#i sketched this out thinking i’d be cleaning it up but i never got around to it

[raddest-laddest]

happy belated pocky day

[illumity33]

Drawn-out Argument

tags : hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here, fluff AN : i've actually written a few drafts for this au a few months back but I suddenly gained motivation to rewrite and finish one of my few drafts. I'll probably start a masterlist for this series soon(still trying get used to posting on tumblr), so comment if you're interested to be tagged!

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The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and clean linen, the kind of sterile scent that clung to everything, making it impossible to forget where they were. The only sounds filling the space were the occasional beeping of medical monitors and the faint murmur of nurses outside, their voices softened by the thick walls. The days had started blurring together—marked by meal trays with tasteless food, checkups, and the sheer frustration of not being able to go anywhere.

But in the past week or so, something had shifted.

Kunikuzushi still thought hospitals sucked. He still hated sitting in this wheelchair, his legs wrapped in heavy casts, the weight of them making him feel trapped. But the other kid in the bed next to his? They made things a little less unbearable. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They weren’t exactly friends. At least, he wouldn’t call it that. But they talked. More than he expected to, anyway. Sometimes about serious things, sometimes about completely pointless nonsense—anything to fill the dragging hours.

Like right now.

“I’m just saying,” Kunikuzushi muttered, arms crossed, “if I had to choose between being a cat or a dog, I’d be a cat. No question.”

The kid in the bed across from him blinked. Then squinted. “…You? A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No way. You’re, like…a little chihuahua.”

His eyes snapped toward them, immediately offended. “Excuse me?”

(Name) grinned, propping themselves up on their elbows. “You’re always mad, always making noise, and if you could run around right now, you’d probably be nipping at people’s ankles.”

“That’s not—” He scowled, looking down at his hands on instinct. “I’m not even shaking—”

“You are shaking.”

“That’s because I’m angry.”

(Name) just laughed. “See? Chihuahua energy.”

Kunikuzushi groaned loudly, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I regret ever talking to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

They just smiled knowingly. “Then stop talking to me.”

“…No.”

They chuckled, and the conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Kunikuzushi tapped his fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair, eyes flickering toward the ceiling.

Then (name)’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Hey,” they said lazily, pointing toward the bedside table. More specifically, the small leather-bound book resting on it. “What do you even write in that?”

His eyes flicked toward his journal, then back at them, immediately narrowing. “It’s not a diary.”

“I never said it was.”

“You were thinking it.”

“…So it is a diary.”

Kunikuzushi shot them a glare. “It’s a journal.”

“Right. So can I draw in it?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mine.”

(Name) groaned dramatically, flopping back against their pillow. “C’mon, I’m bored. You won’t even let me read it—at least let me draw something in it.”

Kunikuzushi crossed his arms, giving them a skeptical look. The idea of letting someone touch his journal felt…strange. Like handing over a piece of his brain for inspection.

But after a long pause—and an equally long sigh—he reached for it.

“Fine,” he muttered, flipping to a blank page before shoving it toward them. “Don’t ruin it.”

(Name) grinned in triumph, taking the book and snatching a pen from the tray table beside them. They immediately got to work, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

Kunikuzushi watched from the corner of his eye, arms still crossed, as they carefully sketched out two figures. It didn’t take long to tell what they were drawing—one was a kid with an IV drip in their arm, grinning brightly. The other stood next to them, scowling with his arms crossed.

It wasn’t hard to guess who was who.

He huffed. “Really?”

“What?”

“Why do I look emotionally constipated?”

(Name) grinned. “Because you always are”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he rested his cheek against his palm and watched as they added little details—his sharp eyebrows, his messy hair, the slight puff of his cheeks like he was pouting.

After a moment, (name) leaned back, tilting their head. “Hmm. I don’t like how I drew myself.”

Kunikuzushi raised an eyebrow. “Looks fine to me.”

“No, I look weird.” They grabbed an eraser and hovered it over their own face.

He glanced at the condensation on their drink sitting on the tray table, some of it dripping onto the page earlier, though neither of them had noticed.

The second they dragged the eraser over it, the ink smudged.

(Name) froze.

Kunikuzushi blinked.

“…Why do I look like I’m dissolving?” they finally asked.

Silence.

Then Kunikuzushi slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Pfft—”

“This is terrible,” they whined.

He snatched the journal back before they could do any more damage. “Too late. It’s staying.”

(Name) gasped, reaching out for it. “Wait, let me redo it—”

“Nope.” He shut the book with finality, tucking it back onto the table. “You ruined it. It’s permanent now.”

They groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Kunikuzushi just smirked, arms behind his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

-

Kunikuzushi didn’t immediately look at the drawing again after reclaiming his journal. He had spent most of the afternoon keeping it out of (name)’s reach, just in case they got any ideas about trying to "fix" it.

But later, when they weren’t paying attention, he cracked it open.

His gaze flickered over the sketch—his own tiny, scowling face, the little details they had added like the messy strands of his hair and the way his arms were crossed, as if he were mid-complaint. (Name) was standing next to him, beaming with an IV drip attached to their arm. And then there was—

Kunikuzushi squinted.

Something wasn’t right.

He flipped the book around and jabbed a finger at the drawing. “Why am I standing?”

(Name) blinked, then tilted their head. “Huh?”

“In the drawing,” he said, pointing again. “You gave me casts, but I’m standing.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at their own work.

Then they shrugged. “Wheelchairs are hard to draw.”

Kunikuzushi let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You just skipped that part? My entire situation? Just—poof, nonexistent?” He flailed a hand dramatically toward his actual wheelchair. “That’s, like, the most important part!”

“I dunno, you look fine standing,” (name) said with an amused smile, resting their chin in their hand. “Maybe it’s foreshadowing. Y’know, for when you finally get out of that thing.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well, you can't know if you don't try!”

Kunikuzushi groaned, shutting the book again with a thump and holding it to his chest as if protecting it from further artistic inaccuracies. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”

(Name) stifled a laugh. “You’ll live.”

He just lets out a scoff.

Still, despite all his complaints, he found himself flipping back to the drawing later, staring at their scribbled figures for much longer than he meant to.

He traced a finger over the smudged ink of (name)’s face, then over his own legs—completely intact in the drawing, as if nothing had ever happened.

And for some reason, he didn’t really hate the idea.

taglist : @algrimmammon @wateredfay @featuredtofu @bittersweetmiko @scaraenthusiast1 @0kauy @kunikissr @mellowberrie@ysabelyaps

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

Anything > Human

Part 1

characters: rin shinonome x oc / fem!reader contains: NSFW but can easily skip the smut if that makes you uncomfortable and you won’t lose too much, big bro narumi, fluff fluff and more fluff, a taller rin because fuck you that’s why, some brief hints of a smau(?)/texts, slight displays of rin’s anger issues and a slightly jealous oc (if you squint) and a bit of a crybaby oc as well 💔 beginning is NOT a canon event but takes place after she’s attacked by no. 9 and saved and then goes into various flashbacks.

wc: aroooound 7.6k?? yeah i know- I KNOW okay? i’m out of control and i WOULD apologize but i’m not even close to being sorry (or done.)

a/n: you guys may be resistant to me but i will STILL be filling your yuri void even if only two of you read it! 🖤 also trying a new setup with these one-shots because i feel like it’s prettier! written with an oc in mind HOWEVER if you still want to read it as x reader you’re free to ignore all of that stuff just know you WILL be gen narumi’s younger sister regardless so have fun w/ that besties! 🖤

link to my kn8 ocs if you haven’t read it yet!

It was a horror movie. It was what I had had nightmares about since the moment I stepped on base for the first time. At some point I guess I should’ve expected it. A cataclysm with mass casualties and all I could do was pray that the ones I loved weren’t one of them. It was pure helplessness. Pure unadulterated helplessness.

As a medic you couldn’t afford to lose your cool though. There wasn’t time to cry or even to breathe, really. Your job was to save people. Arguably the most important people if you were a higher medic (which I had now landed myself the status of) still stationed on base caring for the wounded officers and determining if they were stable enough to go back to the battlefield or not.

Fuck, it was such a selfish thought; that I’d rather be on the front lines. I would’ve rather have been made into a crushed spectacle underneath layers and layers of rubble of the destroyed city instead. Anything to have had to see her flatline.

~

I’m convinced whenever someone you love dies, even if it’s just for a moment… their life flashes before your eyes too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first time I saw her, I think it was the universe’s way of trying to prove something to me. I had never believed in love at first sight. Infatuation maybe. Lust definitely. And maybe, in reality, that’s all it was. Still every time I snuck off to training behind my one way ticket in the know of most things, my older brother (dimwitted older brother but somehow still the captain), I caught myself staring at her. Losing track of almost every thought I currently had swirling in my head, besides the ones that she occupied. She seemed to train harder than the others, zipping around the track like a superhuman and benching more than some of the men. No matter what the activity though I always found some excuse to get myself involved.

In the first division my technical title was medic. My brother was lazy enough whenever it came to most things that weren’t brute force though I usually got roped into doing a lot of the technical jobs of captains. Even though as of now, it was starting to look like a mistake.

“Ummm, hello?? Earth to Iris.” My brother waved his hand in front of my slowly glazing over expression while I chewed on the end of my pen. “Did you come out here just to ogle? Because it’s fine if you did. I’m just saying I’d like a heads up first.”

“I’m not ogling… I’m concentrating.” I finally spoke up before giving my head a firm shake regardless as I tried to pull my eyes from the girl currently stretching out on the track.

“On what? Ass? Tits? Or are you more of a gentlewoman and you’re just focused on her eyes?” He questioned before snatching my notebook clean from my hands causing me to scramble up to my feet with a start. “Wow, you are such a total creep.” He snickered down at the ink sketches occupying most of the page alongside the various pieces of officer names and their current distance and times.

“Give that back, you asshole!!” I exclaimed with a groan, pathetically attempting to jump up after the notebook that he currently dangled way above my head. “Before I get Hasegawa on you!”

“Oooh, Hasegawa I’m so scare- what the hell, Iris?!” He yelped the moment I sent my foot sailing into his shin causing him to drop the notebook right to where I could yank it from his hands.

“Just because I’m not an officer doesn’t mean I don’t know how to pack a punch!” I huffed, only relishing in a few seconds of victory before I noticed him launching forward to chase after me. His long legs making it infinitely easier for him to do so.

“Okay, we can test to see who’s the strongest if you really wanna do that-”

“No, no I don’t, I told you I forbid you from chasing me!” I exclaimed as I tried to take off at a faster rate only causing me to trip over my own two feet the moment I tried to curve around somebody else. Landing me right behind, of course, the woman of the hour.

“Really? You’re gonna chicken out in front of my best platoon leader?” He teased, my cheeks as red as roses as I nervously shoved myself up to my feet while clutching my notebook to my chest for dear life.

“Ummm… no, no I’m not-”

“C’mon, I hardly think that’s a fair fight, don’t you, captain?” Rin’s voice was smooth as she took a sweeping step in front of me, my head coming straight to the height of her shoulders as she did so.

“Maybe so, but that’s what makes it fun, don’t you think, Shinonome?” He asked just before shooting me a knowing smirk from over her shoulder which only caused me to glare back in response. “At any rate, I’m gonna head back in. You can let me know that data later on, shortstop, if you got it that is.”

“Shortstop?” Rin snickered before glancing back at me as I let out an annoyed groan.

“I hate it whenever he calls me that.” I grumbled.

“To be fair, he’s right. You are, well, short.” She added with another airy laugh as she took another step towards me. My muscles tensed in anxiety as I tilted my chin upwards to meet her gaze. All the while Gen’s frustrating and far more confident voice echoing in my mind, ‘If you like her that much, why don’t you just don’t talk to her?’ Now I was finally starting to realize why. She was intimidating as fuck. “Nice drawings of me by the way.” She covered my awkward silence with ease, my cheeks almost feeling like they were being set ablaze as I quickly swiped the notebook behind my back.

“Ummm, sorry I-I don’t know what you’re-”

“Sweetheart, he waved it around the whole track whenever he was holding it above your head.” She interrupted before I could make any more attempt to lie. And in that moment I thought this was it. Gen had embarrassed me countless amounts of times before, however out of all of them, this one might’ve been enough for me to want to make a break out of base and hide my face for the rest of my existence.

“I’m really sorry- I’m really- I- I know it’s creepy.”

“Don’t apologize.” She giggled before flipping back her already short hair as she folded her arms across her chest. “I think it’s cute that I have admirers.”

My expression almost saddened as I dropped my hands in front of me in slight defeat, the spiraling of the notebook biting into my hand as I sighed softly. “You’re a nice subject… I guess. You’re easy to draw, got great bone structure-”

“Keep talking and walk with me.” Rin grinned just before I felt her arm being swung around my shoulders making me jump for just a split second before she could lead me towards the exit of the track. “Tell me more about my striking beauty. What else do you love about me? Are you flustered yet? Charmed yet scared maybe?”

“Flustered? Usually. Scared? Definitely. Charmed? Still up for debate.” I answered with a little giggle as I watched her jaw drop in mock offense.

“Wow, gonna have to work harder then.” She said with a little wink that I was ashamed to say made my stomach do flip-flops. “Seriously though… can I see those? Like, actually see them?” She wondered with a gesture towards the notebook, and for the millionth time I could feel my heart clenching as I clutched the notebook almost protectively to my chest at the question. “It’s okay if not I just… thought I’d ask.” She said with a casual shrug, cool as ever as she whirled around to face me before leaning against the concrete wall that lead back inside.

“Oh- no… no, o-of course you can. Th-They’re of you anyways so- i-it’s only right you see the drawings the creepy younger sister of your captain drew of you.” I tried to laugh, cover up my general anxiety before passing over the notebook for her to take.

A soft little grin stretched across her face as she took the notebook in victory, “Atta girl.” Her words almost made me shiver, the true definition of ‘gay panic’ as my cheeks turned into a bright red.

Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she scanned over the pages, various doodles of her sketched across the paper from a detailed head shot, a darkened sketch of her back and side profile with her fierce eyes and gas mask complete with the rest of her combat suit. There was a medium sized image of her wielding her custom machine gun (that I had basically given up on drawing halfway through). And lastly the most recent sketch of her taller figure stretching out her shoulders at the start of the track.

I expected the worst in all honesty, already forming a pre-wince as I awaited her no doubt, probably negative response. But all I did was watch her eyes widen as she peered down at me with a slightly softened expression, “Iris, these are really good. Like- really really good. A-And I’m not just saying that because it’s me.” She said with a little giggle of her own, “Do you post any of your art at all or-?”

“Ummm, I did but- then people found out I was Gen’s younger sister and it blew up and I got anxious so… I ended up going private.” I voiced, gnawing on my bottom lip with a tiny shrug as she passed me the notebook back, already reaching for her phone tucked away in her pocket.

“You care if I follow it?” She questioned with a lifted brow, and if anything would’ve caused my heart to completely stop it was that. Her holding her phone out to me, instagram app already pulled up and logged in to her own very public account.

And against all of my better judgement I gulped an anxious lump down my throat and nodded, “Yeah, o-of course you can. Just- don’t show anyone else?” I asked, shaking fingers typing out the familiar username to my account before handing her phone back.

“I’ve got you.” She added with that same growing smile as she slid it back into her pocket. “Well, I’ve gotta run but… I’ll see you around, Picasso?”

“Yeah, for sure.” I answered, and I was certain my blush remained long after she dashed off.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The remainder of the weeks after that were quiet, and I nearly caught myself missing her. The usual struggle of being the person who was too scared to initiate anything themselves. She said ‘hi’ occasionally though. Dropped by the infirmary with mild injuries from past smaller missions. And I had definitely seen her profile pop up in my notifications since then. Her profile that I was of course already following on both of mine. Overall though, after the first conversation I caught myself longing for her a bit more than usual, and Gen must’ve had enough of hearing me whine about her.

“Hey, hey c’mon. You’ve gotta get to bed, lights out was a long time ago.” The feeling of a pair of hands on my shoulders made my eyes flutter open with a start, jumping at the sudden touch with a small gasp. I had dozed off in the library again it seemed, surrounded by a multitude of medical books, notes, and the lone sketchbook that had probably imprinted on the side of my face by now.

“R-Rin?” I questioned in a groggy voice as I lifted an ink covered hand to wipe at my eyes. “What are you- Wh-What time is it?”

“Your brother sent me to get you. I think he might have ulterior motives though.” She chuckled lightly just as I could feel her thumbs softly kneading into my tense shoulders. “Geez, are your shoulders always this tight?”

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve actually been relaxed honestly.” I murmured just as I was about to let my head drop back into my arms.

“No… no no no, we’ve gotta get you to bed, sweet girl. C’mon, I’ll help you.” She gripped my cheek with the utmost gentleness to lift my head before sliding a soft arm around my shoulders.

“W-Wait! Nobody can see this!” I exclaimed, darting out a hand to grip my sketchbook right at the last minute as she scooped me up into her arms. My hands shook as I tightened my arms around her shoulders, trying to keep my breath from being swept right out of my lungs as I finally felt her body so close.

We had only had subtle touches until now, despite the fact she was significantly more touchy than I expected her to be. A brush of the hands, a ruffle of the hair, her arm around my shoulders; but we had never been pressed together like this before. She smelled fancy, rich even, cherry and amber, seductive but gentle at the same time. The cyan tips of her asymmetrical hair barely brushing my forehead as I tilted my head upwards to look at her. But even that felt too difficult. Too impossibly heavy.

“You can lay on me, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” She stated, my eyes fluttering as I let my head drop against her.

The rest of the walk was a blur up until I felt my body being laid against my unmade bed. The departure of her warmth nearly made me want to dart my hand out to tug her back down with me. It felt like I had been dreaming of these moments for so long now, too long to let it go after such a short amount of time. “Rin… wait.” I hated how pathetic I sounded as I wrapped my hand around her wrist, just tired enough to be delusional as I caught myself attempting to pull her back towards the bed.

An anxious lump felt like it was growing in my throat as I pushed myself up to a sitting position with all of my strength. I fought sleep with everything in me, because the moment I was awake I wouldn’t have the courage to do this. I barely did now. “I- I need to talk to you about something.”

“Darling, you’re half asleep, we can talk in the morning.” She insisted, ever so responsible with anyone who wasn’t her as she gently placed her hands against my shoulders as if attempting to get me to lie back down. I was stubborn though, I tried to fight back, she wasn’t even using about an eighth of her strength though and she still could’ve pinned me directly to the bed if she wanted to.

My hands trembled as I pressed them firmly to her chest as if to get her to let up. However this time she did succeed in sweeping the air out of my lungs as my body hit the mattress once more. My eyes flew open in shock at the sight of her hovering over me, confirming about 15 different realizations I had made about myself in the course of a few seconds. “I-I like you!” I finally exclaimed the dreaded words, hearing the tremble in my voice that only spread to the rest of my body as I hugged my greedy hands to myself as if certain she’d be pushing me away anyways. I was too afraid to touch her. I was too afraid to be touched, wincing as if waiting for the absolute worse. “I- I’m sorry I- I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, wait-“ Rin muttered causing me to flinch for the millionth time as she placed a delicate hand against my cheek. “You know that I already know that, right?”

“You… You do?” I sniffled, tears of embarrassment already flooding my vision as I blinked up at her.

“Yeah, I’m not blind, baby.” She said with a weak and airy chuckle just before letting her eyes soften as she let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, scooch over.” My blurry eyes widened once more as if in shock this time, lifting a hand that still trembled up to my eyes in some attempt to dry them up before I could scoot closer towards the wall. Rin kicked her sneakers off before fitting herself right next to me, arms wide open for me to crawl into. “C’mere.”

I hesitated a moment, almost as if not understanding fully what she wanted me to do. Or maybe I was just still in shock. That someone I had liked for so long now was in my bed, holding her arms out for me. Her scent enveloped me all over again as I felt her arms wrapping around my body. It was such an unfamiliar position, her back lounged against the two pillows I always slept on, now replaced by her chest against my cheek. A soft rise and fall with each breath, the gentle thump of her heart nearly enough to lull me right back into whatever dream state I had been in before.

But my pathetic emotions seemed to win over it all. A wave of sobs finally pushing their way upwards now that my face was thoroughly muffled in her chest. I didn’t even know why I was crying. Why everything seemed to hit all at once as my hand curled into a trembling fist against her. Maybe I was scared. No actually, I was definitely scared. I was fucking terrified. To admit feelings like that to somebody who already felt light years ahead of you was the scariest thing in the world.

“Hey, look at me.” Rin spoke, careful hands moving only to cradle my face. And I hated how every little gentle touch made me want to cry even harder. Her eyes furrowing in concern as she brushed her delicate thumbs underneath my sore eyes. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to feel like this for somebody else?” I questioned, almost reaching my hand upwards to brush away my tears on my own once more, before I realized hers were still there. “L-Let alone somebody like you?”

“Somebody like me?” She questioned with a perfectly sculpted brow. Even at 3 am whenever she was already dressed for bed she still seemed to be flawless.

“Rin, e-everybody wants you! Everybody throws themselves at you! Civilians, your own officers, even some of the goddamn platoon leaders, h-how do you not see it?!” I sniffled, letting my voice raise almost in frustration. Frustration for the world, frustration for myself… just not frustration towards her. Never towards her. All I was doing was getting myself worked up. Trying to justify every tearful overreaction that I seemed to exhibit, probably making myself seem like nothing more than a lunatic.

Nothing seemed to phase Rin though, watching her brows furrow as she sat back against the mound of pillows and crossed her arms. And I hated how much I wanted them back around me. “I do see it.”

“So h-how am I any different then?! H-How-”

“Because I don’t want them- I want you.” She replied as simply as ever, eyes seeming to scan me up and down just as she sat forward which nearly made me bristle in response.

I wrapped my arms around my body as if in a shield, my eyes widening in disbelief, blinking as if I had heard her wrong, hallucinated in some way. I certainly wouldn’t have put it past myself. “Wh- What?” Was the only word I could seem to get out, mouth still hanging open like an idiot. “D-Don’t just say that to make me happy-”

“I’m not really in the business of lying to people to make them happy.” She replied with a little flip of her already cropped hair before sliding her arms back around my waist. But this touch felt different. It was slower, more sensual, pressing her body directly against mine until there was no room in between.

I wasn’t even sure who kissed who first, just that I wasted no time reaching for her. Arms sliding around her shoulders as her lips finally pressed firmly to mine. Firm but gentle all the same. Protective but also in a possessive way. But I caught myself almost wanting it to be exactly that. A kiss of ownership, belonging, and after already a second I knew I didn’t want to kiss another pair of lips ever again.

Her fingers just barely grazed my bare skin as my shirt inched up ever so slightly. A touch that almost felt like an electric shock in the best way possible, goosebumps blooming along my skin with every place she touched.

Once more she pressed my body to the mattress below, the sight of her hovering over me nearly causing me to gasp as she shook off her zip up jacket. “Fuck.” I cursed, eyes probably widening to an embarrassing size as she only smirked in response before devouring my lips once again. The kiss grew deeper by the moment, hungry and needy. My own hands slipping up her bare arms, tracing the curves of her muscles just before I heard her soft moan against my lips. And I swore it nearly launched me into overdrive. I made her moan? I actually was able to make her moan?

“Rin-“ I whimpered her name almost in desperation the moment I felt the cool metal of a tongue piercing pressing into my own bare one. Tangling up together as if they were in the middle of some sloppy dance. I could almost feel her smirking against me at the response, the way I reacted to her touch as if I hadn’t ever been touched before. “Please…” I was barely able to get the words out in between kisses as the space in between my legs ached for contact. Ached for her to press her piercing elsewhere as an uncomfortable pool of need seemed to flood my core. “Rin.”

My breathing came out heavy as she broke away only to draw her lips along my jaw. A curious hand slipped up my shirt causing my breath to hitch as she drew her long fingers along my skin. As if she just wanted to torture me even more, “Please what? I need you to use your words, sweet girl.”

“I need you- I- please.” I felt so pathetic as I could barely even get the words out, and even then there wasn’t much I could say. I didn’t know how to ask for something like this. And even whenever I opened my mouth to try it seemed impossible to even get anything besides little whimpers out.

“You need me to fuck you, baby girl, is that it?” She whispered against my neck, teeth lightly nipping at my skin as her finger seemed to carefully trace the curve of my breast. The other tugging almost impatiently at the end of my shirt, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.” The same statement came out in a breathy moan as I lifted my arms to allow her to pull the fabric from my body. Her eyes seemed to widen before scanning down my exposed chest, almost causing a faint shiver to radiate through me as I felt her calloused fingers tracing down my ribcage.

“Oh fuck-” she almost seemed to whimper, her hands on my bare skin causing me to arch against her with one of my own. Quickly she reached for the end of her tank top and pulled it over her head with ease as she shook her cropped hair out. “This your first time, baby?”

In the heat of it all I had almost forgotten the newness of the situation. She had just felt so natural, the way her body seemed to meld to mine so easily. I nodded, a hint of nerves finally creeping over me as I inched upwards onto my elbows with reddened cheeks. I let out a little gasp at the sight of her bare body in front of me, and I questioned how someone could be so perfect. So flawless. My hand shook as I lifted it, wanting to press it against her so badly, feel her skin underneath mine. Though I questioned if I was even worthy enough to as it hovered just inches from her chest.

My breath hitched in my lungs once more as soon as I felt her fingers wrapping around my wrist, pulling my hand until it landed against her soft skin where she pressed her own a top mine. “You can touch me, you don’t have to be so scared.” She murmured with that same knowing smile on her lips, cocky yet curious. She knew she was hot shit, but she wasn’t going to make me feel inferior either.

That simple motion nearly had me throwing myself at her, keeping the one hand pressed to her chest where I could faintly feel her delicate heart thumping underneath. Sometimes living with Narumi I almost forgot that’s all most of the officers had. They were humans. Humans with exceptional strength but still humans at the end of the day. They didn’t have the power of a kaiju weapon constantly sucking their life away every time they used it. It was just her. Just us. And I really thought, at least for one night, that we’d be okay. It only made me want to cling to her even more.

Her lips crashed back into mine as I encircled my other arm around her shoulders as if to pull her even closer as they moved in sync with my own. Reaching downwards she let her fingers graze the waistband of my pants, my breathing only growing heavier at the sensation of her hand tracing down my figure once more. “Can I?” She murmured.

“Please.” I almost whined at the anticipation as she slipped away from me only to inch the remainder of my clothes down my legs. The tiniest shiver creeping over my body at the bare skin hitting the air. And I nearly caught myself fumbling around for something to cover up with on instinct until I heard her gently shushing me from above. Lips grazing against my jaw, my neck, my collarbones with little kisses that covered me in goosebumps and made the space between my thighs ache all the same.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” She muttered against my skin as she let her kisses trail lower… lower… lower. Her muscular arms wrapped around my thighs to pry them apart just for her. A sharp gasp springing from my lips as she pressed her lips to my inner thighs, taking her sweet time with me. Torture but incredible all the same as I felt her hot breath dancing across my center. “So fucking beautiful.”

My jaw dropped in relief the moment I felt her tongue prying at my folds, shooting up onto my elbows as she trailed it upwards through my arousal. Shaky moans fell from my lips as I felt the vibrations of her moan rocking through me, my hips already bucking against her face just as her cyan eyes flickered upwards to meet my own that could barely stay open at this point. My eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure that seemed to seep through me at every angle.

“R-Rin!” I let out another sharp and heavy moan the moment I felt her piercing wrapping around my sensitive clit, pressing in and massaging the bundle of nerves. My eyes rolled back at the incredible feeling, though it only made me want to cry out louder. Louder until everybody in the defense force could hear. My shaking hand rose up to slap over my mouth to muffle the noises until I felt Rin’s hand jerking mine away.

“Don’t you dare.” She ordered with darkened eyes, and I was already whining at the lack of contact from her tongue. “You try to muffle yourself again and I’m going to stop, understand?” I nodded, almost hating how she had reduced me to such a whimpering puddle, but loving it at the same time. “Good girl.” She whispered against my cunt, another loud moan bringing itself to the surface as she dove back in.

My traitorous hand stretched downwards, a silent plea for help, beckoning her to take my hand into her own. “Rin, please- please…” I begged, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as her tongue parted through my folds and she sent another moan of her own through my body. I could’ve sworn I saw her own eyes roll back as if she was the one being pleasured rather than me. I let out a sigh of relief that only turned into a cry of ecstasy the moment I finally felt her fingers slipping through mine, a soft thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“Gods, you taste so good.” She whispered, and I watched her eyes soften below me as her slender fingers prodded at my entrance ever so slightly. “Can I, love?”

With a quick nod I felt the stretch of her fingers slipping inside of me. A mix of pain and pleasure looped together as she let them curl up just right to run along my sweet spot, a sharp cry of her name sounding from my lips as I seemed to squeeze the life out of her hand. “Right there, baby? Does that feel good?” She whispered against my core, middle and ring finger pumping in and out of me at a slow and gentle pace at first, so careful not to hurt me but my god did it still feel so good. Each time she let her long fingers drag along that one magical spot inside of me. All the while connecting her lips and tongue back to my swollen clit. Bouncing back and forth between using the tip of her tongue to massage the area and swirling the metallic piercing around the circumference.

“Yes… yes- o-oh gods yes!” My moans were incessant, loud cries of her name as each touch seemed to launch me into different heights of euphoria. Tears burned my eyes at the intensity of it all and she hurtled me closer and closer towards the edge until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Rin-” I whimpered, the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes with a cry of pleasure as I knotted a fistful of her hair into my hand. “Rin I’m- I think I’m gonna cum.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” She whispered, picking up the pace of her fingers and replacing her lips with her thumb with just the same amount of pressure for the time being. “Just let go, okay? Just let go.” The moment she connected her lips and tongue back to my center I could feel the high rumbling to life.

I almost felt like I was floating as my orgasm hit, my thighs tightening around her head and hips buckling as if afraid she’d slip away much too soon. Rin was determined to take her time though as she lapped away at my folds, taking in every bit of the mess like she was starved. Tears still flooded my eyes after the aftermath, my heart racing in my chest as I tried to stop myself from saying anything stupid like I loved her. You couldn’t decide that after one fuck, could you? But gods it had felt like so much more. It had felt more than incredible, more than pleasure, fuck, it had almost felt chemical the way she worked with my body like she had know it for years.

“Rin?” My voice cracked, the tiniest sob catching in the back of my throat just as I felt her soft hands cradling my face. The white noise of her shushes being one of the only things to make my breathing settle.

“I’m right here, baby, right here. Just breathe for me.” My breathing slowed as she pressed her forehead to mine, thumbs tracing underneath my cheeks with the utmost gentleness. “You okay, love?” She finally asked once I seemed to calm down, my hands encircling around her wrists as if to hold her closer. “Was that okay?”

“I’m- yeah… that was- that was more than okay. That was incredible.” I stammered with a nod, still taking in a few heavy breaths as I leaned my head against her hands, the weakest smile already tugging at my lips.

“You promise? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better after I just fucked you so hard you cried?” The corners of her lips were already upturning in a smug smirk that showed she knew I wasn’t however.

I let out a weak chuckle, lifting a hand to curl around her fingers, “I promise… you were- you were incredible. I-I don’t even know why I started bawling like that.” Her smile only felt more genuine as she let it grow ever so slightly just before brushing her lips to my forehead.

“It’s normal, I think. Crying after your first time… it can be a lot. But if you are okay let me get you cleaned up because you actually look so fucked out.” She let out a giggle of her own that I only echoed, cheeks as red as roses as she scooped me up into her arms, still as easy as ever.

“Wait… hang on, wh-what about you?” I began with an almost saddened expression as I braced a soft hand against her chest once more. “Don’t you want me to-”

“No, baby… it was your first time, I’m okay.” She denied the offer with a little shake of her head as she carried me off towards the attached bathroom. “Besides, I- I get a lot more from giving than receiving either way. But… in the future, if you want to, I won’t say no. Just- don’t feel obligated.”

It felt as close to a boundary as she was going to set, so I didn’t press on any more as she placed me on the tiny sink counter. “Okay… i-if you’re sure.” I spoke in a softened voice, and she only took my hands in hers to bring them up to her lips and press a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“I promise, I am.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bed was cold whenever I woke up the next morning, her chest replaced with the fabric of a pillow and the warmth of her arm unraveled from my shoulders. Immediately I was gulping an anxious lump down my throat, trying not to think of the worst scenarios as I reached for my phone. A long gust of air blowing from my lungs the moment I saw the text reflected across my screen that made my heart skip.

I was still shaking as I made my way towards the training grounds, nervously gnawing on my bottom lip as her texts seemed to dance in the back of my head. Her girl. I was her girl now? Was that short for girlfriend? Or just simply semantics? Did I even want to know the answer or would it just hurt me?

“Finally you’re here! I thought you were gonna miss the show!” Gen’s voice carried the moment I stepped outside, eyes barely moving from where his fingers darted across his switch. “I texted you this morning but you didn’t say anything!”

“Oh uhhh… sorry I-”

“Funny, she texted me back.” Rin drawled on with a smirk tugging on her lips as she swung the practice spear around like it was a lightsaber. Gen’s jaw dropped open in slight offense as he whipped around to face me just before shooting me a wink and whipping back into action. “Alright, break’s over.”

I almost flinched as the spears started flying, taking a cautious seat next to Gen’s chair. “Alright spill!” I heard him whisper-yell from behind me without a moment of hesitation.

“What?” I huffed in mild annoyance as I glanced back at him with a glare.

“What happened between you two! It’s like she pulled a Kafka and swallowed a kaiju overnight! She’s been nuts all morning!” He responded causing my eyes to fly open and my cheeks to feel like they were being set on fire at his choice of words.

“Given the circumstances I feel like that’s a really inappropriate thing to joke about.” I stated, brows furrowing in mild frustration as I sat back on my hands. “Plus, that skill is all her… you know that.”

“So are you guys girlfriends now or-”

“I… don’t really know exactly.” I mumbled as I nervously wrung my hands in my lap, eyes briefly scanning over Rin’s figure as she dodged and countered every single one of Shinomiya’s attacks while barely breaking a sweat herself. “I mean, I- we- ugh! I don’t wanna tell you about this stuff!”

“She came out of your room this morning, I’m not an idiot. Besides, I’m not trying to hear about all of that anyways I’m just… trying to see how our progress is going. Seems like last night was a good move but my work is far from over.” He spoke through a longing sigh before drawing himself back to his game with a quick glance upwards at the two sparring officers. “Oh hang on, she’s getting sloppy, I’ve gotta start some shit.”

Gen proceeded to let out a theatrical sigh before lounging back on his lawn chair. “Ugh, I’m so bored!” He groaned, causing me to shoot him a look of confusion. “Man, I wonder when you’re gonna get to a level where I can take you on myself.”

“Please don’t make me associate with you.” I muttered with a roll of my eyes, though quickly raising up to my feet to step out of the way the moment I saw Hasegawa approaching with that familiar scowl on his face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rin was pissed by the time she had me follow her back to the women’s locker rooms. A scowl that seemed to be deeper than her usual one as she stormed through the doors with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “She hasn’t even beat you yet, I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

I hadn’t even recognized the error of my words until she whipped around to face me, “Yet. That’s exactly it. She hasn’t beat me yet! But she will one day and then whenever she does he’s going to be sitting there and watching while she fucking surpasses me in the course of a few fucking months while I had to work my ass off just to get here!” I jumped the moment I heard the clang of the lockers as she rammed her open hand into them, pressing her forehead to the metal with a heavy sigh.

“Rin, just because she surpasses you doesn’t mean you lose all of that. I-It shouldn’t discredit you at all. And I- I know she wouldn’t do that either- try and discredit you.” I tried to be gentle, approach her with quiet steps as she stayed with her forehead pressed to the lockers until I got close enough.

My hand was just hovering in the air, wanting to touch her, comfort her, something I hadn’t been able to do yet. But I only drew it back the moment she whirled around, running frustrated hands through her hair, “That’s so much easier for you to say though, Iris, you don’t have the entirety of fucking humankind resting on your shoulders every single day!”

The words stung more than they should’ve, a subtle slap in the face that I had been hearing since Gen had shot up so fiercely in ranks and I had stayed put… in a completely different department… only there because of him in the first place. The same words I had been hearing ever since he was discovered by the defense force at all. ‘You’re not cut out for this, Iris.’ ‘Just stay behind, Iris.’ ‘Stay where you’ll be safe, Iris. You’re a casualty waiting to happen.’ “Right.” I whispered, eyes glued to the floor as if afraid to meet hers at all.

“Wait, baby, I-I didn’t mean it like that.” Her hands gently wrapped around my arms causing me to flinch on instinct for the millionth time. “That came out wrong, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.” I gulped the painful lump down my throat, willing myself not to cry on her for the third time in what hadn’t even been 24 hours yet. All for vastly different reasons.

She gently pulled me into her once I finally let myself relax, letting out a heavy sigh of my own as I hid my face in her chest. One of her arms slipped upwards to practically cradle my head as a few loose tears pricked at my burning eyes. But no, I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. “I’m sorry.” She repeated, and it felt as if she was never going to stop saying the words as she leaned her cheek against my head. “I just… I’m so scared of being left behind, Iris.” She spoke through another heavy breath that she muffled into my hair, arms tightening around me ever so slightly to the point where it almost hurt. I didn’t hate the feeling though. Her arms around me so tight I could hardly breathe, I liked the security of it all. The safety. But sometimes I just wished I could’ve brought that safety to someone else.

“I know.” I murmured into her chest with a softened expression of my own, debating if I even wanted to speak or not. I didn’t want to ruin this. I didn’t want to cause what had been so perfect so far anymore undue stress.

“It feels like… no matter what I do I’m always just- one step behind what everyone needs me to be. Until he picks someone else that can eventually pass me up and I- I’m sorry. I-I know you probably don’t wanna hear any of this.” She shook her head, finally letting her arms unravel from around me, and I almost felt a lingering ache whenever they did.

“No, it’s okay.” I shook my head before lifting my hands to brace against her flushed cheeks, eyes watery with frustration though she wouldn’t dare let anything fall. “You’re more than just a vessel of muscles though.” I let one of my hands cautiously slip down her neck and shoulders until it was cautiously pressed to her chest, right where her heart thumped quietly underneath it all. “I know you like to keep it hidden but… you have a good heart too. Don’t let them take it from you.” I inched up onto my tiptoes to place a kiss to her jaw, only to feel her lean into it even more as her hand snaked around my wrist once more.

“I think you might just be the only person that makes me feel like that.” She muttered with a soft sigh, her free arm slipping around my waist to pull me in and meet my lips in a kiss that felt more familiar than ever. Her thumb carefully stroking the delicate underside of my wrist as she made no effort to move my hand.

However the sound of the door creaking open caused me to let out a nervous gasp as the two of us jumped apart. I whipped around to see Kikoru’s confused and slightly mortified expression staring back at us, red faced and clutching her water bottle for dear life. “S-Sorry, Platoon Leader Shinonome, I-I can come back later.”

“Oh- at ease, you’re fine.” She said with a simple wave of her hand while her other seemed to squeeze my shoulder almost possessively. “We were just about to head out anyways. Hey, good work out there today though.” She said with a little nod of acknowledgment causing Kikoru’s face to momentarily beam with pride.

“Thank you! I- I’ll make sure to keep working at it!” She exclaimed with a firm salute, a little smile forming on my face in response as Rin let her arm slip around my waist to tug me towards the exit.

“I know you will, I’ll see you around for our next session.” Rin added with a smile of her own before leading me out of the locker rooms. “Okay, so we’re definitely gonna hear about that later.” She added with a nervous laugh once we were out of earshot as she ran a vaguely shaking hand through her hair. A nervous tick she seemed to have.

“That’s only if she tells.” I said with a little shrug as a knowing smirk crossed my lips. “At any rate, it’s not like we were doing anything illegal. Besides, I’m the captain’s sweet and innocent little sister which means… I can do whatever I want.”

“You know,” Rin began with a simple little shrug of her own before tugging me back into her arms once more, “I think I might be okay with that.” She smirked before bringing me in for just one more kiss.

a/n: oh my GOOOOOD- okay so this fic has seriously shaved YEARS off of my life. i haven’t even checked the word count yet but i know it has to be one of my longest ever. at any rate i hope you enjoyed and if not- i will be seeking legal action for emotional damages 😭

credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤

[sakarrie-creates]

Here’s my 2024 Art Summary, terribly late as usual! We’re back to including some black and white in this year and my months were very clustered, but all things considered I was actually surprised I ended up with as many decent samples for the collage as I did. I was kinda expecting them all to be messy sketches this year lol.

Just like with my writing summary, this year the questions are a bit abridged since I didn’t do a ton of art. That said, I’m still a rambler haha, so the reflection questions are answered up the cut. The template I used is available here in case anyone else wants to use it!

What events did you participate in (with art)?Player Appreciation Week (old art), Fandom Trumps Hate (offered), CS Case Files Zine (comic!). Not really the type of art this summary is for, but I also created my first cosplay for RCCC!

What was your biggest challenge this year? Definitely motivation. Last year was a creative slump with a lot going on mentally making stuff hard. Mostly in start up energy, since once I got going, things seemed to go alright.

Did you try anything new this year? I got into a comic zine, which was new and exciting! My original plan was far too long for the creation period, though, so I spent a ton of time trying to widdle it down to 3 pages. I also did super messy spot art sketches for a friend’s fic, which ended up being a lot of fun! I also took some screenshots and then drew other characters into the show, somewhat trying to match the show’s style, which was definitely interesting.

Where do you think you most improved? I’m going to go with rendering again! I really love playing with color and lighting, and several of my collage pieces this year were just adding rendering to old pieces. I have a lot more confidence with it now, though I still sometimes feel like my pieces don’t end up as dynamic as I’d like. I also did a lot better at following inspiration and not being as perfectionistic this year.

What are you most proud of? I’m really proud of getting into a comic zine, even though it likely wasn’t that competitive. The fact that I got in for comics despite never having done art for a zine before is crazy to me! I was a pinch hitter, so I wasn’t originally selected, but I’m still honored I got picked eventually. I also am really proud of the August fully rendered piece of Player screaming. I did that one in almost one sitting, probably around 4ish hours, and it was one of my first times doing full color/rendering without cleaning the sketch much at all. Overall, I was very excited at how well it turned out and I feel like the messy emotions really come across!

How’d this year compare to your 2023 goals?Shoutout to past Sakarrie for giving me a straight bullet point list. MUCH easier to work with lol.

2024 Goals Met:  -Number One Priority: Create for me and don’t put myself in a place to get crazy burnt out and still have requirements. If I meet this goal, then it’s okay if I don’t meet any of the others. (It would be sad.... But I would still count it as meeting overall goals.) -Participate in Summergen and PAW Week (Art or Fic) -Have a fully usable Zine Portfolio (Currently need more merch samples and rendered pieces with backgrounds) -Apply to new TOH Zines or other loved fandom zines. If I end up getting into any, I can pull back, but since that doesn’t seem likely, I want to get into the habit of always being ready to apply with what I have. -Play with different brushes and rendering styles -Not exactly art, but I want to have a finalized long-term merch display plan for all my items -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes digitized so it can be shared with music       2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail       3. Fanworks for other people’s fics      4. Participate in an extra bang or exchange with art      5. Design and manufacture a pin

The ones that don’t have strikethrough are a bit of a stretch, but I’m gonna give them to myself. While I haven’t added more pieces with backgrounds and need to reorganize my zine portfolio, it is in a decent place where I feel like I can use it and it will accurately represent my best work. I also didn’t really purposefully experiment with rendering or brushes, but it did happen naturally a little, so giving that to myself too. As for the ONE of the following list, I actually did digitize my 30 minutes thumbnails! It’s just not to music, so doesn’t count. Also holy dang, last year Sakarrie was ambitious with the proposal of manufacturing a pin haha.

2024 Goals NOT Met:-Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November) -Design CS Charm-Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 10 times throughout the year) and add my best pieces to instagram (8+ pieces by end of year). -Draw something from scratch every month, no matter how small

Yeah, these all I absolutely failed with. Oops. Probably gonna be using a fair few of these as my new goals haha.

Alrighty then, now it’s time for 2024 goals!! I think I want my main focus to be to try to draw more frequently. I’ve found that so much of what prevents me from drawing is startup energy, and once I actually get going, it all comes much easier. 

Specific goals: -Organize a go-to zine portfolio for comics, merch, page art, and spot art applications -Try to draw every month (even the tiniest phone doodle counts) -Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November?) -Design CS Charm-Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 5 times throughout the year) and maybe look into Cara or whatever the non-instagram art app is. -Experiment more with drawing in sketchy art style with full color/rendering -Experiment more with screenshot redraw/character replacements -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes put to music      2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail      3. Fanworks for other people’s fics       4. Participate in an event with art       5. Draw and post for a new/niche fandom (Infinity Train, Sym-Biotic Titan, Irondad, The Flash, etc)

Overall, how’d the year go? Better than I expected when I first started pulling up my art haha. I didn’t push myself on anything but the CS comic, and that was pretty early on in the year. I also did a fair few doodle/sketch projects and followed the muse when it wanted to do rendering without drawing.

[bitchinbarzal]

House,Again | Jake x Morgan

Inspired by: “House Again��� by Hudson Westbrook

Timeline: Post-trade / breakup, before they reconcile

The first night without him, Morgan didn’t sleep.

The second night, she cried herself into dreams she wouldn’t remember.

By the third, she stopped setting two coffee mugs out on the counter.

But she still couldn’t bring herself to erase him.

Not the mug he left beside the sink.

Not the hoodie he’d tossed over the back of the couch, still smelling like cedar and comfort and home.

Not the framed photo on the hallway table—Jake holding her from behind, chin on her shoulder, both of them grinning into the sun like they were invincible.

That version of them lived in this house.

And without him?

It wasn’t a home. It was just a place she existed in.

Morgan had told everyone the breakup was mutual. Clean. Respectful.

And it was, technically.

Jake had gotten the call—he was traded to Minnesota. It was happening fast. Physicals. Travel. Camp. They had days, not weeks.

And then he sat her down, voice steady but eyes already mourning her, and said, “You’ve built your whole life here. Your studio, your clients. You’d resent me if I asked you to leave all that behind.”

She’d blinked at him. “So you’re not going to ask?”

Jake had smiled gently, heartbreak written into the curve of his mouth. “You know I want you to come.”

“But you’re not going to ask.”

He’d kissed her, soft and sad. “I want you to stay proud of who you are. You deserve that.”

And then he left.

Weeks passed.

The sun still rose, but it never reached the same corners of her apartment.

Her hands still sketched, but her designs felt lifeless. Empty. Like she’d lost the color in her head somewhere between the airport and goodbye.

She tried dating apps.

She lasted eleven minutes.

She tried going out with friends.

She spent the night checking the Wild’s box score in the corner of her phone.

She pretended it didn’t matter.

That she didn’t miss him when she rolled over and reached for nothing.

That she didn’t sometimes replay voicemails just to hear his voice again.

It was a Thursday when it happened.

She came home from a client fitting, exhausted and sweaty, and dropped her keys on the counter—right next to the chipped mug he used every morning.

She hadn’t even realized she was still washing it.

Still putting it back in the same spot. Still acting like he might walk through the door at any minute.

The silence hit her all at once.

The empty apartment.

The half-full drawer of his stuff she couldn’t throw out.

The jacket still hanging by the door.

She walked into the kitchen, chest aching, hands trembling—and opened her phone.

His name was still at the top. Still starred.

She hesitated.

And then she pressed “Call.”

“Hello?”

His voice was deeper. Rougher. Like he’d just woken up or had been crying. She couldn’t tell which.

Morgan’s breath caught. “Hi.”

Silence.

Then:

“Morgan?”

“Yeah.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “I… didn’t think I’d ever hear from you.”

Morgan swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to call. I tried not to.”

“Then why now?”

She looked around the kitchen. At the cup. The counter. The photo taped to the fridge.

“Because you left,” she said, voice cracking, “and I never got to say anything.”

Jake was quiet for a beat.

Then—carefully:

“Morgan, if you’re calling to blame me for leaving, I—”

“I would’ve gone with you.”

Silence.

Morgan pressed a hand to her chest. “I would’ve packed up everything and gone. I would’ve figured it out. Because it wasn’t about the city or the studio or the clients. It was about you. You left because you thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t even ask.”

Jake’s breath hitched. “I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

“And I thought we were supposed to be doing things together.” Her voice broke. “I would’ve followed you to Minnesota. I would’ve followed you anywhere, Jake.”

Another long silence.

Then—so soft it hurt

“I wanted to ask you. I wanted to beg you to come.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I thought I didn’t deserve to be the reason you gave up your dream.”

Morgan’s eyes welled. “You were never the reason I gave up anything. You were the reason I dreamed bigger.”

Jake sounded wrecked. “I miss you. Every day. I miss your voice and your bad jokes and your horrible morning coffee. I miss walking past your sketches and hearing you mutter to yourself. I miss you.”

“I live in our house, Jake,” Morgan whispered. “But it’s not a home anymore.”

“You need to make it home, Morgs. This is your life now”

[wildestdreamcatcher]

Ribbons

Summary: Summer and Kurt talk for the first time in so long.

TW: Mentions of sex, pregnancy

I sat outside the club, waiting for Jude to finish talking to everyone and packing everything from his and Kai’s set. I hadn’t been to a Wine Cellar show in 4 months since I got pregnant. It felt awkward going anywhere in Coralie because everyone knew I was pregnant and everyone had something to say about it, but we weren’t in Coralie. We were in Wilmington; only about 10 people here knew us. I didn’t expect one of those people to be Kurt but I saw her on stage. She wore a sleeved purple corset with dark purple details and a long flowy skirt. I hadn’t seen her in so long and it was a year since everything went down between us.

I don’t know how I would describe Kurt and I’s relationship or if I could even describe it as one. We hooked up for 4 months, from May to the beginning of last January but I ended it. I hadn’t been with a girl before and I didn’t even know Kurt that well before it started. I saw her around at school and I always thought she seemed cool. I knew she was best friends with Mindy, and she was friends with Roxanne. She was on cheer and I had homeroom with her in sophomore year, but I didn't really know her. I felt like I didn't know her until she kissed me for the first time. I spent 4 months having “fantasies” but I never let myself think too long about it. I liked the way we kissed and the way she let me take the lead when I wanted to or how she guided me through it when I wanted that, too. I remembered the way her perfume smelled or the posters in her room. I ended it right after New Year's. It felt like time had run its course and I didn't think it mattered to her. And I never followed up on anything because by the end of January, I was hooking up with Jude, and now a year later, I was pregnant with his baby. It's funny how time moves so quickly. 

Kurt was sitting on the steps when I walked out. 

“You can sit down here, Summer. I’m not going to stop you.”

 I just nodded slowly and sat down, smoothing the fabric of my sundress. 

 “Is it true? The pregnancy, I mean. ” She asked. It was like she couldn't imagine that I could be in this situation. I didn't believe it myself until my doctor confirmed it.

“Yeah.” 

Kurt sighed. She looked at me with pity. 

“Why Jude? I mean you ended it so you could hook up with him, right?

“No. I ended it because I didn't think it needed to go on that long. We're so different Kurt, it wouldn't have worked. 

“Like you and Jude aren't?”

 I wondered if Kurt was drunk. It was like all of her thoughts spewed out of her mouth, venom covering each word. She was right: Jude and I were different but it wasn't a bad thing. We had shit in common: we liked the same music and collectibles, we had the same humor, we bonded over how much we disliked our younger siblings, we used to go surfing every day after school, we liked the same art, we’re both water signs and I think that means we were twin flames. 

“Please don’t be a bitch, Kurt, I don’t want to hear it. Why are you so pissed at me anyway?” 

She looked at me like I should already know the answer. I could never figure her out. I used to write poems about her or try to figure out when I sketched her in watercolors or charcoal. I was always mesmerized by her black and purple bangs, her jewelry, her clothing, her makeup, the perfume she wore, everything about her intrigued me. When I was cleaning out my bedroom to decide what wanted to pack for when I moved out, I found her hand chain bracelet. The base had a long chain with a ring at the end, a trail of red jewels lay on the band. I never gave it back, it was far too awkward to give it to her at school or carry it around hoping I’d see her around town, so it just remained in a drawer in my vanity. It was something so simple but it just captivated me. Maybe Kurt used to have that effect on me?

“Why wouldn’t I be mad at you? I actually liked you, I really did and you just ditched me for some boy you hadn’t spoken to in 2 years. I remember what happened Summer. We were at his concert and we all started talking to each other backstage: you laughed and giggled with him for 3 hours, and then you left in his van after eye fucking each other the whole time. You fucked him like a week after you ended things between us. Of course, I’m pissed!”

I never had sex with Jude that night. Sure, I left with him and we went to his van, but we never fucked. I remembered it all very clearly in my head: I smoked more weed with him in his van and we played in the water like little kids, splashing each other with the saltwater waves like we used to do when were kids. We talked about how we both had read a book that week about the Acali Raft, we talked about The Muppets, how we were upset about missing the Stevie Nicks concert in Charlotte, and a bunch of other random shit. We did a lot of things that night but I didn’t hook up with him, not until February. 

“Why would you think I fucked him that night?! We just talked. Is that hard for you to believe?”

I could’ve sworn she scoffed at me.

“I can’t believe me but why does it matter to you? I wasn’t sleeping with you both at the same time, I wasn’t dating either of you, and you didn’t even talk to me. It shouldn’t piss you off that bad.

“Why Jude, though? Are you even happy with him or are you just trying to stay together for the baby?”

I was incredibly happy with him and I didn’t feel the need to defend my emotions to anyone, especially not to someone who wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said. I promised myself I wouldn’t stay with Jude just because were having a kid together. I didn’t want to be with someone I wasn’t truly in love with, I was so scared of looking back on my life and realizing I had spent years with someone I regretted being with. That couldn’t be how Jude and I lived our lives. It wouldn’t matter what I said to Kurt because I knew she was moving to Europe after we graduated.

It wouldn’t matter where Jude and I ended up because whether we stayed in Coralie Ridge or ended up oceans away in Helsinki, the world was too big for us to ever run into each other again. 

@jackvaginal @vommitgirl @sadlonelyyogurt @blowflygrls

[andro-dino]

pls share anything you want about fleeting spirits (axyl+zhaoxing if i didn't mistake the shipping name) i love them so much,, for example any specific scenes or ideas you have about their relationship or with ppl around them?

waaaaaaa 🥹🥹🥹🥹 I too love them dearly

One scene that I had in mind for ages that I wanted to fully draw out that I don’t know if I’ll ever get to is when they finally actually end up confessing to each other. It’s very very dorky and awkward and accidental and I wouldn’t imagine it other way. I actually have it semi sketched out and the dialogue written, I just never got around to cleaning it up proper. I’d probably wanna change the first two lines of dialogue, but the main idea with it is that axyl ends up saying something that implies his interest in Zhouxing and Zhouxing gets way too excited about it and accidentally ends up spontaneously confessing and both of them are very surprised about it

they r dumb and I care about them <3

I’m sure I have more snippets and things I’ve imagined with them before but my brain cannot recall a lot of them.

One thing that I have thought a bit about that’s both mostly for shits and gigs but also to explore some different aspects of their relationship a little bit more is how both of them deal with their jealousy. Zhouxing, though he’s mostly good about it, has his moments of being a little possessive of Axyl at times (this is where me giving him beef with the sodo twins actually originated), and he kinda hates it about himself because he thinks being jealous and possessive is totally uncool and it makes him cringe whenever he catches himself feeling or acting like that. I think it would probably lead to a little moment where Axyl reassures him that it’s okay for him to feel jealous sometimes and that he’s not a bad person for it, and that it matters more that he’s not doing anything bad because of that feeling and knows that Axyl is there for him and loyal.

On axyl’s end, I think I’ve talked about this a little before, but they tend to end up a bit more sad and closed off with their jealousy. I think even after they start dating openly, Zhouxing is still pretty popular and tends to get swarmed in public and whatnot, which usually ends up with axyl getting overwhelmed and slipping away, not wanting to bring down the mood by letting Zhouxing know or anything. I think he just generally gets a little insecure when things like that happen and wonders a lot what he can really provide for Zhouxing, though it’ll usually end up with Zhouxing going to go find him and sitting down with them and reminding them just how much he cares about it and how he wouldn’t want to change anything about them.

OH ACTUALLY I JUST REMEMBERED ONE. continuing my #1 Zhouxing hater Chiyun agenda, one idea that I really enjoy is like, a group training session where Zhouxing goes to help Axyl and he’s doing it in that very cheesy way where he’s like, putting his hands on their hands while they’re holding their launcher to show him the proper technique or whatever, and like, he is technically actually helping but I can just imagine Chiyun in the distance looking on at them with a quiet expression of disgust. Daxiang tells him to lighten up and that he should be happy for them but he just. really does not want to be.

Essi is also funny with these two, because on the one hand, she is very happy for axyl (if a little judgmental about its tastes in men) and glad that they’re good for each other, but on the other hand, she is absolutely going down the protective big sister path and is CONSTANTLY glaring at Zhouxing and sizing him up to see if he’s really good enough for axyl. She does not openly say that she is doing this though, so Zhouxing is generally just kinda really confused a little bit scared about why his partner’s sister is constantly trying to kill him with her eyes

[mollymagician]

New chapter of Translation of the Dream is up.

(Finally 😬)

They walked along the river. The wind was cutting. Hob mourned the fact that he’d launched out the door with a mystical fucking banana peel in his pocket but left his hat and gloves behind. Dream walked silently beside him, looking like he didn’t feel the cold at all and somehow simultaneously like the most resigned of human popsicles, hands jammed into his coat pockets and collar turned up against the wind. Hob wished again for his gloves, at least, for a completely different reason.

They walked in silence another half block farther before Dream blurted out, “I wished to. Apologize.”

Hob looked at him, feeling the confusion plain on his face. “What in the world for?”

“For what happened that day. At the pub.”

“What, for making me think I was having a complete mental break?” Hob asked. Dream made a small distressed noise, drowned out as Hob plowed on. “Forgiven. Or for embarrassing a dickhead who was harassing my staff? No apology necessary for that, mate.”

“Hob.”

“Earned you free drinks for life as far as I’m concerned.”

Dream’s expression was pained. Hob knew he could inspire that look on just about anyone when he really got going with the razzing, but this had an extra edge it it. Dream huffed impatiently and it curled away in the chill like dragon’s breath. “It was wrong of me. To…lose my composure. I promised I’d never again…” He looked away out over the glinting dark water and hunched down further into the shelter of his woefully inadequate coat.

Hob lifted an eyebrow. “If that was you losing your composure, I’d hate to see what happens when you get properly pissed off.”

“Yes,” Dream said quietly. “You would.”

Okay, then. Hob’s mouth clicked shut and he looked straight ahead down the pavement. He was wildly out of his depth, here, and he knew it. But. He’d spent so much of his life already throwing himself into things without knowing if he would ever touch bottom, so why start now?

“Make it up to me,” he said.

Dream’s eyes flew to his face, wide and blank.

“You wanted to apologize? Make it up to me by telling me what it was I saw.”

They’d stopped walking, he realized. Dream turned to face him, gaze locked to his. It was the longest stretch of unbroken eye contact that they’d shared and Hob felt it like a charge up his spine. Whatever it was Dream was looking for, he must have found, because after a moment he tipped his head to the side and said, “This way.” Once again Hob was following.

They crossed into a narrow lane between the nearest two buildings, thankfully out of the wind. The way opened into a small common yard between three blocks of flats, shabby but clean. An elderly fountain stood in the center, looking like it had been dry for a long time. Someone had perched a pair of candles in tall glass holders on the edge, burned down far enough to stay lit in the wind that occasionally still made its way into the sheltered space.

Dream folded his gangly frame to sit on the edge of the fountain and Hob did the same, gazing around them curiously. They were alone. The windows around them were mostly dark, a few reflecting flickering late-night screen glow. He wanted to ask. Which one is yours? You know the way to my door, can I know the way to yours? The curiosity burned like a coal, but he knew better.

Dream puffed out a breath, curling steam, and said, “I can make things. Real. When I draw them with my hands.”

Hob blinked.

Dream reached into his battered satchel and drew out his sketchbook. Flipping it open, he took up the pencil that was jammed in like a bookmark and began to softly sketch. “I discovered that I was had the…ability…when I was young enough to be foolish but old enough to know it was strange. Keeping the knowledge to myself was, perhaps, the least foolish thing I have ever done.”

It was the most that Hob had heard him say at one go, as though the words had been piling up as they walked together in silence, and now he had a queue waiting to work it’s way out. It was easier to mark, now that there was more of it, how oddly formal his speech was. He spoke like he moved, as though every word needed to be set down carefully, or something would break. Hob watched his fingers guiding the pencil in careful strokes over the paper. The streetlights were too far, it was too dark in the faint flickering light of the candles to see what he was drawing. “How…did you figure it out?” he asked, slowly.

“I drew a raven,” Dream said. “And it flew off the page in front of me

“Oh,” Hob said. Of course, I hate it when that happens was right behind it but he beat the words back with a mental stick.

“I saw her…I supposed it to be a her…outside my window. Nearly every day. She must have been nesting nearby. I thought she was interesting. I’d never seen one marked before like she was—“ he gestured with his opposite hand at his own chest, the first nearly casual movement Hob had seen him make—“with white banding her chest. I drew her, one day, as carefully as I could. I wished I could…” He stopped, and the pencil stopped. Hob watched him stare down past the paper, into the dark at his feet.

“I wished I could be with her, somehow. I wished I could be free like she was.”

The way he said it made something curl nervously in Hob’s gut.

The soft scratching of the pencil picked back up again. “I’ve learned how it…works…over the years. It’s easier when the image is. True to life. But.” Hob could see him turning the words over in his mind. Keeping the knowledge to myself whispered back through his mind, and he almost jumped in, almost told him to stop, that he didn’t need to know. But it would have been an enormous lie. He did need to know. He’d never burned to know anything the way he did this. Not knowing would drive him completely mad.

Dream said, “There has to be. A desire. To create or have the thing. I can intend to make a thing I do not want, but it won’t work without the desire to have it. Or. To gift it. To someone.” Now Hob could see what he’d drawn. It was a poppy, he realized, perfectly rendered in spare, clean lines. Dream dropped the pencil and let it roll into the gutter of the book. Long fingers touched the page, were still for a moment, and then there was that strange little gesture. Even this close it was hard to follow.

Dream lifted his hand and held the flower out, offering it to Hob with a look as though he expected to be bit.

Hob took it gingerly in one hand. Scarlet, heavy with pollen. Real. The page was blank.

“Christ,” Hob whispered. “That is…incredible.”

Dream’s expression softened and his gaze dropped his knees. “I suppose you could say so.”

“You suppose?” Hob sputtered. “I just…you…” He blew out a long, long breath, until he was empty, then drew it back in through his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dream replied, softly.

“Yeah.” Hob toyed with the poppy. “So, what, does this run in your family? Your da knew how to talk to animals or…?”

For a long moment the only sound was the distant din of traffic from down the street. “Perhaps. I don’t know,” Dream said, slowly. “I do not know my biological parents.”

Of course, Hob thought. Christ. He wasn’t sure his gob could handle being any more smacked this evening, but he had the sinking feeling that they weren’t done. Bracing himself, he said, “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

Dream opened his mouth, struggling with his words again. Hob just barely caught his lips trembling and almost regretted prodding, but what was done was done.

Dream asked, slowly, “Do you recall the name Roderick Burgess?”

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Lacey: Chapter 20

August 22, 2023

I woke up at 8:45 AM. First time I’ve slept this late in over a decade. This meant that I had absolutely no time to eat breakfast - as work would start just 15 minutes later. Fun.

There was a ridiculous number of photos being stacked upon me to edit and send back. Parties, business, social media selfies - you name it. To top it off, I had to clean up and crop a sketch from one of Augusta’s old pals. I’m very careful with keeping my Archer J identity a secret. It’s not like I could have turned down the offer.

Anyways, I somehow managed to find the time to both catch up with my friends (and Lacey the not-friend) and go through the Music Refined submissions I got by the end of the day. To be fair, I didn’t get as much as usual from Music Refined. But I wasn’t living in occupational bliss like Lacey seemed to be either.

Speaking of Lacey, we had a fun conversation around the time I logged off from work. Of course, that didn’t mean I liked her. My main priorities were still to get her out of Music Refined and make that phony of a try-hard out to be a vile human being so I could play hero. But she did have some surprisingly good insights about how to improve someone’s singing - which I needed because Darian sent me a very flat sounding tape previewing a song of his in the show he was working on.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:34 PM): Hey Archer

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:35 PM): Hello, Lace-girl. Can I ask for some advice?

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:36 PM): What’s up?

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:38 PM): So…I have a friend who wants to star in a show and has potential when it comes to singing. However, his tone is very flat and only pitch correction can save him. I’m okay at singing - but nowhere as good as your angelic voice. Do you have any advice? He’d rather stay anonymous, by the way.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:40 PM): It’s nice you think of me as a beautiful singer, lol. Without knowing what he sounds like, I can’t help out all too much. I’m a content creator, not a coach. But, does he do any warmups? Know his vocal range?

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:41 PM): Um, he told me he does warm up for five seconds every now and then. He doesn’t know his vocal range, though.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:42 PM): Yeah…he should probably start with that. Anyhow, anything else going on?

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:43 PM): Doing pretty eh right now. Working two jobs hasn’t been too good to me!

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:44 PM): Damn, I can relate. I’ve been taking care of children for several weeks now on top of whatever-the-fuck Music Refined’s been throwing at me.

I then realized this was a good chance for me to get info on how Lacey’s been doing in the online writing world.

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:47 PM): Oh yeah, the publication. How’s that going?

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:48 PM): It’s going as fine as it can go.

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:50 PM): Care to elaborate?

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:51 PM): Nah XD

God damn it, I thought. I really need to get her to open up more.

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:53 PM): Look, you can always trust me if you want to talk about something. I’m here for you.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:54 PM): I’m gonna be honest with you for a second. After what went down with Micah last week, I don’t feel 100% comfortable talking about personal shit with you, y’know? I still really like talking to you. It’s just…

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:56 PM): Just what?

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 5:58 PM): Never mind. Don’t worry about it.

Archer J (08/22/23, 5:59 PM): Well, I kinda am.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 6:00 PM): Nothing, okay? Anyways, I’ve met Artsy and Lovergirl. You’re pretty good at making friends.

Sure I am, I cringed. Sure. Not like I didn’t let some tan blonde vixen fool me into outing my crush so I’d be able to stay friends with the former.

I logged out and had dinner. I had tried to make beef brisket for dinner earlier based on my grandma’s old recipe, but I eventually resorted to Internet instructions because I didn’t have the right ingredients at home for the former. Once I finished my nightly routine, I logged back into my accounts to deal with my socials.

I talked to Oscar today in a call for the first time. It was also the first time we had a private two-way conversation since the draft tampering shit happened a few days back. He told me he wanted to apply to Folkin and asked for advice as to what Corianna would reject beyond just what the submission guidelines said. I promised him that he’d be fine as long as his article met the criteria and he didn’t do something stupid. He hesitated to believe me at first, but he eventually felt more confident once I told him about how she had accepted an article critical of a Boygenius song after an initial inaccurate draft.

After talking to Oscar, I checked in with Corianna and Darian. Cori had gotten a large raise at work. It didn’t matter much since she’d be back in college soon like the rest of us, but she was happy with the little extra pocket money. In the meantime, Darian went to a family gathering on Sunday. His parents were there, and so were his cousins and older sister and grandparents. Lucky.

Just as I was about to text Inez, Lacey sent me this.

Lacey Hannah (08/22/23, 7:47 PM): I made this lil’ draft to send to the Writer’s Delight editors, any thoughts?

https://docs.google.com/aiqiiqiqiwjjajajaa

She didn’t even trust me enough to send the actual Medium draft link allowing me to leave notes on. Not that I would have, of course, but still. Just a document which I could only view. 

I clicked the link to open up the draft. After Discord begged me to consider reconsidering out of some strange phobia Google Docs would contain malware, the draft revealed itself to me in all its unfiltered glory.

As I scrolled through it, I hatched up a quick plan. I would give Lacey all the right advice for appealing to the tastes of the Writer’s Delight editors. Especially Vivian, the one who would be the most likely to side with Lacey if she fucked up. But I’d word it in all of the wrong ways so Lacey wouldn’t do what I asked of her. 

Instead, she’d do something either crazy or stupid or both. Once one of the biggest free publications on Medium resented her, she would be screwed big time in the online writing world. 

She’d be exactly where she should be for my goals.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1509691431-lacey-chapter-20)

[definitionsfading]

okay now that I've calmed down and finished the episode I will say they aren't EXACT matches, but the details are eerily similar with how they come to light lol. but we're told by a character named Rose (btw: I wrote a character named Primrose into the Alaska chapter of my fic lmao) that [S4 spoilers and post S1 fic excerpt below]

when Travis knew he was dying of leukemia he went out and slipped under the ice to drown himself, therefore committing suicide by drowning in a body of water.

here's what I wrote back in 2016: <<< Rust looks back out across the lake. He’d spent countless hours here in the spare moments of his youth, sketching and reading and throwing stones out across the dark water and his mind alike. If he closed his eyes anywhere else in the world he could envision this place—the smell of clean water, heady spruce and birch and pine needles, the cold rocks under his hands and feet. A serenity and quietness so real that you could almost step into it through memory alone.

It’s why he’d come here alone, the last time. He twists the band around the third finger on his left hand and knows it’s the same reason he needed to bring Marty this time around.

“It’s not such a bad sight,” Rust says. The line of his throat works for a moment, skin prickling with something that isn’t cold under his coat. He doesn’t know if he can talk but he knows he needs to. “I thought it would be a fitting place, once—something to see one last time.”

Marty turns to look at him, blinking like he’d been shaken out of a daydream. “What was that?”

“I know my Pop came here,” Rust says, wetting his bottom lip before he keeps on. “When he decided he had to end things. I figure I always knew it’d be out here somewhere, peaceful-like. Where he wasn’t under anybody else’s time or obligation.”

Marty leans back where he sits to process that. His head is slightly cocked to one side, like an old dog trying to pick up something it’d heard in the distance. “I don’t know what you’re saying, Rust,” he says, and Rust thinks he means it. “Your—your dad? You said he killed himself.”

“He always said he’d get his gun and his knife and take the long walk out into the woods,” Rust says, faintly rasping around the words. “Ever since I was old enough to know what the fuck he was talking about. And I never really gave it too much thought, you know, because he’d get too far down the bottle and just talk. It didn’t mean anything real.”

“Shit, man,” Marty says, shaking his head. The line of his mouth pinches up for a moment while he contemplates the reality of all that. “That’s rough. It’s just—it’s a fucking shame, you know.”

Rust isn’t thinking about Travis anymore, though. He’s balancing on the brink of somebody else’s story, and while they might’ve crisscrossed once upon a time he knows they won’t ever end the same.

“But there came a time later—a time when I thought about what he’d always said,” Rust says. “And I knew it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go out. Out in nature, where you could see a little bit of beauty in the fucking world. Where you wouldn’t have to worry about nothing anymore.”

“Rust,” is all Marty says. He’s gone pale, jaw set into a hard line. His eyes aren’t even really looking at Rust now, almost like he can’t stand to bear it. “What are you saying?”

Rust lets out a shaky breath into the cold air, trying to ignore the aching tightness in his chest. “I’m telling you I came up here, Marty, couple months before I realized I needed to go back down to Louisiana,” he says. “I’d sold most everything off but there were some boxes in storage, all the things I’d kept and gathered on the Lange case up ‘til ‘09—wrapped them up, left your work address on them. I figured at least that much would get into good hands.”

Marty’s looking at him now, hurt starting to pull tight around his eyes. Like he already knows the answers but he’s still got to find it in himself to ask. “Why’d you do it?”

“I got here and I was trying to find a good reason not to,” Rust says, feeling the resolve in his voice begin to come apart. “But by that time I didn’t have anything left, Marty. My daughter had been dead for twenty years and I—I wasn’t ever gonna see her grown. My Pop was gone, and I’d spent eight years between fishing boats and bars after I left Louisiana, trying to drink myself to fucking death. But it wasn’t working fast enough.”

“It would’ve been easy, then,” Rust says, wiping a hand across his eyes. “I thought I’d finally worked up the fuckin’ nerve to go through with it. I had my gun, but there was thin ice on the lake at the time. All I really had to do was walk out—and not fight it anymore.” >>>

not only did I imply Travis died on the water, I had Rust imply he was going to do the same thing at some point before he came back to Louisiana in 2010. are you fucking joking mate. anyway. great value brand prophecy

true detective girlies no spoilers but I am shaking and sweating and shaking and sweating and screaming. I predicted something about a canonical character from true detective S1 in a fic I finished eight years ago and it came true tonight in S4. if you've read "what we've got" you have to dm me because I'm in borderline shock lmao

[creative-crybaby]

Cross-Hatching

PAIRING: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS + WARNINGS: none, as far as I'm aware

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY: An eye-catching stranger on the train soon becomes your muse when you take out your sketchbook and pencil.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: omg no smut???? Who is she 😩😩😩

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

Train rides to work would be more tolerable if you weren’t shrinking your entire body to make room for the dozens of people crowding in. 

You’re usually lucky when entering; the transit only carries a few passengers when you first enter, and you find yourself a seat. It isn’t until a few stops in do the train doors open to anyone who needs it, and your eyes glance at the map as if it’ll pass any time. 

You’re ten stops from your destination when he enters your train car. 

A tall figure with a briefcase and a cream coat makes his way through person after person, lucky enough to catch a newly vacant seat near you. Three seats across from yours, to be more precise. After making himself comfortable, he takes a deep breath, running a hand through tufts of onyx hair, trying to clean it up. In a rush, you assume. His attempts do little to fix the mess, but you think the slight wildness suits him—juxtaposing how he carries himself.

You have to draw him.

Practicing anatomy is something you try to do whenever you can, and while drawing strangers isn’t unheard of, you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding. When they’re letting their guard down, someone they don’t know turns that fleeting moment into a memory.

But what they don’t understand is that an artist doesn’t view it like that. And with the stranger sitting only a few seats away, why not take that opportunity?

You’re quick to take out your pencil and mini sketchbook, flipping to a blank page to scratch shapes upon shapes for a human base. You occasionally glance at the map to calculate your remaining time, not wasting a second as every scratch of graphite on paper becomes more and more life-like. 

Seven more stops. Your rough sketch is complete, and you erase excess lines and circles of a skeleton. 

Five more stops. You fill in the darker spots with cross hatches, creating definition to his cream coat while adding to the mesmerizing mess that is his hair.

Three more stops. Barely done with the shading, and now you move on to all the little details, from the light hitting his glasses to the almost unnoticeable downward curl of his lips. Not upset; just pondering. 

One more stop. You rise from your seat, forcing all hesitation out of your system with every step forward.

“Excuse me,” you push the volume into your voice. Blueberry eyes shielded by thick-rimmed glasses peer up at you. 

“Yes?” He hums. You almost forget your reason for approaching him, his gaze and soothing voice tempting you to carve every detail into your memory.

Not knowing how long time has passed since anything has been said, you hastily hold the drawing out before him. “I just wanted to give you this.”

You could have said more; you probably should have. Easier said than done when your words jumble around in your head, away from your planned sentences that never got to leave your brain. 

The organ then shortcircuits when you catch the corners of the stranger’s lips tilt upwards, his sharp eyes softening as he takes your creation. 

“You drew this?” As gentle as his voice may be, you could hear it over the bustling of the crowded train car, your surroundings almost tuned out to give him your devoted attention. You don’t trust yourself to speak properly, so you nod meekly. The ravenette hums again, his focus returning to your portrait of him.

“I’d do a better job if I had more time,” you stammer, suddenly talkative. “I hope I didn’t weird you out or anything—sometimes I like to draw people when I have the chance.”

“No, no,” he insists, peering back at you. “I’m just flattered, is all.” The stranger adjusts his glasses before adding, “Had I known I would be a model, I would have cleaned myself up a bit more.”

You giggle airily: a joke, it must be. “You’re still plenty pretty to draw.”

Your words register with a slap as soon as they leave your lips, and your eyes widen. The man’s expression copies yours, with a soft pink tint caressing his cheeks.

A woman’s voice announces your stop, and you think the gods finally decided to show you some mercy. You barely stutter a goodbye when the train comes to a halt before pushing past whoever stands in your way. 

The exhale that leaves your lungs comes out like a squeak when you find your way out of the metro. The opportunity to breathe presents itself as the crowd disperses, heading to the exit or their next train. You join the former group, your interaction with the stranger playing on a loop as you climb the stairs. 

“Excuse me.” 

A hand lands on your shoulder when you make it to the top. You squeak, whipping your head around to confront the culprit.  

Your muse stands before you, his eyes widening ever so slightly in concern. 

“Oh,” you relax. “It’s just you.”

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he retracts before holding out his other hand. You turn around to face him; in his hold is your sketchbook. You subconsciously clutch your bag, feeling the emptiness those one-hundred-sixty pages filled. “You left this behind.”

You take a moment to process his words before hastily taking your book back, a string of apologies leaving your lips. “Missed your stop to give this back to me, too.”

The man shakes his head reassuringly. “This was also my stop, actually.”

You two are still at the top of the stairs, hoards of people passing by during your pause in time. You don’t hear whatever they’re saying to each other or on the phone, nor do you notice the impatient ones who emphasize their movements when they walk around you.

“That’s good.” You don’t know what else to say. 

“I also thought I should introduce myself,” he continues, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m Akaashi Keiji.” You nod, noticing his fingers fidgeting in their intertwined hold. You almost wonder what they’d feel laced with your own before responding with your name. “I figured I should tell you after you took the time to draw me.”

The man–Akaashi–offers a light smile. Even as stoic as he appeared in the short amount of time you’ve interacted, there’s a soothingness to his voice that has you relaxing your shoulders. 

“Right,” you chuckle in embarrassment. “I meant to just give you the drawing, not the whole sketchbook. My bad.”

The stranger shakes his head reassuringly before taking his first step forward. You subconsciously follow him toward the exit, eyes remaining on his portrait. 

“I figured as much,” he says, stepping away from the door to let the others pass, and you follow him. He looks down at the sketchbook. "I didn't want to take out the drawing, just in case."

A light breeze fans your face as the sun’s glow kisses your skin. If it weren’t for your new acquaintance standing in the way, you’d have to squint just to see ahead. It’s also here that you realize this is most likely where you part ways, and you refrain from frowning. You selfishly wonder if not bringing it up will make him forget and keep him around. Unfortunately for you, your boss won’t care for your pretty-boy-meet-cute excuse. You mask your sigh of disappointment as any other deep exhale.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to take any more of your time,” you tell him, clutching the strap of your bag. “Thanks again for returning my sketchbook to me.”

“It was no problem, really,” Akaashi insists. “If I could bother you a little more, could you hand me your book and pencil, please? I promise I won’t take long.”

You wouldn’t mind even if he did, but you don’t voice that. Instead, you do as he asked, waiting as he flips through the pages until he stops at one and lightly scribbles something down. Your new acquaintance returns the sketchbook to you with that same page open: it’s the one of him you drew not even ten minutes ago, and next to his head is a series of numbers in between dashes. Your head snaps to look at him once more, eyes wide and face warm.

Akaashi smiles gently. “You’re not obligated to agree to anything, but I’d love it if we could meet up for coffee sometime.” When you continue to stare in bewilderment, he quickly glances at his watch. “I’ll have to leave now, but your portrait of me was a nice start to my morning.” His body slowly turns the other way. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“Wait!” you exclaim before you can stop yourself. Akaashi halts his movements. “I usually give my art to the person I drew. I won’t be able to call you if your number’s on your portrait.”

The ravenette turns his head to face you again, a soft smile gracing his lips and a sharp glimmer in his eyes. “If you want, you can give it to me on our next encounter.”

He leaves you standing there with another goodbye, your feet planted on the concrete, face blooming with heat and sketchbook in hand. 

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[eijirousbestie]

I’m not sure if my request have been sent to you or not but here we ge. Bakugou drawing with reader this time just quite and pace a day later he would notice reader putting his drawing in a nice and viable place in her wall like she is proud of him , im craving for some fluff🥹

Yes I got your last request too!! I try to crank these new stories out at least twice a month cuz of daily life but I got around to it today🫵🏽 I’ll combine ur last request with this one since it’s kinda the same premise. As always thank y’all for reading and I hope you enjoy! If y’all have any special requests PLS SHARE THEM WITH ME!! I’d love to write them<33

“Stick to art.”

painting together

peaceful silence

Bakugou is actually good at painting

may or may not have based the painting off of one I actually made…

* * *

“For the love of god will you stop hogging all the white paint?”

“Quit whinin’ will ya? I’ll hand it back just give me a sec here.” You in fact did not get the paint back in a few seconds. With the way he’s got it in a death grip you’re not entirely sure it’ll survive the trip back to you.

“Katsuki, your knuckles are literally turning white from how hard you’re squeezing the tube. You don’t even need that much.”

“You know the more you talk the less “enjoyable” this bright idea of yours is.” He places the tube of paint down on the ground next to your knee.

You both are in your dorm room, your usual tarp covering the flooring under you from any stray paint splatters. It was your grand idea to have the both of you paint together. Actually, it was to prove to Bakugou that painting wasn’t as easy as he chucked it up to be. It started with his comments about your art earlier in the week. You were working on another project for class and spent hours painting and refining the details. The boisterous blonde disrupted your thoughts in place of his own. Why the hell’s this taking so long? It’s just an apple, he’d question. To him, a painting should never take more than at least two hours tops. If anything, watching you paint for hours on end was the coolest thing to him because how could someone have that much patience? He’d never admit it though. And now here you both are, having a painting session in your room to prove to him it’s not as easy as he thinks.

Grabbing the now freed white paint you add a small glob of it to your palette, mixing the specific color you needed. You both have already been painting for almost an hour. It’s Saturday and you didn’t have anything better to do. Before you both started, you’d searched Pinterest for painting ideas. Scrolling through various cartoon characters, Bakugou settles on painting a simple white skull against a black background. The reference is such a him choice. You chose yours a little while after him but refused to tell him your idea. He rolled his eyes and started sketching on the small canvas you’d given him, occasionally asking you if his proportions were accurate.

You both had fallen into a quiet peace. The windows drawn to let the last bits of sun in. The soft sounds of your music thrumming through your small speaker. The slosh of water being dirtied up in solo cups as Bakugou cleans his brush. Just all around good vibes and harmless bickering here and there. You swear you’ve never seen him so relaxed, other than the time he fell asleep while you were drawing him. You look up from your canvas and catch a glimpse of Bakugou’s face. Trimmed eyebrows pinched together in a stare of pure concentration, his lips slightly tucked in as he works on the details of the skull.

His painting technique is quite impressive. Understandably not to your level, but if he took art seriously he could be one hell of an artist. The way he changes the pressure of his grip when outlining the teeth of the skull has you eyeing his piece in astonishment. Where the hell did he learn that from?

“You gonna keep starin’ at my shit or are you actually gonna give your input.” Your gaze lifts from his painting to him. You give a slightly confused look.

“Wait what.”

“Asked if I was doing this line stuff right but you looked lost as hell. Told you to leave that dope alone.” You roll your eyes.

“Ya mama. And yeah you’re doing it right. Just don’t make em too thick.” He side eyes you so hard you’re sure his eyes are about to roll out of his head.

“You’re lucky I’m goin’ to therapy.”

“Aren’t we all.” You give a brief chuckle and continue to work on your painting. The light pink background against the chosen figures ties the whole piece together. A particular song plays from the shuffle queue of your music library. It’s one that you and Bakugou both know. You quietly hum along, bobbing your head. Your ears pick up a rather deep tremor that joins your humming. He’s humming along too, eyes laser focused on his work. In the most non-corny way possible, you try to harmonize with him, doing decent until you miss a note halfway through. He makes sure you’re aware he noticed.

“Stick to art.” He snickers, shoulders softly shaking.

“Mind your business.”

“I’ll do what I wanna do.” He retorts. He’s so sassy and for what.

Another couple hours pass and you’ve both finished your paintings. Katsuki lifts his painted skull with pride, his ego through the roof. It’s actually a pretty solid painting. Albeit, simple, but not bad at all.

“Goddamn Kats, you didn’t do half bad.” You chide with a grin.

“Damn right. Told you this shit’s easy. Just gotta get over gettin stuck in the details.”

“That’s funny because you asked for my help with line work but go off I guess.”

“You’re just a resource. Gotta use what I can to get where I need to be.”

“Damnnn ouch. That’s all I am to you? Katsuki I’m hurt.” You feign heartbreak as you dramatically hold your hand over your heart.

“Idiot. You gonna show me what you ended up paintin’ or not?” You nod, grabbing your canvas and flipping it over to show him your piece.

His eyes are met with an image of two bears, one white, one brown. Their cheeks are smushed together in some sort of side hug. The brown bear does not look amused. He clicks his tongue and tilts his head.

“You really love cutesy shit don’t you?”

You shrug. “Not my fault the Pinterest bears were cute. Stay mad but I’m in my bag.”

“The fuck’s that even mean-”

“Shhh you’re being a hater right now.” He shakes his head as he chuckles deeply, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“Yeah you’re really lucky I’m in therapy.” You laugh with him and reach for his painting that he left on the ground.

“You gonna leave this behind after you worked so hard on it?” You question. He shrugs.

“Don’t really got a place for it. I ain’t really into displaying things like you. You keep it or something.” You hold onto both paintings as he announces his departure to his room.

The next morning, he wakes up and starts his usual routine. Shower, brushing his teeth and skincare. The shuffle of his house shoes fills the quiet of the halls as he journeys to your room to make sure you’re up to go on your Sunday morning run together. He knocks once, twice and gets no reply. He jiggles the doorknob and he finds it unlocked, meaning you’re probably not inside. He opens your door and looks around to find no you. But what he does find makes his face go warm. There on the wall adjacent to the door, hangs his skull painting right next to yours. A ghost of a smile graces his lips as he shakes his head, closing the door to your room to go and grab you for your run.

bonus: the paintings y’all made

Bakugou’s:

Yours: *optional*

fun fact this is actually a painting I made a few months ago😭

[weatheredleatherhat]

Inked (Karl Heisenberg x gender neutral reader)

Alright, so basically I should be asleep, but I’m too excited about the fact that I’m FINALLY getting my half sleeve tomorrow. Like I’ve got like eleven tattoos now (I constantly forget some because I can’t see them daily like the ones behind my ears and the one on my lower back), but I still get that little thrill whenever my appointment date comes around. I already know it’s gonna be fuckin’ spicy, I can practically feel it already.

But then I got to thinking about Heisenberg (as you do), and how I’d want nothing more than for him to gimme some ink 👀 Remember kids, do your research, think your designs through and go to someone reputable! Not gonna lie I’m real tempted to get the tattoo described in this fic lmao. Or I was thinking about getting his key on my arm to keep filling in the slowly growing lower sleeve? Anyway, if I do it, I’ll be sharing it on here. 

Sorry, enough rambling on. Enjoy!! 

“You sure about this?”

His eyebrow raised as he looked up towards your face, searching for any clue that you wanted to back out. You huffed a little, impatient to get started as you repositioned on the metal table to get yourself as comfortable as you could be. “I’m sure,” you promised. “Just get started when you’re ready, and don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”

Karl had always been fascinated with your tattoos. Considering he’d never left the village, the act of pushing ink into skin was pretty much unheard of, and he’d only ever seen a couple in pictures. But when you’d showed up, when you started to become closer and platonic had become romantic, you could feel his fingertips brush over them occasionally during an intimate moment. He’d asked about them; what they were or what they meant to you, and you answered with a smile on your face. Your tattoos meant a lot to you; you had suffered hours of pain to get them, had babied them as they healed and put up with the itchiness that drove you up the wall a couple of days into the healing.

You knew that he was good with machines, and that he knew how to keep things sterile and clean. Plus, he had this knack for art that not many knew about. Soldat designs, schematics, even a couple of portraits, you’d seen dextrous fingers sketch things out with a look of concentration plain on his face. It was your favourite thing; sitting on his lap as he worked and watching plain paper turn into a work of art over the passage of time. You’d lamented wanting another tattoo occasionally, and finally asked directly if he wanted to try it out some time. He’d told you that he would do some research and come back to you.

Duke had been happy to get some books on the subject for the right price, and you’d seen him reading them in his spare time. He’d also been slightly amused at Karl’s order for body safe inks, but like the brilliant merchant he was, sure enough they were in the crate with your next supply drop. Karl had designed his own tattoo machine from what he’d seen in the books, making sure that it worked like a charm before starting to practice on his creations. After that, a handful of soldats could be seen roaming the factory halls with his first designs covering their arms and legs. Finally, he’d asked what you wanted to have on your skin forever. And you didn’t give it much time before answering.

You were aware that getting tattoos of a partner’s name was usually the kiss of death in a relationship, but the concept was flimsy around symbolism. You’d come to this backwards village not expecting to find love, but here you were. And you wanted to have that forever written onto your skin. So, your mind had been made up. You were sure.

The design had gone through a couple of changes until you were both satisfied with it, but you’d fallen in love with the one that was now stencilled on you. Heisenberg’s crest, horse head looking to the left and framed with an upturned horseshoe, with delicate buttercup flowers adorning the crest. You’d decided to have it on your upper thigh, near to the hip. “So it can be for our eyes only,” you had told Karl, making his eyes light up with happiness.

Karl gently rubbed your waist with a latex gloved hand, offering a small smile as he stretched his back before he started. “Alright, darlin’. Lemme know if we need a break, and we’ll stop. You ready?”

You nodded, and you bit the inside of your cheek as the familiar sting was dragged across your sting. Just because you liked tattoos didn’t mean that they were exactly a pleasant feeling. A couple of parts on the more sensitive areas made you suck in a breath, and Karl’s eyes quickly darted to your face as he paused to make sure you were okay. But once in the swing of things, you could see that he was pretty into the process. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the small bite of his lower lip as he focused on getting every part perfect. For someone who’d never done this on a live person, you were pretty impressed on how it was looking so far. The fact that you were safe in the knowledge that he’d made sure everything was satanised and as clean as humanly possible aided your relaxation about the whole thing.

With a final wipe down of the design, he sat up with a large grin on his face as he put the machine down on the table beside him. “We’re all finished,” he announced with a flourish, picking up a hand mirror and handing it to you so you could view his handiwork. “How’d you like it?”

Your smile matched his in it’s intensity as you stared at the newest addition to your body art. It was everything you wanted; clean lines, well shaded and coloured, and more importantly it would be a permanent reminder of Karl. “I love it,” you enthused, enraptured in looking at it from different angles. “Thank you.”

“Glad to be of service, Buttercup,” he chuckled, grabbing the small roll of cling film from the table. “We’ll get it wrapped up, and Duke promised to send over some cocoa butter with our delivery later today.”

You practically flew off the table as he finished wrapping up your thigh, pressing a loving kiss onto his lips as your arms looped around his neck. He made a hum of approval at your action, kissing you back with fervour as his arms coiled around your waist. “Is that my reward for a job well done?”

“I’ve got other things in mind for that,” you smirked, his brow arching at the implication.

In truth, there wasn’t really a way to make it up to him. He’d done something for you, something to make you happy, having to learn a whole new skill to do so. And now, you’d always have him nearby, whenever you brushed your hand against your leg in the future. And the thought made your heart fill until it threatened to spill over with adoration.

[petiterazu]

Your drawings are so good! Do you have any tips on how to do better? (Also i’ve never shaded before) no pressure to answer :3

Tips?:0 from me? Oh my :>

To be honest the best advice I can give is-

Draw everyday, even if you don’t want to, I used to think I’d never improve no matter what I did- but here I am. 1000+ drawings later.

Now fortunately I am a big fan of you and your work :> so I can give you some proper tips on that.

1. Always start with a sketch

Yes you’re gonna hate, no one really enjoys their first sketch but you gotta trust le process~ and hey now, referencing helps a butt ton! Don’t be afraid to use em.

2. Start refining your sketch

After a few draw overs youre soon gonna get what ya want, start cleaning up the important parts too. Like hands and smaller items- especially da face.

3. Get ya coloring/ lineart together

Now for me I start coloring after my final sketch but most people start line art first. Keep them lines clean and make sure everything you got is easy to make out✨

4. Shading

Shading will always be a difficult challenge, but it doesn’t have to be. You just gotta pick a spot where you want your light to start and go from there, never forget that shading references are all around you- remember that you can use anything from reference. Also when you’re shading using a different brush helps.

—————-

I hope this helps :> and if it does I’ll be keeping an eye on your posts -. ^-. ✨

[duckbeater]

Story Assignment / Did You Prevail?

Peter Handke’s memoir A Sorrow Beyond Dreams is notable for its brevity and also the brevity of its composition. In less than 90 pages he examines his mother’s suicide, sketches something of her backwoods youth in interwar Germany, sympathetically evokes her enervating middle years (child-rearing, poverty, spirit-killing monotony), then analyzes her life’s coda—a time of curiosity, social reinvention and zest. By elevating her consciousness, she apparently collapsed all that’d come before, made it ugly and non-negotiable. To quit the past required a whole bottle of sleeping pills.  

Handke’s analyses is forensic, delicate and rational. You believe he loves his mother not from sentimental asides or fantasies of saving, but by his devotion to the truth, which, given his mother’s unhappiness and pettiness and lack of education, has a nearly universal meaningless. What did her death mean? Who could it possibly affect?

Anyway, he finished the book in two months, and included the odd occasional all-caps abstraction. When I’m walking around at night I sometimes think, “NEAT, CLEAN and JOLLY,” or “WEAK-KNEED,” or “GREAT FALL,” or “MEANWHILE HAD GONE OUT OF EXISTENCE,” and know I’m occupied once more with my little sorrow beyond dreams.

—

“Man,” I texted Mackie, “I’ve been awake since 3AM. It’s 5 now. Jerked off 2x. No sleep.” I hit send before deciding my intentions. I don’t think we know what to say to each other, but we’re always saying things to each other, and it’s never, “Was thinking about you, how great it’d be to be turn over and just talk to you in the dark.” I don’t know if he’d actually ever say that to me—seems wishful. Mackie is not very nice and he lives very far away. 

—

Went to a party on Wednesday. I wore dark blues down to my briefs, and navy small shoes with no arches. I got off the train hobbling and talked myself up in the alleys on the way to the two-story condo where we’d celebrate night 4 of Hanukkah. I’d slept with the host, obviously, and one or two friends in attendance. I’m not really a part of this group, I’ve just—I guess I’ve penetrated it, as they say. 

I had rehearsed convos in my head. I had slammed a blue-bottled beer before getting on the train and felt woozy but competent, just a little in pain. Everyone there seemed leagues more jovial and put together and interesting and adult than me, I felt, immediately on opening the door. I had forced an earring in a closed hole and my left ear was berry red and throbbing—a part of why I felt so juvenile. Grown men don’t just press past the barrier of healed skin. It made a small gratifying popping sound as it cleared the other side and felt hot-hot, and it’s a sensation I’ll repeat (it’s a sensation writing repeats). 

For a while, to get out of the heat and press of my successful and attached gay cohort, I hung out with the only female in attendance, Bernice, a noted fag hag (I believe she condones this use), and stroked a paw of the small dog seeking refuge in a pillow-pile beside me on the over-plush couch. Because I felt lonely, I wanted to ask, “Bernice, why do you exclusively attend these kinds of events? Why do you exclusively attend events where you’re shunted to an oversized couch with a social incompetent? What’s the deal with you and gays?” Instead we talked about our jobs. This inadvertently dimensionalized Bernice for me. 

“I’ve done so much bullshit work for the last decade,” she snorted, “and in 2022 I got hired as a special projects consultant for an absolutely broken renewable energies firm.” She explained the firm’s stultifying snags on ESG semantics, its optical insecurities, how it quavered on progressive politics, waffling on bygone  talking points. “I was loaned out,” said Bernice. “Um, so my firm actually salaried me. I could say whatever I wanted in the vaunted halls of the executive suites and the buffet boxes of free sports tickets and the Connecticut mansion parties. And I called them cowards. I really busted their balls for weeks and weeks—on op-eds, white papers, social media posts, ‘the state security alignment’—I’m sorry, I mean the police—and also, who are those tadpoles in DC—”—“Lobbyists,” I breathed—“Lobbyists,” she breathed back, “I called them out on how based and cucked and knob-choked they all were on the teeny fucking penises of the DC lobbyists. I wanted them to feel so small and stupid and dry and bad, for what they were making, which was millions every day, millions on millions, while I—finally—afforded a Kia. I hate feeling poor. At our age? Don’t you?” “Yes. I hate it.” “Right. So I made them feel poor, a little bit.”

During this peroration I got trembly and blank, excited and critical. I let this leave me. I said, “Did you prevail?” and Bernice said, “The fuck no. But god damn! I made sixteen-kay in November. You ever make that much in a month?” “No, never, and I never,” I said. I told her how had I finally afforded a new car by taking a job at a bank. Bernice has also studied literature. (I don’t think she keeps a blog.) We cheersed saying, “Eat the rich,” [clink], “Eat the rich,” and that felt very correct. The dog licked my palm, perhaps mistaking our intent. “We’re not gonna eat you,” I said, and the dog chittered his teeth at me.

Later that night I made out with a guy name Andrew (such an indelible millennial name), and then never talked to him again though we’ve texted somewhat since.

Mackie asked what I was up to that night and I sent him a couple photo and video updates that were greeted by silence. The next AM he was sending obscure memes again. Out of jealousy, I told myself.

—

It’s odd—I didn’t really solve why Bernice exclusively hangs out with thirty-something gays who ignore her. (My last theory is that she enjoys recreational drugs: her gay friend group is really into those.) Past the obscure memes, I solicited Mackie for some explanation. He unimaginatively offered misogynistic trash, with the line, “Can’t pull but likes to watch.” Typing that up makes me feel very late and very closed-minded to the asexual community, although assuming Bernice is asexual feels as offensive as assuming she hangs out with queers for ketamine. Sometimes our friends, our networks, our densest and most particular milieus spring upon us by accident. And yet—she’s consulted for a living. She made $16K in November. She’s canny. Also clearly she hates straight rich white men. What gives?

I texted the host, thanking him for his hospitality; I texted Andrew, thanking him for his wonderful plump kisses; I texted other men who’d breeched my IG stronghold with accolades and complaints about my attention and comportment. A guy I’d “met” on Grindr and spoken to in the kitchen let me know I’d “rejected him” after he’d shared his album; that’d I stopped talking to him after seeing him naked. But—he was glad we’d met in real life, because he’d had the opportunity to confirm I did read books. He’d written: “When you talk, you use big words.” Embarrassed, I messaged him back saying, “I didn’t reject you. I’m just bad at Grindr. And yeah, I read books.” (Guys: the fact remains, I read books.)

I did reject him. His body repulsed me. He’d been overweight for years and undertaken marathon training, so all the skin on him was oozing and angry and stretched like taffy. Also I wasn’t that into his penis. Judging his fitness—his ripeness—his fuckability—based on something as arbitrary as cock-hardness and a sculpted torso—is the remit of the sexually unenlightened. I know! Not wanting to bang Stu because his body gave me the squick (and his body giving me the squick because of socially inherited standards of gay male beauty) drove me slightly batshit. I’d gone to Hanukkah Night 4 hoping for no part of that—hoping, indeed, for enlightenment. And still, I was confronted in the corner of the kitchen with a man who I had no intention of sleeping with, with him later asking me, “Why?” Also, I think that’s a party foul. If I’d been hideous on Grindr that’d be one thing, but I’d only been silent. 

(I’d gone to Hanukkah Night 4, actually, fully with the intention of some very beautiful, intelligent man courting me, seducing me, sweetly asking if he might take me home. Mackie reminded me: “You went to a gay party hoping to get laid.” When I revisit our texts, I see that on Wednesday night, I did jokingly say, “Wearing blue briefs tonight in case I get laid.”)

—

Prevail in the sense of what. 

I keep telling myself, if you just write in the style (or concern) of Grace Paley, you’ll manage your output better. You’ll actually write, rather than not write, which—bizarre to point out—a lot of egregiously more talented writers simply don’t do. They either don’t read Grace Paley or they don’t take her example seriously. Can’t drop the kids off at the sitter? Disappointing a union rep? Grocery store reverie? Class action lawsuit? Neighborhood defense? Teaching Zoomers dialogue? Furious about parking? Guys being complete pricks? What’s for breakfast? (“Our shrinking family requires more coffee, more eggs, more cheese, less butter, less meat, less orange juice, more grapefruit.”) Seasons shift their responsibilities [planting, watering, raking, shoveling] and finally the apartment, the car, the stoop, and [even] the park demand a graceless apology and accounting for. How do you come by these treasures? 

Paley gives you freedom to remark on the banal frustrations and the relentless petty drama of existing while renting. So too of dating while maybe dating others (a grace for the gays), and of wanting to attend an alderman’s fundraiser but maybe sliding one or more of your dates there, too—a Jane Jacobs by way of Nora Ephron. Maybe I only read her young writing. Perhaps I only read her young concerns. (No: She was 63 when she published the breakfast items above.) But everything feels fresh and hilarious and condoned. “You will sorely fuck this up, surely, but the lesson of living in the city will stick.” (I wrote that last quote, not Grace Paley.)

—

Later, Mackie texted, “Stop being annoying and text me back.”

I sent him maybe the 81st photo of me in my underwear, haggard, glasses, brushing my teeth, and the caption, “All clear.”

[ladydimitrescuspet]

Picture Perfect

ao3 link! donna beneviento x reader!  I tried to make reader as gender neutral as possible so I hope I succeed! tell me what you think and sorry for any grammatical errors! also inspired by this ask that @milfcoven got but I decided to make the painter reader instead of alcina, hope that’s okay, I just thought this was really cute!

***

You'd only been in the village for six months, but you were friends with most of the villagers. Surprisingly, you hadn't been sent to Castle Dimitrescu upon your arrival. The Lady of the Castle had tried to get you to accompany her back to her home, but you declined the offer and she allowed it. You were shocked, to say the least, that the Lady had let you go back to your home unharmed, but she vowed that you'd be under her protection and that nothing would happen to you as long as you stayed here in the village.

Now, here you were watching another woman who was the Head of House Beneviento. She didn't come into the village often and when she did, she never spoke herself, she used her doll, you didn't know her name. You never questioned it because why would you? So when the woman walked up to you, you were surprised by the visit.

"Oh, good afternoon, Lady Beneviento." You greeted, your hand over your face so you could block out the sunlight a bit.

She nodded her head before the doll spoke. "What's your name?" She asked.

"Um, it's Y/N, My Lady. What's yours?" You replied.

The doll pointed to the Lady in black. "That's Donna, and I'm Angie." Angie said.

"Oh, those are beautiful names. If I'm right, Donna means world ruler and Angie means angel, messenger of God." You said. "Both meanings are very fitting."

Angie walked closer to you. "How so?" Angie asked.

"Well, Gods and Goddesses can be viewed as world rulers and if you're Lady Beneviento's messenger, so to speak, then we must be in the presence of a Goddess, little angel." You responded with a small smile to the doll. You glanced up at Lady Beneviento before looking back at Angie. "But, um, is there anything I can do for the two of you?" You asked.

Angie made the motion of wanting to be picked up, you looked up at Lady Beneviento for approval before doing so. "Mistress Donna would like to know if you would paint us." Angie said. "She said she'd pay you for it."

"Oh, I, well, I would love to paint the both of you." You replied. "I could, well, I guess I could come by House Beneviento whenever it's good for you two."

Angie shook her head. "Mistress Donna says it wouldn't be safe for you to come to the House." Angie said.

You furrowed your brows a bit. "Well, I could do it at my house instead. I'd have to clean it, but we can definitely get it done there if that's okay." Angie nodded her head. "Good. I guess just let me know what day would be a good day to get the painting done."

Angie hopped off your lap and went to be held by Lady Beneviento. She whispered something into Lady Beneviento's ear before looking back at you. "Mistress Donna says Wednesday would be a most pleasant day for the painting."

You smiled up at them. "Wednesday, it is then. I'll be expecting you." You replied. Angie said bye to you from her and Mistress Donna before they walked away from you. You quickly made your way back to your home, avoiding eye contact and conversation with anybody who witnessed your encounter with Lady Beneviento. You let out a small sigh before you began cleaning.

Wednesday came before you knew it, but at least you had most of your place cleaned and organised for your guests. As you finished setting up where you would do the painting there was a faint knock on the door. You let out a shaky breath before opening the door.

"Lady Beneviento, Angie, hi." You greeted as you let them into your home.

"Hi, Y/N. Mistress Donna and I are very excited about the painting today. I was so excited about it last night that I couldn't even sleep!" Angie exclaimed as Lady Beneviento carried her.

You flushed at her excitement. "Well, I'm glad you were excited, but I do hope you got some sleep. You know sleep is very important." You replied. "So this is where I'm going to do the painting. I'll start by sketching the two of you first and then I'll paint it. It'll take a few hours at least, but I should have the two of you home before dark." You explained.

"Y/N?" Angie called out.

You turned around. "Yes?"

"Mistress Donna would like to know if it's okay if she takes off her veil for the painting." Angie said. You nodded your head. "You won't be scared of her scar, will you?" Angie asked.

"Oh, precious angel, no. Lady Beneviento is still a Goddess, with or without her scar." You said with a smile. Angie hugged your leg as Lady Beneviento slowly undid her veil. You let out a small gasp. "See? Your Lady's a Goddess, Angie." You said to the doll and you could see a small blush colour Lady Beneviento's cheeks.

"You- you really think?" Lady Beneviento asked softly. It was the first time you had ever heard her speak, her voice sounded like honey. You nodded your head. "Thank you, um, Y/N."

"You're welcome, Lady Beneviento." You replied.

"Donna." You raised your eyebrow slightly. "In your lovely home, Donna will do just fine." She said with a soft smile.

You nodded you head slightly. "Alright then, Donna." You said. "How about we get started?" You suggested. Donna bit her lip before hesitantly moving over to the chair you set out for her. "Is something wrong? We don't have to do the painting if you don't want to."

Donna shook her head. "N-no, I want to. I just, can you, never mind." She waved the thought off.

You moved closer to her, taking her hand in yours. "Hey, listen, I'll do whatever you want me to do." You said.

"Mistress Donna is a bit self-conscious about her scar, Y/N." You looked at Angie. "Mistress Donna was wondering if you'd paint her an eye instead of painting her scar."

You nodded your head before looking back at Donna. "Is that what you would like, Donna?" You asked. She nodded her head. "I can do that. If that's what you want then I can do that." You replied.

"Mistress Donna says thank you." Angie said motioning for you to pick her up.

You have a small smile. You placed Angie on Donna's lap before asking a question. "Are you two... connected?"

"In a way, yes." Donna replied.

You hummed. You sketched her and Angie mostly in silence, occasionally asking her to turn a certain way. It took you a few hours to sketch them out like you had that it would, but you wouldn't have enough time to get it fully done to give it to her before dark.

"I didn't realise how late it was getting." You said when you looked at the clock. "I apologise for keeping you in town for so long." You stood up from your seat and looked at Angie. "You should probably get this little angel to bed soon, My Lady."

Donna frowned a bit. "Donna, please. I'd like for you to call me Donna." She replied. You simply nodded your head at her request. "I suppose we should get going. Could you hold her while I do this?" She asked, gesturing towards the black veil on your couch.

"Of course." You said as you took the doll from her lap and held her.

"Y/N, can I tell you something?" Angie asked. You smiled at her and leaned your ear down to her. You let out a soft gasp at what she told you. "Is that so? I'll be sure to make it extra special then, just for Donna... and you too, angel." You replied to the doll softly.

It wasn't long before you waving goodbye to the two of them as they headed back to their home. You had agreed on Sunday for Donna and Angie to come back for the painting, and they did. You'd just woken up when you heard the knock on your door. Smiling to yourself you made your way over to let them in.

"Donna, Angie, you're here early!" Nonetheless, you allowed them into your home. "I need a shower, but make yourselves comfortable. I made some tea if you'd like to have some, Donna, cups are in the cabinet on the right." You called over your shoulder as you made your way into the bathroom. When you came out, you found Angie asleep on your couch with Donna's veil over her while Donna was sat in a chair sipping on a cup of tea. "Angie must be really tired if she's sleeping right now." You said, looking at the sleeping doll fondly, a small smile on your face.

Donna let out a small laugh. "She, um, didn't get much sleep last night. And when Angie is restless then so am I." Donna replied. Looking her over, you did notice that she looked a bit tired. "It's no bother to me, I enjoy keeping her company." She quickly added upon seeing the concerned look on your face.

"I don't doubt that one bit." You said. "How have you been?" You asked.

"Same old, same old. Mother Miranda called a meeting for the Lords and warned us of some outsider coming to the village soon, to make sure we're prepared for his arrival." Donna explained. "I have no doubt that Alcina or Heisenberg will get their hands on him before me and Moreau get a chance at him and I wouldn't mind it one bit, to be honest."

"Speaking of Lady Dimitrescu, she tried to pursue me once, but I turned her down. Quite frightening that I lived through it." You said as you sighed into your cup of tea. Donna arched her eyebrow. "She said something about how I reminded her of someone she once knew a long time ago. It was very flattering, I guess, but I had no idea what she was going on about." You explained.

Donna looked at her cup, tapping her fingers on it. "A past lover, I assume." She said softly. You couldn't help the laugh you let out in disbelief. "I'm serious. Alcina has had some lovers come back to her, reincarnated and all that, it never slips past her when a past lover returns to the village." Donna said. "But never have I heard of one passing her up."

You shrugged a bit. "She's a beautiful woman, of course, but nothing compared to you, Donna." You replied and you could see her blush at the compliment as she waved it off. You put your cup down to take her hand in yours as you had done the last time she was here. "I, um, I mean it. You're a Goddess, Donna, you're picture perfect." You said as you leaned closer to her, staring into her eyes, your lips only a few inches from her.

Donna let out a shaky breath. "Speaking of picture perfect, the portrait?" She said before clearing her throat, breaking you out of the trance the two of you seemed to be in.

You jumped up, scratching the back of your head. "Yes, the portrait." You smiled as you went over to get it. You spoke to her as you walked back over to where she was sitting. "A little angel, not naming any names, told me that today was a very special day so I tried to make it extra special for you, Donna." You took the sheet you had over the painting off and waited for her reaction.

You stared at the lady in black sitting in one of your chairs with curious eyes as she stared at the portrait, observing it before she looked up at you with tears in her eyes. Donna stood up from her chair and pulled you into a hug. "It's perfect. So, so perfect. Thank you." Donna said into your ear softly sending a small shiver down your spine as she pulled away. You expected her to sit back down, but instead she studied your face before she leaned in to kiss you. It took you a second to register what was happening before you reciprocated the kiss, pushing your lips into hers a bit before she pulled away. "Was that, did I overstep?" She asked.

You shook your head. "No. Not at all." You said before you kissed her again, a small smile on your face. You reluctantly pulled away. "I'm glad you liked the portrait. Happy Birthday, Donna."

Donna gave you a small smile in return as she returned to her seat, stealing a glance over at the still sleeping doll. "Angie's not going to be pleased that I saw it without her. Or about the fact that we..." Her voice trailed off as she touched her lips before looking up at you. "Put the sheet back on it?" She asked.

"Of course. Wouldn't want the little angel to miss out on such a special moment, would we?" Donna let out a laugh as she shook her head at your question. In all honesty, you hadn't expected to fall for Donna Beneviento, but you were glad you turned down Lady Dimitrescu if it meant you got to make this Goddess of a woman smile and laugh any chance you could.