turned down to almost a whisper. although you were itching to say something, you couldn't find anything to talk about and it seemed like zhang hao was very comfortable in the silence. did you only see him as a best friend? does someone who only sees someone as a best friend find it hard to find something to converse about with them? all the more, blush when they give you their shirt to help you out?

"zhang hao.." you started, but you couldn't seem to find words to let you finish.

after a few seconds following your failed attempt at conversation, zhang hao smiles gently before glancing at you briefly, "you're my best friend."

tilting your head at the cryptic statement, you want to inquire before he beats you to it, "but i'm in love with you. like truly in love."

licking your lips, your eyes never leave his figure. his eyes stick to the road, but you can tell he meant it- you could sense how he itched to look back at you, "i think i'm in love with you too..."

― SUNG HANBIN.

↳ now playing: call it what you want by taylor swift.

hanbin has made it very clear that he would do anything for you and more. if he had the ability to give you the world he'd also find a way to gift you the moon as well.

for example, when earlier today you had told him you were craving stir fried spicy pork- now he had just texted you that he was on his way with spicy pork and your favourite dessert.

when he arrived at your door with the biggest grin, both the stir fried pork and dessert in his arms, he quickly sets them down to replace them with you. the embrace was quick but full of every feeling that bubbled within him everytime he saw you.

when you lean in to peck him on his cheeks, his eyes catch a gold necklace with a heart pendant dangling from your neck. obliging to your kiss, he smiles before his hands move to rub the heart between his fingers.

you quickly blush- you hadn't expected him to notice the new necklace so quickly.

"what's this?", he asks, before a carving on the back of the heart scratches at his finger tips.

he flips it over to find his initials engraved on the back side of the heart- a big goofy grin finds its way onto his lips and you can't help but focus on each and every feature of his face as he reacts.

"you bought a necklace with my initials engraved onto it?"

"yeah... not in a weird possesive way or anything i just... the way you love me is the most precious thing in my life and i never want to forget what- or rather who makes it so precious in the first place..."

"we better get me one of your initials too then."

― SEOK MATTHEW.

↳ now playing paper rings by taylor swift.

matthew liked you. like really really liked you. he found it so unbelievable that you held the same emotions for him, but you did- and god did you know how to make it known.

you were on the same boat, matthew has always been the sweetest, most patient and understanding person you had ever met.

the night he had confessed to you while rewatching a romcom for the 13th time in a row had made it’s way into your “favourite memories” folder in your head.

he was everything you could ever ask for and more- everything he did for you was so much even if it was just buying you your favourite snacks.

before you even considered your feelings for matthew, you considered yourself as someone who wasn’t exactly the most romantic- but when you were around him it’s like a switch flipped.

even if you adored the thought of the idea of a beautiful crystal sitting in the middle of your wedding ring, one which glistened beautifully when the light hit no matter the angle, even if matthew proposed with a ring made of newspaper- you’d accept it in a heartbeat.

“what you thinkin’ about?” he drawls, nudging you by the shoulder as he left no space between the two of you on the couch.

“mm.. js’ really love you.” you smile, glacing at him with adoration.

his eyes crinkle as he smiles and he grabs your arms and pulls you closer to him- if even possible.

“i think the world of you.” he replies, hands resting on your thighs as you were now straddling his waist. you knew that even if that engagement ring was made of newspaper, matthew’s neverending fondness for you would make up for it.

― KIM TAERAE.

↳ now playing: fearless by taylor swift.

as much as you felt bad for leaving your coworker's wedding, it was getting boring and you weren't about to waste the 150 dollars you spent on a nice outfit just to sit and clap while others danced.

thus leading you to be drive down the dark streets in taerae’s car with the radio on blast. the late summer rain started pouring, but taerae's windshield wipers found it easy to wipe away any droplets of rain from the windshield.

lovers wasn't the right word to describe your relationship with taerae- it more of you having a crush and not knowing if he felt the same. way he looked in a button down, his blazer discarded in the backseat, and his sleeves folded up to his elbows.

he hums along to the song while you simply stare, he looked so good right now- that wasn't exactly what someone should be thinking about they're best friend, right?

"the rain's starting to pour really hard, how about we park at the 711?", his suggestion immediately snaps you away from your stupor and you find his eyes glancing back and forth between you and the road.

"uh- yeah... that's fine."

when taerae pulls into the parking lot, he cranks the radio even louder and you look at his with a raised brow, "c'mon!"

widening your eyes at the sight of him opening his door to make way for the pouring rain, he steps out and kneels to make eye contact with you, his gaze expecting you to do the same.

"what?!"

"we didn't leave the wedding just to not have any fun, c'mon!" you bite your lip in contemplation at his reasoning- surely it was a good argument.

nodding to yourself, you open your door and try not to flinch at the feeling of the rain starting to soak your well done hair.

taerae quickly makes his way you your side of the car, keeping the door of the passenger side slightly agape to hear the blasting radio better.

once he turns back to you, you swear you had tunnel vision- his hair was slicked back by his own doing as the rain soaked it and so was his button-down.

he takes hold of one of your hands and raises it above your head, twisting it to help you spin- the sudden action makes you grin.

then he grabs onto both of your hands and starts to dance, relishing in the way the music echoed throughout the desolate gas station parking lot.

"taerae! my clothes were 150 dollars, i don't know if playing in the rain would make the price worth it", you say between giggles. even as you said it, you complied with his dancing.

he tilts his head in amusement, watching as you too enjoyed the moment albeit the comments that were meant to bring the two of you back to reality, "alright then, if we get it dry cleaned and i take you out to dinner, will it be worth the price then?"

he pulls you close, the two of you stopping in your tracks and a burst of confidence surges through your veins, "yeah... it'll be worth every moment i spent thinking about you too."

― SHEN RICKY.

↳ now playing gorgeous by taylor swift.

your relationship with ricky was simply that there wasn't one. sure you were acquaintances as you know each other through mutual friends and those mutual friends hang out a lot, but you just can't seem to talk to him.

grudgingly, you'll admit that you don't talk to him because you hate the butterflies he gives you from simply looking at you, or the fact that you swear you would melt into a puddle if he smiled at you.

however, for ricky, he enjoyed how painfully obvious your ignoring of his existence was. sure, he found himself smirking at himself at the thought of you unable to even maintain eye contact with him when he asked you a question, but had he ever found out why? the answer was no.

maybe it was because of the rumour that you truly did have a boyfriend? perhaps the rumour had been true and you were simply just avoiding him because your boyfriend had asked you to. or it was something completely unrelated to even having a boyfriend at all and you just had some problem with him that he was unaware of.

he settled on the former- he didn't want to suffer through a headache due to mindless thinking.

however, his observation was clearly proven wrong when he finds himself left alone in a room with you after both of your guys' friends went to the convenience store without you two knowing.

the silence was awkward, ricky watched as you fidgeted with your fingers and absolutely avoided even looking in his general direction.

"why won't you look at me? or talk to me? we've known each other for 2 months now..."

you purse your lips and finally find the courage to meet his eyes, you quickly regret that decision as you find it hard to look away.

"i'm not good with talking to people..."

"such a cop-out answer", he chuckles, his smile only making your heart race faster than it already was.

"do you have a boyfriend?" the casualty of his question catches you off guard and you part your lips in surprise, an obnoxious questioning sound coming from your lips.

"what made you think that?!" you finally manage to sputter out an answer, and ricky gives you an entertained smirk- you feel like you will melt in your spot if he keeps it up.

"so you aren't avoiding me because you have a boyfriend?"

"what kind of nonsense is that? i'm avoiding you because you're really cute and i hate that just by looking at me i find myself unable to process anything!"

a few seconds of silence overlaps the two of you before you snap your mouth open in distress, "shit..."

"hey, don't stress, we can take this slow. at least now i know why you were avoiding me."

"take things slow..?"

"you didn't think i'd care about you ignoring me if i wasn't an ounce interested in you, did you?"

― KIM GYUVIN.

↳ now playing: cruel summer by taylor swift.

you were in quite the predicament. kim gyuvin was your brothers best friend, not someone you could have a crush on. you two were friends, not close of course; only usually talking when your brother was around. after all, it would be quite weird to hang out alone- at least in your opinion.

in all fairness, you hated your relationship with him. you hated keeping secrets from him just to keep him around. sure, it was selfish to wish for more, if you told him you liked him and it didn't turn out well, your brother may end up losing his best friend too.

however, you were in much luck. your brother along with gyuvin had just graduated. you once had overheard the two talking about moving out together and going to a school the next city away.

summer was dawning in, the rain started to leave and your mind turned it gears with careful cogs. now was the perfect time to confess- if he rejected you, your relationship would not weigh in on his and your brothers', if he said yes- well, you hadn't really thought about it.

either way, either ending satisfied you. you didn't expect much from it, really- but the thought of having a chance to keep him around filled your being with much hope.

it was at least 1 hour past midnight. you went down to grab a small midnight snack, the weight of seeing gyuvin in the living room with your brother free from your chest after hearing the snores coming from your siblings' room just down the hall.

as you turn from the stairs to face the kitchen, you find a tall brunette sitting at the kitchen island, eyes already on your figure.

"oh-"

"hey", his smile was gentle, his voice was laced in fatigue but he didn't seem to want to move in his spot, almost waiting for something- or someone?

"sorry, i thought you were asleep. i heard snoring..."

"oh, your brother fell asleep five minutes into the movie, i couldn't stand his snoring so i brought him up to his room", he chuckled, you find yourself smiling at the sound.

you walk towards your stove, feeling a little intimidated as his gaze does not leave your body.

"you happy you graduated?" you ask, your back turned towards him as you set a pot of water onto the stove.

"hm, bittersweet feelings."

"why's that?" you furrow a brow, staring at the water in the pot, praying it would boil faster.

"js' wish i had done somethings while i was still in highschool... 'dunno"

you only hum, the thought of confessing digging itself to the top of your brain. was now a good time?

"yn?" you blink, turning you head in his direction. had you been in a trance for an embarrassing amount of time?

"think you could make me a pack too?" he gestures towards the singular pack of ramen sitting atop the counter. you tense for a moment before complying, turning to the pantry to retrieve another pack.

by the time you make your way back in front of the pot, the water is already boiling. you open both packets, dumping the noodles in and pulling the flavour packets out. turning the heat to medium, you still refuse to turn your body back towards gyuvin in fear.

now. right now is the best time.

"you thought about the university you want to go to once you graduate-"

"gyuvin i like you... it's bad."

taking his silence as a definite no, you try to blink away the tears the surface, eyes burning into the noodles that slowly softened in the water.

you think that he's found his escape, quietly going up the stairs while your back is still turned but you find your observation wrong. a gentle hand wraps around your wrist and beckons you to look at the culprit.

when you turn, you expect to find gyuvin looking at you with sincere apology. instead, you find a coy smile on his lips.

"what's so bad about that?" you look at his eyes in exasperation, searching for evidence of a joke- was he teasing you right now?

"you're my brothers best friend! not to mention you're moving away!"

"would you believe me if i told you that your brother knew about my crush on you?"

"what?!" gyuvin snickers before putting a finger to his lips, sure you were being adorable- but too loud at 1am.

he turns to turn the heat on the stove off before looking at you again, "and we've decided we're not moving... we both didn't get in so we're staying here to go to uni."

letting out a breath of relief, you still shook in your spot, "so you don't think it's weird that you're best friends with my brother and i'm his sister who has feelings for you?"

"what, is there some love handbook i don't know about?"

you can't help the light-hearted laugh that erupts from your throat at his sarcasm, "no... i guess there isn't."

"good, because not telling you i liked you before i graduated was my one and only regret..."

― PARK GUNWOOK.

↳ now playing: message in a bottle by taylor swift.

park gunwook was an admirable classmate of yours. he was bound to have admirers, he was class prez after all. his ranks were good and he is attractive- no denying that.

what is embarrasing however, is how you found yourself as one of those admirers.

it started off with simple notes of motivation. you only signed with an anagram. then, it turned into small gifts from the school store.

you revelled in the way he surveyed the room after each time he read a note from you, or the way he would ask his friends if the had seen someone set something on his desk.

however, you were diligent with being sneaky. you would only set something on his desk when the hallway and classroom were clear- it was usually during lunch or, if you got to the school too early, you would do it then.

what you weren't diligent with though, was estimating his intelligence.

arriving at the school late today, you rush into the classroom, praying that teacher was also running late. to your misfortune- he was not.

you stops you at the door, publicly announcing your arrival, making your rushed morning even worse before handing you a detention slip and dismissing you to your desk.

you set your bag down beside the desk chair and when you look up, a light pink sticky note tabbed to your desk catches your eye.

you frown before sitting down, grabbing the sticky note and fumbling to read it.

"thanks for the gifts yn- or should i say, my secret admirer. want to go to the convenience store with my at lunch? - p. gunwook" it read.

in surprise, you perk your head up and immediatley jerk your head into his direction. he was already looking back at you, a bashful smile on his face accompanied by a shy tilt of his head.

a goofy smile breaks through it restraints before you could stop it and you nod- suddenly your morning wasn't too bad.

― HAN YUJIN.

↳ now playing: enchanted by taylor swift.

han yujin did not think that the last thing that would be engraved in his mind after gunwook’s birthday party would be you.

you were gunwook’s childhood friend- sure he’d mentioned you every once in a while, but yujin had never truly met you.

he was glad that gunwook’s birthday party gave him that chance.

you were absolutely captivating- the way you looked in your formal yet casual attire, the way you lit up around the people you were close to, and the kindness you spread to everyone even if you didn’t know them.

yujin actually had the chance to talk to you, probably the main reason you had been lingering in his mind since he had left the gathering.

gunwook had pulled you over to finally introduce you to his friends. when you introduced yourself, he found out that you were actually from around here, just attending a different school.

the two of you actually hit it off pretty well, while gunwook and gyuvin were goofing on the dance floor, yujin and you just decided to sit and watch.

as he grew to know more about you; your school life, your friends, you rank in class, your hobbies and more, he couldn’t help the pit that grew in his stomach.

with everything that you do, you were bound to have someone interested in you- or have your interest lying on someone else, right?

little did yujin know that you were thinking just the same. it would be impossible to imply that yujin has never had an encounter with an admirer, let alone have his eye on someone.

when you two parted ways at the party, the longing to see eachother again had already started to set in. after a few bittersweet goodbyes, you two got into seperate cars and headed home.

as if the world heard both of your prayers, the next week, yujin was invited to hangout with gunwook and a few other friends- he could only hope that by “a few other friends” you would make an appearance.

and you did.

the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him gave him his answer. the only person you had been waiting for was him.

navi. mlist.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 1 - Voyeurism

Kate Laswell x Bricks (CIA Asset OC)

CW: Dub-con/Non-con voyeurism (one person is not aware they are being watched), surveillance, sex work, dirty talk, degradation, impact play, daddy kink, too many mirrors, too much setup and an abrupt ending, big dogs

“Got me Watcher?” Bricks covers the movement of her mouth by touching up her lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“Coming in clear,” Kate answers. “Go ahead and run a final calibration on the lenses.” She marks the edges of the camera range as Bricks sweeps her eyes in a practiced pattern to confirm the fit and function of the contacts. When she crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, confusing the feed, Kate chuckles. “Save it for Mendoza.”

“Please,” Bricks snickers. “My best is wasted on him.”

The doors open. Two large men, Mendoza’s bodyguards, usher Bricks forward. Real professionals, Kate notes, neither of them letting their eyes linger on stunning legs or exposed cleavage. One waves a wand over her, hair to heels, and the other takes the clutch from Bricks’ hand. He rifles through it, then doesn’t give it back.

“My second best lipstick is in there,” Bricks protests, half-heartedly. “I’m gonna want that back, later.”

“You’ll get it back when you leave,” the man grunts. “Come with us please.”

“Give me doors,” Kate instructs as they proceed down the hall. The cameras flick almost aimlessly as her asset strides between her escorts, but Kate is ready. “Left again,” she murmurs, quickly tagging frames for review. “Good girl.”

Once Bricks is handed off to Mendoza, the real work starts. Dinner goes as expected. Mendoza brags and paws. Bricks is charming, flirty, and teasing. She plays every bit of her part while Kate half listens and reviews data on the guards. Contractors, she notes as Bricks titters about something. Mendoza is just oggling her tits, so Kate continues reading the dossier. Contractors, good ones. Ex-military, but unlikely to see Bricks for the threat she is. The only problem will be-

“Puppies,” Bricks coos, as two Rottweilers come trotting up to the table. “I love dogs. How old are they?”

“They’re trained as part of the security detail,” Kate states as Mendoza goes on about pedigree. “German commands.”

Bricks kisses one of the dogs on the snout. “Do they know any tricks?”

“They’re trained killers,” the mark brags. “Only listen to me and designated handlers.”

“The handler command is folge mir,” Kate provides. Luckily, Bricks isn’t able to comment on her abysmal accent. “Ruhig. Geh runter.”

It doesn’t take long for Mendoza to send the dogs away, tired of not being the center of attention. And Bricks plays him like a fiddle, drawing him all around the penthouse to give Kate sight lines, the layout, and an unobstructed view of the server room through the kitchen.

When he finally catches her, Kate cant help but snort. “Is he as bad a kisser as he sounds? Your not usually this all over the place."

Bricks doesn’t bother to hold back a soft laugh. Mendoza lifts his mouth from her neck with an almost affronted grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” she giggles, with a peck to his lips. “Ticklish, and I just feel good with you.”

“Can I make you feel better?”

“Here’s hoping,” Kate mutters as she counts server racks in Bricks’ periphery. The woman’s laugh rings off the marble counter tops.

Kate doesn’t bother watching the feed as Bricks kisses Mendoza down the hall, eyes closed to avoid any chance he might notice her contacts. When she opens her eyes again, Kate stifles a groan and pulls out her cigarettes. Mendoza’s bedroom has an entire wall of mirrors, and another on the wall above his headboard. Bricks kisses him some more, but in no time, she’s bent over the bed, looking at her own breasts nearly spilling from the top of her dress.

She’s there for… a lot longer than Kate expected. Whatever Mendoza is doing, she looks as bored as she ever does when she’s in character. Kate decides to step in when she moans, rote.

“Oh no,” Kate chuckles, grinning when Bricks’ eyes snap to her reflection. “I know you can do better than that. If I have to watch you have sex, you’re going to make it worth my while. Get that ass in the air, lets’s see if Mendoza can’t be good for something.”

Bricks’ next moan is much more resonant. Mendoza echoes her as he bends over her back, no doubt pressing his cock against her barely there panties.

“Ask for a spanking,” Kate commands, lighting a cigarette. “Ask nice, the way I like.”

“Please spank me, daddy,” Bricks moans, holding eye contact with the mirror, staring directly at Kate.

“Good girl, there you go,” Kate purrs, over Mendoza’s tiresome noises. “Too bad he’s going to be such a shit lay. You’re right, your best is wasted on him. Say thank you.”

Bricks hisses after Mendoza gives her three quick, sloppy strikes. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Fuck, you’re a slut, huh?” Mendoza flips her, and Kate laughs to see the mirrored tiles on the ceiling. “I can be your daddy, baby girl.”

“I’m tired of hearing his voice,” Kate scoffs. “Put his mouth to use.”

Bricks opts to grab a fistful of his hair and drag the man down her body. Kate gets to enjoy the view of her, chest heaving and disheveled as she winks up at her reflection. There’s no rolling eyes - there’s nothing of interest in the room, really, and Mendoza is apparently all noise and no skill.

“Touch yourself,” Kate commands. “Give yourself a show, beautiful.”

Bricks draws the fingers of her free hand down her neck, toying with her necklace before pushing the fabric of her dress down beneath full breasts. Kate makes an appreciative noise when she pinches a nipple. The woman in the mirror moans and arches her hips into the mouth between her thighs. Her eyes go half-lidded, when Mendoza pulls away to pant against her, one hand working its way up to prod at her. He groans something about “wet” and “tight,” like he had anything to do with the first and doesn’t understand the implications of the second.

“Please,” Bricks moans at her reflection.

“Oh,” Kate chuckles, “Is he really that good?”

“Roll over,” Mendoza growls as he stands. He’s dropped his pants and underwear.

“No,” Kate snorts. “I’m not watching your bored face as you compare him to Ghost. Ride him.”

All it takes is one skilled twist of Bricks’ hips before Mendoza is lying on his back, groaning under the woman Kate could command to kill him at any moment.

But Kate simply sits back in her chair. “Finish him off before I finish this cigarette, and I’ll let you come.”

Bricks narrows her eyes at the mirror. Kate can almost hear her calculating how long it’s been since she heard the click of the lighter. And then she balances on the balls of her feet and Kate grins as she watches the woman tear Mendoza’s orgasm from him with brutal efficiency.

“Good girl.”

[frostiwars]

let's pretend i live on the west coast and it's still DAY 5: AU!!

do you think we're gay in every universe?

in which i turn insane and draw 5 different drawings for one prompt. and as a result, the rendering is a lot rougher, but oh well! i hope the designs are fun enough!!

GORE WARNING!!!!! and design ramblings under the cut

Role Swap: i referenced hanyuu from higurashi for king metata because, while dedede has no idea about how to properly dress in traditional voidborn-based royalty attire (because his parents never taught him), metata wears EVEN MORE traditional garb, fancified, and a tiara rather than a crown cap. instead of hiding his wings in his cape, he hides them in his silk scarf. i didn’t even have to change his hime cut. he’s still cocky and arrogant but less traumatized so he’s less serious and more haughty. also his bow tying his hakama is shaped like an M haha. meanwhile, knight dede is far more armored, aiming for bulk over dps, and of course his armor has his classic triangular patterning all over the place. instead of the jaw scar, his eyes are clawed over. i wonder how that happened...

Species Swap: voidborn dedede is shorty mcshort short, even shorter than regular meta. he’s so short he doesn’t even wear hakama cuz he’d just trip over them, so he sticks with just a kimono and obi (once again adding to the androgyny common in most voidborn designs). his geta are less bulky as well. it’s not seen fully because his wings are out but his cloak goes all the way to his ankles instead of his knees. additionally, his wings have a blue gradient that matches the new color of his robe. his hammer is more embellished, like if galaxia was a giant mallet instead of a sword. and to keep with the ‘circular’ feeling for the hair common to my puffball gijinkas, i gave him kinda croissanty hair. meanwhile, avian meta has eschewed much of his armor for the sake of piercing and aerodynamics. he’s much lighter and his sleeves flow out to make room for the wings he can spawn on his arms. and of course his hair is slicked back and feathery like Coo and Vul. even his mask has a few more spikes to imitate bird talons.

dedede is a negatively-to-neutrally charged voidborn. i talked with my sibling @clutzicone-dts and they suggested denial as a birth emotion. i also like @moonmacabre01's idea of using regret. very fitting for a redeemable character

Gender Swap: normal dedede wears his garb in a feminine fashion, wearing the kimono over the hakama, so fem dedede does it in reverse, tucking the kimono inside the hakama. different sandals again, and wearing just the crown while eschewing the cap, mostly so i can have her long flowing braids more visible. at least she has a top knot to resemble the pom pom tho. meta meanwhile is largely unchanged physically (duh, voidborns don't have physical sex) with outfit adjustments. she keeps some design aspects from her younger days to distinguish her from normal meta while still seeming in character. tassels on the shoulder pads, and a hood on the cape instead of the frill. plus her lower body armor is longer and more decorated to give the illusion of a skirt without actually being one and i gave her low double buns to keep the round hair shape without just leaving it as a bowl cut

Mirror Versions: i have a whole ass complicated headcanon for the mirror dimension. i think it would be best described that, in this gijinkaverse, the mirror dimension is less an alternate universe and more an alternate timeline that went wrong at a very specific point. it's led to shadow dedede being much more... in tune, let's say, with the dark matter blade within his heart. and dameta isn't very pleased about that. after all, the two never got the chance to reconcile over Meta Knight's Revenge before things went to shit in that world. so they have a very complicated, somewhat tragic relationship. but i can talk about that more another time. let's just say that all of this is why i made certain slight changes to the two's designs. but i also gave dameta striped legs because stripes are for evil people

Bad Ending:

:)

no spoilers. feel free to theorize about it. i'm sure there are plenty of clues to let you figure it out on your own.

[ddarker-dreams]

Waning Moon.

Yan Giorno x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, religions symbolism and codependency (???). Word count: 3k.

You don’t remember it being this difficult to stay up late. 

As a child, the concept was so novel that the excitement alone sustained you. Streetlamps illuminated a world that fell into stasis until the sun poked its head over in the east, all creation held its breath in anticipation. You’d settle into this valley between loneliness and the closest you’d ever get to peace. 

There was only you and that was frightening. 

There was only you and that was comforting. 

As an adult, staying up late requires intentionality, willpower, and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. 

The allure of courting a silent relationship with the moon might not be as mystifying, but the charm isn’t entirely lost with age. It has remained constant while you endured an upheaval you never expected. Constants become anchors in an otherwise restless sea. Come what may, you know this for certain — the moon will rise every night over a villa whose doors don’t unlock at your behest. 

Sighing, you shut the book in your hands and rub your eyes. You haven’t been able to retain any of the words on the pages. It reminds you of those late nights spent hunched over at your desk, diligently studying for the esame di stato. Whenever you began to doze off, you’d chastise yourself; this pertained to your future, after all. Never could you have fathomed your life would unravel the way it did. 

It’s this bitter sentiment that makes you question what exactly you’re trying to accomplish here. 

Is it boredom that’s encouraged this desire to stick your nose in Giorno’s affairs? Spite? You cannot say for certain. 

For a week now (you presume, at least, keeping track of the days has lost its luster), the individual who uprooted your life has been notably absent. No matter how tumultuous his affairs were, he made it a point to at least join you for breakfast or dinner, if not both. Such is his wish to lend an air of normalcy to this dubious union. Lately, you’ve only seen him in passing, as if he were a specter haunting the hall and not the man who holds the deed. 

What remained consistent, however, is his return to your shared bedroom to sleep. Physiological needs are the great equalizer. You don’t know how, but he can slip into bed without waking you. Had it not been for the wrinkled bed sheets and the lingering aroma of cologne come morning, you never would’ve known he’d been there. 

You thought if you stayed up long enough, you might entertain a conversation that lasted longer than a few minutes. Morbid curiosity is a surprisingly strong motivator. 

Unfortunately, reality rarely aligns with your hopes. It’s currently three in the morning and there’s been no sign of Giorno. You refasten your silk robe upon standing, appraising the master suite for some means to preoccupy yourself. It’s when your weary eyes land on the canopy bed that your resolve is tested. Really, what is it you’re trying to do? Have a heart-to-heart with the man who controls the country from the shadows? Get in a few more sarcastic quips before calling it a day? 

It’s this challenge to your original design that has you walking over to your side of the bed. 

That is, until your name is spoken by the door. 

You freeze where you stand, feeling akin to a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar. You never gave much thought to if you’re breaking some unspoken rule by dilly-dallying all night. At the very least, Giorno wouldn’t appreciate the damage to your health. He’s never harsh with his chastising — if you can even call it that — but you’re in uncharted territory. A week of sleeping three to four hours could make a sinner of the most steadfast saint. 

He repeats your name, likely assuming you didn’t hear him the first time, and you swallow thickly. 

“I, um…” you trail off, playing with the ends of your hair, “I just felt like… walking around…?” 

It occurs to you then that he never asked what you were doing, he simply said your name. This unprompted confession paired with your conspicuous body language paints you in a guilty light. 

Silence hangs in the room. 

You count the seconds as they trudge by — seven, eight, nine — each addition feeling as if they’re intensifying gravity. Threatened by the prospect of being crushed beneath this force, you pivot, forcing yourself to face him and better gauge your situation. A mannequin that’d just been brought to life would move far more naturally than you. 

Turquoise eyes stare back. They’re inquisitive, maybe, but not scrutinizing. You visibly relax. 

“So I didn’t wake you?”

You shake your head. 

“Was there something you needed, then?” 

You’re about to shake your head again when the clouds outside part. 

Silvery shades flood the room and envelop Giorno’s side profile. It illuminates his countenance, from the soft curls of his golden hair to his rosy lips and sharp jawline. You’ve become familiar with his features throughout the years. That’s why the slightest deviation catches your attention, as if you were an antiquarian charged with determining if a piece of art were fake or genuine. His complexion is duller and bags are forming beneath his eyes. 

“You look exhausted,” you remark. 

“Isn’t that considered a rude thing to say to someone?” is his reply. 

You frown at his lighthearted tone. He’s still wearing a suit, which means whatever he came back from was business related. From this distance, you feel there are details you’re still missing, so you close the gap. It’s unusual to be near Giorno — especially of your own volition — yet this burning need to make sense of things spurs you on. Standing before him, you narrow your eyes. He finds your behavior far too perplexing to speak. 

You’ve always felt Giorno possesses an otherworldly quality that sets him apart from the common rabble, yourself included. This quiet magnetism, steadfast determination, and insightfulness forged from a life of having the odds stacked against him. Consequently, the fact he’s made of flesh and blood often eludes you. So ingrained in your mind is this concept of him being on a pedestal, high and untouchable as Michelangelo’s David. The present predicament is at odds with this lofty image. 

His skin is warm when you take his hand in yours. So he isn’t made of Carrara marble, then. 

Giorno does nothing to challenge your uncharacteristic boldness when you lead him to your destination. By your prompting, he sits on the bed’s edge, utterly transfixed on the link that connects your bodies. It’s like the simple contact placed a spell over him. You take a seat by his side, retrieving your hand while you do so. He almost reaches to take it back before thinking better of it. 

“There must be something pretty serious going on,” you point out. “What is it?” 

“It’s… a heavy subject matter. I wouldn’t want to unnecessarily burden you.” 

You hold up your left hand for him. In doing so, the diamond on your wedding ring catches the moonlight and gleams. “Is this just for show, then? Marriage is about sharing burdens.” 

He chuckles softly, though there’s a certain melancholy to the sound. “I thought you didn’t like to consider me your husband.” 

“The Catholic Church frowns on divorce. Now, enough with trying to change the subject,” you maintain unwavering eye contact. “There are a lot of people who rely on Passione, and you, by extension. You keep the worst of things in check. I might have my… reservations about the specifics, but even I can’t deny that.”

Taking a deep breath, you add, “So, if talking might help you, then… talk. There’s too much at stake to get caught up in petty feelings.” 

For a moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating. He’s always been one to indulge you whenever he can, especially since you rarely ask for anything. 

“Alright. I’ll tell you on one condition, although I must insist on not getting into the details.” 

You squirm in your seat. “And said condition is…?” 

There’s a mischievous tint to his eyes when he reopens them. “Have you been waiting for me all night? Answer truthfully.” 

“I haven’t—!” 

“Truthfully, [First].” 

You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “... Yes.” 

Instead of teasing you, as he enjoys doing, he gives you a gentle smile. The kind he reserves solely for you. He squeezes your hand but doesn’t allow his touch to overstay its welcome. He could take so much more from you and still, he exercises restraint. Is it because it’d shatter the illusion that he was doing all of this to ‘keep you safe’ if he acted on carnality? His commitment to the farce is almost enough to convince you. 

“Thank you, regardless of whatever the reason for it may have been,” Giorno’s sincerity is undeniably stirring. This is the Don of Passione — a man who can win over the undying loyalty of others within a single conversation. Falling into his rhythm is as easy as breathing, he sets such an enticing tempo. 

“You aren’t going back on your word, are you?” You challenge, wanting to distract yourself from this budding feeling in your chest. Whether it be resentment or apathy, he’s capable of chipping away at the walls you form before you realize what’s happening. It should be simple, in theory. Loathing the man who took your freedom and never plans to give it back. It should be very simple. 

But when he looks at you as he does now, like he’d reach into his chest and tear out his heart if only you asked, you’re at a loss. 

“Giorno? What is it?” 

His pupils dilate when his name leaves your lips. This spacing out is unlike him, he’s the keenest person you’ve ever met. It’s the reason why you’ve never been able to get one over him. You’re about to snap your fingers in front of his face when he clears his throat. 

“Ah, it’s nothing, just… well… every time I look at you, every time you speak,” he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I learn what it’s like to fall in love all over again.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks and stays there. Exhaustion must be lowering his inhibitions, you can’t fathom him saying this otherwise. The sentiment is always there, playing softly in the background, but now it’s at a volume you can’t drown out. You shiver all over. This is a man who’d make an enemy of the world if it meant winning your favor. Such intensity, such raw attachment, bewilders and leaves you unable to form words. 

Seeing the goosebumps on your forearm, he shrugs his wool blazer off and drapes it over your shoulders. His body heat consumes you. 

“And of course I won’t go back on my word — not with you. Some setbacks that we thought were coincidences are occurring too frequently to be written off. The natural conclusion is that there’s a mole somewhere in the upper ranks. This betrayal… or the beginnings of one… resurfaces some memories. I intend to see to it quickly.” 

As he warned, you’re receiving a sanitized version of the events, but it’s enough to dispel your curiosity. You jump on the chance to move past his unexpected confession. The tender words threatened to give new life to emotions that are better off dead. 

“Be as that may, you’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t get enough sleep.” 

“I’ve been taking naps when the time allows.” 

“That isn’t good enough,” you protest. “You might have youth on your side, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work yourself into an early grave. Properly caring for yourself is a part of the job.” 

Giorno seems to find your insistence amusing. He covers a smile with his hand, laughing lightly to himself. It’s during these displays of boyish charm that his many daunting titles melt away. You’re forcefully drawn back into the rose-colored days of your fledgling love, when his true identity remained a secret, and you saw only what he wanted you to see. What you wouldn’t give to rewind time and relive it again. Long walks on the beach with the Tyrrhenian Sea’s mist kissing your cheeks, morning dates at your favorite caffé where you’d tease him for always ordering the same drink… it was paradise in more ways than one. 

Alas, once you’ve been forcefully ejected from the Garden of Eden, the gate to return is shut for eternity. 

When Giorno recomposes himself, he breaks the silence. 

“I’m truly grateful that you haven’t changed.” 

“Hm?” 

You tilt your head. That wistful expression of his punctures your heart, no matter how hard you try to turn the organ to stone. 

“I was prepared for anything. For you to curse me, hate me. I anticipated and accepted the possibility. What I feared most, though, was the thought of you losing what makes you… well, you. It’d be understandable, given the circumstances, but… the warmth you radiate is as strong as ever. I’m glad.” 

Unable to withstand the weight of his gaze, you avert your attention to your lap, head hanging low. 

“That’s a selfish thing to want, considering everything.” 

If it hurts you to say it, you can only imagine how it makes him feel.

He inhales sharply. “I know. I’m plenty selfish when it comes to you.”

This admission takes you aback. Never has he been so forthcoming about his motivation, not without interweaving sugary sentiments to make the sour truth more palatable. There was always a convenient excuse. That your romantic relationship with him puts you in danger, how this arrangement is to ensure your safety, on and on the list of sickeningly sweet platitudes would go. The puzzle pieces he provided never fit properly. 

The word ‘selfish’ completes the otherwise unfinished picture. 

“You were right. Talking to you does help,” Giorno admits. By the way he says it, you’d think you had just magically solved every problem and tied it up in a bow. 

“Honestly, I don’t think I did much of anything.” 

He sighs at that. You could insult him at the top of your lungs and he wouldn’t flinch, but the moment you’re the least bit critical of yourself, he takes it as a personal offense. 

“Not many people are willing to scold me for not taking care of myself. In fact… you might be the only one,” he muses. 

Your heart sinks and you curl your hands into fists. The nails digging into your palm may hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the ache of your soul. For all he knows about you, Giorno Giovanna is almost an enigma, as far as you’re concerned. The most minuscule acts of kindness stuck out to him like glittering treasures. When you made him home-cooked meals, called him to ask about his day, picked up on the changes in his mood; there’d be this aura of reverence about him. 

How must a person grow up to be in awe of what you’ve always considered to be the bare minimum? 

“On the topic of being selfish, there is something else I want.” 

Perhaps in your sentimentality, you’ve been spoiling him too much. 

“What do you— eek!” 

Strong arms secure themselves around your form and pull you in close. Your eyes widen, lips parting to release protests that never form. Giorno’s body may seem lithe, but he has no issues maneuvering your body as if you were a ragdoll. Still, he treats you with the utmost care, rubbing his hands over your back in a soothing motion. You’re certain if you made a fuss, he’d let you go. You can’t find the motivation to do so. The two of you are exhausted, for reasons that differ and overlap. 

While you don’t reciprocate his embrace, you don’t try to wriggle out of it. This is reason enough for him to tighten his grip. 

… Indeed, he is acting rather spoiled. 

“Are you fed up with me?” He asks. 

“I’m slowly getting there.” 

You feel his chest rumble when he chuckles. “Bear with me just a while longer, then.” 

His lips brush over your forehead in a daring kiss. Your muscles go taut and your heart hammers hard enough that you can hear it. He allows himself to linger there a while longer, though he makes no attempts to repeat the act. Instead, he soaks in your presence, each second worth its weight in gold. 

“Giorno?”

He hums, showing you have his rapt attention. 

“About what you said earlier,” there’s a tremble in your voice you can’t hide, owing to the tightness in your throat, “I haven’t ever hated you. I… I don’t think I can.” 

His breath hitches. 

“But… I do know I can’t love you the way I used to either.” 

“Do you want to?”  

“Sometimes.” 

“And that scares you, doesn’t it?” 

“... Yes.” 

Giorno knows you from the inside out. Everything you consist of, from your best to your worst qualities, he’s seen it all. If you ever broke, he could rebuild you again from memory alone. That’s why despite everything, being vulnerable around him comes naturally. Caring about him too, no matter how you try to twist your reasoning to make yourself feel better. Once you’ve given someone your heart, taking it back in its entirety is impossible, some pieces will remain in their possession. 

“It’s alright, no matter what conclusion you arrive at,” he decides. He buries his nose in the crown of your head. “So long as you’re alive and well, I can accept anything.” 

Much to his surprise, you rest your head against his chest, the strength to hold yourself upright steadily draining. He readjusts his hold to ensure you’re as comfortable as you can be. 

“It must be sad, thinking the way you do.” 

From how little a reaction he gives, you almost think he didn’t hear you. 

“A little,” he admits after a thoughtful pause. “Being without you, though… that’d be far, far worse.” 

If reentry to the Garden is denied, then he’ll replicate its beauty to give the impression you never left. 

[diamondwerewolf]

Chatting Some More about AZ

This will be brief, I think... maybe

But I wonder, did AZ happen to plant more than just this tree [ and that flower] while searching for his best friend?

He spent a chunk of his eternal life prior to the events of XY looking for a pokemon that loves and has specific tastes in flowers. Did he travel from region to region, specifically looking for gardens, fields, forests, nurseries?

Floette's general dex blerbs are interesting to me.

Apologize in advance for those with vision problems if this particular screen clip of bulbapedia is difficult to read. There's a lot I can say about the different texts that may add some flavor or context to AZ's story and his previously damaged relationship with her, but I'll focus on this one: "When the flowers of a well-tended flower bed bloom, it appears and celebrates with an elegant dance." The Flabebe line of pokemon, individuals of this species, pick a favorite kind of flower. Perhaps, you'd want to plant as much of that favorite flower as you can, and tend to them well to gain their attention. AZ loves her so deeply I consider Floette his soul mate, so surely, a king such as he, would know how his pokemon's favorite flower is taken care of. I don't doubt he would have ordered a special space made for her where she could indulge, or maybe even tended to a flower bed with her.

I mean...He looks like he's wearing a gardener/carpenter's knee pad or brace. He's tall [ NO SHIT ], so he probably has to lower himself often. But it's a detail about his character design that really sticks out to me. It's just a theory, of course. I'm still not sure of it's purpose.

But... I'm under the assumption that after the end of that terrible war, Eternal Floette's favorite flower went, or 'was' extinct. Did AZ have an unfortunate hand in that? Did his own man-made, mechanical flower, the ultimate weapon, scar the earth so badly that the real flower its power and appearance imitated, could no longer bloom? Dreadfully Ironic. I imagine, [ or I hope] AZ did learn how, where, and when to nurture certain kind of plants to make the most optimal meeting places. Maybe stayed in a region a few decades, left to live in and survey another, and then returned to check on previously started gardens after they had some time to establish. It makes sense to me that he would try to 'lure' her in somewhere. Or give her places where she could comfortably appear.

Maybe working on bringing some life to the world also assuaged some of his immense guilt.

ALSO.

I wonder how difficult it was to acquire blubs/seeds of her favorite flower to experiment with? Or did he already have them in hand, but could never manage to get them to grow anywhere until recenly.

...

Did AZ fuck up the previous condition of the Kalos' region's soil? Seems it recovered, it's plenty green again now, but it'll probably never be the same as it was. Side Note: Again from Floette's dex text: "It gives its own power to flowers, pouring its heart into caring for them. Floette never forgives anyone who messes up a flower bed." Her disgust with him over the ruin and theft of life is more than reasonable. But secondary to that, metaphorically, I think AZ messed up one really big flower bed.

okay sorry this wasn't brief i'm unfortunately in love with him

[ms-demeanor]

I appreciate your calm-the-fuck-down post a lot, ngl - from following you, I've seen you have a pretty good handle on understanding what ToS does and doesn't say, and are good at explaining the difference - and I was hoping you could give some insight on whether or not the actually clicking the 'I agree to terms of service' button (note: multi-step process) required to turn off the New! flag makes a difference in the level of data collected - I would expect at the very least it would act as a gateway for whether or not user data is shared with the third party integration, but legalese isn't my field of study.

Agreeing to the ToS to get the little notification thing to turn off would allow tumblr live to share the data that it collects with 3rd party apps and would allow tumblr live to collect location data from your device whether or not you are actively using the app; whether you want to do this is up to you. I do generally recommend having location tracking shut off at a device level, which makes this data collection pretty useless, but I recognize that most people don't have location tracking turned off on their phones.

*HOWEVER*

People are talking about doing this to turn off the New! flag (which IS very annoying) but the most recent post from @changes makes it clear that that is an ongoing bug they are working on; Tumblr has been pretty decent recently about following up on the info they post about on the changes blog and I see no reason to believe that they won't get that bug fixed pretty quickly.

Rather than agree to the ToS I would suggest waiting a few days because I very much doubt that will stick around for long.

And this is not directed at you but I want to use this ask to point to another recent example of tumblr conspiracism: people are seeing the "new" flag as tumblr attempting to force users to agree to the live ToS even as they have offered a longer snooze period and saying that one negates the other - this is being interpreted as malice and a dark pattern and user hostile design.

And I just want to remind people that some time between eight months and a year and a half ago the notifications changed and it was briefly impossible to clear the new flag on the notification button - this is an issue that we've seen tumblr have before with "new" flags after they changed a feature. It's something that people yelled about and sent around guides for blocking the element. It's something that was addressed quickly and was done unintentionally.

I really wish people would stop attributing to malice the bullshit that happens at tumblr that is clearly the result of this website being hilariously broken and held together with hope and chewing gum.

There are ways in which this site is broken that does genuine harm and I'm willing to be cautiously optimistic that the new staff crew is taking steps to fix it (this is about blocked tags; I've been following what various staff members say about this and I have seen small positive steps, staff does seem to be making an effort to unfuck the tags and I can respect that while still being frustrated that it's taking so long). It isn't *good* that the site is held together with chewing gum and hope but it does seem like staff is at least trying to add some popsicle sticks and duct tape to that mix.

The new flag is annoying and I hope they get it fixed quickly and I believe they actually will get it fixed quickly; if you're really bothered by it there's not much harm in accepting the live ToS because the data collected by tumblr live is still pretty minimal compared to most other social media apps, but from a paranoid "fuck all this bullshit" perspective accepting the Live TOS doesn't do much harm at all if you have location data off on your devices (which I think everyone should) and use adblockers (which I think everyone should).

[arcane-vagabond]

Will You Be My Boo?

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend invites you over for a little pumpkin carving competition.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Competition, Bradley Bradshaw.

Word Count: 1,381

A/N: Alright! My first one-shot! I know it's a bit on the short side, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless! I'd love to start doing more of these (and hopefully make them longer as we move forward), but for now, I have a couple more planned and then we'll see what happens! My inbox and requests are always open, so feel free to shoot me a message! As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated! If you like my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Masterlist

You giggled as your boyfriend pulled you into his apartment. You took note of the large, plastic tarp that was draped across his living room floor. The furniture was pushed off to the side to make room, and two, large pumpkins sat on opposite ends of the tarp surrounded by various carving tools.

“What’s all this, bubba?” You asked him, turning to look up at him. Bradley smirked down at you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

“Thought we could have some fun carving pumpkins,” he mumbled against your lips. You hummed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Bradley slid his hands down your sides, resting them on your rear, squeezing gently. You gasped into the kiss, allowing Bradley to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking at you eagerly. Your fingers ran through his chestnut locks, pulling lightly, and Bradley groaned, breaking the kiss to look at you. His cheeks were red, lips swollen from the kiss. After three years of dating, you still got butterflies from seeing him like this.

“I asked you to come over for a reason,” he scowled at you.

“You’re the one who kissed me,” you teased. Bradley placed a small slap to your ass, earning a squeak as he pulled away. He chuckled, pulling you further into his apartment and onto the tarp.

“What’s the plan, Stan?” You asked him, earning a look which made you let out another giggle. He rolled his eyes, but smiled softly as he looked at you.

“Jake told me about this trend going around,” he started. Your brow shot up.

“Since when do you listen to Jake?” You laughed. He scowled at you, gesturing for you to sit down on the ground. You did so, crossing your legs.

“So, he told me about this trend,” Bradley continued, “where people compete to see who can carve the best pumpkin.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “How does it work?”

“We’re going to sit here, facing away from each other, and we can’t look at what the other is carving until we’re both finished.”

“I don’t know, babe,” you smirked. “I’ve carved a lot of pumpkins. How many have you carved?”

“I’ve carved plenty of pumpkins,” he scoffed at you, and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you carve one.”

“Is this you saying you’re too scared that I’ll win?” He teased, a grin on his lips. It was your turn to scoff.

“You wish, Bradshaw,” you chuckled, moving to turn around to face your pumpkin. “I’m so winning this competition.”

“Yeah, we’ll just see about that,” Bradley smirked, turning to face his own pumpkin. “Remember, no peaking! I don’t need you cheating off of me.”

“I think that’s my line, Bubs.”

About forty-five minutes later, you were staring proudly at your simple, but classic, design. The pumpkin stared back at you with its toothy grin, and you were all but assured in your victory. Bradley could barely draw a stick figure, so you weren’t sure what possessed him to think that he would win a pumpkin carving contest against you. You cast a sly glance over your shoulder, eyeing the expanse of your boyfriend’s broad back. You smiled gently, hoping with everything in you that you would get to see it for the rest of your life.

It was no secret that you and Bradley were madly in love, and you had known early on into the relationship that he was it for you. Bradley made no secrets about feeling the same, but whenever someone asked when he would pop that most important question, he would shrug, a lazy smile on his face as he said, “we don’t want to rush things. We’re happy with how things are, right, babe?”

And you were, for the most part. But you couldn’t help but wish for the day you would get to wear a beautiful, white dress as you walked down the aisle to pledge the rest of your life to the man at your side.

Bradley peeked over his shoulder at you, and you quickly turned around, trying to hide your smirk at having been caught.

“I thought I said no peeking?” He rasped, his breath fanning over your cheek. You opened your mouth to respond, but let out a squawk as you felt the slimy entrails from his pumpkin hit your cheek. You turned to give an incredulous look to your boyfriend who was already watching you with a shit eating grin.

“Bradley Bradshaw, you did not-”

He raised his hand to smear another glob of pumpkin guts onto your other cheek, laughing as you fought between the need to laugh and the need to strangle him. Bradley let out a giggle at the sight of you, one that melted into a gasp as you took your own handful of pumpkin and smeared it across his face.

“Oh, now you’re in for it!” He laughed, scooping up even more entrails as he moved to stand. You shrieked as you attempted to dodge him, scrambling to your feet in the process.

“Bradley, no!” You hollered through fits of laughter. Bradley wrestled you to the ground, smearing the entrails on your face and hair. When you thought you would pass out from lack of oxygen due to all of your laughter, Bradley pulled back, inspecting his work. You were sure you looked a mess, feeling all of the pumpkin guts sticking to your skin and matting your hair. He gazed down at you softly as you fought to breathe through your giggles.

Bradley leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving to your cheeks and finally placing one on your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured. You felt heat rise to your face, and you placed a hand to his cheeks.

“I love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. The two of you stared at one another for a moment before you moved to stand. Bradley pulled away to allow you space, offering you his hand as you both stood. You took it with a grateful smile, looking over to where his pumpkin sat.

“Alright,” you smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Let’s see who won this thing.”

Bradley chuckled, gesturing for you to go and take a look. You took the few steps around him, peering down at the gourd. Etched clumsily into the outside were the words “will you be my boo?” You giggled at the pun, and wondered where your boyfriend even came up with it. Bradley wasn’t the most creative, but what he lacked in imagination, he certainly made up for in effort. It was one of the many things you admired about him.

“I dunno, babe,” you smiled, turning around to face him. “I think I won the-”

You sucked in a breath of air at the sight before you. Bradley was kneeling down on one knee, a ring in his hands. The ring was simple, but beautiful, and you felt the tears in your eyes before you could stop them.

“Y/n,” Bradley rasped, his own tears gathering on his lash line. “You are without a doubt, the most beautiful, smart, amazing woman I have ever met. I don’t know how I managed to get you to agree to become my girlfriend all those years ago, but now I’m hoping I can somehow convince you to become my wife instead. I love you so, so much it hurts. Will you marry me?”

A sob tore its way from your throat as you nodded vigorously, reaching out for him. Bradley stood up, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. This is where you belonged. You knew because you fit perfectly in his arms, and you never wanted to leave.

“Yes, Bradley,” you sniffled, looking up at him. “A thousand times yes.”

Bradley grinned down at you so widely you were sure his cheeks hurt. He slipped the ring onto your finger and leaned down to place a passionate kiss to your lips, one you returned with vigor.

“It’s not much,” he said, pulling away to look down at where the ring rested on your finger, stroking over it gently. “But, I hope it’s enough.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you sighed, leaning your head against his chest. “It’s perfect in every way.”

Tag List: @haley-hotchner @fanficfandomlove @goldenseresinretriever @hopip99 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @moon42flight @kmc1989 @rhettsluvr @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61