#might even have this as the cover of a short story or something idk. i like writing about these two

[jackknife-roach]

malice, cowboy PI

[cece693]

could I maybe request something for a male reader and hannigram? something where the reader is always really quiet and generally avoids people so everyone thinks he’s shy, but one conversation with him shows that he is NOT shy—he’s just on the verge of murdering someone constantly. ‘Never plan a murder out loud’ type shit

so idk like quiet, anger issues-y type of reader? anyways thanks :3

On the Tip of Your Tongue

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader isn't who he seems, hannigram is supportive, no murder today, short but sweet, kinda au

You’ve always been the quiet type—or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. You’re the coworker who slips in and out of the office with barely a nod in passing. The neighbor who’s so hard to catch in conversation that people decide you must be shy or painfully introverted. After all, you rarely speak unless spoken to, and even then, it’s usually just a few carefully chosen words.

But Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham know better.

They see the way your eyes linger a second too long on potential threats. They hear the deliberate pace of your breathing when you’d rather lash out than listen to unwelcome commentary. They’ve witnessed how your fists tighten and then relax at your sides, an exercise in self-control so you don’t do something you’d regret—or maybe something you’ve been itching to do all day.

No one suspects that you’re coiled tight like a predator, mentally skirting the edge of violence at every sharp word or rude glance. Well, no one besides your boyfriends.

You live with Will and Hannibal in a large, old house on the outskirts of Baltimore. It’s tastefully furnished—Hannibal’s touch, of course—with warm wooden floors and richly colored walls. Tucked into a corner near the fireplace is a battered armchair that’s Will’s favorite spot. When you get home from work tonight, you find Will curled up there, jacket tossed over the chair’s arm, while Hannibal stands by the mantle, hands clasped behind his back.

“There you are,” Will says, sounding relieved. “Busy day?”

You loosen your tie with a quick tug and hang it over the coat rack. “Something like that.”

“‘Something like that’?” Hannibal repeats with a faint tilt of his head. He steps forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “It’s rare you come home so tense.”

You offer him a crooked half-smile. “I had a run-in at work.”

Will sits up straighter, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say, your voice low. You’re aware, in that moment, that anyone else would have shrugged it off with a polite, noncommittal phrase. But you don’t bother hiding the edge in your tone. Not in front of these two men. “Let’s just say I gave someone a wake-up call.”

It’s Will’s turn to smile, the corner of his mouth quirking with interest. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story than that.”

You shrug. “Maybe a bit.”

Earlier That Day

You work at a forensic consulting office attached to the FBI. You’re not a profiler—Will’s got that covered, and so does Hannibal, in his own capacity—but your role is instrumental. You file case reports, cross-reference data, catalog evidence, and do some background research that often proves vital. It’s not glamorous, but you do it well. Quiet competence, that’s your calling card. Nobody expects the seemingly shy, unassuming coworker to have sharp claws.

Apparently, Joseph Sykes in the archives department was in the mood to push buttons today. He’d made an offhand remark about your “lack of communication skills,” implying you were borderline useless in a high-stakes environment. Maybe if you were more gregarious, you’d climb the ladder faster.

You could practically feel your temper thrumming. There’s a little tingle in your fingertips, that familiar rush of heat across your temples. The darkness that’s always lurking on the edges of your mind wanted to creep in, to let you imagine just how easy it might be to…

No. Not here. You repeated the same mantra you always do. Never plan a murder out loud, and never lose your cool so publicly.

Instead, you turned to face him slowly. You allowed the silence to stretch until Joseph got a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet enough that only he could hear, but laced with a menace that forced him to pay attention.

“Joseph,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I don’t need to be loud to get results. If you want to see me really speak up, keep trying to push me.”

His expression froze as he realized that, beneath the polite exterior, something lethal flickered behind your eyes. You gave him a small, dangerous smile, then calmly walked away. He was left standing there, mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say.

Back Home

Will’s eyebrows lift as you finish recounting the incident. “You put him in his place without even raising your voice?”

“Didn’t have to.” You shrug, crossing the room to where Hannibal stands. He places a hand lightly on your shoulder, warmth radiating through his long fingers.

“We all have our own ways of asserting dominance,” Hannibal murmurs, a private amusement in his tone. “I’m glad you didn’t escalate things. Though, one day, perhaps you’ll indulge me and share how you control that hunger.” His eyes flick over yours, curious and admiring.

“I don’t know if you’re the last person who should be encouraging that or the best person,” you tease. “But it’s not about control so much as picking the right moment. I’m not going to waste my time or energy on something that small.”

Will stands, padding softly over to the two of you. “That’s what I love about you,” he says. “Everyone thinks you’re just quiet and shy, but the reality is far more interesting. You’ve got more bite in you than half the people at the Bureau combined.”

You offer a wry smile, stepping closer so that Will can take your hand, and Hannibal, your other. “There’s a lot they don’t know, that’s for sure.”

A small silence settles over the three of you—comfortable, warm. Even with your smoldering anger from earlier, you can’t help but feel at peace here. In their presence, your edges don’t feel quite so sharp. There’s an understanding that hums beneath the surface; you don’t need to watch your every word or apologize for the way your thoughts naturally veer. Will and Hannibal know who you are in your quiet moments and in the moments where the darkness tries to seep out from behind your eyes.

And they accept you, entirely.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen with Hannibal. He’s slicing vegetables for a late dinner, and the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board is almost hypnotic. You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a lazy sort of fascination.

Without looking away from his task, Hannibal speaks up. “There’s a question on your mind.”

You exhale slowly, pushing off the counter to stand at his side. “I’m not sure it’s a question so much as an observation. Everyone at work still thinks I’m meek. Even after all this time. When someone like Sykes decides to test me…some part of me wants to prove them wrong in a very, very final way.”

Hannibal’s lips curl into that refined, knowing smile. “The instincts we share can be…difficult to restrain. But you have an advantage: clarity. You know when to yield, and you know when to stand your ground. That’s more power than you realize.”

He sets the knife down and meets your gaze, eyes dark with a fond, predatory glint. “And perhaps you enjoy having them underestimate you.”

Will appears in the doorway then, shoulders relaxed. “Dinner almost ready?” he asks lightly, though he picks up on the electricity in the air. His gaze dances between you and Hannibal, reflecting his quiet understanding of the unspoken tension you both carry.

“Almost,” Hannibal replies, returning to his slicing.

Will moves close enough to rest a hand on your lower back. “And you? You alright now?” His tone is gentle.

You let out a tight breath and allow yourself to lean into his touch, if only a little. “I’m fine.” Your voice drops, turning wry. “Calmer than I was earlier, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will says. He presses a light kiss just behind your ear. It’s casual affection, but it’s enough to smooth out the last of your lingering frustration.

You smile, truly smile, for the first time that evening. Because this moment—this comfortable, domestic moment with Hannibal and Will—is what keeps you anchored. You can keep your secrets and your darkness close, but never alone. You can unleash your quieter, deadlier side at will, knowing they won’t turn away from you. If anything, it only draws you closer.

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[zebuie]

CINNAMON GIRL

pairings; gf!ellie x fem!reader

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 SYNOPSIS:: You were making cinnamon rolls in the kitchen when Ellie walked in and tempted you into some steamy action. (SORRY I DONR KNOW HOW TO WEORD THIS)

WARNINGS— 2.6k words, smut!!!!, strap on usage (r receiving), eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), pet names (good girl🙁, mama, uhemmm idk), ellie calls her strap her dick, Ellie fucks u on the counter, a little bit of fluff in the start?!? uhuhuhhhh sorry my brain isn’t functioning propoerly😆😆😆

a/n; writing this made me realize how single I am LORDDD anyways I’m so cramped with work I have sm to do I jus wnan sleep 😞 also might start writing for Abby and dina yusssss🔥 there’s a lotta (r receiving) in the warnings i need to dom Ellie

DAILY CLICK

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

It was a Friday evening, Ellie had originally planned to hang out with her friends but changed her mind and decided to stay at home with you

You could hear her swearing and groaning from the other room while playing her video game. 

Suddenly, she switched off the console, walked over to you who was adorned in a pair of satin short shorts and a tank top wearing an apron around your waist, engaged in making cinnamon rolls on the flour-covered countertop. 

Upon spotting you, Ellie ambled up towards you and hugged you closely before pointing towards the half-completed dough on the counter 

“hey baby, need help?” she asked, You smiled at Ellie's unexpected surprise and hugged her back, happy to spend your evening together. 

"Yeah definitely thanks," you replied sweetly, "I almost got bored playing around with the dough. A little help would be great." 

Ellie smirked before helping you out on rolling and kneading the sticky dough until it became smooth and stretchy. 

As the two of you continued to bake, a playful banter filled the air as Ellie shared stories about her gaming adventures while you teased her gentle nature against her tough girl persona. 

You were getting along great while making those cinnamon rolls when you both ended up covered in dough. 

You laughed and joked about it before Ellie decided to take it a step further. 

She pretended to dodge you but eventually, she let herself get caught by your arms, flour all over her. It was silly, 

but so sweet. You brushed the dust off her shoulders and neck with one hand which made Ellie giggle even more. It's moments like these that make relationships worthwhile. 

You continued baking the cinnamon rolls and somehow managed to avoid any more dough-mishaps. Ellie felt a sudden pang of hunger which made you suggest trying one of the warm freshly baked treats. 

Excited, Ellie eagerly obliged; her eyes closing in pleasure as she bit into the soft, sticky roll coated with sweet cinnamon-sugar mix. She moaned quietly "babe! these are amazing," 

pulling you close for a tender kiss to share in her delight. As you basked in Ellie's contented sigh, the scent of warm cinnamon rolls filling the air around you, something deep inside urged you to pull her even closer. 

You couldn't resist any longer as your fingers intertwined with hers and gently tugged her into a more intimate hug. 

Ellie didn't protest but rather melted against your chest completely entranced by the warmth emanating from both of your bodies. 

Slowly, she tilted her head upwards to meet your gaze; desire flickering within her eyes like soft moonlight. In that moment,  everything else faded away leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms - sharing a gentle kiss filled with tenderness and longing. 

As your lips parted, you felt the urge to deepen the kiss, drawing Ellie closer until you were practically devouring her sweet lips. 

Your hands moved from her fingers up her arms, taking in every curve as they reached around to cradle her lower back. She sighed deeply as she surrendered herself to your embrace fully engrossed in the passionate exchange. 

Before too long, soft moans escaped both of your lips mingling together creating a symphony of desire that resonated within the peaceful serenity of your warm kitchen. Ellie slowly but slyly untied ur apron, gripping onto your thighs and propping you up on the flour covered countertop. 

“Ellie..” you whined, In that moment, there was no need for words - your eyes conveyed everything - want, desire, hunger for her sweet touch. 

Her fingers dug into your flesh as she pressed herself closer to you; a whimper escaping her lips. Without hesitating further, Ellie slipped her hands under the waistband of ur shorts and gently cupped your bare cheeks in her palms sending shivers down your spine. 

"God Ellie...", you moaned softly, burying your face in the hollow of her neck as she fondled your ass with skilled hands. 

Her breath washed over your ear sending jolts of pure lust down your spine. 

She kissed you hungrily again and then started to trail her lips downward onto your chest; teasing circles around the soft skin between ur pecs before moving lower. You watched through hazy desire filled eyes as she lowered herself even further until her lips were barely touching the fabric of your panties. "Ellie...want you so bad," you breathed out thickly, your hips bucking instinctively as she continued her teasing. 

Ellie's smile grew wickedly wide as she slipped a hand inside your panties; her eyes meeting yours. She leaned back slightly, pulling on ur panties until it finally came off - leaving you fully exposed to her heated gaze. Ellie palmed your pussy, teasingly stroking your slit causing wet warmth to flood between your legs. Her gaze never left yours as she blew a gentle stream of air against your moistened folds; a soft whimper escaping from deep within you. 

Ellie leaned closer, trailing her tongue along the sensitive seam while probing gently inside with one finger.

You cried out softly, arching your back at the delicious sensation flooding through you as she continued to lave her tongue along your slick folds. She slipped a second finger inside, stretching you deliciously while occasionally flicking her thumb across your bundle of nerves. 

she then slowly started to plant sloppy kisses on your neck, her hand on your neck. Ellie pulled back from your sensitive spots, admiring the glistening dampness she left on you. "so beautiful.." she whispered softly, trailing her fingers through the wetness before dipping them in her mouth teasingly. 

You sighed contentedly as her other hand moved between your thighs spreading you open just a bit more; giving her easier access to explore your body further with soft gentle kisses and lingering licks. 

She teased your most sensitive spot with gentle flicks of her tongue while her fingers danced around you, increasing the pressure as she gradually pushed you closer to the edge. 

Ellie moved her other hand between you, rubbing lightly against your hardening clit making waves of pleasure crash through you until everything became a blur; ecstasy washing over you as waves after wave of intense pleasure crashed down upon you. 

You moaned loudly in pure delight; trembling under Ellie's skilled touches until at last, your body relaxed completely leaving both of you breathing heavily in each other's embrace. 

As your shudders slowly subsided, Ellie pulled away to admire the flushed beauty of her lover. "love u s’much.. " she murmured before reaching up to pull your damp tank top off; tossing it aside. 

She ran her fingers softly over your chest, grazing the skin tenderly and gently cupping each breast while leaning in for a deep kiss. 

Her fingers teased circles around your sensitive nipples causing you to gasp slightly at the sweet pleasure emanating through you. 

Ellie slowly traced the curve of your breasts, her fingers sliding under you and around your body until she reached between your thighs; running her finger through the wetness there. 

She glanced down at it with a knowing smirk before glancing back up into your eyes; the strain in them telling her everything she needed to know. Slipping off her own sweat pants, Ellie revealed the strap on that was nestled against her core; a wicked gleam lighting up her eyes as she noticed your obvious intrigue. "ready?" Her voice was soft, You nodded wordlessly.

feeling a surge of anticipation course through you as she slowly began to ease the strap on between your legs. Ellie ran it along the swollen folds before sliding it gently inside you; stretching you even further causing shuddering moans of delight to escape your lips. 

She adjusted herself, getting comfortable and gripping one end while her free hand danced around your body playfully - occasionally caressing or teasing parts of your sensitive flesh until you were whimpering for more. 

With a gentle pull, Ellie guided you off the counter and turned you around so your ass was up in the air; her lips finding their way to the soft skin of your lower back as she explored every inch with loving thoroughness. 

As she rubbed against you, Ellie slowly began to push inside again causing hot waves of pleasure to crash through you. 

You moaned deeply at the fullness stretching you wide while pushing back against her eagerly. 

Ellie picked up pace, her hips moving faster and more confidently as she savored the feeling of being so deeply connected to you. 

Her fingers traced sensual patterns on your lower back, occasionally grazing the sensitive skin right by your buttocks; making you shudder delightfully in pleasure. 

"Please mama…fuckkkk-" Ellie breathed out huskily against your skin - her tone thick with passion and desire before withdrawing almost completely only to slam back inside leaving a soft grunt escaping from both of you. 

Ellie continued to plunge herself in and out of you, her rhythm becoming more intense as she growled deep in her throat - her entire body consumed by the pure bliss of being connected to you. 

She reached forward to wrap her fingers around your clit; rubbing it gently while alternately teasing your entrance with the tip of the strap on. You whined softly, desperately trying to control yourself but the pleasurable sensations were overwhelming. 

Sweat was dripping from both of you, but it did nothing to dampen the intense passion between you. 

Ellie's panted breaths filled your ears as she drove deeper, her muscles clenching around your wet folds causing shivers to dance through you. 

She continued to tease your sensitive bundle of nerves; her fingers moving in delicate patterns while thrusting harder and faster into your core. The feeling of being stretched wide coupled with Ellie's skilled caresses caused you to feel a pressure building low in your belly; every thrust intensifying it until all you could do was moan loudly. 

She sensed the impending climax and changed her pace once more - drawing herself almost completely out before plunging back inside fiercely, her fingers continuing to torment your clit. 

Ellie swore she felt your muscles contracting around her and she knew you were close. With a growl, she thrust herself harder, “cmon baby, takin’ my dick so well..” Ellie grunted. You cried out, 

a powerful climax washing over you as pleasure ripped through your body. Your muscles clamped down hard on Ellie's strap on and she groaned deeply - her hips stalling for a moment before resuming their frenetic rhythm. Ellie rode it out with you - her own orgasm surging through her at the sweet sound of your cries. 

The intensity of your orgasm sent Ellie over the edge and she grunted loudly as her own release surged through her; her body shaking with pleasure. As the sensations subsided, she gently pulled out of you and spun you around so you were facing her - a wicked grin spreading across her face. 

"Good girl..." Ellie teased lightly, reaching down to stroke herself through her sweatpants; giving an amused glance towards your dripping pussy. 

"Fuck, yes." Ellie finally spoke gruffly, her fingers disappearing inside her pants to find her throbbing clit. 

"made me cum so hard... I need your sweet pussy to finish me off." She gave a lustful groan as she tugged you closer - sitting on the couch and pulling you over herself. 

As you straddled Ellie's lap, she eagerly ground herself against your sopping folds - moaning loudly as she rubbed her clit against the soft flesh. She reached up to grasp your hips; tugging you closer and harder onto her grind. 

Your pussy pressed against Ellie's clit, causing her to shiver from the contact; her hips bucking in pleasure. "You like that?" Ellie husked out before giving your hips a hard squeeze.

You whimpered, unable to deny the pleasure radiating through you. 

Your pussy slickened even more, rubbing against her sensitive nub in perfect harmony. 

Ellie's breathy moans became louder and more frantic; her hips thrusting upward, 

chasing after the sweet edge that seemed always just out of reach. 

Sweat glistened on both your bodies as the intensity of your grinding grew stronger - pleasure swelling within you, threatening to spill over. 

Ellie dug her fingers into your flesh, her hips bucking fiercely against yours; she let out a fierce growl before burying her face in the crook of your neck. 

Her rough tongue trailed up your throat, suckling and biting gently at your earlobe as she moaned loudly into your ear - her body shaking from the force of her climax. 

As Ellie's orgasm crashed over her, a wave of pleasure coursed through you; forcing a gasp past your lips as you also felt yourself approaching the edge. 

Her climax spent, Ellie gently eased you off her lap - a satisfied smile spread across her face. "Fuck babe, I needed that." She leaned in for a tender kiss; softly grazing her teeth over your lower lip before pulling away.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I have three questions. In my story I'd like one of my characters to use a cane, because I never see any representation for younger people who use canes. For context this is in a medieval fantasy setting and it's going to be a comic so it will be visual media.

Question 1

I was thinking about why she might use it, and I thought maybe she could have broken her leg at some point and have chronic pain from that. I looked it up and it looks like broken bones CAN cause chronic pain, and I found a few posts from people saying that they have chronic pain/a limp after breaking their legs.

Does this sound like something that she would/could use a cane for? Would this type of chronic pain be helped by using a cane, or would it not make much of a differnece?

Question 2

At one point in the story her best friend/love interest is being attacked by a creature. Would it be okay for her to use her cane to hit it? She doesn't beat the shit out of it or anything, she just whacks it on the head to get its attention and stop it from attacking her friend.

Idk if this is even a trope but I don't want it to come across as me saying disability aids are dangerous or secretly weapons or something. She doesn't have one of those sword canes, it's just a normal cane.

Question 3

I don't know a lot about canes but I'm planning on her cane being a hand-carved, wooden, offset handle cane.

Will that type of cane be good for supporting her body as she walks around? She's pretty petite and maybe around like 5'2" or something, so she doesn't have a lot of weight to support.

I found a guide online that stated how to size her cane correctly, but do I need to add a few extra inches to compensate for the cane sinking into the ground when she walks around outdoors or will that not make much of a difference?

She lives in a rural village and there are no paved roads, just dirt. Should I maybe put a metal cap on the bottom of the cane so that it doesn't get worn down on dirt/rocks/etc?

Hey!

A cane would make sense for that. Especially if her leg doesn't offer enough stability or can't bear all the weight (though if it can't bear it at all, crutches would be better).

I don't see a problem with whacking something with a cane, though it's definitely a desperate measure (a walking cane is short as hell). I can't imagine that it would be a particularly good weapon unless she manages to knock it out on first try. But for diverting attention it could be fine.

The type of cane sounds good to me. Though keep in mind that if she's petite and doesn't have a lot of strength, it being wooden could be eventually tiring for her in the long run. Most modern canes are much lighter for this reason.

As for the height measuring, unless she walks in mud or something equally swamp-esque it wouldn't really make a difference. The general rule is that a cane should reach the crease at the wrist, but in my experience it doesn't have to be exact. More or less around that height should be alright.

A metal cap is an interesting solution. Canes do very much wear out at the tip, and we have to change out the tips once in a while, especially if we happen to be going through harsher terrain a lot. Because her cane is wooden and non-modern, I think the best idea would be to always have the tip covered (these things wear off from any surface in existence, some are just faster than others) and change them occasionally when they're no longer usable (e.g. after walking through a rocky terrain for a long time).

I appreciate the amount of thought you put into the character. I hope this is helpful,

mod Sasza

[webicon]

I'VE MADE A CONCEPT ART FOR BLACK LORD OF ALAGADDA AAAAAA <<<3333 It's not yet finished, I'll add onto the design as I go but here's the reason/meaning behind his clothes ↓

The hair is short because long hair is hard to take care of, he barely takes care of himself so how is he gonna take care of his hair? HMMM?! It's also frizzed to symbolize its misshapenness(its not curly, I hc him having straight hair)

The bandages, so, I've actually seen someone say that the black lord was covered in bandages, not in the wiki or any story, I don't remember where I saw that but It seemed so true to me, he is covered in dirty and loose bandages because, come on, he's been dead before and went through torture, his body is bruised and he has injuries, the neck area is more prominently dirtied with blood because he was decapitated as a jester

The cloak is because he's dead and cold, but he can still feel it so he uses his cloak to cover himself, and, ahem, I've never read anything about Alagadda having a sun tbh. The reason the cloak clasp is more like a broche is because regular cloak clasps have two clasps and a chain between them, and since he was beheaded he doesn't want to wear something like that with the fear of it tugging on his throat and choking him, also, the reason the clasp is shaped like a diamond is because it was one of the symbols he had on his costume as a jester and because it's the most minimalist and even shape, if it was a clubs it'd be more droopy because of the uneven mass

The simple shirt is because it's comfortable and a much detailed and accessory ridden outfit would make him feel anxious and claustrophobic inside his own clothes

The gloves are to hide the bandages, that's it

He's not wearing a corset, that is a scoliosis brace, because he's been TORTURED I remind you, his bones were most likely broken and his spine was damaged, the grey base and the patterned inside seemed nice but somehow doesn't seem quite right? Idk

The loose pants are because of his anxiety to wear tight clothing and accessories, they irritate him

-----------------------------------------

Yeah, I didn't wanna take away from his assigned color but I didn't think I had to make him strictly black and white, I might change it up because, like I previously said this is still a w.i.p

[49436]

Taking on @batmanisagatewaydrug 's 2025 Book Bingo (along with my wife & housemate, so it's now on our fridge. Taking me back to summer reading lists from the library)

I tend to work down my to-read list in order, unless there's something I really want to get to, so most of this list is 'what's the first thing I'll hit that fills the criteria'. But some books earn the right to skip the line, for one reason or another.

Going for a full board, which means actual bingo might take a minute lol

List below-

Literary Fiction - TBD

Short Story Collection - Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah. Chain-Gang All Stars was on my top 10 from 2024 so even though short stories and I don't tend to get along, this one I'm excited about. Will also try Drinking From Graveyard Wells by Yvette Lisa Ndlovu

Sequel - Either A Victory of Eagles by Naomi Novik or Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao. A matter of which one I get first; My library doesn't have physical copies of Heavenly Tyrant yet, and my wife owns all of Temeraire, so it might win.

Childhood Favorite - Might be Watership Down by Richard Adams, which is always a banger, but I reread Watership just a couple years ago, so it might be The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander instead, which I read many times with my mom and still have the whole series of.

20th Century Speculative Fiction - TBD

Fantasy - A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson. I read so much fantasy, BUT I already have A Taste Of Honey on my side table. So here we are.

Published Pre-1950 - The Iliad (and The Odyssey) translated by Emily Wilson. Heard a lot of noise about her translation, and haven't read these two since... idk but it's been over a decade. Also going to hop on the Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier train.

Indie Publisher - The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms trilogy by N.K. Jemisin. I read a LOT of indie publishers and Jemisin if one of my all-time favorite writers. I've been putting off this series for a time I can really get into it and burn down all three.

Graphic Novel - Dorohedoro by Q Hyashida. Currently on volume 8, will probably finish the series in the next week or two. Love love love Hyashida's work

Animal on the cover - Plague Dogs by Richard Adams. Despite my aforementioned childhood obsession with Watership Down I never got around to Plague Dogs. Looking forward to it!

Set in a country I've never visited - TBD

Sci-Fi - Another genre I'll read a thousand of in a year. Currently I have Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie on my side table (which I fear may be mid, but time will tell) I'm also VERY excited to read The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal

2025 Debut Author - TBD

Memoir - Love Is An Ex-Country by Randa Jarrar. Memoirs aren't usually my thing, but this one made it's way onto my to-read list last year so this is good motivation.

Zine - TBD. Browsing all the other posts from people doing this challenge for recs

Essay Collection - How To Read Now by Elaine Castillo. Literally the only essay collection on my to-read list and it jump scared me. Thought for sure this would a TBD, but How To Read Now should be interesting.

2024 Award Winner - TBD. Will trawl award lists when I have time

Non-Fiction - Facing the Wave: A Journey in the Wake of the Tsunami by Gretel Ehrlich. Specifically chose something that doesn't also count as social justice/activism, which is most of my non-fiction reads. I've found a real appreciation for good non-fiction the last few years (Everyone go read Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox). Learning stuff is cool!

Social Justice/Activism - Everything you Love Will Burn: Inside the Rebirth of White Nationalism in America by Vegas Tenold. Excited for this one.

Romance - TBD. Tend to read romance that's also another genre (romantasy side eye at myself) so I've inevitably got one on my list. But maybe Akwaeke Emezi will write another romance and sweep me off my feet.

Recipe - Steak wrap pinwheels. My wife has been watching Food Truck Race (lol. lmao even) and one of the contestants made these. Stealing the idea with impunity.

Horror - Fever House by Keith Rosson. I've got a rich vein of horror novels on my to-read list, but this will be one of the first.

Published in the Aughts - TBD I'm old. I read of lot of 00's work.

Historical Fiction - Velvet Was The Night by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Is the 70's historical? I think the 70's is historical now. One of the final 3 books of Moreno-Garcia's I haven't read, and she's never let me down. Might read another Phryne Fisher Mystery or two as well, because they're quick and fun.

Librarian recommendation - TBD. I love my library and there's a few librarians who know me, will have to ask their opinions. Talking to a person! Not just taking one off the recommended shelf! Wild!

[huurreauthor]

You know, Bound by Darkness series is still missing two oneshots that are incredible difficult with their slightly darker themes so I'm procrastinating by outlining its multi-chapter sequel.

Which... So far, after about 30% of the story has been covered, I have 15 chapters outlined scene by scene. When I have general goal of three scenes per chapter and 1000 words per scene, giving me 3000 words per chapter (though it's usually more than that, closer to 4000 words at least), I'd estimate that these chapters will be about 45k-50k words.

Three times that? 150k.

My general word count result after first estimation? At least 25% more. To be honest, probably even more since my word count per scene is usually at least 1,5k words.

Where my "nice dark romance sequel that's still short-ish, but not like The Promise in His Eyes or, Merlin help me, Kruunuprinssi (8-part series of complete rewrite, currently in Finnish but coming out in English at some point and estimated word count is around 1-1,4 million words)" went?

Also: One of the subplots is named pregnancy. It is devastiting plot with a sweet ending while main plot might have a bit of bittersweet ending unless I figure out how to fix one problem.

Also: I don't write angst or heavy hurt/comfort but I wrote this to some people yesterday:

This is just one of the writing problems, wounding your own soul in your own accord so deeply that it's impossible to heal. This one has already broken my heart with the outline so writing it...

So much hurt coming up.

Also, my favourite scene card so far (that's not really spoiling anything):

I've got no idea yet what those Dark Lord™ things are, but I will figure them out.

[I'm not good at using Tumblr. Literally, I've used it only randomly within last year and before that? Well... Let's say that it was closer to 2010 than 2020. Around... 2012, 2013 or something. And I don't really remember that much anymore. So, I'm just, idk, playing around and trying to understand this place?]

[stupidlittlespirit]

Random Ford thought of the day:

I headcanon him as having a lot of scars from his travels and I 100% believe he's self-conscious about it. It's not an uncommon headcanon for him.

But I wonder how he would be with a reader who has scars? Like I almost imagine a scenario where they both are so used to hiding them and being jumpy when someone gets too close/brushes their clothes that cover the scars. When would they find out the other also hides scars? How does that go? Idk I'm just thinking about how they would be with a mutual insecurity.

And honestly it doesn't even have to be scars from anything deeply traumatic or violent, but still something reader is incredibly body conscious about.

(Maybe they help each other get over their insecurities?? Idk i just love hurt/comfort and body conscious Ford/reader)

I have the scar headacanon too. I think it's one of the most popular ones and I really love it, plus I think he has a bunch of tattoos too.

The most obvious scenario I can imagine is having sex, but I still think they'd have to work up to that. Over time, trust would build and they'd build their way up to exposing themselves like that.

Reader could bring their own up when Ford shows reluctance to undress because of his scars, so they mention theirs and it's a bit of a gradual 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' situation.

I can definitely see allowing the other to feel the scars first. I go over it in Spores a bit. The concept of feeling out the marks as a gentle introduction/acknowledgment of them to test the waters is a good way to build confidence. That way, for Ford at least, he'd feel like they'd be less shocking than an announced, random reveal. He'd be worried about a bad reception of them but also about grossing out his partner and upsetting them, because they'd be quite distressing.

I picture Ford's scars to be very bad and intense, and he'd eventually explain where they were from (he'd want to explain, by the way, he wouldn't have to). I think that maybe if Reader had scars of their own, they'd be able to trade stories a bit and help the other feel comfortable.

They'd definitely build each other's confidence over time. I can see Ford one day just coming downstairs in a short sleeved shirt because he's gradually gotten to feel less weird about the way he looks there. He might not go out in the open/public, but he'd wear a tee or something around the house sometimes and I think Reader (and the others) would be overjoyed by his growing confidence.

It would be a mutual exchanging of vulnerabilities.

[radioisntdead]

Hello hello,

It's been a while since I put in a request since I've been busy with tests, but I'm back with a new request!!

Could we maybe have a flower demon that died from hanahaki disease (she still has a few symptoms in hell, just to the point where she doesn't feel pain), talking about her past love to the hotel?? (another song fic, Everything I wanted by Ms Billie eilish)

And heroes love could be someone like alastor or vox?? Idk rlly know, I just want some sweet angst to chow down on 🤤

Your Dearest,

-XIN 🐇🤍

Good evening my dear Xin! I WAS SO EXCITED TO GET THIS REQUEST FROM YOU BECAUSE I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE SOMETHING WITH HANAHAKI FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS NOW, I misread the bottom part of your request and that's why there's that part at the end, anywho! I hope you enjoy!

Baby's breath

Hazbin x reader

Warnings: reader's past love is gender neutral you can make them whatever gender or if you wanna keep em' nonbinary it's up to you! I imagine the reader looking like one of those flowers from the animated disney Alice in wonderland, reader's lowkey victim blamed for their death.

Song used

I had a dream

"[NAME]! Damn it, [NAME]! Open the door this instant! Please open the door! [NAME]!" The person that caused this shouted your name as they banged on the door, twisting and turning the knob desperately trying to open the door.

You were curled up on the cold tile of the bathroom flower, baby's breath flower buds were scattered across the floor covered in blood, you felt the plant squeezing at your lungs as more came up your throat, clawing it's way up.

I got everything I wanted

You didn't want to die, truly but you didn't want to give up your love for the by the way of surgery like a damned fool.

And now you pay the ultimate price for your love.

A pitiful death.

In your bathroom.

Not what you'd think

The flowers came and came out until it was too much, flowers filled your mouth and lungs effectively suffocating you to death.

The last thing you heard was the door finally being opened and a wail of pure unbridled agony following it.

And if I'm being honest, It might've been a nightmare

You woke up in hell, honestly not where you were expecting to end up but you suppose it might be related to how you die, you willingly chose not to get the surgery after all.

After the shock of being dead you realized you were a flower, a beautiful flower with human like mannerisms, like those flowers in Alice in wonderland.

To anyone who might care

You still had some of the hanahaki symptoms even in hell, it wasn't anything too extreme just, coughing up baby's breath and a stinging pain every once in awhile.

You eventually found yourself in the hazbin hotel, not as a resident per say but Charlie thought they could use a gardener, especially with the hotel rebuilt, and who better than the flower who died by flowers to be the gardener?

Although no one knew how you died.

Thought I could fly fly So I stepped off the Golden, mm

That was until Charlie organized a little activity, having everyone write a short story and share it with the others.

And Niffty, oh darling Niffty, the first man slayer, resident roach killer, wrote a lovely little story about hanahaki disease that left a couple of the residents misty eyed, Alastor making a comment about how it was a foolish way to die, especially when there's a way to be rid of it and Charlie flat out sobbing.

Nobody cried cried, cried, cried, cried

There was only one thing you wanted to correct about it, just a little inaccuracy and when she bit back with a "Welllll how do you know it's not accurate?" You replied with a "Because I died from it? I think I'd know how it happens."

The silence that followed was stiff, awkward and suffocating, not as suffocating as the flowers that killed you but suffocating nonetheless.

"It's not as bad as it sounds! I mean it did hurt like a motherfucker but it was baby's breath so it's not like there were any thorns?" You attempted to backtrack, but within a moment Charlie pulled you into a hug.

Nobody even noticed

And so you decided to recount to your dear friends your involvement with the person who was the reason for those blooming flowers that had caused your untimely demise.

Niffty had a notepad out to write things down for her next fanfiction.

I saw them standing right there

You were standing outside your college study hall waiting for the rain to stop.

Kinda thought they might care might care, might care

You had forgotten your umbrella and they offered to share theirs with you.

I had a dream

They had bright eyes, a warm smile, and a cheerful demeanor, they were like the embodiment of sunshine.

I got everything I wanted, but when I wake up, I see

After that a friendship bloomed the two of you would study together, walk each other to classes, get lunch together.

You with me and you say

They were there for you when no one else was, they were your soil, they were the one you would call when everything was crashing down around you.

Showering you with lovely words, saving you a seat, being a good friend.

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

How could you not fall for them?

Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to

Those feelings of yours were never going to be returned, no matter what you did.

If I could change the way that you see yourself

The two of you were taking a break from studying, they were laid flat on their back on your bed while you were leaning on your desk, chatting about recent events in your friend group, like how so and so got together with what's his face or how girl B got a new dog.

You wouldn't wonder why you hear

"Out of pure curiosity, do you like anyone? a bunch of our friends are getting together so.." you asked innocently enough,

They hummed, "in like a romantic sense? Nah-" they let out a nervous chuckle, "I don't think I'm really built for romance, I don't really feel romantic attraction, if that makes sense?" They moved to sit upwards, shrinking themselves into their yellow sweater.

"Oh, yeah that makes sense, no worries."

"Oh thank God, Anyways did you hear that-"

'They don't deserve you'"

The petals appeared soon after that.

I tried to scream but my head was underwater

You remember booking it into a bathroom, locking the door behind you as you struggled to stop your coughing.

Small white petals barely the size of a crumb scattered across the sink.

They called me weak

Hanahaki disease, not common per say but not rare either.

Like I'm not just somebody's daughter

You made no move to move on from these feelings.

You didn't want to get the surgery to remove the flowers growing within you, it would've been better to do so, but there was that small chance that along with those pesky feelings of yours, memories of that person would disappear with it, and did you really want to take that chance?

It could've been a nightmare but it felt like they were right there

And so you let it fester, and grow.

Petals turned into full baby's breath flowers, small but deadly if your coughing them up from your lungs.

And it feels like yesterday was a year ago

Day by day it got worse, until you ended up coughing up a handful of bloodied baby's breath in front of them during a dinner along with some of your friends, some who knew, and some who didn't.

But I don't wanna let anybody know

You booked it to the bathroom where it got progressively worse, they banged on that door and shouted until their hands were scratched and their voice was raw.

'Cause everybody wants something from me now

Another one of your friends got a screw driver and took the hinges off the door to get to you, but it was far too late.

And I don't wanna let 'em down

You were found surrounded by those white flowers, eyes glossed over and wide open and stems peering out from your throat.

I had a dream, I got everything I wanted

It looked hauntingly pretty.

But when I wake up, I see

They screamed as they covered their mouth.

You with me and you say

Eventually one of the other friends who knew decided to fill them in on your little crush on them, at your funeral, you know like an asshole.

They were filled with guilt.

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

They did love you, just not in the way you loved them, and it wasn't their fault that you died, after all you were the one who refused to get help for it.

Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to

But still, they felt guilty, maybe if things were different you would be alive, maybe if they never offered you their umbrella that day, maybe if they could feel those feelings you would?

If I could change the way that you see yourself

Yellow roses were left at your grave every death anniversary, birthday and holiday, it was the last thing they could do, maybe if you weren't in hell you would know about it.

You wouldn't wonder why you hear

It was a tragic and foolish situation either way, you made your decisions and you paid the price for it.

'They don't deserve you'

Although if you knew it was going to end like this, would you let yourself die again?

If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

Would you let yourself move on? Would you have gotten the surgery?

Would I do it again?

Or would you sit like a duck again waiting for death to wrap it's wings around you and drag you down to the firey pits of hell?

If they knew what they said would go straight to my head

No one shared any of their short stories after that, which was probably a good thing since Angel dust was next and who knows what filth he wrote.

It was a nice activity while it lasted.

What would they say instead?

Life in the hotel continued after that, you grew particularly close with Alastor who enjoyed lowkey mocking your way of death, and Niffty who liked showing you her fanfictions written with hanahaki as a plotline.

If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

"I'll be right there in a minute Charlie I need to use the restroom first!" You shouted down to the princess as you ran down the hallways into a bathroom.

Would I do it again?

You closed the door behind you as a flowery hand darted up to your mouth as you coughed.

If they knew what they said would go straight to my head

Red tulip petals fell from your lips, you stared at them as they laid in the sink, a sick sense of nostalgic deja vu filled you.

"Fuck."

What would they say instead?

Are you doing to do something about it this time? Or will history repeat itself again?

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this, I had so much fun writing it! Me sending copy and pasted paragraphs about baby's breath meanings in the discord is proof lmao, anywho I hope you all have a wonderful night and as per usual thank you for tuning in!

Speaking of our discord you should join!

[rrenzwrld]

unsung

armin x black reader who can sing but she don’t like to

idk what this is actually😔 very short

You used to love singing when you were a little girl, going to church to sing in the choir and joking little talent shows here and there. But as you got older, all your passions seemed to dwindle away and the things that you once loved to do, you weren’t sure if you enjoyed anymore. Every now and then, you’d absentmindedly sing a little tune around your apartment when you’re doing something but your desire to pursue a musical career with your voice was null and void.

But you weren’t the only one in your complex who had been musically inclined. Your neighbor, Armin, was a small musician who would record himself playing covers of various songs with his guitar, giving the music an acoustic feel. When he’s not making music himself, he’s in a studio with his friends helping them out with their musical journey. You had spoken and went out with Armin a few times after work but you hadn’t mentioned the fact that you could sing even when Armin mentioned his love for his childhood guitar when you asked about his hobbies one day.

From then on out, your neighbor was completely unaware for how much you two really did have in common until you decided to take your trash out one day in a really good mood. When you felt good enough on that particular day, you’d hum the tune of one of your favorite songs for the week, or even softly sing it to yourself as you do tasks around your house. Today, that did not go unnoticed by a certain someone.

He paused the movie he was watching in order to closer hear the tune. When you came back up to your door, you saw Armin peeking his head out his door.

“Armin? You okay?”

“Yeah, I just thought I heard something…” You gulped, realizing that you might have disturbed him. “Was that you?”

“Huh?”

“The singing and humming.. was that you?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.. nowadays I don’t even realize I’m doing it so it might be—“

“You never told me you could sing.” Armin had to hold back his excitement. Even through something as simple as humming sounded angelic and he didn’t expect it to come from you. But you never felt like you needed to tell him about something that you knew wasn’t as important to you anymore.

You shrugged. “Didn’t think it was important.” You began to enter your apartment before Armin stepped from behind his door. You probably didn’t think so but just from that sentence alone, he knew your story. It saddened him to know that you could potentially have a talent that you were letting rot away and he could build more hope for your abilities than you did. Armin saw right through you and knew that deep down you were a musician, a lover of music just like him. And he wanted to bring that out of you once again.

“I know this might be weird but do you wanna join me for dinner later?”

[callsignfangs]

I know you have something to say about Farah.

Do it.

You know you want to. 😊😉

You lot know me so well 💔💔

Giggles but actually, I’m sorry for randomly vanishing, long story short ive been dealing w some personal stuff and been hesitant to start posting again bc it might be a bit on n off lol. But most things have chilled out a little bit, so i might dip my head back into writing 😇

Also, bc of my amazing luck, I literally got sick, like, today. Sooo, have my fever-induced Farah rambles 😻 Brought to you by. Idk probably the flu or something 💪

Note: the fact i managed to dump this all out in one session before napping is a lil funny ngl 😇

Double note: I acc had a different plan for this, but the sickness has unfortunately taken me, and I’m just going with the flow atp 😇 prepare for more of my Farah braindumps after i’m mildly more alive 😚

-

Farah & Sick!reader drabble 😚

(Tws: vague sickness, fever 👍)

Lets start this off with the simple fact that- she’s the queen of home remedies. You could pick up some degenerative alien disease from a far off solar system, and she probably has something for it. Mot to mention that she’s pretty good at making said remedies notably more appealing, which definitely doesn’t hurt. Sure, she won’t shy away from medicating you, more than prepared to deal with your slightly high shenanigans, but it’s definitely nice to not be drugged up instantly.

She’s also absolutely attached to you at the hip. It’s like she’s given herself the job of your personal nurse, or something. Of course, she’s doing what’s best for you, but she folds just a little at the sight of your soft, weepy eyes.

Admittedly, she’s not the best cook on the planet. She has more important responsibilities than learning to cook. However, for you? She digs up every family recipe she could find, probably digging up an old scrapbook or two of her grandparent’s meanwhile. She’s determined to shower you in gourmet-level food as much as humanly possible, even if that means constantly ducking out of the kitchen to check on you, cuddled up on the couch.

Speaking of cuddles, she’s an absolute cuddle monster. The second you’ll let her, she’s buried alongside you, her gentle warmth dissolving into tour achy muscles, your pounding head showered in soft little kisses - even a couple on the lips, if she can sneak them, because, no, love, she doesn’t care about getting sick, she’ll live.

And, of course, she’ll insist on a nice bath with you, seeing as she just wants to see you better, sweetheart. Her getting to snuggle up with you in the tub is definitely just a happy coincidence.

Bathing with Farah is absolutely heavenly. She fills up the tub herself, happily murmuring pleasant little anecdotes and warm comforts into your ears as lukewarm water splashes around behind you. Gently helping you out of your pyjamas (well, her pyjamas, that were practically yours at this point), she dips her foot into the water, feeling the coolish liquid cover her feet. She slowly eases you in, a slight guilt pooling in her heart as you whine about just how cold the water felt. She keeps you buried in her arms throughout, kissing your cheeks and praising you sweetly, even letting you tuck your face against her shoulder.

Once you’re actually in, the bath is a near-perfect affair. Farah keeps you against her chest the entire time, happily kneading at your pained muscles, letting the water wash away the sweat staining your skin. She guides you down softly, supporting your neck with a gentle, rough hand as she dips your hair into the water, letting it wash away the tightness behind your eyes as best it could, easily tasking herself with washing your hair. It’s like she turns into your personal masseuse, looping a leg around your hips to keep you safely tucked against her, stroking delicately through the soft strands of your hair, loving hands brushing against their perfect spot on your scalp, leaving your muscles at a similar consistency to the water you were surrounded by.

She takes to washing your hair easily, lathering each product in her hands and warmly rubbing them in, pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead between each one (her face occasionally scrunches as the misplaced product stains her mouth, but it’s worth it to see the little contented smile against your lips).

Thankfully, she doesn’t shy away from care elsewhere, either. She easily lathers each skincare product against your prone form, adjusting you gently against her arms to completely cover every inch of your sweet, delicate skin. Of course, each touch is punctuated with a little massage, hoping to soothe each and every inch of your sickly form, along with her fair share of kisses.

Unsurprisingly, getting out of the tub felt like hell. Sure, the water was mildly cold, but you’d adjusted to it, at this point, lazing easily against Farah’s warmth like a cat in the sun. You definitely felt like a wet cat as she eased you up, shivers immediately picking up the second your skin was exposed to the icy-seeming air. A snug, fluffy towel was wrapped around you almost immediately, with Farah swiftly reaching out to crank the heating up - just enough to keep the temperature difference from making your sickness worse.

Farah was quick to herd you into the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and exchanging the, now damp, towel for a cosy robe she’d bought a while ago, surprisingly still unused.

And, before you could even consider protesting, she was crouched between your legs, gently towelling down the damp skin. She slowly made her way up, from your feet all the way up to your hair, occasionally popping to and from the bathroom, finishing off your skin and hair care.

By the time she’d finished, you were cuddled up in another - notably lighter - pair of her pyjamas, buried safely on her side of the bed, her honeyed scent filling your senses. Your head was pillowed against her chest, eyes trained vaguely before you as she flicked through her movie catalogue, looking for something peaceful yet entertaining.

Eventually, after her careful deliberation, she decides on some lighthearted romcom. It doesn’t particularly matter at this point, though, seeing as you’d conked out before the opening credits had even begun, your soft, purring snores filling the room and bringing a loving smile to her face. Looking after you so delicately had been amazing, but she was absolutely relieved you were finally getting the sleep your body so desperately needed.

Sighing happily, she lays the two of you down, snuggling beneath the covers and kissing you goodnight, easily falling into slumber in her favourite place - cuddled up beside you.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 11 - She

Summary: let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation.

masterlist

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notes: w o a h. this halloween story took so long that it’s half-past november. but finally, here it is. sorry it took so long, dearest readers. i feel like this is short af for some reason, even tho it’s fucking 6,6k words? idk i hope you like it <3 my timeline might be a bit off with this one - you’ll know what i’m talking about when you get there - but hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. the next chapter will be very important, so fingers crossed guys, let’s hope that it turns out cool! love you all <3

tws: mentions of shitty childhood, awkwardness, realisations. rude words (btw tipper gore is a ***** **** ** ***).

songs:

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October 31st, 1988

“Oh, look at you!” Keeva hollered as Jeff emerged from the staff room of the café, wearing little furry cat ears on top of his bandana. “Will you meow for me?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but you know - anything for the birthday girl,” Jeff shrugged and started re-filling the to-go cups.

“It’s a marketing strategy, Ames. You and your trapezoid jawline paired with cat ears equal big Halloween tips from every chick that walks through that door,” she explained, pointing at the paper bat decorations hanging along the walls. “And I really appreciate it, you’re like my little personal party clown!”

Keeva dreaded the celebrations that came with birthdays but thankfully, being born on Halloween slightly diluted everyone’s attention.

Back home, her birthday was usually acknowledged as an afterthought at dodgy Halloween parties and celebrated with a round or two of cheap alcohol. She never had enough friends to have a proper birthday party, but she didn’t mind - even a simple congratulation was a tough moment of awkwardness to swallow, so she appreciated the peace that came with being alone in the world.

But now, being in Seattle, she made more good friends in a year than any friends during all of the twenty years she’d been alive. And it showed - the day before, she visited Andy at the rehab center and he somehow managed to sneak in a piece of cake and wrote her a little song. They talked for hours, laughed, cried - and that alone was the most heartwarming celebration she’d ever had, which was strange considering the circumstances.

Chris called her first thing in the morning to congratulate her and to make sure she and Stone could make it to the release party of Soundgarden’s first album. It was supposed to be Halloween-themed - he was trying to sniff out whether they already had their costumes.

As soon as she came to work, Jeff popped out of the staff door with a cupcake and his signature cat-like grin, singing Happy Birthday as loud as he could because he knew she would be embarrassed - he got her the new guitar strings she’d been dying to try out.

But to her surprise, Stone didn’t tease her much in the morning before they both left for work. In fact, he didn’t make much of a fuss at all. She was glad, but deep inside she’d hoped that he would be the one to tease her the most, as always. It was strange that he was deliberately missing the opportunity to embarrass her.

“Well, if you make it ‘til the end of the day through all the birthday crap, you might get a little something.”

Keeva was inspired when Jeff put on Kiss at work a few days earlier - she did have a certain phase when she was a pre-teen, so she decided to tap into her inner child and dress up as Ace Frehley on the cover photo of Dressed To Kill. She’d borrowed a suit from Stone - she had to heavily cuff the pants and the sleeves and her tie was a couple of inches longer than it should be, but the whole attire ended up looking not too shabby.

The guys’ album was amazing. Electric, heavy and nothing like anything else going around. They played it live from start to finish at the official release party with all the important folks and then moved on to Kelly Curtis’s house to a more intimate party.

Keeva dropped the jacket some time ago, so there she was, sitting on the fluffy carpet of Kelly’s floor, her back resting against the wall. After tapping off the debris from her cigarette in the ashtray next to her, she took a big drag and let the smoke out through her nose with a big exhale.

She rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt and loosened the tie around her neck. When she was done, she sat back and silently observed the mayhem going around her - and for once in her life, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than a party.

Regan, sporting denim overalls and a straw hat, was in the corner next to the snack table, listening to a girl with pink bunny ears as she animatedly explained something to him. When he giggled, Keeva squinted with an amused smirk.

Is he blushing? What the hell…

Jerry, Mike and Sean from Alice - as the Three Blind Mice - were standing in a circle with Susan, who was the Tooth Fairy (Chris was the tooth), holding hands and frolicking to the rhythm of the Paula Abdul song that was booming through the speakers. She scoffed and took another puff.

God, Stoney must be having a field day with this soundtrack.

On cue, she searched for him in the crowd. He wasn’t with Kim or Jeff - The Godfather and Steven Tyler - who were standing by the speakers laughing, neither he was anywhere around the snack table. But after a few minutes of searching, her eyes finally fell upon him - he was alone, sitting on a cushion next to the fireplace and reading a magazine.

His face was obscured with thick weed smoke that swirled from his pipe, but the silver glitter around his eyes twinkled even through the cloud. She couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his green boa jacket.

“Well, what do you think?” he exclaimed when he walked out of the bathroom and twirled around. She did a spit-take just as she was finishing her tea and stared at him. He had silver glitter smeared all over his eyes, along with some really strong black eyeliner. He had his hair down. It was unusually wavy today.

He looked otherworldly - from the neck up, that was. Keeva couldn’t hold a loud laugh when she darted between the big fluffy feathers he was wearing and the torn, clearly home-dyed jeans of a similar shade.

“You’re a hot frog?” she questioned, unable to tear her eyes off of the outrageous outfit. Stone rolled his eyes.

“No, try again.”

“A glittered-up bag of weed?”

“What? No!”

“A glammy quasi-reptile?”

“Yes! Exactly! I’m T-Rex!” he said and failed to keep a straight face, breaking into giggles. “T-Rex. Get it?”

She started cackling, too and felt her face paint smudge as the laughter forced a tear out of her eye.

“Sometimes I can’t decide if you’re a misunderstood genius or a complete moron.”

“Both can be true at the same time, Baby.”

Just as she was about to get up and go to him, something caught her attention.

Huh?

She wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly, but under the general chattering and music appeared a silent melody from the other room. She could barely decipher the song.

Who the fuck is playing Stevie Ray Vaughan at one in the morning in the middle of a house party?

Her eyebrows knitted as she leaned backwards, curiously peeking into the room next to the hallway. Her lips slowly curled into an amused grin.

On a big velvet armchair next to the window sat a guy, clutching an acoustic guitar as he leaned closer to a record player to hear better. He was thin as a twig, the shadows of his ribcage kinda made him look like a kid. She could see all of that, because - for whatever reason - he was shirtless. He nodded his head back and forth to the rhythm of the song, brown hair shaking from side to side.

The widest of smiles spread across her face when he flipped his hair away, revealing his face - and most importantly the poorly drawn Ace makeup that was smudged all over it.

His eyes were rolled back into his skull and she could’ve sworn a droplet of drool was forming in the corner of his mouth. Most likely because he was shredding licks like there was no tomorrow.

He wasn’t playing as precisely as Stone or as sneakily as her - he was a completely different beast. It reminded her of a strange shamanic ritual, like he was trying to summon some sort of a blues deity that was living inside of him.

Keeva tried to perk her ears as much as she could, but she couldn’t properly hear him, so she decided to move a bit closer. She hopped up and snaked through the crowd to the other room. Even though the floor creaked as she stepped into the doorframe, the guy didn’t notice at all and continued his meditation.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as her grin grew wider. The way he was able to sustain the licks on an acoustic was mesmerizing. She was surprised she’d never seen him around before. Then, the record scratched and he went on his own for a few moments before finally stopping.

When he opened his eyes and noticed Keeva, he jumped in the armchair and let out a loud gasp. She could’ve sworn he muttered the tiniest “Ace?” under his breath in shock before grounding himself in reality.

Keeva giggled as he clutched on his chest. She could pinpoint the moment he snapped out of the trance - the melody visibly disappeared from his brown eyes as he rapidly blinked to focus on her, clearly somehow still not certain if Ace Frehley was really just standing there, judging his guitar playing.

That apparently wasn’t an easy task - with the way he was swaying in the armchair, rock and roll clearly wasn’t the only thing he was high on.

“Shit, how long have you been here?” he mumbled after he rubbed his eyes and squinted to get a better look at his surroundings. She sighed and nonchalantly checked her non-existent watch.

“About an hour and a half,” Keeva shrugged, but couldn’t keep a straight face when his button eyes nearly popped out of his head. Along with the thin pointy nose and bushy eyebrows, he reminded her of some small owl.

“Christ, sorry. Like, ten minutes,” she giggled, scratching her head. He huffed and cursed under his breath, softly banging his head against the guitar to wake himself up.

“Sneaking away, are we, Ace?” he questioned, giving her a cheeky smile. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ace. You’re the one shredding along with the mighty SRV instead of socializing,” she quipped back but slowly began to feel bad that she interrupted what was clearly a moment of absolute peace.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you, just wanted to hear you better. I’ll be on my way again,” she continued and gave him a small smile, tapping the doorframe. “Just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing.”

“Uh, no, I’m rusty as hell, sorry. Haven’t played in some time. Thanks so much, though, thanks!” he humbly retorted just as she was turning around to leave. “I’m Mike, by the way!”

Keeva turned back and chuckled.

Rusty my ass. If you’re rusty, then I’m a freshly mummified Egyptian.

“Hey, Mike, I’m Keev-”

“Kiki, I know! So nice to meet you, greenie! Loved the show last night,” he babbled, motioning her to come back into the room. His enthusiasm was too contagious to shrug him off.

“Glad you did, Mike -” Keeva giggled and then a realization hit her, her eyes widening. “Wait. Mike…Mike? As in McCready?”

“Yeah?” he said, raising his eyebrows. She gasped.

“Oh man, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around!” she excitedly clapped and pattered over to him like a giddy child. She sat on the floor next to him, crossing her legs.

“Yeah, just got back a couple of months ago,” Mike said with a little slur in his voice. Her heart skipped a beat.

Fuck. Shadow. Let’s not go there.

"Stoney told me so much about you!” she rushed to change the subject and patted his bony knee. “Feel like I should get an autograph or something.”

“Not sure if that’s good or bad,” he chuckled and Keeva noticed a little blush filling his cheeks, even through the smudged white paint.

“Are you joking? We have a signed Shadow poster on the wall, sometimes I touch the little heart above the ‘i’ in your name for good luck,” she giggled again, but mentally punched herself.

Shit. No Shadow, idiot.

Mike was clearly not sure whether he should be happy or not.

“That’s cool.”

A few moments of awkward silence filled the otherwise empty room before he slid from the armchair like an eel and sat next to her, putting the guitar down in his place.

“Love the Jag, by the way! Such a cool one,” Mike said and ran his hand through his hair. Keeva grinned.

“Thanks! I love offsets in general, but Jags just have a special place in my heart. It’s like they have a bunch of built-in effects.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never learned how to work them,” he explained with a chuckle. “It feels like you gotta know fucking quantum physics to figure out all the switches.”

“Good point,” she leaned on her knees. “I’ve never really played anything else for as long, so…”

Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Wait, like this is your first guitar?”

“Well,” Keeva sighed. “Before that, I had a cheap little Mustang that fell apart almost as soon as I brought it home - bought that one off a kid at school for a bag of weed I stole from my parents.”

His innocent laugh indicated that he probably thought that was a cool thing. She continued with a shrug.

“So the first proper guitar, yeah. Seven years and counting. Although I think it’s, like, a ‘64, so it’s been going for quite some time.”

“Woah, nice,” he nodded and whistled. “Mom and Dad gave it to you?”

She let out a bitter scoff, which made him jump a little.

“Pft, fuck no,” she waved her hand and paused for a second. She surely wasn’t one to share childhood stories with anyone she stumbled upon at a party, but something about Mike’s eyes was so kind, so inviting. Like an old friend catching up with you, eagerly waiting to hear the tales of what had happened while he was gone. “One day I stumbled upon this tiny little music store near Shoreditch, that’s where I lived. I needed my Mustang repaired real bad - something wrong with the bridge.”

A tiny girl walked through a dim alleyway, dragging a guitar case that was nearly bigger than her - she was clearly struggling, her thin arms about as strong as two matchsticks. Little mousy curls were sticking out of her two pigtails as if she hadn’t brushed them for days and then braided them without a mirror.

Her eyebrows were twisted in a nervous frown and she chewed on her lips - even they were peppered with fair freckles, matching her whole face.

As she nearly stumbled through the door into a shabby music store, the bell above the frame rang so loudly she had to cringe. And her stress only grew when she walked in - behind the counter stood a man with a bushy beard, full of muscle and sporting an irritated glare.

He must’ve been at least six-foot-five. His huge hairy arms were crossed as he scanned her up and down, his face still hardened.

She could tell that he stopped to stare at the alarming grey patch of hair that was woven through the curls above her forehead - along with the deep dark circles under her eyes, it was obviously puzzling. Clearly, his sales didn’t come from malnourished greying pre-teens.

“Can I help you, pipsqueak?” he asked. His voice was gravely and deep as if he’d been smoking red Marbs ever since he was born - which must’ve been at least fifty years ago. She shuddered and dared to walk a bit closer.

“Um, t-this is my Mustang - I mean, my guitar,” she squeaked, looking everywhere but his face. The man scoffed.

“Yeah, I know what a Mustang is, love. What’s wrong with it?” he pressed and leaned on the counter. “Speak up, I don’t have all day.”

His accent was so thick that she had a tough time understanding him, even though she was born in this East End hovel with a similar one.

She had to swallow a sarcastic remark about his delusional belief that he was busy.

This is a run-down music shop in a dodgy alleyway in the middle of East London, mate. On a Tuesday.

“Well, here it is,” she said instead and struggled to lift the case up on the counter. When he reached out to help her, she gave him a shy smile and peeped a ‘thank you’.

He did a double-take between her and the guitar - the blue finish was battered and peeling, the bridge was covered in rust and the tuning pegs were falling apart.

“This bridge is fucking wank. This thing -” he pointed at the rusty piece of metal holding the strings. She interrupted him, though, unable to hold back her natural smart-ass attitude.

“Yeah, I know what a bridge is. Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with it?”

She was surprised when he heartily chuckled, shaking his head.

“Little shit.”

He lifted the guitar and started studying it from up close - it looked like a toy in his hands. He grumbled when he fiddled with the bridge under the strings - it was wiggling from side to side.

“There’s a lot more wrong than the bridge with this piece of shit, love. Might be cheaper for you to just buy a new one,” he shrugged, pulling on the squeaking tuning pegs.

A wave of warm tears flooded the girl’s eyes, but she bravely pushed them back, fishing around the pockets of her leather jacket - it was at least three sizes bigger than it should be. Her hand shaking, she laid a crumpled ten-pound note on the counter and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t crack.

“What could I get for this? Maybe new strings at least? Or if you could just change one or two tuning pegs? I’ll make it work,” she pleaded, her cheeks flaming bright red when he raised his eyebrows even higher, darting between her devastated eyes and the money.

“That’s not how tuning pegs work, love. And you can’t put strings into this. Ask your old folks for some cabbage, I’m sure they’ll help out,” he said and put the guitar back into the case.

He frowned when he noticed a tiny tear falling out of her eye as she still stubbornly stared into the floor.

“Like fuck they would,” she muttered under her breath and unceremoniously wiped her wet nose with her sleeve before putting on a small smile. “Sorry. It’s okay, sir, thank you. I’ll figure it out.”

He hummed and crossed his arms again, but his expression started to soften.

“Let me guess, this used to be a twenty-pounder but half got dissolved into booze.”

That was the moment she looked up at him, proudly straightening her back with a defiant frown.

“No, it did not! It used to be a twenty-pounder and I worked very hard for it!” she said, her eyes filling with tears again. “Dad bought a bag of coke for the rest, not me.”

The man let out a big sigh and scratched the back of his neck, clearly feeling bad for judging so quickly.

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” he said and reached out to clumsily pet her head. “My folks were the same. I’d tell you it gets better, but you just gotta wait ‘til you’re old enough to move as far away as possible.”

“Yeah,” she peeped and started scratching off the already peeling faux leather on the case. There were a few moments of awkward silence as the man thought of his next words and then he pointed at her chest.

“You know any Zappa?” he asked, his voice gruff again. She nearly forgot she had this t-shirt on and now she regretted it. Warm goosebumps ran through her from head to toe and she felt like she was going to be sick. She didn’t expect having to play.

“N- well, y-yes…uh, I mean, no - or, I don’t know, I’m not very g-”

“You play me some Zappa and I’ll consider giving you a sale. Deal?” he raised his bushy eyebrows and walked behind a curtain made of wooden pearls before she could answer.

After a short minute, he came back - carrying a run-down pastel Fender Jaguar with deep wide scratches and dents in its baby pink lacquer. It was gorgeous.

“Try it on this one, love, think you two could be friends. Same attitude.”

Keeva woke herself up from the memory with a dreamy sigh, not even knowing how she told the story. But Mike’s smile was wide, latching onto each one of her words with an excited twinkle in his eyes.

“I ended up working in that shop, actually,” she said and couldn’t help but smile, too. “Mr. Hobbs kinda took me under his wing, taught me everything I know about music.”

“We should send him a gift basket, then,” he chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. She theatrically gasped and pressed her hand on her forehead.

“Oh, you flirt.”

Keeva could almost sense the familiar pattern of comically huge feet approaching the room.

“Who the hell is disturbing my Paula Abdul with this blues bull-” Stone’s mockingly agitated voice lamented as he entered. His coat was gone, hair even messier than before and glitter now all the way down to his chin. She couldn’t help a twitch in her eyebrow.

Fucking hell, why does he always look like he just made out with someone?

When Stone’s eyes fell on Mike, his grin grew so wide that his rare dimples appeared.

“Holy shit, McCready! I knew it was you! You’re fucking amazing,” he spewed and she eased up a bit. Stone suddenly had this childlike energy around him and it just melted her heart. And If Mike was excited before, now he was positively beaming.

“Stoney, my guy!” he exclaimed and spread his arms. “What’s up, man? Greenie here tried to sneak away but I trapped her. Saw the show last night, you guys are killing it.”

“Thanks, buddy!” Stone said, patting Mike’s shoulder. He sat down next to Keeva and slapped his knees. “You should’ve said hi!”

Mike scoffed.

“I had a shift from 5 AM today and you’re fucking irresistible. I knew you’d end up getting me hammered by midnight.”

“So you’re responsible now?” Stone groaned. “God dammit, another victim of the LA lifestyle.”

Another tense silence paused the happy attitude in the room. Keeva could tell Stone knew he talked before he thought his words through - just like her. Thankfully, Mike was happy to speak and change the subject.

“So when’s the record coming out?”

They both rolled their eyes and shrugged in unison, making Mike chuckle.

“Not sure yet,” Stone sighed. “It’s changing all the time. We want an EP out in Spring but no clue about the album.”

“Right now, we’re aiming for early ‘90, but God knows,” Keeva added and Mike’s eyes popped open.

“Early ‘90?!”

“Yeah,” Stone muttered. “Takes ages, I feel like it’s cursed or some shit.”

“How’s Andy doing?”

Now it was Mike’s turn to talk without thinking. And he, too, clearly regretted asking when they both let out an identical cheerless scoff followed by a big sigh.

“Great. Yeah, he’s great. Good,” Stone repeated, trying to sound positive. Keeva took a quick peek at him before nodding.

“Great,” she said, giving Mike a tight-lipped smile. His eyebrows knitted and he nodded, too.

“Got it.”

Suddenly, it seemed like no one in the room wanted to talk - as if they were all scared that they’d make another unfortunate remark. The joy in the room was snuffed out too easily for Keeva’s liking.

Just when she thought this birthday would pass without crying, she knew that was exactly the plan her mind made up for when they come home.

“So you guys live together I’ve heard?” Mike broke the silence, trying to lift the mood. “Finally moved out of your parent's basement, Stoney?”

That made Stone chuckle and Keeva took the opportunity to jab at him. It always loosened the mood in the crowd - somehow, people enjoyed watching them bicker.

“Still live in the shack behind their house, only there’s two of us now,” she said, elbowing Stone in the ribs when he reached out to pinch her waist.

“Yeah, I guess Baby expected to move into the fucking Waldorf-Astoria when I told her I have a free attic room,” he gritted his teeth as he pulled on her hair, causing her to yelp and slap his thigh.

“You never mentioned your sweaty underwear on the bathroom floor, you smart-ass,” she hissed back and kicked his shin, causing him to retreat and raise his arms in surrender while sticking his tongue out.

Finally, Mike broke into joyful laughter and they looked at him, both hiding a satisfied grin from each other.

“How long has that been going on?” Mike said through giggles, pointing a finger between them. “You’re cute as fuck together.”

Once again, the joy turned into awkwardness.

“Oh, we’re not - no. God, no,” Keeva babbled, forcing a disgusted grimace. She looked at Stone, who followed her suit and raised his eyebrows”

“Ever heard of the term ‘roommate’?”

Mike darted between them for a few seconds and then squinted.

“…yeah, right.”

Not allowing another cringy silence, Mike quickly whipped out his wallet and took out a scratched laminated card with dog ears.

“Check this out, Stoney!”

Keeva felt her eyes fill with tears as she stared at the silver-rank Ace Frehley collectible card in front of her as if it were the Holy Grail.

No fucking way.

“Holy shit,” Stone exclaimed and lunged forward, snatching the card from Mike’s hand. “You still have it!”

Keeva followed it with her eyes, pushing the tears back with an unbelieving smile. It was as if their words were deep under the sea, dulled in her ears by the mass of water.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Yup, my good luck charm,” Mike proudly straightened his back, laughing when Stone slapped his forehead.

“Oh man, you ripped me off pretty bad on this one. Who did I get for it again? A bronze Lemmy?”

Before Mike could answer, Keeva entered their conversation, her voice still breathy with disbelief.

“Fucking hell. I can’t believe you actually have it,” she whispered, reaching out. “Can I hold it?”

Stone frowned and snorted, clearly thinking it was one of her sarcastic routines. She looked at him with such sincerity that he handed it to her without question, though.

“You good?” he asked and she shuddered when her fingers brushed against his. They were soft and cold as ice, casually handing her a piece of her lost innocence.

“Yeah, just…fuck. Long story,” she shook her head, still smiling as she studied the silver line around the card, running her thumb across the printed figure of the twig-thin man in the same face paint that was smudged on her cheeks.

“It’s not like he’s busy or anything,” Stone said, hoping to get a reaction from her, but he only got a punch in the arm from Mike.

“Fuck off, Gossard,” he chuckled. “You go on, greenie.”

For the second time that night, Keeva decided to share a memory, still squeezing the card as if her life depended on it.

“Well, first off, I was never really that into them until I saw them on the telly in, uh…’76 I think? A re-run of The Midnight Special show -“

“Oh!” Mike popped in, clearly aware of what she was talking about. Stone seemed to have no clue, though. “Good ol’ sexual awakening by Paul Stanley’s chest hair?”

“Uh, not exactly,” she grinned and looked up at them for a second before turning her attention back to the card. “You know how Ace ripped that solo on She?”

Keeva saw Mike nod in her peripheral, while Stone shook his head.

“Tall as fuck, hunching, built like a malnourished toothpick, face full of weird makeup. The shiny Sunburst…” she dreamily sighed and slowly laid on her back, lifting her feet up on the armchair. She felt a bit lightheaded. “Man, I was gone.”

She turned to them again, clutching the card to her chest like a teenage girl with her diary. Mike was beaming with enthusiastic nods. Stone, though, had one of his unreadable expressions on, laced with a small smirk. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she dared to linger on the sparkles around his overwhelming eyes.

It’s your birthday, girlie. Be a little bold.

“So that planted the seeds of my chronically bizarre taste in men.”

“Entertain me,” Mike chuckled, suddenly unaware of the subtext behind her stare. Keeva snapped to the ceiling, leaving Stone’s puzzled squint behind. She focused on the tiny cracks near the light - she couldn’t tell them apart from dirt smudges thanks to her poor eyesight.

Stoney Gossard’s bony shoulders accidentally shimmying off his kaleidoscope vest.

He’s so unathletic.

“Uh, Peter Gabriel - stage makeup and reverse mohawk phase,” she started counting on her fingers.

Stoney Gossard’s chicken legs bunny-hopping around the stage.

God, he’s like a newborn chicken.

“- Thin White Duke,”

Stoney Gossard’s sweaty nose scrunching when he mouths his own riffs like a nerd.

It’s definitely too big for his face. Isn’t it? It is.

“- Brian May and his spider fingers in that white bat wing blouse…”

Stoney Gossard’s bug eyes dissociating into a different plane of existence. Glowing in the harsh stage lights like two eerie gems, silver eyeshadow running all the way down to his cheekbones. Black eyeliner smudging around his eyelids, glistening with beads of sweat.

He looks so unhinged, it’s baffling.

Stoney Gossard. Period.

“Yeah, that is a fucking weird bunch,” Stone’s irresistibly annoying voice snapped her back to reality as if to spite her.

Yup.

“Thanks, Stoney. Anyway, after that, I was looking for an Ace card for years, and it was nowhere to be found. Couldn’t get any records either, ‘cause even though I was saving up, they were always sold out…so I gave up after a while,” she continued her story.

“But, like, four years later, one of the kids from band brought a tape to a rehearsal, the Kiss interview with Tom Snyder.”

Mike nodded again, leaning forward like he wanted to encourage her to keep on remembering.

“And Ace was fucking wasted, funny as hell - that maniacal laugh. It was hysterical, the best thing I’ve ever seen. True love never grows old, I guess,” she chuckled and lifted the card to her face again to admire it. “I think that was the day that I changed from a girl to a woman.”

“Honestly, I think I changed from a boy to a man with that one,” Mike said, making her giggle.

“I believe that. Well, the next day, the record store I talked about got stocked and they had a silver Ace card, just like this one.”

She allowed herself a second to decide if she wanted to continue.

“I didn’t have any money, though, so I dragged myself to my favourite spot in Hyde Park and cried for hours.”

Okay, that’s enough for today.

As endearing as Mike was, she felt like she could’ve told the whole story only if it was just her and Stone in the room. And that made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever admit to herself.

Strangely enough, maybe she would admit it to him.

“Christ, that’s devastating,” Mike said and reluctantly took the card back when she handed it to him with a sincere grin.

“It felt like the worst day of my life. And my parents were dope addicts, so that’s saying something.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

As soon as they got home, Keeva let out a loud groan.

“Home sweet home. Man, I can’t wait to take this shit off my face, ugh,” she shivered and headed straight to the bathroom.

“At least your tear ducts aren’t blocked by glitter,” Stone mumbled, clearly tired as well.

“Your choice, smart-ass,” she called before she closed the door behind her.

They talked to Mike for a few more hours and then beelined straight home, surprisingly from Stone’s initiative. He was really eager to go for some reason. They didn’t drink that much, considering that it was such an event. Keeva was tired from all the dealing with Polygram and clearly Stone must’ve been too.

When she finally rubbed all the makeup off, she got out of the bathroom, but he wasn’t there. The curtain to her room was open, though.

Shit, is he up there? It’s so messy, Jesus. I left the bra right in front of the entrance.

“Stoney?” she called, confused.

“Uh, over here!” his voice came back from upstairs - even further than her room. Then she had a realization.

Oh. The roof window?

Keeva hopped up the stairs. The window was indeed open, just big enough for one person to squeeze through. The roof wasn’t really angled and seemed kind of stable, but…

“The hell? Are you snooping around my room? You won’t find anything, officer! Search the bottom floor, my roomie consumes more grass than a common barn animal -“

She trailed off.

“Ta-da!” Stone exclaimed and threw his arms open just as she popped her head up the window. She felt like she was in a dream.

There was a thick checkered blanket spread on the wonky roof tiles and on it laid a bunch of snacks, a six-pack, Stone’s acoustic, a few scattered papers and a plate with a tower of pancakes, a lit candle stuck in the top one.

“Come hither! Sorry that I didn’t get a cake, but I made your favourite trampled-tyre-instant-pancake extravaganza earlier,” he said and reached out to help her up. When she was fully on the roof, he scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin as he continued to ramble.

“Oh, and I brought a guitar and your notes for the stuff we haven’t finished yet, you know, in case you wanted to work on them so you wouldn’t be stressed. And I got you something else than a Bud for a change. And I have some Sun Chips and that disgusting cheddar dip you love, you know, the one that doesn’t share a single molecule with any kind of cheese on the planet. And a pack of M&M’s that only has the brown ones. And we have grapes! Grapes! Can you believe that? Can you? Uh…happy b-”

Keeva almost knocked the wind out of him with the sheer strength of her hug. A risky move since they were standing on a lousy roof, but she couldn’t think about anything else than him at that moment.

No. I can’t say it. I’m not gonna say it. Don’t say it.

“I love - I love it. Thank you so much, Stoney,” she mumbled, burying her flaming red cheeks into his chest. He chuckled and tightly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

“I know you said you hate surprises but I thought that maybe -”

“You changed my mind,” she finished his sentence and hoped that he would realize the weight of that statement. She felt a tiny kiss in her hair and before she could say anything else, he lifted her from the ground and swung her around like a doll.

“Holy shit, we’re standing on a roof! Put me down!” Keeva yelped, but couldn’t help but laugh at Stone’s little ‘wee’ sounds as the material squeaked under them. When he put her back down, he quickly flicked her nose and reached for a little paper bag next to the pancakes.

“This is for you.”

She grinned as she peeked into it, a blush spreading across her face. Her smile grew even wider when she pulled out an oversized black t-shirt, her eyes popping open. It had a big handwritten sign that spelled ‘I FUCKED TIPPER GORE’.

“It might be a little big, but I thought it was funny.”

He remembered the night they spent in the middle of the woods on his birthday drinking and devouring every snack they got their hands on. And he remembered their hour-long discussion about the whole ‘85 Tipper Sticker fiasco and her uncompromising drunken monologue.

“They just can’t handle the fact that music is inherently sexual! Like, it always has been and always will be, the very first songs were either religious or love songs and that makes complete sense! And when you play, you’re completely devoured by music as a feeling and it controls you. Your movements, your tempo, the way you slide on the strings, everything. You are fully under its control. And if music decides that it wants to express itself in an erotic way, then fucking fine! There’s nothing I can do, I’m just a medium that the music uses to do what it pleases. Christ, fucking ‘mothers for chastity’ my ass. No sad middle-aged housewives whose husbands don’t fuck them enough should have the power to tell kids what they should and shouldn’t listen to or how they should or shouldn’t express themselves. Especially when you just know those creepy old hags have been getting railed from the back in the front seat of a car at the drive-in movies not too long ago and creamed their knickers every time Elvis shook his fucking ass.”

Stone didn’t say anything after that, just broke into a fit of hysterical laughter until he couldn’t breathe.

“You made this by hand? For me?” Keeva said, astonished at the craftsmanship. He shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed by the homemade gift.

“I took one of my plain black t-shirts and bought some fabric paint, the one that you iron after painting so it stays on. And, uh, yeah…I- I’m sorry it’s so shitty, but I wanted to give you something s-”

“It is so special, Stoney. I love it so much, I don’t even - I don’t know what to say, all of this is just…thank you, really,” she stuttered, giving him one more tight hug.

“It was like a ‘eureka’ moment for me back there, so I thought that the rant needed to be immortalized,” Stone chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“A what? Why?” she giggled as she pulled away and started putting the t-shirt back in the bag.

“Uh, let’s just…let’s say that it was bad for my self-preservation,” he mumbled with a smirk and sat down on the blanket. Keeva wanted to comment on Stone’s sudden sheepishness, but it was like she was frozen in a spot at the sheer beauty of the moment.

The sky was almost laughably cliché - clear with countless twinkling stars and a full moon that shined so bright it made Stone’s skin look almost transparent. The whole city skyline was visible from where she stood, the Needle proudly stretching out into the settling fog.

“Well, let’s rip off the bandaid, Baby,” his obnoxiously charming nasal voice tore her out of her thoughts. “Your cake is getting more inedible with every minute and I don’t want you to chip your little vampire teeth before you even got a chance to suck me.”

And when she looked at her grinning friend, Keeva felt lightheaded.

Stone’s eyes were glowing brighter than ever - a head-spinning green field, full of mischief and hope for the future - as a realization slowly wrapped around her whole body like a delightfully warm blanket.

I’m in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[thegeminisage]

UGGGHHH ok its star trek update time, Special Deep Space Nine Finale Edition

did not love the finale. mostly this comes down to two things 1. pacing bad 2. everybody's ending sucked

pacing problem: the pah wraiths came in at the last second, AFTER the big space battle was all done. it really feels like they should have been directly involved with the battle somehow, like that time sisko vaporized all those spaceships. also, speaking of that, wasn't not getting to rest on bajor his trade for making that happen? yet it didn't get brought up at ALL. ok. more on that later. anyway, the pah wraith thing seemed like a fucking afterthought, which was crazy considering we had winn and dukat scheming and plotting for all those episodes. one would expect the pah wraiths to be like. actually let out. to Do Something. to be scary. we have been building up to this! and yet. nothing happened. a lot of other plots were also wrapped up way too quickly - ezri's romance with julian, miles leaving, etc - but that's more a problem with the endings being bad - they did not have time to build up to what they decided on, or maybe they did and just chose not to utilize it wisely

endings - going thru this character by character

SISKO: this is of course is the very worst offender. avery brooks spent 7 years putting blood sweat and tears into a positive portrayal of a black father only to be contractually obligated to act out a deadbeat dad plot in the 11th hour? man, no wonder he was pissed. there was also no explanation of WHY he had to live in the wormhole, it was just more mysterious wormhole alien stuff. if it's punishment or a trade for what he did before, why not remind us? and i definitely get why avery brooks wanted them to do this rather than him just not ever coming back at all, but it's such a copout to be like "and then he has more adventures" when we can't conceptualize of what those adventures might be, and doubly so when there was no sure bet of having a ds9 movie later, bc they didn't get to have one!!! overall the entire wormhole alien plot in s7 got REALLY weird to me, with a tone shift + lack of explanations about literally anything, and wrapping up sisko's fate in their lore fell short because of that reason too. preferred ending for sisko would have been for him to die during the big battle, then come back right as everyone got overrun by pah-wraiths to save them. if he HAD to go into the wormhole, could his family had come with him? if he had to sacrifice something to win the battle, could it have been a future on bajor specifically, or connection with the prophets? idk, amnesia or something? his sight, like dukat? it was just a bad ending.

JAKE & KASIDY: putting them together because what the hell lol. the final shot of jake looking out the window while kira comforted him might as well have been ripped from the visitor...genuinely it's disappointing they enver found anything cool to do with jake, because i feel like there are a lot of good stories you could wring out of "journalist who covers the war and comes of age at the same time." i could almost see him teaming up with bashir to root out section 31 or something like that. as for kasidy, i've said this before, but it's so unfair to both her and sisko that she was basically invented to be his perfect woman and never got a personality of her own, and DOUBLY unfair to knock her up in the penultimate episode just to drag cheap tearjerker shit out of sisko's ending, which was bad. it's the same thing as having jadzia discuss a baby right before they kill HER. what is wrong with these guys??? plus, we didn't even a discussion of what they'll do now. wait for sisko on ds9? go to earth and live with grandpa sisko? remain together so jake can help with his new sibling? jake didn't even get to say goodbye to his dad. we got a scene with KASIDY, who, love and light, has even less personality/stuff going on than jake did.

O'BRIEN: this was the only ending (besides worf's) i actually liked/understood, though i feel like it didn't get nearly enough screentime. war's over, o'brien has served long enough, it's time for him to go back to the safety of utopia with his family. i like his plot about not being able to tell julian goodbye, it reminded me of the mash movie, but i wish they hadn't wrapped it up in the MIDDLE of a battle scene. like, what??

JULIAN & EZRI: i absolutely HATE that ezri became julian's replacement miles. i almost understand why they got together because when i tried to conceptualize my ideal ending for ezri it was ??? because i don't know enough about her passions and desires. where does ezri dax believe she can do the most good? where does she want to spend her life? with whom? obviously i'm into ezri/quark and ezri/worf, and i would have been fine with her staying with either of them, but with julian? and he just...stays on ds9? i was so sure julian was gonna dedicate himself to taking down section 31 or fighting for the rights of genetically enhanced people. him fighting section 31 would have been a great ending because he could have said something like "i'll ring you up for advice as often as i can" to garak or something. just...hanging out on ds9 is boring if everybody else is gonna leave.

WORF: also mostly acceptable, though i still think he should have been chancellor. i guess then he can't just randomly show up in tng movies lol.

GARAK & DAMAR: it's such a fucking copout to kill damar. that speech garak gave, where he talked about the rich history of cardassia being reduced to ashes? where he talked about how some people would say cardassia deserved it for what they did to bajor and other worlds just like it? that should have been damar's speech. kira's "yeah damar what kind of people give those orders" was setting him up as someone who goes through what the bajoran people did and learn empathy from it. dukat could have never done it because he cares about himself first, but damar actually has principles. furthermore, giving garak the speech doesn't make any sense because for all the crimes garak has committed, they were ON CARDASSIA. he wasn't out doing the colonizing. he's done crimes but not those crimes. it makes no sense for him to have to live with them. GARAK'S moment was when he realized mila was dead and his house was about to be leveled and you can never actually go home. THAT was his moment, and it was incredible. he didn't need that double beat. i think a better idea for garak is to have him decide he doesn't want to be on cardassia anymore (kind of like klinger deciding he's not going back to america after all) and joining bashir in taking down section 31. not even just for shippy reasons, though there's that too, but i think he'd insist julian would need someone like him around, and he would be right. meanwhile damar leads cardassia, and he and kira being kinda-friends now means that they leave bajor alone and become allies in the future

KIRA AND ODO: what the fuck girl...ok, you know who needed the "i'll be back" ending? odo. "maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, but i'll be back" should have been odo's ending. i get him leaving. i even agree with him leaving. he's got to cure his people or he wouldn't be odo. and he deserves to spend a little time in the great link like he's always wanted to do. but part of what makes odo so compelling is that even though he loves his people, he condemns what they do, and he has come to love his found family more. if odo rejoins his people permanently to keep them on a leash then he's just another changeling. odo who every day chooses to be with and love people who are so fundamentally different from him is what's compelling. it's what makes his and kira's relationship so beautiful. as for kira, nothing could be lamer than her quiet no-rage acceptance of odo breaking her heart and giving her no goals or ambitions outside of that. i think she should have tried to work towards bajor joining the federation in sisko's absence, since that was his goal in the pilot. like maybe not NOW, but something to work for in the future.

DUKAT & WINN: so i was really hoping winn would push dukat into the fire, and it's very sad that she did not do that. i also have mixed feelings about her mini-redemption, since it was ultimately useless. if anything, winn should have thrown herself in with dukat to spare the emissary, like IF you were gonna redeem her. let's fuck the devil but for like ever. in hell. on the other hand, i would have preferred if she unceremoniously had dukat killed and then got possessed and became the final boss. i think an unceremonious death for dukat is kind of fitting because he wants to be important. if not unceremonious, at least something where he fucked around and FINALLY found out, you know?

NOG: he didn't? get?? an ending?? i think that final vic's scene should have been with nog instead of quark, because they were such good friends. they could worry about...

QUARK: while his goodbye to odo was PERFECT, i kind of wish there had been some emphasis on him being one of the few people to stay behind. in an ideal world, it's just him and nog and kira, and vic too i guess. even his brother is going back to ferenginar! he has no one to take care of or snipe at! i liked his final scene with kira, but i would have liked to lean a little more into it. if quark/ezri, he wouldn't mind being left behind because she'd be there with him, but if not, his talk about making everyone happy but himself includes creating a space for them to come back to. and since he can't have this chat with vic, he could have it with...

MORN: come on. ONE line of dialogue! it would have been so funny.

overall it still wasn't the worst thing i've ever watched. there were some positives. it was well acted. i was very fond of everyone. even though "the way you look tonight" went on a little long for me it did give me an emotion. i liked the flashbacks even though i missed jadzia (o'brien's and julian's was really gay). but jesus christ, what a mess!!

[thatonekreachur]

hhhhh finally I have time to now post this hshshshshhshs

anyways au

so um, yeah, so um uh...

Some days ago I decided to listen to a song for the first time, Symbiotic by Starset, and then i thought "wow. this is absolute broppy material." until it came to me.

guys, hear me out... in this au the trolls have glowy markings all over their body, and the bergans are giant machines that feed on their energy.

Also, the colors of the glowy bits on the pop trolls are like the colors of stars... they can be blue, like a hot blue star, or red, like a cool red star, or yellow, like our sun (even though it's kinda white...). Just a little detail of think is cool, and it's gonna be overall space and glowy themed and such!

And it will of course focus on our famous duo over there! Some things under the cut

The perks of this au includes:

Space and glowy themed ofc

Adding in to the worldbuilding

It will cover all three movies, and I will rewrite the story of each

More interaction between characters

Extra action and suspense and violence

So I am like torn between turning this au into a ao3 fanfic or a comic, or maybe both... idk... let me explain.

So, for comic, which is what I am really leaning into more, my art would look a little... flat at the start, and I would improve and advance as I work on it a little more. One disadvantage is how long the comic will take to complete. One other comic that I read on Deviantart literally took ten fucking years to complete, and for something that's going to cover three whole movies, I don't really think it's gonna be plausible.

Like, the comic will have an introduction chapter, and will be divided into three parts, each representing the three movies, with more being added with future installments. Like, if it will take ten fucking years to complete one part, then I will literally grow old and die before I even start one that will cover the potential fifth or sixth movie, not to mention the high chance of hitting artist's block. So my solution is to keep this short, but not too short to not make the plot feel rushed, and not too long so it won't literally take more than 2 years to complete...

So, for fanfic, it will take a lot less time to complete, and I get to learn how to write, but not how to draw. And for doing both, I get to learn how to draw and write but then I might overstimulate myself doing a buncha things at the same time.

But one thing for both of them is that I have to overcome the fear of writing the characters names on there, so you guys have to help me out on this one. I have no idea why I am afraid of putting the names on there, like its a bunch a words... what harm can they do?

I might've made the conclusion, I will do the comic one better. Guys if this feels a little rushed and the grammar feels broken is because I am writing this at the point where I need to go asleep and the melatonin is kicking in. so, yeah goodbye

[lingering-42-long]

Idk how many more ideas I have left in me lol

Request - König OR Rodolfo Parra x F! Reader [fluff]

Prompt/Idea - They're always writing poems/drawing stuff but they've lost inspiration. That's until they meet the reader on base or outside of the base, and immediately they begin to write/draw about them. The reader notices them and tries to talk to them, but they freak out and walk away, just for the art piece to fall out of their book. The reader picks it up and smiles

An Artist’s Muse

König x f! reader

I loved the idea of both so I may do another for Rudy. If this gets 20 likes I’ll do a Rudy version!

Sorry I have been inactive, I didn’t have any writing juice in me…. This is a short but sweet story. I changed it up a little bit because I didn’t read the full thing and I should’ve lol. I still think this is super sweet.

Warnings: none, fluff

Scenario: when König meets his girl for the first time, he gets the sudden urge to open his sketch book to draw.

Austria was a beautiful place with scenery that rivaled even some of the best locations anywhere else in Europe or America for that matter. König believed it wholeheartedly. This was his home where he grew up with his father and mother on their farm. He loved it here, though he hated the people of his town to some degree. But here he was sitting in another local area in a small café right outside of the main street. He was away from his obligations for a few months. He needed some time to recover and some time to rest. Just to be by himself.

One of his favorite past times was art. Growing up his mother sent him to an art school where he fell in love with art. He enjoyed doing a large variety of different things ranging from acrylic to oil watercolor and sketching with pencils and pens. He was a natural talent and everyone believed that he had a knack for it. He even entered a few of his pieces into a few contests and even one a little bit of prize money here and there. One might think that he would’ve chosen a path dealing with something in art for his career but he needed some thing else to channel his aggression, while art was a good way to relax, he still needed some thing else to fuel his mind.

As he was sitting, trying to think of some thing to draw, anything would be good at this point, he heard the door chime from where he was at his table. The café wasn’t usually busy at this time of the day but there were the occasional people that would be going back-and-forth ordering drinks or grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading off to another meeting or leaving to go do some thing. He didn’t like going during the times that were a little busy. As he took a sip from his coffee, he looked up to see a girl. This made him almost choke on his hot beverage, to him she was beautiful. Her hair flowed gracefully over her shoulders and her beautiful eye sparkled as she was trying her hardest to speak to the barista in his native tongue of German. It wasn’t good he wouldn’t lie but he could see the effort that she was trying. Thankfully the barista also knew English and help the girl out order her drink. König wanted to hide and not be seen. Out of all the days an angel had to land on this one particular afternoon.

The girl sat in a table next to a window across from him. She had brought a book to read and seems to be enjoying the hard cover. Inspiration hit him hard. Carefully pulling out his sketchpad once again, he began quietly working away every once in a while taking a quick glance in her direction just enough to remember features before sketching more on the page.

She stayed only for an hour before getting up, finishing her coffee, putting it in the trash, and waving goodbye to the baristas. He wanted to go after her, to show her what he had done so far, but he knew that would be awkward for both of them. She might think that he was stocking her and the last thing he wanted was to startle her. He was now pretty grumpy about the whole thing. All he wanted to do was to give her his drawing of her and hopes of asking her if she wanted to grab coffee soon, but now his chances were ruined because he didn’t have the courage to ask. He groaned and lightly hit his head against the table. He hated his social awkwardness, he always did. He just wanted the courage to go up and ask her.

Sighing, he picked up his equipment and put them back into his bag before he to finish this coffee and left for the day. As he walked out, he wanted to see if he could spot her anywhere on the street, but it was like she vanished. There was no trace of her. Cursing to himself quietly, he made his way to his car to head back to his families homestead.

3 weeks later

It has been three weeks since König had seen her and he finally lost hope in her coming back. Once again, he was sitting at his favorite table trying to come up with some idea to sketch some thing else outside of this memory of this mysterious girl. As he was about to give up, the door opened again and the same girl came back. She was talking to the barista about how she had made a trip to the capital city with some of her friends for school before ordering herself another cup of coffee and walking to the table where she sat last as she once again opened her book and began reading. König wasted in no time sketching out the finishing touches to her.

She got up to use the restroom and left her book open to the page where she was at. Taking in all of his courage, König stood up and with the paper in his hand, carefully placed it in her book where she was reading before hastily making his way back to his table hoping that the shadows hit him well enough for her not to notice. A part of him was praying that she would find him and talk to him and another part of him dreaded the idea of being caught.

When the girl came back she saw the paper and looked over it. A small blush formed over her cheeks as she quickly scanned the room for the person that could have done this. Her eyes landed on König, Who was fidgeting with his pencil sharpener, too nervous to look up. She closed her book and walked over to him.

“Did you do this?” She asked

König looked up and nodded shyly.

“It’s very beautiful.” The girl smiled, “Thank you for making me your muse.”

“O-oh no problem! You are very b-beautiful and I wanted to capture your radiance.” König Wanted to be run over by a truck. He sounded so cliché and stupid.

The girl blushed and gave a light laugh, “Well your not too bad yourself. I’m (y/n) by the way.”

“König.” He applied alittle to quickly and abruptly, but the girl didn’t seem to take notice of this.

“Conich?” She tried to say his name on her tongue.

“König.” He made the syllables a lot more clearer for her to hear.

“Con…Kön…ing…. König?” She asked looking at him if that was how she needed to say it.

The man grinned happily “Yes! Good!” He felt like there was a million butterflies just dancing around in his stomach. It made him happy and wanting to throw up all at the same time. Was this love? He felt at once a long time ago in his youth only to have it be betrayed on him.

“Well König, it was nice meeting you, your really good at this, you made my day…. Well I will see you around.”

“W-wait!” He stood up a little too fast making the table bump against his legs and the chair creek behind him. “Ummm…. I was wondering if you would like to grab some coffee sometime… if not I understand.” He couldn’t look at her directly. And fiddled with his hands as he was trying to come up with a sentence without sounding like an idiot or a creep.

(Y/n) just smiled and nodded “sure I would love too… tomorrow same time?” She asked.

“Ja… that would be good.” He nodded vigorously.

“Ok König I will see you tomorrow.” The girl blushed and walked back over to her table to finish reading her book with the paper in her hand. König practically collapsed back into his chair, he could hear his heart beating in his rib cage harder than it had ever beated before.

He got up after a little bit of calming himself down, to leave. He waved shyly back at (y/n) and she returned the wave smiling back at him making the tall man blush even more, as he made his way to the door. Once he got back into his car, he stared blankly at the roof trying to collect some thought that was flowing through his head that came up empty. Did he really just find a girl and was able to win her over with just a silly piece of art? Surely he couldn’t be that talented in doing that the only time he ever seen that happen was through films. He prayed to whatever was listening to him, that this would be the one for him, the one person who he had been searching for.