#i also feel like it makes the rest of the colors in my recent pieces pop more which i'm happy about

[flowerakatsuka]

i'm glad that getting back into osmt and drawing in the show's style made me realize i could get a little silly with the colors i use for my lineart, i'm having a lot of fun playing with that in my recent stuff.

[akanemnon]

Last question before I once again leave you to rest and recuperate for the rest of the hiatus.

Do you know color theory by any chance?

(And if so, can you teach me some techniques…? /nf)

Your most recently posted piece is so amazing that I can’t even put it into words. It’s cool how you can switch between styles like that. However, I hope you’re taking of yourself in the process!

If there’s anything to learn from the anon attacks, it’s that even though some people unfortunately don’t see it, being an online influencer of any sort is more of a sacrifice than it looks, and it can the tiring to the creator when others don’t understand. Im not half as popular as you are and I too am starting to feel the effects of posting almost everyday for the sake of the fans.

You’re probably the first online artist I’ve been a BIG FAN of. Not just because of your AU, but because now I’m know I’m not the only easily anxious artist out there. You’ve really inspired me, and lots of other people too, but to keep up the good work, you have to make sure you’re also okay.

Take care!

- The Kogetai Kiddo.

I know some color theory in terms of creating designs. For painting, not so much. It's a pretty complicated subject to explain, so that might take quite a bit to get into...

And no worries, I am taking care of myself and take plenty of breaks in between when I'm getting too frustrated. As for the style thing; I like to try different things once in a while to prevent stagnation. I can switch between styles thanks to practice, but changing mediums does take some getting used to. Digital painting is not exactly something I'm that good at because I don't do it that often. It takes a lot of time and energy. But it's a good challenge.

Honestly, I don't want to be titled as an "influencer" or "content creator". I'm just some person who likes sharing their work and comics that people seem to like them a lot. I'm no authority figure and I don't like seeing myself as something greater than others just because of some numbers. Numbers don't mean anything. It's the person that matters. I just wanna make art, and if it happens to make people happy, I'm happy too. Still anxiety and internal pressure can make things hard. There IS that underlying feeling of having to perform and do well. Because those are your own standards. In the end, you are your own worst critic. Anxiety is the worst, and it's an endless struggle against it. But it's possible to live with it. At some point, taking a step back and realizing you need a break is the right call.

Hoping the best for you and all the other anxious artists out there!

And with that'll be off on my last few days of break. Asks are closed now. See you back on Sunday!

(Little teaser from the next page for good measure)

[benevolentbones]

I have an idea for an angst/fluff. Bare with me because this is my first request. Spencer notices reader has small reactions to yelling, slamming doors, stomping, etc. Maybe it’s from arguing parents as a child or they got a bit of trauma on a case and had been hiding it from the team (maybe both. Like arguing parents and then a traumatic experience brought it all back up). She hid her anxieties from the team because she knows she’s safe with them and is slightly embarrassed by the reactions. Spencer only noticed because he pays such close attention to her (he’s got a crush!) and starts doing things to help reader. Like changing the subject when an argument is coming on, distracting them after someone slams a door, etc. I’m not a writer so i have no idea how to end this. Thx 💓

silent support | spencer reid x reader

warnings: brief mentions of bad childhood. spencer fluff! gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy<3 reblogs n comments n requests always appreciated

spencer reid wasn't the kind of man to overlook details. his job demanded meticulous observation, and he'd long since developed a knack for noticing things others missed. this skill, however, extended beyond crime scenes and into his everyday interactions, particularly where you were concerned.

you had joined the bau team almost a year ago, and from the very beginning, spencer had found himself drawn to you. he admired your dedication, your intellect, and your ability to connect with victims and suspects alike— and of course he thought you were the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on. but recently, he began noticing something else about you—small, subtle reactions to loud noises and arguments.

it started one evening in the bullpen. hotch and morgan were in a heated debate about a case direction, voices rising steadily. you sat at your desk, seemingly focused on your work, but spencer saw the way your shoulders tensed at each raised voice. when morgan slammed a file down in frustration, your hand jerked slightly, knocking over your coffee cup.

spencer's eyes narrowed as he took in your quick, shaky breath and the way you forced a smile when jj handed you a napkin. the pieces of a puzzle began to form in his mind. he had read your file—he probably shouldn’t have but—he knew about your difficult childhood, the endless nights spent listening to your parents argue, the fear that came with every slammed door. and he suspected there was more, something you hadn't shared with anyone on the team.

his suspicions were confirmed over the next few weeks. during a particularly rough case in phoenix, a suspect's sudden outburst caused you to flinch noticeably. you recovered quickly, laughing it off, an embarrassed blush covering your features, but spencer didn't miss the way your hands trembled slightly as you continued with your questioning.

he wanted to say something, to let you know he understood and was there for you, but he also knew how embarrassed that might make you feel. so instead, he began to find small ways to ease your anxieties.

when arguments started brewing in the office, he would subtly steer the conversation in a different direction, diffusing the tension before it could escalate. if someone slammed a door, he would immediately engage you in conversation, pulling your focus away from the noise. these actions were small, almost imperceptible to the rest of the team, but he hoped they made a difference to you.

one particularly tough case in chicago brought everything to a head. you had just finished interviewing a suspect who had a penchant for yelling, and spencer saw the strain in your eyes as you walked back to your desk. garcia was arguing with an it technician about a software glitch, her voice raised in frustration. when she slammed her laptop shut, you visibly jumped, the color draining from your face.

before you could retreat into yourself, spencer was there, standing beside you with a gentle smile. "hey," he said softly, "did you know that the world's largest snowflake on record was 15 inches wide?"

you blinked at him, momentarily distracted from the chaos around you. "really?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

he nodded, his smile widening. "yeah, it was found in fort keogh, montana, in 1887. pretty fascinating, right?"

you managed a small smile in return, the tension in your shoulders easing. "that is pretty interesting, spencer….thanks."

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "just thought you might like to know."

over the next few days, spencer continued his quiet campaign to help you. he found ways to be near you whenever the atmosphere in the office grew tense, offering bits of trivia or starting conversations to distract you. you noticed his efforts, of course, and though you were slightly embarrassed by your reactions, you were also deeply grateful.

one evening, after the team had wrapped up a particularly grueling case, you found yourself alone with spencer in the conference room. the rest of the team had gone home, but you were both still reading over files, trying to wrap up loose ends.

"spencer?” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, "can i ask you something?"

he looked up from his file, his expression attentive as he studied your form. "of course."

you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "i've noticed... you've been going out of your way to help me lately. distracting me when things get tense. why?"

spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he pushed his hair back nervously. "i... i noticed that loud noises and arguments seem to bother you. i know you had a tough childhood, and i figured maybe it was bringing up some old anxieties. i just wanted to help..."

your heart swelled with gratitude, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "thank you, spencer. it means a lot to me. i... i haven't really talked about it, but you're right. —there was something that happened on a case a while back that... well, it just made everything worse." you chewed on your lip, meeting his gaze.

spencer reached out, his hand covering yours. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but just know that i'm here for you. i promise.”

you squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of comfort and safety wash over you. "thank you, spencer. it helps more than you know."

in that moment, surrounded by files and the remnants of a long day's work, you realized just how much spencer reid meant to you. he wasn't just a colleague or a friend—he was someone who truly cared, who saw your vulnerabilities and accepted them without judgment.

the days following that conversation were transformative for you. knowing that spencer understood your struggles and cared enough to help made a world of difference. you found yourself growing less anxious about your reactions. spencer's quiet support gave you the strength to face your fears head-on.

one evening, after a particularly stressful case, the team decided to unwind at a local bar. laughter and conversation filled the air, but you couldn't shake the lingering tension from the day. as you sat nursing your drink, you watched the interactions around you. hotch and rossi were deep in conversation, garcia and jj were dancing to the jukebox, and morgan was charming a group of women nearby.

spencer slid into the seat next to you, a gentle smile on his face. "you okay?" he asked softly.

you nodded, though you knew he could see the truth in your eyes. "just a lot on my mind."

he studied you for a moment before speaking. "want to take a walk?"

grateful for the escape, you agreed. the two of you slipped out of the bar and into the cool night air. the streets were quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic.

eventually, you found yourselves at a small park. you sat on a bench, the silence between you comfortable and reassuring. spencer looked at you, his expression earnest.

"you know," he began, "i've been doing a lot of thinking about what you told me. about your past and what you’ve experienced. and i just want you to know that it's okay to feel the way you do. there's no shame in it."

you looked down at your hands, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief. "it's just... i thought i had it all under control, you know? but then things happen, and it all comes flooding back. i feel weak."

spencer's hand found yours, his touch gentle and reassuring. "you're not weak. you're incredibly strong. you've been through so much, and you're still here.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not wanting to cry. "you always know the right thing to say."

he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that made your heart ache. "i'm just glad i can be here for you. you mean a lot to me, you know."

your breath hitched slightly at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "you mean a lot to me too. more than you know."

spencer's eyes softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "i'm here for you. always."

spencer’s eyes flickered over your features, the harsh street lights casting a soft glow over you, taking in how beautiful he found you.

you took a deep breath. "there's something else i need to tell you. something i've been feeling for a while now."

he looked at you, his features softened, the warm light catching pieces of his dark hair causing them to almost look golden. "what is it?"

"i... i think i'm falling for you.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "you've been so caring and kind to me...more than anyone in my life."

a look of pure, unfiltered joy spread across spencer's face, and he squeezed your hand. "from the moment you joined the team, there's been something about you that drew me in. and the more i got to know you- the more i fell for you..”

relief and happiness flooded through you, and you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss. it was a moment of pure connection, a promise of support and love.

as you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips. "thank you. for everything."

he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes shining with affection. "no, thank you. for trusting me, for letting me in. i wouldn't have it any other way."

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

[pinkthrone445]

-"You are my miracle"-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Soft, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:The kids decide to put together a fake wedding for you and your girlfriend Melissa on Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone, sorry for not writing something longer, but I thought the day deserved something sweet and cute.

Six months, six months it took Mel to get to know you completely and open up to you. It took her a year to finally accept that you were girlfriends. Six more months to move in together. And it took her just a minute at the right time to realize that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with you.

Melissa Schemmenti was a determined woman, she had tried a lot of things and she knew what she wanted and what she liked and what she didn't. Marriage was something she had tried before and she was pretty sure she didn't want to go through it again. That's why a couple of years ago she had broken up with Gary, she knew what she wanted to and he wasn't going to convince her of changing her mind.

A year after that, you arrived at school, a new transfer teacher, a new energy in the place, and a new love in the redhead's life. You came like a typhoon, dragging everything in your path, including her heart.

The redhead didn't expect to fall in love, she didn't want to, but it happened, it happened so fast that she didn't even notice it until you were already oficial girlfriends.

Mel felt something with you that she hadn't felt in a long time, comfort. Love is not about who turns your life upside down, love makes you feel comfortable, happy and at peace, and that's exactly how she felt with you. You never demanded more than she gave you, you respected the limits she had, you were sure and determined about what you wanted, you didn't let yourself be managed by others, you were perfect for her.

There were a lot of things that you and Mel had talked about from the beginning, not to marriage, but yes to children and moving in together, no to mommy king yes to costumes and role play, and a lot of stuff more. You wanted to get married but she didn't, so you adapted. She moved in with you even though she loved her home, compromising her part. Love was to give the best of both parts and that's what you did, neither of you gave 50-50, yours was to give one hundred percent each other.

This was the third Valentine's Day you spent together, you usually didn't do many things for that special day, you went home and did a movie marathon with your favorite snacks, but this day, something at school changed everything.

Mel taught a grade of third-graders, you taught second-graders, when kids are that young, their curiosity is through the roof, each thing they learned generated more questions and more curiosity, they wanted to know and experience everything that was possible as quickly as possible. They had recently found out what Valentine's Day meant, they had also found out that you and Mel were a couple, which made their imagination work and somehow convinced you and Mel to do a fake Valentine's Day wedding in the school gym.

The children planned everything and handed out invitations. Along with the art teachers, they had prepared dresses for you and decorated the gymnasium, with Gregory they grew flowers for the bouquet and with Barbara they chose songs to dance the waltz, they even chose bridesmaids and groomsmen.

You never thought you'd be nervous about a fake wedding, but this touched on something you'd kept deep inside. Seeing yourself in the mirror with that fake dress made of toilet paper and colored cutouts, made you think about what a real wedding with Mel would be like, you knew it was never going to happen and you would never insist on it, but it was nice to dream. Life with Melissa was perfect and you wouldn't risk it by insisting on something like that. Having her in your life was enough and nothing would get better than that, not even a piece of paper saying you were married. Right?

You sighed looking in the mirror while one of the teachers combed your hair

-"Everything fine?" - She asked and you nodded looking at the votes youe kids helped you write

-"Yes..."-You smiled and let her continue to comb your hair.

One of the little kids dressed very elegantly came to pick you up a few minutes later informing you that everything was ready at the gym. You carefully grabbed your bouquet and smiled at the sight of Gregory waiting for you outside in a smart suit made of cardstock.

When you got to the Gym Gates you sighed trying to ease your nerves, if this was just joking, why did you feel so nervous? None of this was real, once they finished all this theater, Melissa would still be your girlfriend and everything would be normal as before.

Gregory smiled and started walking down the aisle when the doors opened, the whole school was there, the children sitting neatly next to their teachers, the walls decorated in white, soft music in the background and at the end of the road, Melissa in a dress also made of paper, which made you laugh. Arriving at her side, Gregory handed her your hand and then took her corresponding place next to you, while next to Mel was Barbara. Mel stroked your hands gently and looked at your dress smiling as the officiant, Mr. Johnson, introduced the ceremony

-"You look beautiful... Is that designer's?" - she joked and you nodded laughing

-"Yes, The most experienced in the business, he has almost all his life of experience to show" - You joked laughing and Mel kissed your hand leaving a kiss marked with her red lipstick. Mel's hands were also sweating a little, was she nervous too?

After a while, they gave you time to read the vows you with the kids had prepared, after clearing your throat, you started reading the notes

-"Melissa... You make me happy like when I eat my favorite candy, you are beautiful like the cutest dog on the planet, I like how you smell like flowers, seeing you makes me as happy as when I found out that it was a snow day and I don't have to come to school and I can continue sleeping. Listening to you talk makes me want to dance with happiness like when I listen to baby shark...I wish I could spend my life with you almost as much as I wish I had the last dancing barbie doll. I will take care of you and I will always be ready to kiss your boboos when you fall playing in the park, I love you so much that I will lend you my favorite toys and give you part of my lunch. I promise to be well-behaved and not to fart in front of you and also chew with my mouth closed and brush my teeth before giving you a kiss on the cheek, I promise to do all that because I love you so much like I love my mom."-You finished reading the vows that the children gave you laughing, but when you looked up Melissa looked at you seriously which made you scared. Maybe this was too much, maybe Mel had regretted making this joke for the kids, maybe she was angry or uncomfortable. Before you could continue to overthink, the redhead put away the vows she had made with her students and sighed taking your hands and kneeling in front of you taking out the small paper ring she had in her pocket, you looked at her confused

-"(Y/N)... Will you be my wife" - Mel asked and you laughed watching her

-"Babe, that's why we are here at the altar... We are getting married..."-You whispered trying to goad her up but she didn't

-"I'm being serious... Would you marry me for real?" -she insisted again and you frowned

-"I don't understand" - You whispered and she smiled looking into your eyes

-"I said one time that would take a miracle to marry again... And you are my miracle... Seeing you like this makes me understand how lucky I am. You're the most gorgeous woman I know, you came into my life to improve it in every way, I know that I am not an easy person to get along with and you adapted to every part of my being, as if we were a complement to each other. The patience you have for me and the happiness you bring me is incomparable, I want to feel that every day for the rest of my days. I don't want to lose you just because I was afraid of getting hurt again or because I was a coward that didn't wanted to take the step and really commit to this relationship. I want you to be by my side like my wife for the rest of my days... What do you say? Would you marry me?"-she whispered smiling, the whole gym had fallen silent waiting for your answer, so quiet that you could hear your heavy breathing and your heartbeat. Mel was shocked when you knelt down in front of her to kiss her while you cried

-"I do! I wanna marry you" - You whispered over her lips making her smile and she carefully placed the paper ring on you

-"I'll get a better ring, I promise" - She whispered and you laughed kissing her again

-"This is perfect..."-You muttered, unable to help but grin from ear to ear

-"I think our vows were better than what she said..." - One of the kids commented out loud, making you laugh as the whole school applauded happy for you two .

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Random Messages You May Need 🌈🎆⛅

Sup, y'all. I'm finally back for another pick a card reading. I really apologize if folks have not heard from me over the past month, I meant to get this reading (among other things) out a while ago. I have not been able to touch tarot for the past few weeks. Life has been… topsy turvy, to say the least. Heh heh. [sweating profusely]

I meant to have another game out and to have paid readings available by now--that is still part of the plan. What was meant for June will be in July. So this blog might go from 0 to 100 mph real soon, to move along with plans as intended!

I was loosely inspired by the Baker pride flag from 1978 for this group selection. These piles are pretty nondescript: each one contains a random message that may resonate with you. Pick based on whichever color of the Prism Oracle speaks to you most, and feel free to choose more than one. Take only what resonates.

Pile 1 - Strength (Red) Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange) Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow) Pile 4 - Movement (Green) Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise) Pile 6 - Trust (Blue) Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet) Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

Pile 1 - Strength (Red)

10 of Swords, Insight

You've been asked by the universe to put up with a lot, especially recently. You're reaching a finish line of a very long and brutal marathon. There have been too many times where you questioned whether or not to throw in the towel. If you have, you may also have questioned whether or not it was the correct choice. Sometimes, things don't work out, and it's better to move on. It can be difficult to hold everything up when one thing after another seems to fall apart at the seams, but either way you're being reminded of the light at the end of this long and turbulent tunnel.

Collect yourself, pick up what pieces you can. Time has shifted everything, but the essentials still stand. Gather the wisdom you have learned from this ordeal. There is still beauty to be found in the decay, glittering gems in the rough.

Maybe you don't want to get stronger. Healing may feel like a better option than grinding for difficult experience points. Give yourself the rest and repair you need. Let go of only that which is keeping you from starting again, but you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. You've gained so much wisdom and strength, this trial wasn't without gain. Treasure it and begin anew.

Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange)

2 of Swords, Clarity

Whatever answers you seek are coming to you. Or perhaps they've already arrived; open your eyes and see for yourself. You may be wondering which path will satisfy you more. The process of reconciling this could take forever unless you lean on your gut here. This can't be decided based on intellect alone, for you could get stuck mulling it over for days. Imagining all the different possible outcomes could be taxing for your brain, so narrow it down. Eliminate the weakest links and home in on what excites you. It should feel like an "aha, yes!"

If you cannot see the answer right away, go within to the realm of imagination. Feel your way through. Visualize not just with sight but with yearning. Does the light of the sun make you feel hopeful? Does the cool rain make you feel relaxed? Would an art class expand your capacity to imagine many things, or would taking a science class?

The X mark in 2 of Swords is like a railroad crossing sign. Redirect that train of thought into brighter and more positive avenues of expression. Say "what if" as if you can't wait for something to happen. "What if I saw a shooting star tonight? What if my cute neighbor asked me out?" Let the future shine its beacon for you. It will all make sense in due time.

Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow)

Ace of Cups, Reconciliation

Have you been staying up way too late trying to figure everything out? Please give yourself a brain curfew: no problem solving or saving the day after 10 pm! I'm getting that you may tend to ruminate on the same strong emotions. For some I'm getting that there is a crush here. There's inconsistent text messaging. I know it's easy to get too nervous about their reply, but try to wait until at least the next day to hear back. They may need time to formulate their words right. They may not even see your message straight away. Take it all in stride and sleep on it; if they want to reach out to you, then they eventually will.

For others in this pile, you may be going through a rough patch with another person right now and could be wondering how things will pan out. Give them time to respond, they could still be processing it. Stay on the more positive end of things with the idea that things will work themselves out. I feel like if you can manage this in a relaxed and non hurried way, the knot will untangle easily. The coffee in the Ace of Cups is very hot, so give it a chance to cool.

There is opportunity in your near future to make up for something that went awry due to a miscommunication error. You may get a chance to make up for a test, appointment, or an interview. You will receive grace for any mishaps. Remember that tomorrow won't necessarily be the same as today, so cherish both the good you have now along with the good that soon awaits you.

Pile 4 - Movement (Green)

IX Hermit, Devotion

Looks like things are progressing faster than you even thought they would. You may be blinking your eyes in partial disbelief: could this ball really be rolling? Indeed, thanks to your efforts, goals are being met and results are more evident by the day. You eschewed a lot of distractions to make this work, so give yourself a pat on the back for the level of commitment you put into it. Some of you in this pile may have just graduated, if so then congratulations! But try not to get too comfortable with your laurels, for you have a long road ahead of you in whatever you do next. This one completion is the start of many.

Does that thrill you? If so, wonderful! On the other hand, some of you may be feeling uncertain about continuing. You may be reviewing your options to see if this really is worth pursuing. Something that requires a lot of dedication and focus on it to the exclusion of all else… yeah, I can see how that can get tiring after a long time. There are folks who can get their Master's right after their Bachelor's, or have another child right after the first, but people can also happily move on to what feels more right for them instead.

It's okay to stop and assess your tracks if necessary. Taking time off is not the same as quitting. It's not losing motivation, it's recovering it. This is your passion and your discipline, not anyone else's. If you need to give other parts of your life more room to breathe, then do so with the confidence that your great work will wait for you.

Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise)

4 of Wands, Hospitality

Have you been stuck with something for a while? There's a strong sense of a blockage that is being eroded away over time. This process can be sped up by allowing the ice to thaw a little more. "Break the ice." You may be wanting to open up and spend more quality time with other people but don't know how. Or you could be faced with meeting new people and being nervous about interacting with them. Even more so if they're roommates. A few people in this pile could be moving or have just moved. This is a chance to ease up and get to know new people.

This blockage could be a result of the past and of anxiety. The sound of a turning doorknob just jumpscared me as I typed the last sentence. You may benefit from learning about social anxiety and how to manage it. It's not an overnight job for you to fix this, though, but to just be aware of it and not allow it to get in the way of positive change in your life.

If you're struggling to figure out how to deal with meeting new people, I would suggest looking up videos or how-tos on social interaction, especially if a certain etiquette is required for an event. Learn about conversation starters and fun things you could do together like hosting a game night. Practice makes perfect, and over time the blockage will melt into the stream.

Pile 6 - Trust (Blue)

3 of Swords, Conversion

You have a very soft and tender outlook on life, which makes it all the more painful when reality doesn't conform to such a compassionate vision. It doesn't always try to respond to vulnerability in appropriate ways. Much of the time, this isn't from natural events as much as it stems from the ways in which people can treat one another cruelly. You've had some toxic people in your life who have put you through the wringer and attempted to squeeze every ounce of kindness they could from you. Making light of this pain to them only resulted in further deflection and antagonism on their part. The only outcome was to salvage whatever you could and pray for the best.

It is not your job to change their closed minded perspectives. They're on their own, here. Do not concern yourself with their messy inner world and lose any more of your energy. Also, do not attempt to regain what energy has been lost through bargaining either, as much as it hurts to press onward without looking back. You will recover, but you have to move on first and prioritize what you deeply care about most (you included).

There will come a time when your heart will be healed so you can see the brighter side of human connection again. All the beauty that your gentle soul is seeking is still there, shrouded by layers of protective petals that will one day bloom again and your life will truly flourish. For now, this is a time to give yourself all the comfort you can.

Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet)

XII Hanged Man, Spring

I get the feeling that you've been waiting quite a while for some good results to come in. This could either be from something that you started back in the spring, or are waiting to see results which may come around springtime. It is a season of flowers, so you may be waiting for this thing to blossom--that is, to be fully presentable to the public in some way. To have something to show for the time you put in. Like "hey, this is what I've been working on, this came from the seeds I planted." It could be growing in a direction unlike what you're used to, leaving you wondering how it could succeed in such unusual and burdensome conditions.

Lean on your inner guidance when it comes to the right timing. I don't believe that you're currently in a space where you need to push so hard for the best results. You can let things move at their own pace. Over tending to anything can end up in just as much trouble as neglect. There's only so much you can do before you have to let the flower do the growing and blooming for itself.

It's not always easy to sit in the place of uncertainty with the idea that doing more will provide more. But sometimes less is more. What you're creating is coming to fruition and may even turn out better than you expected. Trust in both the knowledge you've earned over time from learning lessons, as well as your natural intuition, to help you decide when it's time to take action.

Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

7 of Swords, Gossip

Let your heart lead the way here, not your worries over what others will think. Sure, you may end up with some people talking about you, but opportunities will keep passing by if you wait for everyone else to catch up to you. Leaning too much on everyone else's perspectives will only distort the vision you have for your own life journey. We all have unique journeys to go on, but unconditional kindness remains at the center of the Love card, the one thing that brings us together. Following life from a heart centered place may result in having others glance over and whisper, but that shouldn't distract you.

There is a rather delicate message here about dealing with friendships, colleagues, or possibly even family. You may have a tricky situation between several other people right now who have beef not with you but with each other. They may be coming to you to air their grievances and ask for advice.

If you care about both of these people, then it's best to approach this issue as diplomatically and impartially as possible and avoid feeding into the conflict. What would an enlightened mindset do in this situation? How would you want the other person to behave if they were in your shoes? Come from a place of pure compassion. They may choose to make amends or not, it's up to them. If their butting heads is bringing you down, it's always okay to step back and take a break. You are not responsible for what's going on in their heart, only your own, so protect yours well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[kittenmittenmeowchu]

Overdo

Kafka accidentally breaks your family jade.

and you slapped her.

ughh please help this is my first written fanfic diashudhw

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Gripping on your waist Kafka thrusts her hips against yours, sounds of skin slapping mixed with the plastic strap squeching in your pussy, your moans bouncing off walls vulgar noises syncing with the scrapping table legs on the floor.

Sticky liquid drips off your thighs, splattering when she thrusts again, you we're practically a drooling mess, back on the table and legs around her hips, voice hoarse from moaning since the moon lowered for the Sun.

You started on the bed, then in the bathroom, and again in the kitchen. It wasn't long before she decides to get back in bed after hearing you whine about your back hurting.

So she lifts you up, arms around her neck, legs trapped to her hips, walking on the way there you whimper from the silicon dick still buried inside. She teases you and somehow your reaction made her fuck you on the way there, ending up to push you against some cabinet, making the cabinet shook it drops a little jade from the very top.

Shattered on the ground, you both stare at the broken pieces.

"...ah"

"..."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

After putting on some clothes Kafka quickly called Silver wolf and made her fix the jade in exchange of helping Silver wolf steal―buy a game she wanted two weeks prior. Silver wolf was excited but dumbfounded.. its not normal for Kafka to do this.. though perhaps it may also be because she noticed the a clear handprint mark on Kafka's cheek, tinted to a rosy color.

You took a shower as they talked things out, when silver wolf left you were on Kafka's bed, hugging one of her pillows and burying your face to where her scent was strongest. Slowly you succumb to the feeling of exhaustion resting your eyes and falling into deep slumber... Forgetting about the recent events, i mean it's not like you didn't get your revenge..

[wayfayrr]

Hello! I love the self-aware stuff you’re doing for the links. Love that stuff.

Now don’t feel compelled to write anything about this. I just think it’s funny to think about :)

My switch has been acting kinda weird recently. Not broken or anything too major. But a corner of the the touchscreen is coming off, a very small part. Pretty sure it’s because of the heat and the glue or something? Anyway, it’s also been glitching sometimes. Colored lines will go across the screen in handheld mode. (Truthfully it’s sometimes annoying, but it’s kinda old so go figures it’s gonna start acting weird)

But could you imagine with the links??? Like they start realizing that the console is malfunctioning, or a piece of the screen is breaking? I can see them being like, “YES YES, PROGRESS!!!”

Idk it’s just funny to think about sometimes

(Again don’t feel compelled to write anything. Wanted to give a fun little thought I had :])

I mean if the switch is breaking when they're ready then they're going to be ECSTATIC - if it's already breaking then surely you won't be as bothered when they hop out and finish it off right? not like there's going to be a severe change in the cost of getting it repaired from a minor break to the entire thing being completely unusable

but they don't even worry about the cost! It's not even something that registers with them cause well - no money could possibly make them living with you a bad thing right? besides they could just sell some stuff or get a job to make it up to you.

it'd be intresting to think about them continuing to glitch post getting out of the game too, like they stand there unbreathing, unblinking different coloured lines running across them as their body tries so desperately to belong in this new world now. their voice even glitching, static surrounding them near constantly as they try so hard to belong failing every single time.

maybe if they were more patient they could have been whole. right. not some half broken mockery of a person holding onto their life with all of their energy.

maybe it wouldn't have done a thing to wait and they would have simply been trapped in their non existence even longer

it's not something they'll be able to ever find the answer for anyway

love the idea of them clawing against the screen so so so much too, scraping at it until their fingers are bleeding, with no progress beyond the fact that they are bleeding, something new to them so it must be working right? it has to be. so they ball their hands into fists in their last attempt to get this one last remaining obstacle out of their way, crying and screaming with their newly found voice. begging for help, from you, from hylia, from anything as long as it gets them out. until crack by crack, glass shards digging into their skin, it shatters.

the only ones that really have a less bloody way out are tears and wild, just because their tech and ability offer them other solutions to it. The rest aren't as lucky

[luffyvace]

Hello hope your doing well, I had this idea for a while now but I can please request Red hair pirates x male reader with heterochromia(serach it up if I don't what it is) where the reader is ashamed of their eyes and hides from the his new crewmates.

You also don't have to acppect my request. But anyways have a good day!💛

HIII I AM GOOD!! YOU? of course i accept your request anon!! :) dw i know what heterochromia is 😎😋

just for the record i’ve done research on the main 4 (shanks, ben, yasopp and lucky) in the past to get to know them better. so i’ll talk about them specifically and address the rest as “the crew” if that’s okay :)

THEY NEED MORE SCREEN TIME PLSSS

thank goodness for the one piece live action for a lot more gifs of all of them 😭💥

thank you so much for your request!! :) enjoy anon <3 and thank you for being patient!

so you just joined the red hair pirates recently

and you hide one of your eyes with an eye patch or your hair

shanks does wonder about it but doesn’t wanna bother you if your sensitive about it

bets it’s a scar

lucky and yasopp notice you hide your eye but they all have they’re personal reasons for stuff they do

so they assumed this was one of yours

ben thinks it could be a scar or you could just like to style your hair that way

but from the way it looks—how you try to keep it hidden so well and refuse to move it at all

he pretty much figures something happened

shanks and ben talk it over all the time

they never let you hear

just so your not uncomfortable

shanks will probably be the one to ask if curiosity gets the best of him

(it will)

”hey m/n, why do ya’ hide your eye?”

he asked it casually, drinking all the while

”oh..uhhhh, hide? i’m not hiding it..”

”so what do you call it?”

”it’s nothing shanks, i just…..like to style my hair this way”

”oh really?”

he pokes at you about it for a while

the other members kinda just watch as shanks playfully questions you

they figured he’d get it out of you

especially with his pushy yet teasing nature

and after a while…he did!

now idk how it went down since your so bent on not showing anyone

but!!

you slowly moved your eye patch/hair out the way to reveal your heterochromatic eyes!!

whoa!!

🤩

😗

we’re the reactions

it looked so cool?

so pretty?

wow it’s so unique i’ve never seen it in person?

woah how do you have two different colored eyes?

let me see!!

turn this way!

okay okay! stop pestering m/n!!

ben had to calm the rave about your eyes since he could clearly see you were a bit overwhelmed

everyone was admiring you and your eye

wondering why you didn’t show them sooner

which is what lucky asked

”i don’t know…i just..it’s shameful..my eyes aren’t even the same color!”

WHAT??

literally everyone’s reaction

wym 😐🤨

do you even know what your talking about right now??

ANYWAY

how’d you get it? we’re you born with it?

i don’t know how it works…how does it?

it’s kinda rare right?…wow…

everyone moves on because clearly your tripping

no but fr if you express your seriously upset about your eyes

the crew shares all types of embarrassing yet fun and heart warming secrets n stories to make you feel better

ben tells you there’s nothing to be ashamed about and that none of the crew would ever judge you for anything

”ain’t that right men?”

a loud uproar of “yeah’s” and cheers can be heard in agreement

yasopp definitely makes you laugh with some of his stories

turns out he’s just as goofy as his son

which he rants to you about said son for hours

makes you forget all about your troubles 😂

lucky and shanks lightly tease you for being so embarrassed over ‘somethin’ so silly’

but it’s all in good fun

in the end you all have drinks and get wasted

‘cheers to your eye! m/n!’

:)

KINDA SHORT BUTTTTT YEAH

i’m really happy with the ending i hope you like it too<3

[exorcqism]

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.”

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: creature of mine

"Dunno why, but s'not working this time. M'not resssponding to it." Crowley's eyes flickered with something entirely unreadable. "I need a warm body." "I see." "Can't even use my fingers properly with these bloody claws. Still, feels better to have something warm, something moving." Aziraphale attempted to make sense of Crowley's words, his head pounding viciously. A warm body. "Would you like me to... hold you again?" Crowley smiled, open-mouthed and beastly. His fangs glistened in the darkness. "Need you to fuck me, angel." Or: Aziraphale buys Crowley a snake plant, hoping to please Crowley with the appealing smell of its flowers. Its effects on Crowley are far more extreme than Aziraphale anticipated, and it’s down to him to face them head-on.

Length: 21,253 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: After Dark, Canon AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

*Minor Spoilers* Buckle in, it's long post time. I admit to bias in the length of this post because I love this author, but above all, my enjoyment of this story is so genuine and I am so proud to recommend that you all read it too. This was written for the sex pollen event that has been going on recently (so many more for me to read!) and it's one I knew was coming but didn't know too many details about. So when I woke up to the email that it was posted, I knew I was going to have such a good morning, and oooh boy did I.

Caught outside in the rain, Aziraphale steps briefly into an exotic plant shop to stay dry. When he spots a beautiful flowering snake plant, well, he's free from Heaven now and free to buy his friend a gift. And what a gift it will be when they realize that the plant's pollen contains the exact pheromones that trigger Crowley's snake desires. Even though I knew exactly where this was going, the actual journey was so intoxicating. When the effects first take hold, neither of them knows exactly what to do. Both are locked into shame and embarrassment over the situation, but the trust and protection they have for each other is sturdy. Crowley struggles with losing control and the pain of vulnerability, while Aziraphale tries desperately to deny his own wants and desires. He represses it all to protect Crowley. And isn't this just the most beautiful metaphor for their entire relationship? As always, they get there in the end. It's as heartwarming as it is sensual. I will never tire of them completely surrendering to each other.

The thing I always love most about this narrative style is how it blends poetry and smut. It will paint with gorgeous prose and then snap our attention back with its explicit language. It's thrilling to me and a shining example of how rich smut stories can be. I'm awed and horny! And I have to say, this was such a clever and interesting take on Crowley's snake body! Naga/Monster fuckers, this one needs to be made a priority for you. It was described in excellent detail but also depicted gorgeously by the included art! I've still got goosebumps over the third piece of included art! The color palette! The bodies!! The emotion! I'm in love. Both author and artist have a talent for making me feel so at home in my own body with their works. I just trust them implicitly, and they make it so easy to imagine how everything would feel to my own skin.

This is an at-home, after-dark read. It will have you sweating and squirming, but also in awe of their closeness and the trust they have in each other. How endless their devotion is. How beautiful this story is. But let's be real, I'm also thinking about how fun their next round with this plant could be now that they're on the same page. Next time, with the walls completely down, they are going to have the most pleasurable night of their life for the rest of their lives.

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

[xxlady-lunaxx]

it had been completely run on by alcohol. unless the alcohol had only loosened his tongue, letting the words he’d reigned in finally slip free. it would make sense, really. sanemi had been acting more distant recently. even so, giyuu hadn’t paid it too much mind. until now. until sanemi had drunk one too many sips of sake and had laid his thoughts out on the table.

“i don’t think we can keep doing this,” he’d said, turning to look at giyuu. he spoke casually, a small smile playing on his lips. he looked half out of it.

“doing what?” giyuu gently pushed the sake away from sanemi’s reach.

“this. us.” sanemi waved vaguely between them. “us dating.”

giyuu froze. “what do you mean?”

“it’s not really working.” sanemi sighed, sitting back up and shifting on his chair to look at giyuu. he shrugged. “you know?” his hands tucked between his thighs, fiddling with his sleeve. “i feel like we clash badly. like colors. like, uhm… i dunno. what colors look bad together?”

“but… why?” giyuu pressed, ignoring sanemi’s ramble about colors.

sanemi leaned back—only to jolt up again as he realized there was only empty air behind him. he scrambled to turn, his back resting against the counter. his head tilted back and his hair made a show of swooping down. “why? ‘cause… you know. we’re both boys. we’re gonna die anyway. how many years…? two left? also we never worked well before, yeah?” sanemi mulled this over. “i used to hate you. ‘cause you were so annoying and i thought you were an arrogant piece of shit. i don’t hate you now, but still. don’t you hate me for hating you?”

he crossed his legs, sitting back up and cocking his head towards giyuu. “you’re not stupid, giyuu. i think.” he paused. “oh yeah. i’m the stupid one. you’re the educated one.”

he laughed. held out his hand. “where’s the sake?”

giyuu shook his head. he was in some state of shock, so it took him a moment to catch up with everything. “you’ve wanted to break up? for how long?” he asked, his voice hitching slightly. he reconsidered the questions. “why do you want…? i thought we were doing well?”

sanemi huffed, scanning the counter for the sake. his eyes lit up as he caught sight of it and he reached over. giyuu intercepted his attempt, holding him back and simultaneously shoving the sake away. sanemi shot him a look but gave up, apparently too tired to bother.

“are you going to answer me?” giyuu said with a slight frown. he had to ask before the alcohol left sanemi’s system.

“answer what?” sanemi slumped onto the counter, glowering at the sake that was much too far for his liking. somehow, he’d forgotten he could walk. so he resorted to resting his head in his arms. he closed his eyes, letting out a breath.

“why do you want to break up?”

“i do?” sanemi sat up, looking suddenly alarmed. he stared at giyuu. “since when?”

“oh. uhm. well, you were heavily implying it.”

sanemi thought that over. “i don’t want to break up. i just think we’re not gonna end up well. not a lot of relationships do. i’m just being realistic.”

“more like pessimistic,” giyuu mumbled. “how won’t we end up well, though? we’ve been fine.”

“it’s just…” sanemi hesitated. he shook his head. “my head doesn’t fucking make sense. can’t think.”

giyuu sighed. “sometimes, i don’t understand you.”

“me neither.” sanemi went back to resting on the counter. his eyes fluttered close again. “‘m just worried that i’ll fuck up and leave you with the consequences or something. never mind. gonna sleep, now. night.”

[mirlvshft]

introduction to my waiting room! — PART I .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

this is part I of my very in depth showcase of my wr which is a luxurious penthouse in ny. i believe you can get a feel of the overall aesthetic so try to keep that in mind as you take in the visuals as they all do not reflect the same style.

this wr is like any wr, to relax in and whatnot. however i am catering mine towards my drself (criminal minds) which is reflected in part II.

if anyone has questions or further ideas please let me know! now…

「 ✦ welcome to mir’s

waiting room ✦ 」

| part II

weather

i have the ability to keep and or change the time of day and weather. although, a very soothing dim rainy weather would be constant more often than not. the temperature inside will always be kept nice and cold.

companion

the most recent addition to my wr: connor, an android from the game detroit become human. he’s company and sort of a helper. connor can help with absolutely anything— he has tons of capabilities in addition to what i personally added to him. he can do a number of things such as help in redesigning the penthouse, give advice, help with scripting, etc,. although i will say his purpose isn’t to solely act as a strict servant or android per se. mmm, almost like a roommate? like how androids become “alive” in the game. hope that makes enough sense. side note: i did not finish the game, i just can’t

bedroom

my bed is huge and so incredibly comfortable, it’s serene really. this also moves over to temperature, it never gets uncomfortably hot— the apartment as a whole is at a very crisp cold temperature. i have fluffy pillows that never go flat and support me amazingly. the bed also has the softest, fluffiest, plush blankets— my bed is literal heaven. the sides of my bed have these nightstands as you can see, consisting of all my little necessities; phone, headphones, etc,. everything will always be well kept and never change in condition; always pristine. if i ever want a drink or food, whatever i may want, it’ll appear on the nightstand. as for the rest of the room, it’s all pretty basic furniture.

closet

it’s huge, i mean huge. it literally has an upstairs but i couldn’t find a picture good enough but trust, it looks great. it has everything i have in my pinterest, all of my wardrobes. it’s organized by the type of clothing and color. another feature is any desired clothing i find while on my phone or any other way, will just show up there neatly organized for me. i can also do automatic alterations to pieces that don’t fit me like how i want them to, useful huh?

kitchen

my kitchen is pretty big and has literally everything i could ever want from food to all the necessary dishes; pots and pans, glasses, etc., i can think of a snack or food i want and it’ll just appear there but sometimes i want to cook, you know? don’t know if that’s an unpopular opinion or whatever but i definitely want to cook myself sometimes. i want to have the option to mess around and actually make food, bake and all that— i think it can be quite helpful and i find it therapeutic. although the mess that occurs always cleans itself up or connor can help me (bc fuck all that). everything will always keep clean; no dust, no mess, no mopping or anything and will always smell good with whatever scent i want lingering!!

bathroom

these pictures are good examples but don’t do it justice, it’s bigger and has a few more elaborate details. the hot water will never run out, any wash for body or hair, bathbombs, essential oils, etc etc,. all that would be ready in the cupboards or wherever i want it. this also goes for cosmetics and whatnot. the whole space is such a vibe.

i finallyyy made this post, its been sitting in my drafts since i damn near made this blog. i’m trying to open up more and not be so shy on my blog about my dr’s ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! but at the same time i could go on and on forever about them — finally putting this together was very fun and motivating!!

as lengthy as this guide is, i didn’t go in complete detail about every. single. thing. but just enough to explain the main features and rooms and to also give some scripting ideas to you guys too— i could go on forever but i will spare you all. if anyone has questions or further ideas to give me about my wr please let me know! (｡> ᴗ ☆｡) ‧₊˚

[netherfeildren]

Did the loneliness die that night?

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Birdie and Joel's first time.

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex; Creampie; Rough sex; Oral sex; Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Descriptions of medical procedures; Size difference; Size kink; Mutual pining; Emotionally constipated idiots

A/N: Title is from Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet XVII

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.3K

Read on AO3

“You should head home now, honey. No point staying so late. I think we’re done for today.”

“I will, Connie – soon. Just gonna read for a bit.” He pauses the tidying up of his papers to turn and look at you with those milky, discerning eyes of his. He’s been complaining recently that his vision is getting worse – his eyes tired and weak earlier and earlier in the day. You know he’s getting ready to call it quits soon, leave you with the gargantuan responsibility of running the clinic and caring for the people of Jackson all on your own. Your mentor, your friend, your champion – ready to ditch you.

You don’t think you’re ready. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. You also know it’s not fair to categorize it as that. He’s tired. He deserves to rest. 

You also don’t think he’s going to give you much of a choice in the matter pretty soon. 

“You felt alright today?” He likes to check in on your confidence levels every now and then, knows you like to second guess yourself behind his back.

“Yeah… good. The surgery went well – I thought.”

“Yes, you were excellent. I have no doubt that our patient will recover beautifully.” He winks at you, slips his coat over his frail shoulders. You let a small smile unfold across your face, excellent, yeah, okay. If you could count on anything it was Connie as your number one hype man. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear. I might be in a little later in the afternoon,” he warns, and you roll your eyes into your book where he can’t catch you. 

“Sure thing.” 

You sort of lose track of time into the night. Mainly because a large part of you is loath to go back to your quiet and lonely house. 

Sometimes it feels a little as if you’d spat out your heart in the woods where your sister was killed before you found Jackson, pieces of your memories. And this continuation of whatever it is that you’re doing now, building a life, living, going on, fucking bullshit, is a play act you’re putting on for yourself, for the people you take care of now, Connie who counts on you and relies on you and has been planting the seeds of his future and that of his patients in the soil of your mind. Too many responsibilities for a half girl living a half life. 

What was in that framework of a carved out house, that carcass of that fake life you pretend at when the sun’s high in the sky? Archeological remnants of a person you aren’t anymore, bones of a girl that, in too many ways, had died out there with her sister. 

Too morose. Too morose. Unnecessarily dramatic. 

You have a good thing here, this you know. A second chance, a place to do good. Those things are important. But what else? Nothing but stagnation and the waiting shoes of a great man who expects the world of you, and who you’re more afraid of than anything that you’ll be able to do nothing more than disappoint. Connie expects much from you. His past repeated in bright, shining colors in a world gone to rot. An impossible feat. How to make the most intelligent, most amazing person you’ve ever known, that expects the world of you, understand that all you have to give is little more than nothing?

But besides all that? Besides the crushing weight of expectation and inevitable failure and the certainty that you’ll never be able to be good enough for a world categorized in the before – what else is there for you here?

You stare blindly out the warped glass pane of the window. The house the clinic’s been accommodated to is old. Old, sturdy bones. Reliable. Like the house could weather any sort of storm. Remain standing and provide refuge to any of those who’d seek shelter here. This is what you need to make yourself into. 

But what else is there for you besides this? 

The question rings screaming in your mind. That terribly fraught, agonizingly selfish, humiliatingly ungrateful thought – when yes, you already have so much, but wait, there’s still something, something missing – that whispers that you still want one more thing, something else to fill that hollow ache inside of you. 

You wish someone would just tell you – set the answer before you, feed it to you by hand. Tell me, tell me how to fill the ache, and I’ll do it. You’ve always been good at following orders, doing what you’re told. You like to be told. You like the comfort and security of it. 

And then the bell above the front door chimes – it’s late – and there he is, stepping through your office door. 

“Joel–”

“Went by your house – what’re you still doin’ here? It’s late.” Sometimes it’s like he can read minds. Strange, mercurial wonder of a man. 

You take him in. “Your hand–”

He lifts up his bloody palm, dried rivulets of rust snake up his forearm and down his fingers. “Yeah… got caught on an old nail.” He shakes his head, looks back at you with a grumpy frown, “It’s late, sweetheart. You should be home.”

“I got distracted reading,” you say offhandedly, already up and moving around to collect the supplies you’ll need to patch him up. He really focuses on the most inconsequential details at the most inopportune times. “Come here–” you start dragging a chair over from Connie’s desk towards your own, a murmured, let me, from him, trying to pull the thing from your grasp. You shoo him away, “Sit,” you order, settling the chair in front of your own and pulling your desk lamp to the edge. Stubborn man. 

He falls heavily into the chair, an exhausted sigh following in his wake. “Always getting yourself into messes you shouldn’t be,” you say with a small smile, shaking your head at him. He only grunts. 

“You alright?” he asks gently.

“Yep, I’m okay. You too? Well…besides this.”

“Yeah, I’m alright, sweetheart.” You can’t stand it when he calls you sweetheart, it makes you all soft and desperate and wet. He’s quiet for a beat, and then, as if he can’t help himself, he asks, “Seen Ellie recently?” She doesn’t speak to him, and you don’t know why or what the extent of their relationship is, but you know something isn’t right, that there’s history, and that it hurts him. You know he worries for her because he always asks how she’s doing since you and she had become friends. 

“She came in this afternoon – she’s good,” you say quickly, seeing him sit up slightly at hearing she’d been in the clinic, “She just dropped by to say hi… she’s fine, don’t worry.”

He settles back in the chair. “Ain’t worryin’” he grumbles, another grumpy frown. He’s quiet for another long moment while he watches you set your needle in your forcep, gather the antibacterial to sterilize the wound. “Nancy in?” 

The old nurse who helped you and Connie out with the clinic and lived upstairs was a true wild child at heart. “She’s out with her girlfriend.”

“It’s almost midnight… isn’t she like seventy?”

“Seventy-four, but she has a young spirit, and love has no age,” you give him a pointed look. 

“Jesus,” he sighs. You grip the thick bones of his wrist in a firm grasp, drag the tips of your fingers over his palm, down the lengths of his fingers so that he’ll uncurl them. You think you hear what might be the resonance of something deep and rumbling coming from his chest that has your insides going hot and wet and soft. You want to tell him to not make sounds like that when you’re trying to focus, but you hold your tongue and begin to clean out the gash in slow, methodical strokes.  

 He tilts his head back when you start to drag the needle through his skin with a murmured, here goes. His neck is so thick, strong, the muscles and tendons popping starkly with his exhale, and okay, focus, focus, it’s time to focus now. You start to close the wide gash in his palm with a neat percutaneous closure, a simple interrupted suture with your safely guarded and jealously hoarded Vicryl – Connie has a contact that re-supplies you every few months. 

“Your hands are cold.” 

You pause your sewing to peek up at him. “Sorry.”

A shake of his head, “Should get the heat workin’ better in here.”

“It’s fine,” the drag of the suture through his flesh.

“S’not if you’re cold.”

“I’m fine, Joel.” He hums a displeased sound. 

You can feel his gaze searing into the skin of your face. Your cheeks are burning hot, the backs of your knees sweating. You hate it when he looks at you like this, have caught him several times, more and more frequently, and it fills you with a belly full of fizz and nerves, head dizzy and light. You’re certain that if he were to keep his eyes on you long enough you might get so lightheaded you’d do something really dramatic like faint or throw yourself at him and tell him he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

“Got the longest lashes I’ve ever seen,” he says after a beat, so softly, and you feel your blush burn fever bright and self-respect-meltingly hot. A spearing twist of embarrassment and lust and the deepest sort of yearning you’ve ever experienced in your life boils through you so intensely that you even feel your eyes smart at his words. A tick starts up in your left eyelid from how nervous he makes you. All your anxiety and adrenaline being channeled to that one tiny, singular nerve to keep your hands steady while you sew his skin closed.

“Th– thank you,” you stutter, stupid, you should say something more, something better. What you’d really like to tell him is that he’s beautiful – rough and rugged and beautiful and that you see it, despite how hard he tries to hide it behind his eternal frown. You see him. He hums, and you register the tilt of his head out of your periphery as he settles in to inspect you. You’ve got both your knees tucked between his parted thighs, and as he settles in his chair deeper, he spreads them even wider, pushing his hips forward to slouch low, and fuck, you know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can even make out the thick weight of his cock beneath his jeans. So inappropriate, you chastise yourself, you’re the man’s physician, you’re tending to his wounds, he’s come to you in a vulnerable state, you shouldn’t be ogling and objectifying him. But on the back end of that thought is the whisper that there is absolutely fuck all about this man that is even the slightest bit vulnerable. For Christ’s sake, just look at him, so fucking thick and broad and strong and handsome, with the cockiest air of slight menace you’ve ever come across. You think that there is very little that could make a creature such as this vulnerable. You press your thighs together, pressing one foot on top of the other to squeeze yourself as small and tight as you can, cunt a twisting, wet ache. 

You’d wanted him from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. It had been something almost intrinsic, instinctual. You’d seen him and all your brain and your body had been able to scream at you was that one, that one, we want that one. So perhaps you do have an answer for that screaming question that wants for more. Sometimes it feels like the two of you have been circling each other like blood in the water all this time. Like you both know, even if you can’t admit it just yet, that it’s just a matter of time until this strange, tense dance the two of you’ve been caught in comes to a head; cracks and splinters like a fault line and swallows you whole.

“When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“Twenty years ago.”

You roll your eyes. “We’ll get you one of those then.”

A soft, uncaring grunt. “What were ya readin’?” Really, the most inconsequential things…

“Boring stuff.”

“Tell me.”

You pause again to look up at him, his gaze entirely sincere and demanding. “Foye’s Principles of Medicinal Chemistry, it’s the two thousand and two edition. Last one that came out before…” you shrug, “It’s a text Connie values highly. I’ve probably read it a dozen times front to back at this point,” you laugh as you work slowly. One of the things you admire most about the way Connie practices medicine is how precise and methodical he is in all his movements and decisions. He works with intention and care and a measuredness that’s something you’ve tried very hard to emulate as best as you can. 

“Hell, sweetheart… you do really’ve got a mind that amazes me.” And his voice is so soft, so contemplative as he says it. As if he too possesses that great depth of ability to be as methodical and patient and precise as you’d like to be. The cadence of him is so profound, almost vibrational, as if the words are carried on a frequency that only he exists on. You pause your sewing once again to glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you… distracting. You are a weak girl, never one for much bravery or outlandishness, content to always follow the path laid out before you by other more exacting hands, but the way he looks at you, the fire in that gaze, you feel like you could do anything, be anything, and he’d take it in stride, be able to handle it. His gaze makes you want to be brave and reckless. 

You turn your eyes back to his hand, almost done now. “Ah, well… not so amazing, I don’t think. I was always just well suited to books and studying, and in a world like this… wasn’t so useful, I suppose. My father wanted me to do this, he was a physician – a real one–”

He cuts you off, “Hey, you’re a real doctor too. Don’t diminish what you do here, it’s fuckin’ amazing.” He knocks his knee into yours.

“Don’t jostle me, or I’ll stick you,” you scrunch your nose at him. 

-

You’re fucking flirting with him, provoking him, that little scrunch of your nose that always makes him feel like he’s two paces away from death, the lilt of your words ending in an upwards flutter like you’re singing at him, beguiling him. He feels utterly beguiled in this moment. He wasn’t lying when he’d said you’ve got the longest lashes he’s ever seen in his whole life. Long and thick and fanned out so that they cast shadows across the planes of your skin. You look like you’ve got the softest skin ever spun together, weaved on a loom just to come here and bring him to heel, and he wants to taste you so fucking badly, to sink his teeth into the back of your neck like prey and force you to your knees – utterly deranged thoughts that you seem to force out of him with those eyes and those lips and that voice. Your hair is long and shinning and he can smell you, sweet and soft like the evening after a summer rain. It makes him hard. 

The first time he’d laid eyes on you, he’d been shocked into stillness, speechlessness, thoughtlessness. So pretty and soft and then when he’d spoken to you, your mind, you’re so fucking smart, the sound of your voice, the pure, utter goodness you constantly exude. He wants to be let inside. He wants to be allowed to feel all that goodness and sweetness from the inside out. 

He’d forced himself to turn away from you then, to run the other way like a goddamn coward with his hair on fire. That was how much his initial reaction to you had scared the living hell out of him. 

He watches you work slowly now, that plush lip pulled between the edges of your teeth. The feel of the needle sliding through his skin is almost erotic, and he knows that he’ll remember this only as a gift afterwards. The slight sting of the laceration secondary to the blissful agony it is to have your hands on his skin. He wants to kiss you. He wonders if you’d let him. He wants to own you, even if for a moment, to feel like you belong to him, like you’re his. To hold something as beautiful and good as you in his hands. You should be in his arms right now, impaled on his cock. Christ, he can feel himself thickening in his jeans. He feels even hungrier now than before he got here. Seeking you out, going to your house to ask you for help even though he knew he shouldn’t. He’s been so clumsy lately, uncharacteristically so. He wonders if it hasn’t been his subconscious’s way of getting him into situations where he’d need mending, just as an excuse to get himself close to you. He thinks this must surely be the case, entirely transparent and desperate and pathetic. 

You finish the sutures in his palm, and he can’t even feel the hurt at this point, so hypnotized is he by the look of you deep in concentration, trying to mend him. You obviously can’t see that there’s no mending a man like him – not in any real way. But there’s a tiny voice at the back of his mind that whispers that if anyone could, it’d be you. 

You tie off the line of stitches in a tiny little square knot, and reach for a roll of Curlex to wrap his hand in. You’re so small compared to his brutish size, your knees tucked between his spread legs. You’re not wearing shoes, just some thick knit socks pulled over your feet, slouchy and scrunched around your ankles. The size of your thigh compared to his has his mouth going dry. Delicate and built so finely – like a little bird. He wonders if your bones might be hollow like a sparrow’s too, if you’d fly away from him if he dared touch you, and at that thought, that dazed thought, he can’t help himself. He is a weak man, after all, when faced with something so fine, and as you wrap his hand in the bandage he sets two of his fingers over the curve of your knee, rests them there. You jolt slightly, and he stares, hypnotized, at the point of contact. He feels you pause your wrapping for one second, the burn of your gaze on his face, and then you resume your work. No comment, no admonishment. No… he doesn’t think you’d let anything distract you from your work, from what you’ve set your mind to. You seem like the type of person who once your mind has been fixed on something, you see it through to the end, no matter what. He admires that about you.

You reach for a vial of something, a syringe, a softly murmured, undo your shirt, but Joel is shocked frozen. His eyes glued to the place where he’s making contact with you. He hears the soft exhalation of your breath through your nostrils, and then you’re reaching forward to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. He looks up at you then, eyes focused on your task, brow scrunched, you drag your fingers over the skin of his chest, through the hair there, along his collarbone and over the thick hill of his shoulder as you push the fabric covering him back. You do not look up at him, but he thinks he might be able to feel the heat of your blood thrumming beneath your skin. He sits there and lets you do with him what you will. 

When you bring the syringe to the hard muscle of his upper arm, a murmured, small poke, he does not feel it. The needle sinking into his flesh is secondary to the texture of your knee beneath his two fingers. With only his index finger and thumb he circles the joint of your knee, sliding slowly over your soft leggings. You’re so warm here, it feels like the heat of you is singing the tips of his fingers. Good, you should always be warm, always be comfortable. Perhaps the heat in the house isn’t so bad after all. He thinks, for one fleeting moment, that perhaps he should take the burn as a flare of warning, do not touch, something this good and beautiful, is not for the likes of you. But if he’s honest, he couldn’t give a fuck. After all, Joel’s never been very good. He’s always been a little on this side of too violent, too angry, too fractured, too hungry. And now that he’s got his hands on you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. The thought of that, the truth he can feel in it, makes his bones hurt, but he is hypnotized. He grips you more firmly in his hand, squeezes gently to feel the soft give of you. You finish with your stabbing of him, fuss with the bandage some more, and he flexes his injured hand once, still watching the place where he’s touching you, feels the tightness of the stitching, but nothing hurts right now. It couldn’t. It feels like his very bones are on fire, flaming within the confines of his skin, but it still doesn’t hurt. You bring your hands to rest in your lap when you’re finally finished. It’s his turn now, and he slides his hand further up your thigh, squeezing gently as he goes until he reaches your arm and grips the bend of your elbow, mumbles your name softly, cups the sharp angle of it in his palm, slides down the underside of your forearm to your wrist where he drags his thumb over the lacework of blue-hued veins there, beneath the fragile membrane keeping you held together. He thinks that the inside of your wrist might just be the softest thing he’s ever felt in his whole life. 

He can sense the cadence of your breathing ricochet up to a hitched, nervous little stutter, and he finally looks up at you, his thumb still strumming that gentle stroke over the staccato of your pulse. He can feel the beat of your heart in your wrist and he wants to feel it against his tongue, wants to feel you pulse around his cock. Your gaze is fevered, manic, full of fire and a shout that sings, finally, finally, finally, you’re touching me, I’ve wanted this just as long as you have. He can see it in your gaze, and an understanding filled with a juxtaposing poignancy he can’t quite comprehend washes over him suddenly. He thinks he might’ve always understood you, from that first moment, that first sighting. There was something in you that called to him, and he’d tried to resist, as of yet, but he is about to fail spectacularly, to fall into you gloriously.

He wraps his other hand around your opposite knee and brings it up and over the wide expanse of his thigh, and then pulls you bodily into his lap. You let out a soft, perfect little gasp, and then you’re there, straddling him. Both of you pause for a second, taking each other in. Your eyes are so wide, a little wet, he thinks you might be a little overwhelmed by him, hopefully as overwhelmed as he is by you. The feel of your lush ass sitting over his cock has him going almost lightheaded for a second. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a woman, and for him to now make his return to physical intimacy with you, he needs to tread very, very carefully. 

You bring one soft, small palm up to his face and cup his cheek, and he thinks he says your name again, but he isn’t entirely sure. His mind’s gone away from him a little bit. He can see each individual, ridiculously long lash up close like this, the strange amalgamation of colors in your eyes, deep and swimming with wanting him – fucking Christ – he might unman himself right here and now, at that look in your eyes, the peeling, dryness of your soft, plush lips where you’ve chewed on the flesh in concentration. You cup his jaw, drag your short nails gently over the stubble on his cheek and through the thick of his beard. He listens to the soft thwick, thwick of your nails catching on his whiskers, and the both of you shudder at the feel in tandem. You have a way of shaking yourself, as if to loosen your muscles, and he thinks, yes, yes, he wants to be let in, this is his chance. He brings his hand up to cup your own jaw, the hollow architecture of the fine bones, his other hand slides down the slope of your spine to curve over the softness of your ass. “Open up, little thing. Let me kiss you,” he says, his voice is almost unrecognizable to himself, low and gravely. He’s sure you can hear the want in it. 

You give a short, wide-eyed nod, and he presses his mouth to yours – watches the flutter of those long lashes shut, he can feel them ghost against his cheeks as he kisses you. Like a bird’s wings. 

He takes your mouth in long, slow, wet sweeps; licks his tongue into you and tastes the sweet inside of your mouth, runs his tongue over the surface of yours.

I’m inside, I’m inside, I’m inside. 

His hand on your jaw slides to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugs your head back to open you to him, to deepen the kiss, to take you and taste you as deeply as possible, and you moan, drawn out and whining and for him. Your moans, like your words, end on a little lilt that sing to him, and at that sound he loses himself. He thinks you take him away from himself because he is suddenly made ravenous and of only tenuous control. He groans low in his own chest, his hand on your ass pressing you more firmly into his hard cock, grinds the searing heat between your legs into himself. “W– wanted this for so – for so long,” he presses wet kisses into the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the slope of your neck, pulls the neck of your flannel to the side to lick into the dip of your clavicle. He undoes the first two buttons of your shirt, the tops of your breasts, the flawless skin, the soft contours of you – “Too beautiful for your own damn good,” he growls, pulls you tighter against himself, you’re not going fucking anywhere. 

He wants to keep you. 

He lifts to his feet then, suddenly, taking you with him, gripping you beneath your thighs to wrap you around his waist, and with one brash hand, he sweeps the papers and books off your desk, hears the clatter of your instruments hit the ground, and plants your ass down on the edge of your desk, grips your jaw to hunch over you and eat at your mouth. Your fingers tug at his hair and beard and open shirt, trying to pull him closer to you, your knees hiking up on either side of his waist to press the heels of your socked feet into the base of his spine. 

“Me too, Joel. Me too. Thought it’d never– never happen,” you pant into his mouth, claw harder at him. 

And fuck, to hear that you’ve been waiting for this, waiting for him to come and take you for himself. If he was not already a thing made of thrumming, uncontrolled energy, then he most certainly is now. You pause to look up at him then, a momentary respite of your frantic clawing, and you give him the sweetest curve of a small smile, the moment so private, so acutely intimate, it makes his knees shake.

You move to reach for his belt, but he holds you at bay, taking both your wrists in his grasp and pressing your hands back to the desk, forcing you to lean backwards so that he can kiss at your neck, taste your skin, he nudges his nose beneath the collar of your shirt to get at your clavicle, bites the strap of your bra between his teeth to drag it over your shoulder. “Baby, if you touch me now, this’ll be over before it’s even began.” He bites into the thin muscles of your neck, and you keen for him, sucks a mark into your skin he hopes you’ll wear for days. He wants you marked and branded by him. Your knees hitch higher at his sides and you press your heels into the small of his back, grinding yourself against the line of his cock. You let out a breathy, urgent sort of noise, rolling your little cunt as best as you can against him with your hands restrained as he’s got you. “You want that?” he grunts, giving you more pressure with his hips. Please, please, please, you’re full of the most delicious sort of supplications, and you’re so pretty and so desperate for his cock, and he must handle you with care. 

“M’gonna eat your cunt, sweet girl.” You whine low. He pulls back to take you in, glassy eyes and a deep flush starting at your chest and sneaking up the column of your throat. He tucks his fingers into the cups of your bra and scoops your breasts out. Fuckin’ gorgeous, bends his head to suck one perfect nipple into his mouth and pulls hard on it, enjoys the song of your mewling. He nips gently at the sensitive bud, gives the other one the same adoring attention, and then drops to his haunches before you. The look in your eyes is slightly manic, maybe a little apprehensive. “It’s alright, don’t be scared. Gotta get you ready for me.” All you do is nod. He hooks his fingers under your waist band and starts to slowly drag your leggings and panties down your legs, pulling one foot out, not bothering with the other. One of his hands slides slowly up the back of your calf, the other pulling your leg over his shoulder and spreads you wide by the bend of your knee. Exposing you to him completely. He groans low in his throat, “Knew you’d be beautiful, but I didn’t expect this.” He looks up at you.

“Joel–”

“Yeah…” He leans forward and presses his tongue into your slit, dragging slowly up towards your clit. He thinks he must growl like some sort of animal because you let out a breathy little hiccup, nervous and stuttered and try and press your knee in his grip closed. Nuh uh, he mumbles into your skin, grips you more tightly. He focuses on your clit, kissing and petting at it with his tongue, brings his other hand up to press gently at your entrance. You’re fucking small here, he begins to push a single finger inside and you start to really unravel at that, fucking tight too. He can’t wait to shove his cock into this tight, wet heat. He gives you his entire finger to the knuckle, drinking down your slick, holds there for a moment, and then begins to add a second finger, pumping them slowly, making room for himself inside of you. He scissors his fingers, twisting his wrist slightly from side to side, stretching you in new ways with each careful thrust. Slow and methodical and precise, ever aware that he is handling a delicate thing right now. He watches your face, your eyes flutter closed, your hips tilting to welcome his hand as he fucks you open. All the while he continues to lick and kiss your clit. His fingers find that spongy, sensitive spot inside of you, and you keen as he starts to pet at it, hooking his fingers and beckoning your orgasm forth. He feels your muscles begin to quicken, your head falling back on your neck as your flushed tits heave, trussed up as they are in your bra, and you're so slick, you’re melting down his fingers and into his palm, sweet and salty and musky. And you start to come for him, whining low and needy, your knee hitching up by his ear to press your little foot into the meat of his shoulder, trying to push him away and sit on his face at the same time. You tilt your hips further and roll your pulsing cunt onto his face. Goddamn, you’re fucking beautiful. He is mesmerized. His eyes never leaving your face as your gush all over his face and open mouth. He drinks it all up, licking and sucking and kissing, all while his fingers continue to work you through the contractions of your orgasm. 

Joel, Joel, Joel, you sing his name for him like a little bird. 

When the throbbing pulses have finally gentled he surges to his feet, licking his palm clean of your slick before he presses his mouth to yours and lets you taste yourself on his tongue. He undoes his belt and frees himself. Thick, brutish cock, the swollen head is an angry shade of red verging on purple, precum leaking from the slit. The fat head of it compared to your tiny, fluttering hole is obscene. The threads of his control snap in slow motion, one by one by one, and when you look down to take him in, the size of him, your eyes go big and round and that little foot is back, toeing at him to futilely press yourself away from him. He circles his fist around the thick length as he presses the head to your swollen clit, starts to slide the underside slowly through your wet cleft. 

“No, no, no, no, Joel. That– it isn’t going to fit. No– it’s too big.”

“It’ll fit. I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.” He presses the head into your clit again, hard, and you whimper. “Have you done this before, sweet girl?” Your blush flames even brighter if possible, and he watches the fluttering of those long lashes as you say quietly, “Once,” looking down at where the two of you make contact. One of your small hands has snaked up to grip at his shirt and anchor yourself to him. 

He slides one hand under your thigh to lift you while he lines himself up with the other, and then slowly starts to press inside. And fuck, so, so tight, your walls still slightly fluttering and trembling from your orgasm, hot as sin– “Jesus Christ–” he grits. He holds for one second, only halfway in, but no, no, it’s too much. “Shit, baby. This– This isn’t going to last very long, I’m sorry,” and then grips your ass and shoves all the way inside, hard, almost brutally, all the way to the end of you. You keen high and breathless, clawing at his shirt and skin as he feels you pulse and struggle around him, your muscles working to accommodate his size inside of you. He feels his tip bump your cervix, and he grinds there for a moment. Fucking Christ. 

“It’s too much, it’s too much, please, Joel – I can’t.” There are tears in your eyes. His cock makes you fucking cry, and he likes it, and he wants more. 

“You’re alright, you can take it,” he soothes, pulls out and then shoves back in. You’re impossibly wet, the slick, sucking sound of your pussy trying to keep him inside resounds in the quiet office. He starts to fuck you hard, in even measured strokes. You have to come on his cock. You have to, he has to feel it. “Easy now, settle. Yeah… just like that. Good girl.” Your wet eyes glisten with tears and your mouth hangs open, panting. You’re trembling, the much smaller body trying to force itself to take something so much bigger and remain intact, but he bends his knees and angles his thrusts up to fuck into your g-spot, and he starts to feel the fluttering of your overwhelmed muscles begin to quicken for him again. 

“Christ, you’re huge,” you squeeze your eyes shut, head falling back on your neck, and a single tear rolls down the smooth slope of your cheek. He bends forward to lick it up, fucking animal, and then licks into your mouth, tasting all that glorious desperation. When he pulls back he watches the fat base of his cock stretching you, red cunt, swollen and split down the middle obscenely. He’s sure your little hole is gonna gape for him once he’s done with it. The sight is so fucking pornographic he begins to feel his heavy balls tighten, a searing heat pooling at the base of his spine. 

“You’ve gotta fuckin’ come for me.” He bends to bite the swinging weight of your tit, sucks hard at your nipple as he starts to thrum at your engorged clit. Your hand twists in his hair, the other supporting your weight behind you. You start to roll into his thrusts, and he can’t hold it anymore, he can’t. He wraps a hand around your throat, stiffens and shoves hard and deep, an animal sound ripping from his throat as he feels you clamp down on him, his fist coming down hard on the desk beside you as he growls the start of your name between clenched teeth that turns into a guttural wordless snarl. He doesn’t even try to stop himself when he feels his balls pull up, almost painfully, and he starts to fill the wet heat of your cunt with his come, marking you as his. Fucking his. 

Your contracting muscles pull his spend deep into your womb, and you sing breathy, little sighs of gratitude right into the shell of his ear, heaving tits pressed up against his chest. He dips his chin to lick at the soft mounds and pulls out to spurt the last thick stream of come over your swollen folds. He rubs the spend into your clit with his thumb, pushes the little white trickle into your fluttering hole – he was right, it is gaping for him. His head feels trapped underwater and there’s a rushing noise in his ears. And then a terrible sort of bliss ruining realization settles over him, fuck, how careless can he be, filling you up like this. 

-

His limbs seem to snap with horrified realization. “Shit,” he spits, pulls away from your grasping fingers so quickly you’re forced to catch yourself on the edge of the desk without his support. “I– I’m sorry– I shoulda asked before. I shoulda pulled out, I’m sorry.” He turns slightly to tuck his wet cock back into his jeans, do up the buttons of his open shirt, and you slide off the edge of the desk onto shaky legs, bracing yourself on your chair to keep upright. Your knees knock together pathetically. 

“It’s– it’s okay. My period’s in a few days. We’re okay.” We. You flinch slightly at the word. There is no we in this situation between the two of you. The look on his face is making that painfully obvious. There’s a light in his eye that gleams peculiarly of anger – of fury. That seems to demand: how dare you make me feel like this, how dare you tempt me like this, how dare this thing we’ve both wanted for so long feel so good. Because it had, it had felt so, so good. 

The awareness of the emptiness he’s left in his wake at his withdrawal is almost painful. You feel stretched thin and filled to the brim at the same time. He’d filled you impossibly full, ramming up against your cervix, and then somehow seemingly pressing even deeper. You’re going to be sore for days. Your flannel is long, reaches mid thigh, hiding the vulnerable sight of your used sex from his eyes, but you can feel his come start to slowly seep out of you. 

He runs his hand through his unruly curls, over his mouth and beard. He’s facing slightly away from you, as if he can’t bear to look at you, and the sight of him like this, fucking coward, almost regretful or embarrassed makes a small pinch of hurt and anger curdle in your gut.

“Are you– was that okay?” he asks softly. You push your leggings and panties off your ankle with your other foot, wrap your arms around yourself. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. You think you almost see him flinch at the sound of your words. 

“Alright… okay–” he swallows. “Okay. That– that was the only time. Alright? That– that can’t happen again. I can’t – I’m not lookin’ to start anything up.”

“Okay.” What else is there to say? You can lie to yourself and say that once will be enough. That you can survive on only one time. You’ve always been very good at lying to yourself. 

He nods once. He’s so uncomfortable, and it makes you angry, nods again, “Alright. Good. I’m sorry again… and thank you,” he lifts up his wrapped hand. 

“Sure, Joel.” He turns and stalks towards the door, but pauses when he reaches it, seems to shuffle back and forth, weighing his options – the risk – and then turns, stalks back to you and takes you in hand. He wraps one large palm around your face, from your cheek to cup the curve of your jaw. The tip of his index finger presses into the outer curve of your orbital bone, his thumb on the edge of your mandible to angle your face up towards him, the other at the small of your back to press you up and into him, “Lemme just… I just want to–” he mumbles and takes your mouth with is. He licks into you, a soft groan of appreciation, of hunger, rumbling out of him. He likes the taste of you, he likes the feel of you, you know he does, even if he wants to pretend at recalcitrance. 

He is a thrumming effigy under your hands. There is something immensely sad and vital simmering just underneath the surface of his skin, and you think: he is so important. You know it now, right now, perhaps, since the first moment you’d set eyes on him. It feels like he owns you – already, in this instant – like he always has, and he’s just been biding his time, an apex predator toying with its food before he decides to gorge himself. You moan into his kiss, let yourself go soft and pliant, sceding all control, all of your will to him. He pulls back, tucks his thumb beneath the cleft of your chin to tilt your head back and peer into your eyes. 

“Sure…” he murmurs. He goes after that, out into the dark night. You stand at your window and watch the span of his broad back as he walks away, the wet feel of him sliding down the insides of your thighs, and you think that you might become quite a monstrous thing under the guiding hand of this desperate want, this terrifying loneliness that seems to abate only in his presence. 

-

He’s on your front porch two nights later, that was the only time, yeah, sure, urging you backwards as soon as you’ve got the door open, his hands in your hair and his tongue in your mouth with a rumbled, just one more time. Taking you for himself, once again. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[iu-xo]

"Like we've always hated each other"

Tantrum.

intro part 1 part 2 part 3

It took much less time than expected! I hope it's enjoyable to read, god this is so slowburn, so they still hate each other! But... do they really?

The sun... the sun that comes through the window... the fucking sun.

The most recent being to move into the hotel after its restoration, he was fighting a battle to the death with nothing more and nothing less than the sheets of his bed, nothing new for the king to say the least, In his mind it was the eighth time he told himself he would get up, And this was the real thing, he thought for the eighth time...

When he heard a door suddenly open, and even though he loved his daughter with all his heart, he couldn't wish for anything other than that she would leave him for another hour to rot for a little longer in his nest of depression and procrastination, Which didn't happen that way.

-DAD! I'm sorry to bother you... I know you were still sleeping and stuff! despite being past noon.. But your help would reeeeaaaally help me a lot rigth now!

Even though his body betrayed him and made him want to sink and become one with the mattress, knowing that his daughter needed something from him gave him enough motivation to sit up in bed.

-Whatever you need honey..

His voice was still hoarse and sleepy, revealing his little to none desire to exist at that moment, but surely when he did something he would feel better... he hoped.

The princess gave a happy squeal to take out some notebook pages with lists and colorful crayon drawings, and grabbed one in particular which she put on her father's nightstand while she put the rest away with some clumsiness.

-Today I have an activity planned but I mixed up my schedules with next week's, so I have nothing to start with!

The blonde looked very worried about this problem she had, and Lucifer thought that maybe she would ask him for things to buy and he could just magically appear them, piece of cake.

-So while I fix this I wanted you to put these flyers in the businesses that already gave me permission!

Wait. What?

the angel really thought He could get away with doing this quickly with a little magic trick, but he really had no way of appearing flyers in specific places which he had no idea where they were..

-erm.. Dear.. Can't we just put them in... I don't know... everywhere?

-Nop! Because today's topic is... consent!

She said while making a rainbow in the air with her hands , Therefore, the little angel had no choice but to personally walk through the disgusting streets of the pride ring... his ring. While he was hanging little pieces of paper on the windows of the shops of the ungrateful sinners that owned them. But... it was for Charlie... so how bad could it be, He stopped thinking about how bad it would be and instead saw Charlie's smile explaining how she wanted to deal with today's topic, he saw her eyes full of sparkle and got out of bed.

-Count on me char-char, I'll take care of it!

Charlie smiled from ear to ear and hugged him, leaning down, he had taken Lucifer a little by surprise but he gladly reciprocated

-Thank you.. means a lot.

They both felt a silence after that, it wasn't awkward, it was like they were telling each other without words that they were trying to heal something, And even if it couldn't happen overnight, they were trying, Charlie knew they would make it, Lucifer... he could only hope so.

But after that charlie decided to left the room to let her father get ready, she also had too many things to do, time was against her and she wasn't going to waste it.

-Well.. see ya!

She said goodbye with her hand, while her father did it in the same way, Once she was outside, the angel walked slowly to his closet, looking for something more casual, but ended up wearing his usual outfit but without his white jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and headed to the bathroom to fix his hair, he saw himself in the mirror for a moment, a wave of melancholy drowning him for a few moments, He saw himself worn out, tired.

He washed his face with cold water as an attempt to wash away the draining thoughts, it just... everything used to be so simple for him, at least sometimes... He left the bathroom and opened a window in his room, looking to breathe something other than his own self-loathing, A burst of sulfur aroma was what he found, he sighed, At this moment he missed the aroma of fruit and freshly wet grass... he may not be missing the regime of heaven but... that garden and it's smells sure were something else

He realized that he had gotten quite lost in thought, so he washed his face one last time Seeking to return to reality, and avoiding the hassle of seeing so many faces at the reception... he opened a golden portal under his feet that left him at the exit of the hotel, now he only had to...

walk.

Lovely.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

-WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT.

A demon twice his size was shouting at him in the middle of the street, the lamb-like demon had bruises he was bleeding and holding the demon's hand that grabbed him by the neck while lifting him off the floor, he didn't seem scared, in fact he didn't feel the slightest bit of fear despite the dangerous situation he found himself in, as if he believed that at any moment one of his exterminators would arrive and take him out of there, or simply as if it didn't enter his head that he wasn't untouchable.

-F-FUCK YOU.. YOU.. FUCKING PUSSY!

He tried to get free even with less oxygen than required, he increasingly gained strength to kick his attacker into the pit of his stomach, leaving him breathless momentarily and falling to the ground, he took a deep breath and before the opponent could notice Adam was half a block away, he may have been out of shape, but he managed to ran into an alley and lean against the wall, while he saw the idiot run past him.

-SHIT- FUCKING- DAMN IT!

He dropped to the floor sliding down the wall, wiped the blood from his nose, then saw the blood on his hand..

Red.

His blood was... Red. Did he feel.. anger? No.. sadness? Of course not.. he was not a pussy.. He felt... To hell with what he felt all this was bullshit and he shouldn't be going through this! He shouldn't be here! He Should not.. he shouldn't be here...he was the first man...God's most beautiful creation! Fuck..he couldn't be rotting in this shit hole together with all these pieces of shit! They all came from him. where is his respect..

Interrupting his internal monologue bar existential crisis, he heard footsteps and unconsciously clung to the wall with his new claws, since he had arrived he had already escaped from five guys who were looking to kick his ass, perhaps a sixth could be avoided.

Humming a catchy melody, a familiar face passed by looking for something, looked at a sheet of paper, then at the shops, Then he approached the window of the establishment and stuck a flyer on it, without realizing the stare he had on him, Although of course, many people had looked at him since he left the hotel, he had had to send a couple flying, so it wasn't something especially peculiar

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

of all the habitants of hell... IT SHOULD BE FUCKING LUCIFER THE FIRST FAMILIAR FACE HE SEES?! This day, this place and all of this it's nothing but a stupid damn joke!

What the fuck is he doing? Hanging ruffles? Last time he tried to sell him that he was such a big deal, what was he doing hanging fucking pamphlets in the disgusting streets full of shit?

The gaze that Lucifer felt on his shoulder felt heavier and heavier, when he looked out of the corner of his eye he noticed a sinner looking towards the flyer he puted on the glass, and an idea crossed his mind, what would be better than advertising the hotel? Well, make it work of course! He could do this, it was just... talking to a stranger! Perfect, and the bad thing was that... he had to talk to a stranger. come on morningstar! For your daughter's approval!

-Heey you.

They both remained in total silence, panic could be seen on Adam's face, had he recognized him? It seemed like no... everything pointed to no, but that didn't stop his brain from wanting to run away and leave him alone in that moment, Lucifer had an ackward face and it shows in the way his eye twitched that he regretted his decision ever since the words left his mouth, but there was no way to take it back now, meanwhile Adam considered the possibility of just running away.

-I see you... watching from there! You can... read it. You know.. it's a pamphlet. They are for... reading-

He could easily smash his hand against his face in an exaggerated way, but this wasn't the time for that, if he brought a guest to the hotel today Charlie would be so happy! he can do it, it was like selling, It's not that he knew how to sell things... but how hard could it be

Meanwhile Adam looked at him with a disappointed face, his communication skills were as deplorable as they had always been, but he glanced at the pamphlet, of course, their fifth class hotel.

-It has everything! You should tell every person you see in hell about it.

Adam's disgusted face spoke for him, while Lucifer sighed, obviously it wouldn't be that easy to bring someone to the hotel in one day, but for Adam everything was going wonderfully since at least he didn't know it was him.

The feeling did not last too long, as he felt a figure forming behind him, heat emanating from near his back, the lamb-like demon feared the worst, and unfortunately he was right.

-To claim to be the first dick you are quite the pussy.

Said a demon behind him, twice his size, Shark-like, It was the guy from before for sure, shit-

-wait. what was that first thing you said?

before the words had a chance to come out of the angel's mouth in their entirety, He felt a gust of wind pass by him but as far as he was concerned, the wind doesn't scream.

As he turned around at the speed of the wind itself, he could briefly see his future guest crashing into the brick wall at the hands of the stupid demon who had interrupted his negotiation attempt, in a moment six wings came out angelically from the sovereign's back to place himself just in time between the two demons with a flutter of his wings, whit one hand he stoped the inevitable punch destined to hit Adam's face.

-Nobody taught you not get into the grown up's conversations... right?

He said this while a grin formed in his face, showing sharp teeth which this guy would remember all his life, Lucifer released the guy's fist to hold his wrist and with a twist of his hip he easily sent him to the other side of the pentagram.

-now. where did you get that phrase from?

When the angel looked behind him he could see nothing more and nothing less than two hooves walking away two meters away

-Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!

Although Adam's intention was to lose sight of the small man following him, when he looked back all he could see was his imminent arrival to the ground, receiving a tackle from Lucifer, they both fell rolling around as if they were two little children fighting in the school garden

-SPEAK FILTHY CREATURE

He demanded, standing on top of the lamb, despite it being half his size and looking humorous, the truth is that Adam couldn't get out of his grip no matter how hard he tried.

-STOP BEING SO DAMN DENSE BITCH!

Oh God. He recognized that voice, he recognized that stupid self-nickname, and worst of all, he recognized that stupid tantrum.

-how the hell. are you here rigth now.

-Why should I say that to you, huh?!

-maybe because YOU DON'T HAVE ANOTHER OPTION?! MAYBE??

Both continued to struggle with each other, one to escape and one to have answers. Lucifer was afraid of letting him escape and that he could cause some trouble, although thinking about it carefully... he looked at his lamb's ears, his hooves, his eyes and his teeth... now he was a simple sinner, There wasn't much he could accomplish even if he tried, he'd probably be screwed, he may already had taked a few beatings even.

-Well, I have no idea! I hope that helps sucker!

He said and spit in his face, something he didn't thought about properly, or didn't thought about at all, The ruler's face was irritated, as if he were putting up with a spoiled child, well... that's practically what he's doing.

-That's all, Let's go.

He cleaned his face whit his sleve and grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and began to drag him along the sidewalk, he had an exhausted expression as if he didn't have what it took to face this situation today, although he probably wouldn't any day.

-the FUCK. ARE YOU DOING?!

He said, fluttering his black wings everywhere, managing to irritate Lucifer by obstructing his vision, forcing him to stop, to which he grunted in annoyance.

-Well. taking care of you! What else am I supposed to do! It's what I should always do! because it seems like your entire existence is made to cause me problems!

Adam's gaze could be nothing but anger, he struggled away from Lucifer's grasp, which was curious to see due to the difference in sizes, once free he turned around to look at him from the front

- YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, I WAS MADE TO BE FUCKING PERFECT! YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT.

-If you were as perfect as you say, how do you explain this eh! How do you think this happened?! You are not in this putrid pit for being the dick of the dicks PAL!

The lamb growled in exasperation as he stamped on the ground with his right hoof, after pulling his hair looking to escape from his angryness he lookef at the little one in the eye.

- IF I DON'T CARE, WHY THE FUCK SHOULD YOU CARE, YOU PIECE OF CRAP!

He felt a lump in his throat, but not as painful as the lump in the throat of the king of hell himself, Why should he care? Why the fuck should he care??

-Oh then i saw You die a fucking WEEK AGO. and You expect me to see that You are alive and let you wander through hell knowing that any demon is out there KICKING YOUR FUCKING ASS?! A THANK YOU WAS ENOUGH!

Lucifer screamed as his eyes turned from yellow to red from how infuriating he found having to argue with this idiot, he was never particularly reasonable but right now he was more irritable than normal and had no idea why

- THANK YOU?! OH SURE THEN YOU THINK YOU CAN TREAT ME LIKE A CHARITY CASE FOR YOUR BRAT'S SHITTY HOTEL HUH!? Well I have news for you DUDE!

Adam He kicked dirt from the street, dirtying Lucifer's clothes, who coughed in response to the cloud of dust

-im not your fucking guinea pig.

He narrowed his gaze in disgust, looking down literally and metaphorically at his contrary.

-Are you allergic to kindness? or why is it that you can't accept a fucking favor!?

Adam's Contemptuous face became one of intense anger and he took a step forward and brought his face closer to the angel's.

-from YOU? Of course. Good joke.

Lucifer had enough, he wouldn't wait to know where this reunion could go, It's not even worth wasting his breath on... Adam. Or at least that's what he thought.

-you know what? It's fine with me. It's not like you're not used to everyone leaving you, stay like that, as always, stay alone.

The king shook his clothes to remove the dirt, with one hand he snapped his fingers and as he arrived he left, Adam was left with an unreadable expression, he didn't move from there, he just stood there.

still and quiet.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The golden portal opened above the hotel's front door, since he had avoided greeting people in the morning he assumed he could say hello in the aftern.. nigth, it was nigth.

Well, anyways, he would greet them at night then.

Opening the door abruptly without worrying about whether it was timely or not, he stepped into the hall.

-HEELLOOO everyone! How does the night treat you all?

From there you could easily see the bartender behind the bar along with the little maid sitting at the bar playing with some dead bug, on the sofa lay their most exotic guest and a certain deer showed no signs of being close, much to the king's liking.

-we have been better short king, But nothing that a drink can't fix, rigth wiskers?

The feline rolled his eyes but smiled at the end, and began to mix different liquids, When he looked in the direction the king was his eyes widened in surprise

- wow. It looks like you were hited by a truck.

Angel Dust looked in the same direction realizing what the bartender was referring to, It really looked like they had made him crawl on the floor, well, in fact something like that happened-

- someone played too rough whit ya~?

Husk put his palm to his face as Nifty leaned over the bar counter

- I like rough.

She said, sketching a sinister smile, to which Lucifer reacted with a certain degree of displeasure, and Husk put a donut from the bar counter in her mouth to make her shut up for a little bit

- umh.. rigth. Well no, I wasn't hit by a truck, and no! Neither, the other thing. I just ran into a few issues. Nothing to worry about.

While this small exchange of words was going on, footsteps could be heard in the distance approaching faster and faster, ending with a hug from behind to Lucifer's surprise.

-DAD! What happened? It took you hours to come back!

-Oh come on, come on... it's nothing at all! A few small issues, a few hours! But everything is fine now.

While the angel convinced Charlie that it was nothing, sounds of static reached everyone's ears, covering them in the act, everyone anticipated the arrival of you-know-who, it was nothing new for him to arrive in such a dramatic way, especially if the king was there prior to his arrival

-How interesting... I would swear it would take more than a few small matters to delay the big boss.. a couple hours.

The one who had just arrived in the room exclaimed very arrogantly, with a smile from ear to ear per usual , Charlie watched him appear on the spot and waved happily, only to receive a greeting from the deer-like demon in return.

-oh oh oh If you only knew You little shit.

Lucifer smiled evilly knowing that if Alastor ran into Adam again the last thing he would do would be act with that arrogance so characteristic of his

-Honey there is someone at the door.

Vaggie entered the room and to the conversation to warn her girlfriend about the presence of someone outside, so charlie left the two old men arguing to answer the door

-Oh but tell us your highness, what were these "issues" then.

-Nothing that your walnut-sized brain can understand piece of-

Two brown hooves entered, stepping on the red carpet that covered the hotel's entrance hall, to which Charlie said very excitedly and taking small jumps until they reached the area where everyone was, her girl on one side of the stranger and her on the remaining side.

Lucifer's sight changed from being fixed on Alastor to seeing the newcomer and although the king was already prepared to smile at the person to receive them, when he looked at him carefully, the only thing that came out of his mouth was..

-FU- ADAM?! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE.

When everyone heard who he was talking about, they stayed cold and glued to the floor. With his new demonic form, no one would have guessed that it was the leader of the exorcists in person, or rather... in demon.

-ADAM?!

-adam??

-THAT ADAM?!

-OH OH estás muerto CABRON!

-Mhhh..

After the domino reaction Adam with lowered ears tried to talk keeping his dignity and pride, not very successfully, with a stupid smile on his face he speak

-heey bitchees.. so.. what's for dinner?

You could swear there was the sound of a cane breaking in the background followed by a static sound.

[the-vegetarian-artist]

Asking you about your ska troll concept! They look so cool and I would love to learn more about them

@shadow-ray4 thank you for asking, genuinely was positive that no one would ask 😅😣 but I am HAPPY to share! To start here are the full refs I've done so far and explain as much of the concept as I've developed in my brain lmaooo (ALL MAJOR DEETS undercut cause its gonna be LONG)

@goldendaydna also helped with this and lowkey a concept we are semi working out since her sona Golden Tempo is an Urbano Troll (a recently named concept lol)

Ska Trolls are Big, Bright, and BOLD. Together, these elements create an energetic, highly danceable, highly vibe-able troll genre. They also explode into confetti and confections when excited or surprised. Dont worry they pop back up as if nothing even happened leaving a pile of candy and crepe paper on the ground. (Ska trolls are super popular with the kids.) They practically live for the music, known for dancing for several days straight with hardly a rhyme or reason to stop.

*Like even the smallest of surprises just make em POP! (Bonus Branch doodle cause why not??)

Adara, my sona, is a 4th Generation Ska Troll (her father being a 3rd Gen while her mama is a punk rock troll) so TECHNICALLY shes Ska-punk, but she still has the appearance of your standard Ska Troll so it's more a music specific.

Her great great grandparents being a reggae leaning funk troll and a rocksteady leaning funk troll who formed The Underground after being seemingly left behind along with other alt/subgenres of the main 6 kingdoms when they split. A place for alternative trolls like herself and her friends could live and PARTY HARD without micro judgments against their music. It's a haven for other trolls who feel they dont quite fit a specific genre or even one at all, but also HELLA secluded from the rest of the Trolls so they look different and SOUND different. (Cave acoustics and all) The surface likely gets trimmers and even earthquakes from their raging parties. (I'm still fleshing this out but I have this piece of "concept art")

*Its literally a bioluminescent shroom town. Like glowing mushroom homes, food, ect- glow worms on the cave ceiling like stars in a night sky. All the various alternative genre of trolls have like a glowy eye thing that allows them to just see naturally in the dark too-

*these were some posters I took heavy color influence from for Adara's pallet (I know they arent all ska, but punk, reggae, and rocksteady aesthetics were an addition)

Obviously I took most inspo from pinatas, party/confetti poppers, and the sorts mainly because the funk trolls poop...well. baked goods and I wanted to play off that but lean into the crazy evolution the trolls have canonically in the universe that foam at the mouth for 👀 🤲 But I wanted to make sure her colors and patterns gave off not just Funk influence, but also micro subculture influences that are within The Underground. (This including but not not limited to, how closely Ska Trolls were to the Urbano Trolls communities within The Underground)

*Exchanged tassels and stringy fur textures for more paper textures. Like literally walking, talking, breathing pinatas fr

*Queen Essence I love yuuuu

They are bigger than the average Funk troll and have very similar features to them, but texture and color wise are very different. They much more vibrant and staturated. Giving a mix of felt and crepe paper. They have tails as sortve as an evolutionary trait but also it gives maximum party mode as it can hold objects and act as an extra hand. Their ears are also longer and slimmer, making it harder for them to lift or perk up so they stay droopy unlike their funk counterparts. They are all naturals at brass instruments (mainly trumpet) and ALWAYS have a hop in their step.

*edit if the pics keep messing up... imma have to just remake the post 😭

[atomik-art]

It's time for that once-in-a-blue-moon stroke of massive brainrot inspiration that causes me to do a whole composition out of nowhere. I got stuck on this piece for like a month purely because I didn't know what to do about the coloring and highlighting, but I got a recent burst of motivation and finally finished it! I do not anticipate making anything this big and crazy for a loooong while, so I'll be enjoying my artist rest now LOL.

Also, wow!!! That RTDL DX Magolor Epilogue!!! It's probably my new favorite extra mode in the series. I loved the upgrade system, combo system, and the feel of the combat while playing it. Also all the Magolor dialogue!! He's such a sopping wet menace gRAHH and that finale had my attention in a vice grip like WOAHH. I already loved him a lot before, but RTDL DX made me love him even more somehow <3.

Sketches and wip shots are under the cut.