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cherimoyatea · 2 months ago

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❧ Rafayel - Eternal Bond

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: You meet Rafayel in another life. But again, you have no memory of him. Word Count: 1.447K Tags: different timeline/alternative universe, christmas season, romance, a little angst and hopelessness, rafayel is a stranger to you, tears with comfort in the second half Side notes: It's December, yay!❄️ Swear, I almost lost my sanity editing this fic over the past three nights! Every time I thought I was ready to post it, I'd find something else I wanted to add or change, and felt like I was starting from scratch all over again. Please, don't expect a cozy Christmas story. My life's been going too smoothly lately, and I need a little angst in my life.

December.

Somewhere, sometime, on this vast planet.

There is an unwritten story no one knows about. Another life you lived long before you met the mesmerizing Lemurian in Linkon City, you know today. You still don't remember your past lives, the never-ending cycle of birth and rebirth—and the pain and loss it brought, pulling you away from your beloved over and over again.

You always hear someone calling out to you. A voice echoing deep within, while a name you don't recall, lingers on your tongue, aching to be spoken aloud...

It's the reason your previous relationships fell apart: You always felt like the red strings of fate kept drawing you away from their lives, making it impossible to find love.

After another failed date, you're on your way home, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you shiver in the biting cold. The city is abuzz, with everyone enjoying the colorful Christmas decorations and cozy atmosphere of the festive season. Suddenly, a sweet melody coming from the display of a jewelry shop, catches your attention as you almost walk by the decorated shop window.

You stop in your tracks and walk closer to the jewelry shop to admire the creative, Christmas-themed display, showcasing engagement rings and wedding bands. Maybe love isn't written in your story. Maybe you're one of those unfortunate souls who are never meant to find their soulmate. It's times like these when bitter thoughts cross your mind, and you can't help but feel a little hopeless about your future.

You let out a deep sigh, your heart as heavy as the clouds above you, as you lay a hand on the cool glass of the store window. A faint smile forms on your lips as you watch the little Christmas figurines dance in the display, twirling pirouettes and moving their tiny limbs to a familiar, festive jingle.

''That's the wrong ring, cutie...''

You snap back from your thoughts when you suddenly hear someone's voice and turn your head toward a young man. His eyes are glued to the same display as he stands there, keeping his distance from you—his hands leisurely tucked into the pockets of an expensive-looking coat, with a thick scarf draped around his neck. Is he talking to you? Taken aback by his words, you glance around to see if there's anyone else he could be referring to.

But there is no one else here except for you and him.

''Uhm... sorry, what did you just say?'' You ask, a bit confused, subconsciously removing your hand from the window and brushing over your ring finger, feeling the metal under your fingertips. The ring doesn't serve any particular purpose; you wear it simply because you think it's pretty.

He nods slightly towards the figurines in the display you were just looking at, his hands still in his pockets.

''I said, 'That's a nice thing, truly...''

The young man replies, shifting his head toward you with a smirk, and you immediately notice his extraordinarily beautiful eyes—eyes that remind you of the setting sun, just when the evening greets the night and paints the sky in shades of pink, purple, and blue.

''O-Oh... yeah, right.'' You reply awkwardly, quickly turning your gaze back to the store window.

Strange. You could have sworn you heard something else just now, but it was getting late, so maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

Pretending to watch the dancing figurines, you shift your gaze back to him, and a warm feeling rushes through your chest as you secretly admire the attractive lavender-haired man. He doesn't seem to notice that you're stealing glances at him while he's busy watching the christmas display.

''Say something! Anything, you idiot!'' You scold yourself internally.

Something is urging you to approach him, a peculiar force pulling you toward him, not wanting him to leave just yet. Shifting on your feet, you let your eyes wander over him, searching for something to start a conversation with when you notice the sketchbook tucked under his arm.

''Are these... do you paint?''

The young man follows your gaze and nods with a smug grin, holding up the sketchbook and opening it. ''Yeah, you could say I like painting...'' He holds the sketchbook toward you so you can get a better look at his art and your eyes widen surprised when you notice a striking resemblance to the little figurines displayed in the shop window. ''But aren't these the same as...?'' You mumble and blink twice, your eyes going back and forth between the sketches and the figurines.

These are undoubtedly the same designs.

Seeing your confused expression, the young man chuckles with an amused glint, shimmering in his eyes. ''You're the observant one, aren't you? The shop owner is a friend of mine. I designed this year's Christmas display for him.'' He explains, a hint of pride in his voice as he hands you the sketch, his bright eyes lingering a little too long on your stunned face.

Taking the piece of paper from him, you're about to express your excitement when you overhear an elderly couple, walking past both of you. ''Ah, look, dear! They're probably choosing wedding bands! How adorable!''

Your face turns bright red, and you quickly turn around, flustered. They obviously mistook you for a couple. ''N-No, that's… we're not...'' You stammer, trying to explain, but the couple simply nods at you with a warm smile and continues on their way, leaving you speechless.

Still flustered, you turn back to the artist, only to realize that he's gone. Huh? Wasn't he just standing next to you? Confused, you step away from the jewelry shop and look around frantically, catching a glimpse of him disappearing into a crowd of people.

''Wait! Your sketch!'' You shout after him, but it's too late: the sunset-eyed man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

Disappointed, you glance down at the piece of paper in your hands, realizing you didn't even ask for his name. Even if you tried to call out to him, what name would you use?

Your eyes trace over the sketch and as you instinctively flip the paper over, your heart almost skips a beat; On the other side, is a draft of a girl who looks just like you! ''What... but how...'' You wonder, your mind racing as you take in the details and your gaze falls on the signature, right there on the bottom of the paper.

''Rafayel...''

You whisper softly, and the instant the name leaves your lips, a warm tear rolls down your cheek, followed by another wave of warmth flooding your heart. You don't know why you're crying, why your heart feels like it has finally found its missing piece, its home.

Why it feels like your soul just remembered something you shouldn't have forgotten in the first place.

A cold flake melts on your warm cheek, and you look up, realizing it started to snow...

Your eyes fly open, and you quickly sit upright in bed, your cheeks damp with tears, your chest heaving.

A dream? A dream!

The soft rustling of the sheets draws your attention as your beloved stirs beside you, his beautiful eyes opening and concern etched on his sleepy face as he props himself up on his elbow.

''Hmm… what's wrong, cutie?'' He mumbles, still half-asleep. ''Did you have a nightmare?''

Wiping away your tears with the back of your hands, you nod, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your chest. Why does your heart feel so heavy all of a sudden? ''I was so lonely because I didn't remember you.'' Trying to steady your quickened heartbeat you inhale deeply before continuing.

''We were gazing at a Christmas display, and you handed me a sketch... then you disappeared.''

Rafayel falls silent for a moment, watching you intently as you tell him about your dream. The lavender-haired man reaches out to you, humming softly as he wraps his arms around your body and gently lays you back into the sheets. ''Close your eyes and go back to sleep... it's alright, I'm here.'' He whispers, caressing your back to soothe you and pressing a tender kiss on top of your head.

His mind drifts back to that one day in December, when he met his beloved in another life—hopeless and alone. He remembers how he had accidentally forgotten the sketch in your hands, a thoughtful act to initiate another meeting. And then more meetings after that, just to stay in your life and help you remember.

No matter how many times you forget your eternal bond, he will always find a way back to you.

It's his silent vow to you.

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

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Those Christmas lights keep shining on [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1.2k|| AN: I wrote this in like an hour because I needed some Christmas fluff because I am officially on break from work for 2 weeks!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Hotch feeling like a bad parent, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Supportive reader, Actual tooth-rotting Fluff

Sypnosis: In the midst of the hectic BAU schedules during the Christmas season, Aaron Hotchner decides to break away from late-night work to surprise you with an impromptu drive through a mesmerizing display of holiday lights.

Aaron Hotchner leaned back in his chair, the dim glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the paperwork strewn before him. It was late, the office nearly empty, the quiet whirr of the BAU at rest a stark contrast to the usual buzz of activity.

Through the glass of his office, he watched you, his gaze softening. The way your brow furrowed in concentration over the files, the occasional tuck of a stray hair behind your ear—it never failed to draw his admiration.

Christmas was just around the corner, a fact barely noticeable amidst their chaotic schedules. Every year, the festive season seemed to sneak up on him, leaving him scrambling at the last minute for Jack’s gifts, a task he felt increasingly inadequate at as time slipped through his fingers. This year felt particularly overwhelming; he had barely started his shopping, consumed by a nagging sense of falling short.

But tonight, he decided, would be different. Tonight, he'd focus on what he could control—the small, yet significant moments he knew would bring you joy.

Setting aside the case files, Hotch stood up, his decision firm. The paperwork could wait. He straightened his tie and jacket, took a deep breath to shed the day’s weight, and walked out of his office directly toward you.

You looked up at Hotch as he approached, a question in your eyes, perhaps expecting another late-night briefing or a new development in the case.

“Get your coat,” he instructed, a gentle but unyielding tone in his voice as he slipped his own wool jack on over his arms.

You paused, your expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What’s going on? It’s only seven.”

“Just this once, follow directions without a debrief,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The rare, playful note in his voice prompted a small, intrigued smile from you as you grabbed your coat and followed him to the car.

The drive started silently, the usual route home unfolding before you. But instead of turning towards your shared apartment, Hotch took a detour, the car winding through streets unfamiliar in the night’s embrace. You watched the passing scenery, the glow of street lamps flickering through the window.

Finally, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity. “Aaron, where are we going?”

He glanced at you, his eyes steady on the road. “Trust me?”

“Always,” you responded the simplicity of your answer a comfort to him.

Soon, the urban sprawl gave way to rows of houses adorned with Christmas lights, each home a canvas of vibrant colors and twinkling designs. Hotch pulled over, and the world outside transformed into a magical display. He reached forward, turning the dial on the radio up. The sound of Christmas carols echoed softly through the SUV while reds, greens, and golds danced across the snow-dusted lawns, reflecting in your wide, delighted eyes.

“This is us just…driving around, looking at Christmas lights—it’s small, I know. But I wanted to do something, anything, that feels like we’re not just passing through the season without acknowledging it,” Hotch confessed, watching your face light up with every new display. “And I wanted to make sure, despite everything, I’m doing something right.”

You turned to him, your hand finding his across the console. “You’re doing more than you know, Aaron. These moments--they mean everything.”

You sat there for a while, the soft sounds of holiday music from the car radio mingling with distant laughter from nearby houses. The worries of unshopped gifts and the relentless tick of the clock faded into the background, replaced by the warmth shared in the car.

It was these small gestures, Hotch realized, that stitched the fabric of their memories together, weaving a tapestry richer and more enduring than any perfectly planned holiday could offer. And as you leaned against him, the chaos of the world outside melted away, leaving nothing but the simple joy of the season—and each other.

Hotch drove slowly, the car creeping along the snow-lined streets as each house competed with the next in a dazzling display of festive lights. Occasionally, he glanced over to see you leaning closer to the window, your breath fogging the glass as you took in the spectacle. The joy evident in your features, illuminated by the soft glow of multicolored lights, filled him with a quiet satisfaction that had become rare in his line of work.

“Look at that one!” you exclaimed, pointing to a particularly elaborate setup featuring a life-size sleigh and reindeer. “It’s like they’re gearing up for a North Pole takeover.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound mingling with the soft Christmas tunes playing in the background. This was making him feel years younger.

“They’d give Santa a run for his money,” he agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. It was these fleeting moments, he realized, where the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lighten—a gift in its own right.

Turning the car into another brightly lit street, Hotch took a moment to observe your profile against the backdrop of shimmering lights. The way your eyes sparkled with each new discovery, how your cheeks had flushed from the cold when you’d first stepped outside, and the way your hair, loosened from its usual style, cascaded in gentle waves around your shoulders, framing your face in a soft, almost ethereal halo.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said, his voice low and reflective. “I’ve been so caught up with... everything. It’s easy to forget what time of year it is.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “We all get caught up, Aaron. But it’s these moments that bring us back. You’re not failing Jack—or me. You’re here, with me, now. And that’s more than enough.”

His hand reached for yours, fingers intertwining naturally. The warmth of your touch was grounding, a tangible reminder of what he often lost in the shuffle of case files and criminal profiles.

As the night deepened and the snow began to fall in gentle flurries, Hotch pulled over near a particularly impressive display. “Come on,” he said, a spontaneous decision lighting up his tone as he opened his door. “Let’s take a closer look.”

You followed suit, stepping out into the crisp night air. The snowflakes caught in your hair, sparkling under the streetlights. Hotch couldn’t help but think you looked like a part of the festive scene itself, radiant and joyful.

Together, you walked along the sidewalk, your breath visible in the chilly air, laughter mingling with the soft jingle of Christmas music from nearby speakers. Hotch felt a sense of peace settle over him, the kind that had been elusive in recent times. He looked down at you, his heart swelling with an affection that was both deep and enduring.

“This is perfect, Aaron,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before a house decked out in twinkling icicle lights.

“It is,” he agreed, not just about the scene before them but the entire evening. “And so are you, in every way that matters.”

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

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@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

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@person-005

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #reader insert #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #kiwriteswords

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barbies1shots · 4 months ago

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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 WEEK2: REINER BRUAN !<3

kinks! HEATS/CARSEX - A/B/O AU !

its so late into the night that only those with poor sleep schedules and those with early starts into their morning would be up. but he just had poor little you practically bouncing on his dick. Reiner Braun is a truck driver, someone who drives large shipments of cargo all over the country. highway to highway, large pay to large pay, cute girls pressed into his thighs at each stop.

it gets tiring, of course, driving state to state, but what makes it better than a pretty little passenger princess? someone who is down to ride all the time, someone who wants you all the time? someone who couldn't even fathom a thought other than to be smothered with his scent?

Reiner couldnt even think properly as he drove. his nose twitching with each and every little sound that escaped your plump lips. his mind practically dizzy with each breath as he took in your intoxicating scent. the scent of your heat, it was that time of the year again. when omega's yearn for their mate and only their mate. he wanted to pull over right now yet he couldnt so he made you wait. he had no obligations so you took the initiative to stretch and prep yourself so all he had to do was slid right in.

your sick, wet, sounds made his mouth water. your whines made his hands sweat with slight nervousness as he turned into a rest spot and turned off the semi-truck.

"Please, Reiner, please please, I need you!"

he clumbered into the cabin, his shoulders knocking things over while he leaned over the part where you laid, a whole other compartment. the compartment is just a thick mattress coupled with plenty of blankets, plushes, and pillows. your whining caught his attention again once your hands raised to pull him down, your head tucked into his neck. he comforted you with a coo and your frantic actions by sliding a rough hand down your bare back, drawing shudders and shivers from you. his fingers probbed at your cunt, quickly burying them inside you. you whined into his neck, begging him to hurry and fill you yet he just hushed you, telling you to be quiet and let him take control.

his fingers began their work, sliding so deep, curling them straight into your g-spot before bringing them out... just to hear the squelch before doing it all again.

dragging his fingers out before pressing so deep, deeper than your fingers could ever reach. playing with your g-spot just had you crying into his neck. circling his fingers around your little nub had a drawn out whine escaping your lips. heats made omegas so submissive and compliant, so sensitive and whiny that just within a few strokes of his thick fingers had you gushing around him.

he sucked his teeth in a small form of apperiation before he set a smack into your slobbering cunt. the action bringing a squeal from you. you looked confused before he set a series of little slaps and rubs along your slit, bringing you closer and closer to yet another high.

when he was done, your thighs trembled with little overstimulation and he undid his jeans before sliding them down and under a heavy pair of jewels. he tapped his tip on your cunt, getting little jumps from you and impaitent whines. you were laying on your side and he raised one thigh to rest on his shoulders while your other thigh was trapped between his legs.

he was so well endowed that he was almost scary, his head so blunt with an addicting dark red color and a musky scent just had your head spinning and going dumb. he tapped your clit again before he began to push his hips in. his tip getting caught on your hole, exciting squeaks from your lips before he successfully breached your hole.

"Lets see how well you take me..."

he drawled as he slid home. going slow, because if he went fast youd go dumb too quick. your hands scrambled for purchase, grabbing onto anything to stable yourself. your hands found his button up shirt, tugging and pulling on it as you choked on your breath. you swore it felt like he touched your throat with each little rut to gives you.

he continued, your eyes rolling back before his tip pressed into your gummy cervix is where you cried out, your hands now pushing him away because it hurt too good.

Reiner sighed because it was like this each and every time you fucked. he entered you, you freaked out and wanted to get away and he dragged your back, pinned you down and fucked you to tears.

now, he smacked your hands away before pinning both wrists above your head and entered the rest of the way with a low grunt. his own eyes rolling back. a squeak got his attention and he looked down at your fucked out expression. your eyes dazed in a simple headspace while your lips opened and drool pooled out. a moment or two passed before you were up and begging him to fuck you with vigar. he tugged on your wagging tail, pulling a sensitive sob from your bitten lips, and with an amused huff he pulled on it again.

his mean hips coming back before he rutted them back into you. your whimpers and cries practically falling on deaf ears as he chased his own release. it took so long, his stamina so high that you came just 2 more times before he spilled his load into you.

breeding you and riding out your climax with a grind of his hips. he groaned as you clenched around him, he threw back his head and dragged your hips toward him so you guys stayed connected and he sat back on his haunches. your thighs shaking on either side of him.

a moment of rest passes before he reeled his hips back again and fucked his cum back into you. your back arched with a wail from the overstimulating sensations. he fucked you so good and so hard, by the next round you couldnt speak. too warm and fuzzy with the aftershocks of the pleasure. just too dumb.

@aizawasbarb

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aphrostiel · 9 months ago

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It's My Time

I'm back with another portrait of Jesus, one I quite liked a lot and was challenging to do, as I don't draw people from that angle.

A little of backstory for this one: you might get reminded of a photo when you look at this drawing, and that is because I was inspired by this photograph https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMTcxMTQyMTIwNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzg5NzkyOA@@.V1.jpg which was taken for Jesus Of Nazareth TV-series of 1977. I always liked this show a lot and I think that Robert Powell's portrayal was beautiful.

So for this I wanted to draw my own interpretation of Jesus doing that same pose, adding some original aspects like the stars halo, who is replacing the crown of thorns; also adding a red tunic, I love that color on him. I felt like this was during His last days on earth, the inevitable betrayal and death coming soon, so He's looking up, perhaps calling to his Father, or thinking, or anything you want it to be, that's free to interpretation. I hope you like it ♥

#jesus christ #bible #christianity #christ #jesus of nazareth #the bible #bible art #christian art

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ladykailitha · 3 months ago

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The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 10

Hey guys! We're back for another adventure at the Hellfire!

We have a lot happening in this one: Wayne is all doom and gloom, Steve and Eddie make it hot, Jeff is long suffering, and a hugely jealous Eddie with Gareth to talk him down. And that guy at the end? Don't worry about him, it's only a cameo and nothing more. I promise!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“Boy,” Wayne said solemnly, “I’m starting to think either Robin or Steve or even both are cursed.”

Chrissy called Eddie that morning to say that she had twisted her ankle and had to take the weekend off. She would be able to get back to work on Wednesday, but Saturday, Sunday, and Monday was out. Her day off was on Tuesday and she willing to come in then to make up for it, but Eddie waved her off and told her get better.

“Should I call off the Tempting of Eve dance all together?” he asked ignoring the cursed comment.

Wayne sighed. “As much as I think that boy is bad luck, calling it off wouldn’t help anyone.”

“I mean the club isn’t hard up for cash right, now,” Eddie hedged. “So the harm wouldn’t be lasting.”

Wayne just shrugged. “I’m not here to advise you, Ed. Just here to hold your hand while you make all the decisions.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie huffed, drawing his hands over his face with a groan. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of Steve if the dance goes on tonight.”

Wayne laughed. “Son, that is rather the point of the dance is it not, having your hands all over Steve?”

“Yeah, but I had Chrissy before to reel me in.”

Breaking the dance down from three to two wasn’t that hard, not with Scott and Steve helping get the choreography down. In fact Eddie was a little pissed how well they worked together. Him and Steve, not Steve and Scott.

Scott was straight with a wife and three kids. Nothing to be jealous of there. Nope. Not at all.

Steve was graceful and smooth where Eddie rough and tumble. Their styles matched each other’s. And fuck, with the new costumes that were color change under water, from white to red?

Steve was fucking Sin, capital S and all. Not just envy but fucking all of them. Pride in his ability to dance, Lust in his ability to make you feel every move, Greed as he soaked up the attention, Sloth because of how easy it came to him, Gluttony in how made Eddie want to devour him, and Envy for anyone who watched them, wishing they were Eddie, dancing with Steve.

Then the climax of the dance hit and “Samael” died in Lucifer’s arms to become Satan. His wings torn, his costume blood red, his body pressed to Eddie’s. Their erections only mere pieces of on thin material between them.

Eddie was on fire.

And judging from the half-lidded eyes and panting breath, Steve was too.

The crowd went wild. The money showered them like rain. Steve as Satan left the stage to let Eddie continue his show. Steve quickly changed out of the wet clothes so that he could hurry back out to watch Eddie preform with his guitar. All the while his heart was racing. It had never felt like this before with Chrissy.

Eddie played his heart out, putting as much attention into his strip as possible, to block out the thoughts of Steve’s warm body pressed to his own.

When the last article of clothing dropped and Eddie hung up his guitar he was still hard a rock and horny as hell.

He got on the pole, dancing the rest of his set grinding against the cold metal.

Finally the last note fell away and he looked up at the audience. The whole room had fallen silent in the rush of the sheer eroticism that rolled of Eddie in waves. Then they were on their feet, cheering and stomping their feet in excitement.

Eddie laughed out loud, taking his bow as the backup dancers picked up the money from the stage and carried it backstage.

When they were divvying up the tips for the night it was clear that both his solo dance and his duet with Steve was a massive hit.

Steve took his earnings with a soft and maybe a little shy smile and Eddie beamed back.

“That was fun, Stevie,” Eddie said with a grin. “We’ll have to talk to Chrissy and see what she thinks about changing up the dance to where she leaves after falling and it’s just me and you finishing the dance.”

Steve blushed a dark red. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Remind me to send flowers to Chrissy’s hook up,” Eddie teased with a grin, “for leaving her boots out where Chrissy could trip on them.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Wait? Is that what happened? Oh my God, that’s fucking hilarious!”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, leaning back in his chair smugly, “I am never letting her live it down. Ever.”

“I hear that,” Steve huffed a laugh. “If Robin had done something like that the teasing would never stop.”

He hovered at the door a moment before he wished Eddie good night.

Once Steve was out of sight, Eddie buried his head in hands. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that before there was a knock on his door. He lifted his head.

“Hey, man,” Jeff said with a shake of his head. “I thought I told you to knock it off with that burning the candles at both ends bullshit.”

Eddie raised his head and huffed out a laugh. “The whole fucking house is on fire at this point, man.”

Jeff slipped into the room and sat down on the sofa. He patted the spot next to him and Eddie went willingly.

“If you’re talking about that dance between Lucifer and Samael,” Jeff said dryly, “I’d fucking agree with you. You two looked like you were the only two people in the world and everyone liked that.”

Eddie threw his head back. “God, I want to cross that line. And there really is no reason not to. Steve has shown time and time again he is one hundred percent a part of the club, willing to do anything for it, its crew, and its owner.”

“So what is stopping you?” Jeff asked, putting his arm on the back of the sofa and massaging the back of Eddie’s skull.

“Steve and Robin are going through some pretty heavy shit right now,” Eddie murmured, “and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. But I have no idea when it will be resolved and my own resolve is crumbling with each dance he dances.”

“Come on, put your head up here,” Jeff said softly, “and I’ll give that big head of yours a proper massage.”

Eddie dutifully put his head on Jeff’s lap, letting his best friend work out the knots in his head.

“So at least tell him how you feel,” Jeff murmured. “Tell him you’re willing to wait until the trouble blows over, but that you really like him.”

Eddie tilted his back to look him in the eye. “Nah, I think I’ll pine for the rest of my days.”

Jeff gave his hair a good tug. “I’ll give you until the end of the month to tell him or I will.”

Eddie huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, and knowing you, you’ll do it during our dance with a big fucking sign all in glitter from the back of the club.”

Jeff grinned down at his friend. “Don’t forget the two billion heart stickers.”

“Oh of course,” Eddie huffed sarcastically, “can’t forget the stickers.” He twisted his head to look at him. “Just where would you even get that many stickers?”

“My sticker dealer,” Jeff said smugly. “I have a four year old niece.”

Eddie nodded solemnly; there was no one in the world who loved stickers as much as a four year old.

“You’re with the dancers more than I am,” he said softly, “what do they think of Steve? Like honestly? I know he ruffled feathers when he first started, but it’s been awhile and just because I haven’t heard anything...”

“Doesn’t mean there’s no fire to the smoke?” Jeff asked. Eddie nodded. “A lot of them respect the hell out of him, but there are some that are jealous as hell, that he’s so fucking talented. Hell, Brian is one of them. But I think Bri’s is more that Steve can do everything he can but he’s still... well, not thin. Not exactly.”

“Should I talk to him about it?” Eddie asked. “Bri’s a good friend and I don’t want him feeling like I’ve abandoned him just because a nice piece of ass showed interest, you know?”

“Taking him out to lunch and just being his friend would be a hell of a good place to start,” Jeff agreed. “Gareth likes Steve because you like him but they aren’t friends or anything. Scott and Steve are like actual friends. I think Steve was invited to his oldest kid’s birthday party last weekend.”

Eddie chuckled. As jealous as he was of how easy they got a long, he was actually happy that Steve and Scott were friends. “Better him than me, man. I tend to weird parents out.”

“That’s because you exude heavy metal badass,” Jeff said with a grin. “Kids love that shit, but parents...” he waved his outstretched hand back and forth, “not so much.”

Eddie sat up. “Why do I always feel better after I’ve talked to you? Are you like a witch or some shit?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. I’ve got magic all right, the magic of friendship.”

Eddie smacked him and Jeff chuckled.

“Seriously though,” Jeff huffed. “You bottle up all your feelings and problems and when I finally pry them out of you, you end up feeling better for it.” He got to his feet and pulled Eddie to his. “Come on, man. Let’s get you some fresh air. This place doesn’t even have fucking windows.”

Eddie chuckled, following his friend out the door and into the cool night air.

There was one thing Eddie didn’t normally allow and that was lap dances. Particularly lap dances in a private room. One they didn’t have private rooms, most because the place wasn’t built in a way to accommodate them and two, they welcomed assault in ways Eddie wanted to avoid.

If they did want a lap dance it was men only and only the principle dancers. Backup dancers were off limits. Again, it was trouble Eddie didn’t want to go courting. Especially from what he’d seen in other strip and erotic clubs.

But the person in question was a rather a big deal and was paying a lot of money for privilege. Like proper ‘fuck you’ money. But Eddie made sure to write up a contract for the guy. That this was a one off deal; that he couldn’t buy the dancer in question, that they weren’t property; that no matter how much money the guy had Eddie could not be bought either.

The man smirked a little and wagged his eyebrows, but signed on the dotted line. “There you go. I admire your dedication to your morals, your dancers, and your business. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy coming here.”

As much as it pained him, the dancer the gentleman wanted was Steve. He put Chrissy on wandering hands patrol and went to go have a smoke. This time it was Gareth that found him.

“You know a lap dance isn’t any different than a full strip, right?” Gareth huffed. He took the cigarette from him and pulled a long drag before letting the smoke drift out of the side of his mouth. “He doesn’t care about that guy anymore than he cares about any of the regulars.”

Eddie took the cigarette back and flicked off the ash before taking another drag. He spun the butt to get the remaining ash out of it and then crushed it under his heel. “I do know that. But I also know that ‘regulars’ can turn into ‘regular creeps’ at the drop of a hat. You remember what happened to Bakir last year. Cops had to be called.”

Gareth pulled out his own cigarettes and lit another one, handing it to Eddie. “I do remember, but you got Mr. Fancy Pants to sign a fucking contract. You’ll live.”

Eddie took a short puff on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a huff. They passed the cigarette back and forth for awhile.

“So what’s really got you worried about this guy?” Gareth said as he finished the last of the smoke. “And don’t tell me it’s just about Steve. I can see your wheels turning.”

“That if he wanted to buy the club,” Eddie said bitterly, “I’d let him do it in a heartbeat. Just stick to shaking my ass until he drives all the good ones away and I quit too. This place is eating me alive and I’m ready to give up.”

Gareth ground the butt under his foot. “Well that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say and I was there when you said you want to fuck your guitar for your Pride set. Do I have to mention how even unstrung it would mutilate your dick?”

Eddie snorted. “It would have been hot. But like only the once, which is why I agreed not to.” He leaned his head back against the brick. “It just seems like a fucking tornado of trouble just touched down and I have to sit back and watch as my livelihood goes up in smoke with it.”

“It be nice to place the blame on someone,” Gareth agreed. “Billy. Stella. Levi. Steve.” Eddie glared at him, but he forged ahead. “But life doesn’t work that way. It’s never just one person’s fault or fuck up. It’s just life, man. So get your head out of your ass and do something.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I can do this.”

Just then Chrissy came out back to tell them that Steve was done and getting changed and the gentleman was long gone. It was just the two cleaning crews awaiting the go ahead to start.

Eddie nodded and went inside to do just that.

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975 @garden-of-gay

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dance club au

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twomiddlefingersforthehaters · 1 month ago

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Masashi Kishimoto Naruto Art Book (part-6)

This is a piece where I was able to really show Naruto's personality in his pose and expression. I'm super pleased that I managed to draw something truly Narutoesque. The tension in the arrangement of Kakashi and Obito is also great. It isn't often that the entire composition works this well, so it's my favorite.

It was fun drawing all of them as kids. I really like the contrast of adult Obito and child Obito facing different directions, indicating that his path and focus changed.

I like this one a lot, because you can really feel Nine Tails' immense size and Naruto's mischievousness. I had fun drawing it because of the visual gimmick. I had forgotten that if you look closely, you can see Kakashi, Sakura and Sai.

Enough people told me this was good that I started thinking so myself... Yeah. (LOL) But it was nice to illustrate a scene of family life, particularly because I didn't have many opportunities to draw something like that.

I thought that Naruto was still too young to wear banana hammocks, so I ended up with this. When I actually tried to draw it, it creeped me out. Making Sakura wear a bikini was kind of embarrassing, so I opted for the shorts for her too.

I drew this picture of Naruto, Kakashi and Sakura lined up to show how much each of them have grown

This picture of Sasuke appeared as part of a composition for a Shonen Jump front cover alongside images of Naruto and Gaara. Due to space considerations, I ended up drawing Sasuke in a long, vertical pose. One problem here was whether or not the sword Sasuke's holding would fit in the scabbard--- I remember I had to carefully measure the length of both the sword and the scabbard. Also, the picture appeared somewhat plain alter coloring it, so I made Sasuke's sash red. Because of that detail, this may be a pretty rare picture of Sasuke.

Cherry blossoms in full bloom...it's springtime in Kanohagakure. My concept for this picture was the characters having a cherry blossom viewing party, so I gave them some objects to suggest that. Naruto has a drinking cup, Sasuke has a Japanese musical instrument, and Sakura has a bento box containing rice dumplings and other foods. Fun, lots of fun. Kakashi was...actually kind of a distraction in this one. But I felt bad for him and decided to leave him in (laugh). And I showed that there's a breeze by drawing the cherry blossom petals as if they are being blown. It feels good when I can make the wind blow in a picture.

I wanted to keep this picture looking like a pencil sketch. I lightly colored in the already fully shaded pencil drawing, I tested out a method of using two similar colors for each character's hair, skin and clothes, and another similar-toned pair of colors for the background. I tried to make the picture look three-dimensional by changing the level of contrast in these colors. I made one large mistake though I forgot to draw Ino's earrings (laugh).

Team Asuma was the main focus in this volume. It makes Naruto look like a side character...

#from the drafts #masashi kishimoto #illustration #naruto manga #my stuff

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thepaintedsable · 8 months ago

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PYRO! It’s Pyro! Yippee e!

I accidentally inverted the colors all of the insignias and gave Blue Pyro Red Pyro’s flamethrower :( My professional explanation for the second part is that Blue Pyro beat the living shit out of Red Pyro and stole their weapon, my professional explanation for the first part is I am is have are stupid.

Close-ups and special sketch page below the cut!!!

I remembered TF2 existed and this happened.

I have to mention that I have never touched this game, but I’ve been fairly aware of it for a really long time. I strayed away from it all because I was not/am not the best at multiplayer games, especially shooters (especially team shooters), and I never exactly felt like I had the skill to draw any of the characters. Plus the comic’s whole “missing the last issue” situation. I just really, really, didn’t want to be let down by investing myself in something I couldn’t be invested in. But something about “Meet the Pyro” stuck in my head like a burr to a shoe.

Rewatched Meet the Pyro more times than I should have. Looked into more animations and the fandom. Finally broke down and read the comic LMFAO. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed it! Even with the missing part, the format it’s presented in and the general wackiness was refreshing compared to what I normally read.

I still like Pyro, and when I remembered I’m better at drawing now, augh. There he go. They are all over, as they should be.

MF has a homemade flamethrower, canonically killed great value brand Smokey the Bear (on purpose), is/was the highly successful CEO of an engineering company, and is so efficient on the battlefield his teammates are horrified by him and his methods. Also there is no telling wether they even know what they are doing or where they actually are because of the pyro vision stuff. Plus the fun mystery of who they are under the mask. :) We don’t even know nothin about this guy.

Just a silly little guy. I’d like to take both the “They know nothing about what they are doing” and the “They know everything about what they are doing” and staple them to Blue and Red respectively. Which is which, though? Not important. Only need enough info to pit two bad bitches against each other, and also to consider how their teams treat them in response. They are both fucked up, but in opposite directions.

ALSO WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND OUT THIS FANDOM HAS THE CUTEST SHIP NAMES EVER ON MY OWN????? I don’t even really like ships in general, but like… Texas Toast? Speeding Bullet? Brush Fire??? Can someone please please confirm that French Toast is another one oh my god???? I don’t even care about the ships, I care about wordplay and cleverness. If you look up Texas Toast on this site it is all Engineer x Pyro and that is SO FUNNY

I can’t promise that this will be the last Pyro page. He might be the one that’ll actually stay.

#sketchbook 29 #traditional art #art #sketchbook #gouache #watercolor #mixed media #colored pencil #alcohol markers #pyro #tf2 pyro #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #team fortress fanart #fanart

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kinardsevan · 5 months ago

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as we all know, i haven't really been doing @bucktommypositivityweek because I've been busy working on other stuff. but I still wanted to contribute, and I was feeling inspired reading people's additions for 'outsider perspective'. this was also a character study for one of my OCs.

so have this: -

colors

Wilder Gray was born to be an artist. Color was quite literally in his name. He was also gay fresh out of the womb, and god bless the fact that his parents had accepted that from day one, because otherwise he never would’ve stood a chance.

Life had been easy for him, mostly. He came from enough money that his parents sent him to semi-private school for he better part of his upbringing. When they’d discovered his ability to draw and paint towards the end of elementary school, he’d been promptly enrolled in the Los Angeles Academy of Arts and Enterprise for intermediate school. Growing up in that kind of environment had fed his need to create as well as be surrounded by other creatives. It also fostered a very accepting community where he never felt out of place or like he couldn’t be exactly who he was. By the time he was in his twenties, enrolled in UCLA, he’d had several serious relationships.

He met one Thomas Kinard at the age of twenty-five, fresh out of his graduate program with an MFA in interdisciplinary arts. Tommy was just about to turn thirty-three and had looked extremely uncomfortable in his skin as he sat down at a gay bar in WeHo. It would be weeks before Tommy would admit to him that he was freshly out of the closet, and that up until a few months before, the most he’d ever engaged with the community was through one night stands and the boy he had shared a secret relationship with during his five and a half years in the military.

To be clear, Tommy had rocked Wilder’s universe on its axis. When they first met, Wilder wanted nothing to do with a relationship with him. he knew Tommy was still figuring out his footing with his sexuality now that he was out, and as much as Wilder was willing to be a friend through that process, he didn’t want to play the part of the boyfriend who helped Tommy experiment and get educated.

Which isn’t to say it panned out the greatest for him. He watched Tommy engage in multiple relationships over the next three years, and he was jealous as fuck every single time. He hated Mike, the forty-five-year-old man that Tommy met a few weeks after Wilder had met him. That relationship lasted four months. Mike was a domineering dick who did a damn good job at pretending to be sunshine. Wilder wondered if Tommy realized he didn’t have to date twice-divorced men in order to figure out what he liked, but it also wasn’t his place to speak. At least, until he and Tommy met up on a random Tuesday, three and a half months into the relationship, and Tommy tried to lie to him about bruises on his wrists. Wilder was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He’d told Tommy that night that he was capable of doing so much better, that he deserved better. When Tommy had questioned him—over half a dozen beers—Wilder had kissed him about it.

Granted, that didn’t lead anywhere, other than far enough for Tommy to be confident enough to end the relationship with Mike. They were both single for a few months after that, but whatever Tommy was waiting on, Wilder wasn’t sure. He was still firm on his position about not wanting to be the person to help Tommy gain experience.

After Mike came Leo. Leo came with a million and a half red flags. Leo came with love bombs and grand gestures, with one thing on his mind. As soon as he got Tommy into bed, he was gone. Tommy never really talked about how everything with Leo panned out, but Wilder suspected that it wouldn’t have gone much further anyway. Another night over too many beers, all Tommy would say about Leo was that he was ‘rough. Way too rough.’

Either way, he bounced back. Ezra came along only a few weeks after Leo, and Ezra was so, so sweet. And so naïve. He was younger than Wilder, and clearly still trying to figure things out about himself. However, Ezra also seemed to have stars in his eyes about how things were going to work out, while Tommy had lost most of his rosy view on his sexuality. It wasn’t to say that they didn’t have fun together. But Wilder could tell that Ezra thought Tommy would settle down with him, while Tommy just wanted to work out the kinks he’d gone through in recent months and figure himself out more.

Ezra lasted two months.

Charlie showed up in the middle of October, almost as though he’d been swept through along with the Santa Ana winds. He put a smile on Tommy’s face that Wilder was positive he’d never seen on his friend. Charlie was the boy from Iraq. He was also Tommy’s first real love. Wilder liked Charlie.

Wilder didn’t love Charlie.

It wasn’t that Charlie was a bad guy. Charlie clearly cared about Tommy a fair amount, although it was questionable whether he actually liked Tommy as much as Tommy loved him. The deeper problem was that Tommy looked at Charlie the way Ezra had looked at Tommy. Except, Charlie had done the ‘make my parents happy’ way. He had been married, was now divorced, and still half-living in the closet. Wilder had warned Tommy against doing that with him, warned him that it would only lead to him getting hurt, but Tommy swore to him that Charlie had promised. Promised one day soon they would be out together. Promised they’d get to tell people the truth. Promised the kids would know him as more than just Charlie’s army buddy.

Those promises went on for a year before Tommy smashed what was left of his rose-colored glasses. Wilder was there with the alcohol and the metaphorical stitches to piece Tommy back together.

The thing was, by that time, he’d promised himself that he and Tommy were better as friends. That they’d built something strong enough to withstand the passing glances and the hugs that lasted a minute too long, the pauses when they pullled away where he could feel Tommy’s breath on his lips and it stirred something inside him that he hadn’t felt since he was sixteen and dating Danny Coston, sneaking kisses behind the fieldhouse while they were skipping out on PE.

He’d loved Tommy too much by then. As his friend.

As more than his friend.

And then one night, over beers and a pizza, Tommy was telling him this story about a rescue that Wilder still thinks was absolutely fucking stupid, rocking a helicopter between cliffsides to rescue a group of teenagers who thought rock climbing without gear in Griffith Park sounded like a fun idea. By some miracle, everyone had been saved, Tommy hadn’t crashed the helicopter, and it had made the news. What’s more, Wilder had been the first person Tommy had wanted to tell him about his suicidal save.

Wilder had to kiss him about it, of course. That shattered whatever falsehoods Wilder was letting himself live in at that point in relation to their relationship. Tommy wasn’t experimenting anymore, and he didn’t need an education. He was out, he wasn’t interested in keeping secrets, and he wanted something real.

. . .

The first year was amazing. Granted, WIlder never fell in love with the danger of Tommy’s job, but that was fine. He was in love with everything else about Tommy. He loved his personality, his face, his body, his hopes, his dreams, his willingness to be Wilder’s model on any occasion…he just loved Tommy.

Year two wasn’t as easy. They were settled, talking about living together but not quite pulling the trigger. Wilder’s career was doing really well. He’d taken part in four exhibitions in less than a calendar year and there was a lot of attention coming his way. There were offers coming out of Chicago and New York for residencies and some teaching opportunities.

There was a bad fire at a compound. Tommy got second-degree burns and had pretty bad smoke inhalation. Wilder hoped that after that, maybe he’d rethink his career.

Things got worse.

Still, somehow they found their way through. As they came upon their second anniversary, it felt like they were reaching the other side. There were still offers on the table for Wilder, and he had floated a few of them to Tommy. In return, Tommy had fully supported the suggestion for a three-month residency in Chicago. He would remain in L.A. during Wilder’s time away, but it was good for Wilder, and as Tommy had said to him at the time, ‘what’s good for you is good for us’.

Except, the offers didn’t stop at Chicago. He was weeks away from finishing his residency when he was offered the opportunity to take part in an exhibition in Texas. What was supposed to be a two week trip there turned into four months, and their anniversary came and went with little more than phone calls and the occasional flight out for a twenty-four or forty-eight hours together.

After Texas was Savannah, Georgia. Then Charlotte, North Carolina. Then a month-long trip to Florida with a few guest lectures at FSU. Eight months into what should’ve been the third year of their relationship, Wilder hadn’t seen Tommy more than fifteen days total. And the thing was, the love was still there.

But they weren’t in love anymore, and he knew they both felt it. Tommy loved his job just as much as Wilder loved his. Neither of them were going to give up their careers, and they weren’t going to ask the other to, either.

It ended on a facetime call, just a few weeks before their anniversary. There were tears shed, although it was more a sadness at the loss of what they’d hoped they could be than it was at the actual relationship. There were ‘I love you’s. And then there was silence.

. . .

The first time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, he’s barely been back in Los Angeles for a week. He’s set to start a residency for the summer and then take on a teaching position at UCLA in the fall. He’s supposed to be meeting some friends for dinner when the blonde man bumps into him at the bar, stammering out an apology with full hands as they turn to face each other.

Evan looks at him with a weird expression that Wilder doesn’t fully understand at the time. He dismisses the bump as equally his own fault and then turns his attention back toward the bar.

“Hi, baby. Sorry, I’m late.”

That voice feels like someone just poured a shot of Jack Tennessee Honey down Wilder’s throat. All the heat with none of the burn. As he turns back around, he spots a familiar head of brown curls just as the blonde tilts up toward him, and then Tommy is kissing the other man. Wilder inhales a sharp breath.

The thing is, it’s been more than a year. It’s been even longer since he and Tommy were something real. But something about seeing him kiss another man still stirs something in Wilder’s chest.

Still, he decides it’s not his place. Not here, and not tonight. He steps away from the bar and moves down some ten feet, around the corner of it and in between a few people.

. . .

“So were you going to call me?”

It’s been three days. WIlder is standing in the middle of an aisle at Blick, trying to decide between Golden and WIndsor Newton acrylics when he looks up. Tommy has a basket in his hand, half-full with small canvases and a fair amount of Liquitex.

“Hey, T,” he greets cordially. Tommy smiles at him and then steps forward, offering him a side hug. Wilder accepts it, tucking his chin over Tommy’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“I had to call your mom,” Tommy states when they part.

“I was gonna call at some point,” WIlder states a bit sheepishly.

“You always go with Windsor,” Tommy comments, as though he can hear the argument in Wilder’s head. “Forget Golden.”

Wilder chuckles. “Sure.” He’s quiet for a moment, reaches out for a tube of Windsor Newton. As he stares at the unbleached titanium shade in his hand, he contemplates. He tilts his head after a moment, glances over at Tommy. “So. The new guy.”

There’s a glint of something in Tommy’s eye that Wilder hasn’t seen in at least five years. Something he saw once, after their first drunken kiss.

“His name is Evan,” Tommy replies. He lets out a soft sgh. “He thought I was introducing you two. Had a hell of a time explaining to him that I didn’t even know you were back.”

Wilder nods. That familiar twinge of jealousy throbs in his chest, under his heart.

“You sticking around,” Tommy asks him after another minute of silence. Wilder glances back up at him.

“Got a residency downtown,” he replies. “And then UCLA in the fall. So I’ll be here, yeah.”

Tommy nods. “We should get dinner. Evan wants to meet you properly.”

“Sure,” Wilder says again. What else is he supposed to say? They’re not together anymore.

“Give me call when you’re more settled. We’ll plan something,” Tommy says with a pat to Wilder’s shoulder. He’s walking backwards then, heading back down the aisle. He shakes a finger in Wilder’s direction. “Good to see you, Wy.”

. . .

The second time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, they’re in another bar. He’s been in the studio almost exclusively for the better part of a week and had been dragged out by a friend with the promise of carbs—his fridge might’ve been mostly empty, other than juice boxes and pepperoni slices—but carbs is apparently at a bar that doubles as a pizzeria.

He’s not following them, he swears. But he’s been waiting for ten minutes on his pizza while his friend is on the phone with his girlfriend when Tommy strolls up to the bar with his boyfriend—Evan? Tommy has his arm wrapped around the younger man’s hip, head tilted in and listening as Evan prattles on with very animated expressions. Wilder isn’t even sure what he’s on about, but regardless, Tommy is nodding along, clearly invested.

When they make it up to the bar, some five feet away, Tommy’s arm wraps around Evan, boxing him in. There’s a grin on his face and Wilder notices as Evan leans back into Tommy’s body, turns his head and says something into his ear. Tommy laughs, loud enough that the tinkling sound of it carries in Wilder’s direction.

“Four for Buckley,” one of the barbacks calls out. Evan raises his hand and the man steps over with boxes of pizza. At the same time, someone from the kitchen yells out, “Veggie with mushrooms, light alfredo up.”

Tommy lifts his head at that, leans back from Evan just enough to look around the bar before his eyes eventually fall on Wilder. He smiles at him. A few seconds later, he’s up next to Evan’s ear, and then Evan glances over in Wilder’s direction. There’s a half-second pause where Evan seems to be taking him in before he smiles affiliatively at Wilder. Evan picks up the pizzas and Tommy switches the arm he has around Evan’s waist as they stride over. As they reach him, another person is settling Wilder’s pizza in front of him.

“So do you just hang out at all the best bars in LA,” Evan asks when they reach him.

“Honestly, I’m usually locked up in the studio,” Wilder replies. He glances in Tommy’s direction, but Tommy is still looking at Evan. Still that look in his eyes. Evan moves a hand from under the pizzas and extends it.

“Evan Buckley. Most people call me Buck though,” he states. Wilder extends a hand to him, shaking it.

“Wilder Gray.”

Evan nods. “I know.” There’s an expression on his face that’s caught somewhere between a multitude of emotions. A look that falls somewhere between curiosity, understanding, and skepticism. Wilder looks him over, spots the emblem on his t-shirt.

“You’re a firefighter,” he muses.

“And you’re a multidisciplinary artist,” Evan replies.

Wilder nods. It’s interesting. It’s like they’re meeting for the most cordial duel of all time, but neither of them have brought guns; just clipboards and pens.

A phone rings, and Tommy glances away from them. A moment later, he looks back up.

“Hey baby that’s Eddie and Chris wondering why we haven’t brought dinner back,” he states, giving Evan’s hip a light squeeze. Evan nods, although his gaze lingers on Wilder for a few seconds longer. He turns then, leans into Tommy. Wilder watches as whatever tension is left in Tommy’s body seeps away.

God damn. He really wanted to not be able to like Evan Buckley.

“See you around,” Evan states after a moment, glancing in Wilder’s direction again. Wilder nods at him. As Evan and Tommy walk away, Tommy’s hand still on Evan’s hip, his friend strides back across the room

“Hey, what’d I miss?”

. . .

A few weeks go by without any run-ins. Maybe it’s because Evan and Tommy find other places to hang out. Maybe it’s because Wilder basically lives in his studio (it’s definitely not that). Maybe it’s because of wildfire season (it might be that). Either way, Wilder doesn’t see much social interaction beyond his friends occasionally dropping by the studio and his parents stopping in to drag him into the sunlight. Once or twice he opens grindr, but nothing promising pans out.

It’s mid August when Wilder spots them out together again. Another bar, another set of drinks. He’s been flirting with a guy who introduced himself three minutes after Wilder walked through the door when he spots Evan on the other side of the room. He almost thinks about going over to say something, but there’s a look in his expression.

Something that looks curiously like defeat. Tommy is standing next to him—Wilder could place that mop of hair anywhere—talking into his ear much like he was that first night all those weeks back. He tries to look away enough to not make Evan look in his direction, realize he’s being stared at. But he sees the way Tommy’s talking calms Evan, the way he leans into him. The way their communication wipes out the defeat in Evan’s expression and replaces it with a small smile. And then a laugh. And then before long, Tommy has Evan half tipped on the barstool, their noses and foreheads pressed together as Evan straight-up giggles. Tommy is laughing with him, and fuck.

Wilder really wanted to not like Evan Buckley.

But Evan Buckley isn’t Mike, holding Tommy hard enough to hurt him (although the way he fists Tommy’s t-shirt before he kisses him makes a different kind of jealousy stir in Wilder, like these two probably throw each other around a bedroom with ease, and he wants to see that). Evan Buckley clearly isn’t Leo, just looking to fuck Tommy hard into a mattress and leave him behind.

Evan Buckley might be a little like Ezra, and Wilder isn’t sure how he clocks that. Except, there’s an ease about him that Ezra never had. Evan Buckley clearly wasn’t looking for an education. The love in his eyes was obvious to the entire damn bar, whether they wanted to know or not.

Evan Buckley definitely was not Charlie. He was openly making out with Tommy in public, hands all over the man’s body in a way that Wilder could tell was at least partially to tell the world ‘this is mine, and only mine’.

. . .

It’s an early morning in September when they run into each other. Wilder is definitely not prepared for an eight AM class, and he’s questioning why he agreed to take this particular one on, but there’s no option to back out now.

He stands inside the café wearily, waiting on his order, when the door chimes with ringing bells and he glances up. Evan Buckley.

The blonde is in a hoodie Wilder recognizes as Tommy’s. The Harbor Station seal is on the back of it with his last name printed across the bottom. Evan yawns as he walks up to the counter and grabs two coffees. Knowing the kind of schedules they work, it seems Evan is heading home while Wilder is just starting his day.

Except, Evan stops in his tracks when their eyes meet.

“Evan,” he comments softly, acknowledging the other man. “Or, Buck. If you prefer.”

Evan shrugs. “Evan is fine.” A pause. “Wilder. Its…convenient? To see you.”

Wilder lets out a small chuckle. He nods.

Evan walks forward a few steps, as though he’s not going to say anything further, and he makes it about a half-step past Wilder before he stops, leans back slightly, contemplating. He looks up at him.

“He still talks about you,” he states. There’s no jealousy in his tone, no anger. Almost like he’s just putting the information out into the universe. Wilder nods again. He stares at Evan for a moment and then tilts his head slightly, almost like he’s letting him in on a secret.

“And he’s in love with you.”

Evan stares at him for a moment, and Wilder isn’t sure if Evan has realized that or not. His expression doesn’t let on one way or the other.

Wilder takes a deep breath and the corner of his mouth pulls up a little into a small smirk.

“Tommy never once looked at me the way he does you,” he states. “Not even during the best of it all. And me? I couldn’t ever fully accept the job.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating whether he needs to say more. Even if he doesn’t, he continues anyway. “I found him when he needed a friend. You founded him when he needed a partner.”

A smile pulls at Evan’s face. If he has anything else to say, he doesn’t get the chance. His phone starts to buzz in the pocket of the hoodie, and he stacks the coffees together before pulling it out, answering the call, shooting only half a glance in Wilder’s direction before he speaks.

“Hi, babe. No, I already got it. I’ll be there in like five.”

. . .

It’s the first week of December. Wilder is exhausted, maybe even a little burnt out, but riding high. His residency has panned out into an exhibition, and it’s the opening night. He’s been bouncing all over the gallery, trying to greet everyone and talk to them, see what they do and don’t like about the work presented.

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he finally finds a few seconds to get a bottle of water, and he spins. Tommy.

“Hey, T,” he greets cheerfully, if not a little weary. “Thanks for coming.”

Tommy nods, and they share a quick hug.

“How’d you hear,” he asks. Tommy gestures off towards one of the walls and Wilder glances over.

“Evan saw the listing,” he states. “Told all of our friends we needed to come support. He’s really obsessed with that picture of your nephews.”

WIlder glances over at the picture. It’s a large portrait, of two children facing away from the camera. One, old enough and tall enough that he isn’t even in the image aside from his torso and legs, with his hand resting on the younger one’s head. The younger child is a toddler, leaning into his sibling’s leg with his arm wrapped around it.

“I’ve been tasked with getting your price list,” Tommy adds.

Wilder lets out a soft huff as a smile tugs across his lips.

He wanted to hate Evan Buckley. He wanted Evan Buckley to be like Mike. Or Leo. Or Ezra. Or Charlie.

He wanted Evan Buckley to not be like him, not love and respect Tommy the way he did. But then…

Evan Buckley isn’t like Wilder. Evan Buckley supports the people his boyfriend cares about. Evan Buckley doesn’t care that Tommy is a firefighter or a pilot. Evan Buckley clearly likes art. Wilder barely knows him, and yet he already knows Evan Buckley is caring and selfless.

He takes a breath and sighs, glancing back at Tommy, watching the way he watches Evan.

“You’re gonna marry him.” It’s not a question.

Tommy shifts his gaze back to Wilder. It’s the slightest movement, entirely imperceptible to someone who wouldn’t know otherwise. The twitch of the corner of his mouth, of his eyebrow.

“Forever doesn’t seem nearly long enough,” Tommy says softly.

Wilder can only shake his head at him as he smiles at his ex-boyfriend.

“Well, when you start interviewing wedding photographers, I’d like to at least be consulted,” he states, extending a hand to Tommy. Tommy laughs at him but shakes his hand anyway.

“Sure, Wy. But you should know, Evan’s seen your paintings and he wants one commissioned.”

“I’ll take that payday,” Wilder says with a laugh. When Tommy lets go of his hand, he pats Wilder’s shoulder, and then he’s off again, heading back over to Evan and the friends they brought with them. Wilder stands in his spot a moment longer, both hands on the waterbottle he still hasn’t had a drink from. He watches as Tommy’s arm loops around Evan’s waist, and as Evan leans into him. The way Evan points at a portrait and talks to Tommy earnestly about whatever it is he sees. The way Tommy is completely enraptured by Evan’s words, nodding and smiling at him with interest.

The way Evan puts his hand on the back of Tommy’s head as he leans into him, whispers into his ear. How, when Tommy turns into him to answer, Evan looks at him like he’s the only person in the room.

The way jealousy still lives inside Wilder, but not the way it was that first night. No, this jealousy is from the way they look at each other, the way Wilder only hopes someone will hopefully look at him one day. He finally looks away when the two men kiss, cracking open his water bottle. He manages to get a sip off of it before someone else is walking up to him.

“You’re the artist, right?”

#bucktommy positivity week #bucktommy #tevan #mini #firepilot #firebeast #the picture referenced is one of mine #outsider perspective #wilder

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faetima · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!! Can I please request a hanahaki fic with blade? I'm not sure if you've written for him though!

Also, please take some breaks! You've written a lot of fics lately, you might get overworked 🤍

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. .

. .hanahaki just had to put you through fucking hell, didn't it?

// tws ; lil bit of cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au

a/n: OH MY GOD ANON YOURE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST ILYSM OMOGMOGO

i will be writing a part two to this.. soon enough :3

you couldn't do anything about this stupid disease anyways, so what was the point of even trying?

you heaved up clusters and clusters and clusters of ugly bright red petals, their sickly sweet scent making its way up to your nose. you felt so fucking nauseous and dizzy. the fragrant miasma of flowers overwhelmed you. you wanted to vomit or cry or die or anything but cough up these dumb stupid flowers.

the flowers flopped onto your floor--your newly polished floor-- ungracefully, covered in slick mucus and freshly coated in splatters of blood. they smeared the previously pristine tiling with blood, the iron stench of it mixing with the flowers and filling up the entire room. you just wanted the disease to kill you already. if it was going to either way, why make you suffer?

after what felt like hours and hours and hours and hours of coughing and heaving and choking, the flowers finally stopped fucking coming. you took shaky shallow breathes, trying to ground yourself.

your palms stung, and you looked down to realize you had been digging your nails into the palms of your hand almost strong enough to draw blood.

your gaze trailed up to the stupid fucking flowers.

upon closer inspection, you realized they were spider lilies. red ones.

his favorite flowers.

too bad you hated them.

his eyes were the same exact color of the flowers you had just coughed up.

blade sat two seats in front of you and one to the right, and whenever you saw him you couldn't help but wonder why you had fallen for him.

he was always so indifferent and cold. sure there might've been something warmer under his icy exterior, but you weren't the type of person to go dig through someone's cold attitude just to find out what they were actually like.

but some days you wished you knew what was under that cold front of his.

you were getting worse.

you'd barley come out of your room to stretch your legs or go to the bathroom or even eat.

the spider lilies were killing you from the inside out. of course you had to have hanahaki for someone who probably hated you, if he even knew you existed, that is.

and, on top of that, out of all flowers, the ones you coughed up had to be toxic.

if just hacking up the flowers was bad, the nausea they caused because of being toxic was worse. you couldn't even go five minutes without feeling abdominal pain and nausea.

ugh.

blade swallowed hard.

why did he feel like this? why did his heart beat so fast when this random ass person passed by?

he gritted his teeth.

"kafka," he grumbled, barley glancing in her direction.

kafka glanced up from her book, setting it down elegantly and tucking a strand of mauve hair behind her ear, adjusting the tinted glasses sitting atop her head in the process.

"yes, bladie?" she grinned a little, and blade could only groan in irritation.

"who's that?" he muttered, gesturing towards the person he had been thinking about earlier.

"why?" kafka mused. "you've never been interested in learning others' names before now. what's changed?"

"nothing," he muttered gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest. his ears felt hot and his heart was beating faster and he was getting butterflies and he didn't know why.

kafka grinned, eyes glinting with amusement.

"ooh, i think someone has a crush."

"no."

"okay, let's go talk to them then bladie."

"no!"

"why not? is it cause you like them?"

"..fine. let's go talk to them."

your head fell forward a little. another sleepless night of coughing up flowers didn't bring you any good.

suddenly, your eyes snapped open.

was that.. blade? walking towards you? with kafka?

no, it probably wasn't. you were probably just sleep deprived and hallucinating or something.

but then you smelt the strong and unmistakable scent of anise, too real to be your imagination.

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beeebird · 2 months ago

Text

Uncleared bug

（Wreck-It Ralph AU）(What follows is a super long introduction…) (To put it simply, this is a story about a ghost.)

_________________________________________

(Background Premise)

In the years following the events of Sugar Rush (the plot of the movie), word that Turbo had survived the previous accident and had been lurking in Sugar Rush quickly spread to Game Central Station. The characters are shocked that Turbo survived, and glad that he is now dead. ... But is he?

Game companies never miss a good opportunity to continue making money. Of course, they had no idea that their character would murder another character. ... In short, a new TurboTime series of games has been launched. Cutting-edge 3D technology, a sequel to an old game - a well-run arcade has no reason not to buy this new arcade. So a brand new TurboTime game was plugged in.

New Turbo, and the twins, Drift, and Set arrive at Game Central Station. (There are other roles, if needed).

On the surface, at least, their appearance is very different from the appearance in the old series of TurboTime. And in character... well, Turbo is still the same cocky, attention-obsessed, over-conquering, annoying guy. The characters in the arcade game hid from the new series their previous accidents due to the old Turbo. And at the same time try to be friendly to them in the new series. But the previous accident had left a bad impression of Turbo in their minds. Naturally, the new Turbo was not welcomed by Game Central Station. (The twins, on the other hand, are constantly being looked at in the "poor guy" way, which is strange to them.)

Unaware of the tragic events that had taken place in the arcade, New Turbo assumed that the characters were simply rejecting him because he was the new guy. So he was determined to prove himself. Well, if you want to prove yourself worthy of affection. The easiest way is to challenge someone to prove themselves better - and that person is Vanellope. (" I must be a better driver than a little girl!" He said so at the time). It's a pretty embarrassing situation.

But all in all, Vanellope is friendly because "well, it wasn't the new guy who made the mistake, so maybe he's a good guy?" The idea agreed to the friendly match.

The day of the race went well. Turbo doesn't mind being stared at by candy residents. All he cares about now is the next game.

Start the engine and hit the gas as hard as you can. Turn the wheel, don't be pulled by centrifugal force... Pay attention. It's just a simple friendly match with a little girl from the candy world. Turbo thought. Until their go-kart made it all the way to Rainbow Cave (if that's what you can call it). As he rushed out of the tunnel, Turbo suddenly felt a strong sense of dizziness, and it seemed that he saw some red and white figure. Although he quickly shook off this sudden discomfort, he was thus overtaken by Vanellope.

Even if the game ends in a draw. Turbo still felt bad, physically and psychologically. His head has been aching ever since he felt a sudden dizziness at the mouth of the tunnel, like something was... Pull his code. "Maybe it's just the bright colors of the candy world that make me dizzy," he thought. So Turbo found an excuse to go back to his game and rest.

Back in his lounge, Turbo felt restless. Yes - that was a "draw," but it still pissed him off. He should be better than all the racers, not some "draw". Even more unbearable than the frustration of failure (which he thought he was) was the growing headache, the tearing of the code in his body that challenged his endurance all the time. "damnit, I really need to calm down and rest right now..." 'he thought.

In the bathroom, the cold water on the face temporarily relieved the headache. But a ringing in his ears put Turbo back into a trance. He's in a weird state today. What's going on? He held the edge of the sink trembling, trying to suppress the queasy feeling in his throat. Then he looked up ——

... Suddenly, the red-and-white figure he had seen vaguely as he walked through the tunnel appeared in the bathroom mirror. "Do you want to win?" The figure whispered. In a trance,

Turbo thought he must be crazy.

#turbo #turbo wir #king candy #turbo wreck it ralph #wreck it ralph au #Uncleared bug

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spacemagictea · 1 month ago

Text

Beacon in the Dark

First of the stories I've written about my Drifter, Kaylessa and Amir Beckett. I plan to write more and it will all include some fluff, some angst and some sap.

TW: Sibling death

Stories will include spoilers from both the quest and the chats in one way or another to a varying degree.

I've not written things in like 10 years, and I've never shared things that I've written/came up with to be honest. I hope you enjoy.

If color coding makes things harder to read, then I'll remove it. Lemme know, please. <3

Spoken dialogue in -speak-, thoughts in 'thought', just in case.

March 14th,1999

The days in Höllvania were starting to get longer as winter slowly gave way to spring. Warmer seasons presented new challenges, but also new opportunities. One exceptionally calm evening in the central mall, Kaylessa was discussing a field hospital setup with Lettie.

-Alright, we seem to have the layout worked out.- Kay straightened out in the chair, gently pushing a rough plan drawing towards the medic. -How do you feel we discuss supplies tomorrow, maybe after lunch?

-Muy bien, come tomorrow whenever you aren’t busy. Get some rest for now. Gracias, babas.- Lettie nodded with appreciation, grabbing the piece of paper to take a closer look.

-Great. See you tomorrow, then.

The Drifter got up from the chair, rolling back her shoulders. At first, she considered walking straight to the backroom before an idea sprung in her mind and she headed downstairs.

‘Perhaps I should invite him to lunch. I think he’d like that.’

Recently, she talked over the KIM with Amir about what she jokingly called a “date idea” of having a talk about her past over a big plate of pasta. She came to appreciate the jittery technician a lot over the last weeks, finding a lot in common with him. Kay directed her steps towards the arcade, where he could be found in his time off. This time, she saw Amir hunching over some machinery, doing some tinkering on some kind of circuit board. In one hand, he held a soldering iron, in the other a pair of tweezers as he seemed to be adjusting or putting on a chip on the PCB. Kaylessa hated breaking Amir’s focus when he seemed invested in doing something, even if he never got angry at her regardless of her timing.

This time, however, things went a bit different than usual as Amir looked up from the board and spotted her walking in, even though a second ago he seemed absolutely absorbed by his work.

-Heya! You need something, Kay? - Kay could swear Amir’s grey eyes lit up with a subtle spark whenever he noticed her coming up to him and this time was no exception. While normally she’d chalk it up to him being a cheerful guy, it felt like it happened only towards her. Or perhaps that’s what she wanted to think.

-Hey, Amir. I was thinking about our recent chat and uhm…- she stuttered a little in an unusual show of shyness -How would you feel about eating lunch together tomorrow?

This time, she couldn’t deny the joy she noticed in his eyes as he responded. Did her heart skip a beat now or was it just a feint?

-Yes! I’d love that!- his leg started bouncing like an excited Kubrow puppy. -What time?

She wasn’t sure if she expected him to decline or if her brain just crashed under happy emotions because she realized she didn’t immediately have an answer.

-Uh, like, 14… I think? The hour I usually come to eat- she blurted out, feeling the heat of her cheeks as they turned a soft shade of red. -Time’s weird in this place.

-Heh, everything is weird in this place. See you tomorrow, then? - The enthusiastic response encouraged Kay, as she gave Amir a wide smile and an equally cheerful confirmation.

-Great! I’ll go ask Arthur to prepare something for us.

She headed out towards where Arthur usually operated, feeling like her head floated in the clouds, heart pounding in her chest. The sensation was odd, but she welcomed it. Suddenly, she felt Eleanor gently slip in her mind with a voice of worry.

‘You okay there, Drifter? Your mind suddenly started racing and I got a bit concerned.’

‘Yeah.’ she nodded as if she was replying to Eleanor face to face. ‘Just a bit… overwhelmed with emotions, that’s all. But positive emotions.’

'Ah, I see.' There was a brief pause as if Eleanor took a moment to realise what’s up. ‘He could use someone like you in his life, you know? Someone who will help him acknowledge his worth. But do not worry, I will not spill anything unless I absolutely have to.’ The last words had the most teasing tone and Kay could swear her cheeks were not unlike the most pure rubedo in this moment.

‘Absolutely have to? I mean… I can’t even figure it out… just yet. But… thanks for keeping it safe.’ Her reply stammered, but the encouragement stuck in the back of her mind. As Eleanor withdrew with the same gentle grace as she got in, Kaylessa couldn’t help but start to ponder. She did know she cared about Amir, but this was unlike anything she experienced before. She had friends, but never anything more. Not that she got any opportunities to experience that before coming here. Quincy attempted to flirt with her day 2 of knowing her and it flew over her head like a rock launched from a catapult. Granted, it didn’t help that the first impressions of him were not so positive, but it was so obvious, when she later realized it, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, or both. Amir on the other hand didn’t try anything explicit, but she couldn’t help but read his behavior as his own way of trying to capture her attention. If he didn’t have his own tasks, he’d volunteer to go on missions with her, even if they wouldn’t normally be something up his alley. He often sought her out and even if they didn’t talk, he seemed to enjoy having her around. And Kay often returned the favor, sometimes spending more of her time off sitting in the arcade than in her backroom. Sometimes they didn’t talk for hours on end, yet there was a mutual feeling of “glad you’re here”. She’d chalk it up to wanting to be friends with him, but she never had a funny feeling in her stomach and sudden outbursts of awkward shyness when talking to her friends. This was something more, even if she was hesitant to admit if, if only for fear of it not being mutual.

She didn’t even notice when she got to the monitoring room. Arthur was his usual brooding self, standing hunched over some local maps with a pencil in hand, probably planning the routes for the next missions. Kaylessa approached the squad leader.

-Hey, Arthur. Sorry to interrupt.- Despite the rocky start to their relationship, there was already an air of mutual respect between them. Arthur was very much impressed with Kaylessa’s work ethic and the Drifter with how he managed to keep everything together in spite of all the odds against the Hex.

-Drifter. What do you need?- he acknowledged her, looking up from the maps. -How’s the field hospital planning?

-Good. We got the layout sketched out and I’ll help Lettie sort out a list of supplies we will need tomorrow so you can get us some leads. I’ve got a little request.- Kay tried her best to not betray the feelings the mention of the request stirred within her. Arthur didn’t seem to show whether he figured anything out and gave her a nod to continue. -For lunch tomorrow, would you mind preparing some pasta for two?

-Yeah, but can you be more specific? There’s many types of pasta, I assume you don’t want square spaghetti.- he chuckled.

-NO.- Kay’s eyes widened on the reminder of the horrible contraption. -It was called, I believe, rigatoni? No clue how it’s normally prepared. It’s for me and… for Amir.- she felt slight heat on her cheeks again when she finished the request. Embarrassed, she scolded herself in her mind. Thankfully, Arthur didn’t bring it up, whether he noticed or not.

-Okay. Consider it done, I’ve got a recipe everyone might like even.- he seemed to be quite enthused by the request. Drifter noticed that Arthur liked cooking and she was glad he had an outlet. He absolutely needed it. Thus, the request felt like she was doing a service to him as well.

-Thanks. Take care, then.- she turned around and began heading to the backroom.

-You too. And, Kay? Thanks for being a positive influence on Amir.- Arthur’s sudden expression of gratitude surprised her, but she gave him a quick head bow before picking up the pace of her walk, hoping that her cheeks turning crimson again wasn’t noticed.

When Kaylessa returned to the backroom, she let out a sigh of… relief? She didn’t expect her request to be accepted, and yet there she was, her heart fluttering with joy and excitement. Preparing for sleep, she hummed a happy melody that she didn’t even know where she remembered it from. And she let the joyful anticipation lull her to sleep, even if she knew her dreams probably weren’t going to be so nice.

In the meantime, Amir paced happily around the arcade. Kay’s request was a bit unexpected, but it left him overjoyed all the same. His mind raced with questions and wondering what - and how - he should ask her about things. Was it going to be a date or a friendly talk? Regardless, he was going to embrace this opportunity to spend more time alone with her. Tomorrow was going to be good, wasn’t it?

—

March 15th, 1999

The next day, Amir was waiting in the food court of the mall since 13 ticked on the clock, his excitement making him unable to stay in the arcade. Surprisingly he hasn’t seen Kaylessa out and about yet on this day, but perhaps she was busy with something. The next hour came around however and he could feel his excitement replaced by anxiety as no sign of the Drifter was showing. His legs were bouncing and even his usual best game distractions didn’t seem to work to chase off the brain goblins.

“Maybe she forgot? Maybe she got really busy with something? Ormaybeshehatesmeactuallyandsetmeup-” his mind raced as minutes passed with no indication of change to her lack of presence. “Or maybe I should ask others if they’ve seen her. Yeahthatsoundsaboutrightshe’shelpingthemallalotafterall”.

With this resolution, he got up, the race of his heartbeat rivaling the pace of his steps. He took a deep breath to try rein himself in or he wouldn’t be able to talk to others otherwise.

First stop, Aoi’s music shop. Aoi just returned from her mission and was unpacking her gear when Amir peeked into her room, looking as if he wanted to hide out of embarrassment.

-Hey, Aoi… Have you seen Kay today? I haven’t seen her and sheaskedmetoeatwithherand… she didn’t show up yet.-

-No, but that sounds unlike her to not show up. I’ve been out all day though so maybe ask the others?- Aoi looked up at Amir, soft worry showing up on her face.

-Okaythanks- he immediately raced over to Arthur, who was cleaning up after cooking.

-Hey Arthur, have you seen Kay? - Amir stopped his movement, but his feet kept tapping as if he wanted to keep on going, as if the matter could not wait for answers.

-No.- Arthur looked at Amir surprised, but his face immediately turned slightly concerned. -I was going to ask you the same since she made a special order for you two and she also didn’t show up to pick up any bounties today. I’ve packed the portions for you two into lunch boxes though, feel free to grab them.- He pointed at the two boxes and Amir took them before heading off. The smell of a cheesy tomato sauce was unmistakable and he immediately realised what’s in the boxes. On one hand, it made him happy that she thought of this, on the other, a sense of dread settled in his mind that something was wrong.

Quincy was still out on a mission still and even then, Amir wouldn’t risk asking. No need to subject himself to ridicule.

As he ran over to Eleanor’s residing spot, he didn’t even cross the doorstep of the former furniture shop as she immediately reached out to his mind, as if she already knew what he came to her for.

“Go check on her. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can’t seem to reach her. It’s not like Kaylessa to not be up and about already and absolutely not like her to ask for someone’s time and not show up without notice.” Eleanor’s worried tone scared Amir, but also reassured him in what he already knew he should do.

-You’re always so good at giving advice, Eleanor. Thankyouthankyouthankyou- he responded out loud, turning around and straight up leaping onto the halfway point between the floors and sprinting through the rest of the stairs and toward the backroom.

He passed the whispering Void doors with unease. Within the room there was nothing but calm and silence. Kalymos was sleeping near the stage monitoring area and Shale, Kaylessa’s kubrow, acknowledged Amir’s presence with a quick glance and a gruff snort before going back to sleep on the lounge couch left behind by Dr. Entrati.

-Atleastthedogdoesn’twanttoeatme- he halfheartedly mumbled to himself, his anxiety rising up again as he wasn’t sure what he was going to find upstairs. Taking deep breaths in futile attempts to calm himself down, he walked up and through the door to the lounge. He couldn’t help but notice how homely she made it feel with her decorations. Planters everywhere, pictures on the wall and… plushies. There were some plushies on the couch and a hint of a whole pile near the balcony. She even brought in some furniture that seemed otherworldly in a way. Perhaps brought over from the future or from Duviri? Was Duviri also future? Such thoughts didn’t matter right now, though.

Amir set the lunchboxes on the cabinet behind a soft armchair as he looked towards the part separated by curtains and he saw her on the bed that had the same styling as other furniture she brought in. His heart skipped a beat and sank a little in familiar sadness.

She was sleeping and she didn’t seem peaceful in that sleep at all, tossing and turning about, distressed gibberish escaping her mouth and her short crimson hair an utter mess. He immediately understood what was happening. After all, he was also often plagued with anguish in his sleep. At first he thought of waking her up by shaking her out of it but that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. He wasn’t even sure what was appropriate to do, but he decided to let his feelings guide him. Unusually carefully for him, he stepped forward and sat down on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced nervously as he slightly leaned, his hand reaching towards her. In the moment she was still on her side, Amir gently gave her cheek a soft caress, afraid of the touch startling her. It didn’t but it seemed to have some effect as her expression became more peaceful.

He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Carefully, he moved the hair that dropped on her face up, thoughtlessly enjoying the softness of the crimson strands. He sat a bit more comfortably before moving his hand to grab hers.

He wasn’t even sure why he did this, surely she couldn’t feel the same way he does, right? What if what he was doing would scare her off? And yet, why did it feel so right to give her these tender gestures? His mind raced with hundreds of thoughts per second, a different kind of anxiety settling in. But he couldn’t get himself to stop.

After what seemed like forever, Kay slowly stirred awake. She squeezed Amir’s hand without realizing it at first, before a soft “Huh?” as she noticed an additional presence. Amir withdrew, his anxiety making his heart feel like it’s going up to his throat, almost expecting a berating for being a bit too brave with his affections.

-Amir?- she raised her head and then sat up, perplexed at first. -What… oh. OH. I’m so sorry, Amir I didn’t mean to…- she immediately panicked as she figured out that she slept through their arranged meet time. -I couldn’t seem to get out of these…

-It’s okay, Kay, it’s okayit’sokayit’snotyourfault- he didn’t even know why his instincts told him to do so, but he immediately wrapped his arms around the clearly distressed Drifter. -You had nightmares, didn’t you?

“justlikeIdobutdidn’thavethegutstotellyouandnowi’mprobablyunwittinglyforcingyoutotellmeaboutyours” his thoughts continued without letting that out.

-Yeah…-Kay accepted the hug, surprised but also relieved he wasn’t angry at her. She leaned into the embrace, letting out a sigh. -They often plague me… I keep reliving the Zariman nightmare in my mind over and over and over again... and this time they wouldn’t let up. I felt as if I sank into darkness.- her emerald green eyes welled up with tears she clearly has been holding back for a long, long time.

-I…knowwhatyoumean.- Amir nodded, tightening the hug. His first assumptions felt so silly now but he was glad to be proven wrong.

-And then I felt as if something touched me and I saw a soft flickering light and as I reached towards it, the nightmares couldn’t pull me any further in. It then felt like a warm handle that let me pull myself out.- she continued, trying to hide the blush springing up on her cheeks.

He smiled. While he lacked the courage to ask about this feeling further, something about her words made him feel a warmth he never experienced before. -Thank you for checking up for me, Amir. I mean it.

-Anytimenoproblem- Amir blurted out as his cheeks turned a shade of red. -I grabbed food from Arthur so if you’re hungry, we can eat… anddontfeelforcedtospeakaboutanythingyoudon’tfeelcomfortableaboutokay?

-Talking about it is never comfortable, but you deserve to know at least part of it.- Kay gave him a soft smile and they moved to the couch opposite to the bed.

—

During the meal, Kay talked about the more mundane parts of her pre-Zariman incident life that she remembered, happily feeding Amir’s curiosity about the future. She told him about her older sister, Aurelia. Once they finished the meal, Kay settled more comfortably on the couch, but her expression seemed anything but. Amir looked a bit concerned.

-Kay, really, if you don’t feel comfortable…

-I’ve made up my mind. A lot of my nightmares involve her. My guilt about her death. Maybe… maybe this will give me some closure.- she didn’t seem sure if she believed her last sentence but it was clear she resolved to tell everything about this part of her story.

Amir shifted, his leg bounced anxiously. Carefully, he put one arm around the Drifter, hoping to offer her some extra reassurance.It seemed to be appreciated, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh. He gently moved his palm, letting the soft crimson threads weave in between his fingers and leaned his head on hers.

-So. When the failed jump happened. It was all pure chaos. My sister was an adult by then. And she was… she was…- Kaylessa didn’t even know when her voice started shaking, tears that welled up before now starting to run down her cheeks. She swallowed painfully and continued. -She was among the first to turn to madness caused by the Indifference.

Amir wrapped his second arm around her, giving her a tight, reassuring squeeze.

-It was like watching an animal, a beast, a monster, wearing the body of my beloved sister. It… was… and yet… wasn’t her. My parents had not turned yet and I went looking for her and I…- she took a few deep breaths, trying to not sob - I got cornered by her in one of the classrooms. She was going to kill me. I tried to call her, tried to get to her, but there was… nothing… left…

She could not hold it in anymore, sobs wracking through her. He pulled her in closer, allowing her to cry freely. He was entirely focused on her, on comforting her, on letting her let out the pain she clearly held onto for far too long. While it felt odd to him that he was the one she decided to trust with this, he didn’t want to let her down, not when she expressed endless patience for his excessive rants and raves. She slowly regained her composure once more.

-My survival instinct kicked in. I don’t remember what I grabbed, it all happened so fast, what I do remember was kneeling at her corpse, weeping. It wasn’t her anymore when I killed the body and yet… I could not stop the guilt, you know? And that guilt made it so when my parents turned… I could not bear to do the same to them even though it would probably be a mercy.

-Oh Sol and Lua, Kay. I’m so sorry. Idon’tknowhowIcouldcomfortyoubut… you carry so much guilt you do not deserve to carry. AndIfeellike…- he paused, unsure if he should continue the thought running in his mind.

-Like I constantly put myself last as a result and neglect my own feelings and needs? Yeah. That isn’t a wrong assessment.- She sighed, seemingly a bit relieved as if she tossed a lot of weight out of her body. -Sorry for burdening you with this story, but… thank you for being here and comforting me. It… it means a lot, you know?

-Thank you for trusting me enough to share.- he gave her one last tight hug before letting go, reflecting on the fact he didn’t share his burdens with her yet. But he felt he could trust her with them, when he was ready.

-She always protected me. And at the time, I felt like I failed to protect her in return. I still do. I’ve since promised myself to not fail anyone like that ever again. To honor her.- Kaylessa straightened out, looking at Amir with pure gratitude.

-I think you’re honoring her well, even if I’ddisagreeaboutyoufailing - Amir reciprocated the smile she gave him, his thoughts finishing once more without speaking out loud “Idon’tthinkyou’refailingatanythingyouresuchawonderfulandperfectperson”

She chuckled before getting up, the funny feeling in her mind swelling up again.

-Well, I should go help Lettie with the list of supplies for the field hospital. Perhaps tomorrow, when Arthur gathers leads on them, we could run together to get as much as we can?- Kay tilted her head expectantly, deep in her heart knowing the answer already.

-YES! Gladly!- Amir almost jumped up, excited about the prospect of a joint mission. They headed out of the backroom to carry on with the day, both surprised none of the Hex called them in, even though almost two hours passed since Amir entered the backroom.

#warframe #warframe 1999 #warframe amir #amir beckett #warframe drifter #drifter kaylessa #amir x drifter #fanfic #waframe fanfic #warframe 1999 fanfic #fanfiction #warframe fanfiction

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sparkanonymous · 3 months ago

Text

Let's get one thing out of the way; I messed up.

If you want to go more in-depth, read this post. If you don't want to, here's the jist of the situation: For the last year - I think - I have been coloring Raj's skin tone lighter. This is completely and utterly my fault.

I'm not going to make any excuses, in fear that it will give others an excuse for their own deplorable actions. Though I don't see myself as a racist person, this is still an example of colorism, and I can't stand by it.

Total Drama is something I hold dear in my heart, and Raj is one of my favorite characters in the entire series. The fact I did him this dirty makes me never want to draw him again.

I'm so sorry. All I can do is apologize, and that's definitely not good enough. I will do better in the future. I don't want anything like this to happen again, and I won't let it happen again.

There is nothing I can say that'll fix this situation. I have disappointed myself and hurt an entire community of people. I hope I can eventually make up for my mistakes, but I know that isn't possible in a short amount of time.

I don't expect this to be taken lightly; it shouldn't be. If this is the last I see of some of you, I hope you take care.

The rest of this post directly responds to parts of thesicklycowboy's post.

○■○■○

For this portion, I have also edited Raj's hair to be the correct color. (I didn't know where else to put this part, sorry.)

I won't be responding to everything, as I do think the post was well-spoken and something that certainly needs to be said, just parts that I felt I should respond to.

Blue is for them, and red is for me.

"So when you were addressing this and saying "it's color theory" excuse why did you not show your earlier pieces of Raj as well? The ones with far darker hair and deeper skin tones? You only referenced all the ones after after the lightening had begun."

As mentioned before, I don't know when the lightening began. The pieces I grabbed for comparisons were the ones that I could actively get the flats for. A lot of my previous pieces have been deleted from my iPad after being moved to my laptop for storage reasons. While you can tell that Raj is darker in my oldest TDI posts, I wouldn't have been able to color grab the original skin color to compare it to the others, which is why I added ones that I could find the flats of directly off of my page. I do wish I had gotten the flats for the oldest ones, but I can't really do anything about that now.

"The beginning of your ask responses is blatantly false and you contradict yourself at the end? So why keep that whole schpiel at all?"

Here is the part that they are referring to: "I didn't? I think he just looks lighter because of the filters I used on top of it."

I left this in for transparency because I genuinely thought that that was actually the case. But it wasn't. This is why I added, "Looking into the color issue..." I wanted to double check the claim because it very well could have been an issue. And it was.

... "And not yet another piece that is still super light."

Okay. I think I might know what the problem is here in particular. I add texture overlays (the layers with the filter of 'Sl' - Soft Light) to give my pieces... y'know, texture. The layer color I use is usually an off-white. I do this in all of my pieces because I thought it might help with keeping my work safe from AI, and because I like the paper-like look that it gives my art. I didn't put it over the entire piece because the background already has a ton of texture.

The one above is at 50%, and the one below it is at 30% for both Raj and Bowie.

Here is the same piece with the texture overlays turned off:

(Left is w/o the overlays, Right is w/ the overlays)

I don't want this argument to seem like I'm lessening my actions. This is the only thing that I think I have the right to stand up for. Texture is something I most likely won't take out of my work, though I may replace the texture overlays with something that is more full proof against AI, like those AI-disturbance layers that Ibis Paint has.

None of my actions were excusable, but I felt this needed to be explained.

Other than that, though, I don't know what else I could possibly do to fix the piece, considering I have fixed Raj's skin tone in this piece.

○■○■○

The rest of the post is not something I feel the need to respond directly to. I do think you should go and read the original post criticizing me and decide what you want to do in this matter.

This was not a "silly mistake." What I have done is genuinely messed up. I'm not going to run from this situation and say that I was ever justified in my actions. Because I never was.

I can only hope to be given the chance to amend this situation with future works, whenever that might be. I will most likely not continue to talk about this unless asked to. Idk what else I could possibly say that wouldn't make this situation worse. I am the guilty party, and the only thing I can do is learn from this and do better in the future, which I will.

Again, I am so sorry. I have fucked up, and I am prepared to take the consquences of my actions.

#total drama #total drama reboot #rajbow #tdi raj #td raj #spark speaks

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