#multiplesteps

[labofakto]

Quick chillin' sk8r As I kinda liked all the steps, I did not chose one in particular and decided to put them all in one go. #labofakto #gate #dagate #clipstudiopaint #colerasemood #multiplesteps #doodleart #skate #skateboard #sk8 #vintagemood https://www.instagram.com/p/CSOvUkqDLXB/?utm_medium=tumblr

[mayonnaiseandbread]

#CaptainClicker #thumbnails / #HowIDo / #captainamerica #clicker #mashup / #12x16 #canvas #wip / #artsauce / #multiplesteps #process #artistlife

[legends-of-direbear]

Crash Into Me || Brobastian: AU TTL

Tagging: @smythethebadass​ @multiplestep-weston

Date: Post- “a thing”, Pre- “I love you”

Setting: Brody’s House, Lima, Ohio

Summary:  It’s starts with Brody crashing and injuring his leg.  And then snowballs into a lot of other crashes.

Brody actually has quite a few loves in his life.  Dancing, obviously.  Teaching, surprisingly.  His family (even if the feeling isn’t mutual); his horse; his mattress-- the guy who inspired the investment of said mattress (not that he’s ever even considered mentioning that out loud).  And his truck.

It’s not new-- he’s had it as long as he’s lived in Lima.  Which, he points out to Bas whenever they have this discussion, is actually the point.   Trixie represented a fresh start in a new place, and the fact that he’s kept her so long, that he’s been here so long, has become a point of pride.  Plus, there are a lot of good memories that came from that truck.

Which is why he really doesn’t want Sebastian Smythe driving it.  

God knows he wishes he could just drive himself to the hospital.  It’s not like he doesn’t know he needs stitches-- the rip in his leg looks nasty, even with his jeans somewhat covering it, and it’s bleeding quite a bit.  He’s managed to stay calm for the most part, because Bas doesn’t really handle emergencies that well, but as he slowly wraps a towel in ice and tries to numb the blinding pain, he’s not sure he can really think of a good alternative besides calling an ambulance, which is //definitely// not necessary.

“Just give me another minute and I can drive down there myself--”

“So you can black out on the road and mangle up the rest of your body?  I don’t think so.”

Brody grunts, pressing down harder on the wound and trying to focus.  “Do you even know how to drive a stick?” he argues.  Sebastian doesn’t even dignify the query with a response, and Brody realizes that considering his boyfriend grew up as a walking spoiled rich kid cliche, yeah-- most of his luxury sports cars would have been manual transmission.  Damnit.  “Yeah, but you realize a truck isn’t the same as a BMW, right?”

Sebastian’s expression has shifted, emerald gaze fixed on Brody’s leg, and the older man chances a peek downward.  The towel is saturated and stained dark by this point, and yeah, they need to leave soon.  

Bas effectively shuts down the discussion at that point, and Brody really doesn’t have it in him to argue anymore, as much as he hates the plan.  It’s taking too long for the blackness to clear every time he blinks, and he’s panting slightly.  Instead he just leans up against his boyfriend’s shoulder and hobbles carefully to the passenger side of his truck, biting his lip to the point that it starts bleeding too, rather than draw any more attention to the agony shooting up and down his body as he moves.

Apparently Sebastian is more worried than he let on, or insane, because the truck slams into gear and they’re flying down the road before Brody has time to do more than buckle his seat belt.  He’s honestly not sure by this point if he feels nauseous because of the blood loss or because his baby is at the mercy of his boyfriend.

Despite his maniac technique, Brody’s got to hand it to Bas-- they all make it to the hospital just fine, his truck included.  He lets out a small sigh of relief, which turns into a hiss as his leg sharply reminds him why they’re here in the first place.  

But they get in, and after a few hours, Brody’s cleaned up and released.  Of course, now he’s high on painkillers, so he’s definitely not fit to drive his truck; but at least he’s far from caring who is.  He just leans back, his fingers trailing languidly along Bas’ arm as he pulls out of the lot and heads for home, the whole time listening to the younger man prattle on about how easy this damn thing is-- he learned how to drive on a stick in the first place, for fuck’s sake, and the roads of this town are a cake walk.  Bas shakes his head and scoffs about how he can’t believe Brody had so little faith in him.

Well, you know, until he takes the corner of the drive too sharply and slams right into the mailbox, splintering the top into pieces and creating a crater on the left side of the truck as the pole digs hard into the frame.

Luckily, Brody is completely gone from the drugs by this time, so Bas just carefully reverses and reparks, guiding the barely conscious man inside the house and into bed.

The next morning, Brody wakes up with the sun-- maybe a little earlier-- and despite the nag in his leg and the haze in his brain, he knows he needs to get up and get his chores done.  Delilah isn’t going to feed and brush herself, after all.  He feels groggy as hell, honestly, and the jagged sutures in his leg remind him of the events of the previous evening, but hell, he’s already up-- he can get this much done and then just come back to bed, he’s sure.  He carefully pulls on a pair of loose-fitting sweats and walks gingerly to the counter, picking up his keys and boots and making his way outside.

“What the fuck?!”  His sweet baby-- his Trixie... Brody’s at a complete loss when he sees her, and he’s pretty sure he woke up some of their neighbors with his expletive.  

Pain temporarily forgotten, he strides back into the house, throwing his shoes aside and making his way back to the master bedroom, throwing the door open with a slam.

Bas is still dead asleep-- guy hasn’t even shifted at the noise.  Well, Brody can change that.

He grabs the blankets, ripping the warmth off of the other and tossing them aside before reaching down and shoving the younger man’s shoulder forcefully enough to almost roll him off the bed.

“What the fuck did you do to my truck?”

“I-- your--ngh.  Stupid truck’s fault…” Sebastian is barely semi-conscious, trying to reconcile his sleeping brain with his awake one in the face of a very worked-up Brody (and not the way Brody knows he prefers him worked up).  Brody can’t believe Bas is legitimately trying to blame the truck-- well, he can, but still-- and he huffs incredulously as he watches the other groan as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

His huffing turns into a bit of a pant-- wow, he didn’t realize how pissed off he was.  He's trying to get some more air, but Brody feels completely spent as the initial adrenaline burst wears off, leaning on the nightstand for support when he his heart starts pounding hard, the pulsing throbbing against his leg.

Which is when Bas finally seems coherent enough to realize that Brody is dressed and in front of him, asking about his truck.  “Why are you even out of bed, you moron?” comes the incredulous question.

Brody arches an eyebrow back at him.  “I’m going to take care of Dee?” he reminds the other, albeit a little breathlessly.  He really wants to sit down, honestly, but that would kind of ruin the effect he’s going for at the moment.

“The fuck you are,” Bas slides over to the side of the mattress where Brody is leaning, carefully slipping his hand over the other’s arm to guide him back down.  “If you’re going to yell at me, fine, but fucking lie down to do it.  You just came back from the hospital with 17 stitches in your leg.  Idiot.”

By now Brody’s righteousness has pretty much lost out to his exhaustion from the sheer effort of standing so long, and his leg is throbbing-- Bas tries to help, but the older man basically collapses face first back into the bed once he’s given up the fight.  

“You broke my truck, you asshat,” comes an angry grumble from the pillow.  Followed by a quiet groan.  “And my leg hurts-- did we pick up something?”  He hasn’t taken anything for the pain yet, and what they’ve given him at the hospital has long since worn off, so at this point it’s up to Sebastian to play caretaker, shuffling out of bed for a caffeine fix so he can hunt down Brody’s prescription they got last night

As soon as he’s back in bed though, and Brody quickly swallows the heavy duty meds, strong arms wrap around the lankier torso and the Ag teacher buries his face into Bas’ neck.  “If I can’t leave, you can’t leave,” he argues, aware that this is hardly a punishment to the pompous peacock next to him.  But, to be honest, he’s recognized he can’t stay angry at Bas too long anyways anymore, so what’s the point?

He does whine a little when Bas manages to squirm free-- some sort of excuse about lunch (when did breakfast happen?) and “get some sleep”.

Brody tries to argue he’s not sleepy, but when he shifts up to make the retort, the other is shrugging off the clothes that Brody doesn’t remember him wearing, grabbing a styrofoam container of what Brody instantly recognizes as soup and another box of Chinese that he brings to bed.  Sebastian sets the takeout on the nightstand as he crawls back under the covers and just rolls his eyes at the older man’s bemused look.

Brody awkwardly fumbles until he’s positioned himself in a sit, body leaning against the headrest and wrinkling his nose at the container.  “Why do people always serve soup when you’re injured?” he asks petulantly.  “Injured isn’t sick.  I freaking hate soup.”  He groans and sways slightly, stretching his stiff limbs.  It feels like he hasn’t moved in years, and his mouth is feeling the strain suddenly more than any other part of him.

“God, I haven’t even showered today,” he remarks after another moment of reflection, glancing over at Bas and leaning against his shoulder.  “We didn’t get to take a shower.”  Brody recognizes that he has a weird obsession with shower sex by now, but it’s still his favorite part of the morning, and it’s a disappointing thought that he’s missed out on fucking his boyfriend up against the glass.

He curls up against the other man, still pointedly ignoring his “lunch” in favor of suddenly letting his drug-addled brain follow this new train of thought.

“I feel like there’s rules against that-- not showering after an injury.  ‘s not sanitary.  Isn’t that how people get gangrene and lose limbs?”  He glances up at Bas.  “If I lose my leg, I want that machine gun prosthetic like Rose McGowan got in that one movie.”  No nevermind that Brody is an awful shot and isn’t that fond of guns in the first place-- that would be cool and he wants one.

He wriggles again, suddenly deep in his contemplation as he lays against the lean form of his boyfriend.  “Hey, do you think it’s easier to bottom if you’re missing a leg?” he ponders, hands shifting in front of him as if trying to conceive the idea spatially.  “I mean, I don’t usually, you know, but it’s an interesting question to consider.  I feel like that could potentially leave a lot of flexibility in position, you know?  Or would it hinder it because you’d have less to grip onto?”

He can’t see Sebastian smirking in amusement as he watches him ramble, but he hears it in his scoff.  “You’re not going to lose your leg, you moron; so it’s not really something you need to think about.”

But now Brody is thinking about it, and his eyes widen in realization.  “We never switch-- you said you’re a switch, but we never do.  Because I’m always on top-- did you want the top?  Am I depriving you?”

He twists his body around so that he’s facing Bas, completely unaware of the amusement playing all over Sebastian’s face at the external monologuing happening in front of him.  Brody’s genuinely worried that after all of this time, he’s been a complete selfish ass of a boyfriend.  But as Bas opens his mouth to arguably reassure him, he continues, “And if you’re deprived, do you know you’re deprived?  I mean, maybe I’ve just brainwashed you into not wanting top, and you don’t even know it.”

Now Brody’s off and running again, and he curls back up against Bas’ chest so the other has to put aside his food and wrap his arms around the babbling idiot.

“Can you brainwash someone without them knowing it?  I mean, I guess they wouldn’t know it afterwards so it’s all relative if they knew.  Oh my god, what if they really did take my leg, and just brainwashed me into believing it was still there?”  

“Oh my god, Brody.  I’m not brainwashed, and neither are you.”

Ignoring this, his arms tighten around Bas’ at the thought.  “Would you still have sex with me if I only had one leg?”  Brody was pretty sure he still had enough game to be able to have a healthy sex life in general, but he loves Bas-- he just wants to have sex with him.  He shakes his head as his eyes took in the messy room around them.  “God, I’m going to have to invest in, like, handholds all around the house.”

His head lulls to the side as his eyes shift toward the ceiling reflectively.  “I wonder how much those grips for the showers are.”  Brody’s blue eyes are suddenly serious as he turns back to Sebastian’s gaze.  “I’m not giving up shower sex, Bas-- it’s not happening.”  He’s deadly serious, and only a small part of his brain registers that the younger man doesn’t really seem to be taking him seriously, but he’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t dwell on it, instead flopping back onto his back and huffing unhappily.  “God, we didn’t even have shower sex today.  What a fucking waste of a day.”

Sebastian isn’t really talking throughout the ordeal, instead just keeping one arm loosely wrapped around Brody’s chest, while his other hand slowly cards through the man’s hair.  It’s arguably soothing, although it doesn’t quiet the older man’s mind for long.  But it’s nice, and reassuring, and Brody just likes the feeling of Bas in general, so as his thoughts crash to the forefront of his mind and his mouth lacks the filter to not voice every one as it comes, they just stay there in bed; and he just lets himself feel surrounded and safe as Sebastian just protects him from his own thoughts until he manages to fade back to sleep, and spend the weekend recovering. 

[legends-of-direbear]

Home || Brobastian: AU TTL

Tagging: @smythethebadass​ @multiplestep-weston

Date: Post- “a thing”

Setting: Paris, France

Summary:  Between just crashing and them becoming a thing...well, they just kind of skipped over this part.  And really, it is their place, so Brody just wanted to...make it official, he guesses.  So he had a new key made-- he just wasn't sure really how to do it without sounding like an idiot.  So he's been carrying it around for a few weeks now.  Which is causing his face to flush a little, because it sounds even more stupid out loud.

Sebastian and Brody go to Paris to visit his grandparents (and his parents, much to his displeasure), and, well, things go about as well as you can expect. Brody's uncomfortable, but he makes the effort for Bas' sake, but god, he cannot seem to find anything to touch on that helps-- I mean, he feels like horses are pretty upper class (or at least he was raised to believe it-- rich people always invest in horses, after all, and they’re damned expensive for upkeep); he's been raised around wine culture his whole life; he went to New York and auditioned to be a member in the American Ballet Company, for pete's sake.  He really didn't think it'd be so hard to find something to strike a good impression with, but damn if Bas' parents aren't determined to be indifferent, if not outright hostile, towards him.  He catches on by Bas' mood that this isn't specific to the other teacher though, and so he figures he can handle being hated if he can somehow salvage the "vacation” for the other man’s sake.

But during a charity event, Bas finally just snaps.  He doesn't make a scene, but it's obvious he's not taking this shit anymore, and Brody quickly moves to pull him somewhere quiet to keep things from escalating.  Or course, maybe a closet wasn't the best idea, because Bas' next thought is revenge by sex, which Brody really doesn’t think will do anything to help the get the Smythes to warm up to him.

They talk, and it breaks Brody's heart to realize that Bas really is as cliche as he's implied; that while he's really willing to piss his parents off at any cost, he’s really just acting out to get their attention, because all he really wants is for them to just give a damn-- to want him.  And Brody can't make that happen-- he can't fix his boyfriend's family, because as much as he's screwed up with his own, they wanted him from the start, never really stopped loving him, so it's not the same.

So instead the older man reaches into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulls out a little black box.  Bas' eyes widen in shock, but Brody shakes his head in reassurance that he hasn’t completely gone off the deep end and tells him to just open the damned thing.

Inside is a key, which is confusing.  It’s obvious that Bas really has no idea where the key goes, or what it could possibly mean, honestly.  Which makes sense, because Brody feels pretty stupid right now giving it to him.  He actually scuffs his brand new shoes as he toes the ground like one of his teenagers, chewing his lip awkwardly.  Because, he knows Bas already has a key to his place-- they've lived together for a while now.  But, between just “crashing” temporarily out of financial necessity and them becoming a thing...well, they just kind of skipped over this part.  And really, it is their place, so Brody just wanted to...make it official, he guesses.  So he had a new key made-- he just wasn't sure really how to do it without sounding like an idiot.  So he's been carrying it around for a few weeks now.  Which is causing his face to flush a little, because it sounds even more stupid out loud.

But the whole point, he pushes himself to continue, is that he wants Bas as part of his life-- that the house is more home with him there.  So would he want to move the rest of his shit out of the guest room and into their’s so it can actually be a guest room again and they can actually stop pretending that it's anything else?

So yeah, now they're just in a closet and he's giving him a key he already has to a place he already lives and this is a whole lot less impressive than Brody'd intended.  So he's just waiting for Bas to mock him for it, really.  But at least he won't be mad anymore, right?  That was the whole point of this thing anyways-- to distract him.  Not because any of this mattered or anything.

The look on Bas’ face though-- and the kiss that followed-- definitely makes him feel a lot less stupid.  He doesn’t even really mind that they end up having sex in the closet.  It feels like home.