#instead of always scheduling my art to post in the mornings (well morning in my timezone)

[kinstein-art]

my first try at drawing shanks! pretty happy with it :)

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom Cass progress post

(masterpost)

Far Too Young: Cassandra Wayne, Teen Mother Debutante?

Danny cringed away from the headline on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “I am so sorry,” he said miserably. Someone must have reported on that first day in the city. Why'd they sit on the story for so long? That was the only time he'd been in public with Cass. So far, he'd only left Wayne Manor with Damian and Alfred to volunteer at the animal shelter.

Cass blinked up at him, from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Don't be,” she said. “It's fine. They will always talk.” Her face twitched into condescension. “It means nothing.” 

He wrung his hands because it really did look like something. She hadn't given him the article and he wasn't quite bold enough to request to read it. But it couldn't be nice. Even the headline was judgmental. 

“It would probably be for the best if we made a statement.” Grandfather Bat said out of nowhere.

Danny startled and jumped straight up. The chair creaked unhappily when he landed back on it.

“Brucedad,” Cass complained.

He huffed and held his hands up. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to startle anyone.”

Danny hunched a little more into his hoodie. Well. Tucker’s hoodie. It was way too big for Danny, especially after the weight he'd lost. But it was weirdly comforting. He fiddled with the sleeves.

“Cass, could we talk about it in my office?” Bruce said. His tone was calm and even. Danny sort of suspected it was for his benefit. “Danny, Damian is looking for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny let his heels drop off the chair, onto the carpet. “Yeah, okay. Where's he at?” 

Danny found his 13 year old uncle out in the barn with his cow. Danny hopped the wooden gate to go inside and sneezed at the dust in the air from dried hay. 

“Danny,” Damian acknowledged. He was brushing Batcow. “I hope that you are well this morning.” 

Danny made that weird white person smile-grimace where only his lips moved. “Good morning,” he said, instead of either lying or being a bummer. “Are we going to the shelter today?” 

Damian didn't pause. “Unfortunately, I have been told that it will not fit in Pennyworth’s schedule today,” he said primly. He dragged another long, precise stroke down Batcow’s fur, exactly lining up with his last stroke. Danny eyed his sure, confident motions. “Instead, I wondered if you would join me in a project in the barn. Have you any experience with wood working?”

“Nope.” Danny drifted a little closer. “Do you?”

“No.” Damian dropped to a crouch to take care of Batcow's hooves. “It is of no importance. We can overcome.” 

“Hell yeah, Uncle D,” Danny agreed genially. Why not? He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are we making?”

“Storage shelving, for materials intended for art therapy.” Damian made one final brisk movement and rose in a smooth motion. He hung up the tools and brushed his hands off. Danny followed Damian as he started to leave.

“Art therapy?” Danny echoed curiously. “That's neat. For ….you?” He ventured. 

‘It’s for me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘This 13 year old takes his responsibility as my Uncle seriously. He'll say it's for him, but want me there, and-’

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. “It is for Jerry and Batcow. They have unresolved traumas.” He pulled the door shut behind them. “We will require lumber from the storage unit, as well as an assortment of power tools. I am disallowed from using them without the presence of someone who is taller than 5 feet, or older than 20.”

“That is awfully specific.” Danny eyed Damian suspiciously. “I'm not going to get in any trouble for this, right?” He followed even as Damian picked up the pace a little as they crossed the huge green lawn towards a shed. 

“Tt.” Damian tapped in a code at lightning speed and then hefted open the door. “No. You will be fine.” He said flatly. He stalked into the dark space. Danny followed and sneezed at the dusty interior. “Can you lift 50 pounds?” 

Danny sniggered. “Yeah, easily,” he said with confidence.

Damian hummed in the back of his throat. “Good. You shall be the beast of burden.” 

That was such a wild thing to say that Danny blinked twice while processing it. Beast of burden?!? Who said that?

“... I'm not sure I like that,” Danny teased. “Have you heard that I'm the baby?” He gestured at himself. Weedy as he was, he was still noticeably larger than Damian. 

“You should be proud,” Damian said in a dry tone. “to be such an accomplished baby. Here.” He pointed at a bundle of lumber. “I require this.” 

Danny was a burdened beast back and forth between the shed and the barn for three trips to assemble everything that Damian thought they would need. The preteen oversaw it all with perfect aplomb, dark eyes glittering as his plan started to come together. 

There was a learning curve. 

“That's why they say to measure twice and cut once, huh,” Danny observed. He pursed his lips at the board that was only about half an inch too short for their purpose. They couldn't like, glue or nail on a slight extension, could they?

“We shall throw this in the woods so that no one discovers our failure.” Damian lifted one side of the poorly cut plank and dragged it to the back of the barn into an unused stall. It dragged a line through the loose straw cushioning the floor. 

“He's so little,’ Danny thought hysterically. He could not laugh at Damian. He absolutely could not. The little guy took himself so seriously. Danny was actually shaking with the effort not to laugh or coo.

Damian seemed to have no idea. “For the moment I will store it out of sight here.” He let the plank fall to the ground from an inch or so and then shut the stall door. Danny watched with his head cocked to the side and a hand pressed over his lips to hide his grin. 

“We have two more excess planks.” Damian went back to business. 

[504py]

Candlelight and Calluses - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

A particularly unruly thunderstorm begs you to ask your knight to stay by your bedside, just for a little bit.

i see quite a bit of bodyguard leon fics so i always thought he'd fit into a knight au rather well. art by me!!

Historical inaccuracies, I'm terrible at old-timey speak LOL, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, relationship is dubious so this could be seen as platonic, romantic, or however you'd like.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It seemed like life would continue like normal after your former knight was discharged for stealing from your mother, and Leon came to replace him. He definitely feels more trained, more skilled, more refined, someone very reliable, so you can see how he was hired so quickly.

Somehow, you just can't get used to his presence, though.

You see him at very scheduled times of day. He sleeps in a room close to yours, mother said its safer to have him closer at night in case someone breaks in. If you're awake early enough, you can catch him leaving his room. You see him training in the courtyard through the window you pass by when you head to the kitchen. He always escorts you to your bedroom and says goodnight when you decide to call it a day, and stays posted near your door for a few minutes, before retreating to his own for the night.

Tonight, you ask him to stay just a little longer. Rainy days never really bothered you, but the thunder today was particularly bad. It was painfully loud and booming, each strike and roar making you flinch in the anticipation that the ceiling might cave in on you any moment and swallow you whole. You knew he was there to protect you, that's the main reason he was here, but your cheeks burned at the loss of your pride when you give him your request.

His expression, illuminated by the lantern in his hand and highlighting the sharp planes of his visage, is slightly different than usual at your query. His dark eyebrows are slightly raised, the frown on his lips not as deep as it usually is. His eyes are softer.

"Of course, my lady."

You head inside your bedroom, your sight settling on your nightwear set on your bed by one of your maids. You turn to Leon, asking that he leave while you change, but his back is already turned to you. You figure he got the hint, and you undress.

He's listening intently to the sounds of cloth shuffling, till he hears your weight dip your mattress, "Have you finished dressing, my lady?"

"Yes, I'm all done." You reply. Your voice is weaker than usual, perhaps scared that the thunderstorm will hear, and a crackling boom will respond, instead of Leon.

He turns back to you, seeming to pause for a moment, thinking of what to do. You've never seen him do that, perhaps this situation is new to him. That thought makes your face warm in shame.

"I... Shall I stay in the room, or shall I stay at my post, milady?" His voice is quieter than it usually is, too. Admittedly, it's a little hard to hear each other with how loud the rain is.

"If... If it would be alright, Sir Leon, could you stay by the side of my bed? Just until the storm subsides. I'd hate to keep you here for too long."

"It is no trouble to me, my lady, I promise."

He makes his way over to you, confidence in each step despite being so unfamiliar with such a strange, intimate request.

"...You can grab that chair by my vanity, Sir Leon, you don't have to stand."

He obliges, grabbing said chair and setting it by your bed.

He's dressed in a simple cream-colored linen blouse and trousers. You can see his neck. You breathe out a laugh realizing that this is probably the first time you've ever seen it. He wonders what you find amusing. You rarely ever see him without any armor on, maybe just a glimpse when he leaves his room in the morning, and even when he's not in full steel plating, he's usually donning chainmail.

"...Is it heavy?" You mumble, drowsily.

"What is, my lady?"

"The armor you wear. Is it heavy, Sir Leon?"

"Well... Not particularly, milady, but perhaps I've just gotten used to it. It does get hot, though."

"Mm..." You hum, "Always wanted to try it on, always wondered what it was like... I know mother and father won't let me, though." You chuckle.

Leon smiles a little, maybe the first time you've seen him do so. "Maybe I'll let you try on my helmet someday, milady."

"Really?" The drowsy smile you send him makes him feel warmer, "That'd be nice... I always thought the armor you knights wore looked so fashionable." Your eyes close.

He laughs slightly, and the sound is clearer now. Without realizing, the storm had passed, and you feel at ease. Leon waits a little longer, counting your breaths and seeing if your eyes will open again. He thinks the way your eyelashes rest against your cheeks look beautiful.

"Sir Leon?" You mumble, barely legible.

"Yes, milady?"

"Have a good night..." You add, before dozing off.

"You as well, my lady. Good night."

He waits a few minutes more, like he usually does when he escorts you to your door. He's never watched you sleep before, despite this being part of his nightly routine. He wishes a little more that thunderstorms would happen more habitually so he could do this more often.

Leon gets up, and quietly places your chair back to your vanity. He returns to take his lantern from your bedside table, and he pauses, watching you for a few beats more, before retreating to his bedroom for the night.

"...Calling me just Leon would be fine." He ends, with a whisper of your name.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[wipbigbang]

OT: An Open Letter From Mod Ragna

So I would like to take a moment to bring something up to all of you on the Discord server, and similar messages will go up on the Tumblr and Dreamwidth. So bear with me.

I have been homeless all of last round and most of this round. I only lucked into the housing I have right now because the city I now live in owns the apartment. I have arthritis, fibromyalgia and Long Covid. I live on a second floor apartment now. So, naturally, considering I am the most able bodied person in my family even with my disabilities, I am the primary caretaker of everyone: I do the cooking, I do the cleaning and as such, I have been building all the furniture we've managed to get.

Up until last night, all three of us were on mattresses on the floor. I gave up a lot of energy making three seperate beds in a non-air conditioned apartment. It was hard work. I just got my daughter's bed up this evening and I am sore. I decided I'd deal with WIPBB business in the morning and was trying to relax and escape the pain I was in.

What I got this evening was a very demanding email from a participant. Now, I will not name names and circumstances, but the tone was demanding and it immediately soured my mood to the point I am still upset nearly a half hour later. I wasn't fast enough in making a correction. Instead of sleeping, I have now updated the posting list, made the corrections that were demanded of me, and I'm about to post a link to the final drafts check-in form and then stay offline for a few days. Maybe. I'm still not sure about that last part.

We are all human. We all have a lot going on. But I've been pretty candid about what's happened with me and, for the most part, everyone is great when it takes me a few days to do something, or we need to change the schedule to accommodate a change in my home life. But I'm partially considering not running this event anymore as well. I put in a lot of time and energy doing behind the scenes work, not to mention I take on about 40 fics a round to do art for. I love this event. But right now? Any enthusiams I had for making art/fic is gone. And I don't know if/when it will come back.

So yeah. That's where it stands right now. The AO3 collection is open, and I will always make sure people get their stuff posted, but I'm going to take a break for at least a day or two, try and get my temper under control, and reevaluate if I want to spend so much time on this event next year, if I even run it next year. So I'm going to keep the claims list open a few more hours, update it when I wake up, and then I'll take a break. Until then, Mod Ragna signing off.

[from-izzy]

things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

anon! this is such a fun ask! thank you so much for this one!! 😍

i'm doing the ones i've talked to enough (dm and/or on gcs) for me to (somewhat) answer this ask (sorry if i missed you or gave you something that doesn't suit you 😭) also limiting to fifteen (15) things or else we'll probably be here all day oop---

my obsession with alphabetical order strikes once again!!

honestly this became more of an appreciation post but 🥺

@astrae4

my child, cute round glasses, colourful heart shaped balloons and parties, 'i just go with the flow', energiser, miffy, light blue jeans, photobooths, wanderlust, 'paris! it's no longer just europe now', ice skating, falling gracefully despite being sick and swamped into 'sewer water' 😭, bakeries, caffeine in the form of daily matcha, doesn't like me as much as i thought she did

@cloverdaisies

black and white (with a splash of red), dynamic hair colour changes, black sleeveless satin dress, but also oversized monochromic shirts, a glass of wine one on hand, blurred pictures, mirror selfies with flash on, eyeliner wings, but also fruity and lovely, same age but so mature, 'guys it's due today and i haven't started', 'i knew you would come back with time' (🥺), juvenile, no emojis at all, sarcasm (not) detected most of the time (i'm gullible ok 😭)

@cupidjyu

my hyunjae bestie!!, bows and croquette, pink and white, picnic with flowers, toro inoue, spring breeze, texting and chatting during school times, 'i'm bored' (talking about class), thirteen-hour time zone difference (and my body clock makes it worse), 'sunwoo is cute!', but also 'hyunjae!', but also sleep >>> anything (including hyunjae 🙄), sexy brain (please gimme those braincells), going around in circles, 'why do you do this to yourself? sleep!'

@heemingyu

honey bee, distorted purple and white aesthetic, gilmore girls, late deep night talks, love and patience, three-leaf clover (shamrocks), the grinch filter, being a huge menace to society but still lovable so it's hard to really tell her off, in reality i love her more than she loves me, but i still give her silent treatment anyways, 'naur', economics and crying, missing the bus and then blaming it on me, black cat, izz instead of izzy 🥺

@justalildumpling

chaotic sibling energy, my no.1 bitch, casual night time walks, fearless, freedom, making videos during said walks, lovesick puppy, ohmyface by silichmasha on instagram, side eyes, selfies with a slightly tilted head, sometimes cutely gaped open mouth other times closed (either way it makes me wanna squish her cheeks most of the time), 'izzy i have tea! well...not really tea! actually no it's tea!', talking late into the night (well...the morning), sunlight and blue sky seeping into her blinds, 'come get unready with me!'

@littleroaes

pastel purple, pastel pink, pastel blue, basically fairy floss, innocence and beauty, supportive and real, very shy, long white dresses, flowers all around her dancing in the wind, but is also very funny, drawing reactions, sometimes talking in all caps, sometimes talking with lower caps, all the time very cute, sitting down at the beach and watching sunsets

@mosviqu

pink and white, scarfs and gloves, long-sleeved shirts paired with short skirts, long drives with dynamic playlists changes, and would ask her friends to go and make sure they have a great time, jamming out to a playlist at 3am (but she has a healthy sleep schedule so), that one friend who knows what to do, not afraid to express herself 99% of the time, the other 1% is just the world being mean, will always be a white cat, 'izzy i'm so proud of you', words of comfort, head pats!!, artistically talented, eric sohn's soulmate

@winterchimez

soulmates (but lives in the wrong country), ireland, loving mother vibes, but also tired mother vibes, sunrise vibes but specifically orange and yellow, hard worker, faith in god, quiet art museums but also bustling concert halls, turning bitterness in life into a lesson that can never be replaced and is always thankful for the opportunity even though the period of that life was hard, mental and physical resilience through crazy back to back schedules, videocalling on the bus/train on the way home, 'so/saur', my favourite purple jacket, music and piano are forever ally's vibe tbh, 'if i missed your call, i will always call you back'

@zzoguri

crying when seeing a friend, headphones all day every day, classy look, black top with light blue jeans, vintage camera film filter, journalism (it really does suit you), 'YEAH YEAH I GET YOU!', crying about uni (same tho 😭), gaming for hours, specifically valorant, my infj bestie, acoustic guitar vibes (ykwim?), 'you're so valid though', a distinct unique accent, jacob bae's partner

[pbandjesse]

I have come home. I am very glad I did because my feet hurt so bad and I'm so tired and I just cannot get clean enough I can't. That's a coming home problem. And I am clean now and it's great.

Actually did sleep pretty well though. After I finish my post I would hang out for a little while longer and Callie would eventually come back to our room and we talked and laughed and we're just having a really good time. Her sister brought the fridge so now we have that and we were just joking around and having fun. And then we would go to sleep. It would take me a little bit of time but then my phone lost service so I was able to fall asleep very easily because I'm a monster who sleeps cradling their phone. And I woke up startled because she accidentally slammed the door but I was able to fall back asleep and it was fine. And I felt okay. My stomach hurt really bad. But I think that was mostly just stressed and anxiety. I got washed up and put the little outfit on and I felt kind of dirty but I tried my best to not be as dusty. I still failed though.

I left the cabin and walked up to the nurse's office. Decided that I did not want to join for breakfast. I had slept in really late and while I still had plenty of time before my first program it was most of the way through breakfast and I decided I'd rather just have a yogurt. So I went up to arts and crafts and I poured myself some Cheez-Its and I had half of the fancy yogurt I bought and had a little bit of soda. But really I just want to drink water right now. It's been so dry that I feel dehydrated. So I would hang out and read my book and wait for my first program.

The book is really sad and it's nonlinear storytelling so it's like you're getting memories and snapshots from this girl. And I do enjoy it but it's very different than what I was expecting. Not in a positive warrant I get away just different. I'm still enjoying it though. Even though it's very sad.

My groups today were great. No complaints. I was very stressed out because people kept telling him new things that were wrong in the schedule like I doubled people. And I was just basically like can I not be in charge of this anymore. And by the end of the day I would not be. But I could not really have that conversation for a few hours.

Instead I just focused on my group's best I could. I had some very lovely people and I think I am making myself very popular among the new staff. A lot of the boys are very sweet to me. Not shocking. And I think it's funny how often they compliment me by telling me that I don't look 33. And I'm like all right? I don't think I look much different and I did any other time. I look more what I like to refer to as refined. Then I did when I was 18. But I don't look much different than I did it 25 or 29. I was looking at pictures from a few years ago today and I was just like that's still me.

But they're all very sweet and I had a lot of boys stepping up to help me with stuff today. Carrying boxes and such. And all of my groups are just really cute. Specifically in the morning I had silver City and they were so good. And made some really cute pieces. And top bar was really nice as well. I always have funny conversations with them. Like about Taylor Swift and very long music. Like I really loved a Mars Volta song that was technically 32 minutes long. And they were like excuse me. But I couldn't remember if it had curse words in it, even if they would be in Spanish. And I didn't want to risk it.

At lunch Kelly came up to chat with me and Heather would come as well and we would talk about how well arts and crafts is going and how happy everybody was up there. How I kept getting feedback that people's groups were crazy and loud all day and then they come to arts and crafts and they're perfect and silent and they're like what is happening. And I'm just like it's the magical power of arts and crafts. It's the best and that's why I love it. I can set the kids up to do their projects and set them out on the material and I can sit to the side and help when needed but mainly work on my project and have a good time with the kids. Arts and crafts is the best.

But having Heather up there was really interesting because I got to chat with her too and talk a little bit more about things that were and were not working in the schedule and mistakes that had come up. And it came up that Ann is putting schedule that I made into an Excel sheet which is what apparently they've used for years which is fine I don't care but I don't really use Excel or Google sheets so I'm like okay that's fine. And I would send a text after she left to clarify do I still have to edit it then or should and just take over. I don't really have much time to work on the schedule and while I really enjoyed making it and I think some parts are great I knew that there was mistakes and I knew we were going to have to fix them I was just hoping that we were going to be doing that weeks ago. And then Heather was like no we still want you to do it and I was like okay. But it turns out the way that she was meaning it was like yeah you can totally still do it because she thought I was sad to lose this task. And it was just such a miscommunication of needs from everyone. And I'm really glad that we talked for realized because later in the day I would tell Elizabeth that I just could not handle it. And I'm so glad I did because I was able to hand off this project and immediately the stress that I was feeling went away like Chloe had asked me like 15 minutes before "are you okay?" and I almost burst into tears. It was very close.

But it was okay for now. I went to lunch late but wait got excellent fake chicken sandwiches. I have a little salad. A little potato salad. And I had to break the news to Geoff that you cannot have the children dress up as Native American people anymore that it's just not okay and you cannot do it. That we need to be aware of cultural competency stuff and that is not it. I understand you did that as a child here but we do not do that anymore because we are growing and changing and learning. And so I would get some articles from the ACA that does our accreditation about how we can be better about Native American stuff and not completely getting rid of it but how it can be respectful and like a chart thing that lets you kind of figure out hey are you being chill or is that wrong And I was just like this is really what we need to be aware of before we start doing things that we used to do. Like I'm not even letting him make dream catchers. Unacceptable.

So I had to be a dream killer. Apparently that's my nickname with some of the boys anyway. Because I tell them that they can or cannot do things in their lives. No you are not a Lord for buying one foot of land in Scotland. That has been proven to be fake. No you would not jump on the roof and do a backflip. No we are not doing tie dye. Dreamkiller over and over again.

I would go to arts and crafts and spend like 15 minutes reading my book and I would try to just hang out my hammock but then I was doing other stuff on my phone so I was a little distracted. But soon my group was there and it was day camp and they were so sweet. Both of my day came groups were great. So I'm a little more creative than others. But I was still really enjoying all of their ideas and work. I always have to be so careful with my examples because if somebody leaves something unusual or particularly good everyone's going to try to copy that one and not use their own brain. And that was happening a little bit with a three-dimensional car someone made. It wasn't even good. But it was a rectangle and with wheels and everyone's like oh my God I got to make that and none of them good. So not as many like stands out but the one child that made the turtle on the side of the arts building. Chef's kiss. Adorable. Ridiculously cute.

My last group of the day would be stockade. And this group was so nice. It was a lot of the boys that I knew from last year and they all want to learn how to do bracelets. And I think what particularly sold it for me was Randall, one of the new counselors. He is so nice to me and he's always like Ms Jesse Ms Jesse. Because he wants to learn things and he's so nice. And I taught him and a whole bunch of the boys had to make cardboard loom bracelets. I had some doing seven so I'm doing six but all of them cut the string too long because I had to run down to the office to sign a CPS form. (The guy doing that by the way I thought I was very funny. And then he was like wait fullwiler isn't there someone else named forward I was like oh my God that's my sister-in-law and also today is the anniversary of me getting engaged. That's so nice.) And when I came back other Jeci had tried to get the all the boys started but he forgot that with my bracelets it's one arm and with regular bracelets it's two arms and so everyone had string that was so long. So I just had them folded over and they all made double size bracelets which honestly look better anyway. They're a little bit more confusing for some people because you have to take both strings but they got it right away and like a few of them had some lumps in their pieces but overall excellent bracelets and they were all really nice to me. And that's my favorite thing.

At the end of it though I was like oh my God I'm done for the day but then I remembered that I was going to be meeting with all of SSC to figure out how we can integrate them into teaching some stuff during the summer. It turns out all of them really want to do that. So we're going to have them try to lead handicraft and camp skills. And I am just really happy with them they're so sweet wanting to do more. Like I get not wanting to sit around for multiple half hours a day. If they were adults I think they would get it a little bit also if they had their phones. But they've been playing a lot of apples to apples and a lot of Uno and they really want some more tasks. I understand. I am glad that they are interested in we are still figuring out how that's going to work but I think it's going to be great.

This is a little bit where I got upset in the office and had to ask Elizabeth like hey can someone please take this and she's like oh my God yes we just didn't want her feelings. I was like no the feelings involved just so glad to have this task no longer in my hands. So I texted all the village directors and Mirren was so sweet and was like oh my God I'm so sorry you got so upset and all this nice stuff and then Charlotte was just like okay. Nothing else. So you know still not positive that she likes me all the time but I'm trying to just accept her who she is. Even if it hurts my heart a little bit.

But I was just like left with all of this lightness from not having to do this schedule any longer. Like yeah it sucks that I couldn't make it perfect because I want to make everything perfect all the time and surprise everyone by how great I am. But it didn't worry out this time and that's okay. I just want everyone to have a good summer and now I can focus on being the best specialty stuff ever which is all I ever wanted. And also the best specialty senior staff which is a new thing that I want.

And I decided that after all of that emotional upheaval I needed to go home. I would feel a lot better if I went home. I didn't cry but it was a close thing. So I texted Celia to see if she would be willing to meet me at 5:45 rather than 7:00 to get ice cream. And she was like yeah cool. So I went down to my cabin and collected some clothes had my jewelry box and my eye cream. You know the most important things to me in the world. And then I walked up to arts and crafts and said goodbye to Callie and the kids And I went to the ice cream store.

I got there a little bit before she did and when she got there I was so happy to see her. I was being very silly and I pressed my face up against the glass of my car. And she like was mogging me from her car. And then we got out and we went and got our ice cream. I got a very classic Sunday with their two special flavors which had very silly names that I can't remember right now. But almost cake batter and one was peanut butter with chocolate pieces. There was other stuff going on but they were both very good and I got it as a classic Sunday with hot fudge and whipped cream and a cherry. It was excellent.

We would sit and chat for an hour or so and just talked about books and life and work and all the things going on and all the nice things people have said about Celia lately when I was telling him that I was hanging out with her and they're like oh she's so nice she has So many facts. And she was like oh blush blush blush.

she found it up really nicely when she was like I want to hang out with Jesse forever I want to go my friend forever. And I'm like I also want that but also I'm so tired and I want to go home. So please say goodbye after watching a child chase a bunny around the backyard of the ice cream shop. Because it clearly was a house at one point. Very cute though. Not knocking them.

And I had a super easy drive home because there was no traffic. So it was 28 minutes from the ice cream shop. And when I got home I was just so happy to be here. My parking place is a little down the street but at least it's on our block. And I got inside and I got to hold sweet pea for a while and I had to carry Ruby because she had gotten stuck in the studio again or battery died. And then I worked on cleaning the frog tank a bit and feeding them worms and making sure everyone was alive. Do have them are huge now and one is very small so I'm worried that the one isn't eating enough so I put a double portion of worms. And I cleaned out a bunch of the snails. Which I've gotten very bad but at least the water's clear. That is the one positive of the snails. And then I worked on crab cakes tank for a bit. Added some more moisture because there is no humidity and I didn't realize how important humidity was apparently for him. And I would add a bunch of new food for him I know he's not supposed to eat fruit very often but I thought maybe a blueberry as a treat just doing courage him. And he was motor and walking around and digging. But he definitely is going to need a bigger tank sooner rather than later. And the next week or so I'm hoping to get to the store to look for something that I can make into a giant tank. The problem is all the tanks at the store are fish tanks and I need something shallower and lighter. So I think I'm in might work. We will see what I can find.

I would take a nice long bath. Scrubbed everything shaved everything washed my hair. It was very nice.

And I started watching cabaret again because the only thing I can think about for some reason. I think I will try Chicago next if I can find an old version on YouTube. But the 1993 version of cabaret with Alan Cumming is excellent and it is just been stuck in my head since I watched it last week.

now I am sitting in our bedroom and James just got home from their baseball game and they are so sweaty. So I'm hoping they go clean themselves up before they join me again but I'm really excited that I do get to spend some of our engagement anniversary together. Probably just about the same as I spent with them on the day we actually got engaged which was the first day of camp 2021.

Now though I am going to say good night. And I hope you all have a wonderful evening and a beautiful Friday. Tomorrow marks the end of the first week of camp. I think we did pretty good overall. I hope you all sleep great tonight and take care of yourself. Until tomorrow

[xi218]

୨୧ goals ୨୧

Physical: working on being sober, ab workout routine, getting into bed earlier, not snacking so much, wearing the clothes you're saving for a "special occasion", trying out new looks and clothes, venturing out new styles, upgrading your basic hygiene routine, drink more water

Mental: journaling daily (or near daily..), decorating pages, keeping track of emotions both negative and positive and what triggers them. Get rid of the negative triggers and bring in more of the positive triggers.

Emotional: getting in touch with a therapist, dedicating a journal to release you emotions instead of bottling them in, interpret dreams, talking to friends when things upset me

Professional: working 1 hour more than usual, dont wake up and finish work before class

Personal: find your old hobbies (crochet), discover new ones (shirt making 👀), trying new food even if im nervous, complimenting people out loud, making an effort to hang out with friends when opportunities present themselves, limit youtube time

Finance: learn how to budget, no impulse spending, watch videos about making money with art and follow through

Important habits to have: waking up and going to bed early, using planner, having a morning and night routine but the freedom to change it/ leniency with myself if i dont stick to it

Important skills to build: how to communicate my own needs, learn what the line is between sharing and dumping (rather than choosing to bottle everything ive ever felt lol)

schedule ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

So you've picked your goals. Great. Now take a look at your schedule and figure out what things are taking up most of your time. Is it a long commute? Spending too much time scrolling on your phone? Waking up late? Going to bed late?

୨୧ time blocking / schedule:

☆ Mornings:

5-6am: exercise

6-7am: shower, get ready for class / library

7:30-8am: library for breakfast, get ready for the day

~class~

☆ Evenings:

get back from class, shower immediately, change into pajamas

eat dinner

finish homework

plan the next day, journal, go to bed

Assess how you spend your time and utilize it. Instead of scrolling on your phone during your free time, spend time with your loved ones (pets, kids, partner), instead of staying in one place while you're on a call, walk around to get steps in, there is always a way to implement your goals into your daily life.

Notice how I say fit your goals around your life. You don't want to be taking away important things like errands, jobs, school, being a parent just meet your goals- no. Use your time wisely. That's all. You can fit them.

On the larger goals like taking up a class/large skill, like dancing and painting. On fridays, you'll have dance class and on other days that you have free, you'll be painting a piece or reading your anticipated book, learning a language, trying out a new recipe, planning the next day, taking a spontaneous art class, etc!

Weekends.

Because I work a lot, I like to use weekends to really do deep work. Intensive study sessions. And because I deep work (work with no distractions) I don't need to study all day. I'm getting so much done in little time that I'll be done by the afternoon and I can go out and do errands, get all dressed up and have a nice day out in the city, or just have a relaxing day by doing chores, watching a nice movie and more!

3. Setting up a system so you can actually stick to those goals.

Keep a journal to keep track of what you did today. If you didn't reach a goal that day (and that's okay), ask yourself why? and how does it make you feel? Then take action on what you can do to reach it tomorrow.

i think post its in planner should be effective

Switching. We all know it’s best to not push yourself so hard. For example, don’t do intense exercise everyday. Walking and dancing throughout the day counts as exercise too, so by switching (depending on YOUR goals), you’ll have time for your other goals as well. Here is an example: on a rest day of no exercising, maybe that day is the night I have a ballet class. That is exercise as well. So instead of exercising in the very early hours of my day, I can use that time instead to do more studying OR have more time doing something else.

which means I can do one do the following: spend more time with my pet, read a few pages of my book, make a new recipe, etc.

Ex. 4am-5am - on a no-exercise day, i can study during that time instead. 6am-7am - more time to tackle my other goals.

Create a foundation. If you have an amazing day, felt very productive and accomplished, what's a habit that really helped? if you had an off day, figure out why and maybe your foundation can help.

★ That’s all!

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

why do I keep getting comments about capitalism on my unrelated sleep posts, as if the only reason anyone could want to go to bed at a consistent time is to get up for work the next morning?? It is very puzzling.

I mean yes horrible work schedules are very often related to bad sleeps, but not always. My work schedule is part-time and pretty sparse most of the year, but I have a really hard time keeping a consistent sleep schedule and I want to do better at it for ME. I want to wake up in the morning feeling well rested instead of at noon feeling like shit, no matter when my next work shift is. I want to get more stuff done around the house FOR ME, because I like having clean dishes and laundry, and because I have a very very long list of art projects I want to do, and I do way better at that if I've managed to fall asleep before midnight.

This dinosaur has nothing to do with my day job. I drew it last night and I have today and tomorrow off work, and I want to be well rested on those days because I'm very excited about finishing my Big Sewing Project. For ME.

tremendous_fortitude_1.png, tremendous_fortitude_2.png

[astridstorm]

We Are the Scars We Bear: A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter

For an audio version of this story, click here.

Good morning on this second Sunday of Easter, the season (not just day, but season) that lasts fifty days. 

In every church I’ve served except this one, not much is happening on the Sunday after Easter Day. It’s even called “Low Sunday” for the poor participation we typically expect. But not at St. James! We have people right now on a Breakfast Run taking food to the homeless in New York City. We have people making and delivering food for the St. Bart’s White Plains Food Bank. We have a forum scheduled after the 10:30 service. Our Bible Marathon group meets between services. Children’s Music and Arts after Church, Confirmation classes -- I can’t make you people stop! 

I spent the better part of this past week at Sloan Kettering with my daughter Naomi, so I didn’t have a lot of time to put together a sermon; I trust you’ll pardon me. But I do love this reading, which we devote time to every year on this Sunday. That’s rare. Most Scripture stories only appear every three years in our liturgical cycle; this one comes up every year.

It’s the story of the disciple we call “Doubting Thomas” for this scene, in which he isn’t present when the resurrected Lord appears to the other disciples, and so (not having seen for himself) he refuses to believe their story that Christ is risen. 

Some days later, Jesus appears again, this time with Thomas present. Jesus meets Thomas’ demands, showing him the marks of the nails in his hands and the wound in his side, and by this, Thomas’ doubt is assuaged. He believes.

Doubt is a wonderful topic, especially for the Sunday after Easter Day. It’s the church’s way of acknowledging that even our most closely held beliefs, such as Easter for Christians, are complicated, for most of us. I like what the playwright John Patrick Shanley calls the practice of doubt: a “passionate exercise.” It’s simply what we do with our most cherished beliefs. They deserve not to be taken at face value, but wrestled with. 

Usually when I preach on this, I talk about doubt, and faith; the necessity of both in a religious life. This year I’m not going to do that, even though you would think a priest with a sick child would have a lot to say about religious doubt. 

I’m drawn instead to a subtler theme in this reading, one that appears in other of the post-resurrection stories of Jesus, as well, but especially here in this reading from John’s Gospel: Jesus’ wounds. The display of them, and the very fact of them in these Easter stories. 

In this story we heard today, Thomas goes out of his way to demand to see not just Jesus, whom you’d think he’d recognize with little trouble if he appeared, but to see his wounds. He has to recognize him by his wounds. And then Jesus, when he does finally appear to Thomas, makes a display of showing them. This scene always makes me think of the Baroque artist Caravaggio’s depiction of Thomas, almost photo-realistically, grotesquely, probing his finger into the wound in Jesus’ side. That gash almost seems to be the subject of the painting more than anything or anyone else.

But have you ever stopped to wonder, why do the Gospel stories even mention Jesus’ scarred body after he’s risen from the dead? Wouldn’t you think presenting a perfect body would be more compelling? Christ could have looked a lot more like the Victor if he returned without reminding everyone he’d just been persecuted and killed. 

But no. Jesus wears these scars and wanted his disciples, and us, to see them. In Thomas’ case, even touch them.

This isn’t a simple, happy ending; it’s a complicated ending, and that’s one of the things that makes this central event in our faith so profound. Jesus doesn’t come back unblemished, perfect, bathed in a sea of forgetfulness about the pain he suffered in those last days of his life; he comes back now that much more compelling for those wounds he still carries.

We can all think of so many scars from our past that we’d just as soon erase if we could. But then think of all we’d be giving up. Each of those wounds drew you in some way deeper into somebody’s life; introduced you to some new thought or idea; maybe led you to a new place, a new relationship. We ARE the scars we bear, so much so that if we somehow could erase any of them, we’d be difficult to recognize--to others, to ourselves. 

One of the most confounding and yet memorable things someone said to me after my daughter’s diagnosis came from a fellow priest and friend of many years whose daughter also had cancer, a similar type. He had read where people with or close to cancer, when asked much later to write things in their lives they’re grateful for and things they’re not grateful for--the grateful things were to be written above a line, the other things, below--the cancer was almost always put above the line. 

Now, I don’t know what I think about that and I’m pretty sure at this point (or ever) I won’t be able to put this above a line. But I think often about what he said. Because the fact is, in our faith our wounds are more than endured; they’re paraded. They’re what draw us closer to God and each other. That’s the central story of the cross. There is no resurrection without the cross. There is no Christian story, without it. It is, the cross, definitely, above the line. Improbably so.

The Paschal candle here, which we lit for the first time at the Easter Vigil one week ago yesterday, has (as I explained then) five pins in it representing the five wounds of Christ. This will remain here throughout the fifty days of Easter, and it will remind us to honor the scars we bear. These Easter stories of Jesus’ resurrection cannot be told without them, and neither can the story of our lives. Amen.

[vampireantihero]

This Weeks' Newsletter

Good morning, y’all! I hope that you all had a fantastic weekend and, if you celebrate, a good Easter. It was a nice weekend here, so my husband and I took care of a bunch of outdoor errands and responsibilities this weekend. Sometimes the snow can linger until May in our area, so it’s nice to be able to be outside for a real spring. Before I get too far into my rambles for the week, let me post this weeks’ schedule:

Twitch Hiatus

As you can see from the schedule, Twitch streams are suspended until further notice. I’m going to be handling them on a week by week basis, but as it stands right now I’m desperately needing a little bit of downtime. There’s a few reasons for this, but it boils down to this — I do not have a lot of time right now. Between personal commitments, freelancing, and other things that I’m doing, I’m often working far more than I should be. The only down time I’ve had has been regulated to a few hours on Sundays, (to the point that we’ve been eating dinner at about 10pm on weekdays because of how busy we’ve both been) so I’m taking time for mental health reasons (I need a break). Responsibilities and commitments to other things have been ramping up as well.

Until I get my time and stress levels a little bit more under control, Twitch is going to be hit or miss for me. If you want to cancel subs, I totally understand. I will still be active with art, and potentially pop up with art streams if I feel inclined to, until I end the hiatus. Keep an eye on the weekly schedules; I’ll be updating them still and I will include whether or not I plan to pop up on them, as always.

My Little Brother

For those of you who have been following along, you know my little brother was diagnosed with cancer and had a surgery to remove the tumor at the end of January. From what I know, he’s still in a wheelchair, but he is doing well and still currently going through treatments for the type of cancer that he has. More information can be found at my mother’s gofundme, here.

Other Commitments

If y’all have been following along, then you also know my theatre troupe has come out of hiatus. We’re working hard on a new show that goes up in June, and we’ve hit the point of the year where we need to build stage props, source ones we’re not making by hand, create PR and marketing materials, and other such things.

Another thing that we have to do before our show goes up, is paint the space we’re currently renting for the show. We do our theatre in a black box, in the round, instead of pro-scenium. What this means, is that instead of being on a raised stage with all the audience on one side of the performance, our stage is in the center of a series of chairs. The room is also usually black with sparse set design. We offer small shows, with a maximum seating of around 25 people, which allows us to rent smaller spaces. The space we’re currently rehearsing in and due to perform the play in is currently painted an extremely saturated yellow, and we need to paint it black. We’ll be doing that this week, but with how big the room is, it will likely take a while!

Here are some pictures of the room:

Honestly, I can’t wait to paint this room. It’s going to be a much nicer space when we have it the color that we need. As you can see, the vinyl is taped off at the bottom already (my husband and I prepped the room on sunday, and our troupe should be starting to paint Tuesday.)

Portfolio Redesign

Lastly, I’d like to touch on the fact that I’m starting to redesign my portfolio. I haven’t done much finished work lately because of having my hands in slightly too many pots, so a lot of my work right now is outdated and/or studies I’ve done in the last few months. Some of the bigger illustrations I’ve done lately, I haven’t done to the quality of work that I know I can do. Because of that, I’m taking the last few drawings I’ve done and re-doing them. I’m also taking time to actually draw out planning stages of some of the items I’m drawing in such a way that shows my thought processes, as well as drawing certain aspects multiple times and variants of designs.

I’ll be sharing these as I finish them, and I’ll also be sharing high resolutions on Ko-Fi available to members. I also may be putting together some tutorials/walkthroughs/paint alongs with some of the things that I draw, though that is something that’s entirely dependent on whether or not I have the time to compile something with decent quality.

Closing Thoughts

So, that’s everything that’s going on this week! I’m sorry for the lack of Twitch streams this week, hopefully I can be back to it next week, but that depends on time and energy levels. I’m excited to see where my journey takes me, and I’m happy if you choose to follow along. I’m going to tack on to my usual sign off here and add — give yourself grace, and give the people around you grace. Things are hard for a lot of people right now, and the world is really crazy. So, as I always say with these things, I hope that you all take care of yourselves. Drink your water, and do what you can.

I love you all.

(Quick reminder that if you’d like to get this straight to your inbox, you can sign up for the newsletter here.)

[absentia-if]

hi hi i just wanted to come here and say that i'm extremely excited for this IF!! i was hooked from the very first time i saw the intro post and it quickly became one of my most anticipated reads. can't wait till it comes out <3

any fun facts you'd like to share about the ROs? :D

Thank you so much!!! I’m so honored to hear that 💞.

Kade/Kara:

Had been in a relationship with you since high school (the later years) but, before that, they were in a relationship with M. (A little bit more context on M’s quote in the pinned post.)

When they were first told that you were missing, and probably dead, they didn’t want to believe it. They were an absolute wreck for two months (refusing to leave the house, crying, etc). They had to be stopped from looking for you in the woods multiple times.

Has a major fear of rollercoasters because of the heights but absolutely loves going rock climbing…

Still wears their wedding ring around their neck, right next to yours as that was one of the only things they found of yours, and refuses to take it off. No matter what.

On your anniversary they visit your grave and watch your wedding video on their phone… reminiscing about happier times when they still had you by their side.

Michael/Margot:

Is a doctor within Aurora and they absolutely love their job. They work with children and have the gentlest touch (one that the MC isn’t really expecting because of how they are with you).

Goes on a run with their dog every single morning (when their schedule allows it) to allow her to stretch her legs. It’s one of the highlights of their day.

Sings along to old show tunes that play on the radio as they’re headed to work every morning. Tapping along with the beat as a bright smile pulls on their lips.

Has a semi-distant relationship with their parents/family for a variety of reasons but they’re not one to share all that much about it.

Their favorite snack is popcorn and they commonly eat it instead of having a nutritious meal (which they’re well aware is bad for them).

Blaine/Blaire:

Is a Pre-K Teacher within Aurora and has an absolute blast creating lesson plans for their students. They have a lot of the art their students have made for them framed in their house.

Is a frequent diner at the local diner within Aurora; always ordering the same thing (a cheeseburger and fries with a strawberry shake). It’s something they always used to do with you.

Used to visit your grave every Sunday in order to pay respects and tell you about their week and what they were excited for in the upcoming one— even though all they really wanted was for you to be there with them.

Loves the taste of cinnamon and gets really excited when their mother makes them cinnamon pie (a childhood favorite).

Still keeps a picture of you on their desk (both at work and at home) because they never want to forget what you look like. And it makes them think that they’re not truly alone.

Wren/Wynn:

Has a personal connection with this case which is part of the reason they want it to finally be solved.

Has an unhealthy addiction to trashy romance books that they’ll commonly read within their hotel room whenever they’re bored or the case gets too stressful.

Is an absolute terrible cook but they’re an amazing baker (scones that you’ll never be able to believe).

Is a highly decorated agent within the FBI and a highly decorated soldier from the Marines. They take honor and duty to a whole other level.

Has a cat back in DC that they absolutely adore more than anything. It’s an old little man that they’ve named Fiji (as they named him after the only bottle of water they had on them when rescuing him).

Nicholas/Natalie:

Is a complete recluse but they’re always kind to people whenever they get lost near their house. Helping them back to Aurora with Beau happily trotting by their side.

Lives out on the lake with their next neighbor over two miles away; it’s something that made them choose their house to begin with. As they didn’t want to deal with the hustle and bustle of living in town.

Is very active; taking Beau running, biking, hiking, kayaking, etc. Whatever N does you bet your ass that Beau is going to be loyally by their side for it all.

Loves to go bird watching whenever the season comes around and they also love laying out on their back deck and watching the stars; having memorized the constellations long ago.

Is very goofy whenever they get comfortable around people and is a fairly genuine person with the few people that they trust. It’s just hard for them to get there.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[rayadraws]

So october is the traditional month of doing art challenges, though there are also others throughout the years, such as fandom countdowns and such. I have partaken in quite a few, including doing month-long daily ones in october for the last 6 years in a row.

There are many reasons why challenges like these, whether long or short, can be daunting. Why they can be hard or impossible to finish. Life happens! And at the end of the day they should be fun, not a chore. You never HAVE to do them and you probably shouldn’t if they cause you stress. But having said that, if someone wants tips to make them a little more manageable, here are a few things I’ve learnt over the years that work for me:

1. Plan ahead and set defined goals. What are you trying to achieve here? Are you following a prompt list? If it’s a more open challenge, I recommend to choose 1-2 things that will be your main focus. And be realistic about it. ”I will draw 31 full colour detailed backgrounds in a month” is not realistic. But ”I will practice drawing one object I can use in a background/as part of a larger composition 31 days in a row” is something that is much more doable. So instead of drawing a fully furnished room every day, for instance, maybe you’re drawing a chair one day and a potted plant the next. Or you want to focus on learning to use an art tool and the subject isn’t important, you’re just testing out different brushes every day, etc. As another example, my personal goal during october this year is to practice drawing kisses. That’s it. Well, and they will all be digital because that’s faster/easier for me and they will all be of my OTP because that’s The Law (and I could probably draw them in my sleep, which also helps!).

2. Plan ahead part 2: okay, you’re going to draw every day for a month… when, exactly? ”Whenever I feel like it” is setting yourself up for failure. If you can, decide beforehand exactly when during the day you’re going to sit down to work on your challenge. Also, if you’re a perfectionist, consider limiting that daily time to fight burnout. Spending hours a day on a month-long challenge is not reasonable. But spending 20 minutes might be, depending on your schedule. Plan some more. What limits are you putting on yourself here? Are you going to create a drawing from scratch starting new every day? Ow, that’s rough. I usually start at least a few weeks before every challenge to look over the prompts and make at least rough sketches for every day, so I can go straight to inking/colouring the drawing every day without having to think up a new idea/composition every day. For countdowns, I might finish several/all drawings before the countdown actually starts, if possible. I also know I have the most energy in the morning so when possible I draw before heading to work. Sometimes even setting my alarm to give myself extra time if I know I’ll be home late.

3. Plan ahead part 3: Use every shortcut to save time/effort. Use references. Draw familiar things. Play with composition and angles and focus on what’s important and crop out all the rest. Sometimes a highly cropped view is the most striking, anyway. Pressed for time? Hide sections in dark shadows rather than stressing over small details. Do limited colour palettes, skip shading if you want to, etc. For instance, for me drawing chibis is faster/easier so I almost always draw them for multi-day challenges. I do black and white unless I have the time AND feel extra inspired. Last I do is usually to look at tomorrow’s prompt and make sure I have something to work with.

4. Validation is tough. Honestly, this one could be a whole post on its own. But needing outside validation to keep creating is something that is both natural and problematic. My advice would be to remind yourself that you are ideally doing this primarily for own own growth and to, if possible, find a smaller group of likeminded friends to cheer each other on, rather than relying on the nameless void of the internet. Algorithms are a bitch and vary between platforms, too. Additionally, a personal observation on my own art at least has been that I often get more feedback at the beginning of a challenge than the middle/end. Don’t lose hope.

5. Be kind to yourself. Remember, this should be fun and help you develop your skills further. If that’s not happening, you need to change some aspect of it. Imho, it should never go from ”challenging” to ”a chore”. Set yourself up for success, whatever that looks like for you.

Remember, you’re doing this for yourself.

[solarwonux]

Minghao x f!reader drabble

w.c: 2.8k

warnings: angst, slight mention of not eating, minghao be an asshole sometimes

note: I’ve had this one collecting dust in the docs so I decided to upload it today, it was meant to be part of a bigger fic but I decided to not continue though who knows it might be referenced later on in a different fic. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.xx

Also I’m changing my schedule around a little. So instead of me posting Mon, Weds, Fri, I will be posting Mon, Thurs, Fri. You can find more info on Navi

drabble game || masterlist

There were sides of Minghao  that unfortunately weren’t reserved for you, except for one. The one you hated the most and the one you wished you could stray as far away from. The side that received you with a frown and a bitter cold glare. The side that spoke to you in short sentences, a sour tone that would weave its way through his voice like vines whenever he spoke to you. It sent shivers down your spine and not the good kind. It was the side that you couldn’t break through to get to the side that was reserved for the people he loved and cared about most in the world. And you weren’t one of those people.

Maybe this was the way the universe decided to punish you. A punishment you wholeheartedly thought you didn’t deserve because you were tied at your feet with no way out. When you had been matched with Minghao  by the System it was either you marry or die. And of course, selfishly you choose to live. You knew he resented you for it, but in the year and a half that you two were officially married, you had secretly seen the warmth that oozed out of his pores. You saw the wide smile that would light up the room whenever darkness poured in. His laugh sounded like a sweet melody that you would never get tired of listening and just his presence made you feel like home.

Minghao was a gift, the purest form of art, a being so powerful you swore he would restore the peace in the world. He could resent you, hate you all he wanted, look at you with an overwhelming amount of venom in his eyes. And you’d let him, you could never let yourself regret your final decision because he deserved to live.

Sighing deeply, you pushed yourself off the elevator walls watching as the hallway to your apartment came into view. This was the part you hated most about your day. It wasn’t the part where you woke up alone, it wasn’t the part where you had to go to work and it wasn’t the hour and a half walk home. It was the short walk from the elevator to your apartment. It never failed to stretch out miles as your heart caught itself in your throat because behind that closed door you weren’t sure what you’d encounter.

Sometimes it would be a quiet Minghao , sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with his headphones on. His studio set up scattered all over, a notebook and his unlocked phone next to him. Sometimes it was him quietly sitting at the coffee table eating take out, sometimes it was him on his phone arguing with his mother as he shot piercing glares at you, probably wishing you weren’t alive. And other times it was a dark and cold apartment, nothing out of place. The silence creeping underneath the floorboards, reigning, occupying its throne in between the walls as it desperately tried to push the two of you out.

For some reason that was the apartment you always found yourself hoping for whenever you stopped in front of your door. Your hand gripping the doorknob tightly every night that it had started getting loose.

This was a routine by now. You’d put the key in the key lock, turn it until you heard it unlock. Then you’d close your eyes, slowly count ten Mississippi’s, proceed to give yourself a pep talk and then finally biting the bullet and opening the door. Anxiety rushed through you quickly when you saw what was waiting for you behind the door, Minghao  on the couch typing quickly on his phone, while the TV beamed with life in front of him. Lighting up the dark living room with undertones of blue.

“I’m home.” You spoke, a shake in your voice making you wish you were stronger. The door clicked behind you, signaling there would be no way out until tomorrow morning so you might as well bite your tongue and deal with anything you’d encounter tonight.

“Welcome, I ordered food but wasn’t sure if you wanted any.” He shrugged, locking his phone and setting it by his side. He crossed his arms in front of him and turned his attention to the TV.

“It’s fine I’m not hungry anyway.” You took off your shoes by Minghao’s worn out ones. The hunger swirled inside of you, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that you’d find something to eat once he was asleep in the guest bedroom that by now had become his room. “Mhm, you are eating right?” He said a hint of concern in the back of his throat, but that could’ve been your mind playing games on you. Though the question had caught you off guard and you weren’t sure how to answer without lying because in truth for a while now your appetite had severely gone down.

“I am, had a big lunch with one of my coworkers.” Minghao  nodded at your answer, finally turning to face you, furrowing his eyebrows. You tried to ignore his gaze, relax your body as much as you could and placed your bag down on one of the highchairs in front of the kitchen island. “My family’s coming over tomorrow, my mom wants to cook dinner…you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” He blurted out the last part, hollowing out the part of your heart that was reserved for him. You loved Minghao ’s family as much as you loved him, but unlike him they had been very welcoming of you. Embraced you with open arms and you found comfort knowing that at least a part of him loved you.

“I’ll be there.” You whispered, shrugging off your coat and placing it on the back of the chair. “I have a day off tomorrow so I can clean up around here before they come over…I mean if that’s fine with you and all, I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

“Do whatever you want.” He spat out leaning back on the couch. His tone returning to the one you were used to hearing and you knew you had overstayed your welcome in the living room. “Right, I’m going to bed then.” You nodded walking past him and straight to your room, closing the door behind you quickly and resting your back against it. You breathed out a sad sigh of relief feeling the tears build up behind your eyelids, the hunger gnawing its way through your stomach ripping it to shreds. As well as your need for some sort of comfort, as you came to your first realization of the night. Just like it washed over you every single night and for once you wished you didn’t feel so alone, when the person that was supposed to love you stood on the other side not caring.

Oddly there was a side of you that loved Minghao  and maybe it was the side that kept holding onto the hope you first felt when you were given the news. Or maybe it was the image of him that you created in your head from all the fragments of light he let out whenever he thought you weren’t looking. But you loved him, that was something you were confident in because you saw him for who he was, flaws and all when the two of you weren’t alone.

“Fuck.” You pushed yourself off your door throwing yourself on your unmade made and grabbing the turtle stuffed animal you slept with every night. It brought you a small sense of comfort and any comfort you could get you would grab and indulge in it blissfully. It was small and useless in the long run.

You buried your head into the head of the stuffed animal, finally letting the dam loose and the sobs came in full throttle. Thankfully the TV in the living room was loud enough to muffle your sounds. It wouldn’t matter if he could hear you anyway because you knew he wouldn’t be running into your room like a knight in shining armor and save you from yourself. He just didn’t care and that was the second realization you would have every night. Each time you did, it sent a jab through your body, cracking the little wall that kept the small sliver of light you held onto dearly. Each night though you felt it flicker slowly losing its innocent glow. Sometimes you’d wonder when the light would finally die out, when the numbness would finally overtake your body and you could go on with life without feeling like you were worthless. Without feeling anything.

“Can I come in?” You sat up on your bed at lightning speed. Minghao ’s soft voice sounding from the other side of your door. A knock following in between syllables. Your breathing sped up and you brought your hands up to your cheeks slapping your tears away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of him seeing you in this state. “U-Um yeah.” You spoke moving to rest against the headboard of your bed, grabbing your laptop on your bedside table and opening it to make it seem like you were doing something other than crying.

“I brought you chicken as I couldn’t finish it all.” He walked in, a styrofoam container in his left hand. His aura took over the air in your room and you felt as if you were suffocating. You watched as he slowly took in your room and your face heating up as you remembered the untidy state of your room. His eyes lingering on the wall of polaroid’s behind your even messier desk.

The girl in those pictures, the one whose smile reached her eyes and laughed still lingered in the small cracks on the walls of your room was someone that was unknown to you now. On days when you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed you looked at her as a sign of motivation. Telling yourself that that person was still within you and that she would come back you just had to fight through whatever you were going through. At the end of the day she always came back.

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” You closed your laptop and set it aside, the forgotten google tab opened waiting to be used. “I can have it for lunch tomorrow though.” You brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. To avoid his curious gaze, you looked out the window, the moonlight shining down at the skyline. You wondered if they were at peace unlike you.

“Why do you cry every night?” Minghao  blurted out. He had placed the container on your desk and sat down on the foot of your bed. His back turned to you. The question had caught you off guard as you searched through the files in your brain in order to come up with an excuse. Yet, you came out unsuccessful and decided to just finally confess to him. You had nothing left to lose. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you?” You choked out biting your lip to keep the sob that threatened to spill locked away in the back of your throat.

“You can’t love…you barely know me.” He turned to face you and for the first time in a long time you couldn’t read the emotion that was playing against his features.

“Maybe I don’t love the person I’m faced with everyday, but I do love the person I see whenever you let your guard down around your friends and family.”

“But aren’t you tired of all of this? He raised an eyebrow, lifting his palm up and signaling all around the room as if the extra gesture would help prove his point.

“Exhausted.” You breathed out your shoulders falling as you felt yourself fall apart little by little in front of him. “Then why not hate me?” Minghao  brought his legs up to your bed and crossed them underneath him. This was the longest the two of you had spoken or been in each other’s presence and although it was suffocating there was a small ring of light that lingered between the two of you.

“Because as much as I want to sometimes, I can’t bring myself to hate someone that’s hurting inside as well.”

The deafening silence that the two of you had grown accustomed to entangling itself in the warmth that was lingering above the two of you now. Somehow bringing the two of you a sense of comfort in the midst of this confusing situation you found yourselves in. Although you could feel like you could breathe again, the question that still kept you up at night stayed put in the back of your throat waiting to finally be let out into the world. For months you had pushed it back, deciding you already knew the answer to it. But as you sat in front of Minghao , his soft eyes dancing between your puffy ones you weren’t sure anymore. So, you put your preconceived notions aside as well as your pride and opened your mouth, letting the question run out to freedom. Your heart raced as you anticipated his answer.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, truthfully I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why can’t you love me back?” You whispered, shutting your eyes. Your hold on your legs getting tighter.

“Because I can’t bring myself to do so no matter how hard I want to sometimes, especially when I listen to you cry every night. I wish…I want to set everything aside and hold you. I want to make you feel less alone…but I can’t.” Minghao  let out a frustrated sign running his hands through his hair and tugging at his roots in desperation. The sight made your heart wrench. You wanted to reach over and hug him, give him the comfort you craved.

“W-Why?”

“I feel guilty.” He nodded resting his forearms against his knees, finally breaking his eye contact with you. Searching your room rapidly for another point of focus and finally settling on the humidifier on your bedside table. “I feel guilty because before I met you, I had chosen to live, not knowing that I would be the reason why your light would start to fade as the days went by.”

Without a second thought you let go of your legs, maneuvering yourself around your bed and wrapped your arms around him tightly. Finally breaking the barrier that silently lingered between the two of you.

You buried your face into his neck letting your tears run freely for the second time that night. Though this time instead of feeling the loneliness you had felt earlier, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Minghao  felt himself hesitate for a moment feeling overwhelmed as he felt your touch for the first time, not knowing he missed it. A thought he couldn’t explain because how was he missing something he had never had the pleasure of feeling. But he pushed it aside and hugged you back, letting the tears he had kept in for far too long out in the open. He wasn’t happy but he felt like he could be happy if this was what it felt like to finally have you in his arms. He held you tightly, gripping onto you and burying his nose in your hair taking in your scent, one he decided right then and there he would never grow tired of. The two of you basking in each other’s arms, your hearts racing against one another and it overwhelmed the two of you greatly.

“I know we have a lot of things to get through but I’m willing to start over if you are.” You whispered, removing your arms from his body and sitting back on your knees. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, letting out a small laugh and shook your head in disbelief before holding your hand out for him to shake.

Minghao  smiled widely, chuckling before taking your hand in his. The feeling was enough to send shivers up his spine. The good kind.

For the first time that night he had a realization. A secret that he would carry out to his grave, unless you prodded it out of him and with how things were going, he was sure that you would succeed at it too. But for now, he would keep it to himself and enjoy the way your touch felt against his skin and the way your smile was enough to have his heart beating out of time.

“I’m Minghao, your husband.”

[slothspaghettiwrites]

02. Steam

02. Steam - Sleepless in Stark Towers

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: SELF HARM (scabs/bandaids mentioned, act not depicted), pining, masturbation, shower fantasy, conflicting feelings, toxic relationship mentioned, sleepless idiot

Relationships: Tony Stark x Plus Size!Reader/OFC 

Word Count: 1278

Summary: Two weeks have gone by and you are still thinking about Tony. This morning, you think about him in the shower.

A/N: Please do not read this if bolded warning upsets you. This is the short installment of Sleepless and it’s not even PWP. There is some plot fit into this. 

<< 01. The Meeting | 03. Dinner at the Tower >>

The long, stained paintbrush clattered into the jar of dirty turpentine. My focus was shot, mind wandering back to the train tracks that were now just too familiar. It had been two weeks of this. I’d try my best to throw myself into my school work, enjoying the two art classes I was taking and managing just fine in my gen ed class, but my lizard brain would hop on the perv express the first chance it could. It wasn’t helping that Nathan wasn’t speaking to me, upset with me because I wasn’t comfortable sexting him and seeking his revenge by posting drunk stories of him making out with another girl over the weekend because he had needs that I wasn’t fulling. 

So what if instead of writing that stupid Civ paper during my two-hour break between classes I had searched for pictures of Tony Stark online? So what if I had a crush on not only a very successful older man but also the best Avenger? So what if I had spent too much time in the shower recently with my fingers between my legs?

I grimaced and checked the digital clock behind my easel. It was nearly five o’clock in the morning. I took off my glasses and scrubbed my face, probably smearing paint across it and getting a bit high off the fumes. It wasn’t right to be thinking about him that way. He probably had some supermodel girlfriend. He was Peter’s fucking mentor! That alone should have made it a No Go Zone. Let’s not even mention that fucked up boyfriend situation. If I could even call him that. 

Station cleaned up, supplies tucked into my cubby hole, and my things tossed into my backpack, I ventured back into the world. But not before I took a progress picture of my latest painting. Another sleepless night and another canvas I’ll probably paint over if I ever sleep again, I wrote on the Instagram post. 

I continued to scroll through my feed, liking and commenting on a post from that really amazing charcoal artist Peter had recommended I follow. They were always posting these amazing views and portraits. Whoever they were, they drew some of the best life models I’d ever seen. Or they were traced from a picture. Who knew? It was the internet. 

My key slid clunkily into the lock, despite my caution to not wake my roommates. They were temperamental at the best of times and my sleep schedule, or lack of one, did not vibe well with them. Tiptoeing around, careful to avoid their tripping hazards, I changed into my PJs and grabbed my shower caddy. This early in the morning was the perfect time to use the stalls. No college student was sensibly awake this early. It allowed me the freedom to relax and release some tension, while also getting a steady stream of hot water. 

A deep groan of the old pipes and a few moments of waiting (read thinking about Tony) later, I was able to enclose myself in the steam. Glasses were set on the solitary, limescale covered soap tray and my bag and towel hung just outside the plastic curtain. The water was a bit too hot. My skin tingled and flushed under the weak stream of water, but the aches in my body from standing for too many hours eased quickly. I washed and conditioned my hair, tugging out tangles and trying not to think about the amount of hair coming loose from my scalp.

Calming floral scents from my body wash clung to the steam in the shower cubicle. I lathered up the soap and began to run the soft terrycloth material over my heated skin. Splotches of oil paints and charcoal stains were smeared and scrubbed away from my arms. The suds popped across my chest as quickly as they formed. Even though my washrag was soft against my arms and shoulders, it made my sensitive nipples pebble as I washed down my body. I wondered once again if Tony’s hands were soft and gentle or rough and strong.  

That was how it always started, with his hands. Hands that I had seen in person one time. Hands that had moved with swift, controlled accuracy across a glowing keyboard. Hands that I was certain could play me like a fiddle. 

A quiet hiss escaped my lips as I leaned against the cold enamel cinder block tiles and spread my legs as far apart as I could stand. My imagination took over from there, eyes falling closed as thoughts of Tony touching me, caressing my heated, wet skin, cascaded behind my eyelids. This morning, his hands were rough and squeezed me without mercy. A hard pinch to my nipple until there were tears in my eyes, punishing me for something I wasn’t quite sure of. My washcloth was dropped on the floor as my fingers danced across the delicate rolls and stretch marks that marred my stomach to the aching sex between my thick thighs. Slick wetness that I knew wasn’t the soft water of the shower coated my folds. My fingers painted my arousal up and around my clit. 

I set a furious pace, chasing my own orgasm. My breath hitched and a whimper escaped my lips when the combination of flicking a nipple and pressing my fingers just right sent a jolt to my belly and into my shaking thighs. I wanted Tony to see me like this, to see just what he did to me. I wanted his hands to wander around my soft moldable body while his mouth bit and sucked marks along my neck, shoulders, and chest. 

He gave off big dick energy in more ways than one. He would tease me, slide his heavy, hard cock between my dripping folds. His tip would catch on my entrance, but he’d leave me empty until I was begging to be filled. And Lord would I beg for it. A gasped ‘Daddy’ passed my lips when my climax overtook me. Thigh trembling and stomach muscles cramped as my pussy clenched around nothing again. I lingered in the blissed-out, steamy shower for only a few moments. I wouldn’t allow myself to hold too tightly to that feeling. The little blossom of hope my brain tried to create in my post-orgasm haze would only lead to guilt and shame.  

On my limp legs, I squatted to pick up my discarded rag, relishing momentarily in the stretch it produced around my low back. I rinsed it out thoroughly and made a note to do laundry later. It was Tuesday, so I didn’t have class until the evening. I could sleep for a few hours, then get back to work. Before stepping out of the shower, I peeled off the two bandaids on my leg and examined the crisscross of razor-thin cuts. They were still there, wet and a bit scabby. That was fine, it was fine, things were better now. I turned the shower off finally and parted the curtain, releasing the steam from my safe confines. 

When I was back in my room, tucked behind the makeshift sheet curtain I had created to have some privacy in this room, I pulled out my phone to look at the messages Peter sent me last Monday. Sure, I would never be good enough for Tony Stark, and my shitty boyfriend was the best I was ever going to be able to get, but I could look at the sneaky pictures of Tony and Happy eating the ‘thank you’ cookies I had baked them at Aunt May’s and feel just a tinge of hope once more. 

[jewishjon]

His Father’s Son

A/N: I am so excited to finally be able to put the first chapter of this fic for the 2021 Grishaverse Big Bang (@grishaversebigbang) fic out into the world. Thank you so much to my incredible artists whose art you will find linked below and my amazing beta reader. You can find me on tumblr here or twitter @/vespabuddy and I will be updating on ao3 every Tuesday and Saturday until the 25th of September. Enjoy!

Beta Reader: @z-the-zebra

Artists: @hivertoautumn @wellwatersurprise @jsperfhey @lucentcorrigan (I’ll link their art soon, I’m making this post before it’s uploaded)

Summary: At fifteen, Wylan meets Jesper at a formal University event, falls for him, and never sees him again. Four years later, his father orders him to take down a criminal gang called the Dregs.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33741277/chapters/83866909

Read the first chapter below the cut!

The morning of the grand opening of Ketterdam University’s Van Eck wing, Wylan’s father threatened his life.

The day began like any other. He woke to the clattering of carriages in the street below, the delicious smell of the servants preparing breakfast, and felt a sinking in his stomach at the thought of the dreaded event scheduled to take place that evening. He got out of bed and was helped into a tailored black suit by his valet. When he reached the dining room, his father was long gone, likely having been in his study since the early hours of the morning, and he was forced to endure the company of his father’s new girlfriend as he ate.

“Are you excited about the party?” asked Alys, a stupid smile plastered on her face as she watched Wylan. She was so young she could easily be Wylan’s sister.

“Really excited.” murmured Wylan dryly into his eggs. He was already stressed from the thought of enduring the rest of the day. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Alys.

Unfortunately, instead of leaving him alone, her upper lip began to wobble. “Do you not like me, Wylan? What did I do wrong? You know, I try so—” Alys gulped, “So hard to be a good mother to you.”

A mother? Wylan had known Alys for three weeks, and already felt he had years of maturity on her, and he was only fifteen himself. 

Still, he felt a wave of guilt. Alys was trying her best, having been raised to believe her only worth in life was to marry a wealthy man, and his father was as wealthy as they came. Wylan may be set for a successful career as a mercher, but he knew well what it was like to be unable to fulfill the simplest task expected of him.

That was the thing about Alys. No matter how idiotic she was, she was always trying her best. So, Wylan caught her eye and mumbled a simple;

“I’m sorry.”

He fought back bile as she reached her hand across the table and squeezed his until he began to feel woozy. She wasn’t squeezing too hard, and Wylan was sure she had no intentions of anything but kindness, but the feel of her too-smooth skin against his was inexplicably as painful as any blow dealt by his father’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Wylan, honey. I love you despite all your imperfections!” Alys smiled sweetly. “All your imperfections.”

Somehow, that didn’t make Wylan feel any better.

As he was heading back to his room, hoping to use his free time to practice his flute or scream into his pillow about the pains of existence, he was stopped by his father’s assistant. Mieke was a middle-aged man with as little personality as he had hair on his balding head.

“Come to your father’s office. He wishes to talk to you immediately.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Fear festered in Wylan’s stomach as he followed the man down the long corridors of the Van Eck mansion. Surely he would have been told already if there were any changes to his role in the party that evening. Furthermore, he had no memory of having done anything wrong since he’d last seen Jan Van Eck, although his father always managed to find something. 

Even the thought of the beating he’d received last time was enough to nearly make him turn and run as fast as his legs would take him.

Mieke opened the gilded wooden door leading to Jan Van Eck’s office, and, ever so slowly, Wylan entered. His father’s study had always been a source of intimidation, and not just because of the man who inhabited it. The walls were decorated with certificates celebrating his father’s many achievements, a massive painting of himself in his youth hanging above the table, stacks of paper in neat piles throughout the room. They all lead to the man sitting at the desk, looking at Wylan with a scowl on his face. There was no beating stick in view, but Wylan had learnt to never underestimate the power of his father’s fists.

His father made a gesture beckoning Wylan to come forward, and he approached the desk until he put up a hand signaling for him to stop. Wylan stayed silent, having been trained long ago to never speak to his father unless spoken to.

“Wylan.” said his father. “I’m glad you came.”

Wylan nodded in acknowledgement. They both knew well that he had no choice in the matter.

“You know, when I woke up this morning, I thought ‘Maybe I should kill Wylan today.’” 

Kill. Kill Wylan. 

Kill Wylan.

It took a few seconds for his father’s words to unscramble in Wylan’s head. The world became unfocused as the simple sentence’s weight hit him.

“‘End his suffering once and for all. It’s not like he has anything to live for.’”

Wylan let out a choked, strangled noise. His father’s next words flew past him without registering. He had to be joking… right? His father couldn’t have wanted to kill him. This was all some cruel new trick to manipulate him. Another one of his father’s endless strategies to bend him to his will. He told himself over and over that it wasn’t true. Even the continuous stream of his Father’s words failed to break his trance. Yet, as he replayed it in his head in the hope of finding any kind of meaning behind the threat, something about the tone of his father’s voice, or the knowledge of how he had treated him for all these years, told Wylan that his words weren't empty.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. I didn’t do it, of course, or you wouldn’t be standing here right now.” He sighed. “You must have considered that now I have Alys, I soon won’t have need for my insolent, defective son.”

Wylan blinked, and realised tears had been slowly streaming down his cheeks. 

All he’d ever wanted was to be enough for his father. He’d thought that despite all the beatings, all the insults, every time he was locked in his room until he could read a single sentence of a children’s book, his father still loved him. A tiny part of him, the part that had kissed his mother and read to him as a child and tucked him into bed, still cared.

“I’m sorry.” whispered Wylan. His voice shook as he spoke, barely loud enough to be heard above the clatter of his thoughts. “I tried, Father. I tried so hard.”

His father scoffed. “I should have known you’d react this way. You’ve always been too emotional, Wylan. You may as well leave now, make yourself respectable before this evening. Just take this as an incentive. Be better tonight and all nights afterwards, or I will go ahead with that threat.”

When he reached his room, Wylan punched his drawer over and over until his knuckles were cracked and blood stained the wood. He didn’t feel a thing.

***

The ballroom of Ketterdam University had been filled with professors, wealthy students, and the entirety of Ketterdam’s elite to celebrate the opening of the new university wing that Jan Van Eck had so ‘generously’ funded. His painting had been hung prominently in the ballroom, illuminated by the numerous glass chandeliers, and his name engraved on a large plaque outside the new building. Wylan could tell that he was loving every single second of it.

Under normal circumstances, Wylan hated parties. The bright lights, the hordes of people talking over one another and his father’s constant grip on his arm were usually enough to drive him to hiding in a closet by the end of the night. 

After this morning, he just wanted to get it over with.

He knew he should be terrified. If his behaviour at this event didn’t please his father, it could lead to his demise. The constant threat of death hanging over his head would scare anyone else into unquestioning submission. But, inexplicably to even Wylan himself, he felt so numb. Since his meeting with his father, he’d been drifting unthinkingly through the day, the usual fear blocked out by an overwhelming, horrifying lack of feeling. A sadness that stole away every drop of hope he had left, that told him to give up, that whispered that he had never mattered to anyone anyway. He had no choice left but to believe it.

So, Wylan could barely find it in himself to care about his potential upcoming death. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything but the hatred in his father’s eyes as he stated his intention to end Wylan’s life. 

Even now, his father looked so remorseless. So cold. As Wylan followed him through the university campus, he couldn’t see a single drop of emotion on his face. He’d always believed it was a result of being a mercher for so long that he’d become a master at faking indifference. He was beginning to suspect that perhaps his father truly didn’t feel anything.

When the Dean noticed Wylan and his father being let in by a guard at the doorway, he rushed over to greet them. Wylan’s father gripped his arm far too tightly in a clear warning.

“Welcome, Mr Van Eck and…?”

Wylan’s father’s expression briefly soured. “His name is Wylan.”

“Welcome to our university, Mr Van Eck and Wylan Van Eck. Everyone here is incredibly grateful for your donation, and we hope this event will show even a small part of our thanks.”

His father smiled, an action that made Wylan’s stomach automatically churn. “Thank you. I’m very glad to be able to help the next generation of merchers that are being taught here.”

The Dean gestured to the guard and he threw open the doors, making the party guests immediately stop talking and turn to stare at the new arrivals. Wylan’s eye was caught by a dark-skinned Zemini boy, deep in conversation with a professor. He looked as if he was Wylan’s age, maybe slightly older - far too young to be attending such a prestigious university. After a few seconds, he gave the drink to the professor, seeming to end his conversation temporarily, and left the room in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Please welcome Mr Van Eck of the Merchant Council, and his son Wylan! Mr Van Eck is the reason we can be here tonight, as his extremely generous donation enabled us to build our new wing. Of course, it was only fitting to name it the Van Eck wing in his honour. We hope you and your son enjoy the party.”

The crowd clapped politely, a few merchers rolling their eyes at the praise directed towards Jan Van Eck. Once people had turned back to their prior conversations, he and Wylan entered the overcrowded ballroom. Wylan tried to head for the food table in hope of a temporary respite from the noise, but his father grabbed his arm again and steered him in the direction of a group of merchers.

“This is my son, Wylan. One day he will replace me in the Merchant Council… if he plays his cards right.” The merchers laughed as if Wylan’s father had told the funniest joke they’d ever heard. “Go on, Wylan. Say something.”

His chest tightened. In all the time he’d had to prepare for this event, he’d forgotten to decide what to say if his father forced him to make conversation with other merchers.

“I… Uh… Hi. I’m- I’m Wylan.”

Wylan’s cheeks blushed a bright shade of pink at the ensuing chuckles, and he tried to avert his gaze from the clearly amused merchers. His father put his hand on his arm in seeming reassurance and, almost imperceptibly, pinched the skin on the side of his arm until he had to stop himself from crying out in pain. There would be a large purple bruise by tomorrow. 

Stumbling over his words in public was a rookie mistake. He should have known better, but parties always put him on edge. The social cues he’d practiced over and over in the mirror had been completely snatched from him.

At least he felt something again. His head was beginning to spin, his breath coming short, a growing sick feeling in his stomach. The noise of the people scattered around the room became increasingly louder until Wylan winced in pain. When he did so, the previously beautiful chandeliers became blinding pillars of lights, and people began to talk more and more, as if they were laughing in his face.

“Have you decided whether to invest in the new stock coming in from Ravka this month?”

“Can you comment on the instability of the Ravkan economy?”

“How long do you think it will be before you tie the knot with your new girlfriend?”

“What are your thoughts on the growing economic power of that gang from the Barrel - the Dregs?”

Everything was so loud.

Stop. Stop. Please. Stop. There was so much noise. Too many people talking at once. It was so loud. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please could they stop they needed to-

“Stop!” yelled Wylan.

Every mercher in the group turned to stare at him. A look of fury flashed on his father’s face before he forced himself to smile, his eyes still twitching in concealed rage.

“I’m afraid my son has been feeling… not very well recently. I’m sure he just needs some time alone.”

Before his father had time to grab him, Wylan ran. He pushed through the crowds of people, his vision blurring, until he reached the corridor that led to the bathrooms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father take a deep breath and turn back to the other merchers. He was far more concerned about maintaining his public image than helping his son. 

Wylan leant against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Whilst he was glad to be away from the party, the new environment had done nothing to quench the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

The bathroom door opened just as Wylan was about to enter, and it hit him square in the face. His head spun, and he was still trying to process what had happened when a figure came running out of the bathroom and slammed into Wylan. He jumped back as fast as possible, rubbing his injured nose, and gaped. 

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who slammed a door in your face! I should be sorry!”

Wylan looked up and began to splutter, unable to bring himself to say anything. The person he’d bumped into was the Zemini student from earlier, the boy who’d looked far too young to attend the university. From closer up, Wylan could see deep calluses on his hands - it came to Wylan suddenly that Novyi Zem’s primary source of income was jurda farming - and piercing grey eyes that were staring at him with concern. He was extremely, impossibly handsome. 

“Are you okay? Because I’d never complain about a pretty boy staring at me, but it’s not usually after I’ve hit him in the face with a door.”

“You… you think I’m pretty?”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s the part we should be focusing on, Pretty Boy.”

In-between the embarrassment he felt at the compliment, Wylan realised he may be correct. It definitely wasn’t a good sign that the boy’s figure was swimming in front of him, or that his head was still relentlessly pounding. Whilst he wasn’t sure how much of that could be attributed to the door and how much to his ongoing panic attack, it would probably be best if he at least sat down. 

“I- I’m not usually like this.” Wylan swayed a little. “You should come back and talk to me when I’m not dying… Oh wait…” He giggled. “I’ll be dead tomorrow anyway…”

“Okay, we’re definitely going to sit you down.”

The boy gently put an arm around Wylan’s back and helped him onto the corridor floor. They sat beside each other, slumped against the wall, in silence.

“I’m Jesper. I’m a student here. I didn’t want to go to this party anyway, but my professor made me come. Apparently I’m one of the ‘top students’ and they need me to ‘represent the university’ as their ‘youngest and most promising student’. I think there could be much better uses of my time than attending a party for some rich jerk.”

Usually, Wylan would have defended his father, but today, something in him was enjoying hearing him be insulted. Besides, he had a feeling that Jesper didn’t know his true identity, and if he did, he probably wouldn’t want to sit beside him anymore.

“I’m Wylan.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Jesper shoved three fingers in Wylan’s face, and he pushed them away, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not an answer!”

“You had three fingers up. I’m not concussed, you know.”

Jesper was silent for a while, until he noticed Wylan’s still-wet eyes.

“You do look like you’re about to cry, though. I’d like to think I can help with that too.”

It was nice of Jesper to try, but nothing he could do would prevent the inevitable punishment Wylan would face when he left this corridor. He needed to head back. The sooner he returned, the lesser his father’s wrath would be. He glanced back at the party - the loud voices, the crowds of people, his father engaging calmly in conversation as if nothing had happened - and found himself beginning to hyperventilate again. 

He was going to die. His father hated him and he was going to die and Wylan would be dead and no one would mourn him because everyone hated him anyway and it would all be pointless in the end and—

Wylan felt soft arms wrap around his chest, holding him tightly. Someone was hugging him. Jesper. The pressure was just right, the other boy’s hands resting against his ribcage, and Wylan let himself lean into him. He buried his head in the crook of Jesper’s neck, letting the tears that had been building up for so long fall. Perhaps it was because Wylan hadn’t hugged anyone since his mother died, perhaps it was because he was the first person in months who’d treated Wylan like a fellow human, but Jesper felt like home.

When Wylan’s breathing returned to normal, he let himself pull away, but Jesper didn’t take his hands from their grounding position on his waist. 

“Wylan, do you want to get out of here?”

“What do you mean?”

Jesper smirked. “You’ll see.”