#luckily sketch was done before today

[pippinscribs]

Day 6 - autonomy / abuse

Supernatural is actually just 15 seasons of Sam not belonging to himself

[sysig]

Me to myself, repeated for retention: Switching back to SAI does not automatically make it pop back up in OBS which works on a separate layer system, SAI2 will always take precedence unless it is minimized, SAI being open doesn’t make it the topmost layer-

[satorusugurugurl]

Models

Pairing: Nude Model!Geto Suguru x Model!FAB!Reader

Word Count: 1,977

Warnings: Nudity, flirting, suggestiveness, fluffy goodness

A/N: This fluffy Friday idea had me giggling and kicking my legs. So intimate and sweet!! Nemsmkekdkdk!!

Nude life modeling.

It was easy, paid pretty well, and it helped you get money for essentials when your shitty part-time job didn't schedule you. All you were required to do was strip down to your birthday suit and pose for a bunch of art students to draw you. The sessions lasted between two to five hours, with breaks. Sitting around naked while posing was an easy way to make twenty dollars an hour.

After a rough week of hardly any tips at the coffee shop, you desperately needed to pick up a modeling gig for the weekend. You needed groceries, and you had been dying to buy the newest book of your favorite series that just came out. Luckily, an evening art class needed a female model. You jumped at the opportunity, not wanting to eat instant Ramen for the third time this week.

Trotting into the art studio, you found it empty, allowing you to change into a plain white robe before the students arrived. Just as you tied the sash around your waist, the door to the classroom opened. You turned around expecting to find the teacher, only to find the sexiest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

He had dark eyes and raven hair tied up into a bun. You could hear the music blaring through his headphones as he tossed his backpack onto the ground before pulling his shirt over his head. With a squeak, you covered your eyes as if you weren’t already in the nude yourself.

“E-excuse me!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, “Excuse me!! I-I’m in here!!” when you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling, you grabbed a sketchbook off one of the desks, chucking it to the ground in front of his feet.

The man before you jolted, quickly pulling his headphones out. His dark eyes met you for the first time since he entered. “Oh shit!” He hid behind one of the canvases in the classroom. “Fuck! Sorry! Sorry!” You felt like your whole face was on fire.

“N-No, it’s okay! Maybe I have the wrong classroom!”

“Are you here to model for Yaga’s class?” the stranger asked tentatively.

“Uhm, yeah.”

“You're in the right place.”

Slowly blinking, you watched as the stranger peeked his head out from behind the canvas. “I am?” Your eyes wander toward the shirt and belt on the ground before him. “Then why are you—?”

The stranger stepped out in all his shirtless glory. Fuck he was hot, he had muscles for days. While you undressed the rest of him with your eyes, he stepped towards you. His fingers nervously played with his gauges as he stood in front of you, giving you a better view of his body. His muscles and the curves of his body would be perfect for any art student to sketch. If you were good with a pencil, you would have sketched a picture of him because it would be rude to pull your phone out and snap a photo of the insanely hot man in front of you.

“Yaga is going over body movement between two individuals. Like couples and stuff.” He gestured between the two of you. “That’s why I'm here. I guess Yaga failed to mention that in his ad today.” The strange brushed strands of his black hair out of his face. “The other model who was supposed to be doing this with me got food poisoning, so he was on a bit of a time crunch trying to find somebody to take her place.”

“Oh—” your fingers scratch your cheek, “right, okay, so I've always done solo work.”

The dark-haired man hummed in understanding. “Right, sorry he didn’t specify that in the ad. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I can let him know. If we have to cancel the class, that’s fine..” that was probably the best thing to do. But your stomach growled, hungry for something other than instant noodles.

“Ugh, no, it's fine, I’ll do it.” Why you agreed to do it was beyond you. Posing with a stranger, a hot one at that, was one of the craziest things you'd done. “Is it like back-to-back poses? Or are we talking cringe-worthy 90s family picture poses?”

The man before you chuckled as he shook his head, a dusty shade of rose spread over his cheeks. “That has to be one of the funniest things I've ever heard while modeling.” he glanced at the small wooden stage in the vented room. “It shouldn't be too crazy. Probably just us laying down or something.”

“Ah, very cool mystery man.”

“Oh right, sorry.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself before leaving the room to allow him to change. “Just come get me when you’re done.”

Once standing in the hall, you run your finger through your hair, tugging it gently. How did your simple modeling evening turn into an evening of modeling with the super hot guy? The more important question was how you were going to get through this entire evening being next to said hot stranger in the nude?!

Keep it together. You got this! You told yourself and attempted to ease your nerves. The following 3 to 4 hours would fly by fast, and then you would never see each other again. If you were lying on the floor next to each other? Naked. It wasn’t a super big deal. Just you and a stranger lying on the ground!

Two hours into the session, you stared directly into Geto’s eyes. “Geto,” you spoke softly, attempting not to distract the students around you.

“What’s up? Do you need a break?”

“No, I was just going to say I wish we were doing a 90s family photo pose. You know those kinds where you would sit on a stool, and I would awkwardly place my hands on one of your shoulders while we stare off into the distance?” Geto’s shoulders shook as he tried to contain his laughter.

You had to make fun of a situation like this. Where you were naked, straddling the hips of a nude man you didn't know, only having a thin cloth separating you from each other. It wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be. Thanks to Geto; he made it extremely comfortable for you. Asking for your consent before touching you, he often checked in to see how you were feeling. He was the perfect gentleman.

Geto also happens to be just your type. He was handsome, sweet, and had a killer body; you felt drunk off of his smell and touch. But would it be wrong to ask him out after doing a job together? You wanted to keep things strictly professional. Your stomach, unfortunately, didn’t get the same memo.

It grumbled helplessly, begging you to feed it something with value instead of instant noodles, protein bars, or candy. God, it was so loud you prayed Geto didn't hear it, that he was too focused on posing to notice your stomach’s begging pleas. You thought you might have been in the clear until Geto gently squeezed your hips, drawing your eyes towards him.

“Hungry?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“N-No.”

“Huh, because it sounds to me like you are.” You shift slightly as if moving would cause your stomach to growl at a softer volume. “W-Wait don—nngh.” Something thick and hard pressed firmly against your ass, making you squeak.

Geto groans, his fingers digging deeper into your hips, stopping you from moving any further. All you can do is stare at him. His eyes remain shut tight. Was he hard? Was he, this god-built man, popping a boner with you on top?

“Geto.” You whisper, a smile tugging at your mouth.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, so you can bring up my stomach growling, but I can’t bring up you hard co-“

Eyes snap open as he shushes you. “I’m sorry, I just think you’re cute and funny. I tried thinking about my grandma naked, but my brain would rather think of how good you feel in my lap.” He breathes out a minty sigh.

His candor had you blushing as you gripped his shoulder. You remain still like that until your stomach grows louder this time. Geto sputters out a laugh as you push yourself back an inch, rolling against his cock, causing a moan to break in through his laughter.

“Fuck, please stop doing that, or I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t see you as a pre-mature ejaculator.”

“I’m not—-normally.”

“Says the guy who just said he was gonna cum.”

Geto cocks a pierced brow at you. “I’m like the energizer bunny; I can go all night.” The room feels hot, and it’s not from the lights on you, and it’s not from constricting clothing. The classroom is unbearably hot because of the building tension between you two.

“I doubt that.” You confess in a whisper, rolling your eyes. “How long do you last? Two minutes tops?”

He scoffed gently, kneading your hips. “Is that a challenge?” The urge to kiss and take him up on his challenge eats at you like acid. You inch closer, lips nearly touching, when someone clears their throat behind you.

The sound of them clearing their throat reminds you that you are not alone. The both of you are in the middle of a classroom modeling for a bunch of students. Students that can clearly see and possibly hear the conversation you two are having.

“Later.”

That single word puts a pin in your whole conversation. Geto’s erection goes down while your stomach continues to growl, winning the softest of chuckles from the man you're still straddling. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, you manage to make it through the entire class without your stomach eating itself or grinding down on Geto, much to your amazement.

With the class over, Geto lets you change in the main room while he uses the supply closet. You finish before him, grabbing your things, eyes darting towards the closet. How does one ask out a fellow nude model? Was it just the heat of the moment that had you hungry for his touch? Or was there something truly there between you?

The never-ending questions stopped as Geto stepped out, pushing his hair back, eyes scanning the room. The instant they find you, he’s crossing the floor faster, his backpack slung over his shoulder. There was something in his smile that made you weak in the knees.

“Do you like soba noodles?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your stomach growls in agreement.

A smile so smooth it gives the butter a run for its money graces Suguru’s face. “Let me take you out for dinner and a drink,” he starts heading for the door, “before that stomach gremlin decides to eat me instead of food.” Heart racing, you grab your things, joining his side, hands clasped behind your back.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Geto, but the chances of me eating you after dinner are high.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes, I'd say there is a ninety-five percent chance you’re on the menu for dessert if you want to come back to my apartment.”

“Funny, I was going to say there’s a ninety-eight percent chance I was going to eat you for dessert~”

Glancing up, you nearly stumble as Geto sticks his pierced tongue out. “Then maybe I’ll accept your challenge and prove I can last longer than two minutes.”

You smirk, licking your lips with a starved expression. “Show me what you got from the energizer bunny.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

[natuart]

Happy Birthday Neil Gaiman! ♡

.

@neil-gaiman If you see this I hope you have a beautiful day!! ♡

.

I share this sketch that I did in 2019 because I didn't have time to make a drawing today hahahaha

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

So after waking up, I was drinking tea and enjoying the rain. I left the house to walk through the garden, soon joined by my cat, Vampi, although it wasn't long before he ran to hide when the rain came back a little harder. At that moment, for some reason I remembered that it was November 10th and I hadn't done the birthday drawing as I had planned. Luckily, I remembered drawing Neil in a sketchbook back in 2019. And here he is. I present to you a drawing that I made before the pandemic, it is strange that those drawings come to light.

My English is bad, so this is all Google Translate, I hope it's not bad xD

[aphroditesmoon]

what about being jace's childhood crush, then to disappear for a few years only to return to dragonstone as a full-fledged noble lady? i know it's a really common concept but the idea of shy Jace trying to approach his former (and current) crush makes me all giddybdkdkdndn

go as a dream

jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: none

a/n: sorry I took so long!! I've been so busy these days w school

°°°

The first time he met you, he caught you stealing lemon cakes made for his mother in the kitchen and you punched him in the face before running away with a basket of lemon cakes when he threatened to tell the kitchen maids.

From that moment onward, he was a man in love, a man of age ten and two.

The next and last time he met you was during his thirteenth name day. You had all of your hair up in braids and a deep blue dress that seemed almost black in the dark. Luckily the moon shone bright that night, illuminating on your skin as he finds you by a lake outside the palace feeding fishes.

"They bite you know." His attempt to suprise you had not work, his shoes have already alerted you of his presence moments ago.

"They bite you, my prince." He snorted at your response as he moves to sit next to you.

"Give me some?" He offers to help.

Your head snaps at his direction and your eyes meet, for the first time ever, he has the opportunity to really study your face.

And you were more beautiful up close compared to the incomparable sketch in his dreams that appears every night when he sleeps.

You frown at first, not understanding what he's doing here with you instead of inside the feast laid out for him.

"You should be inside, I'm sure many efforts were put into this feast for you." You suggest casually, turning away from his stare.

"Only if you come with me." His boldness was admirable, you almost had a sense of respect for him because of that.

"Is that an order from my prince?" You raised your eyebrows and he sighs.

"For a little girl you are quite stubborn." You reel back suprised.

"Me-? Well for a little boy you are quite up your own arse." He bursts out laughing and buries his face on his knees.

His reaction was unexpected but contagious as you can't help laughing along.

Soon both of you went back in, meeting the gaze of his worried mother, the princess Rhaenyra.

"Will you dance with me?" He asks suddenly.

When you only stare at him he continues; "My mother is going to drag me somewhere to lecture me about my duty or something, but she can't if I'm already occupied."

Understanding fills you in as you nod slowly. "And if your mother is willing to wait until we're done to lecture you anyways?" You question.

He grins at you mischievously while pulling you to the center to dance. "Then I hope you're prepared to spend the whole night with your feet on the ground and arms in mine."

His mother was in fact, willing to wait until the whole feast was finished to scold him for disappearing. She unfortunately did not forget about it like he hoped she would.

But he could not care less about it, not when the warmth of you palms on his shoulder still burns through. His mother would laugh if he told her, and his brother would jest about it.

But he really did believe she was the most amazing girl in the seven kingdoms, the smartest and prettiest, your beauty rivaling the moon's, and your sharp tongue that never fails to put him in his place while making him feel butterflies. He would find you tomorrow again, he swore.

Though unfortunately, the promise was never fulfilled, as that was the last time he ever saw you. As entranced as he was to you, He did not know or asked of your family house, therefore couldn't find you.

Years passed and he finds himself grown and over his silly infatuation as more concerning issues starts to present himself. Yet some nights he admits, you cross his mind as a part of his happier youth.

And today was one of the moments. He had woken from dreaming of you. a jumbled confusing dream, but of you nonetheless.

Your face plagued his mind longer than he would like, distracted by the memory you two shared, he couldn't get a single task done.

A whole day wasted of his head being plagued by the memory of his childhood crush. Reminded of lords arriving to dragonstone tomorrow for renewal of their pledges and alliance, he forces himself to clear his mind and fall into sleep.

°°°

His brother stormed through his room running towards his peacefully sleeping body and shook him awake.

"Go away you rat" He whines as Lucerys kept shouting something he can't be bothered to listen to.

Pushing a pillow on his face triggered Lucerys to become louder, earnings a groan from Jacaerys.

He removes the pillow and looked at him with puffy eyes.

"Hm? What'd you say?" He asked groggily earning an annoyed sigh from his brother.

"I said, They're here Jace, mother's waiting for you!" Immediately his eyes widen and he scrambles for the bath to clean himself as he curses himself for his irresponsibility.

°°°

He barges into the council room muttering an apology as he takes his heat. His mother sent him a disapproving look before continuing as if she wasn't interrupted by his entrance.

"As I was saying, the oath pledge ceremony will take place this evening, I've already had my maids make accomodations for yours and your daughter's room, I hope you will find it adequate enough my Lord."

The lord laughs and waves her off. "Of course of course, we are indebted for such hospitality, our house will always side with you Princess."

Jacaerys' felt in awe of the loyalty shown in front of him, seeing how many allies have pledge themselves to his mother proved how much his mother deserves to be Queen.

The council was dismissed and as everyone leaves, Jacaerys rushes to get up and join them before Rhaenyra calls out to him.

"Sit here Jace."

He sighed, defeated.

°°°

The lecture has drained him to be honest, but the feast tonight must be attended, it's in the honor of the lords that has come tonight,

It would be unseemly if the crown prince didn't attend.

As he walks inside the hall, heads bow at his direction, he greets some lord's before taking his place at the dinner table.

His mother stands up to make a toast thanking and reassuring the lords of their alliance while he scans the crowd and spots a particular lord from the council meeting this morning and who he assumed was her daughter.

His daughter.

Jace stands up abruptly, his chair making a loud screech noise, and all eyes turns to him in an awkward silence.

His mother looks confused as she asks her son if he's alright.

"I.." He relaxes his heartbeat before waving off the concerned eyes of his mother.

"I apologize, I thought I saw...a bee." unconvincingly he states and sit back down and the eyes slowly leaves him.

All eyes except yours. Directly looking at him, you gift him with a kind smile, one he reciprocate before turning his attention back to the toast.

As the feast official starts, Jace barely eats anything but some cake and wine, wanting to hurry to find you. His brother notices his odd behavior and frowns at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you today, you're acting like you got a bug in your pants of something."

"I'm fine." He says without meeting his eye, basically chugging down his wine, for confidence, he assures himself.

His eyes scans the dancing crowds and stops at the sight of you and ser Erryk Cargyll together.

He had his arm linked with yours as the two of you danced together, and Jace almost jumps off the table to drag ser Erryk away from you.

Of course , he contains himself and walks towards you instead.

Your gaze met his and you didn't look suprised, almost as if you've been waiting for him.

Ser Erryk excuses himself leaving the two of you together.

You give him a small smile and he beams at the sight of it.

"Well, you're going to dance with me until my shoe falls off again or what?" Your voice sent shivers down your spine. The same teasing tone and sarcasm still runs through you. He was glad.

"I will, though, I suggest you prepare yourself, I don't plan on letting you go so easily like last time."

Your smile softens and you take his hand in yours as the two of you slowly move more to the center.

"I should hope not."

His eyes does not leave yours once, and you revel in his attention.

"I looked for you. After you left, but I didn't know who you were, so I couldn't find you." He confesses as the two of you dance in slow turns, arms linked like old times.

"You did?" You asked suprised and he nods.

"I had to leave back that morning, I didn't know you would come to find me, or else I'd ask to say goodbye first." You assured him.

"I know, but it doesn't matter, we're both here now, all grown up, yet still in our old ways. And you should know that now I have you, you'll never be rid of me ever." You laugh at his words and shook your head.

"Oh you still have your head up your arse is it? Well you would do well to know I don't plan on leaving, We'll be residing here from now on, and you'll be seeing so much of me you'll wish you'd take your words back " You jest, wiggling your eyebrows.

He looks at you with such intensity you feel your heart speed up.

"I would never tire of you."

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Stuck storming

Pairings: Weems x R (Platonic)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: You and Weems get stuck in Burlington. Luckily Weems has somewhere for you to stay. However unluckily you get sick.

TW: flooding, sickness (like flu symptoms), prescription meds, anxiety, medicine

A/n there will be a part 2 to this but the whole thing was too long (in my opinion) to post as just one chapter/post. And I felt I needed it to be long to get in all the good stuff.

The rain smashed against the windshield and the wind blew relentlessly. You and the headmistress had been on your way back from Burlington when you got the storm warning. Principal Weems had been hoping to make it back to nevermore before the roads flooded. All the two of you had was her laptop, your sketchbook, a pencil-case, her work planner, both of your wallets with various amounts of cash and credit cards, your uniform and the clothes on your back. If you got stuck there really wasn’t too much to do until you made it back. You had left your phone in your dorm, but you were pretty sure that principal Weems had hers in the pocket of her white blazer. Luckily you had the foresight to bring a single change of mildly comfy clothes for the drive back, not eager to sit in the car for hours in your stiff uniform.

You felt bad, it was partly your fault the two of you were in this situation. It had begun when your art teacher had posed the idea to Larissa during a staff meeting to enter the best of the art classes works into the annual competition at Burlington. When she had received a call back a few weeks later she was pleasantly surprised to hear you had won. She had yet to see the artworks as she had simply given the teacher permission before she was wrapped up in work again.

As a part of the prize, the winner had their work exhibited at the art museum and the company hosted an event of their donors, other artists and art critics. It was a good way for the school to show face and even potentially scope for new donors. When Larissa had seen your artwork, a large painting of nevermore, she loved it. It was done in acrylic paints set at sunrise with the colours bouncing off the stone walls. She offered you money for it to hang in the school, but you declined saying she could have it for free as it was too large to take home with you after the school year.

Larissa had chatted idly with the other high-end members of society, and you showed face and awkwardly thanked people when they complimented your art. You honestly had no idea why you had agreed to enter, praise was not something you were very good with receiving. Larissa seemed to notice and often helped change the topic for you.

After around a stuff half hour of pleasantries and fake smiles you took your sketchbook and hid out further in the gallery to sketch. After a while Larissa came and sat with you before the event ended and you said your goodbyes. You changed in the gallery bathrooms and put your folded uniform in your backpack around your sketchbook to protect it from the rain that was starting outside. The backpack wasn’t waterproof.

However now it seemed you weren’t going to be making it back today or maybe even tomorrow. You had had a lucky run so far but coming across one of the creeks it had risen above the bridge. Effectively flooding and meaning you would have to stay in Burlington for the night. Larissa sighed.

“Sorry darling. Looks like we’re staying for the night.” She said apologetically.

“It's alright you didn’t cause the rain.” You smiled.

“I guess you're right.” She said and put the car into gear.

After the drive back you pulled into a parking lot in front of a what seemed to be an apartment complex.

“Um is this a hotel?” You asked, confused. Larissa laughed softly.

“No darling. This is my apartment.” You looked at her surprised. “I often have conferences in Burlington and so do other teachers, a few years ago we raised funds to buy and apartment so teachers could save costs and opt for something other than a stiff hotel mattress for however many nights they would be staying.”

“Cool.” You said.

“I’ll go find a park you go into the warm.” She said pulling up by the front door. You nodded and got out. Larissa went to park, and you found the door locked. With no other option you clutched your bag to your chest and stood in the rain waiting. After a few minutes Larissa came hurrying over.

“Darling? What are you doing outside still?” She asked concerned.

“L-locked” you stuttered and she mentally facepalmed, it was after five of course it was locked. She quickly put in the code and ushered you inside. You were freezing your teeth chattering and you began to worry you were going to get sick from the rain and the cold.

“Come, we need to warm you up.” The principal said and pulled you into an elevator. She pressed a button and pulled you into her side with an arm around your shoulder in an attempt to keep you warm. She ran her hand up and down the sleeve of your soaked hoodie to try and get some warmth from the friction.

After what felt like ages, the lift stopped, and Larissa put in another code. Explaining that each floor was an apartment so each level had its own code so only those who lived there could get in. After a minute a small light above the keypad went green and the door shuddered open. You stepped out after Larissa, and she turned on the light. The place was clean and very modern. White walls and grey stone bench tops. There was a kitchen with a fridge, oven and microwave which was in an open plan living room. There were ceiling to floor windows in the living room which looked out on the city below. There was a dining table and couch and a tv. Down the corridor you assumed were bedrooms, bathrooms and maybe a laundry room.

“Go hope in the shower love. First bedroom on the right. It had an ensuite. I’ll leave you some of the spare clothes i keep here on the bed for when your done and we can put those in the dryer after.” She said setting her bag down on the table. You nodded and scurried off. You left your bag just inside the bedroom door. You checked your sketchbook was ok and thanked god that you had the foresight to wrap it in your uniform, which had kept it dry.

You stripped of the soaking wet clothes which were heavy with water and stepped into the steaming shower. You shivered at the contact the warm water made with your skin. It felt amazing. Using the soap which smelt suspiciously like your principal, you also washed your hair. After a thorough shower you stepped out and towel dried your hair. Carefully opening the door wrapped only in a towel you peaked out. Just as promised, principal Weems had left you a shirt which was too big on you and fell to your mid thighs but was comfy and soft. She had also left a pair of tracksuit pants with a drawstring that you couldn’t imagine her wearing no matter how hard you tried. You put the clothes on and looked n the mirror. A bit baggy on you but you rolled up the cuffs of the pants and it was fine. You were mildly surprised to see the t-shirt was an old band t-shirt which looked like it was from the 80s based on the words on the back. “Rolling stones world tour 1987” was printed in big letters and you giggled imagining your hard-working principal dancing around in a crowd at what would have probably been a rave.

After warming yourself up, you groaned as you realised the pressure in your head wasn’t from the heat but another reason. The beginnings of a headache budded behind your eyes, and you pressed the heel of your palm to them in an attempt to stop it. You sniffled and the pressure in your sinuses grew.

“Dammit” you cursed. How were you supposed to survive in close quarters with your principal when sick? Normally you isolated yourself and looked after your own body until you were better. But you doubted you would be able to do that or hide the sickness from Larissa.

Heaving a sigh, you opened the bedroom door and wandered back into the living room. The principal was sat with a mug of hot chocolate and there was a second one on the coffee table. She was scrolling through Netflix, and you plopped down beside her. She raised a brow but didn’t comment, opting for another sip of the chocolate drink. She gestured towards the mug, and you thanked her and cradled the warm drink in your hands. Taking careful sip incase it was hot, the blissful taste of liquid chocolate smoother than silk and rich as honey flooded your mouth. You let out a small noise of content and Larissa laughed making you blush slightly.

“It's my own special stash. I keep it for after stressful conferences. I get it imported from Switzerland.” She said and you looked at her wide eyed.

“The Swedes?” You asked and she laughed again and nodded. “Well, they certainly make good chocolate. And I’m happy I get to have it again. Thank you principal weems.” You said and she smiled softly at you.

“No problem darling.” She said

“Reminds me of home.” You said with a sigh.

“How so?” She questioned after settling on a studio Ghibli film and lowering the volume to continue the conversation.

“First of,” you began “you have excellent taste in Tv. Second, despite only ever visiting Austria, it runs in my blood. I have Austrian heritage and so at home we have a lot of Austrian food. I learnt to speak German as a kid but i don’t remember to much of it, just enough to get by.” You said and she looked at you impressed.

“Germans not an easy language to learn as a kid.” She said and you shrugged.

“I guess just… you know, talking about Europe reminds me of home. Plus, I traveled across Europe with my family as a child. I’ve even been to Switzerland and tasted their fondue firsthand.” You said with a smile.

“Im jealous.” Principle weems said. “Their cheese and chocolate are what their best at.”

“Oh, and don’t i know it.” You smiled. After a natural lull in the conversation the principal turned up the volume slightly and you curled up on the couch to get comfy. Larissa spared you a glance every now and then to check on you but you seemed content.

You didn’t remember falling asleep when you woke up. But there was no better way to wake up than to the smell of pancakes. You popped your head up to look over the back of the couch into the kitchen and smiled. The principal was dancing slightly as she cooked and looked up and met your eyes, blushing slightly at being caught.

“Good morning darling.” She said flipping another of the pancakes. “You were sleeping in late so i went to the shops and got us some food. It looks like we’re not leave anytime soon.” She said and you looked to the window. The rain still coming down hard. “I’ve contacted the school and your friends to let them know we are ok. Luckily i have my laptop and it didn’t get wet so I can always work remotely. You can do whatever you want today. Other than leave the apartment.” She smiled. “Im afraid I don’t have much here to do but there’s always the Tv and i have a random assortment of stationery you can use for art.” She smiled and you nodded and rubbed tiredly at your eyes stifling a yawn.

You felt worse today. The headache had fully set in, bordering on migraine territory. Your throat felt raw, and your head felt like it was packed with a lovely sand and cotton blended concrete that would probably only be sold as a torture device in the seventh circle of hell itself. Even after rubbing the sleep from your eyes and blinking the light hurt a bit and your head was swimming. It was feeling a bit too warm in here, but you opted to ignore that and focus on the idea of food. After a minute you stood and sat at the table. Larissa came over a minute later and put down three plates. Two empty and one piled high with a stack of breakfasty goodness. She handed you a glass of apple juice and you thanked her.

After eating some of the pancakes and drowning them in the sticky syrup the principle had provided you paused eyes wide, made chew.

“Shit.” You said and the principal paused.

“Ms L/n-“ she began but you cut her off.

“I don��t have my anxiety meds with me.” You said sounding slightly panicked. Larissa paled slightly.

“Darling?” She said slowly and carefully. “What happens if you don’t take them?” She looked almost scared.

“Oh, i’ll be fine. A bit more anxious than i like to be. But fine.” You said coming to terms with it.

“Hmmm.” The principal hummed. “Are they prescription?” She asked and you nodded. “I’ll see if i can get the nurse to send a script to the local pharmacy that’s just down the road. And i’ll pick them up for you. When do you need them by?” She asked looking at her watch.

“Preferable as soon as possible but i can wait.” You said poking at the food on your plate. It seemed like the room was getting hotter and it was getting harder to downplay the congestion in your voice. The excuse of sleep was quickly running out. After another pause, she spoke again.

“I’ll grab them after breakfast then.” She said, “do you want to come with?” The principal asked and you knew saying no would either be rude or suspicious, so you nodded. After you had eaten the uncomfortable heat had seemingly only gotten worse. You were speaking less now, and you felt principal Weems’s stare burning into your back as you watched the rain from the couch as she washed up. You knew she was getting a little suspicious now and the sickness was getting harder to hide.

After putting the dishes away, freshly hand dried and scrubbed Larissa came over to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder she frowned at the heat coming from you, but you quickly turned around and spoke before she could.

“Ready to go?” You asked hoping to sound more put together than you felt.

“Sure. Let me grab my car keys.” She said and decided to let the matter go for now. She grabbed an umbrella and the two of you went down to the car.

For some reason even the car was hot. When the principal wasn’t looking you pressed your overly hot forehead to the cool glass of the window and sighed slightly. However sneaky you thought you were being; you weren’t. Simple as that. The principal had been around more than enough stubborn teenagers to know when they were sick. Pulling into the chemist she unbuckled at reached over to press her hand to your cheek. Your eyes were closed so you jumped slightly at the unexpected contact. She clicked her tongue and sighed.

“Darling why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” She asked, her tone was gentle but stern. You turned to look at her alarmed which she thought was strangely endearing. Your cheeks held the flushed pink of a fever, and your eyes were growing glassy.

“I-i didn’t want to make you worry about me.” You admitted softly and she sighed.

“Darling it’s my job. And i also care about you.” She said softly. “I’ll pick up some medicine and supplies while I’m in the pharmacy. You stay here and hold down the fort.” She said and you hummed, placing your face against the glass again, eyes fluttering shut. The principal frowned; she had been expecting to have to fight you on it. Concerned she made a mental note to be quick.

MASTERLIST

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Do That (Mikko Rantanen)

Sorry I’m late! I got in a car accident, so I had to deal with that. Anyway, this is my fic for @kurlyteuvo for @wyattjohnston ‘s summer fic exchange! I feel like I could have written another 10k words of this, but alas, I didn’t have the time. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: T

Pairing: Mikko Rantanen/fem!reader

Words: 7789

Warnings: children involved (not the reader’s)

Summary: Reader meets Mikko at the park and things go from there

It was a one-in-a-million coincidence to meet him, but you’ve never been so grateful for a chance encounter.

Here’s how it happened:

You have a tradition of spending your days off at Skyline Park, reading or knitting or just enjoying the sunshine. It was a pleasant September afternoon, the fall chill having yet to set in. The sun was bright, the breeze not too strong. You were sitting on a bench, reading a new book your friend had recommended, a few dozen pages in.

Suddenly, someone was an inch away from you, making your head fly up in surprise. The person skipped and twisted, avoiding falling into you at the last second. He paused for only a second, throwing out a quick “sorry” before he continued his jog. There was no time to respond, having barely processed what was happening before he was gone.

You’re not sure if that really counts as your first meeting, since only one word was exchanged, but it had been the first time you’d interacted at all. You’d been more vigilant that day, waiting for someone to misjudge their footing and crash into you. Nothing of the sort had happened, but in looking up at every passing runner, you’d seen him three more times as he lapped the park. Those passes gave you time to look at him more closely, and the shock had hit.

The man who had almost fallen on you was tall and muscular, with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes. You’d seen his face on TV a hundred times, in replays and promos. Because the man was Mikko Rantanen.

Luckily, the awe had faded by the end of the day. There was an odd embarrassment in its place, despite having done nothing wrong. Whatever, you’d decided. It’s not like you were ever going to see him again.

Except you did.

Most times you went to the park, it was just a flow of regular people, nameless faces passing by. This time, you had been drawing. The scenery was beautiful, the architecture perfect for sketching. You were focusing on the concrete sculpture across the pathway, trying to get the lines perfect, trying to capture the look of joy on a little boy’s face as he climbed all over the boxes.

Just as you looked up from your sketchbook, he had passed by. Your eyes had met, and it sent a jolt through you that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was simply because he was beautiful, the yellow-white sunlight making his hair glow like a wild halo. Maybe it was because he had been looking at you already, as if he recognized you despite the two weeks that had passed.

Again, you’d looked up at every passing runner that day, catching sight of him four more times. Your gazes met every time. You couldn’t explain the feeling, the way it seemed like he was looking for you, like he was searching for something in your eyes.

The third time, you were almost expecting it. Hoping for it, definitely. You had checked the Avs’s schedule that morning, seeing that they were off at home. With that knowledge, you brought along your sketchbook. You always saw him at around the same time, so you started on a new book to kill time until then.

When he makes his first pass, you switch to your sketchbook. It’s a little cloudy today, the fall having taken hold, weakening the sun and making the wind crisper. He goes by and you start sketching. It’s hard to get the features just right when you’ve only seen him in passing, so you give in and look up some references on your phone. He crosses in front of you again, and you do your best to take in the way the cloud’s shadows deepen on his face, carve out his features in stark relief.

He hadn’t looked at you on the second lap, and he doesn’t look on the third either. You’re a little put out, because this is the day that you want him to look the most. Nevertheless, you keep working on your art, filling the page with carefully shaded pencil sketches of his face at different angles. You’ve always been better at drawing nature and inanimate objects, but you think you get his likeness down pretty well. He doesn’t look on the fourth lap.

You had gotten distracted by working on the line of his jaw, tweaking it until it sloped just right, when a shadow fell over you. You looked up, thinking that the weather had turned quickly, as it’s wont to do. You didn’t want to get rained on, especially when working with paper.

Instead, it had been Mikko, standing a foot or two away. His gaze wasn’t piercing, really, but it felt like it dug into your core anyway. He stared; you stared back.

“Oh, um,” you said finally, sitting up a little straighter, “Hi.” A small smile had turned the corner of his lips at that.

“Hi,” he replied, going quiet again, as if he was waiting for something. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do in this situation, not used to interacting with strangers. Let alone very famous, very handsome strangers.

“How’s your run going?” you ask, grasping for anything to say. His smile grows with the words.

“It’s good,” he says, eyes flicking down to your lap before coming back to rest on your own, “How’s your drawing?” It’s then that you realize the sketchbook is sitting face-up on your lap, your work fully visible to him. A furious blush heats your cheeks immediately, his smile blossoming fully.

“Uh,” you say, eloquently.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird,” you apologize quickly, worried that he may think you’re some kind of stalker, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He chuckles, shaking his head a little. The corners of his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“It’s not weird,” he replied easily, motioning to the book, “They’re really good.” You swallow hard, still nervous. At least he doesn’t think you’re some kind of weirdo, probably.

“Thank you,” you say. Words evade you after that, and there’s a short pause. He extends his hand toward you, huge palm open.

“I’m Mikko,” he said, still smirking. You took his hand, letting it nearly envelop your own as you shook it.

“I’m Y/N,” you officially introduce yourself. His shiny white teeth peek out from between his lips.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. And that’s how it started.

After that, he had taken to sitting with you for a while after his run, listening to your stories and updates and sharing his own. Your schedules didn’t always align, but you got to see him at least every few weeks. Quickly, that wasn’t enough. You were fascinated by him, by the way you felt so comfortable with him so quickly, with the way it was so easy to open up to him in a way you rarely did with others. You wanted to be around him all the time. It scared you.

You feared you were becoming infatuated with him, that your brain was latching onto a pretty stranger to distract from something. You were terrified that you would put him on a pedestal, would convince yourself you were falling for him, only to break your own heart.

Over time, it became clear that that wasn’t what was happening. Yes, you wanted to spend all your time with him. But you didn’t neglect responsibilities or other friends to do so. You stuck to your encounters in the park, not pushing for anything more. You felt safe around him, but not because you deluded yourself into it. You felt safe because you had been vulnerable with him, and he had shown over and over again that it was okay to do so. It was easy to open up with him, but you didn’t feel the need to spill your entire life and all of your secrets to him. You were a little obsessed with him, but it was a soft, happy, fond kind of obsession. It didn’t interfere with your life, only added to it.

The pattern continued for months, the two of you even meeting up in the dead of winter, clearing snow off of the bench to huddle together against the cold. The spring is welcome when it finally comes, though it brought buckets of rain along. You would take walks together, Mikko holding a big red umbrella just above your heads.

Usually, you welcome the warmth and light of early summer. When it started to arrive that year, you dreaded it. You knew Mikko would be going back to Finland for the summer, and you didn’t look forward to being alone again. He told you ahead of time when he’d be leaving, and you couldn’t help but count down the days you had left.

The last day you’d get to see him, there was a solemn air surrounding your interactions. You presented him with a going-away gift, a light grey cable-knit hat. He’d have no use for it during the summer, but it would help during the hockey season. And maybe you’d been afraid that you’d never see him again, that he would go away for months and forget all about you, and you wanted to give him a memento. And even if the memory of who gave it to him faded, you’d still be able to keep him warm in the vicious winters.

He’d thanked you profusely, hugging you tight. You tucked your face into his neck, trying to imprint the smell and feel of his skin into your brain. He pulled it on immediately, heedless of the hot sun beating down on him.

When it came time to part ways, he slipped you a neatly folded piece of paper. Please use it, he had said, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before departing. You had watched him go, your forehead tingling from his touch. When you unfolded the paper, you were met with twelve numbers. The format isn’t familiar, but the plus sign at the beginning and the note underneath reading text me make it clear that it’s a phone number. Under the note, there’s a username as well, with Whatsapp scribbled next to it. You’d tucked the note into your sketchbook, slipping it into your backpack. Your heart had sung and beat off-rhythm the entire way home.

With a line of communication open, the floodgates opened. You were able to message any time you wanted, working around the nine hour time difference. Even when one of you was asleep, you’d leave messages for the other to read when they woke. It still wasn’t ideal, but when he sent you pictures of him and his dog, he didn’t feel so far away.

His return to Denver was highly anticipated. You’d agreed to meet at the park two days after he landed. The first thing he did when he saw you was wrap you up in a tight hug, twisting you side to side like his happiness made it impossible to stand still. You had squeezed back, as hard as you could.

A month into the season, he had invited you out with some of his teammates to celebrate a win, and that had been the beginning of the current era. It was the first time you had seen him outside of the park, the first time he’d introduced you to some of the other people in his life. It had broken the seal, and the next invitation had solidified the knowledge that he wanted you to be a part of his life, too.

Another year passed, the two of you growing almost unbearably close. He came to your apartment after tough losses, holding you close under the covers of your bed for comfort, nearing the line between platonic and something else. You never crossed it, though, even when you laid between his legs on the couch, when he FaceTimed you every night on the road, when you fell asleep with your face smushed into the crook of his neck so much that you were imprinted with his scent upon waking.

Then, your sister-in-law has a baby.

It’s her and your brother’s third child, a beautiful little girl named Rose. You go to the hospital the second they’ll allow you, begging out of work early. You congratulate your brother and sister, talking for a little while you wait for the nurses to bring Rose back from wherever they’ve taken her. If you tear up a little the first time you hold her, well, no one else needs to know.

The next day, your brother invites you over that weekend to see all of the kids, and you excitedly accept. It’s been a little while since you’ve seen the other little ones, and the promise of getting to play with them carries you through the rest of the week. Even when your boss gets on your ass to finish a report a week before it’s due, you’re soothed by the thought.

On Friday, you get a text from Mikko. Well, you get texts from him every day, but this is the important one. He only has practice on Saturday, so he asks if you want to hang out afterward. You always do, hell, you want to spend all of your time with him. Unfortunately, he wants to get a late lunch together, and that’s when you’re supposed to be at your brother’s. Something holds you back from saying no immediately, the gears in your head turning.

Half an hour and a text from your brother later, you finally respond to Mikko. The proposition is this: you can spend time together, but he has to come to your brother’s with you. It’s a long shot, since he’s only met your siblings once, but you want to have your cake and eat it too.

You’re surprised when he responds less than thirty seconds later, just the word “yes” in all caps, with three exclamation points for emphasis. Beyond the surprise, there’s something about his eager certainty that warms your heart.

The decision to invite him had been mostly impulsive, but as soon as you see his face at your apartment door, you know it was the right one. His smile is wide and bright, buried in your hair as he hugs you in greeting. You grab your bag from the hook on the inside of the door and head out. The drive isn’t exactly short, but traffic isn’t too terrible at this time of day, so it’s not as bad as it could be.

It also helps that Mikko spends the drive alternating between talking and singing, turning the music up when a song he likes comes on, then turning it back down so he can continue regaling you with stories. He’s not a great vocalist, but his enthusiasm and joy more than make up for it. You keep glancing over at him, loving the way the sun turns his hair golden, messed up into a shining halo around his head.

Derek meets you at the door when you arrive, wrapping you up in a hug. He gives Mikko a quick once-over before shaking his hand. Mikko thanks him for allowing him to tag along, always polite. Luckily, neither Derek nor Heather watch hockey, so you don’t have to worry about any fannish behavior.

He leads you around the corner into the family room, eyes softening as soon as he sees Heather on the couch with Rose in her arms. It’s sickeningly sweet. Briar and Florian run to you immediately, shouting your name and latching onto your legs.

You bend over a little to run a hand through their hair, urging them to step back so you can plant kisses on their foreheads. Their smiles are brighter than the sun, and they both start telling you about their days, talking over each other. You laugh, hauling them up, one in each arm. They keep talking as you make your way to the couch, sitting next to Heather and kissing her cheek.

After a minute of the kids’ chatter, you remember that Mikko is here, still standing awkwardly at the edge between the kitchen and family room. You beckon him over, patting the spot next to you. He sits, and Briar crawls into your lap, never having been a fan of strangers. He curls up, turned away from Mikko with his face hidden in your chest. Florian’s speech about preschool has stopped, and he’s staring at Mikko like he’s trying to figure out what to do. After a few seconds, he climbs over your lap, balancing with one knee on your leg and the other on the couch, reaching around Briar to shove a hand toward Mikko.

“Oh,” Mikko says, taking Florian’s hand and shaking it twice, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mikko.” Florian nods, brow furrowed like he’s investigating the odd man his aunt brought.

“I’m Florian,” he introduces, “That’s a weird name.” Mikko lets out a startled laugh at that, but doesn’t seem offended.

“I’m from a different country,” Mikko explains, “So we have different names.” Florian thinks for a second, then nods again, resolute.

“Are you Aunt Y/N’s boyfriend?” he asks. You say his name, ready to chastise him for asking inappropriate questions. Mikko speaks first.

“No,” he says, shrugging, “But we are really good friends.” This seems to be a sufficient answer for Florian. He crawls out of your lap and over Mikko’s, sitting cross-legged on the couch facing him.

“What’s your favorite dinosaur?” he asks, bringing a smile to both Mikko and your faces. Mikko angles himself slightly toward Florian, engaging fully with the conversation. You’re relieved that Florian seems to like Mikko, especially because that means Briar will have an easier time warming up to him. Briar trusts Florian’s intuition, so he’ll give someone a chance if Flo likes them, but will never get anywhere near someone he doesn’t approve of.

You turn back to Heather and she hands Rose over without you even having to ask, physically moving Briar into her own lap so you have space. Briar doesn’t mind, just cuddling into his mom’s arms.

As you and Heather talk, Flo dismounts the couch and Mikko stands, following him around the room as Flo tells him about all his toys. After the tour, they sit on the floor together, Flo showing Mikko how one works. For his part, Mikko does a fantastic job of seeming interested, nodding and humming and asking questions to encourage him to continue. It’s incredibly cute.

Eventually, Flo moves on to a different toy. This one is Briar’s absolute favorite, you know, but you’re still surprised when he plops down to the floor to go join the other boys. He still doesn’t say much, but he does give little comments in his quiet, lispy voice.

“He’s good with kids,” Heather says when she catches you watching them for too long, giving you a sly look. You can feel a little heat rush to your face, biting your lip.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking back down at Rose’s sleeping face, “Didn’t know that.” Heather chuckles, but returns the conversation back to its previous topic. You’re grateful, not wanting to think too much about the feelings that have started pressing at the edges of your consciousness the past few months.

After some more gabbing, Briar comes over to tug at your pant leg. You turn your gaze to him, filled with love at the sight of his chubby face. He points toward the stairs, then starts walking over to them. You pass Rose back over to Heather, your knees creaking when you stand. Briar has stopped halfway to the stairs, staring back at Mikko and Flo. After a moment of deliberation, he goes back over, face determined as he tugs on Mikko’s sleeve. Once he has his attention, Briar points to the stairs again. Mikko seems surprised but stands anyway, letting the little boy lead him upstairs.

It takes a second to shake your shock, but you follow along. There are very few people Briar feels comfortable taking up to his room, and you hadn’t expected him to decide Mikko should be added to that list. Especially so quickly.

Since you’re a few steps behind them, Briar has already climbed up onto his bed by time you get to the doorway. You watch as he grabs one of his stuffed animals and gives it to Mikko, telling him the stuffie’s name and the backstory he’s created for them. Mikko offers it back once Briar has finished speaking, and it gets exchanged for the next. Seeing Mikko kneeling next to the bed, knees surely aching, paying rapt attention to every word Briar says… something grows in your chest that’s far too soft to not be a threat to your sanity.

Briar beckons you over when he gets to the last stuffed animal, the only one you don’t recognize. You join Mikko on the floor, leaning into his side while you listen to the story Briar has come up with for the newest addition to his collection.

Once he’s finished, the three of you go back downstairs. Heather is standing now, rocking Rose back and forth in her arms. Mikko steps up to her, but keeps a respectful distance as he admires the baby, complimenting both her and Heather. Flo pulls at Mikko’s pant leg, dragging him away and through the glass door into the back yard. The rest of you follow, Derek reappearing from his office to join.

Flo and Mikko are running around in an instant, playing a two-person game of tag. It doesn’t take long for Briar to join, and Heather gives Rose to Derek so she can follow. You want to play too, but Derek sidles up to you. You don’t get much time to talk to him, so you pass up on tag to sit in the lounge chairs with him.

He’s been working on a few tough cases lately, but obviously can’t tell you much about them. Attorney-client privilege and all that. He talks vaguely about work, before switching to the family news. He mentions your little brother getting a new job, a good one, and laughs when he realizes Matt had forgotten to tell you.

“What does Mikko do?” he asks. You probably should’ve expected the question, but you didn’t.

“He, uh,” you hesitate, “He plays for the Avalanche.” Derek’s eyes widen at that, surprised and impressed.

“That’s pretty cool,” he says, looking to Mikko, “How did you two meet?” He looks back to you expectantly, and it hits you all at once that the way you’d met was kind of insane. A complete stranger came up to you, and you had not only started talking to him, but had accepted his number and used it. Stranger danger is real, and you’d overlooked the concept because… why?

“We met at the park,” you explain, not interested in going into details, “He almost ran into me when he was running, and. Well.” It’s written plain on Derek’s face that he wants to ask a thousand more questions, but he holds himself back. That’s one thing you’ve always loved about him: he knows when not to ask.

“Are you dating?” he asks, eyes focusing in so he doesn’t miss any part of your reaction.

“No, we’re just friends,” you reply, waving a hand dismissively. Derek looks skeptical, readjusting in his chair. You want to look away from his piercing gaze, but he has this magnetism that prevents it. It’s always been kind of freaky, the way he reads people.

“Do you want to be dating?” he asks. You know he sees the way your throat moves as you swallow hard, the way your eyes dart to Mikko for the barest second. You should say no, but something stops you. You’d never really thought about it, more than grateful to just be Mikko’s friend. Your friends had joked about it, of course, but there’s something different about Derek asking. The way he asks so seriously forces you to consider it, to review everything you know about Mikko, trying to find an answer you had anticipated would be obvious.

“Okay,” Derek nods, bouncing Rose the tiniest bit when she starts to babble. He changes the subject, telling you some story about your uncle that you don’t really care about. Unfortunately, your mind is stuck on it now, trying to imagine what dating Mikko would be like, trying to decide if that’s something you’d want.

Not that it would matter if you did, because Mikko will never see you that way. You know the kind of woman hockey players go for, and you’re not it. You don’t have a business or some fancy degree, you aren’t charismatic and congenial. You’re not a trophy. Maybe a fourth place ribbon, if that. Mikko is going to find some beautiful, talented, lovely woman to love, and there’s no point in musing over dating him.

Except he comes over, and Derek effortlessly hands him Rose without even having to ask, and you realize. Seeing him hold her so carefully, the look of adoration he has for a baby he has no connection to, makes something click into place. Which is probably the worst thing that could’ve happened.

As much as you try to focus and be present for the remainder of the visit, you find yourself drifting. It’s not really the baby thing. Hell, you’re not even sure if you want kids. It’s the fact that it’s your niece, your nephews, all comfortable around him, immediately welcoming him in. It’s the fact that Heather is overly protective of her little ones, and yet had no protests about Mikko holding Rose, letting him keep her as long as he wanted. It’s Briar plopping down in front of the chair Mikko sits in, leaning back against his leg in a way you’ve never seen him do.

When it comes time to go, you hug each of the boys tightly, before kissing Rose’s head. You give a matching kiss to Heather’s cheek, and Derek squeezes you tight afterward. Then you watch Flo and Briar hug Mikko of their own volition. You watch Heather lean forward to kiss his cheek as you had hers. You watch Mikko duck down to place a kiss on Rose’s forehead, so carefully, so gently. You watch him shake Derek’s hand, some type of look passing between them.

The drive home is much the same as the drive there, though you know you’re smiling and laughing less at Mikko’s stories than usual, too lost in your thoughts to be a good audience. When you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, he’s already looking back, concern turning the corners of his lips down.

The plan had been to have dinner together after the trip, but you can’t find it in yourself to be in public. Instead, you retreat to your apartment, begging out of the meal with the excuse of a headache. It’s not completely an excuse, because you do have a headache, but it’s more what’s causing the headache that’s making you want to curl up under the covers in your dark room. Luckily, Mikko doesn’t argue much, seemingly knowing something is wrong and not wanting to intrude.

You lie in bed for a while, the blankets pulled up over your head. Sometimes your brain gets stuck on something, turns it over and over in your mind, won’t let you escape the cycle. It had started with He’s great with the boys, My family loves him, Oh my god do I love him? At some point it had switched, I want him around always, He’ll never love someone like me, Oh my god I’m in love with him.

You’re in love with him.

And that’s the sticking point. That’s where all the problems begin and end. You’d taken a chance on a stranger, it had worked out, and now you’re going to ruin it all with your stupid feelings. You know what you have to do, but you’re not sure you can manage it. Obviously, you can’t tell him. It would make things weird, and you’d lose him, either slowly or all at once. So you have to pretend. You wonder if you can, and if so, how long you can keep it up. Can you pretend forever?

By the grace of whatever deity may or not be above, you don’t have work the next day. Sundays are when you have a standing date with your best friend. Despite wanting to keep hiding in bed, you get up and ready, sighing before you step out the door.

Jackie looks lovely, as always, wearing a sundress and leggings to enjoy one of the first warm days of the season. Being around her always makes you feel underdressed, but you know she’d never judge you for your jeans and button-up. You hold her for a couple extra seconds when you hug hello, breathing in the smell of her perfume to calm yourself.

You mean to bring up the Mikko situation, you really do. There’s just no appropriate time to segue into it. Instead, you talk about work and family and Jackie’s new apartment. It’s pleasant, and you don’t want to ruin that. You try to convince yourself that this is what you need, some time with someone you love, away from your thoughts. You know better.

The two of you take a walk after lunch, Jackie’s kitten heels clicking on the pavement. The trail is short, winding through the trees surrounding the restaurant. Despite your inability to find a way to bring it up, Jackie takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to ask about Mikko. She gives you a sly look when she does, and it makes your stomach turn. Of all the people who joke about you and Mikko being in love, Jackie is the most frequent offender. You’re already mentally preparing for the teasing, squaring your shoulders and biting the inside of your cheek.

“He’s good,” you reply, already queasy. It must come across in your words or body language that something is off, because Jackie stops dead in her tracks. You stop a couple steps ahead of her, turning to look at her. She examines you, her big brown eyes surely seeing right through you.

“Oh honey,” she says, eyes going soft. Her mouth pulls in a tight, pitying line, one side of her lips tipped upward just enough to show a level of affection. Her brow is furrowed, her head slightly tilted.

“You realized, didn’t you?” she asks, taking a step toward you. You feel your cheeks heat, and your eye twitches the way it always does when you want to cry. Most of what she’s said about you and Mikko has been jokes, but it would seem that she knew about your feelings before you did.

“I’m in love with him,” you whisper. Saying it out loud is simultaneously relieving and overwhelming. It’s out there in the world now. It’s real.

“Honey,” Jackie says again, taking the second step necessary to pull you close. You cling to her, willing your wet eyes not to spill. She keeps one arm around your torso, the other coming up so she can put her hand on the back of your head, encouraging the way you’re burying your face in her neck. She presses a firm kiss to your hair, making your breath hitch. You focus on breathing, four seconds in, seven seconds out. You’re okay, you tell yourself, you’re okay.

“You’re never going to tell him, are you?” she asks, the still-fresh hurt rising up to fill your chest, to crowd out your lungs. It’s not really a question, and you know she already knows the answer. You’ve been friends since your teenage years; she knows you too well. You keep breathing, ignoring the way the air stutters in and out.

“I can’t ruin it,” you reply. The cosmic stroke of luck that brought Mikko into your life is too unlikely and wonderful to give up. You can’t bear the thought of losing him, this wonderful person who makes you feel seen and heard and understood.

“Okay,” Jackie says into your hair. You loosen your hold on her and she lets you go, still looking almost as heartbroken as you feel. She’s always been too empathetic when it comes to you, feeling your emotions so strongly that they become her own. It mixes with her protective nature, wanting to find solutions for all your problems, wanting to stop any hurt the second it starts. You love that about her, but still feel guilty that you’re hurting her, even unintentionally.

“I get it, and I’m not going to pressure you,” she says, giving you a heavy look, “But I think you should tell him. You don’t have to, but I think it’ll go better than you’re expecting.” It’s not unexpected. While most people joke about you and Mikko dating because they think the way you interact is funny, Jackie does it because she really believes you should be together. It’s been a subtle encouragement, hidden with smirks and laughs. Of course she would think you should tell him.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply, though it’s mostly to appease her. You’ve already thought of telling him, anyway, and the reactions you imagine are the reason you’re not going to do it. After a pause, Jackie gently shoves your shoulder with her fingers.

“You have a crush,” she sing-songs, smiling. The childishness of the action makes you smile in return, the air around you losing some of its weight.

“Oh, so you want to talk about Cale?” you ask rhetorically, pushing her in return. She groans dramatically at the mention of her own crush. It makes you laugh, remembering the way she’d gone shy and speechless when she’d met him. The rest of the afternoon is much less serious, and for the thousandth time, you’re grateful for her.

Somehow, the conversation makes it easier to be around Mikko. At least you have someone who knows what’s going on and supports you, rather than being alone in your feelings. He’d gone on a roadie after your visit to your brother’s, so you can’t be physically close to him for another week, but your nightly video chats are less awkward than that first day. The more you talk to him, the more you’re able to return to the friendly spirit you’ve cultivated over time.

When he comes home, you spend a night cuddled up on the couch watching a new show. His touch had almost burned when he pulled you close, but it subsides and you’re able to settle into him. When it’s late enough that you’re both trading yawns, he urges you up from the couch, leaving the snack bowls to be taken care of in the morning. He ushers you into the bedroom, assuming that you’ll stay the night without having to ask.

You’ve done it a hundred times, but it’s different this time. He shucks off his shirt easy as anything, stripping down to his boxers with a complete lack of embarrassment. Logically, you know it’s probably because he gets fully naked in a room full of other people on an almost daily basis, but you’re not one of the guys, and he doesn’t seem to mind anyway. Part of you thinks it’s a display of trust and comfort. Another part of you thinks it’s a sign that he doesn’t view you as any different from his teammates, that he sees you so platonically that the implications of being nearly naked in front of you could never mean anything.

Lying in bed together isn’t too different than usual, luckily. Yeah, you’re thinking of how much you want to fall asleep with his arms around you every night, but it’s not overwhelming. The room is dark and quiet when he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, sending sparks down your spine.

“Is everything okay with Derek?” he asks, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the whir of the fan. The mention of your brother reminds you of that day and you tense, knowing he can feel it. His tone is too grave for the question to just be checking in, so he knows something is wrong.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. The fact that he asked specifically about Derek means that he’d noticed the change in your demeanor after the conversation on the back patio. Asking about it a week later means he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. You’d hoped that he would forget, or that acting normally tonight would keep him from asking. But Mikko never seems to forget anything when it comes to you.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks after a pause. That’s the last thing you want him thinking, so you thread your fingers with his and squeeze.

“No,” you say simply, firmly. You’re not going to let your own issues make him feel guilty or insecure. There’s another short pause before Mikko speaks again.

“Are you sure?” he asks, adding, “You can tell me.” You’ve told him before when he’d messed up, so you already know you could. But that’s not what’s happened, and you’re not sure why he’s convinced it is. You release his hand, wiggling a bit as you roll over to face him. The moonlight filtering in around the edge of the curtains is just enough to make out the outline of his features, his light eyes silvery with it.

“Mikko,” you say his name for emphasis, “You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise.” He doesn’t say anything, just looking at you. It kills you that he doesn’t believe you. You curve one hand around his cheek, tilting his head down so you can kiss his forehead. You nudge his face back up to force him to look at you, repeating the sentence in Finnish. You still don’t speak much, but you at least know how to say this. Finns don’t say things they don’t mean, so you hope he takes it as the reassurance it’s meant to be.

“When did you learn Finnish?” he asks, startled off topic. You give a little laugh. Maybe this will distract him from his clearly morbid thoughts.

“I started studying when I met you,” you answer. You don’t mention that you’ve already completed all the lessons Duolingo offers, and may have spent actual money on a real lesson program.

“Oh,” he says, pauses, asks, “So nothing is wrong?” He sounds less grim than before, so you’ll count this as a success.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you confirm. The conversation ends when he replies okay, and you feel like you should turn back over, but something in his expression stops you. There’s some other question there, one he’s debating on asking. Turning away might keep him from doing so, so you stay in place. The silence hangs between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Why are you learning Finnish?” he asks. You shrug as best you can while lying down.

“So you have someone to talk to when you miss home,” you reply. Being so far away takes its toll on Mikko, and there are no other Finns on the team, so you want him to be able to have at least a little comfort sometimes. You’d intended to keep it a secret until you were conversational, but this seems like a good reason to out yourself.

Again, there’s something in his face telling you that there’s more he wants to say, something stuck right behind his front teeth begging to be let out. You wait patiently, but he just takes a deep breath and says thank you. That’s where the conversation really ends, and you fall asleep with your head tucked under his chin.

After that, it’s your turn to think something is wrong. Mikko isn’t known for being a quiet or pensive person, but this thing keeps happening with increasing frequency. The two of you will be doing something innocuous when he’ll freeze, gaze fixed on you in some inscrutable emotion, sometimes something akin to fear. The idea of him being afraid when he’s around you doesn’t sit right, and you do your best to figure out what about you is suddenly scaring him.

You try to take note of what you’re doing when it happens, thinking that maybe there will be a common thread you can pluck out. Once, it happens when he comes home from a game and you present him with his favorite dish, a recipe you’d used your limited Finnish skills to get from his mother. Another time, you’re meeting him in the hall after a game, wearing the jersey he’d given you with his name plastered across the back. Other times included looking up to him from your sketchbook when you were at the park together, him coming home from a roadie to find that you’d gotten groceries for him, even just sitting on the couch together watching a movie.

There’s no specific action tied to the reaction that you can find. It’s always preceded by the same look, though. You’ll meet his eyes, his face will go slack, the corners of his mouth turning up just the slightest bit, his eyes bright and hazy. His mouth will part slightly, and then the surprise and fear will overtake him.

For the most part, you’ve tried to ignore it, but you know you’ll end up asking him eventually if it continues. You’re pretty sure it’s going to happen again tonight, because you’re in the middle of spooning some sauce over chicken breasts for him to eat when he gets home, one of his favorite comfort shows queued up on the TV to soothe him after tonight’s loss. It happens a lot after losses, so it’s reasonable to expect at this point.

He calls your name as he comes through the front door and you announce your presence in the kitchen. He sidles up behind you as you plate the food, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head. He compliments the smell of the food and you pat his forearm twice in greeting, thanking him and finishing your task surrounded by his warmth.

You carry both plates into the living room, giggling at the way Mikko shuffles along with you, refusing to relinquish his hold. After you place your handful down on the coffee table, you gently headbutt him to tell him to let go. He doesn’t, so you wiggle a little, making him laugh. He still won’t let go, so you start prying at his fingers, but he’s too strong, and then you’re both laughing. You whine his name through it, and he finally relents. You turn around to look at him for the first time since he’d come in and the look is there: that soft, fond look you’re tempted to call besotted.

You enjoy this part while you can, the clear blue of his eyes halfway overtaken by his pupils, the gentlest of smiles on his lips, the ever-so-slight tilt of his head. You only get it for a couple of seconds before his mouth begins to part, ushering in the dreaded terror.

“Why do you do that?” you ask before you’ve consciously decided to. You’d intended to wait to ask, to see if it persisted first, but it bothers you more than you care to admit. You never want to make Mikko feel anything negative. Maybe if you know what you’re doing to trigger the reaction, you can stop it.

“Do what?” he asks in return. He looks genuinely confused, his strong brow furrowed. At least he doesn’t look afraid anymore.

“Sometimes you seem so scared when you look at me,” you explain, reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, running your thumb along his cheek, “What am I doing wrong?” It’s probably not the best time to bring it up, right after a home loss, but you’ve already started. May as well get your answer.

“Nothing,” he replies, insistent, “You’re not doing anything wrong.” He takes a half-step forward, resting one hand on your hip and the other on the side of your neck. His touch is gentle, but it helps ground you.

“Then why?” you implore, suddenly desperate to know. There has to be something you can do, something you can change to stop this.

“I just–” he begins, inhales sharply, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” Typically, you love it when he calls you pet names, but it feels compensatory here, like he’s trying to make up for not giving you an answer. But you need an answer, need to know what’s gone wrong.

“Mikko,” you say his name quietly, as softly as you can manage, “Please tell me.” He hesitates, conflict writ across his face.

“Please,” you repeat, searching his eyes for something, anything. The two contrasting expressions you’ve been agonizing over return, mixing on his face. His mouth quirked in a tiny smile, his brow furrowed, his eyes dilated, somewhere between affection and apprehension. He takes a deep breath. You wait.

“You make it so hard not to tell you that I love you,” he finally says.

Okay. That’s– okay.

That’s definitely a love confession, right? There’s no way anyone could think otherwise, but your brain is trying to find another angle. The dissonance is strong, the statement going against everything you’ve convinced yourself of for months. Guys like Mikko don’t go for girls like you, except apparently they do, because he’s saying he loves you. You can feel how stupid you look, face slack with shock as you just stare at him. Mikko loves you.

It must take you too long to respond, because he starts to step away, his hands falling from your body. Your free hand flies up to grab his shoulder, holding him in place. He could pull out of the grip easily, but he doesn’t, standing stock-still and waiting.

“You should do that,” you say. Your mind is starting to shift, to push past all the bullshit you’ve been telling yourself, to take in what he’s saying and maybe, just maybe, starting to believe.

“Do what?” he asks. Your chest is tight, a smile beginning to pull at your lips.

“Tell me that you love me,” you reply. The short, disbelieving laugh Mikko lets out is the second best thing you’ve ever heard. Because the best thing you’ve ever heard is when he takes your face in his hands, looks deep in your eyes, and says:

“I love you.”

[shoyastars]

A Star Celebration

Hiya!!!~ welcome to the nsfw fanfic for today because! ITS RAY’S BIRTHDAY!!!! April 30th is our best man’s birthday!

Old man turning 33 hehe! >:D

Anyways I got a bit inspired off of @argyre169

Wonderful fanfic… ✨☕️👀

AHEM! I hope you all enjoy this cup of tea oh! Be warned this is an Nsfw version not a sfw, and I might be a bit rusty I have written nsfw before, but back then I was all “hehehe totally do that and this!” Without really thinking what the character would cannonlly do, OH RIGHT! Be sure that Ray isn’t my character, they belong to ConcreteParasite! Who made an absolutely beautiful and amazing game. Go check it out if you’re 18 or older it’s intended for 18 and up, if you’re a minor, GET OUT OF HERE!! We ain’t getting the creator or the game in trouble today you got that?

This will be an oc x character sooo yeah.. >:)

✨But anyways, Happy Birthday Ray!✨

Let’s begin!

Mistin knew today was a special day, it was Ray’s birthday. That and it’s been everywhere on social media as of late. Unfortunately due to the NAHA knowing today’s a special day for ‘Binary Star’ Ray was called into work. However Mistin wouldn’t allow this chance to go to waste, they decided to make something special for him, he’s probably able to buy anything he wants due to his usual hero work, So Mistin got out some stuff and started sketching, painting and putting in final touches, when they were done they smiled at the work they’ve done. Mistin looked at the time, Ray still wasn’t home yet. That’s when they had the idea to try and make something, sure they’re cooking skills weren’t as good as his but they could try. They weren’t sure if it will work out in their favor, but they weren’t going to give up so easily, they’ve been in the villain world and got out barely with a scratch….. well… almost without a scratch… but hey what’s the worst that could happen?

.

.

.

“Gah! Geez how many times am I gonna make things fall over today.” Mistin caught the baking powder before if fell, due to it being on the edge. Mistin didn’t think about how much of a hassle baking was for them, especially doing it right… Mistin wasn’t sure how long they were in they’re apartment’s kitchen for… (Ahem 6 hours) they tried to think of what Ray would like or try finding a recipe, heck even perfecting it… it was honestly hard for them not to feel nervous they might screw up horribly…. Even causing them to trip and knock things over… luckily they didn’t fall with anything in hand so far.

Mistin groaned in frustration as they weren’t sure if they were going to get it done at all correctly without messing up, they were confident in their skills but however when it comes down to something they can’t determine will go badly wrong or perfectly right. They never cared this much before so why now? Well…. It’s because Ray gave them the chance to love romantically again… not to mention how they were able to set boundaries, discover and experience some thing’s normal couples do at least…. But most importantly…. Actually feel loved and not used like…. They’re last relationship….

They shake they’re head to snap out of they’re thoughts and focus, if anything it won’t be perfect but it’s decent at least they hope. Soon Mistin would be so wrapped up in Theyre own little cooking mayhem that they wouldn’t hear the door open and close. It was Ray.

“Star, I’m back.” Ray stretched but didn’t get a response. They we’re starting to worry a bit, until they heard Mistin mumbling out curses in the kitchen, they walked out to see Mistin getting annoyed at another failed attempt to make something, Ray noticed the recipe, and realized that Mistin choose a difficult recipe that is not very easy to make, causing him to smile a bit at them and try not to laugh at how angry they’re getting over a single recipe. “GAH! Fuck sake! What does it take to make a recipe actually go right!? Ugh!”

Mistin put Theyre hands to they’re face and turned away to breath, moving they’re hair out of they’re face, only see Ray in hero uniform, trying not to laugh at them. “Oh… um… hi…” Mistin didn’t know weather to be embarrassed or ashamed over getting frustrated over a recipe going wrong. “Hi, struggling with something?” He says crossing his arms and leaning to the side. Mistin felt their face go a bit pink from pure embarrassment. “W-Well I was just trying to make something so….”

“A difficult recipe?”

“What?”

“The recipe is difficult to make, yeah it will take trial and error but I’m sure you’ll get it in at least…. A couple of days if you’re dedicated to making it?” Mistin sighed and admitted defeat, setting themself on the kitchen floor, then Ray joined with them setting themself down beside them. “I’m sorry…” Ray gave a concerned look, he gently started rubbing their back to comfort them. “Sorry? For what?”

“Doing this… all by myself… possibly making you worry…. this day was supposed to be about you and…. I can’t even realize a stupid recipe is going to be too difficult for me to make…. You even had to go into work on you’re birthday…. I just want… to make sure today was going to you special…. like you did when it was my birthday….. I suck at this…”

Ray didn’t realize that they were willing to do that for him, but that’s how love goes am I right? (Ahem! Anyways) Ray got up and just threw out the failed attempts causing Mistin to look up at him. “Ray what are you doing?” Ray only smiled and lend a hand to lift them up. “Well I was hoping you weren’t going to continue with this recipe and do another one that’s more simple together.” Mistin was hesitant but nodded. Ray smiled and place a kiss on their cheek, causing Mistin to laugh a bit push his face away. “Hey I was only giving you a kiss.”

“Well you gotta kiss me without that mask of yours mr. ‘Binary Star’ haha!” With that Ray looked at Mistin with so much love in his eyes, taking his mask off, right now he knew Mistin truly only wanted to celebrate his birthday… not as Binary Star, but as Ray. He loved that about them. “There you are… Happy Birthday Ray..” with that Mistin and Ray shared a passionate kiss. Ray didn’t wanna pull away but however Mistin pulled away with Ray only leaning in for more only to snap back to reality. “I think you should hop in the shower. I’ll clean up this mess.”

“Why not join me then?” Ray smirked as Mistin was tempted, they did say the next time he’d invite that they’d take up the offer. That’s when Mistin sighed and smiled. Turning to him. “Sure, I did promise that I’d take you up upon you’re offer the next time, and it seems like a good day to finally accept.” Mistin would take his hand and lead him into the bathroom, Ray already a bit excited yet couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised they actually accepted this time. “What about the mess?” Mistin smiled as they started taking off their clothes, not caring if he’s looking or not anymore. “I’ll clean it up later, for now I believe ‘we’ should both get cleaned up.~” They then turned on the shower, Ray sighs as he shakes and then chuckles a bit. He finally decided to take off his hero uniform, Mistin was the first to step in waiting for him, soon Ray followed afterwards. The nice water hitting their skin as they were in there.

——————————————————————————

Ok! This is where the spice begins! ✨☕️👀✨

______________________________________________

Soon Ray would have Mistin against the shower wall as he kissed them passionately, he was so glad that they accepted the invitation now. Mistin’s arms around his neck, soon their hands were in his now wet hair as his kiss trailed down to their neck, Mistin couldn’t help but let out quiet moans of pleasure, only fueling Ray further to continue on. Soon his hand traveled down to touch every part of Mistin’s body. “You are so… fucking perfect…” a husky whisperer into Mistin’s ear as Ray’s hand goes between their legs. “If you want me to stop, stay it and I’ll stop. If not… I’ll make sure you’re going to feel real good.” Mistin nodded eager, they soon moaned as Ray’s fingers were pumped into and out, causing Mistin to let out shaky moans of pleasure as Ray smiled at how much they were enjoying this. The water making it even easier for him to move his fingers around.

“Ray..-“ before they could speak further he kissed them, definitely adding tongue. He pulled his fingers out, Mistin was confused but understood quickly what his intentions were next. Mistin was uncertain because they never had sex with a guy before, if anything it was entirely new.. but they weren’t exactly a virgin in the slightest. Ray noticed the uncertainty and gently held they’re face, looking into they’re eyes. “If you don’t want to continue that’s completely fine, don’t feel forced to do what I want because it’s my birthday.” With that they knew Ray read their mind without consent but in this case they didn’t care at this point. They didn’t wanna run away or be scared to do things anymore, they’re going to go through with it. “I want to, Ray please…” with that Ray kissed them, soon Mistin felt both pain and pleasure, Ray whispering reassurances and even holding they’re hand fingers linked together, soon he started to move, Ray never letting go of they’re hand as his other hand gripped their side. Mistin biting their lip for a bit and then going back to moaning with pleasure, feeling every inch of him inside them feeling good with every thrust he made. Ray couldn’t take his eyes off them, he wanted to see every bit of them of every moment. He knew he wanted them from the very start, but not in a way he only wanted they’re body, but having them, they’re trust, they’re love. He couldn’t ask for a more better gift than that. He then shared a kiss with them he doesn’t get enough of them, if anything he loves them more than anything, if he were to choose the city or them, he’d pick them. Mistin couldn’t have asked for a better partner for this moment, feeling so much love from Ray it feels like they were to explode in any given time. They weren’t used to such affection for not being given any in a long, long time… they wanted to get the know the true Ray and now after all this time they still wanted to know more. They’re so glad they didn’t give up on him, though some people say two broken people are only bound to tear what’s left apart, they gave it a shot with Ray and yet here they are, loving each other. Mistin grips some of Ray’s hair, even wrapping his arms around him again. Moaning his name heck even more, saying they love them. To them this was more than just simple sex in the shower, to them it was like giving a piece of themselves to him and trust him wholeheartedly. Soon Ray while kissing them, pulls away and leans in hear they’re ear. “Mistin, I love you..” he says as Mistin knows they’re both nearly finished. “I love you to, oh god Ray!” Wrapping they’re arms around him tightly as he sped the pace up a bit, and then finally stop.

They stayed there for a bit soon Mistin finally looking at Ray out of breath and soon smiling at him, Ray didn’t need to read they’re mind to know how much they loved him. Sharing a passionate kiss afterwards.

——————————————————————————

End of the spice. ✨🤭✨

——————————————————————————

Once out of the shower Ray as expected brought over clothes. Mistin grew used to it, Ray only smiled at them as they were changing into some comfortable clothes, the day is nearly over. Mistin cleaned up the kitchen with Ray, soon he’d find a recipe that was more easy to understand and simple. Of course… why didn’t they think of that? Soon as they were making something he noticed Mistin’s sleeves were fully up, they didn’t usually have them all the way up because they showed the scars of when they used they’re ability as a villain. “What wrong?” Mistin asked a bit concerned. Ray looks at their arm, the cuts were big. They did explain how their ability worked, the deeper the cut the bigger the effect, the longer the cut the longer it lasted. “I thought you were uncomfortable showing you’re scars.” Mistin smiled and just moved some hair out of their face. Ray then knew right there he’d reached a point where Mistin isn’t ashamed to show they’re scars around him. Without warning Ray goes up behind them taking their hand and then kissing the scars on Mistin’s arm, making Mistin’s face a bit pink. “Hey! Don’t make me cover them up again old man!” Ray only laughs as he got used to them calling him old man long ago. Soon after awhile they ended up finishing the recipe also cleaning up a bit. Then Mistin decided to make something extra, ending up getting frosting on their face. Ray chuckled as he wipes a bit of it away with his thumb. At this point Mistin had already put their sleeves back down since what they made was practically done and they’re arms were getting marks from their own sleeves which was uncomfortable. “Ray wha- haha!”

“Gee Star getting messy again on my birthday?”

“Hey! Of course I’m gonna make a bit of a mess when cooking. Haha!” With that Mistin stuck out their tongue and Ray only smiles, he was having a good time. Soon afterwards they ate the food. “Oh shit! Right almost forgot.” Mistin gone over to their bedside table and grab the thing they made. Mistin gave it to them. Ray looked at it and saw two silhouettes in a starry sky holding each other. “I decided to describe how felt around you, in a form of I guess artwork… I don’t usually do it but… Ray… you make me happy. Even if the world we know is fucked up… at least we found each other… right?” Ray didn’t know what to say, but he place it to the side and kiss them. When he pulled away he held them close. “I’m glad I saw you that night.. I’m very lucky you know that?” Mistin leaned into him. “I’m lucky to have finally met you in the café.”

With that Ray spent the night, they were called in the next day, but Mistin knew he’d be back, after all. They were both caught in a pre ordained dance….

They met.

.

They collided….

.

They orbit around each other.

.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading this.

✨Happy Birthday Ray!✨

✨Hopefully I did good at writing this, it’s been long while since I’ve written actual Nsfw Ehehe… as alway! Comments are open if there are any criticisms you’d like to give. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind for the future! Bye bye!✨

[bosskie]

Realization

I didn't have a plan to draw today (yesterday, yes, I tend to post before I go to sleep because I draw late) but I just felt too anxious to do anything (self-hatred stuff), so I needed to focus on something to calm down. I kinda got tired of just doing pencil stuff, so I tried a black paper and colour pencils and man, those pencils weren't for this purpose... I had to use my old, random red colour pencil to get that red since that pack of colour pencils I used didn't have strong colours but the white one. It's been like... six years since I really used colour pencils.

This isn't really this bright IRL, it felt like I barely saw what I was drawing... Luckily, those pencils were blendable enough (it was said that they are blendable) that I could create those colours, somehow. I almost did holes to the paper while making those colours (you can see two such spots on his face)... Man, I need strong paper when I draw, it's so usual that I'm ruining the paper if it's too light... Like, for watercolour stuff I must use the heaviest paper or it will be a wavy thing, even when using the tape... I guess that my way to draw is somewhat rough... When I have done those pencil sketches, I have also succeeded to do almost holes to the paper but luckily, it's so strong that they haven't went thru the paper...

It was difficult to have an idea of what to draw because I was also at the same time reluctant to draw but something melancholic and well, Molluck... I didn't have a direct reference but as you can see, this refers to that bad ending in SoulStorm. But this more like relates to Molluck after he killed his Slig chauffeur since I just wonder what he thought after it. Maybe he realized that he just made it even worse... Frankly, I do understand him in that bad ending. He did warn the Slig to not to talk about it before but he just didn't learn from those warnings... Molluck did his best to stay calm but he just couldn't do it anymore...

I gotta say that it was interesting to hear how Lorne talked about Molluck recently, calling him 'a smart monster' but also 'a prick'. I have seen Molluck being called a bastard before too, like in this Abe's Exoddus info thing he is called 'a professional bastard', so it wasn't new but that 'monster', it caught my interest... I'm just unable to see him as a monster... Sometimes, I just wonder if there's something 'wrong' with me when I do not see this 'sinister Molluck' Lorne has also been talking about, the image OWI wants to give about him.

Despite of that presentation, I do not see him like that. I do can see him having certain sinister expressions but he doesn't still feel sinister to me... I more like just see myself in him and understand him... He just feels so 'me'... No any other character is so 'me'... I don't know if it's something 'worrying' but it's just the case. I'm not sure if my negative image of myself affects this significantly since well, I feel like I'm awful and I hate myself...

It did give me anxiety to see myself posting so often today (yesterday) since I cannot really stand my own creations but I'm trying my best to let them be... It gives me some peace when I tend to disable reblogs. It's just that I tend to dislike my stuff... I'm just not able to share my stuff more widely for this reason...

But why I do post my stuff if I tend to hate it? Well, I just like to create stuff but it's another question if I like what I did or not. I also wanna spread love for Molluck. I just love that Gluk so much... Maybe I have created a better image of him than he really is but it's what gives me life and how I do see him, how those cutscenes made me see him. I did see him as a sweet Gluk in those cutscenes. He can be harsh when he speaks but I can see actual caring behind it. I just feel like, if this blog wasn't about love toward Molluck, I would have already deleted it.

I have already said this back then but when Molluck does this expression:

It reminds me of my stupid expression I sometimes did as a child for fun, 'a bull face'... Yes, I associate this expression with myself... I can still do it. So yeah, for me, it's kinda difficult to see anything else but someone I can identify with in Molluck... I have also liked boss stuff years before knowing Molluck, and well, I do can seem intimidating and bossy, even when I don't think so... But I have also heard that I'm lovely, so I just have different sides.

I have also heard often that I'm (very) handsome, so yeah, it's one more similarity between me and Molluck... Oh, and well, my name, Riki, also means 'rich and powerful', but it isn't the reason why I have it and I didn't even invent it, it was given to me by one girl who maybe flirted to me but I didn't realize it... She just asked if it's my name, and later on, I really started to love that name. I have told this stuff before too but I felt like saying this stuff again.

I just cannot help myself that I see Molluck like this... He is my precious Gluk, no matter what.

[everydaydollydomes]

It's been a while since I've posted an update - motivation has unfortunately been a struggle to gather but I got hit with a lot of it today! Haven't done a test print of these, yet, but I've got a cover for my printer so I should be able to do at least one this weekend. Most likely of the GamePal. I've made some adjustments to the magnet locations and added my shop name, also added the console 'logo' name to the front of the head. I also made the D-pad a little larger and I think I succeeded at making the internal space a bit bigger. We'll have to wait and see how the S-hook fits.

The Meecrowahvey still needs a lot of work - but 3D Builder has hit the point where everything I try to do just stalls out the program for what feels like forever - cancelling merges or removals or anything like that. I waited at one point for like an hour before giving up and restarting the program. Luckily I didn't lose too much progress when that happened. Trying to build a magnet hinge based on the suggestion/schematic a friend suggested (that pole is kind of part of the build for it, but that's around when 3D Builder really started giving me problems). We'll see how it goes, but I think it'll be more successful than the last hinge I tried. I mostly rebuilt this one from scratch and went back to my original idea of creating two separate chambers for the S-hook/microwave plate. It's likely going to be a bit front heavy but I think it'll print a bit nicer than that last one did without the extra pieces that failed the first time.

I've also sketched out a concept for my own body. While my heads are primarily designed to be compatible with Kabbits, using the DIY neck piece and being a member of Aelith Art's patreon, I would eventually like to sculpt my own doll from top to bottom. It's just a rough concept for now (I really need to draw people from the side more often lmao) but it'll give you an idea of what I've got in mind.

[japhan2024]

What comes next

Anthony and Ian get it on, @lilac-hecox gave me this idea. But ofc I had to make it angsty. Sorry!

Anthony was horny. He was always horny around Ian. Even at his least horny, he was at least a little horny when they were together. But right now, his dong pressed against his pants uncomfortably. Luckily, he was having a great time.

Ian and Anthony were writing. The new sketch was really coming along. Looking at Ian, it seemed to Anthony like he was radiating, glowing with creativity. It was incredible to witness. And as much as it pained him, he had to tone down the more edgy - and therefore funnier - jokes. He would love to see what a truly unchained, unhinged sketch by Ian would look like.

"And then Courtney will say, ohh but I just drank all this delicious mommy milk, I'm not sure if I can handle more." Ian made a duck face and put his index finger on his lower lip, turned around and stuck his ass out at Anthony.

Anthony fidgeted in his office chair. They were at his house, his home office. His damn dick wouldn't chill out and his best friend looked more delicious every day. Of course, in the old days, there had been the many instances Ian had made innuendos and Anthony had called his bluff. Most of the time, Ian would retreat, but when they would be particularly high, he would go further, and further, and before they knew it they would be naked in Anthony's bed. They were regrettably sober today.

"Ian, I would scream laugh if I saw this, but I wouldn't be able to because YouTube would have blocked the video and deleted our channel."

"I know, I just wanted to see your reaction. That look on your face, like you have right now, it's priceless." Ian grinned.

"Oh, shut up. I tell you, you have a nice butt and you work it into every single joke today," Anthony looked at Ian's body, so curvy and inviting...

"If you got it, flaunt it!" Ian retorted and did a goofy fucking dance, making Anthony super annoyed and turned on.

"Ugh, lunch break."

"Alright... but you're into it!"

They sat down at the kitchen table, having what could only be described as a very LA lunch. Gluten-free, vegan bagels with avocado spread. Anthony was still fidgeting, changing the way he sat constantly. Ian looked at him while chewing on his bagel.

"Ohkay, cut it out. What's the matter, my guy?"

"Well, Ian," Anthony began. Dare he admit the truth? Anthony shut his eyes for a brief moment and remembered what he'd learned in therapy.

"Well... Ever since we've gotten back together, I... have noticed how good you look.. and how I would absolutely destroy that bussy." In his last sentence, he used just a little bit of comedy in his intonation, but he meant it absolutely serious.

"Dude, I've seen you looking," Ian responded, a small smile on his face while chewing food and talking at the same time.

"You want it, don't you?"

Ian swallowed his bite and stood up, turned around, and twerked.

"In front of MY salad?!" Anthony protested, pleased with himself. Ian kept twerking, and Anthony just grabbed his butt, held it tightly, and said: "That's quite enough, mister Hecox." He squeezed and almost nutted in his pants.

"Do you want me to put a baby in you?"

"Ew no?"

"I mean my semen, dumbass"

"Ohhh, in that case, yeah."

Anthony gave Ian's ass-cheeks a slap and pulled down his pants.

"Why do you think I keep showing you my ass? I want you to fuck me already! We haven't done it since we've reconciled, it's been too long, damnit."

"You're so willing, aren't you?"

They walked towards Anthony's bedroom but landed on the couch.

"Fuck, have you grown since then? A.. argh yes, oh please be gentle.."

"It has been too damn long. Argh, I need this so badly!"

Anthony saw Ian's hole, his thick ass, though maybe not as thick as before, and he couldn't help but go in full speed.

"Ahh, OH! Anthony..."

"I will, I will."

Anthony slowed down. "You're doing great. Please just breathe in and out, okay? I'm going in fully now."

"Ian I'm gonna come already, you turn me on so much, more than anyone... IAN!!"

Sweat dripped along Anthony's temples, down his chin, on top of Ian's beautiful back.

"Thank you..."

He slid out of Ian, and they walked to the shower to clean up.

"Hey, what's up?"

Anthony was looking down, lip quivering.

"I.. I'm just so frustrated. Why is the best sex in the world, with YOU, not a fertile kind of sex? Why can't we have kids together..."

Ian took Anthony's face in his hand and looked into his caramel eyes.

"Hey, I understand that feeling. But truly, even if I could have children, I wouldn't."

"Why not? Wouldn't our kids be so cute?"

"That they would, you're right. Come here."

They embraced, and Anthony let his tears stream freely, for they were being washed away by the shower. This feeling was very important to acknowledge, he thought, for it showed him what he wanted in life. He wanted a family. And he wanted Ian to be part of it. How that would look like, he didn't know yet, but he would figure it out, as he always did.

Ian was already back on his bullshit, flaunting his ass while drying off.

"I hope you're ready for another round!" Anthony teased

[ribcages-and-bookpages]

7DS: Ban x F!Reader

(key: y/n : your name, g/n: guardian name)

(Set before the "overthrow" of Liones)

You had grown up with Ban in Ravens, the awful town. He protected you as kids. You were a few years younger, and had a huge crush on him, and at the time, he just thought of you as the sister he lost. Until, your guardian decided it was time to move, having finally saved enough money, you moved to Liones. It was a huge change for you, not only did you not have your best friend or protector any more, but you were in a new place with new people and new ways. Everything was done differently there. Luckily, your guardian got a job in Liones so you were able to stay. But, you still missed Ban..everyday. sometimes, you'd draw him from memory in your little sketch book and then hide the sketch book, so your guardian wouldn't feel bad about taking you away from him. Your guardian knew how much Ban meant to you, more or less.

But you moved on for the time being. You were an adult woman now, you looked pretty different from back then, but still had the same eyes that, and the same smile. That's how he recognized you.

"Y/n?" You heard someone call behind you, and you turned and spotted Ban. You knew it had to be, who else had spikey blue hair and red eyes? But damn, he was tall! And.. muscular..he was so different from back then! Then again, so we're you. You were in your 20s now, so alot had changed. You had a job at a shop selling clothes, not your own shop of course, but you were highly trusted and opened and closed alot.

"..Ban?" You asked in disbelief, only for laughter to erupt from Ban, as he grinned looking at you

"It is you." He says softly , a strange look in his eyes, a soft look. A..loving, happy look. Like he was in bliss seeing you alive and well.

You couldn't help but let a smile break out across your face at hearing his laughter, holding your arms up, he grinned and grabbed you, hugging you. His arms went around your torso and lifted you up to his level; he is 6'11 after all. You wanted to cry and laugh, you missed him so much, your heart ached in a way that made you realize you had never truly gotten over him.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, letting a small laugh slip out as he held you, he was..shaking? Aw. Poor thing. He was so happy. Finally, he set you down and grinned at you

"So this is where you ended up." He says, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, his cheeks tinted pink from that hug, and from looking you up and down as he looked at your body. Regardless of curves or not, you looked good, and he liked how you looked.

"Yeah, g/n moved us here so I could have a better life...I wish we could have brought you with us." You say sadly,looking to the ground for a moment. He frowned

"Hey...don't worry about it, I'm fine" he says, moving to lift your chin with his fingers and thumb, grinning again, showing his fangs that he had. You smiled and nodded

"So, what are you doing here, Ban?" You ask, and he grins, seeming proud

"I'm one of the Seven Deadly Sins, don't ya know~" he hums. You blinked once. Then twice. Then three times.

"Really?"

"Really."

You broke out into a smile, patting his chest, that was seemingly puffed out

"I'm happy for you!" You say, smiling up at him, and this seemed to surprise him, and his cheeks went pink again..damn, that's cute.

You two spent the day catching up as you ran errands for the store, getting fabrics and other things needed, he just listened to you talk about your life and he told you about the Sins, who seemed like wonderful yet scary people to meet. He wanted you to meet them, but not today.

After dropping off stuff for the store, he walked you home, which was just your home now since your guardian had since passed away unfortunately, but it had happened some time ago and you had moved on, but of course it still hurt. As you got to the house, you unlocked the door and poked to him with a small smile

"Would you like to come in for some tea?" You ask, and he hummed

"I got some time to spare" he says with a grin, stepping into the house, his hands in his pockets and as always, hunched over.

Closing the door behind him, you went and made some tea, but as you accidently poured some hot water on your hand and let out an exclaim, he was at your side in literally a second, holding your hand, which was red, but not blistering luckily. He sighed on relief and looked to you

"You gotta be more careful, y/n" he says, looking back to your hand and examining your hand once again, making sure he didnt miss anything.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest as your stared at how close his face was, and seeing your flustered state, he smirked a bit, before leaning down and gently kissing your burnt fingers. As you let out a squeak of surprise, he burst out laughing.

"Not funny!" You huffed, pulling your hand away, or attempting to, but he had a strong grip on your hand, not enough to hurt though.

Looking down at your hand, then back up at him, he grinned, dangerously close to your face "...remember as kids...all the other kids teasing you about your crush on me?" He asks, causing your heart to jump into your throat and you wanted to throw up

"..y-yeah?" Damn, you stuttered. This only made him grin more and seem more amused, but he got closer, and closer, until his lips were almost touching yours, his breath on your lips.

"...I realized after you left...I felt the same.." he says softly, sliding his hand from your hand off your arm to rest on your hip

"...and that feeling never went away." He says, before moving forward and gently kissing you. He wasn't rough, he was as gentle as possible, both hands ended up on your hips though, before he eventually just picked you up by wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest, so you didn't have to bend his neck so far down.

After you kissed back, he smiled and pulled away, looking into your eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, there was a knock at your door

"Ban~ we have a mission!" Called someone, a voice you didn't know.

It was Meliodas though, the Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins. Ban sighed in annoyance and sat you down, pecking your forehead gently

"We'll talk about this after my mission." He says, grinning at you. All you could do was nod, and he took off out the door.

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK!

For the last twelve years peeps have asked me if I was opened to commissions. I had only offered services like that once, resulting in a weird transformation comic where some dude gets turned into a sexy duck. Hey, guy's gotta pay for pizza somehow, folks. Especially when Pizza Monster keeps stealing mine! At this rate I should stop spending my moola on deep-dish and use it to fortify my home. Luckily I might be able to do so now, thanks to all of you out there! For you see, it was during those twelve years that a few of you kept coming back to my deviantART page to see what crazy new things the Clarktoons and I were up to. Whether it was to see how many characters I could cram into one Sketch BOOM, hear my thoughts regarding Christmas Specials in Giraffe's Eye View, or simply to witness whatever cute crap Bumper was up to, 500 of you weirdos liked whatever I was doing. I couldn't be more grateful to those 500 peeps. I've always said my purpose in life was to make people happy, so knowing I've done so for that many people helps remind me that I'm doing something right. You all are truly the best and there's nothing I could do to express my immense appreciation. Or is there? A few of you may recall my promising something whenever I reached that many followers. While I've been distracted with my recent hacking incident or preparing for the upcoming Holiday seasons, I didn't forget about said promise. At long last, I have opened myself up to commissions! If anybody out there wants me to draw some silly silly, I'm ready to do so [within reason]. Details and prices will be posted in a journal sometime soon, but for now let's get to a commission paid for by my friend @the-pale-servant.

She had paid me to draw a Full Body piece for her Hollow Knight OC, Giolla. I'd go deeper into detail, but I know next to nothing about these games. Instead here's Jart's description of the character for some context:

Well they are a vessel created by the Pale King and lived in the White Palace with the King and his Lady for a short while before their kingdom fell to ruins. Now they live their life as a wanderer and console  the bugs dying of the Infection, their shield is memento from a friend and lover long passed from the plague

Let it be known that she also said I didn't have to know anything about the series to get this backstory. Uh huh. So I didn't have to know who the Pale King is or what significance the White Palace has, eh? Not to make this piece I didn't. This is actually my second attempt at drawing this character, the original sporting a different pose. I wasn't fond of how it turned out, so it was back to the drawing board with a better, more dynamic sketch. From there it was just a matter of coloring and getting Jart's approval, which only happened after I muted the colors. After years of making art that looks like Walt Disney's vomit, it feels so weird using darker colors. Still, my friend seemed to enjoy it as I hope the rest of you do. If anybody out there wants me to draw something like this with their own characters, be on the lookout for that upcoming journal and feel free to send me a Note via deviantART. Until then-

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Crowley introducing Aziraphale to Bigfoot?🥺

Oh my gosh.

Yes!

On with the fic!

--

"Now, I'm going to need you to not... scream, or whatever humans do when encountering supernatural creatures." Crowley stated, then paused. "Well, considering previous experiences, please don't offer him any nibbles or whatever."

"I still thought it was the right thing to do, dear." Aziraphale sniffed, would Crowley ever let him live it down that he offered a dropbear a tart?

Probably not.

It was a better reaction than when he had first seen Crowley's true form, goodness, he was still embarrassed about that, but luckily they were sweet and didn't bring it up. Often.

Crowley made a face and removed their shades, giving Aziraphale a pointed look, before slipping the arm of the glasses onto the collar of their shirt. "Whatever. Anyway, are you ready to meet him?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Aziraphale said, wringing the handle of the picnic basket he was carrying. After this meeting, they were going on a date.

It was one thing to meet a dropbear (which really should be in Australia, and shouldn't even exist, considering it was just a prank on tourists) or one of those strange Walker things that looks like ghost legs, but to be meeting a legendary Bigfoot? That was something else!

Crowley approached a cavern, hidden rather well, and made the strangest sound into it. It was like a cross between an orangutan and a bear!

Then a similar sound came from within the cavern, and there was shuffling, and the slapping of bare feet on stone.

Aziraphale's eyes widened as his mouth dropped at the sight of the creature that emerged from the cavern.

Standing at, at least, ten feet tall, covered in thick, dark brown and red hair, was a beast of legend. Goodness, he really did look a lot like the blurry photos and artist sketches! He was also very clearly naked and Aziraphale kept his eyes upwards.

Crowley was grinning, showing fangs. "Angel! This is Fritz! Fritz, this is Aziraphale, my boyfriend!" They always sounded so proud about this fact, it made Aziraphale blush.

"G-good afternoon, it is a pleasure to meet you." Aziraphale said, holding out his free hand to the cryptid.

The Bigfoot, Fritz, looked between the two of them, and raised a bushy eyebrow. He seemed to say something to Crowley, clearly in a language Aziraphale would never be able to understand.

But Crowley understood it clearly, because their expression looked offended. "Excuse you, I think he dresses well! Even if it isn't fit for the woods."

There was more grumbling and grunting.

"I'm not a fan of tartan either, but he makes it look good."

Aziraphale huffed, straightening his bow tie. "Excuse you, tartan is stylish!"

"Whatever you say, angel." Crowley replied before muttering something to Fritz, who replied back. Whatever he said made Crowley's face turn red, nearly as red as their scales.

"S-shut up...!" They hissed.

This was a surreal experience, to be this close to a Bigfoot, something most humans have never done before, and to be insulted about his sense of fashion by him as well! How fascinating, but dreadfully rude! Well, for that, he wasn't going to get any of the delicious turkey sandwiches that Aziraphale had prepared for his and Crowley's picnic today! Fritz could have an egg salad one instead.

And none of Crowley's delicious apple fritters either!

...

Okay, maybe one, since Aziraphale was trying to be the adult here and make a good first impression. After all, someone had to.

--

I almost, ALMOST named Fritz after the Bigfoot that was mooching off the Ducks in Ducktales (the one that Scrooge was trying to hunt down and kept missing), but I decided that was dumb.

[thebulletsbang]

Okay honestly, this felt great,. I've been working for like a year or so now to try and force myself to get a style that's close to the sonic style, or at least halfway between mine and it (which honestly trying to fit inside this bubble has been stopping how creative i cant be so im done with it) and now I'm just throwing my arms up and just doing what I want so here it is, here's Might in my style/au

Here's some of the concept sketches I did before today (and the style change) but I did some heavy research for this. I watched videos, I read articles, I learned so much about armadillos I didn't need to actually learn to do or write any of this but I did it anyways. I knew it was going to be hard to fit ANY of the chaotix into a more realistic style while still keeping them as a unified moebian race but I did attempt it. Luckily no spines meant I could finally put someone into a hoodie Also dirt, so much dirt, this boy digs and kicks up mud like nobody's business and we love him for it. In the au he is an enforcer for Scourge's biker thing he's got going on and is super good at just doing what he does. He is an orphan and I refuse to write any more parents into this than there needs to be uhh I have no clue if I wanna include a moebian Ray or not but maybe? That's about it.

[mcalhenwrites]

Now that Geckos is out, I plan to work on the side stories for a little collection of them. "Don't" and "Dancing Bones" will be edited, but I plan to post them online for free as well as put them in the story collection.

It'll likely only be an ebook, though, and it'll have a few more stories. That includes a finished version of "Late Returns" (what I've posted is only the first part of a WIP). I want to get back to Stargazers' Hill and the Warren/Henry story that isn't titled yet, but right now, Seasons has taken over my brain again. I'm editing and reposting chapters on AO3. I thought people might be upset that I was reposting it, but so far the reception has been kind. ;A; (I still feel bad somehow? But that's on me.) After publishing Geckos and having an amazing day in the next town over, the following day was... not so great. We had storms. I'm gonna be vague for location reasons, but I live in one of the towns hit by a tornado the other day. I saw a map of it, and uh, I could've seen the tornado out my bedroom window if it had hit during the day instead of at night where visibility is shit. And if I hadn't been huddled in the downstairs hallway with my cats and roommate. I was panicked about the weather all day, and that was worse because it was the anniversary of Andover 1991 (a tornado). I lived through that. Uh, very luckily I lived through that, it hit my neighborhood and was scary close to my house, to the point the sirens 50 ft away or so were drowned out by the sound of the tornado. We had no basement and no good inner rooms or closets in such a tiny house at the time. I've been through other tornadoes since then, but none were as terrifying as that one. Before the tornado and after the reminder that it was Andover 1991 aniversary... I also got an email that I didn't get a job that would've been good for my disabilities. Like, worked around it well and not been too straining on me. Plus I would've worked with animals. I'm struggling financially, so writing is the only way I'm getting any income - outside of crocheting, and I don't want to fucking do that for money. I want my hobby back. I want to make gifts. I want to make OC dolls. I want my limited physical spoons for crocheting to be for ENJOYMENT. Not so stressful it makes me fucking hate crocheting. Which... yeah, I'm kind of there again. That said, I have made a few book sales, but... Well, I'll keep trying. I've got other novels cooking. I'll double down my focus, maybe. I will sketch more. Maybe I'll reconsider using something like Patreon, which... don't love, but like. What can you love? Every site is screwing over creators in some way or another. :'( It's depressing, actually, bc I hop on facebook, and I can't see ANY posts of the people and groups I follow, but you know what I DO see? Fucking suggested pages for AI art. I really hope all the people who gentrified the tiny house movement get scammed into buying stupid fake tiny houses due to AI images and end up taking legal action eventually that helps to bring about the (hopefully inevitable) death of AI? I'm mean, but like, tiny houses and mobile homes and caravans and shit like that were houses before rich people decided they were cute and they went up to $200k-$300k. I wanted a tiny house bc I thought, "at least I might someday afford this" but nah. They took even that away. So enjoy your shitty "this is perfect for me" gushing when the fucking pillows are melted into the planks and the switches for the oven and stovetop are underneath the burners! Anyway! I should probably do more writing and take my anemic ass to bed soon. It's been... a shitty couple of days. I'm trying to be cheerful and remain optimistic and just boost Geckos, Automata... but eh. I'm also trying to survive when everything is against that. I had a suicidal thought earlier today that I should just gulp down all the pills I can get my hands on and be done with things. yay. (I won't. It was a passing thought. A desperate "oh god I can't afford to live and I should give up, I'm in my late 30s and nothing ever gets better" thought.)