#i would of drew all of that but this is supposed to be just a quick drawing so yea

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY

Part 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: You confront your husband, the emperor of Rome, of his sickness.

You leaned back in your chair. The bracelets on your arm clanging loudly as you moved, showing off your riches with just such noise.

Your husband was right in front of you, yet his mind miles away. It was always away when the people in the coliseum roared as they saw a persons eye get gutted out of his head. He would howl with them as well.

You did not care so much for this marriage was not out of love but Marcus. Dare not ever call him that, Caracalla has been different these past moons.

So there you were, starring intensely at your husband back trying to figure him out.

…

“More food, my lady?” A servant came up with a tray of grapes, all laid out neatly with additional touches of green that was obviously there for decoration purposes.

You didn’t say anything and put up your hand and shooed him away, you were occupied anyways as Caracalla finally sat back down next to you.

He smacked his chair and gave a chuckle, “did you see that?” “I did.” You said plainly, looking straight ahead. He frowned, “you don’t seem excited by that?” You turned your head to him finally, looking into his eyes. You tried to seem something there but there wasn’t.

“No, I have just seen better battles.”

He scooted back more into his chair, trying to get comfortable in his seat. “You’re right.” He agreed with you, “It has only just begun though, don’t fret my dear.”

Your eyes drew back to the sandy arena floor, dust flying up as people tried to dodge other attacks. The clink of metal on metal and the blood dowsing in the sun, it gave you no entertainment as it did to him. It happened so often, how are they not bored of it?

Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against the armrest, the cold clink of your bracelets and rings brought you back.

“You seem bored.” Caracalla frowned at you. You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between each other. Shifted in your seat, eyeing him once more, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes gleamed with a hunger you never quite understood.

“I suppose I am.” Playing with your rings as you let out a sigh. “Caracalla's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gave a short laugh. "You always were different. I suppose as well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't care for the blood, do you?"

Your head turned as well to meet him again. You two were very close now and his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin.

The crowd went up again and his brother, Geta started to shout ferociously, almost as if he was fighting them down there as well. The sound broke you two apart.

His smile didn’t falter as he straightened in his chair, but there was something in his gaze—something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "You don't like the blood," he repeated, quieter now, as if testing something. Noticing him slowly disappearing more and more into his mind.

"You know, it's not the blood," you replied, your voice low and deliberate, "It's what comes after it."

He definitely heard you but decided not to pay attention to you anymore and decided to lean against the railing watching the show below unfold.

———

You did not see your husband, Caracalla until later that night, long after the sun had set and the games were done for the day. The moon shining bright and cooling everyone of the hot day in Rome.

Back in your chamber with the windows open. The wind blowing through your silk gown right in the moonlight’s direction. Looking out into the beautiful streets and hearing bells ring and children laughing. It was the only peaceful part of the day you would get.

Nor did you care when you heard footsteps enter into the room. "Are you still angry?" Caracalla voice was low, tinged with amusement, though you could tell he was testing the waters.

Your head tilted a bit and your eyes lingered on the marble floor. “I never was.” Keeping your voice quiet and steady. For a moment, he said nothing, only watching you. His usual presence was like a shadow, but tonight it felt like he wasn’t even there.

"You always do this," Caracalla’s voice broke the stillness, soft but tinged with something darker. He had moved closer now, though still keeping a careful distance, as if measuring the space between you both. "You retreat into silence like a stranger in your own home. You’ve always been so... aloof. Cold, even."

You wanted to scoff at him. To throw the vase on the table at him. You knew better than this though, you’ve played this game your whole life. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. "I don’t retreat, Caracalla," you replied, your voice calm, though it held a trace of something sharper beneath it. “Something seems off with you these days, I fear.” You held your hands close to your chest for some comfort.

He breath became fast and he narrowed his eyebrows for a second. “Is this why you can’t look at me?” He raised his voice higher yet you did not flinch one bit.

“No.” You said.

He stepped closer to you to talk quietly yet anger was still in his body, it has always been there, a whisper in the night air. "Then what is it? What do you see when you look at me?"

You shifted slightly, the silk of your gown rippling with the motion, "I see a man who has everything, yet still wants more," you said softly, the words as sharp as the cold marble beneath your feet.

Caracalla paused, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the silence between you both growing heavy. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out, the fury in him barely contained. Yet, he remained still, his lips pressed tight together as he absorbed your words.

"You always were good with words," he muttered, you stood unmoving, your back to the open window, the cool night air sweeping through the room as the distant sounds of Rome's nightlife echoed faintly in the background. The weight of his gaze was palpable, as though it was trying to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built between you and him.

"What do you want, Caracalla?" You said those words very loudly. You weren’t afraid speaking out against him. “You are not yourself these days, you are restless in your sleep and crave blood more than ever…”

He looked down at the ground and almost began to shout. “It is my brother! He blames me for everything I’ve ever done!” His voice pleased and aching. You’ve seen him like this before, but never this serious. Yet, you don’t believe he’s telling the full truth, or at least he knows the full truth.

You drop your hands to your side and step close to him, your silhouette leaving the silver moonlight that touched you. You brush your hand into his hair and look at him, holding his head. Your rings felt cold against his skin but he did not mind it.

“You are the emperor.” You spoke softly, trying to calm him down. He had always been out there but you’ve always yet had a soft heart and it aches for him right now.

His eyes were stinging from holding back tears yet he did not shed any. He did not speak for he did not seem weak but he has a sickness of the mind and you knew it, Geta knew it, the senate knew it and damn that monkey probably knew it as well. You just kept denying it and he does not see it.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” He whispered and turned his head to break away from your hands. Leaving the cold air to touch them again. Maybe you should’ve kept that window closed.

[willowed-wisp]

it was just supposed to be drinks… [ soap | ghost ]

Johnny MacTavish x you, Simon Riley x you

It’s all fun and games hosting a party, but when two of 141 don’t show up and it’s just you, your husband Johnny and Simon Riley… things don’t go as planned.

You didn’t know how he got you to say yes. Could have been the fact his tongue was in between your legs as he asked, or you had blunt force trauma to the head after his long he’d been crashing you against the headboard.

But nevertheless you had agreed to host a drinks and board games night with his squad members (the most he was allowed to tell you). You had social anxiety and are very selfish conscious, why it was your worst nightmare but if he made your broad, rash and rough Scotsman happy- you had an obligation. And you were in the comfort of your own home.

You picked out something pretty to wear- nothing too flashy.

Much to your husband’s disappointment, two members hadn’t been able to make it… so it was just you, Johnny and this guy in a balaclava and a sexy voice.

You and Ghost hit it off immediately, roasting Johnny and speaking about rock music as a conversation topic as you were stuck on how foreboding he looked. Then again, something about him made your body feel electric. Maybe it was the tattoos or the military rank.

The night dragged on, you and your vodka turning into you and your wine. It was like floating on a millpond, giggling- causing your significant other to follow suit. Ending up in his lap, beside Simon. Pecking Johnny on the lips before turning to those dark eyes- a desire raged… “Johnny do I get my free pass now?” He clocked onto what you were thinking- your tongue licking against your bottom lip- teeth scraping at it trying to hide the moan from grinding against his blue jeans. Thinking about those brown eyes staring you down.

Your man nodded, lust dripped from that lopsided grin. “Y’ alright with that, Lt. ?” A finger ran across Simon’s broad chest; his physique aching all over as your leg crossed his lap- before you settled into it.

He sucked in a laboured huff, “I s’ppose so…” There you were, able to feel a growing hardness in Simon’s jeans. Him relishing in the plumpness of your thighs. The warmth of your core- feeling everything because of the lack of a gusset. “Naughty one you’ve got ‘ere, Johnny…” Revealing your ass, garter straps anchoring your stockings over the flesh of your thighs. Finger touching along your folds, “Crotchless…” His fabric gloves left static along your skin, pinging the straps.

A set of tanned hands joining in the grabbing, “Sweetheart, are you okay with all this?” His wide eyes, looking worried about you. When you were the one who crawled into Simon Riley’s lap. The pink of your lips swollen- Johnny giving your lip a graze with his front teeth. All the while Simon ground against your centre, hands all over your body.

Simon was more gentle than you thought he would be, your skin tingled and you left a wet patch on his lap. Your husband behind you- caressing your covered breasts… leaving trails of purple down your neck. Everything about these men was hard, chiselled and rugged. You couldn’t get enough.

Johnny raised the dress above your head, Simon assisting. About to ravage your breasts, “Nuh-uh, the mask comes off, Simon…” Johnny winced at your words, that was his superior.

But all Simon did was chuckle, “Wanna take it off yourself, love?” It was difficult, but you managed. A scar on his lip, passed his nose and uncovering brown hair. A single finger- his index - drew your chin closer towards him before claiming your lips. He didn’t even realise you had unbuckled his belt until your hand palmed his cock under his boxers. Simon was big- not thicker than Johnny but… fuck, you needed it inside of you and you hadn’t even seen it yet.

Pressure on your stomach as robust arms thrust you backwards against that all too familiar chest, a hand at the base of your back- arching you forward, “I’ve got y’ first, sweetheart…” No need to work your underwear down, you heard his zipper. Teasing you with the tip, running it up and down your heat. “You should see how wet she is, Lt.” Your husband mused to the man rubbing the tented fabric between his legs.

“I know, my jeans are soaked…” Simon was like shadows while Johnny was like the Sun… even in the way sex looked on them. Simon’s eyes were hooded and frenzied… like the shivers sprinting down your body.

You should have gotten used to the way he splits you open, but your pussy could never seem to adjust to such a brute inside of it. “Oh my, god…” Eyes rolling back, you were coming there and then. Johnny was lucky he didn’t lose his cool at that.

You saw how Simon’s cock bounced against his clothes stomach, looking you dead in the eyes as he stood up. “Got somethin’ for you to such on, lovie…” But that’s when his pace picked up behind you… fingers a vice at your hips. Flesh on flesh… how red were your thighs? You didn’t care, numb all over- clawing at something. Johnny’s name moaned like a fucking prayer, muffled screams. Mouth vibrating around Simon’s length. “You feel like Heaven. Keep her moaning’, Sergeant,” the military talk making you even wetter and mouth gaped. Mumbling in tongue neither could translate but Simon counted his blessings… it had been so long since he had touched a woman let alone had his cock down their throat.

You tasted the saltiness and felt him twitch, his hands in your hair. Pulling you all the way on it. Releasing with a pop. Though when you looked down, he was still hard as rock. Without a second thought, you swallowed being guided onto his lips before thoughts bubbled. Teeth clashed, Johnny’s hips waved sporadically. “You’re up, Lt.”

“Johnny you didn’t finish- ,”

“We’re only finishin’ the other end,” if you’d known any better they had planned this out before hand… then it hit you.

Unable to sway away from the giants stood beside you, “You both planned this out, didn’t you?” Simon’s gloves came off as you spoke, intent swept his demeanour.

“Lovie…” pulling you against him, Johnny at your front, “You’ve got no idea…”

————

masterlist

[rootedinrevisions]

Five More Minutes

SUMMARY: You and Jake are headed to The Hard Deck to meet the daggers, but a few things risk making you late.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I apologize that it's taken me a month to get it written. I hope it's worth the wait! I'm working to get requests done as I have time and the inspiration is flowing! Hope you enjoy! xx

WARNINGS: None, smut is implied but none actually happens.

WORD COUNT: 767

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

Jake sprawled on the edge of the bed, bouncing his knee impatiently as he watched you at the vanity. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Babe, come on,” he drawled, leaning back on his palms. “We’re gonna be late! We were supposed to be there by nine!”

“Five more minutes,” you called over your shoulder, carefully applying the last bit of mascara. Your voice was calm, but Jake could hear the teasing lilt in it, and he knew you weren’t in any rush.

“Five more minutes?” he repeated, raising a brow and letting out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, you said that twenty minutes ago. You realize they’re all gonna roast me for this, right? Phoenix is gonna have a field day.”

“Phoenix already roasts you,” you shot back, swapping the mascara for your lipstick. “I’m just giving her more material to work with.”

Jake groaned, flopping back onto the bed in defeat. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you,” he muttered, though his tone was light and full of affection.

“And yet, here you are two months later, and still with me” you replied, smirking as you caught his reflection in the mirror.

He propped himself up on his elbows, his green eyes narrowing as he watched you smooth a hand over your outfit. 

“Here I am,” he agreed, his smirk matching yours. “Sittin’ here, waitin’.”

“You wouldn’t be waiting if you hadn’t joined me in the shower,” you shot back, not even looking at him as you adjusted an earring in the mirror. Your knowing look in the reflection caught his eye, and Jake’s smirk widened into something that made your stomach flip. 

He sat up straighter, feigning innocence. “Now, I don’t recall you complainin’ about that,” he drawled, standing and taking slow, deliberate steps toward you.

You met him halfway, tilting your chin up as he closed the distance. “I wasn’t,” you admitted, your voice softening just a little. “But we both know that’s why we’re running late.”

“Not sure what you’re talkin’ about,” he murmured, feigning innocence as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips found the spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure as he trailed soft kisses along your neck. “Jake,” you warned, though your tone lacked conviction. “We’re already late.”

Jake pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk now bordering on devilish. “Five minutes,” he said, mimicking your earlier words as he leaned down again. “Hell, I only need two.”

You raised a brow, fighting the urge to smile. “Is that so? Pretty sure I remember you needing a lot more than two in the shower.”

“Let’s give ‘em a real reason to wonder why we’re late.” His mischievous grin returned, and he started tugging you toward the bed.

You raised a brow, laughing as you dug your heels into the floor to stop him. 

“What happened to you trying to rush me five minutes ago, huh?” you teased, your voice light and playful. “Weren’t you the one whining about how we’re gonna be late?”

Jake stopped, turning back to you with that signature cocky smirk you both loved and hated. “I realized I had my priorities all wrong,” he said, his tone smooth as honey. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. “A little late never hurt anybody. But missing the chance to keep you in my arms a little longer? Now that would be a crime.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip at his words despite yourself. “Wow, you’re really laying it on thick tonight,” you said, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “But we’re still not skipping out just because you’ve got no self-control.”

Jake leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, his grin never wavering. “No self-control when it comes to you, sweetheart. Guilty as charged.”

“Okay, Casanova,” you said, gently patting his chest and stepping back. “Let’s get going before your squad decides to start placing bets on whether or not we’re ever showing up.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a chuckle. “Just know, sweetheart, that the second we get home, you’re mine.”

“And you’ll still only need a few minutes,” you quipped, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Keep talkin’ like that, darlin’,” Jake called after you, grabbing his jacket with a chuckle, “and we’ll see who’s beggin’ for more time later.”

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

ᯓ⟢

How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you. 

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it. 

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks. 

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless. 

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations. 

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete. 

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head. 

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point. 

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it. 

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

taglist: @faephoria @maybankslover @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx @enchantedstarfish @starsmoonn @zulema222 @10ava01 @ietss @rafegf-real @leather-n-velvet t @avengersgirllorianna @chalahyung01 @thaissette @emberaurora @isabellaxlilah @matchieee @purplerose291 @wtfdudesblog @mattyskies @onlyrealjoy @sabrina6272827 @probablyreadingsmutlol @loupiotesworld @tqd4455 @persefone200 @dreamygirli3 @tobucina @h1ghw4y-blog @k-k0129 @harrys-housewife @pillowprincess4him

hoping all of these tags worked, some of them weren't popping up when i typed them! i've retyped them all by hand like 3 times, but each time i save it, it comes up as half of the list not actually tagged, so pls let me know if it tagged you!

[deaths-accountant]

Not an essay, but in Year 9, Religious Studies did a half-term on the Holocaust, which I was excited for, as I liked history and hated RS. But it turned out they didn't really teach us anything. So it transpired that we were assigned to make a piece of art based on what we learned about the Holocaust.

Which was kind of an insane thing to ask 13–14-year-olds, who had largely been treating these lessons as much of a joke as every other RS lesson. I procrastinated on this because... err... what, and because I had other things to do. So I ended up, the day before, still having no idea how to do this respectfully and drawing a stick figure outline with a yellow star and blood on it, surrounded by barbed wire.

The outline turned out terribly distorted, which, in the writing we were supposed to submit with it, I said was due to starvation. The yellow star had a line down the middle from when I drew it wrong, which I turned into it being cracked down the middle. I said that this represented the Nazis attempting to divide the Jewish people but them staying together—I knew this was bullshit. I had heard the stories of people in concentration camps betraying each other for any chance to cling to survival, but it was exactly the kind of platitude we had been taught in RS for the past few weeks, so I figured it would go down well.

I handed this in apprehensive but expecting the teacher wouldn't have the nerve to call me out on it. I was prepared to be told that I hadn't done the homework properly, but I wasn't prepared to be told it was one of the best in the class and asked to speak about it in front of the class. The marking was meant to be for the writing, not the art itself, you see.

This was a bit shocking at the time, and I definitely hated having to get up at the front of the class and say the same bullshit description in front of everyone. But in hindsight, I think it shows a real failure of Holocaust education.

We weren't being taught any history, and we weren't expected to say things that were true—we were expected to recite positive platitudes about Holocaust victims. And the course was filled with all the same busywork that Year 9 education on any other topic is, not conveying any sense of seriousness. Not that a sense of seriousness would have saved it when you're trying to do Holocaust education without actually teaching people about history.

Fundamentally, it was playing off the stereotyped idea of the Holocaust—that the Nazis were a unique evil who came out of nowhere, that there was no resistance and no heterogeneity, who had no motivation, and that everyone they victimized was a perfect, angelic victim who never tried to save themselves.

It was an education by a probably tired teacher, aiming only to get students to say "Jews are good," rather than to teach them what happened during the Holocaust. As if making people say that is going to stop anyone from becoming antisemites.

It was a sanitized view of the Holocaust, which reinforced the idea that there are no lessons that can be learned for our society. It was a course that resulted from someone being told they have to teach about the Holocaust without knowing how to do that. It was a course that didn't itself know how to treat the Holocaust respectfully because it wanted to treat the Holocaust as a magic wand to wave to get children to say that they don't hate anyone—and because our education system isn't designed to bother teaching children anything until they reach GCSE age.

Someone making a piece of art like that, not for a homework task, wouldn't just be bad art—it would be outright offensive. But the teacher wouldn't say that because she didn't have the time, or the understanding, or the energy to care. And if she did, she would basically have had to reprimand most of the class for actually doing the task that she set.

I thought I'd pulled off a great heist at the time, but realistically, the teacher just had no incentive not to buy my bullshit.

I guess the lesson here is that just saying you'll do Holocaust education isn't enough, and it needs to actually be resourced. In an endogenously marketised school system, where resources are only available for examined courses, it will default to reinforcing preconceptions, because that's what's cheapest.

Have you ever basically bullshitted an essay and gotten a great grade?

[sugurusfavemonkey]

I have something silly. Nanami x demon!reader where Yuji, Nobara and Megumi summoning a demon arguing about it's validity when reader appears in the middle of the room when the ritual is finished. Reader just poofed out of Nanami's arms while reading before bed lol

Yessss! perfect crack + fluff prompt! I'm sorry for the delay and I really hope you enjoy it, lovely anon <3

warnings: not much with the exception of one suggestive line, still... MDNI; Canon divergence (Nanami is the trio's teacher); not proofreaded because I was lazy and just wanted to post something. wc: 2.2k a/n: this was supposed to be a short drabble, but I went a little bit overboard with it? 😬 ALSO, Here's a Nanami fanart to accompany the fic, because that's exactly what I imagine he looks like in bed, waiting for his wife.

"You're doing it wrong!"

"No, I'm not! I read this page over a hundred times! We did everything it says in here!"

"So you'll read a book on demon summoning multiple times, but five pages on the subject of our group project is too much for you?" Megumi interjected from his spot splayed on a couch that had seen batter days while his friends argued about the merit of an old book they had stumbled upon when they had gone scouring through a flea market earlier that day.

He was completely dismissed as both Yuji and Nobara seemed to be too engrossed into their own heated discussion.

"No, you're not! The circle you drew is crooked and I'm pretty sure you're pronouncing the Latin wrong." She pointed to the weird shaped drawing made on the ground where a rug had been haphazardly pushed to the side of the room.

"Weren't you the one who drew the symbol?" Megumi remarked again, hiding his amusement at their antics behind a well crafted poker face.

"Yeah! You even insisted on using the orange crayon to do it!" Yuji indicated the same poorly drawn symbol, "and why don't you do the incantation then?!" he challenged, chin pointing upwards and arms crossing in front of his chest.

Megumi scoffed at Itadori's evident selective hearing, but chose not to interfere any further. He'd rather let the two idiots sort that out by themselves.

"You know what? I will! Gimme the damn book!" Nobara almost ripped the tome from the pink-haired boy, her expression one of resoluteness.

"Hey! A 'please' would have been nice, Kugisaki."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Nobara dismissed Yuji with a wave of her hand, focus already turned to the yellowed pages of the leather bound book in her hands.

She cleared her throat theatrically before launching into a passionate monologue in also atrociously pronounced Latin, as instructed per said book.

The closure of her speech was followed by a hefty silence, the three of them holding their breaths in anticipation, even Megumi leaned forward in his seat.

...

"Huh. Guess this is just fake then." Nobara was the first to speak as her shoulders fell, the tension releasing from her previously tense muscles.

"I was so sure it was gonna work." Yuji's voice was small with defeat, a small pout forming on his lips, "Maybe demons aren't real?"

Megumi stood up and sighed, a bored look on his face. "I could have said that from the beginning."

"I always knew this wouldn't work." Nobara said matter-of-factly, throwing her short hair over her shoulder and swiftly closing the book.

"That wasn't what you said earlier." Megumi pointed out.

"You know what, Fushiguro?"

"I'm kinda hungry now." Yuji interrupted with a frown before Nobara could do anything harsh, which wasn't a far fetched possibility considering her aggravated expression and perch for violence.

"Oh! We should try that new soba place by the plaza! I heard they open late!" The seemed to work as she immediately perked up, beaming at Yuji.

"We could catch the late night showing of Human Earthworm 4 after that!" His reply was just as excited.

"Haven't you already seen that movie three times?"

"It's a good movie!"

"Right. Because it isn't just like all the previous ones."

"Hey! It's completely different! It shows a fresh view on the inner turmoil of the human experience from the perspective of-

"Guys!" Megumi interrupted their bickering, but he wasn't looking at either of them. Instead, he glared at the person standing right in the middle of the circle they had drawn.

"Hi." You waved timidly, unsure of how to get out of the circle uncomfortable situation you were put in.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

You stopped by the threshold to your room upon the scene displayed in front of you.

Nanami Kento laying in bed with his back against the bedframe looking absolutely breath taking in his matching pajama set with his hair down, face unusually soft and eyes focused on the book on his hands.

He didn't even look up, merely patting the empty side of the bed, beckoning you into joining him. You grinned contently before setting into motion. Who were you to deny this beautiful man of anything?

You climbed onto the bed on your knees, lifting his arm closest to you so you could lay on his chest. He chuckled at your silly endearing demeanor, glancing at you briefly and placing a soft peck to the top of your head once you were properly settled, arms thrown over his middle, one leg over his and ear poised right over his left pec, his heartbeat a comforting sound.

"How did I ever get so luck?" You mused quietly, fingernails drawing random shapes against his covered stomach.

Kento hummed soothingly a soft smile upon his lips, "if anything I'm the lucky one, love."

Nuh-uh. I hit the jackpot with you, Ken. You're not only the sweetest man on this earth, but you're also so, so pretty!"

"Oh, I'm pretty?"

"The prettiest! And it doesn't hurt that you're willing to bend me over the table and absolutely ravish me when I visit you in your office at work every once in a while."

Nanami nearly chocked at your bluntness before he started laughing, the sound one not many had ever had the pleasure of listening to. Possibly your favorite sound.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He acquiesced as soon as his laughter died down.

"Don't mind if I take you up to that."

"You're a menace."

"I-"

And then you were gone: *poof*

One second laying snugly against the chest of your husband and then, the next standing inside a demon summoning circle in a poorly illuminated room along with three of Kento's students.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

"Wha- what are you doing here?" Yuji questioned, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I was just... umm... oh! Kento asked me to check what you guys were up to."

"We weren't up to anything!" Nobara called, nervous over the thought of their strict sensei discovering they had been messing around with the occult.

"We were just, umm, studying?" Yuji threw in, also alarmed. He tried to subtly move closer, one feet sliding by the ground to reach the crayon dust so he could attempt and erase it without your notice.

Except you'd have noticed it either way, considering you were very much aware of the constriction the circle put on you.

"Wait. Don't erase it yet." Megumi blurted, also stepping closer but to stop Yuji with a hand to his shoulder instead. "Why aren't you moving? And where did you even come from?" He questioned you, protectively pulling Itadori away.

You winced, knowing there was no way you could come up with an excuse to the plight you found yourself in.

"I came from the door?" You tried anyway.

"We would have heard and seen it if that had been the case." Megumi was unyielding with his grilling, eyes seething, "tell us the truth."

"Megumi! What are you doing?! That's Nanamin's wife!" Yuji hissed at his friend, terrified that would get them in trouble with their stern teacher.

"Yes. And she's also appeared out of thin air into the room where you were performing a ritual and is coincidentally standing right inside the demon summoning circle Nobara drew."

"You can't possibly think-"

"You're a demon?!" Nobara finally clicked it all together, her voice shrill with shock.

"No, I'm-" You cut yourself off, glancing at each of the teenagers surrounding you before sighing in defeat. They were smart kids, there was no way you would be able to beguile them in this situation, "well, shit. Guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"I know it would work!" Nobara whispered to herself, but it was still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear if Megumi's flat response was to be taken into account:

"You just said the exact opposite."

"I d-"

"Listen," you cut them off before they could start arguing further, you were literally in your pajamas, tired from the day and craving a night of sleep beside the love of your life. "I can explain. Just wipe off the circle so I can maybe move out of here?" You suggested, pleading eyes on Yuji (the most susceptible to your pleading).

"Yuji," Megumi sharply put a stop to his friend, "don't."

"But-"

"We don't know if it's safe." He continued, not once letting you out of his sight.

"Guys, I'm exactly the same person you've always known. Just... not human."

The three teenagers stared at you with different degrees of bewilderment. You threw your hands up in exasperation

"You know what? Just call Kento, please." was your suggestion. "If you don't trust me, at least you'll trust you sensei, won't you?"

"I... suppose." Megumi nodded once, still unsure, trading a glace with a shrugging Yuji.

"I'll call him." Nobara picked up her cellphone her glare settled on you. "Don't you dare trying anything!"

"I won't. I promise."

She huffed, narrowing her gaze and placing her phone at her ear. Kento picked up after two rings.

"Nanami sensei! Hi! So... we have your wife here" Nobara halted as if unsure on how to proceed. "inside a demon summoning circle," apparently, she decided to go for honesty.

There was a brief pause before you heard his voice from the other side of the line.

"Text me the address. I'm on my way" and then he hung up.

"He's-"

"On his way. Yes, I heard." You sighed, deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor to wait, in the limited space you had.

"You heard? I'm right beside Nobara and couldn't hear anything." Megumi seemed more curious than cautious then.

"Perks of being a demon, I guess. He's probably already inside his car by now. Send him the address please, Nobara."

She did as you told, finger flying over the screen.

"That's so cool! What else can you do?" Yuji sat down as well, leaning forward slightly, eyes wild in wonder and you couldn't help but thinking of how cute the boy was. It's no wonder Kento has a soft spot for the lovable teenager.

"Not much, really. I just have very sharp senses, maybe above average stamina too, but I've given up whatever supernatural skill I've had before the moment I decided to bind myself to Kento." You shrugged.

"That's still so cool!"

You smiled fondly at his excitement.

"Meh. That's lame. Did you seriously give up your powers for a man?"

And then you burst into laughter. Nobara truly didn't measure her words, but you enjoying her fiery, non-nonsense attitude nonetheless.

"Trust me. I would have said the same thing if I were in your place before I met my husband." You shrugged, still smiling.

Nobara regarded you for a second before deciding to sit down. If you were gonna be stuck there for while, she might as well.

"What else could you do?"

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

And that's how Nanami found you when Megumi opened the door for him.

"-and that's when I discovered demons do not mix well with chili." You finished, smiling proudly at yourself for being the cause behind their joy when Yuji fell back against the ground with a cackle and Nobara had to cover her mouth to muffle a snort.

"Ken!" You exclaimed once you saw him standing behind Megumi.

Kento had clearly rushed over, dressed in a crumpled beige long sleeved top, unironed slacks and a brown jacket thrown over the ensemble, hair still falling over his forehead.

He rushed forward ignoring his students until he was right before you, hand brushing away part of the circle on the ground before lifting you up and into his arms in a tight hug, "my love! I was worried."

"I know, I know, Ken. I'm so sorry." You murmured muffled against his shoulder and hugging him back.

"It's not your fault, love. Don't apologize." He carefully settled you back on your feet, hands carefully framing your face. Then his soft gaze steeled up suddenly and he turned aways from you and towards the three awaiting younglings.

"We're very sorry, Nanamin." Yuji started tentatively.

"You better be. Messing with things you do not understand, can you imagine what would have happened had you summoned other-"

"Ken. Ken, darling. It's fine. They won't do it again." You stopped your husband with both hands on his shoulders, dropping a kiss to his covered back, before joining his side and looking at the kids, "will you?"

"No."

"Never!"

"Nah."

"See?"

He huffed, but still agreed with a nod of his head, "well... it seems the matter is resolved then?"

"Yeah. I think we got the gist of the whole demoniac thing." Nobara spoke indifferently.

"Your wife is really cool, Nanamin!"

"I know, Itadori."

"Again, we apologize for the inconvenience, sensei."

"It's already been forgiven, Fushiguro. We'll take our leave now. Goodnight."

As always, Nanami kept everything succinct. To be honest, it was obvious to you that he just wanted to go back to bed for a good night of sleep after a tiring day of grading papers... preferentially cuddled with you.

"And kids,"

"Let's keep this between us, yes?"

...

"You guys think we can still catch the last showing of Human Earthworm?"

"Oh my god!"

"Shut up, Itadori."

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Blondes, feet, bowl-cut guardian lady.

He did not, they never had sex. But he was in love with her.

For sure. I think she struck him more like a teenager with the black hair and bangs, after the change (both visual and in attitude) she became a far more mature AND attractive person in his eyes.

PFFT, well, if you're saying they meet ALL of the criteria, I assume you mean both in looks and personality and hence be damn near his soulmate. DU drow could overlook weird feet (and a lot of other things, actually) if he were in love with the person in question. He would probably gently request they take better care of them, though.

Nothing special there, I'm afraid! He just has human-like skin - perhaps a little on the oily side but completely within the bounds of normality.

He runs a little hot, if that's anything. Oh! His hair is shockingly soft.

Correct! DU drow only (arguably) looks like a drow. He doesn't have their usual bone structure, height, or associated magical proclivities. He has some dark vision but its nowhere near as good as a drow's either.

I don't necessarily think all Bhaalspawn are the same way, but the Dark Urge IS quite different from the previous game's iterations. DU isn't simply Bhaal's child conceived with a partner, he's a piece of the god that supposedly slobbed off and grew legs and a face, pretty much. So yes, I do think that the Dark Urge at least is it's own unique thing.

The reason why he looks like a drow, is because he was placed in the Underdark upon creation. The metaphor I always use here is that if you place something infantile in a biome that is alien to it, it may try to adapt to it's environment to survive as it develops, to different degrees of success. This is why DU drow looks the way he does.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

You're welcome!

I've received a few snippets here that you can find through the #gift art tag! There is also the fic I'm in the process of writing called A Novel Experience on AO3.

It was just something I was compelled to do when I first drew him! The facial scars felt like they should lead into something else so I just made up a pattern on the spot, minus a tiny tweak here or there, it has stuck basically unchanged. All and any lore relating to the scars came later.

I get a lot of sweet messages but "thanks for your man's penis size" has to be one of my favorites. Thank you!

HELLO!

Thank you so much for the kind message! And that sounds like a fun dream, I love that your Tav got jealous of the attention ASTARION was receiving instead of mad that he had to share in the first place LOL

DU drow is desperately monogamous. He doesn't care what other people do with their lives but he's very much a "one and done" kind of person.

He would be willingly to participate in a threeway/have group sex with a partner, assuming the rules and regulations of said encounter were laid out clearly before or at least mutually understood between them. He would never want to see these people again after the fact though.

She does not, naturally I had no idea that this character was going to turn into anything when i made him, so I just... Made a lady. And since she was supposed to be a "guardian" I gave her a Joan of Arc type of look.

I've occasionally thought about changing this, but... Y'know, sometimes you don't need lore to be that in-depth, LOL.

The emperor gave everyone else a nondescript hottie he assumed they would trust, DU drow just got the same treatment. She's not even DU drow's type but definitely someone he would be compelled to take seriously yet not feel threatened by - so ultimately, her design does make sense.

---

That's all I have the energy for tonight folks, as always thank you for the many encouraging and sweet messages you send me, I'm sorry I can't reply to all of them! 😭

Have yourselves a great week!

[98chao]

Question like whats ur process when coloring ur drawings

the truth is, i don't really have a process, i just kinda... ball it? X) i usually do what looks appealing to me personally, but i can write you some tips that work for me.

1. atmosphere

usually the colours i pick are meant to go with the general vibe of the drawing, the background atmosphere, etc. take this shitpost i drew for example:

even though the colours i picked for shadow milk are in the orange-green range, you can still tell he's supposed to be blue, right?

i did it like that because of the very warm lighting, even in the original monika pic you can see her colours are a lot darker and orange compared to her sprite. people change colours in lighting!

if i had just gone with straight up blue, it would've looked a lot worse. yeah, it's how he actually looks, but you can see it doesn't go with the rest of the art at all.

2. artistic intention

when it comes to intention, it should go without saying that you don't need a deep reason to pick certain colours and "it just looks good like that" is a valid enough reason (i do this all the time). but if you want to make art with any sort of symbolism, colour can be a way to help convey they meaning of your piece ... something something color theory, something something every colour has meaning, yea u get it. look into color theory

my example of this is this art i drew in february:

this differs for each person, but usually what your eyes would be drawn to first is shadow milk on the left, because he has extreme contrast to muddy warm tones of the art with his vibrant blue. next is the lily petals that are bright yellow, while it's still a warm colour, the brightness of it contrasts with the rest of the painting. i did it like this because 1) the lily petals were what i wanted to point out and 2) shadow milk is supposed to stand out and be an outlier !! i hope all that makes sense

3. ok here's where i talk about actually colouring/shading

a) Bro Just Hue Shift

ok so like shading depends on the atmosphere blah blah, but fr hue shifting for shading literally works like 90% of the time, doubly so if you have no real light source. example:

none of the colours used for shading are the same hue as the base colour i used. this is what it would look like if i used the same hue:

the colours, especially the golds just look dull and kinda gross. sonic especially looks sickly because the warmer tint was taken away 😭

this is one of those things where you just have to do what looks good to you, but typically when it comes to warmer colours i hue shift into a cooler colour (the exception is when it's gold like the jewellery above, which usually looks better with orange, when it's hair i usually do cooler colours tho). with cooler colours, most of the time other cooler colours are better (like blue with teal or purple shading, green with blue shading, purple with blue shading, etc)

this is partly where the "i just ball it" comes from, it just depends on what i think works for the art lol

b) your light source determines the shading colour

yeah, so when you have an art with an actual light source, usually the colour of that light source (with daylight it'd be like pale yellow or smth--anything w the sun would be in the warmer range) determines what colour the shade should be. light is a warm colour? the shade should be a cool colour. if the light was a cool colour, it'd be the opposite. usually you'd pick the complementary colour of the light source, but again i kinda ball it and do what i personally think looks fine.

here, you can see that the light source and thus the lighting is warm coloured while the shade is blue. (also, back to the atmosphere point, you can tell she's still purple despite the fact that neither the highlight nor shadow are purple)

there's also midtones in shading, which is optional, but you can achieve it simply by blending the light and shade together, HOWEVER you can also choose what the midtone colour will be which can make your art look better.

this art is unfinished, but you can see me do it a little bit here. it's also one of those "i'm just balling it" things because how you choose to do it is kinda just up to you, but it makes your shading look less flat :P i recommend actually looking into this because there are probably videos or posts that explain this specifically better than me

oh also, usually art programs have tools for colour correction like gradient maps, tone curve, levels, etc. that you can adjust your art's colours with. i recommend doing that if you want to play around with your colours a bit. these are the ones in clip studio paint 3.0

i think that's like the most i can say about colouring. i didn't know what exactly you meant by your question so i just went over everything it could've applied to lol. it's not something i think about that deeply so explaining it is kinda hard...

i can't really give you any tutorials about actually shading or anything because i just straight up don't know how to explain that sorry, and i don't have any speedpaints or process videos so... you must figure it out your own way (or look up videos on youtube) (or study other peoples art)... pave your own path and use the tips i gave if they're useful to you...

[misshoneyimhome]

willy the swiftie is my favorite! what fic would you write for him since cardigan is his favorite song?

Oh babe, this sparks so many ideas ❤️ I suppose it really depends on whether William is more of a lyrics kind of guy or a melody kind of guy—does he actually pay attention to the lyrics and feel a connection to the story, or does he just enjoy the vibe, letting the soothing sounds help him relax 🧘🏼‍♀️?

I can absolutely picture him being the latter, which gives such cosy, lazy sofa vibes. The two of you lounging on the couch with a film or TV show you’ve both seen so many times that there’s no need to pay much attention. His thumb softly tracing circles on your arm as you lean against his chest, both of you simply enjoying the stillness and each other’s company.

But if he’s the type who really listens to the lyrics, trying to understand the meaning and connect with it, then that could inspire such a different moment -

➼｡ﾟ

Cardigan I William Nylander ✐

William Nylander wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. Sure, he’d occasionally get nostalgic about his childhood in Sweden or reminisce about a big hockey win from years ago, but he was more of a live in the moment kind of bloke. Unless it involved hockey stats, line combinations, or plays, he didn’t overthink much.

But over the past few weeks, something peculiar had started to happen. A specific song kept cropping up—first on the radio in his car, then in the middle of a shuffle on his Spotify playlist. Cardigan by Taylor Swift.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. It was catchy, sure, but not the sort of song he’d usually pay attention to. Yet, for some reason, he found himself letting it play instead of skipping it. And then, one evening, as he sat alone in his Toronto flat after practice, the lyrics stopped him in his tracks.

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite.”

The line tugged at something deep inside him, stirring a memory he hadn’t allowed himself to revisit in years. He leaned back on the sofa, staring out at the city lights, the words echoing in his head.

“You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.”

A sharp pang spread through his chest—unexpected, almost like his heart had skipped a beat. And just like that, your face appeared in his mind, vivid and unshakable.

He thought of you.

The way you used to look at him with those eyes that seemed to see straight through him, past all the bravado and the hockey jerseys. The sound of your laugh when he’d tease you about your so-called “armchair coaching,” only for you to throw some obscure stat back at him to prove him wrong. The way you’d made him feel like he was more than just a player, more than just a number on a jersey.

He hadn’t let himself think about you in years. Not since that last argument—the one where you’d accused him of caring more about hockey than you, and he’d said you deserved someone who wouldn’t have to split his life between love and a career.

But now, as the song played softly in the background, it was as though the lyrics were unlocking something he’d carefully tucked away. He thought about the way you used to call him “Willy” with that teasing lilt, the way you’d sit beside him at the rink, bundled in scarves and gloves, cheering him on.

He thought about how much he missed you.

William ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for letting his mind wander like this. It wasn’t like him. He was the sort of guy who kept moving forward, who focused on the next game, the next goal, the next win.

But as Cardigan faded into the next song, the weight in his chest lingered. It wasn’t just the music. It was you. You had always been there, somewhere in the back of his mind, like a favourite cardigan tucked away but never truly forgotten.

And for the first time in years, William allowed himself to wonder: Did you ever think about him, too?

[diminuel]

Dean, Sam and Castiel devil fruits if they were in One Piece ? Haki ?

I don't think they'd have Devil Fruits. When I drew that Scoobynatural like crossover pic I imagined that their particular skill and powers would be somewhat adapted according to the rules of the world they were visiting.

Since Sam can shout demons into submission I suppose that would translate into Haki. Dean probably too because in a Scoobynatural style AU he'd be the guy who vaguely knows the manga or anime and would therefore know it exists and just tries using it (successfully, though I think he'd be useless in trying to explain how it works). Cas just has Grace that still works, uncomfortably and unreliably though.

In a complete AU then I think Cas might be... I don't know Skypian, Lunerian, another seemingly wiped out race, or a MADs/ Vegapunk creation (he is a seraph after all). Dean's a guy who would reject DFs and rely solely on his power, Haki and marksmanship (like his Marine dad always preached). And Sam would be the one with a Devil Fruit. But I don't know what model. Probably also a mythical zoan due to the danger of being completely absorbed by the will of the fruit (to mimic the demon blood, Lucifer possession thingy).

[angelasscribbles]

The Pizza Caper

Series: Unbothered

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake, Riley x Liam, Riley x Hana

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Mature Themes

Word Count: 1,817

A/N: @karahalloway sent me an AITA post about guests ordering pizza to a wedding reception after not getting any food before it ran out and the bride getting upset about them ruining her aesthetic. And I thought, what if Riley ordered pizza that night in Lythikos when Olivia didn't feed them? It was going to be the Bad Romance gang but as I started writing, I was like you know what? This gives Unbothered vibes. So here we are.

“Hey!” Riley watched as yet another waiter passed by without stopping to serve their table. “What about us?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The waitress gave her an apologetic look. “I’m just following orders.”

She huffed as she threw herself back into her chair. “This is bullshit!”

“That’s Olivia.” Drake drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He was used to Olivia treating him like a second class citizen, but she had never starved him before. “She must really hate you.”

“Eh,” Riley shrugged dismissively. “She’s just jealous of me, that’s all.” Her eyes scanned the room until she found Liam. She smiled and waggled her fingers at him. He rewarded her with a huge smile from his table at the front. Olivia noticed.

“Damn. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure you’d be dead, Brooks.”

“So, are we supposed to just sit here and starve?”

“Doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

“Oh, there’s always a choice.” She smirked as she drew her cell phone from her clutch.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering pizza. What do you want on yours?”

Drake stared at her with his mouth open. “You can’t just have pizza delivered in the middle of a formal ball! Can you?”

“Why not?”

He stared at her for a few more seconds and then threw his head back as laughter bellowed out of him. “I want meat. Lots of it. Pepperoni, bacon, sausage, whatever they got.”

“What about you, Hana?”

“Oh! I… uh… I’ve never had pizza before. I don’t know what to order.”

“It’s ok, girl. I got you.” Riley gave her a wink.

Drake watched as Hana turned pink under Riley’s flirtations. His hand slipped under the table to adjust himself, amazed at how this woman could make anything sexy. His gaze darted to the front table. Liam might like her, but he wouldn’t be able to marry her, right? He still had a shot.

Riley ordered the pizza and then instructed them to text her when they arrived so she could meet them at the door.

Thirty minutes later, Hana delicately picked up her knife and fork and started cutting her pizza. “It smells great!”

“That’s probably just ‘cause you’re starving,” Drake mumbled through a mouthful of pepperoni and bacon.

Riley lifted a slice laden with cheese and vegetables to her mouth and sank her teeth in. She closed her eyes in appreciation. “Mmmm! I didn’t know they made pizza this good in Europe!”

Drake lowered his hand to peer at her over his pizza. “What do you mean?”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“I mean,” He leaned back in his chair, as he sat his slice down on the empty plate in front of him. “What do you mean you didn’t know Europe had good pizza?”

Riley shrugged. “Why would I know that?”

“Where do you think pizza originated?” he scoffed. “I mean, Italy is right—” his train of thought completely derailed as he watched her lick her fingers, one at a time.

She glanced up at him when he went quiet. “What?”

“Never mind. Pizza totally originated in Chicago.” He would agree with her that the sky was green if that’s what it took to make her notice him.

Max approached their table. “Excuse me, Riley, but they’re about to start the dancing and I was wondering if you would do me the honor of…. Is that pizza? Where did you get pizza?” He grabbed an empty chair from the table behind them and shoved it between the two women, forcing Hana to scoot over. “Can I have a slice of that?”

“Of course!” Riley lifted a cheesy, steaming slice from the box and handed it to him with a smirk. “Your brother paid for it.”

Max shoved half the piece into his mouth and bit down. He closed his eyes as he chewed, savoring the explosion of flavors that danced across his tongue. “Oh, this is so good!”

“Didn’t you have lobster, Beaumont?” Drake shot him a disdainful look.

“I did. It was delicious. But so is this.”

“It is really good, Riley,” Hana interjected. “Thank you for introducing me to it.”

The tap tap of stiletto heels interrupted the conversation. “What the hell is this?”

Riley looked up at the hostess with a disarming smile. “Oh, hi, Olivia. This is an American dish called pizza.”

“Yes, Riley, I know what pizza is! I’m not an imbecile. Also, it’s not an American dish, you plebeian.” If the duchess clenched her jaw any harder, her teeth might shatter. “What is pizza doing at my formal ball?”

“Oh, well,” Riley paused to swallow and wipe her fingers on a napkin before explaining. “Your staff never fed us and we were hungry.”

“Yes,” the redhead smirked. “That was by design, but it still doesn’t explain—”

“What was by design?”

Olivia jumped as Liam appeared behind her. “Oh! I….” her mind spun frantically. She couldn’t admit in front of the prince that she had purposely sabotaged her own guests. How would that look to a man who was interviewing women for the position of queen? “The meal! It was meticulously planned to please both the eye and the palate. Bringing a pedestrian food like pizza into the room has ruined the aesthetic!”

Liam’s eyes scanned across the table, taking in both the pizza boxes and the guests. His gaze settled on Riley’s face with an adoring grin. “I’m sure Riley had a good reason.”

Riley smiled back at him as she leaned forward, giving him a better view of her ample cleavage. “We were starving! The waitstaff never brought us a stitch of food, and as you can see, dinner is now over.”

Liam glanced around the room. It was true. People were milling about, the band was tuning up, and the wait staff were clearing tables, not serving food. His attention went back to the table, noting the still clean place settings. Other than streaks of pizza sauce on Drake’s plate, which he was now licking, there was no sign that anyone at the table had eaten. “What an unfortunate oversight.”

Olivia’s face flamed red with anger and embarrassment as she tried to distance herself from the situation. “Yes, a terrible mishap. I’ll speak to the kitchen staff personally to find out how this happened and ensure it never happens again.”

“The music is starting.” Max stood up and offered his hand to Riley. “I’m sure Liam will be dancing the first dance with the hostess, per tradition. As one of your sponsors, I would be happy to escort you through the Cordonian Waltz.”

“Yes,” Olivia gloated, her hand landing on Liam’s arm. “We should go dance.”

“Of course,” Liam gave her a forced smile as he tamped down his disappointment. The smile he gave Riley was real. “I’ll see you later, Lady Riley.”

As they walked away, Olivia glared over her shoulder at Riley.

Drake shook his head. “She really hates you!”

“She really doesn’t,” Riley laughed. “You’ll see. Once we aren’t competing for the same man, Olivia and I will be friends. I’m sure of it!”

Drake watched as Max led Riley out on the dance floor. It was the first time in his life that he wished he had learned the damned Cordonian Waltz. He should have distracted himself somehow, but instead, he sat there like an idiot watching Max holding her close. “Fuck.” He sat back in his chair with a sigh and reached for another slice of pizza.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“What?” He fumbled the pizza in his hands as he looked up at Hana in panic. He had forgotten she was still at the table. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“No more than you.” He scoffed.

“What?” Pink splotches suffused her face and neck. “I… n…no, I mean, yes, she’s my friend but—”

“Hey, hey!” he reached across the table to pat her hand. “It’s okay. I’m not going to tell anyone. There’s no need to panic.”

Hana looked down at the tablecloth and then up at the ceiling. No response came to mind, so she didn’t give one.

“One thing you should know, though.”

She finally looked at him. “What’s that?”

“Liam’s not going to marry her. But I am.”

She was staring at him with her mouth agape when Riley made it back to the table.

“Hey guys, what are you talking about?”

“Ah, nothing!” Hana sat up straighter. Her eyes jerked from Drake’s face to Riley's. “I was just thinking…. I saw a magnificent piano in the music room. I would love it if you’d let me play something for you.”

Before she could answer, Drake interjected, “Actually, Brooks, I was hoping you’d want to explore this place with me. I know where the wine is.”

“Oh, she can drink wine any day,” Hana told him sweetly. “But it’s rare to find a Steinway Centennial Concert Piano!”

“But—”

“Guys, stop it!” Riley giggled. “There’s no need to fight over me!”

“No, we weren’t—”

“It’s not like that—”

A collective gasp from the rest of the room drew their attention. Riley turned around just in time to witness Olivia in a lip lock with Liam.

Drake and Hana’s eyes met in mutual concern about how Riley would take this turn of events. But when she turned back to them, she was smiling.

Hana reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Drake answered. “Because you just watched Liam kiss Olivia.”

“So? Liam didn’t look that into it. Besides, I’d kiss her so I can’t blame him for it.”

“Oh!” Heat flamed across Hana’s face again. “So, you like girls, too?”

“Absolutely!” Riley leaned closer to Hana with a smirk. “Especially sweet, shy girls.”

Hana’s eyes went wide as she lost the ability to speak.

“What about guys?” Drake drew her attention back to himself. “I mean, other than princes. Do you have a type?”

“Why?” she countered. “Are you hoping you’re my type?”

His response was quick and unabashed. “Yes.”

“Tell you what,” she moved away from Hana to position her lips right next to his ear. “After I spend some time with Hana tonight, I’ll meet you in that wine cellar and we’ll find out. How’s that sound?”

“That….yes!”

“Bring the leftover pizza. Now I have to go find Liam.” She turned to Hana. “See you in the music room when this is over.”

They both watched her walk away. Both were determined to sway her from Liam’s side.

When Riley disappeared out the French doors onto the patio, they turned their attention back to each other. Their eyes met over the half empty pizza boxes, both sets filled with understanding. They liked each other and it wasn’t personal, but the battle lines had been drawn and neither one was pulling any punches.

[twosdays-trash]

Everything in its right place Part 1

Enea-centric hurt/comfort Shapeshifter Au- 3K

heres some art i drew for this au too :D! -=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-

As a kid growing up in Italy and a fan of racing you automatically become a Valentino Rossi fan, it's a right of passage Enea supposes, and he's no stranger. He admired the man, the god himself, Valentino, which is why he was shocked that the man approached him. 

It was the hours following free practice and Enea's stomach was growling, and he had forgotten to put some fresh food into his fridge, so he figured the best course of action was to go out to the store and get something easy to make. Peeling himself off of the couch in his motorhome and grabbing his wallet he made his way out the door and started walking in the direction of the closest store. Only, he couldn't get more than four steps away from the motorhome when he was stopped by none other than Valentino Rossi.

“Hello,” Valentino Greeted, a small smile on his face. He is wearing his merch or something that looks like it. There is a little helmet and VR48 with something written below, but Enea can't tell what it says. The jacket he's wearing isn't too far off from regular Valentino Rossi Merch so Enea doesn't bat an eye at it too much.

“Ah, Hello Mr Rossi,” Enea greets back, shakey and weirdly out of breath despite the fact he has hardly moved. 

“Mr Rossi!” Valentino Guffaws, “Please kid, just call me Vale. Mr Rossi makes me feel old!”

You are old Enea thinks offhandedly, but does not voice this though. “Sorry.”

Vale waves a hand through the air placidly, “Bah, it's no worries. Besides, it's only a natural response right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,”  Enea shrugs. He's not sure if this is how the conversation between his literal idol and himself should have gone. It probably would have been a lot smoother if he weren't processing this on the fumes of what he had for breakfast before practice. 

 “So…” 

“Hm?”

“What did you need?”

“Ah! that right! I came here to ask you a question for next year!

Puzzled, Enea cocks his head to the side and furrows his brows. Next year? Does he mean my seat or something else?

“you mean for what seat I'm going for?”

“yes! I was wondering if you would like to join the Academy?-”

THE academy team that he started this year?

“-There is an open space and we were wondering if you would like to join. We’ve been watching you all season and looked into your past seasons in other categories and we like how you’re doing things!”

“So. you're asking me if I want to join the Academy team next year?”

“yep,” Vale nods, a smile on his face.

“What is the academy like?”

“What is it like?”

“yeah, how does training work? Is it group or individual programs? How would it work?”

Vale crosses his arms, furrows his brows, and squints his eyes, thinking, “Hmm… well, yes to both things you asked about the groups or individuals.” he unfurls himself and starts gesturing with his hands loudly and continues talking.

“most of the training and practice comes in groups. I like to think of the academy as a little family of sorts, so we normally do things together. A majority of the time training takes place at my ranch in Tavulia where we review races together, practice riding on the dirt tracks, and also work out sometimes.”

Ah, so they do everything together basically.

“We also do some one-on-one things if you have specific concerns about something, or if there is something that you or we feel the need to change. Most of the boys in the academy have a room at the ranch for when they are staying for more than the day, so you could also have your own room. No shared room though!”

Enea nods his head along to everything that Vale is saying. Group everything. Gosh, that sounds like heaven and hell all at once. He would have the ability to talk to people, hang out with Valentino fucking Rossi, AND ride bikes as much as he wants. However, the never-ending togetherness, and the ability to practice, process, and perfect his craft all by himself would be hellish. 

The thought of not having the ability to workout alone without the group sounds horrible. On a good day, he can hardly handle going to public gyms during rush hour when it's mostly older men, but that same amount of time but with teenagers his age or younger working out together in an enclosed space does NOT sound productive in his mind.

He also thinks of his shifting abilities. How he can’t go for that long without shifting, and still has his times where he accidentally shifts because of too many emotions happening all at once. More times than Enea can count he has shifted the moment he got behind closed doors from all the excitement of the day finally getting out. He thinks about the times when he accidentally shifted before getting to his motorhome and having to hide, feeling all too big while hiding between or underneath whatever thing was closest to his giant furry body. He thinks about the many times when he accidentally scratched Carlo, Mr. Gresini, or his parent with his giant claws and gangly limbs. Of all the animals that Enea could shift into a Bear was probably the worst one.

“That all sounds wonderful, but could I get some time to think about it?”

A soft smile crosses Vales's face and Enea feels a soft tingling at his fingertips that he ignores.

“Of course you can.”

“Is there a final date you need an answer by?”

“Yep, by the end of the season.”

Ok. the end of the season is in a few months, that should be enough time to figure out his response, right?

…

…

It does end up being enough time. The next day after qualifying, Enea brings up his conflicts with the offer to his manager, Carlo. He brings up all the beautiful things that Vale brought up, but also all the things that he's worried will or might happen. He brings up his worries of shifting in front of them, and how that would end horribly, especially with the animal that he is. 

Carlo had stated that he believes that Enea should stay there at Gresini, but if he felt it was necessary to leave then he could do so. Enea didn't want to leave though, he loved this tight-knit family of a team that he had the luck to be a part of. With Mr Gresini being almost like a second dad to him, it just felt wrong to leave that alone, but Enea also felt that the team was getting stronger and was going to go far in the coming season.

So on Saturday night, Enea made it his choice to find Valentino and reject his offer as softly as possible. Maybe he would do the whole ‘it no you, it's me’ to Vale, and a snicker manages to force its way out of Enea's mouth as he walks down the motorhome lane. Making his way towards the VR46 homes he tries to script the rejection in his brain as softly and swiftly as possible.

Hello Vale, no that sounds too formal. Hi Vale, I’ve come here to discuss your inquiry? to discuss your offer. The offer is better. Ok. Hi Vale, I'm here to discuss your offer, could we talk inside maybe? Would that be rude since I'm inviting myself into his motorhome? Wait, it's not even his! Oh god, this is going to go terribly.

—————————

MotoGP Rookie year

Even though he had turned down Vale's offer he still sometimes joins the Academy in some of their escapades and training sessions despite not being a part of the academy. It is nice having friends in such a cutthroat sport like MotoGP, but Enea has sadly (or gladly, he supposes) that he has never had the chance or time to build such a close relationship with the other drivers that a falling out would be a devastation. Like how the falling out with Marc and Vale went. The topic has become taboo in the Ranch household, even though you cannot mention racing without either Marc or Vale without there being the intertwining of the two. It's beautiful in a strange way, he supposes. 

Despite this, the bond of the Academy drivers, both Ex and current, is unbelievably strong. A lot of times Enea feels like an outsider to the group though, which he is in a way, but it's still strange. 

There are references and inside jokes that are made that he doesn't understand. Sometimes a joke is made and some of the academy members will give me this wide-eyed panicked look, like he’ll be learning whatever secret reference they made with a four-word joke. 

Enea is a people person, an extrovert. He loves talking and chatting and hanging out with people he holds dear and strangers all the same. So when he starts feeling like he's not wanted somewhere it stings a little bit, but it's nothing new. he knows he's chatty and he knows when to stop based on facial and body language alone. But seeing this behavior come from his friends hurts on a whole new level.

Sometimes it's unbearable. Like there's a tension settled over the house whenever he's there, and Enea knows that it has to do with him. On the bad days, he can always feel someone watching him, staring at him at almost constant times. He asked about it before, sort of.

 Typically on these days, someone from the group is missing, whether that's Vale, Pecco, Bez, Cele, Mig, Franky, or whoever, someone is always missing, and when Enea enters the building and asks “Where are they?” It's like he asked if he could invite Marc Marquez to the ranch or like he killed someone's grandma.

He doesn't understand, and they don't try to help him understand, so he stops trying. When he sees someone missing he stops asking. When they make a joke he doesn't understand he looks at his phone or away to pretend he isn't listening. He starts making excuses now and then so that he doesn't have to go to the ranch and so that he doesn't feel like an outsider with his friends. More and more often it starts to feel like Family PLUS Enea, and he just can't stand that feeling.

It's a slow process, pulling away. He tries to do it slowly, missing a few meets throughout a couple of months, then slowly adding more and more excuses to the board. It gets to the point where he starts scheduling hangouts with other people and sponsoring events on the days that their get-togethers happen. Putting so much effort into missing these hangouts makes Enea feel like an asshole, it weighs on him and he sure as hell hopes that no one can see the amount of pressure it's putting on him. 

These get-togethers were some of the few times when he could hang out with his friends with no worries about the media or anything, but now that he's hardly talking to them the pressure is building and building. Similar to how he can't go too long without shifting, he also cannot go a long time without interactions with his friends. Speaking of, Enea figures now would be the best time to shift during this weekend. It's Thursday evening and he's completed all the media and video requirements earlier in the day. He thinks that this will probably be the only free time he will have in the coming future. 

The TV in his Motorhome is playing softly on a random cartoon station, Enea hoped it would bring him comfort but after staring blankly at the little characters on the screen for 30 minutes he resigned himself to shifting for the night. He's always tried to hold off shifting for as long as possible, simply on the count of how dangerous and destructive his animal form is. Not because he goes feral or loses all inhibitions, no, it's because of his size and physical attributes that come along with being a black bear. 

He finds that it's hard to hide while a bear, especially if he shifts to places like cities or towns not near forests at all. Not only hiding is hard but so is moving in the safety of his motorhome. Since bears are so big the floor always creaks dangerously when he walks and he always ends up tearing or breaking something in the home. The amount of times he's torn the blankets and pillows on his bed from trying to cuddle them is too many to count. Not to mention all of the glasses and bowls he's broken when trying to get something to drink. 

After a day or night of shifting, Enea always feels a pit of dread and embarrassment. It's always so embarrassing to go up to his manager and mumble I’ve ripped the sheets again or I broke some more glasses.  Maybe Enea should start asking for plasticware instead of glass so that he doesn't have to deal with that conversation. He should also look into some heavy-duty blankets and pillows so that he doesn't have to confront the team again, to see their pitying looks at something he can't control.

Enea, tiredly sits forward on the couch, resting his head in his hands and sighs. He can only put off shifting for so long, so pushing his hands on his knees he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen to get some things ready for his shift.

A big metal bowl for water, a giant bag of nuts and dried fruit trail mix, another giant metal bowl to put the trail mix into, and a couple of large towels to place under the water bowl. Hands full he brings all the materials into his room, placing the bag on the bed, an empty bowl next to the door, and the large towels next to the bowl. He brings the other empty bowl back into the kitchen to fill it with water, before carefully making his way back into his room and setting it down softly on the towels.

Sighing heavily he turns around and grabs the bag of trail mix, tears it open, and pours it into the food bowl on the ground. God, he feels like he's feeding a dog. An animal. Which, he supposes he is but this just feels a little demoralizing. 

Once the bag is empty he walks back to the kitchen to throw the bag away, checks the door is locked, windows are closed, and everything is prepared for the shift he makes his way over to the couch. Enea has always found it easier to have a distraction while he shifted so that it wasn't too abrupt or painful, so he sat down on the floor in front of the TV and let the transformation happen. 

The shift happens both too fast and too slow, the tingling sensation starting at his fingertips and making its way up his arms, into his chest, legs, and head. He feels so heavy and light at the same time like a weight is being lifted from his human shoulders and being placed into the belly of his bear form.

He blinks and the world has shifted, it's a little taller, more daunting. Carefully Enea moves his paws around, making sure he has full control of all his limbs when he hears the careful but sharp knocks at his door.

If I don't move or do anything they will walk away. Surely.

“Enea?”

Uh oh. This is the worst. Seriously? Of all times for Vale to try and talk to me? The ONE time where I willingly shift. God.

Enea sits as still as he possibly can, controlling his breaths so carefully to make sure the heavy breaths that naturally come with being a bear aren't heard through the door. 

It's silent for another minute when Vale knocks again, “I'm not sure if you can hear me Enea, but I can hear the TV so I assume you're on the couch.”

Shit.  

“-that's ok, I don't always want to answer the door either! So, I figured that I may as well talk to you through the door.”

Enea holds his breath, hoping for Vale to just get this over with. He just wants to go back to his bed, try to cuddle the blankets again, and sleep the night away. 

“I and some of the others have noticed that you've been missing a lot of get-togethers, and that's not an issue since you're a rookie. You have a lot of obligations to attend to, I understand. But, you’ve missed over half the get-togethers that have happened this year and were worried.” Enea can hear a muffled sigh from Vale. 

He didn't want to worry them, that's why he tried to carefully pull away.

There is a shuffle outside the door and Vale starts up again, “It's ok for you to be struggling, it's normal and we are here to support you through thick and thin. We want to help you.” he starts to sound exasperated, “Let us help you. Whatever is wrong, just tell me.”

He can hear Vale take a deep breath, a calming breath probably. Enea can just imagine the look on his face, a look that is rarely given to him simply because he tries to make sure there is nothing to worry about with him. 

He's seen the look directed at Pecco, Bez, Luca, and honestly, most people are a part of the Academy. But since Enea has always kept high spirits, never talking about his worries or fears, the look has never been angled his way. 

When Vale looks worried it's like seeing a dad worried about his kid who just fell off their bike and scraped their knee. He knows that they will be ok, it's just a scratch, but he still worries because he never wants his kid to hurt. The way that Valentino's brows furrow, wrinkling his forehead, makes him look his age. His mouth always ticks down in a little frown before pursing, listening to whatever issue is being discussed. He will always kiss his teeth and wave his hands around, moving around sharply but fluidly, showing that it's okay and things can be fixed. 

Enea wished he could see the look directed at himself for once.

“I’ll leave you alone now, but when you feel up to it, talk to me. Please?”

Silence.

“ok, I’ll see you later.”

There's another pause, then the muffled sounds of Vale walking down the stairs and away from the motorhome. Enea makes sure not to move for another few minutes before deeming it safe for him to move. 

He shifts himself forward to stand on his paws and chuffs to himself, upset that he's managed to worry Vale when he tried so hard to make sure he didn't disappoint or worry anyone. maneuvering his body around the living room he takes soft but creaky steps towards his bedroom. Briefly Enea stops at the doorway to drink water and eat some of the trail mix he left for himself before climbing onto the bed. the springy mattress creaking and groaning as he settles into the middle. 

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

[the-stranger-of-the-hidden-world]

Watching as Hiccup deciphered what she was trying to get across, it seemed like she had succeeded. Though, he wasn't as excited. Relieved, maybe? Happy to understand, though there was some sort of undercurrent to it...something like pity, perhaps? She supposed that made sense. It wasn't uncommon for dragons to pity her for as far as they found her strange and odd and had a lack of trust in her, they also seemed to just pity her.

Like her very nature and existence was a pitiable one. Like a wounded animal that wouldn't live for very long whose only option left was to be put out of its misery.

Well, she wasn't a wounded animal. She didn't need to be put out of a misery she didn't feel. Loneliness and isolation, perhaps, but she wasn't miserable. Far from - she loved her brothers and for as 'othered' as she felt, she liked being herself. She liked who she was. Even if she didn't always understand it, she didn't know any other way to be...so how could she know anything else?

And if she couldn't know anything else...why be morose about it?

Perhaps the name she was given was a bit cruel, but it was hers. It was who she was and she couldn't be anyone else but herself and her namesake was part of it. She was who she was...and she couldn't and wouldn't change it. "Yes. Stranger." She replied with a warm smile of her own, nodding at Hiccup putting a hand on her chest to further emphasize her response. "Stranger."

It wasn't long before she felt a gentle nudge from her side, Streak nuzzling himself underneath her arm as he cautiously glanced between her and Hiccup. It seemed he had grown tired of being chased around with a stick, but Seabreak was still holding his. Did he ever get tired? Is...is it working?

Smiling and giving him a little croon, Stranger pressed her face against his smooth and shimmery forehead, rumbling in her throat at him. It is! I'm getting used to this. I'm learning...and I think they are, too. Looking over at their dragons as well, she hummed a little to herself as she leaned against her brothers. I think...I really think we can trust them. I really think...they could be our friends.

Sunchaser had his reservations about her growing sentimentality. Not all dragons stayed within the Hidden World, that much was true, but it felt strange to be so close with humans after staying away from them for their whole lives. But at the same time...Stranger had been cut off from her own kind for essentially her whole life. Would it really be right to try to convince her to still leave like they had planned? Though, maybe she still was.

He would leave that up to her. Whether they stayed or left, they would not lead humans to the Hidden World. That was the rule and they had it for a reason. Stranger was an exception.

Turning the page, Stranger got to work once again. She'd gotten the hang of using her drawings to communicate. She'd always used them to copy whatever she saw around her, since she never had a need to use them in this way, so it was different trying to copy her thoughts to make external meaning out of them than just copying something she saw.

It was different! It was stimulating! She had always been a deep thinker, even if the only language she had access to was that of the dragons, but she had one - a language of images and colours.

On the left page, she drew the waves of the sea with a sharp break in the middle where the crests spread out and up in a splash, the break extending down into a V shape from which another Light Fury burst out of the water. She tried to emphasize the way the water was completely broken up by him splashing out, finishing with a couple vertical dashes to signify that he was the second brother. Now that she knew this worked, she didn't need to wait to draw the next one.

Which was...a little trickier. She named the youngest brother as such because when he took a running start, he became a white blur. She tried to draw his shape to be more fluid and like a vague shape that trailed behind him with speed, but it didn't quite get across what she saw visually whenever he ran that fast.

She huffed a bit to herself in frustration, resting her head in her hand for a second as she pouted with the pencil in hand...until she noticed in the corner of her eye the charcoal smudges on her hand, peering at it curiously through dark eyes as her thick brows furrowed.

Rubbing it between her fingers, Stranger's eyes widened with a small gasp. The charcoal could smudge!

With renewed vigour, she used her fingers to smudge his shape and drag the smudges behind him, leaving his head and his front shape clearer than his wings and tail, making that more obscured. Now that she had figured out that she could smudge the charcoal, she felt a lot more confident in what she was trying to explain. Now, he properly looked like a streak across the page.

Marking it with three vertical dashes, she turned the sketchbook to Hiccup and pointed from the corresponding pages to her respective brothers on each side of her. Sunchaser was easy to explain, but she hoped that the others wouldn't be that much more difficult. Though, she wouldn't blame them if Streak's was harder to understand.

She tried her best...that was what counted.

As she repeated their names, Hiccup smiled, nodding. "Yes, yes that's us!"

Valka watched with interest, as this was uncharted territory, but Hiccup seemed to be doing well in communicating with the girl.

They waited patiently as she drew, and when she showed them her finished work, they both leaned forward to get a better look.

Hiccup's brows furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

Both figures on either side had their backs turned to her. What does that mean? Shunned? Not belonging?

And, her face scribbled out...she was different, a...

"...Stranger..." Hiccup's eyes widened.

Valka turned to him, "What?"

"She's...she's a stranger, even to herself. Don't you see? She's human, raised by dragons. She knows she's different from them, but she doesn't know much about humans either. She's both, and neither at the same time..." Gesturing to the picture, he said, "This? This is how she sees herself."

Looking at Stranger, he offered a kind smile, pointing to her. "Stranger?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)

[dawnofiight]

I offer to the public: Black Sam!

So. Erm. :D

Peep the way I didn't feel like doing plaid

Taglist:

@achios

@angel-shaw (I just felt like you should be @ ed for this particular drawing-)

@ashertickler

@aurorialwolf

@dukecollinsbf

@infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt

@moronkyne

@pandoraroid

@plaqying

@porters-fangs

@professionallyyappinabtangst (I literally just showed you this)

@puffin-smoke

@skunkox

@starlogician

@sunsickcrab

@themeridian

@tunacatfishes

@www-dot-why-are-you-here-dot-com

@zimix-whispers

[demigod-of-the-agni]

they all get called pullingo and are kicked out of the city

Pavitr and Bhim Rajeshkumar and Karna Prabhakar.. the spider bros...