#i can only draw so much until i get tired or burnt out

[circusthing]

if i'm not being perceived, do i exist at all?

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Nsfw scenarios/hcs for the LADS boys with their MC in ABO!AU (Idl if I wrote this right 😅) please? Like how they marked their mates, how they treated their mates during the rut and heat, etc.

+ Omegaverse, sexual content, alpha boys/omega reader, female reader

General

9/10 possessiveness level

Xavier is the most possessive of the main boys and gets jealous the easiest. He may seem calm about other alphas standing a little too close or talking a little too long to his mate, but the tension in the air is thick and unpleasant. There's a specific eery calmness to his face and falsely polite tone to his voice when he happens to cut into the conversation. He always wants to know the topic of conversation when you talk to anyone who has his suspicion. Xavier suddenly gets a little needier than usual, always trying to figure out a way to draw your attention back to himself. Or, purposely sliding an arm around your waist and holding you close in a silent hint that whoever is talking to you should back off, or he will drop his head against your shoulder, saying he’s tired, and asking you to hurry up so you can go home together,  he emphasizes. His last resort isn't pretty. 

While calm, he has a little of a competitive streak with others, whether that means scoring higher in your hunter team battles or building the largest snowman together. He is competitive for your attention against those he thinks are interested in you; and when he has you alone, he insists on scenting you or mating you. You better be prepared to hide large bite marks or hickeys by the time he’s done claiming you.

Protective Level: 6/10

Xavier has no problem with you running about your daily life. He has confidence that you’re strong and don’t necessarily need much protection. He only insists on coming with for two things: (one) if he’s jealous of the person you’re meeting or (two) if you’re going somewhere to fight on your own.

As long as he’s around, he’s confident that things will work out fine. However, he gets extremely protective when you’re hurt, asking for you to stay behind him, rushing ahead to be the vanguard, and trying to take on the brunt of everything himself. And if you get hurt being rash, prepare for him to be upset with you and insist that you allow him to protect you more.

Scenting

Scent: Fresh Linen

Xavier smells good, but there isn’t something to pinpoint about his scent that is unique to him. Simply put, he smells clean, like freshly dried laundry with a touch of lavender.

Xavier loves covering you in his scent, cuddling and sleeping with you until you’re no longer entirely sure what your scent smells like not mixed with his. He scents your things, like your plushies, before you even need to ask. 

He likes to tease you, asking if you want him to scent his hoodies even more since you take them so much, and he’s always happy to oblige. His first instinct to calm you down consists of three options: scenting, cuddles, and food, in that order.

Mating

Xavier already likes to mate with his partner a lot, like a constant rut minus the attitude that comes with it; always wrapping his arms around you, nudging the back of your neck, and lightly coercing the situation to where he wants it to end up whenever the opportunity shows itself.

In a rut, he’s twice as easy to rile up and much more direct about wanting to be alone with you, wanting to hold you and shove his head into the divot of your neck, and audibly inhaling your scent. You can already feel him against you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t waste his time trying to play games with you during this time, choosing to show you exactly how much he wants you before taking charge. You’re burnt out by his energy when you’re used to him napping right after a round or two. This time he isn’t letting up, but he promises that he’ll treat you so well, promises that he’ll get you there twice in exchange for letting him have one more time, as if you're aren't already overstimulated with jellied legs.

He asks if you're already tired. He'll let you sleep but can he at least squeeze and kiss you while he uses his hand. He promises to clean his mess if it gets on you. He'll be good, he swears, and he's so puppy eyed that you let him.

When he finally is tired, he’ll fall asleep while inside you. His knot stopped swelling a long time ago, but he enjoys your warmth around him as he nuzzles the back of your head.

Xavier does his best to tend to his mate when they’re in heat. He’ll get warm compresses and try his best to cook for you (most likely failing) and offer to nap with you when you’re in pain. He’ll let you use him how you want as long as it makes you feel better, whether that’s using his hands, mouth, or knotting you.

There’s a small bit of worry from him, with the way he asks,

“Where do you need it?” “Like this?” “Are you sure you only want my fingers? It’s okay to ask for more.” “Open your legs wider. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It's only me." "Next time, I'll let you take care of me, deal?

You’re so cute like this, needing and wanting him, but he hates how it causes you pain.

General

3/10 possessiveness level

Rafayel tends to have confidence that he can have you before anyone else, trusting your judgment to take care of yourself. He also has pretty high esteem of himself when it comes to the social world. A few properly chosen words is usually enough to get any seducer to back off. Rafayel can’t believe someone else could possibly think they’d have a chance with you when you have him.

As repentance, he wants you to do things for him after little incidents like that. It’s so exhausting chasing lesser alphas off, after all. Whether he’s serious or not when he says he could use some affection after his omega so cruelly ignored him for another alpha remains to be determined.

If there ever is a time where he feels insecure or jealous, he isn’t above trying to cut off someone’s relationship with you. If it comes to threats so be it, but it will end. It doesn’t matter if it’s from your side or the pursuer. It’s an ultimatum, either him or the other person, but not both.

He has a bigger concern about you not needing or growing bored of him than falling in love with someone else. Otherwise, he tends to have faith in you.

Protectiveness Level: 8/10

Rafayel knows you’re strong. Trust him—a twisted arm and playfights abound—he knows. But you are also bulledheaded and naïve. He worries you might end up getting yourself injured; or worse, killed.

So, he’s observant as always, watching for any suspicious activities with the people you’re around, whether warranted or not. He wouldn’t just do that for anyone, only for his precious mate and also for his precious peace of mind. He tends to operate from the background to not be too overbearing, but he doesn’t mind being the one to step in—to get hurt—if it means keeping you safe.

Scenting

Scent: Beach Sand with a Hint of Citrus

Rafayel smells of white beach sand and tropical fruit. He smells like the first hint of salt air and the ocean breeze and mineral. It reminds you of family vacations and old memories. He insists most Lemurians have scents like these, but his is special! It's the only one that mixes so lovely with yours.

He does scent you when you ask, but he requests that you do the same. It’d be much better for you to scent each other. He loves to tease you when you ask him to scent things for you.

“If you like it so much maybe I should make it into a perfume.” But he’d hate it if you actually agree. “Wait, let’s not be too hasty. A perfume really can’t compete with the natural source.”

Mating

Rafayel dislikes his mating cycle only because he dislikes losing his sense of control over himself. But when you’re there, with your scent clouding his mind, it’s all bets off. He’s so needy and HAS to have you. He feels like he’ll die if he isn’t burying himself in your scent, your presence, in you. He needs to feel your hands on him and isn’t below demeaning himself or being more forceful than usual to get it.

He’ll constantly seek you out, calling you late at night. He has nothing to say. He just needed to hear your voice, just keep breathing for him, he’s almost there. He needs you to come over to his place right now. It’s all your fault he’s burning like this. You need to get there immediately and take responsibility before he goes insane. He's already dizzy and his hand isn’t cutting it anymore.

In person, he grabs your hand, and the look in his eyes is begging in place of his mouth that’s too heavy with pants to talk straight as he savors your touch, desperate and gluttonous. 

“Right there...don't make me beg…just a little bit longer.” “I need to feel you. There. You feel incredible.” “If you want my knot, you can have it. Say you want it for me, and I’ll give it to you. Say it.”

When it’s your turn to go manic, he’s going to have his revenge for all the bullying and petting you did while he was rutting. He’s going to coo and fawn over how much you need him, and make you ask him nicely for his touch, but he’ll always give in to his little mate. He knows what’ll make you feel good, and he’s going to give it to you in due time. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re about to cum, covered in sweat, body tensing, the shallow, quick breaths.

“I wish I could paint you like this, but I don’t want to look away.” “Do you really want me to breed you that bad? Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

Rafayel is going to make sure you have an easy time, clearing out your schedule for you and letting you stay in the studio with him. Thomas' calls are going to go unanswered for a while.

General

6/10 possessiveness level

Zayne is able to get jealous; however, he isn’t one to distrust you. It’s other people he doesn’t trust. He’ll drop hints he doesn’t like something you’re doing, a sarcastic jab here, a polite warning there, and even a “you should be careful of the company you keep.”. He always introduces himself as your mate to ensure there are no misconceptions about your relationship with him.

Zayne occasionally has to remind you that he’s your partner especially when you insist on teasing him and being a brat, poking at that jealous side of his to rile him up. It doesn’t take long for you to get the idea after having him between your legs. It’s really more of a funny thing, seeing him possessive, because he becomes a lot more short-tempered but absolutely refuses to admit he’s being possessive.

However, he calms relatively easy with some reassurance, and he doesn’t care as much if someone likes you after he knows you have zero interest in them. It’s more of an annoyance than something for him to fear.

Protectiveness Level: 10/10

Zayne is always so worried about you. He always has to tell you to be careful, to watch where you’re stepping so you don’t trip, to not drink too much without him there to take you home, and to watch for injuries. It might be a bit of his doctor attitude coming out, but it’s so much worse when it comes to you. You know no one else who adds the weather of the city you’re in to confirm you’re okay.

He’s also protective of your mental wellbeing; he tends to be the rock you rely on. If someone is bothering you, you can tell him, and he’ll be sure to handle the issue immediately.

Scenting

Scent: Bamboo Forest

Zayne smells like bamboo forests, a mix of floral and earthy. It kind of reminds you of him, calm and quiet but strong and solid like the earth. Fresh, green, and slightly woody. It smells like nature.

He scents you when you ask, and he quietly scents you when he wants, always overthinking if it’s something you want him to do or appropriate at a given point in time. It doesn’t take long for him to become better at knowing when you want it, when to leave something with his scent for you when you’re upset, and when to simply cradle you against him. His mood improves exponentially whenever you shove your face into his chest and mumble about how good he smells.

Zayne loves the way you smell. It’s a familiar and comforting thing to have your scent greeting him after a hard day at work. It lets him know you’re doing okay, and he gets worried whenever your scent is off. He can usually tell the slightest changes of your mood, and it makes him agitated whenever you try to pretend you’re fine when he can clearly tell different from smell alone.

Mating

Zayne tries his best to control himself and avoid you during his ruts. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, which leads him to being too restrained whenever he’s with you to the point where you can tell he’s not handling himself well.

It’s going to take a few times to convince him that you can handle it, that he can let go and give you everything before he finally allows himself to dive into his hormones, throw you against the bed, and kiss you hard. It's almost like a completely different side of him. Sure, he could always be dominant in the bedroom but there was always a control to it. Instead, he's instinctive, running off the rush of endorphins to reach the peak he desperately wants to tumble over, harsh and tunnel visioned as he chases the sensation of you clamping down around his knot.

“Hold it there, we’re almost there. You can handle it.” “Let me have you a few more times. Then, you can rest.” “Good girl. You’re doing so well. So good to me.”

During your time, he is meticulous. Zayne knows you almost as well as you know yourself, knows what sweets you like to eat, what positions make you the most comfortable, and tips on how to keep yourself together.

That only works so long, however, and soon he takes a more hands on approach in helping you through your heat cycle. His fingers curled up inside you, pushing that sweet springy spot inside you that has your juices pouring over his palm. He shushes you as you beg for him to give you more and more, to please stop this edging and fuck you already.

He promises he’ll make it good, but he has to slowly work you up first, so you won’t get overstimulated. Then, he’ll give you what you want until you pass out.

“Hold still, or do you want me to stop?” “Does it feel that good? I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.” “See what happens when you follow directions?” “You’ll have your reward soon. Which do you prefer to have—my fingers or my knot?”

Zayne also takes special care of you no matter the situation, making sure to wipe you off and hold a warm rag to your swollen and puffy cunt as he makes out with you. He scents you heavily afterward and lets you fall asleep against him until it all starts over again.

[askfallenroyalty]

Here's some more deleted scene panels that never made it in

sorry there's no captions, there's just too many panels to describe and i'm tired. hopefully i'll have the energy/rememebr to do so tomorrow ):

IM REALLY SAD THIS ONE DIDN'T GET IN. I even drew asriel shutting flowey in a box for this joke to work. There was going to be a visual gag of it being a "soap" box. Haha.

Asgore was originally going to tell Asriel to think of something nice to get his mind off of his panic attack.

Which, while funny, took away the feeling of intense panic the audience and asriel should have been feeling at the time. It just didn't fit the pacing/mood. It also showed that -well, i don't know if this is a legitimate grounding technique or if it'd be read as "its ok just think happy thoughts <3 then ur panic attack would end" which... is not.... how that works. Even if it was only to give Asriel a moment of respite, it's shown as effective until Asgore brings up a bad memory. So. bad comic sequence.

more stuff under the cut

I had a really, really hard time balancing the tone of the scene that is currently happening in the redraw. it's why i'm so behind in my drawings, so i'm only now sketching the next couple month's updates.

This chapter has gone through SO MANY changes. I feel that comes with it being the first chapter to completely diverge from the original tumblr version.

Asriel was originally going to have a very on-the-nose nightmare about Flowey feeling excluded from the family and fearing drowning. Now, the whole darkness/water metaphor for suicidal depression will be introduced when that stuff starts to come into play in chapter 4...

i mean, just to really hammer home how much i had to delete for this: i actually did sketch out the original tumblr version here. I had it all ready before chapter 2 began posting. But as I was finishing the color for the warship section I realized, shoot, I don't wanna repeat it.

When I first made the tumblr version, i was getting burnt out and the characters just became so much... meaner? rude? to each other. some bickering or annoyance is fine but I have a bad habit of going overboard. That's something I hope to correct in the rewrite -and focus more on less drama and more wholesome/loving moments.

(note the above scene is shown not in full. its jumping around a bit)

Even tho I was mostly keeping chapter the same the first time I sketched it for the redraw, I added this scene. The idea was that when the house was on fire, Frisk would of ran off to the right of the house to where you can see Old Home.

There, even tho Frisk can't verbally talk, the two have a nice heart-to-heart. Chara remember Frisk has [spoilers] issues. Chara was going to own up to their bad behavior.

Now well, hm. Chara's got a lot of shit going on. Frisk of course has forgiven them (like they do for everyone in the underground -_- oh frisk...) and it's going to be something that's addressed down the road. for now, they've held hands, and shown solidarity for each other. As kids, they're going to goof around and be buddies and not let the cruddy stuff chara did earlier matter. things are so much less of a big deal when you're a kid.

[starkissedblade]

💸💸💸💸💸

this is me just talking abt money and random stuff veeerrryy boring but i bought a pair of shoes a couple months ago for $200 and i have only wore them once i just stare at them and think about my bad spending decisions and i know i will start wearing them soon because they’re the only platform shoes i have but they’re also the most expensive shoes ive ever worn & i just die a little inside i need to get over it tho but i also thought of getting new walking shoes since ive had these ones for 5 yrs now (tbh i think the 200$ shoes r the only ones ive bought 4 myself new like all my shoes which is like only my everyday walking shoes, a pair of docs from hs, & a pair of flip flops i dont have many shoes & all were bought for me by someone else like yrs ago) and my feet r starting to get sore wearing them everyday but i think i might just buy new soles instead like these shoes still have traction.. cuz i need to buy a hair dryer and diffuser cup thing soon because im tired of air drying my hair and i want to make my wavy/slightly curly hair look presentable on the regular and not just occasionally and i need to spend money on that instead!!! but also will i do that??? i just put it off lmao it will probably be months before i actually buy something for that why does everything cost moneyyyy i feel like every day im making bad money decisions but i haven’t been That bad like 9/10 i use the stuff that i buy all the way. im physically stopping myself rn from dropping 40 something on this thing that a lot of ppl say really actually helps their cystic acne which ive had constant problems w. but i cant just do that. its 40!!!! instead i need to buy travel liquid containers that are smaller than 3 oz online cuz they usually only have big ones at walmart and i don’t need them to be That big i never do anything beyond a carry on because checked baggage is Expensive and it stresses me out on top of the expensiveness Anyway u can only have like a sandwich baggy sized thing w liquids in a carry on which is sooo annoying 😒 anyway there’s like $100 worth of stuff this yr that ive got that ive actually Really regretted like at the end of the day the new shoes r worth it for me because i’ll wear them until they break. i get so stressed over not using more than a third of the alcohol based mouthwash i got in feb because it burnt my mouth too much i get stressed over the cerave gentle cleanser i got but then it’s not what i need liked i needed the salacylic acid one instead so now that one just stares at me in its largely unused glory like i worry tooooo much but it’s also kind of good worrying because it keeps me in check cuz it makes me quadruple check if i really need something… but i do usually keep my impulse spending to the thrift which is usually a good thing. i bought a cool hat a couple days ago for a couple bucks but my head is too big :(( i need to look for a place that’ll give it away for free im done w giving stuff to goodwill or other places i just want ppl to be able to get clothes w out paying for it i hope that theres something like that around here. anyway i need to buy a really small point pen tomorrow to do this art thing for Father’s Day cuz my smallest point pen went dry yrs ago and this is the first time im picking up doing something like this in yrs like it’s for Father’s Day tho so i feel like it’s justified. and then i’ll need to get T in the next month 🚬 which has been 140 recently cuz i my state doesn’t cover it in insurance. at least insurance covers blood draws and my doctor doesn’t charge for messaging online abt stuff, so. and at least medicaid in my state covers some dental because ihave that appointment next month. and then ill be paying close to $200 for a flight ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh at least its not more than that ig. at least cheap allegiant flights r a thing . im so lucky in so many ways financially because of my mom step dad being so nice to me basically buying a car 4 me at 18 and letting me live w them rent free etc like idk how i got here i am still not used to it really i feel like its gonna be

pulled out from underneath me soon or something

[seldomscilence16]

Voltron in "The Little Mermaid" Part 2!

Alright so I wanted to get 2/3 of it out in July cause ya know Julance, so it may be a little rushed but im having fun so thats nice. And this one comes with burnt out art! (By that I mean I gave up half way cause drawing is hard but its still cute.) Once again, thank you to @paracosm299 for being the backbone to this fanfic. And I hope everyone else likes it too! If I ever find a laptop that doesnt hate me and tumblr I'll link the three together. Until then, hopefully my tags might work for ya'll...

Also, if ya'll havent listened to the music from all three versions (cartoon, live action, broadway) youre missing out and they are referenced in this part. So minor spoilers for the Live Action! ("Shes in love" OBC is a bop I do so recommend it)

~~~~~~~~~

Lance sprawls across one of the many rocks, chest heaving as he tries to slow his heart rate. His eyes roam what he can see of his collection, that familiar ache hitting him hard.

He just didn't understand. 

Here, in the waters he's always known, he should feel a sense of home. And yet at every corner, he simply feels trapped, unable to even breathe without the threat of punishment for doing it 'wrong'. Instead of love and encouragement, he is crushed under rules, expectations, and this pressure to do something, but with no idea what that something is. He has a vague recollection of a woman, with deep brown eyes- the only real feature he can recall- saying so earnestly, it was almost prayer-like, that he was their future. 

He still couldn't fathom what she meant. Lance, the future? Should he somehow outlive the Emperor, Lance would be taken down immediately, by those vying for the Triton. Sendak may drill his lessons and expectations into him daily, but Lance doubted very much he'd ever actually hold any power. The only future Lance can see, is either forever a decoration to the Emperor, or a trophy given to another. The very thought makes him shudder, but it's a reality he's long since acknowledged. 

Lance was no future. Lance was not free to be a future. Lance was simply... a dressed up prisoner. 

For every gadget, gizmo, whosit, whatsit, and thingamabob Lance found, for every glimpse of wonder, a longing grew. He wanted more than this, he wanted...

To be where the people are. To see them dance, to walk around on those... those... feet! To run along streets, to stay all day under the sun's warm rays, wandering free... was it so much to wish to be up there with them? He hasn't much to give, but he wonders idly, if he were offered a chance, would he give what was asked in return readily? To live out of these waters, for even just a day to spend warm on the sandy beaches. 

Coran has since crawled from his own little crevice, watching him with worried eyes,

"I bet you up there, they understand, that they don't reprimand your every move, that they see you for who you are. Im... I'm sick of swimming with an anchor strapped to my fin. I want to stand, free... is that so much to ask Coran?" 

"No child, to be free is not something that you should have to pay for." And the emotion in the man's voice has tears of his own burning in Lance's eyes. 

"I want to know everything, ask them my questions and get some real answers. Like, whats a fire and why does it, what's that word?? Burn! When will I be allowed to do something for me?" Lance swims through his treasures, towards the small hole at the top, reaching towards the surface he's forbidden from breaching, "I'd love to explore that world up above... out of the sea, I just... I wish I could be a part of a different world... I know that makes me terrible, but... I'm so tired..."

Lance stares at the barest glimpse of the moon before it's covered, casting a shadow that's dispersed by bursts of colored light. 

"What in the Seas?" 

"Wait, Lance my boy, it's not safe up there, not tonight!" 

But Lance ignores the octopus, for probably the first time, making his way towards the surface before he can stop himself, breaching it fully for the first time. Loud popping sounds assault his ears, and debris splashes around him, before him a little ways, is a large ship with joyous music playing. Lance looks around, maybe for a sign to turn back, but finds none, something almost seems to be... pulling him, calling him, towards the Ship. He navigates past the debris, until he comes to the side of the ship where smaller ones hang. It takes him a moment to pull himself up and into it, arms straining as he tries to remain quiet. 

There's a small gap that allows him to see the occupants, and a smile graces his face as he watches them dance. They throw each other around and slam their feet, and play instruments and drink. And just when Lance thinks it can't get any better, they start to sing. 

It wasn't as melodic as the songs of his people, or as hypnotic or power filled as the royal siren songs. And yet, Lance couldn't look away. To think that just as his people feared and hated humans, Humans too, feared his people. They were so different, but at the same time, not so different at all. 

One of the humans, seemingly younger than the rest, was on the edge of their celebration. The bright- and loud- lights in the air illuminated his face, eyes shining just so, like where water and sky meet. He's pulled aside by a taller man, who has a scar over his nose and a tuft of white hair laying on his forehead. They come close enough for their voices to drift to Lance's position, and he ducks away from the opening until only his eye is seen. 

"Keith, you know we have to go back." The taller one says, sounding apologetic. 

"Shiro it's my birthday, please let me have this one day not to think about that place." The shorter one- Keith- responds. 

"You know Kolivan will be coming over to lecture you soon. The late King-" 

"Wanted me to be trapped inside the castle for the rest of my life, isolated on our island home, never to do anything new because he had some crazy notion that that would keep us safe." He sighs, leaning heavily on the railing and staring off into the distance, the furry creature lays at his feet, staring at Lance curiously. He buries a hand in his fur with a smile. "I feel like the ocean is calling to me Shiro, I'm not afraid of it, I want to explore." 

Lance feels a sort of resonation, like he's looking in the mirror once again instead of at a human. Someone who sees a future, and is ready to make it himself...

A crack of lightning lights up the sky, violent and sudden as the ocean rises up and crashes against the ship. 

"Storms coming in fast! On your toes!" 

Lance jumps into the waves before he can hear more, he needed to leave, there was no telling if this was Posiedon or Sendak-

"Keith!" 

Lance's eyes flash back to the ship, to Keith holding the fluffy creature and throwing him as the ship is alight and collapsing. Lance curses in his head, diving below again to help, guiding him to the calls of the people in the little ships. When he comes up again, he sees no sign of Keith and a panic he can't describe grips his heart. 

He dives again, dodging wreckage as the ship sinks, swimming through the harsh currents in search for a splotch of red. His distress rises with each moment, movements quick and jerky, until finally, finally, he sees it. Unmoving except for his slow descent, arms raised like even in unconsciousness he's reaching for something. As Lance draws closer he sees the cut along his jaw, the ripped clothing, smaller injuries, and he's sure bruising will form. 

Hooking his arms under Keith's own Lance drags him to the surface. It's an effort to keep the human's head above the waves as the storm rages on, but Lance wont let him drown, not while he can do something about it. He heads inland, praying to any God that will listen, that the human survives. 

Even if it means his own demise when he returns to Atlantica. 

...

The sand is dry and coarse, but warm under the morning sun's rays, as he tugs the waterlogged human far enough from the lapping waves. His hand shakes as it hovers over the still form, the cut on his cheek still leaks blood, his pale skin taking on a sickly pallor, before he can really think twice, his voice rises from somewhere deep. A careful melody fills the air around them, a glow encompassing his own form as he finally places his hand to Keiths chest. 

It takes longer than he'd like for color to return to his cheeks, one now marred with a scabbing scar. A groan leaves his lips and Lance's relief is palpable, despite the exhaustion that settles into his very bones. He wants nothing more than to lay here, but he knows better. Shouts reach his ears, and with a reluctance he cant place, he returns to the sea, hiding behind a rock a ways off. 

He watches as a group of humans surround Keith, who seems at least semi-coherent now, watches as they make off towards their own settlements. 

"I don't know what this feeling is. I don't even know how I know, but... something changed. I've found the world I want to be a part of..." 

Lance watches until they've vanished from view, a pull stronger than ever before, calling him towards a human with inky hair and deep eyes, to a future he'd never thought of. 

If he lived past sunset that is. 

...

Allura practically falls on his head, Coran wrapped around his arm only a second behind. 

"Lonce! Where have you been!?" Allura is scanning his face, claws hovering, "Coran told me about the… thing… and then there was a storm and you were gone! We've been worried sick!" 

"Im sorry, I just-"

"Don't even think about lying to me Lonce!" 

Lance swears shes on the verge of tears, and he lets out a reluctant sigh,

"I…" he rubs his free hand over the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, "Rescued a human…" he mumbles.

"You did WHAT!?" 

"No one saw me!" Lance is quick to defend, admittedly a little petulant. 

"Shhhh!!! Sendak can not know about this!" Allura looks around in a panic, her voice hushed.

"Know about what?" A new voice asks from behind, nearly scaring Lance right out of his scales. 

Flipping around Lance sees someone he hadn't in several years,

"Rachel?? What are you doing here? I thought you all weren't allowed at the gatherings anymore!" They clasp arms, exchanging smiles.

"Well, he wants info on our territory then someone has to come." Her grin turns sly, and Lance thinks there's more to what she says, but then again, it always seems like there's more when it comes to them. "So what's this I hear we aren't telling?" 

"Nothing. Seriously guys, I'm already gonna get a lecture from Se- my father, I really don't need this right now." 

He sees a bunch of Mers heading towards the reefs, decides that's a good way to delay the inevitable, and follows. Though of course he has company cause they dont give up that easily. And to continue his declining luck, four more mers to add to his growing entourage. 

"Wow, look how big you've gotten!!" Lisa exclaims, looking close to pinching his cheeks like a Grandma- though Lance only knew this through observation of their pod.

"Lance has a secret!" Rachel blabs, leaning over his shoulder with far more excitement than necessary. 

He groans, pushing her away as he joins the other mers in cleaning up the reef, a twinge of guilt in his gut despite the cause of the storm being from someone else's power. 

"Oh, what, does Grumpy blob have a crush or something?" Marco teases, elbowing Luis beside him. 

Lance grumbles as he fumbles with the debris hes moving, internally cursing himself at the gasps around him. 

"So! You're acting fishy because you're up to your gills in love!" Rachel swoons backwards into Marcos waiting arms. 

"Oh Dios Mios." Lance would love for a cavern to open up, right now, beneath him, please. 

The only Mers who don't treat him like Sendak's property and he wants to throttle them. 

"I see it now!" Luis exclaims, never one to miss out on a tease, the traitor, "he's dizzy, dreamy, head up in the foam! His eyes have got a gleam in them, like there's no one home." 

"Someone get this boy a coastal shelf to mope on!" Lisa instigates, laughter in her eyes. 

"He's moody as a snapper! As sure as a dogfish bites, someone’s made him lose his head!" Marcos' grin is as lopsided as he is, floating above Lance's head, he shoves him away, wondering if he should just retreat. 

"Seriously guys flip off, it's not gonna happen." Lance heaves a larger piece off the side as gently as he can, frowning at the coral beneath, it would take a lot of song and time for these poor things to come back. 

"Come on tell us who the deep-sea hunk is!" Rachel leers at him, eyebrows dancing, behind her Lance glimpses Coran and Allura, one has a look of concern, the other… well Lance can't quite identify Alluras look. 

"There's no deep sea hunk." Lance turns away, seriously debating finding that shark again.

There's a long pause, but Lances hope of them giving up is crushed when Veronicas panicked voice breaks the silence,

"Oh no. Please, please no. Lance please tell me you didn't go and," She cuts herself off, looking around frantically before coming in closer with a low hiss of, "seduce a human?" 

Lance gives an indignant squawk,

"I did not, seduce, anyone!" 

"But there is a human??? Lance, what are you thinking? Liking human stuff is one thing, but this- Lance what are you thinking??" With hands on his shoulders to hold him still, Veronica levels him with a desperate look. 

"Ronis right Lance, the human world is no place for us." Luis, like everyone else, has taken on a serious face. 

And those expectations are back. Those heavy looks, so much weight pressing into his chest, and yet no clue what it is they want from him. What it is they think he needs to do. 'Youre the future, Lance.' 

"I don't know what it is you think is up there Lance, but just take a look around you! Life under the sea is better than anything they got up there." Lisa takes on a lighter tone. 

Lance knows what's coming, knows because he's been told before, has tried to convince himself, but something always comes to remind him why he wants to escape. 

"I mean seriously, what more are you lookin for? Up there they work all day-'' Lance pointedly looks at the debris he's clearing and Marco is quick to continue, "they're slaving away under the sun's hot rays. While we get to float around down here all the time, nice and cool."

Lance wonders what they do in their territory, for all of Lance's collection, it's taken him years of little moments of free time to gather stuff, and honestly half of it was Coran and Romelle gifting him stuff. 

"And you know what they do to fish on land, they're either in a bowl or," Rachel runs a finger along her throat with a harsh click sound, "on the plate. Just imagine what they'd do to us!" 

"Not to mention, they can't possibly beat our rhythm." Luis sports a confident smile, but Lance remembers the song he'd heard on that ship. 

As if on cue however, the reef comes alive with song. Healing waves of energy that quickly distracts the mers before him, and Lance takes his chance and bolts with them none the wiser. 

He heads towards his grotto, needing some peace and quiet before his inevitable summons. He liked the McClain pod, they'd been around as long as he can remember, but they always left him feeling like he was missing something. Not that they weren't missing some major parts to his story too, but Lance didn't want them to know either. 

He enters his grotto with a tired sigh, running on no sleep and brain still too busy and anxious for it to come anytime soon. He takes in his collection, hoping for some comfort or peace of any kind. Anything to stave off what's to come-

"So you've finally returned."

Lance flips around fast enough to make his head spin, there looming in the shadows of the entrance, Triton now glowing with power,

"My. son." 

…

Keith stalks through the halls of the palace, determined to find a ship, or a carriage, something so he can search himself. To find the boy who saved him, the one whose song rings in his head, the one who risked their own life to get him home alive. 

"You aren't supposed to be out of bed yet." 

He turns to see his mother, standing tall and regal, like the Queen she is, in the doorway to the dining hall. She eyes him, the bandage on his head, the scaring mark on his jaw, the unsteady walk of a sailor on land- and a waterlogged man who should probably be resting, maybe.

"I don't need rest, I'm fine." Keith wants to leave it at that, but of course,

"Join me for breakfast." She turns without his answer, not that he could turn her down. 

They sit, eating quietly, but Keith is tense. He knows she wants to say more, but she takes her time, figuring out exactly what she wants to get across. After so many years away, only to return after news of her husband's passing, the two knew very little of interacting with each other. It was Kolivan and Shiro that kept them from having a bigger rift than they did. 

"I don't want you going out there again. You need to be here, preparing for the throne." 

Keith takes a breath, before he'll say something he'll regret,

"The boy who saved my life is out there. I'm going to find him-"

"Keith-"

Keith stands, chair falling behind him,

"I don't want to be king. I never have. I belong on the water-"

She slams her hands on the table, silencing filling the room,

"You are grounded. There will be no sailing, you will stay here and heal." 

He stares at her, the woman who never cared to stay, who left his father to raise him. The woman who knew next to nothing of him, who wanted to trap him to this existence of walls and nothingness. He turns and storms out of the room, heading for the cliffs, anything to get away.  

All he'd ever wanted, as a boy born on a ship but raised on an isolated island, was the open sea and sky, freedom that seemed so far from his reach. He was only able to grasp some semblance of happiness sailing on excursions to learn and trade, his brother- in all that mattered- right beside him. 

And now, his soul tugs again, towards something- not quite new- but foreign in a way he'd never thought of. He's haunted, thinking only of a blurry memory of someone leaning over him, more of a feeling really, and a song he sings. A song  that takes him, to places beyond his wildest dreams, to uncharted waters miles beyond the seas he knows. 

Keith had been sure he was darkness bound, destined to drown at sea and never return home. Then, miraculously, he’s saved, pulled above the stormy seas and all the way to land, before being left alone, to stand on the shoreline while his mind remains lost at sea. He wishes only for him to be found again, so he can stop wondering about who he is, where he’ll be next, and to hear his song from the source rather than this echoing in his head. Someone somehow stronger than the undertow, yet able to glow silhouetted by the rising sun, to return him to land in only a night's time. 

He won’t be able to get over this mystery, something- someone- so intriguing, there was no way he’d give up before it was solved. Somewhere, beyond where man can see, with eyes that outshine the horizon line, where they can face the unknown side by side. Whether on the shoreline where he was left, or where no compass or map can guide him, Keith would find this mystery boy, no one would stop him. It’d be easier, he’s sure, for this boy to find him once again, right where he was left, but good things aren’t always easy are they?

Throw whatever you have at me, wild uncharted waters, he’d face it all.

<<Prev next>>

[risunsky]

I was wondering how long it takes you to complete a drawing? Especially for some of the more complex/ detailed ones, how do you deal with not getting burnt out? Do you work on one piece until it’s complete or do you bounce around and work on multiple projects at once? Also I love your work. I think it’s so gorgeous and really powerfully conveys emotion 🖤

(sorry, it's a long answer again :x) My most complex drawings, such as the remake of the siege of La Rochelle or the one with winged Papa IV, took between 60 and 80 hours to complete. The Spillways one is probably a record-breaker because I had to start from the beginning several times.

It's also the time I need for a traditional A2 painting (like the one I'm planning to do this summer (wink wink) if the heat doesn't knock me out too much).

For simpler things like a portrait alone without background I try not to exceed 10 hours. Like Copia with his face hidden by his hat, or the one where he's holding a Grucifix. The one on the beach looks just as simple on paper and yet I think I spent more time on it, because I did some lineart to lay down certain details and I spent a lot of time refining the textures.

In any case, even for something very simple I rarely go under 6 hours, I consider myself a slow artist which isn't necessarily a problem, unless you want to make a living out of it.

- Avoiding burn-out is a difficult challenge. In 2020 I think I experienced it, it was my first A2 painting, there was a deadline, I was late and it was very important to me. I worked intensely on this big piece, I didn't do anything other than that, stopping only to eat and sleep. At the time I was having a great time, I was really enjoying myself, thinking I was experiencing the 'true passion of art' and I still have really good memories of that period of a few weeks. But once I'd finished I kinda fell apart, I was always tired, did an artblock for several months, it was difficult to get back to normal and it caused me problems for my job. It's thanks to doing ghost fanarts that I've managed to recover. I really don't recommend pushing yourself like that it's not healthy at all.

To avoid this happening again, I impose a schedule on myself. A break every 2 hours where I get up from my chair and walk around a bit. I don't work more than a certain number of hours a day (8~10) and I don't work at weekends. Well, that's the ideal, obviously it's hard to keep. When I get caught up in the enthusiasm of a project I have a bit of trouble controlling myself, it's like an obsession and nothing else matters.

There's also the fact that my interest in a project fades easily. I need to do as much as possible in one go so I don't risk giving up before it's finished. For commission I can work on several projects at once, jumping from one to another alternately, but I really prefer to be able to concentrate on one thing at a time. The more projects I have in the queue, the more scattered my mind becomes and I don't work well in that state.

Thank you so much for your interest! 🖤🖤

[pepperdog131]

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - following a sketchy stranger into random ally’s in New York

We had been walking for a few hours and I was exhausted, but I couldn’t show it. At school, I was as quiet as could be, but here, where I might be getting kidnapped, where someone claims to be like me, I don’t feel too shy. If I admit I’m tired, I risk showing weakness, making me seem more vulnerable to kidnapping. The real reason I’m so quiet, I think, is because if I drew the smallest amount of attention, I risk drawing attention to the burnt sticks, which would raise a lot of questions.

“Can we take a break?” Percy asks. This catches me off guard. This boy isn’t much older than me, probably only a year or two, but for some reason I didn’t expect him to be the one getting tired.

“Um.. sure.”

“Let’s just find somewhere to rest.” We both look around. At this point in time, we are in a town made up mostly of apartments. We keep walking a few blocks until we finally find a store. 

“There’s this mattress store right here.” Percy suggests

“Are you really going to recommend we take a break in a random mattress store?”

“I mean, I did once deal with a rather sadistic mattress store owner, but that was in LA.”

“That’s comforting. Pun intended.” I respond with a semi smile. We go in. 

“Oh, a bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Percy says. Him being gone makes me slightly uneasy, but I can handle myself. A man walks out. I look him up and down. He’s wearing a blue suit. He’s lean and his skin has a slight green tint to it. After all that I’ve learned today, I can’t help but be suspicious, but Percy and I are exhausted and have no where else to go.

“Hi, I’m Crunchy. Welcome to Crunchy’s water beds. How can I help you?”

“Hi, um, me and my friend were just looking for a place to rest for a little while. Would you mind if we did so here?”

“Oh not at all! Make yourself comfortable in this here bed.” He says in a sweet voice while pointing at a bed. 

“Um… okay.” And I sit down.

“Go on, lie down. Can’t rest sitting up.” He prompts. Ok, for the record, you can totally rest sitting up. People can’t generally sleep sitting up, but they could totally rest. 

“I really wou-” 

“No, lie down.” He says with an aggressive tone. I have quite the trouble letting my guard down, but I’m so tired I have to lie down. I lie back. I’ve been lying down for only a few seconds when ropes suddenly grab me. I shout, and almost call for Percy, but then a thought strikes me. At this point my only hope is Percy coming to save me, so if I give him away, I really would be hopeless. 

“Oh, you are too short. We’ll have to fix that.” He says with a small frown. Ok, one, I am not short. Two, what does he mean “fix” my height? “Well then, let’s get started.” All of a sudden the ropes start pulling on me. It starts to hurt. I realize what he meant. He wants to “fix” me by stretching me out!

“Wait!” I shout

“And why should I? What makes you so special?” He retorts. I look down and think. Quite frankly, I can’t think of any reason in his favor to stop. I look back up at him. Behind his shoulder I see something move. I see the bathroom door open and Percy’s head pops out. He sees what’s going on and retreats back into the bathroom. I roll my eyes at this but then remember what’s going on. I look back at Crunchy, and then see another movement behind him. Percy’s back out, but now he has a large bronze sword. Now I just need a distraction.

[uboym]

I’m so tired. I have no way out. I’m trapped, I have no one. I have 3 friends, two of which don’t really care. They just talk to me to fill the space, but its nothing more than that. The one I can really call my friend.. I’m not even sure if he loves me. I can feel his resentment grow towards me every day. I’m sure he’d leave if the situation was better.

I cant provide anything he needs.. I’ve bleed dry on income. I cant please him sexually. I’m almost certain if the circumstances were better, he wouldve dropped me like a rock. I know he wants to. I wish he would. I cant imagine what it’s like to have me tied around their ankles, dragging them deeper into whatever shit this is. I cant make anyone happy, I dont make anyone laugh…

Nothing makes me happy anymore. Not new sights, not new things, not drawing, not gaming. The only company I have is from comment sections online. I have my cats, but even I know they’re not here forever. My best friend is bound to die in the next few years, if that. I dont even have family, its beyond superficial. My siblings dont talk to me, and my parents only want something to do with me when its to yell at me or try and convince me that my partner is seeking to milk me dry. As if thats what they havent been doing to me my whole life.

Say I cut them out, like everyone tells me to. Then what? I have no one, after my friends drop me, too? I’m 26, theres no time left for me. I’m too old for most people to consider me as a “new friend”, and all old friends.. the bridges have been burnt to ash. No amount of apologies or time could ever repair them. The best it’ll get is water flowing downstream, no bridge for it to flow under. How many friendships do I have to lose until I’m considered a lost cause?

No matter what I do, I’m chained to misery. I know I’ve done bad things, I can’t complain. This is the life I’ve made for myself since the very start, I don’t think theres a fix. The only comfort for me is within myself. I just wish I had someone, anyone to talk to. I’m tired of tough love, it’s not fair. I just want a friend. I just want a fucking hug. I just wish I could wake up tomorrow and be normal. I cant stand being myself, and no matter how much I try to change, it’s never good enough. No amount of meds or therapy can change me into someone deserving of love. I just want things to end.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Pool Adventures

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I wasn't sure what to expect when I came out... there could have been a work of art on the concrete or what I got which are some very well done scribbles.

I tell him dinner is in the oven and he hands me a triceratops.

I'm not sure exactly how to hold it because the lake is done from above and the trees and mountain, no wait, it's a volcano, are done from the side.

I decide it doesn't matter.

He has the T-rex in one hand and is flying the pterodactyl around in the other.

"So what's the plan? I don't want you to eat me," I tease.

"No, that's mean. I won't eat you, Emmett."

"Good. Maybe we should be friends and go on an adventure."

Aren't we already?

"Okay."

He's looking to me and I have not watched a dino movie in quite awhile.

Um, a mission.

A dino-friendly mission.

"How about we go searching for something?"

"Like what?"

He perches his pterodactyl in the tree and walks his t-rex over towards me.

"How about a special tree with a surprise?"

I grab the same colors he's used for his other tree and make a new one a few feet away.

"It has two trunks, that's how we'll find it and a treasure box inside."

"I love it. There should be a river to cross," he says, drawing one between us and the goal.

We've found the treasure box and I've given him a riddle to solve when my phone beeps.

"Dinner time, let me check on it and then we need to finish our adventure quickly so we can eat."

"Okay, we can do it."

He's so excited... I love his Finn voice.

He doesn't sound child-like really, even though his words sometimes are.

He's not faking a voice or anything.

He just sounds happy and excited and he's thinking hard about the riddle, I can tell.

I pull the chops out of the oven, cover them with a towel and put the veg in the microwave.

"I'm thinking about the riddle, Emmett," he says when I come back out

"But I need a hint."

It's a good one, one my mother taught me ages ago.

A hint, eh?

"Okay, it's usually white or brown."

Too much of one, really but dinner is ready and I know he wants to solve it.

"So something you can't use until you break it," he repeats.

"Something white and brown."

"Yep. White or brown," I stress.

"It doesn't change colors, it only comes in two. Wait, they have blue ones sometimes now, I don't know. At the store they come in two."

"Another hint," he says.

"You buy it at a store?"

"Yep. And dinosaurs had them."

I'm actually amused at that one and the look on his face is priceless.

"Dinosaurs don't have stores, Emmett."

"I know."

He laughs and jumps up.

"Eggs. You break an egg to eat it and you buy it at the store and dinosaurs lay eggs."

"You got it. Let's go eat dinner and then we can swim afterwards."

"What's our prize?"

"I'll give that to you after we swim, grasshopper. Looking forward to it."

I get a wry smile in return.

After dinner on his new plate we get changed.

I spray his shoulders and he does his nose and cheeks because even though there is no way he can get burnt right now, I refuse to risk it.

He complains but does it anyway.

I bring out some drinks and the lube because I definitely plan on taking him out here once it's dark and blow up the two extra toys.

He jumps right in and uses two to float, one under his knees and one behind his head.

"Feels great, Emmett. Come in with me."

"Rather come in you," I mumble just loud enough for him to hear me before jumping in.

"Naughty Emmett."

"It's not my fault you make me crazy, Finnegan."

We swim around for awhile, play a game of Marco Polo, play a weird net-less version of beach volleyball and then he hops out and opens his bracelets.

He puts three together and makes me a necklace, does the same for himself and then asks me to put a bracelet on each of his wrists.

"We look very snazzy."

He decides to repurpose his bracelets as dive toys and spends fifteen minutes collecting them from the bottom of the pool over and over.

When he's tired I put them back on for him but don't let him escape.

I pull him against me and hoist him up and he wraps his legs around me and his arms around my shoulders.

"Hi Emmett."

I answer him with a kiss, trailing down his neck until he giggles and then stops giggling and starts breathing hard.

"I'm going to fuck you out here in the open. What do you think about that, Finnegan?"

"You... what?"

"I..." I repeat slowly.

"Am going to fuck you out here, bent over that table. I'm going to muffle your screams with a towel so the neighbors don't hear you begging for more or begging me to stop, either way works for me, babe."

I sneak my hand right down the back of his trunks and tease his bud with my fingertip.

"How does that sound?"

"Oh. I... I think it sounds fun, Emmett."

"Good."

He hops out and I'm right behind him.

I drape one towel over the table to cushion him a bit and he folds one up for under his head.

As soon as I get his trunks yanked down I bend him forward, step out of mine and sink to my knees so I can work him open.

He yelps and then sighs as I caress him with my tongue.

A few minutes later I'm sinking into him, working him open with my cock instead.

It's much less gentle but he's taking me beautifully and managing to stay fairly quiet.

I reach around and stroke him and he's hard and almost as desperate as I am and I have gotten over my fear of asking for too much when he's been working.

No, he's right, he needs this and so do I.

He comes right after I do, squeezing me hard as he shudders.

We both stumble inside and through a quick shower and soon we're in bed.

His head is on my shoulder as I try to read one-handed.

After our chapter, he kisses my neck.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Finnegan. Think you can sleep now?"

"Yeah. I was up so early. This morning feels like yesterday. I don't know how to explain it."

I know exactly what he means, it feels very distant and I guess it is.

Physically and mentally.

"I understand. Get some rest, we'll have a good day tomorrow."

"I can't wait and Emmett?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, lots."

He's waiting for me to say something but I'm sort of choked up and having a hard time breathing.

"Love you too, darling."

"Night night."

"Sleep tight, Finnegan."

[keefwho]

February 07 - 2024 Wednesday

11:17pm

4/10

Im getting tired of writing the same thing every day, I'm falling into a mindless cycle. I'm going to try and report only what sticks out or actually meant something and on top of that, I want to list the things that made me happy today.

This morning I chopped up my celery and bell peppers to be frozen. Breakfast was oatmeal that I made very simply and successfully for the first time. I also had a can of beanie weenies warmed up by the heater for funsies. I REALLY did not feel like drawing today and I had a day to spare so I tried to make a plan where I wouldn't do commissions but would work on something else instead. I started drawing my own ideas and then Daisy asked if I was going to stream so she could watch something during her lunch break so I did. I stopped streaming when I had to use the bathroom sometime after she left. I wanted to continue work and maybe even get to my workout today but I didn't have it in me so I goofed around watching Henry and trying to figure out what to do. I ordered rice a roni cups on amazon again and had to pay the shipping cost since I don't have prime anymore. Hopefully they get here in tact. I started riling myself up out of boredom and took care of myself which I sort of regret because I did that instead of my workout. Around lunch time I felt stressed and didn't want to eat but I made a packet of soup and nothing else. Since the request guy didn't get back to me, I did other stuff until he did. I got a lot done in the afternoon like I planned and ended up working the most out of any other day this month so far so even though this morning fell apart, at least I did something in the end. After working I felt bored and lonely and was in my head so I curled up with a stream. Daisy called shortly after and we chilled. We watched Markiplier and then got on VRchat briefly. We were trying to find things to do and went back to the 3000 questions world to play that. She got off and I played Kingdom Hearts a couple hours for her.

~~~

Today I was burnt out and didn't know what to do about it. I tried altering my schedule but it didn't help very much. I was stressed and felt bad about not being the productive person I want myself to be. Maybe I already lost touch with that work/non-work mindset dynamic. It might have been easier to stop considering how I feel during work time like I've been doing. Other than that, I watched a short video telling me something that I already knew: that my obsessive/problem solving thinking is a way for me to preoccupy my mind to avoid thoughts that might hurt me. But today I realized that I didn't do that in the past when I wasn't aware of or wasn't working on "fixing" myself. I had my issues but I also lived in a sort of bliss at least occasionally. Now I quite literally never stop thinking about how to move forward and make myself better.

Things that made me happy today: -Watching Squeex stream -Getting work done after all -Daisy calling me a good friend -Answering questions with Daisy -Getting a little kissy from Daisy -Finding Dalmatians in Kingdom Hearts

[chalk-reverie]

Pain things

At the end of my college chapter here are my thoughts in my art journey and maybe my life in general.

I am not a good writer, but I will try to express myself here transparently.

Internship thoughts

I was insecure, jealous of my peers.

My works in character design are always rejected, or yet rather too many revision, which is alright until I keep on comparing myself to my classmates. I notice their work was always accepted, mine was rejected. I know we all lack in study but I felt insecure, since I was static during the pandemic. I hate that other people are better than I but I know myself, I am not working hard enough.

I also felt motivated to study and work more after this internship since school lacks the creativity part, anatomy and basic structure of art. I want to grind, to reach and satisfy myself. I want to create more! I have so much ideas now that my school wasn't supportive on those ideas that I have.

I recognize my lack of practice and self-discipline. I then to go happy go lucky or overestimate myself when I lack the accuracy on drawing things from real life. I get lazy, and easily tired. I am more excited on other things, especially playing games. Because it is easier to do that and socialize than doing what I really want to do; express myself through art.

I am afraid to express what I love. To the world, to my mom, to myself. I want to do it, but I just have too many excuses.

I am honestly, need to learn more.

Thesis Era

I was burnt out. I run my imagination wild again, not looking at the reality that I am facing. During my thesis

I was proud. I told myself, maybe this leadership, is what I fit in, and try that again. I told myself that I can do it. But it was all in my head, I lack communication, and expect to much on the future me.

I am a hoax. A coward, I tried my best, I said, but I really don't.

I am angry. And sad, for people who I suppose to trust with, but it was I, who's only believing.

I was hurt. I cried, felt betrayed once again. Ano pa nga ba aasahan ko sa kanila?

Retreat Era

In Calaruega, where the figure of God Transfiguration: a great change of form or appearance. especially : a change that beautifies, glorifies, or makes more spiritual.

It really did change, comparing to the first time I was there.

Before, I was disconnected with myself, and kept distance with others. But now, I felt disconnected with other people, while I am much interconnected with myself.

I also saw, the difference between me first and the second me who visited this area. Four years, I really did change a lot. I was more willing to forgive myself, and much more reflection than before. Although the hatred was there, I see the world with much more light. Before I was more focus on myself, but now, I was seeing the bigger picture, myself, to others and to my shadow self. But I have a lot of work to do, and I am tired, so tired. The tiredness has never gone away.

My Appearance

I still don't have the confidence. But always want to cut my hair. To cut ties with my mother. I don't want to see her traumas, nor listen to her childhood fears. Their arguments. I don't want to hear it. She scarred me enough during my childhood days. Now that I am an adult, I don't want to hear your advices when they themselves couldn't do it. Hypocrites. I am not relying on my clothes, my appearance... Never. I am tired of fitting on what was pretty on your eyes and other peoples mouth's praises on me.

I AM NOT WEAK!!

My Sexuality

Was r**ed by my peers. They don't understand and I did not try to explain. Melbin keeps making fun of it, insensitive of it. I just have to roll my eyes on him, who doesn't give a fuck about understanding just one bit about it.

Sad, my close friends doesn't understand it as well. Well, I don't really know how to explain it. There is no safe space to talk about it, I am afraid, that my parents would know. I don't want them to know, so I keep quite about it. Like a caged bird, I am afraid to fly.

Low-key talk

I- would like to share one bit. I like, girls, a lot than men. I have terrible experience with men so I could not imagine being happy with them. For other people yes, and I kept saying they are lucky. They are seen, as for who they are. Unlike mine, who was seen for a pretty body, pretty face, the outside. Boys like that, my fucking big butt, my lumps, and not for who I am. My PAIN, my ANGER, MY SCARRED SOUL. No boy wants that, a broken cry-baby nonbinary girlson. No man would understand my pain, or even recognize my insanity. A girl might be. I have my trust on girls, even they broke my heart so many times. They don't want my body, they want to see me, as me. At first they don't want to pry, because they don't know me yet. But when they did, it's like a whole universe expands, and all of my burdens are lifted. I felt that so many times. Soulfully. It just feels so right. I don't know my sexuality yet, I haven't dated anyone, nor talk about it in real life. If ever, I'd like to open my heart once, because I only want to live my life once, but willing to die all over again for anyone who see me as who I am.

[sueske]

Do you consider Boruto canon? It's not even written by Kishimoto (written by Ukyō Kodachi, ilustrated by Mikio Ikemoto and "supervised" by Masashi Kishimoto). Why do you think Kishimoto has so little interest in Boruto? If he didn't want to do all the drawing work he could at least kept writing the story... Do you think he was already satisfied with his work with Naruto and didn't want to drag the story himself or maybe he's too uncomfortable about how the relationships end up, being that the starting point in Boruto??

Do you consider Boruto canon? It's not even written by Kishimoto (written by Ukyō Kodachi, ilustrated by Mikio Ikemoto and "supervised" by Masashi Kishimoto).

I consider anything entirely written by Kishimoto to be canon. So unfortunately chapter 700, gaiden, and the Boruto movie fall into that category. But there’s a clear distinction between Kishimoto’s Boruto and Kodachi’s Boruto. It's only the former I consider canon.

Why do you think Kishimoto has so little interest in Boruto? If he didn't want to do all the drawing work he could at least kept writing the story...

I think Kishimoto was already very tired from 15 years of working on Naruto continuously. He didn’t get to spend a lot of time with family either, so that’s why he wanted a break before coming back and resuming his manga life (samurai 8). He was burnt out. 

But besides that, Kishimoto never wanted Boruto. That much is clear because for it to work the characters are like that. There’s no resolution to the problems of their world and the main characters aren’t even happy. They didn’t get to fulfil their dreams (except the women ig who got their man in the end). However, within the confines of Boruto, Kishimoto still tried to keep the characters in character as much as possible in their situations. Kishimoto himself also said that he considered the Boruto movie the final conclusion to Naruto LOL the implications of that alone says enough about his thoughts on the matter.

Do you think he was already satisfied with his work with Naruto and didn't want to drag the story himself or maybe he's too uncomfortable about how the relationships end up, being that the starting point in Boruto??

Kishimoto had to fight tooth and nail for some of his ideas, and some were were not fit for the shonen genre so didn’t even make the cut. Imagine creating a story and being told you couldn’t do things the way you wanted, and had your story and characters conformed to fit certain standards. It’d be extremely frustrating. So, I don’t know if he was completely satisfied. In an interview I remember he said that pretty much everything he wanted to put in the manga he did, but we know how Kishimoto’s like in interviews. 

As for the relationships, it's so clear he doesn't like them. He knew that Boruto would be a thing while he was still writing Shippuden and what did he do? Instead of building SS and NH up, or at least giving them decent moments, he undermined each ship at every opportunity he got. Even until the very end.

"You guys think SNS are brothers? Here, Sasuke will do the brotherly forehead tap to cherry blossom girl, after I have SNS explicitly say that they're not brothers."

"Hinata confessed to Naruto? Who cares... I won't have Naruto acknowledge that at all. I guess I can make him hold her hand over Neji's body, with an uncomfortable expression on his face (that'll get the editors off my back... I'll blow Naruto's arm off anyways so he can 'hold hands' with Sasuke). Oh, and just in case that isn't clear enough, I'll also make Naruto tell his dad that he hasn't found a woman, period. Yup, solid plan."

Even after all that, in gaiden he still showcases how bad their relationships are. SNS are never home. Both their children have daddy issues. Sasuke avoids cherry blossom girl and Naruto sleeps on the couch or at the table next to Hinata. Could you ever imagine Naruto falling asleep out of boredom when next to Sasuke? Absolutely not. They’re always so animated when they’re with each other. And of course Kishimoto has SNS meet up with each other secretly, smile at each other, parent together, etc. Has Naruto say that he'll drop everything to leave with Sasuke for an undefined period of time. 

It's almost as if to say if SNS were together things would be very different. And isn't that what Kishimoto intended? For shinobi, including Sasuke, to cooperate with one another? But not like in Boruto. Which is why Kishimoto had Sasuke throw those words back in Naruto's face in gaiden. 

Kishimoto said he always had the ending scene of Naruto visualised - where Naruto and Sasuke reconciled. That's where he wanted it to end, and that's where it should've ended. On the whole, I think Boruto is a good example of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ Kishimoto’s certainly written it that way.

[narraboths]

lena hugging her beefy kryptonian from behind resting her cheek between kara's shoulder blades when aron when

[read on Ao3]

Some days, it’s like this:

It’s early in the morning, a quiet, hazy hour. 

The pair of them move idly around in Kara’s apartment, basking in the gentle warmth of the sunshine streaming into the open space. Kara’s hunched over the stove, still in the loose t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs she’s worn to bed, humming to herself as she’s flipping pancakes. The hair on the back of her head is sticking up a little, messy from sleep and even messier from Lena’s morning ministrations. The pancakes smell a little burnt.

As far as images of domestic bliss go, it’s all rather mundane and unglamorous.

Lena’s utterly, hopelessly in love with every minute detail of it.

She’s always in awe of Kara, her towering, magnetic, just-stepped-out-of-a-heroic-tale kind of presence, but loves watching Kara like this, cozy and chipper and all hers. It’s the kind of ordinariness Lena’s never thought she’d have in her life, the kind that’s been only more ridiculous to imagine considering Kara’s day-job. But here they are, in the comfort of each other’s presence, Kara burning their meals and Lena watching her committed fumbling and thinking she’s the luckiest woman in the universe.

This is what draws her closer and closer until she’s pressed against Kara’s back, arms wrapped tightly around Kara’s middle. It draws a low, rumbling laugh from her wife that reverberates in Lena’s very core.

“Breakfast’s almost ready,” Kara says. She shifts a little on her feet to lean into Lena’s embrace, and Lena delights in the feel of every minute flex of her muscles. She nuzzles her face between Kara’s shoulder-blades, snaking a hand under Kara’s shirt to palm at her abs, tickling the coarse hairs of her happy trail.

“Are you planning on distracting me?” Kara asks, and Lena knows she’s smiling now, bright and ever so slightly smug. She nips at her back in response, and Kara yelps, indignant: “Hey, no nibbling!”

“I know you can multitask,” Lena drawls. Kara lets out a theatrical, I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-deal-with-this huff, and Lena’s already pressing a kiss to the same spot with a giggle, gentle, soothing, her tongue instinctively wrapping itself around a string of much-used Kryptonian words next: “I love you.”

She feels the muscles in Kara’s body go slack the second the words leave her mouth, feels her truly sink into her arms, a quiet, loving surrender. She twists around so she can wrap her arms around Lena too, slotting their bodies together, and Lena tips her head back, eyes fluttering shut, already anticipating the soft kiss Kara bends down to press to her lips.

“I love you too,” Kara breathes into her mouth. Lena drinks the words like nectar, sweet, intoxicating: she kisses back, sloppy and overeager, tugs on Kara’s bottom lip and giggles into her mouth when one of her wife’s hands expectably finds its way to Lena’s ass.

Then something starts smelling decidedly burnt, and they break apart just so, with Kara twisting around and yanking the unfortunate remnants of their breakfast off the stove. Lena’s arms are still wrapped around her middle, her face pressed against Kara’s back, shaking with laughter as Kara huffs and puffs.

“I was so looking forward to making you breakfast just once!”

“I appreciate the intent, darling.” Lena tickles Kara’s side, pressing one last kiss to her back. “Here’s your excuse to grab some sticky buns from Noonan’s again.”

There are worse ways to spend one’s morning than sitting in Kara’s lap, hand-feeding her Noonan’s best pastry item and taking any excuse to kiss off the sugary mess it leaves on her wife’s lips, after all.

–

Some days, it’s like this: 

It’s late night, the sky outside already inky black and Lena doesn’t even really notice when Kara’s touched down on her balcony. 

Sometimes, Kara likes to play coy, leaning back against the railing and eyeing her through the glass with a little smile until Lena realizes she’s there and rushes out into her arms. Other days, when the world has gotten too loud and too much and Kara just wants to be near her, she’s happy to sink silently into the background, face turned towards the city’s skyline, pensive and quiet, ears attuned to Lena’s heartbeat.

Those days, Lena rises from her chair and pushes the balcony door open and stalks out, knowing that Kara can hear her approach. She moves slowly, letting Kara decide how to react to her presence – turning with a tired smile and drawing Lena into her arms, or staying still and silent until Lena reaches her.

(It would be wrong to say Lena prefers the latter. There’s something about it, though, that muted, timid dance, like searching for bruises that need to be tended to after a fight. There’s something so dear to her in the way she has to coax Kara to let the weight of the world fall from her shoulders for a little while, to surrender her armor and let herself lean on someone else.)

Kara doesn’t turn around.

It starts with the merest touch then, Lena’s fingers brushing against Kara’s shoulder. A single point of connection, a delicate hint. Kara doesn’t pull away, she never does – and Lena’s hand can slowly start to wander, fingertips dragging softly along the hard line of Kara’s shoulder, until they meet the nape of her neck.

Kara hums a little and the tension breaks, dissolves with a startling suddenness. She’s leaning into Lena’s touch now, a silent assent, and Lena draws closer and closer until their bodies are pressed together, her arms wrapping around Kara’s middle, holding, protecting.

“Long day, my love?”

There’s only a weary sigh in response, the tender burden of Kara’s body heavy in her arms, so Lena does what they usually choose to do when words fail them. Her lips can only press against the smooth, cold material of the cape and the collar of the suit now, impossible for Kara to really feel. Lena kisses her anyways. She clings to Kara tighter, tighter, until Kara’s head drops against her shoulder and a hand slowly covers her own, and Lena, tiptoeing, can nuzzle against Kara’s face, pressing a small kiss to her cheek. “I’ve got you.”

–

Some days, it’s like this: 

Kara’s warm and pliant beneath her, spread out on the bed. Her face is pressed into a pillow, arms wrapped around it so tightly that her muscles are straining with the hold. It doesn’t quite hide the rosy blush on her cheeks, though, nor does it stifle the low, huffy whimpers that she tries to choke back with every languid thrust of Lena’s hips.

It is an exquisite thing to watch her wife come undone like that, bit by bit.

Lena’s intent on savoring every second of it.

The muscles on Kara’s back tense when Lena runs her hand down the line of her spine, then relax again when she gently scratches her nails over them. Kara mumbles something into the pillow, the indistinct words turning into a broken moan when Lena jogs her hips again, harder, deeper. She does it again and again, hands braced against the small of Kara’s back, delighting in the way Kara’s eyes flutter shut, the sweet, beautiful sounds of her pleasure–

Until Kara bites down her lip and buries her face fully into the pillow again.

“Oh, don’t do that, darling,” Lena chides. She drapes herself over Kara’s back, nipping at her shoulder, the crook of her neck. She gets a low yelp in response, Kara bucking up against her and Lena giggles, stretching out a little so that her lips ghost the shell of Kara’s ear as she whispers: “I want to hear you.”

She punctuates her words with a forceful roll of her hips. This time, there is a moan, loud and unabashed and sinful enough to reverberate in Lena’s chest and settle deep in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs into Kara’s shoulder. Her voice feels hoarse, startlingly rough. Kara’s cheeks bloom even redder, and her mouth moves, but the words are low, unintelligible.

“Can’t hear you, baby,” Lena coos, teasing.

Kara grunts. She wets her lips and slides her hand over the covers until it meets Lena’s own, linking their fingers together and squeezing ever so gently.

“Harder,” she pants, and a heartbeat later, in that tone of needy gruffness that Lena could never deny: “Please.”

For one long, excruciating second, Lena doesn’t move. (She likes it, sometimes, to hear Kara really beg, to drive her to the edge before seeing her surrender. But not now, not this time, not when it’s so sweet to give Kara all she asks for.) She drops her head, and presses a small, tender kiss to Kara’s back.

“As you wish.”

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

Okay okay okay

The Marcus, Percy, Penny and Oliver friendship (with appearances from Cedric)

These dumbasses break the rules all the time they just know how to not get caught

They snuck into hogsmeade in their first year by accident and just never stopped going

They have snuck into the hospital wing(?) become of quidditch accidents or Penny and Percy were experimenting with spells and potions

Before Cedric was a prefect they would sneak him into the prefects bathroom because they knew he would absolutely love it

Marcus and Oliver accidentally found the kitchens and now all four of them are great friends with the elves and never stopped going

They all will wonder around past curfew or sneak out of their houses during the summer to meet up

Penny and Percy refuse to just read about spells and potions. These nerds love to experiment and it’s ended up blowing up in their faces so many times

Penny had to wear a wig for months because half her hair got burnt off and she wanted to know if there would be side affects if she let it grow naturally

Percy had glowing eyes for a week once and it was a pain for the four of them to hide it

They have both ended up with so many broken bones

Oliver walked in on an experiment once and both had to tackle him since it was about to explode

Marcus has so many before and after pictures for black mail

Marcus and Oliver are actually great friends when it’s not quidditch season and when it is they have to be separated

Percy out right picked Oliver up and walked away with him because he was about to tackle Marcus

Penny has threatened to spell certain parts of them if they don’t behave

Marcus and Oliver both ended up with detention for weeks and nearly kicked off their teams because the fighting got so bad their 3rd (they had a fight during the summer and the tension was higher during the season because of it)

Oliver and Percy get matching tattoos when they find out Oliver is going to be a professional player and get drunk

Marcus was there and was laughing the whole time

Penny won’t talk to them for three days because they went without her

All three are threatened by Percy to never tell his family

Oliver loves his and starts to get a few more over the years

Penny and Percy always wanted to work at the ministry but other always knew it wasn’t perfect

They actually got into a fight with Oliver and Marcus about in when Voldy first returned

Penny had to sit them down and explain that they don’t trust Dumbledore and they aren’t sure if it’s true

But they won’t completely take it out of the equation but it’s important that they get the ministry to trust them so that they can help those who need it when he really comes back

Percy and Penny both apologize to them when they find out he really is back but they stay working there because it won’t be easy but they have to help where they can

Marcus disappears for awhile and none of them are sure if he’s on the run from his family or became a death eater in a attempt to help them and protect them

Oliver doesn’t work for the Order but instead for a much smaller and quiet group and he sends them information from Penny and Percy

When Percy leaves/is kicked out from his home

He goes to Oliver first and then the others come over

There’s a lot of crying

Then a lot of yelling

And then a lot of hugging

They actually have gotten into some weird and at times dangerous situations

Percy accidentally ends up great friends with Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey. They let him in on a bunch of old hogwarts secrets and it’s great

Oliver and Percy once set their room on fire and Penny will not let it go

Marcus ‘accidentally’ flooded the prefect bathroom

All four of them taught themselves and Cedric defense against the dark arts because they shed they had terrible teachers until Remus

You know who the stairs move? Well Penny fell through once and Percy barley caught her and both were screaming because the stairs were still moving and they thought she was going to get squished

Percy actually forced Oliver to try out for the quidditch team and dragged him out for them because Oliver was scared

When Penny and Oliver introduced Percy and Marcus to muggle things they always took delight in tricking them. Many soda cans have exploded

One time when Flying Oliver grabbed Percy who was grabbed by Penny and then all three of them were in the air screaming because Oliver had started to slip off from the weight

Marcus had to grab his broom and help Oliver get back on his broom

Cedric was there and laughing the entire time

Percy actually stress bakes and cooks and Marcus loves it

But Marcus didn’t bother to tell anyone he was allergic to strawberries and then they had to take him to the wing because he ate a strawberry cupcake

“It looked good!” Was his defense

As I said, they are dumbasses who are best friends

So Penny and Percy dated before breaking up when they realized they’re better as friends

Marcus and Penny are so tired when they figure out that Percy and Oliver are in love

When Marcus comes back in the middle of the war and finds out they aren’t together he buys Penny a bottle of fire whiskey because she’s had to deal with it alone

Penny can’t cook at all and when she tried she nearly burnt down the kitchen

Oliver once accidentally ate broom polish because he wasn’t paying attention

Marcus becomes a movie nerd once Penny and Oliver show he and Percy movies

Percy ends up quoting yoda a lot because it annoys the rest of them

When they first meet Cedric Penny out right takes one look at him and nods and says “this one is ours”

Percy has to explain that they can’t just claim first years

Oliver was the one who actually helped Cedric train for becoming a seeker

Marcus doesn’t let anyone bully Cedric

None of them can sing at all but that doesn’t mean they don’t try

Percy can actually play a bunch of instruments and Marcus is good at piano

Oliver doesn’t care but he can dance

Penny can do none of that and has broken a toe dancing and snapped a flute in half

The other three are very fearful of her strength

Penny can draw and she makes glass art

Percy is actually good at sports like he’s average but he doesn’t like to do them. Well he does but only one

He likes swimming

Penny was actually a quidditch player (thank you @quidditch-myths for this idea) and she use to do track. Sometimes she still runs but not as much

Marcus is weirdly good at tap dancing and none of the understand why

That’s all for now but I will make more of these

[shurisneakers]

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).  big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights​ for this specific imagery 

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado. 

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right. 

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch. 

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation. 

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

evilkneival123@gmail.com just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song. 

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.  

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries. 

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

__

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons. 

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him. 

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough. 

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second. 

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?” 

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red. 

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles. 

A small smirk makes its way onto your face. 

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there. 

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them. 

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground. 

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder. 

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats. 

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand. 

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.  

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under. 

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place.  He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it. 

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt. 

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then. 

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower. 

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place. 

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them. 

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.” 

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine. 

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack. 

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door. 

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind. 

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel. 

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. 

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist. 

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest. 

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.” 

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment. 

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind. 

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.” 

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing. 

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this. 

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Family pt6

Summary: (Y/n) after decades of keeping her distance has finally found herself tangled up with the Mikealsons again. This time in small Mystic Falls. Hopefully she can reunite the family she once knew.

Warning: It’s the ending

A/n: really struggled guys to get this story done and I’m burnt out but it’s here it’s the end. I’ll do more for Elijah that can tie into this if you want but jeezus ima need a break. Love him love the character, but this story didn’t really have an ending so I was just galavanting by my bootstraps here.

“(Y/n), time to get up” Elijah’s voice softly said, drawing me out of my sleep.

I slowly set up in bed.

He smiled and bent down to kiss my head. “Now please let's get up and get ready for the day. I already sent the Salvatore’s their invitation for tonight.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? Klaus will be furious.”

“I’m tired of Niklaus doing this to our family. If he had just kept us out of those boxes, this would have never happened. I may be helping him now, but I’ve only been doing so for your plan. Now it’s time we finish it and leave. The Salvatore’s won’t bother with Mikael once we’re gone.”

“Ok, then I’m in.”

“Soon as it’s over we’ll leave and start the life you deserve.”

“I'm happy wherever you are.” He smiled again, this time leaning down to actually kiss me.

He pulled back, “Come one, let's get up, we have to prepare for tonight's dinner.”

“You should have led with that, you know I love throwing a good party.” I smiled and stood up, walking towards the shower to get ready. “Are you coming?” I asked him teasingly. He smiled, chasing after me as I laughed.

I set up the final decorations on the table with the food. Elijah and Klaus finally joined me downstairs. Elijah looking dapper as always and Klaus looking slightly annoyed.

I smiled and gave Elijah a kiss on the cheek, and Klaus moaned. “God, I forgot how irritating you two are. I prefer when you’re fighting, it’s much more interesting.”

“It’s only been one day, Niklaus?”

“Yet I’m already nausea.”

Elijah ignored his brother and turned back to me. “They will be here soon. You should probably go back upstairs.”

“You sure you don’t want me down here?”

“Yes, I need you to take care of what we talked about.” I nodded and left, I waited until Klaus wasn't looking and headed downstairs to the basement.

I had stashed enough blood bags down here to feed one vampire for a year. I hoped it was enough. As soon as I heard the front door open, I took out each dagger from the three siblings. Time for a family reunion.

It was getting more and more frustrating sitting here listening to my brother bicker with the Salvatore's. Like these brothers would let Klaus leave with Elena, but we need the last coffin back. It wouldn’t be long now until (y/n) could bring my siblings upstairs.

“So Elijah, it seems your lovely wife has gone missing, wouldn’t happen to know where we could find her?” Damon asked.

“(Y/n)? Why would I know where she is?” I smiled.

“Oh come on, we know you took her, I’m surprised you haven’t used her in bargaining yet or are you just saving her for yourself to get revenge for betraying your family?”

“I would never hurt her. Not even if she did betray my family.”

Klaus smiled, “I think it’s time we wrap this dinner up now. So do we have a deal, Stefan?”

The younger Salvatore offered Niklaus his hand but smiled, “no deal.” Niklaus in a rage snapped his hand and pushed him towards the fireplace. Damon was going to cut it, but I held him back.

“Now Damon, go and fetch my last coffin or Stefan gets it. Go with him, brother, keep him honest.”

I walked Damon out to the front of the house, but stopped before we left. “I would leave, go get my brother's coffin. I have business to attend to.”

“You don’t want to come with me? What if I just walk out and go destroy the coffin or something.”

“I don’t care. I’m tired of Niklaus games, and I’m ending them tonight. You may go, I promise no harm will come to your brother.”

I smiled walking into the dinning room as Klaus and Stefan were fighting. I had left Elijah downstairs with his siblings. Our plan was still in place, and it was time for my dramatic entrance.

“Now Klaus, we treat our guests with more respect than this. Show some manners.” He laughed as realization struck Stefan.

“Of course you're here.” I didn’t bother with a response.

“You’re just in time, we just sent Elijah off with Damon to retrieve my last coffin.”

“Not so fast, brother.” Elijah walked back in, Damon still with him.

Damon’s eyes went wide when he saw me. “(Y/n)? What the hell? I thought they kidnapped you.”

“Oh shut it Damon, it’s obvious. She was helping them the whole time, just to get the coffins back.” “What can I say?” I smiled as I joined Elijah at his side, taking his hand, “always and forever.”

“I thought you two weren’t even married anymore?”

“We’ve had our fair share of split ups over the years, but when I heard he was in mystic falls and you two were thinking of doing something as stupid as bringing Mikael back, I figured I needed to get over it and come back.”

“Why haven’t you left yet, brother?” Klaus interrupted.

“Now where are your manners Niklaus we haven’t even had dessert yet?” He said, holding out two of the daggers on a silver platter.

“What have you done?”

“I’ve learned after all this time not to trust your lies, Niklaus. Nothing ever changes with you. We’re doing this on my terms now.” I turn to see Kol walking from behind us. Klaus seems to panic as he realizes what is happening.

“Kol,” he says pleadingly.

“Longtime brother.”

Klaus’s turns to leave, but Finn runs in and swoops up one of the daggers, stabbing it through Klaus’s hand. He screams, but makes a run for it in the other direction. Where Rebekah is waiting with the last dagger. She stabs him straight in the gut.

I nod my head at the Salvatore's. “You two are free to go.” They quickly leave before we change our minds, Damon giving me one last betrayed look. “This is family business.” I say as the siblings continue to gang up on Klaus.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Nik.” Rebekah said, admiring a vase before smashing it on the wall.

“It was supposed to be for all of us, home. So none of us would have to be alone anymore.”

“None of us will be.” Elijah said, taking my hand and leading us to the door.

“You're staying behind.”

“We’re leaving you, Nik, right after I kill that doppelgänger wench. Then you will be alone. Always and forever.” I held back my guilt, knowing how Klaus felt at this moment. Being turned out by your family, losing his ever so precious hybrids, but he’s had it coming now for centuries.

“If you run, I will hunt all of you down.” He said through gritted teeth.

I finally stepped up, “Then you’ll have become your worst fear, Mikael.”

“I’m the hybrid! I can’t be killed! I have nothing to fear from any of you.” He cursed.

“You will when we have that coffin.”

We had begun to leave, Klaus still standing in anger and self-pity, when the front door opened. A beautiful long-haired viking woman waiting. I had never met her before, but I could see it in her face, and I’m the details of all of her children. This was mama Mikaelson.

She calmly passed by us to reach Klaus, gently placing her hand on his cheek. Klaus hung his head in shame. Everyone else was too shocked to speak.

“Look at me. Do you know why I’m here?”

“You’re here to kill me.”

“Niklaus, you are my son, and I am here to forgive you.” She turned to look at her other four children. “I want us all to be a family again.”

I waited outside on the porch, admiring the cold night. Elijah came up behind me to wrap his arms around me. “We don’t have to stay, you know.”

“Oh course we do, it's your mother.”

“You know Niklaus, something will just go wrong, one of us will be betrayed and someone will end up in a box.” He placed his chin on my shoulder as I leaned into him. “I promised you we could leave after tonight. That I would give you the life you deserve.”

“I think this life is more than enough. Anyone with you in it is blessed.” I could feel him smile. “And besides, I didn’t think we were even going to make it that far to the door before you changed your mind.”

He scoffed, “you really have such little faith in me?”

“No, it’s not that. I just know who I married, you chose your family every time. You’ll spend the rest of your eternity trying to keep them together.”

“You know that includes you too.”

“I know, and I would choose you every time too.” I smiled, turning to face him with his arms still around me. Instead of responding, he returned the smile and gently connected our lips.

Alright that’s it my guys. Well I might do one more for the ball with the Mikaelsons for fun, but there is no solving this conflict. Elijah will forever being dealing with his family and so will you and I’m not gonna be rewriting this whole show. Hope this was enough, I wish I could have done better.