#no pressure sensitivity because I dropped my pen somewhere

[boobilby]

This was for a little prompt thing of drawing a character at the beach and because I’m normal I drew booster and ted

Also no layer modes because I’m trying to be better at colours

[ghostaholics]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader; 18+ only ➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune ➸ OTHER GHOST NSFW HEADCANONS: here & here

➸ BLINDFOLDING: obligatory, a deal-breaker especially early on in the relationship; lots of things he has planned for you that involves his mouth, and while he could pull up his mask as far as he needs to, just have the hem of it resting on the bridge of his nose, sometimes he prefers to do away with it all so as not to become an obstacle that's impeding on his fun – hence, a blindfold (maybe a spare military scarf that he's got lying around or any other scrap of fabric that'll suffice) to block out the visual of his face – the temporary deprivation of sight has your other senses heightened, with tactile being the most obvious as you become extremely responsive to his touch when you’re not sure what to anticipate next (❝ Should tie you up too, tease you 'til you can’t stand it anymore. How’s that sound, sweetheart? ❞)

➸ RECEIVING HEAD: likes it almost as much as giving; will never turn it down when the opportunity presents itself

(1) deepthroating - you need the practice since you couldn't get it all the first time he fed you his cock, couldn't quite accommodate the girth of him no matter how hard you tried that night; so, you've been working up to it, finally able to get your mouth full, throat fucked, just your wet heat encasing him and he can't help but apply light pressure, palming the back of your head to push you down on his dick and letting out a guttural groan whenever you occasionally gag while taking him down to the base (❝ Breathe through your nose, love. Choking on my cock like this... fuckin' hell. Don't go hurtin' yourself now.❞)

(2) when he's sitting with his legs spread wide, you kneeling in between them and looking up at him through your lashes - doesn't rush you, tells you to slow down in fact, so he can enjoy the sight of your lips wrapped around his dick for longer, how you're so enthusiastic about making him feel good - about cock-worshipping - practically drunk alone on the pleasure of sucking him off as if this might be more for your benefit than it is for his; you start working him with your mouth - gently licking at the seam of the sensitive head and lapping up the prespend there because you're a good girl for cleaning up the clear and sticky mess gathering around his slit before pressing a kiss to the blunt tip, or when your tongue runs wet along the length of him before trying to swallow him down your throat (❝ So good to me... love this almost more than that pretty pussy of yours. C'mere, sweetheart. Gonna return the favor and spoil that li’l cunt with my mouth. ❞)

➸ PARTIALLY-CLOTHED SEX: can be impatient when he’s in a rush, certainly has little to no tolerance for undressing you or himself for a shag somewhere inconvenient (it’s called a quickie for a reason but he’s only interested when there’s a high probability that you’re already wet before he’s even laid a finger on you, e.g. eye-fucking him across the room for the last hour while lightly chewing on the tip of your pen and dragging it across your bottom lip before pausing at the corner of your mouth, or verbal foreplay throughout the day where you’ve been dropping dirty comments about how you much you’ve been thinking about him just slowly rubbing at the entrance of your cunt, having him fill you up with his fingers or his cock); honestly doesn’t want to waste time sliding into you after all of that – the most he’ll otherwise do is ruck your shirt over your chest to paw at your tits, knead at the flesh and pinch/roll your nipples between his fingers while pounding into you from behind (❝ Move these panties to the side before I rip ‘em off you. Really don’t think you should’ve been bloody wearin’ any in the first place. ❞)

➸ SQUIRTING: riding him, leaning back slightly with one of your hands grasping at his muscular thigh to stay upright – and the view drives him crazy, how you’re bouncing, fucking yourself down on him over and over, along with these desperate little rolls of your hips; you’re doing so good for him that he makes the executive decision to assume control now, thrusts up into your aching hole, bruising – almost punishing, but he can’t stop when he’s got you moaning even louder now and gasps spill from your mouth when you take him to the root – cockhead brushing against the front of your cunt at this angle every time he drives inside you (❝ Right there, huh? That the spot? Fuckin' know from how goddamn wet you're gettin' me— ❞) and he keeps going until you start coming hard then, soaking his cock so bad that the fresh rush of slick pools across his thighs, leaks down his balls (❝ Christ, got you gushin’ all over me. Let's see it again, c’mon. ❞)

➸ DEGRADATION KINK: light on the insults, doesn’t necessarily mean it in a literal sense but knows that they have their time and place during sex; he equates them to something affectionate – prefers to use the ones that possess a more positive connotation in lieu of/alongside praise based on the situation and really enjoys how your cunt involuntarily clenches upon hearing that sort of stuff

❝ Yeah, can feel this cunt pulsin’ around my cock. Such a cute li’l fucktoy – jus’ can’t help it, can you? Need you to stay still for me, though. ❞ (e.g. cock warming)

❝ Taking me so well… being so good, aren't you? Careful love, don’t want ‘em hearing how loud you are; they might get the wrong idea about you, moanin’ like a whore and all that. ❞

❝ Where’s my dirty girl want me to finish? Inside, is that it? Fuckin’ Christ you’re a naughty one, sweetheart, lettin’ me fill up this cunt. Greedy for it, like a bitch in heat— ❞

❝ I know you’re more than a cumslut, love. But you beg me to fuck you stupid, damn near let me abuse every single one of these holes of yours, and—c'mon, you see why I might have a hard time believin’ myself, right?”

➸ HAIR-PULLING: if he finds out you're into it, then he’s very much in favor of grabbing a handful of your hair, fingers spanning over your scalp and slightly tugging so that he tips your chin up – not enough to hurt; usually only does it when he’s trying to get you to look at something (bent over the sink, and you need to look at your reflection, don’t want to miss that, of course) or he just wants something to grab onto (when you’re on your knees while he’s face-fucking you, gotta make sure you maintain eye contact); accidentally discovers you share this kink when his intention is to give you a low warning for teasing him, bringing your ear close so you can hear him properly without him having to raise his voice but you just end up letting out a soft moan in response

(1) if your hair's long enough - he likes wrapping a ponytail around his hand, and will appreciate a nice plait, but he's not choosy

[finniestoncrane]

Sooo... I've had this request lingering in the back of my mind for a while now and I finally gathered the courage to write it down, I hope you like it!

Female reader struggling to pay off for her appartment. She manages to peak Oswald's interest and plans on spending the night with him in exchange of some money (if you catch my drift 👀) She is very nervous because it's her first time doing something like that but Oswald, being the perfect man he is, guides her all along. Once they are done she asks if it would be okay for her to stay for a little bit completely free of charge since she doesn't have the courage to ask for aftercare and ends up confessing that she genuenly enjoyed herself?

I understand if this is a sensitive topic of shorts, so please don't feel pressured to write about it if it's not something you are comfortable with!

If you are okay with it, then thank you and take your time! ♥️♥️♥️

Decent Proposal

Farrell!Penguin x Female!Reader, word count: 2k omg omg hey you didn't need courage this is PERFECT! and my sweet this isn't too sensitive for me, we all earn our spending pennies however we want! and i love the idea of oswald trying to offer something in return for being with him, it makes him so vulnerable and sad and sweet so HERE is some old man lovin' for you 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: sex work? technically i guess, exchanging money for sex anyway, stripping, sex, fluff sort of at the end

As you ascended the stairs to Oswald’s office, your heart beat fast in your chest. Nerves, excitement, fear and, being completely honest, arousal, all fluttered around in your mind and your chest as you knocked on the door and entered at his welcome.

He looked up, unsure of who was there, but stood quickly from his desk when he realised it was you, arms out in a welcoming gesture, genuine surprise and pleasure on his face.

Oswald Cobblepot was incredibly charming, and reasonably handsome by your accounts, He was still dangerous though, a little bit terrifying. It was his presence, his reputation that put you off of his advances. And those advances were frequent and plentiful. Flattering as they were though, you found yourself rejecting him each time, playing off the flirtation as friendly jokes. You had no intention of being further entwined with Gotham’s seedy underbelly than you already were.

But as rent payments loomed and you found yourself desperate with nowhere to turn, you realised you might need to take a hit.

Keep reading

“Sweetheart! It’s so good to see you up here, what can Ozzy do for you?”

“You said… you’d make it worth my time, yeah?”

It took a few moments for him to realise what you were saying, by which point a wide smile spread across his face, his body becoming far less tense, less formal, as he approached you.

“Oh, of course, kid. Anything you want.”

“Rent. I need rent.”

“You got it, easy, no problems.”

He walked back to his desk, picking up a pen and his cheque book before taking another look at you and sliding them into his pockets. Your heart dropped as he approached you once again.

“Listen, toots, you look like you could use a drink, maybe a meal. Ya hungry?”

You were, and you nodded before you could really consider the implications behind his question.

“It’s a date then. I’ll be done here in a few minutes.”

He reached into his pockets and produced a wad of cash, licking his thumb first before flicking through the notes and passing you more money than was really necessary for his offer.

“Go downstairs, get a drink and stay pretty. I’ll take you somewhere good before we get down to business.”

You offered him a week smile, leaving the office and sitting yourself at the bar, waiting patiently, sipping nervously, until you felt strong, large hands on your shoulders.

“You good to go?”

Swallowing your drink almost in its entirety, you nodded, taking the arm that Oswald offered as you left his club with him.

He sat beside you in the back of his car, you and him and the driver all silent. Oswald’s hand on your knee, fingers smoothing over you, it made you nervous, but excited. It felt nice to have him there, safe with his large body beside you. But it was foreboding nonetheless, and you couldn’t find the will to lean into him, though you wanted to.

Oswald wasn’t put off by your standoffish behaviour in the slightest. As far as he was aware, this was just how you were. Cold, aloof, distant. And for him, this was a transactional arrangement. You were just doing business, he was buttering you up, schmoozing you before your big meeting.

It was easy to warm up to him though, and you found you were letting your guard down as the evening progressed. It might have been the couple of drinks that eased you up, but it was more likely the way he looked at you, the way he ordered for you and knew what you wanted without asking, how his hand felt against your waist, on your thigh, the way he insisted on feeding you a bite of his dish to taste, asking about your day.

He was the perfect gentleman. Someone you would be more than happy to date if it weren’t for the resounding feeling that you were way out of your league, and in considerable danger just being close to him, despite the security you felt with his arm around you, even as you walked the dark, cold streets to where his driver had parked.

But still, your nerves pressed you.

Silence in the elevator on the way to the penthouse. Silence as you walked behind him through his lounge, to where he told you to take a seat on his sofa.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks, Mr Cobblepot.”

“Sweetheart, I keep tellin’ ya! Oswald, or better yet, Ozzie!”

You smiled at the tone in his voice, oddly commanding but so gentle, friendly. He made it easy to do what he wanted you to do, almost as though you wanted it yourself. Which you were sure you did.

He sat down next to you, drink in his hand, sipping it as you both sat awkwardly. It was easier to slip into conversation over dinner, but when you were both alone, it was far more difficult to know what to say.

“You know, you don’t gotta do anything else if you don’t wanna, right?”

You nodded, silently, but you felt it would be cruel to leave him now.

“I had a good time at dinner sweetheart, I can cut you a cheque write now, you can see me again for more or not.”

“I want to, Oswald.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, trying to stifle the boyishly excited grin that was trying to form at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Would you believe I ain’t neither?”

You smiled, because as much as you knew of his reputation, to be surrounded by arm candy, you could see him being exactly the kind of man to spend most of his time alone, everything for show, for his image.

“I could.”

“I think…”

He sighed, leaning back in the sofa, and you instinctively followed, falling into the crook of his arm which was spread out over the back, your palm resting on his chest, his eyes staring at the physical gesture, smiling sweetly.

“…I think it’s easy to forget I’m just a guy, kid. I’m not evil. I’m bad. There’s a difference. It’s grey, y’know? Would be nice for things to be normal.”

“This is normal?”

“What’s normal anyhow? Could be normal? Could be weird. Whatever it is though, you can leave without finding out. You stay though, I’ll make it real easy for you, promise.”

The sincerity in his words, the way he spoke, and the way his eyes never left yours, his own fingers stroking the back of your hand that sat on his chest. You believed him completely. And you leaned in further, twisting your body until you were almost facing him, kissing him, your hands on either side of his face, palms stroking at the deep scars that lay along his cheeks.

Both of his hands fell to your hips, holding you steady in the awkward position you sat in now, pushing you back gently to look at you.

“You sure, kid?”

“Definitely. You’ll… be nice right?”

He laughed a little, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, soft, sweet kisses trailing up your arm until his cheek was pressed to yours. He whispered in your ear.

“The nicest.”

He stood up, taking your hand and pulling you from the sofa, guiding you back into his bedroom, the extravagant décor only lightly visible in the dim light he put on.

“I don’t want nothin’ fancy or… weird. Just… y’know?”

You nodded quietly, trying to hide your smile. What would Oswald Cobblepot have considered weird? What did he think was fancy? When you looked back at him, he had loosened his pants, letting them fall to the floor, standing in his boxers as he struggled with his tie.

“Let me help.”

You moved to him, taking his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. His body was thick with dark, ever so slightly greying hair that covered almost all of his skin, trailing off towards the bottom of his stomach and continuing over his legs and arms, you realised, as you removed his shirt. Arms and legs darker than his chest, same with the tuft that poked out from the band of his underwear. He stood there, in only his underwear and obnoxious jewellery, blushing.

“You good? I mean… this ok?”

He gestured vaguely to his body and you giggled, blushing at his modesty, the way he no longer seemed as scary as he stood in front of you, vulnerable.

Letting yourself fall into him again, you placed your lips on his, letting his hands fall around you before he stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Could you maybe take your clothes off for me, right there?”

You smiled, licking your lips as you started undressing, easing your pants down first, leaving you in a shirt and your underwear.

“Aw, good girl. Exactly like that, sweetheart.”

He watched you, quietly, face unchanging as you removed the rest of your clothes, slowly, tantalisingly, until you were fully exposed in front of him. He motioned to you with his hand, pulling you closer to him with no words until you were near enough to take hold of, pulled down onto him on the bed.

“You ok if you take control, toots?”

“You’re the one paying, Ozzie.”

You smiled and winked at him, and he tossed his head back, chuckling, wide smile on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the right way to get this over quickly!”

You climbed on top of him, quickly adjusting yourself, already wet at the thought of having his hands on you, grabbing you, holding you, how his body would feel against yours writhing under you, weak, under your control. As you positioned the head of his short, thick cock against your entrance, you moaned, groaning louder as you took him in completely, your hands firmly on his chest as he grunted, bucking his hips up a little as you rode him. Sharp breaths and moans in chorus as you both reacted to the feeling of one another, your hands on his stomach, his chest, his thighs and his around your cheeks, your hips, lifting you and lowering you at the pace he preferred.

Oswald whispered sweet compliments under his breath, not that you imagined he didn’t want you to hear him, more that he felt he needed to be chaste, not embarrass you with his praise or gentle words, how beautiful you were, what a good girl you were being, how much he had wanted this and for so long that he would have been willing to do anything for you to just pretend to be his for a moment.

So sweet were his words that you found yourself climaxing, your hand stroking your cunt as you rode him hard, his fingers teasing at your nipples, softly grazing over your skin as he explored your body, making the most of his time with you.

He sounded almost poetic as he came, praising you, holding you down, filling you with his cum, keeping you steady on him as you came yourself, and bringing you down on to the bed next to him, where he held you as you panted heavily, soft giggles emanating from your wet, parted lips.

“Sorry, kid.”

He shuffled away, letting go of you.

“Don’t wanna hold you here against your will, huh?”

He was smiling, but there was an emptiness behind it.

“Actually, Oswald… Ozzie… Do you mind if I… stay for a while?”

“S-sure, sure! Uh… you need more money or-”

“No! No, nothing… not like that. I just…”

“You ok, toots?”

“I’m fine, good. Great, even. I…”

As you turned to face him, he was already staring intently at you, a concerned look on his furrowed brow.

“I liked that, Ozzie. A lot.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I’d like to stay. Just… for a little while?”

He brought his arm back around you, pulling you closer. As you let your head fall onto his body, you sighed, safely, securely in his arms. Oswald leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You can stay as long as you like.”

[husbandits]

Merry Christmas!

This is my secret santa gift for @unlikelynick, I hope you like it! this year I went with a minific abt charles and arthur’s relationship. it’s a little smuttier than my usual fare in the first half

  @rdr-secret-santa

It’s a sweltering day in late July, and the air is so humid that Arthur’s shirt feels glued to his shoulders. He feels practically worn out by midday but does his best to manage with the weather, a shorter than usual list of chores to keep him busy, the promise of a little attention when the sun goes down, and only the barest amount of layers necessary to look presentable. Right now he has a big bag of feed for the horses thrown over his shoulder, and not much but simple manual labor in mind. There’s a twinge of complaint to the bulky weight somewhere in between his shoulder blades, though it’s not yet enough to actually hurt, so he ignores it. Pushes the ache aside for later, when he’s not as busy, and focuses on the heat settling on his cheeks, from the exertion as much as the persistent thought of the reward waiting for him later. On getting this chore done, and then finding the supplies Miss Grimshaw’d asked him for earlier that morning. 

He does his best to shake off the carnal haze, hauling the heavy canvas bag across camp without much trouble. Offers Charles a wave of a greeting as he carefully clambers into the loosely gated off pen where the horses are being kept, though he doesn’t realize that, focused on repairing some worn bit of equipment as he is, Charles doesn’t see the gesture, and instead Arthur allows himself an eyeful of the man’s behind, the vague form filling out his grass-stained trousers, doing his mounting ardor no favors. He gives a masked groan, as he lets the feedbag drop to the ground, less discreetly than he’d like.

“Alright there?” Charles jolts at the sound, and glances up, briefly from his worktable, brows knit in worry. The hot sun casts a golden highlight across the line of his jaw, and Arthur takes a moment to just take in the sight.

He catches himself after a moment, and gives the man a shrug. “Yeah, yeah, s’fine. Just a little beat I guess.”

Charles nods at that, responds with a dull “I see”. Arthur lingers a moment, wanting to say something, clarify himself, but ends up with nothing. Just hangs there, lost in the moment. The heat sitting low in his gut, the way Charles’ presence makes the chaos constantly buzzing in his head grow still, and the want that’s been driving him half-mad all day.

Against his better judgement, against (or perhaps because of) the threat of [kissing] in the light of day, Arthur scans the sparse campsite briefly, and then his tenacity comes back in the form of a question, voice low in his chest. “Y’gotta minute t’spare? I, uh, I think this heat’s gettin’ t’me a bit...”

The offer is soft, hushed and almost hidden when he ducks his head, as if embarrassed, but it draws a warm chuckle from Charles all the same. It’s been nearly three months now, and Arthur is still finding himself taken by surprise by how earnestly affectionate Charles is, brazen almost, despite the risk. The man responds by reaching out, moving to ghost one hand around Arthur’s side in a feigned attempt to reach past him, for the leather-working tool hanging behind, palm warm against the thinned fabric of his worn-out work shirt. He gives just a moment of pause, eyeing the other side of the camp as well, before he moves closer. Murmurs, soft lips tantalizingly close to Arthur’s cheek. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes, if you need my help...”

The decommissioned wagon makes for good enough cover, as the pair duck behind it, shielded by the dense canvas, the wooden frame resting on the ground. Arthur gives to the heat building in his gut almost immediately, pushing closer still, following Charles down to the ground as they meet, arching into the hand that comes to rest at the back of his neck, absently. The kiss is soft, tender, and Arthur pulls away quickly, only for Charles to pull him right back. Chuckles again, holding the man’s sharp jaw with one firm, gentle hand. Guides Arthur down, sinking to his knees as Charles bows back, drawing him to follow.

They part again after a long moment, Arthur straddling Charles’ broad lap, large hands shaky with restless energy. In the back of his head, there’s the vague notion that this is getting to be too much, too open, but it's overridden by the languid, hungry way Charles leans into his touch. The rough feeling of the hands brushing against the sensitive buds of his nipples, the weight of the man’s brawny chest under his fingers. His shirt is being slid out of his waistband, buttons gently tugged out of their holes one by one before he can protest, and Arthur just sucks in a soft breath in response, catching Charles' lips once more. Delights himself in mapping the layout of his mouth, sucking the man’s lip between his teeth and toying with it.

Eventually he pulls away again, long enough to allow the both of them to catch their breath, and Arthur manages to find the presence of mind to mumble, “Need yer t-touch here,” before succumbing to the pull of his boyfriend’s allure again. Hums, sliding his hands up Charles’ coarse linen work shirt, while the man’s attention drifts lower, sliding his hands down the frayed waistband of his jeans, and practically squeezing his admittedly thick-set hips.

One of the horses, Old Belle, gives a curious snort as he shudders in response, but Arthur pays the interloper no mind, shooing off the mare with an absent toss of his hand. Feels as much as he hears Charles’ coarse laugh, lips pressed to his collarbone as his collar is pulled away entirely. Turns back to his boyfriend, meeting the man’s amusement with a reverent kiss to his temple. Falls back into his lips before he can give more than a moment of sentimentality.

This time they’re quicker, hungrier. Languor gives way to greed, and Arthur’s hand finds its way up to cup the sharp side of Charles’ jaw. Feels the attention drifting down to his [ass], and hisses against clenched teeth. Despite the cloying heat, the constant threat of being caught, he spreads his legs a little further. Lets Charles fumble with his belt, half-convinced that they’ll stop themselves before it gets too far.

The two of them have only done things proper a few times before, hidden away in one of the dilapidated cabins in the mountains, where no one could hope to stumble onto them, but right now, worked up as he is, all of the sense he’s managed to cling to over the course of his life is lost.

Once his pants are undone, belt hanging open depravedly to allow his throbbing length room, pressing against Charles’ still-constrained member ever so slightly. He sucks in an uneasy breath, shifting his hips to allow the hand toying at his behind better access, though the restrained man doesn’t move beyond squeezing him in loose handfuls. Mercifully, Charles at least seems to keep his head, and doesn’t go any further. Just allows himself a low sigh of want, and gently guides him back down, dick pushed where it can grind at his own rising member, moving one hand to pull open his trousers.

He gives Arthur a second or so of warning before he moves again, smoothing his slightly clammy palm over the head of his member. Arthur shudders in response, biting back a low groan behind clenched teeth, breath catching in his chest. He can feel the heat showing in his chest, the rosy blush Charles has told him, some months back, looks endearing on the tips of his ears; but he can’t do a thing about it. It’s been nearly a fortnight since he’s found the time to take care of himself, and now he’s all but lost to the satisfaction of it. Feels too good to care about modesty.

He knows he looks obscene, leaning back on his ankles, grinding himself forward helplessly against Charles. Feels worlds better, when he feels the man push back in return, chasing the pressure of Arthur’s member on his. Another beat, and Arthur throws out one hand, fingers splayed on the grain of the wood, grounding himself. Bites back another moan, less successfully this time.

Just as he gives in and puts one trembling hand on the pair of them, just as he feels himself start to bottom out, Arthur is hit with a throat being cleared, and the distinct sound of boots hitting one of the head-sized stones lying around the campground, exaggeratedly loud. Feels his heart nearly stop, and his blood freeze. Dares to look up, around the false protective cover of the canvas, after fumbling his pants back together with shaky hands, feeling Charles tug his own pants back together, presence warm at his side. Emerges, to find not only Dutch standing in the shade of the nearby elm tree, looking outright disappointed, arms folded over themselves, but Hosea standing beside him, expression pulled tight.

His thoughts grow still, breath almost coming to a stop. Every near-miss from his adolescence flashes in his head, the hushed reprimands about keeping himself hidden. The time they’d found him, kissing some boy in some town when he’d been somewhere in his early twenties, only to throw a fit and pack everything up in the middle of the night, skipping town. The-

“Arthur.” Dutch’s voice is sharp. Pulls him back to reality with it’s rigidity. “What, exactly, are the two of you getting up to back there?”

He gulps, feeling his hands tremble. Moves out from behind the wagon, unable to drag his eyes from the dirt floor, throat clenching up.

Before he can get more than a choked syllable out, Charles is responding. Has pulled his pants back together as if nothing had been happening, shirt falling back down into place, moving to his side with a light touch. “I don’t think that is any of your business, really.”

A pause at that, Dutch’s expression going from dismayed to incredulous. “It’s none of my business, what sort of, of perversion goes on in my camp?”

 He seethes, growing in volume and indignation, but Charles doesn’t seem fazed. brick-walls the man with his usual nonchalance, as if there’s nothing really of interest to him at all. “I don’t really see the fuss, honestly. You don’t get this upset whenever you catch John and Abigail, do you?”

Arthur jolts at that, and Dutch seems to bristle. Fumes, voice turning to a cracked pitch. “You don’t see the, the fuss with what, I assume, the two of you were getting up to? With defying the very word of god, in my, in this camp?”

He flinches at that. Charles moves a little closer, one hand moving to Arthur’s. Though the memory of that incident, the threat of being tossed out, though a little irrational at this point, is still sharp in his mind, Arthur finds himself calming, though his throat still feels like it’s full of sand.

“Not really.” Charles eventually counters, voice dull. “I mean, it’s not like we follow the ‘word of god’ much anyway.” He deadpans, seemingly unaffected by the fury that seems to radiate off of Dutch at that. “I’d always thought the bible condemned theft. Not to mention murder, but we don’t seem to have much of a problem about all that.”

Dutch gives a guff, wrinking his nose in disbelief. “No, I suppose we don’t, but this is-”

“This,” Charles interrupts, low voice growing just the slightest bit sharp, just a hint of intimidation to Dutch’s heaping browbeating. “Despite what it looks like, isn’t some quick fling. What we’re, what we’re building is a real relationship. It’s earnest, and it’s certainly not dangerous, not from anything but the law, which’ll hang any of us either way, and you.” Charles’ voice is a tense growl, and “And, for all your talk about ‘family’, I can’t imagine you’d really turn on Arthur, not for something as harmless as this.”

Arthur feels his jaw loosen at the words, at putting their relationship out in the open, and laying everything out so plainly. He opens his mouth to speak, but still, still can’t manage a sound, and reaches out again to catch Charles’ hand again, give it a squeeze. “And I don’t know what exactly you think constitutes a healthy relationship, but I know I, for one, am willing to put in the time and the effort to make this work; and we’re not hollering at each other and dragging other people into our problems, so I don’t see why it should be so upsetting for you.”

When Arthur looks up, Dutch’s face is bright red, and his shoulders are slack. He gapes, but before he can splutter more than a syllable or two, Hosea pipes up, drifting back into focus. Is thoughtful and calm in contrast to Dutch’s indignation, and has an almost remorseful expression. Puts a steadying hand on Dutch’s shoulder, as if to pacify him.

“Well, I… I can’t say thought it would be quite this, ah, explosive, but it’s good to see the two of you finally stop dancing around all this,” He muses, brushing past Dutch to clap a warm hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Although in any case I’d think the both of you might like to be a little less exposed than out here with the horses. Maybe save the, er, houghmagandy for somewhere private?”

Charles grunts at that. Gives a long, cautious look, and then seems to ease up. Softens his posture, the aggression he’d shown smoothing over like it hadn’t happened in the first place. Turns to Arthur, pulling his hand away with a last squeeze. “Alright then. I’ll see you later?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, pressing a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek before he pulls away. Strides off, heading back to the horses, after shooting Dutch another quick look. 

“Uhh,” Arthur finally, finally manages to find his voice. The wall of unease feels lessened, now that everything’s been tossed out in the open. Now that Hosea, at least, has acknowledged them, and seems to have given his blessing, even. “Yeah, alright.” He tugs at the open edges of his shirt, eyeing Dutch’s receding form for a scant moment. Jerks into motion, one hand coming to rub at the back of his head. “I gotta move some a’the supplies fer Miss Grimshaw, now that I think about it...”

He gets a grunt at that, but Dutch doesn’t speak again. Just huffs, heading off without comment. He doesn’t get more than a moment to ponder that however, Hosea throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him in the other direction. “Oh, you got talked into doing all that? Here, I think I know where the supplies she was looking for are, let me give you a hand, son...."

[rushingheadlong]

Together With You - A Brian May x f!Reader smut fic

Summary: You spend an intimate morning keeping Brian company as he works.

Wordcount: ~1,900

Tags/Warnings: 18+/NSFW, smut, cockwarming, creampie

Notes: Written for an anon prompt for late 70s Brian x f!Reader with cockwarming. This ended up a bit on the softer side, rather than the D/s route, but I hope it’s alright!

You find Brian right where you were expecting him to be - already hard at work at the small desk tucked into the corner of the living room. Queen has a few weeks of downtime before they have to go back into the studio, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at Brian. After the success of News of the World, and particularly the popularity of We Will Rock You, you know that Brian is already feeling the pressure to deliver something even greater for the next album.

Maybe you should be annoyed at how much time Brian is spending hard at work, but you can’t really bring yourself to be upset when he just seems so stressed and tired. Even from the doorway of the living room you can see the tightness in his shoulders and so, even though you came here looking for him in the hopes of coaxing him back into bed with you, a new plan starts to come together instead as you quietly pad over to Brian.

It’s a testament to how consumed he is by his work that Brian doesn’t notice you until you’re literally right next to him - but the smile he gives you is as warm and genuine as ever as he sets down his pen and leans up to give you a kiss. “Good morning, Y/N. What time is it?”

“Still early enough,” you tell him. “Have you been working long?”

Brian shrugs. “For a bit. I couldn’t sleep,” he says, and you know that means he was probably down here for half the night. He gives you a quick once-over, and a knowing smirk, and adds, “Let me guess. You were coming to distract me?”

“Mm, I was,” you admit, because it’s hard to deny that when you’re wearing a pair of panties and one of Brian’s oversized button-down shirts, and nothing else. “But I think there’s been a change of plans.”

“Oh?” Brian says, clearly curious, but rather than answering you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders. Brian laughs as his hands settle on your waist and he teases, “You call this a chance of plans?”

“Well. Of a sort.” You roll your hips down against Brian’s and he groans, and can’t stop himself from rocking back against you.

“This still seems like a distraction, Y/N,” Brian says, as he starts to trail kisses along your neck.

“Not if you don’t want it to be. I don’t need you to fuck me right now, I just need you hard enough to get inside me,” you tell him.

Brian immediately knows what you’re talking about and he pulls back so he can look at you properly. His mouth has dropped open in surprise but there’s excitement and hunger in his eyes and his voice trembles slightly with desire as he asks, “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive,” you tell him. “You’re not the only one who loves this, remember?”

Because Brian does love this. He loves having you around his cock, sitting on it or holding it in your mouth, not desperately racing towards an orgasm but just being there, close to him in the most intimate way possible. It had taken him years to muster up the courage to ask you for this, and he still doesn’t request it often, but you’ve come to adore that closeness as much as he does.

And more importantly, at least on this occasion, it gives you a way to quite literally stay connected to Brian while he finishes up whatever he’s been working on. If you really wanted Brian’s full attention he would give it to you gladly, but you know that it would come with a price. When Brian returned to his work later he would be out of sorts and off his rhythm, you don’t want to put him through that stress - not when you can relieve some of his tension instead.

“What do you say, babe?” you purr, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw. “Want me to sit on your cock, keep it nice and warm for you while you work?”

“Fuck- Yes, god, yes.” He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, as his hands push under the hem of the shirt that you’re wearing and you reach down to free his cock from his trousers.

He’s not quite fully hard yet, but you weren’t lying when you said that you didn’t need him to be for this. Brian pulls your panties to one side as you raise up on your knees just enough to position his cock at your entrance and start to slowly sink down and, god, even like this he fills you perfectly, like the two of you were made for this, and you moan softly as you take him to the hilt and settle back down onto Brian’s lap.

Your instinct is to rock down on his cock, to get him fully hard and take your pleasure from him, because Brian just feels so good inside you. You bury your face against Brian’s neck, whimpering quietly, as Brian strokes gently up and down your back. “God, god, Bri…”

“Shh, that’s it, just relax, baby.” Brian kisses your temple softly. “You’re so good to me, Y/N, love you so much…”

You nuzzle against Brian and after a few moments you start to relax against him. Brian keeps stroking along your back with one hand, but you hear him reach out with his other hand for the pen he set aside earlier as he starts working again. You lean against him, held in place by his hand on your back and your arms loosely draped around his shoulders, and just enjoy the feeling of Brian surrounding you completely.

He fills your entire senses. You hear his breathing, the sound of his pen scratching at the pad of paper, his faint mumbling as he thinks through his lyrics. You smell his skin and his shampoo where your face is buried in the crook of his neck. And you feel him, his hand on your back and his thighs underneath you and his cock inside you.

You feel it every time one of you shifts, no matter how slightly, and you sigh and whimper as it drags against your inner walls. Even like this his cock is still just thick enough that you can’t ignore it but it’s a comfortable fullness, warm and intimate in a way that always makes your chest tight with love for Brian. You’re aroused, of course you are, but it’s low and easy to set aside.

You had gone looking for Brian not long after you woke up, and once you get used to the feeling of him inside you it’s easy for you to drift into a lazy half-sleep as Brian works. His focus is almost entirely on his work, to the point where he never gets more than half-hard inside you as you warm his cock, but you don’t feel ignored. How can you possibly feel ignored when you’re as close to Brian as you can ever get?

You know that Brian is done working when you shifts underneath you, a bit more purposefully than before and you smile as you’re pulled back into the moment. “All set, then?” you murmur against Brian’s skin.

“All set,” Brian confirms. You hear him set down his pen and then both of his hands are on you again. He gently cups the side of your face and coaxes your head up so you’re looking at him as he smiles and says, “You were amazing. Thank you for this.”

You lean in and kiss him, and even though Brian tries to make it gentle you nip at his bottom lip when you pull away and say, “Good. Can you fuck me properly now?”

Brian laughs, and the hand on your back dips down and pushes up underneath the hem of your shirt so he’s touching your bare skin now. “Yeah, I think I can do that. How do you want to do this?”

“Just like this,” you say as you grind down against him. You can feel yourself growing wetter as you think of Brian fucking you here, with you curled up in his lap and only minutes after you were simply warming his cock while he worked. And Brian is getting harder now, rocking up into you just a little and making you gasp and cling tighter to Brian’s shoulders.

Brian does most of the work here. He doesn’t make you ride him, he just uses his grip on your hips to move you against him as his thrusts get harder and faster. After being filled for so long it feels indescribably wonderful to finally be fucked, and you gasp and moan and bite at Brian’s neck as both of you chase the orgasms that you’ve delayed for so long.

“Touch yourself, baby, touch yourself for me,” Brian pants as he squeezes your hips a little bit tighter, and thrusts up into you a little bit rougher. “I wanna see you come Y/N, want you to come on my cock…”

You bring one hand down to your clit and you cry out at the first touch on your swollen nub, so sensitive after spending so much of the morning in a low state of arousal. You can feel yourself racing towards your peak as you rub tight circles around your clit but it’s Brian who comes first, his hips stuttering up into you as he groans and bites at your shoulder and fills you with come.

And it’s only a second or two later that you follow him over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so quickly and so hard that it takes your breath away and your nails dig into Brian’s shoulder as you gasp, high-pitched and hitching, and rock between Brian’s cock and your own fingers.

The two of you stay there for several long minutes as you catch your breath and Brian presses kisses along your neck and collarbone and you try not to clench down on Brian’s cock as he slowly starts to grow soft inside you again.

“We should move somewhere more comfortable,” Brian says at last.

You should, you know that, but you don’t want to lose this closeness that you have with Brian now. You whine, a little, and press your thighs tighter against his, and say, “Wanna keep you inside me.”

You feel Brian’s spent cock twitch inside you at your words. It’s too soon for either of you to start a round two, but that’s not what you’re asking for and Brian knows it.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see if I can manage this then.”

And he stands, slowly and carefully, as you wrap your legs around his hips and cling to him. His cock slips out, just a little, a trickle of come sliding out as well, and when you reach the bedroom Brian has to pull out completely while the two of get situated in the bed - but then he slides back inside you and you sigh as he slots into place again and the two of you wrap yourselves around each other again.

[badmcuposts]

Seven-Pointed Star

For @avenging-criminal-bones by @badmcuposts [OR READ HERE on AO3]

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T for language

Relationships: minor Peter/MJ, Peter & Tony, minor Tony/Pepper, Peter & May, Tony & May

Warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts

Summary:

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

One shape.

One goddamn shape was all Tony Stark had ever wanted.

By the time he was six, everyone he knew had already gotten both of their soulmate tattoos. One on the left wrist for romantic, and one on the right wrist for platonic.

He got his left tattoo when he was four, a square with pink and green chevron lining the inside, accompanied by a blue circle in the upper right hand corner.

He remembered frantically dropping his pencil, running to his mother with glee in his eyes. For such a little boy, he really could hold a lot of energy inside of him. Maria thought it was cute, how happy Tony had been about something so common. Like loosing your first tooth.

She’d told him: “Soon, baby, you’ll get your right marking as well. Then we can celebrate all night long after Daddy goes to bed, hm?”

She hadn’t lived to see that happen, though.

At age 31 he still hadn’t gotten his right tattoo. Maybe he was just... unlovable. Not in romance, clearly, but in friendship.

Rhodey had a red and gold triangle, the colors slipping and mixing as they lined to form the hollow shape. Tony liked the colors. They were stylish.

But Happy had the matching tattoo. Not him.

And they always seemed so fucking happy about it, too. Like they were just trying to rub it in Tony’s face. They weren’t- he knew that. God, he wasn’t a toddler. He understood that two people could be friends without it being a personal thing. But... it still hurt, you know?

On sleepless nights, when Tony couldn’t be bothered to drown his sorrows in the lab, he thought about how much better off he would be if he didn’t have to look at that stupid bare skin, each pore taunting him with its nudity.

The assumption stood that, perhaps, if he wasn’t so hell bent on sticking it out for his left wrist’s sake, he would have given in to the right and left a long time ago.

He normally wore long sleeves, to cover his shame behind cloth. He didn’t want people being reminded that Tony Fucking Stark still lacked a platonic soulmate. Like an ingrate. Some kind of mistake of god that nobody could ever match to.

The cloth was it itchy today, though. Maybe he hadn’t washed the blazer properly last night, or it was just his skin being unbearbly sensitive, but it felt... itchy. All morning it had. Like something was going on with him.

“Tony?” Obie asked him. “Can you sign this?”

The man didn’t hesitate to grab the pen, too busy focusing on the itch along his appendage to worry about whatever the hell he was signing. Obie would never lead him astray, anyhow.

As he reached forward to place his John Hancock, he felt a the itch quickly escalate and grow in mere milleseconds, before turning into a horrible burning sensation.

Hot.

Hotter, hotter, hotter it grew. The man grabbed at the skin in pain, hunching over as he screamed. It felt like... the way his left wrist had felt, back when he got his romantic mark.

What the hell?

Could... could it be...? No- was it...

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

His own platonic tattoo. All his. It stood for something. It meant so much- it meant that his being was truly meant to be loved.

It was then that he realized just how odd the timing was. Soulmate tattoos appeared on the eldest’s skin when the younger was born, so why had his come now?

What the hell was he supposed to do with a newborn baby?

-

Peter Benjamin Parker was born with both of his soulmate tattoos already present.

His parents had taken so many photos that day, their shining faces proudly showing off their baby boy’s little markings.

On his left hand, the shape of a black dahlia flower, all done up in blood red. On his right, a beautiful baby blue seven-pointed star with a diamond in the center.

He opened his eyes after a few minutes, crosseyed as most little ones were for the first few months. Peter smiled when his Daddy held his little wrists out, proudly showing them off to the boy.

He spoke of their history, the way that fate had assigned Peter to two people already, people that would love him more than anything in the world. That somewhere in the world- another person shared his special markings. His soulmates at birth, star-crossed partners in love or in friendship.

Of course, at less than a day old, Peter had absolutely no idea what his father was saying, but seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

The infant was absolutely adorable- and had continued in that stride for the years after. He met Michelle in freshman year at Midtown, and they started dating not long after, their matching wrists promising a lifetime of love.

He often wondered, though, as many children would, who had his other matching tattoo.

-

Tony scanned the files he may or may not have stolen from the government.

Each teenage boy had been verified by FRIDAY, a perfect candidate for the little spiderling that had been meander around Queens for the last few months.

There wasn’t much of a reason to it, just some primal instinct he had. No big fight coming up or coup he had to instigate.

The kid had skill, and a lot of untapped potential. He could be great, if only he was trained. Which he wouldn’t be, unless Tony got to him before some rag tag group of thugs did.

God, that would be a mess.

He flipped through the pages, slowly weening out the boy’s that lacked a motive, a concept too human for FRIDAY to understand. Yet.

One file caught his attention, though. The face of a prepubescent boy with messy hair and bright eyes. He was adorable, really. But that’s not what snatched Tony’s eye.

It was the birthdate.

August 10th, 2001 had been the day he got his right tattoo. One of the best days of his life.

There was always the chance that it was a fluke, a coincidence of the ages. Never meant to be, simply crashed in place and left to rest.

But the pictures on the next page of the file sent those thoughts straight underground.

As any other social security file would, this one came with pictures of either soulmate tattoos, accompanied by a description of them for paperwork sake. The images were clearly taken of a newborn baby, likely at the hospital not long after birth.

Peter Parker’s right tattoo was a match.

-

“Hey, May!” Peter called, stepping into the old apartment as he returned from school, his mind still a little bleary over the fact that Cindy Moon had really just chugged 12 diet cokes in one sitting at lunch.

“Oh, hey!” The woman returned, her voice fading in as the boy slowly removed his earbuds and grunted as he sat his backpack down on the chair by the kitchen table. “How was school today?”

He smiled in fond admiration. “Okay.” He responded, “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” he began, before pausing suddenly.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Was his hair okay? What about his teeth? Was there anything in his teeth? God, there was probably something in his teeth. Were his glasses smudged? Wait- no, no glasses. How about his clothes?

“Oh, Mr. Parker.” The man sitting on his couch acknowledged.

Peter stuttered, his voice leaving him as his face went numb under pressure. The boy had never been used to the spotlight. “I- wha- what? What are you doi- hey, I- I’m- I’m- I’m Peter. Wai-”

“Tony.” The billionaire greeted. His hair was less shiny in person, and he had a few more wrinkles than he did on TV, Peter noticed.

Tony, he had said, like they were... friends or something. Miss Janelle always said that you shouldn’t refer to public figures by their first names, because they aren’t your friends- they’re sources.

That was weird. This was weird. Everything was weird.

The boy stammered. “What are you- what are you- what are you doing here?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s about time we met.”

In his peripheral vision, Peter could just make out his Aunt frantically mouthing “What The Fuck” as her eyes blew up wider than a hornet nest. At least he wasn’t the only shocked one here.

“You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Mr. Stark asked him. Suddenly, the man winked his eyes, smirking a little.

What the fuck?

The boy played along. After all, when Tony Stark is signaling for you to follow his lead and do as he says, you listen. “Yeah, yeah, regarding the...”

“You didn’t tell me about the grant.” May chirped..

Peter took the lead. “About the grant.” He nodded. Wait... what grant?

“The September Foundation.” Mr. Stark allotted, waving his hand as though metaphorically giving Peter the next bit of information for whatever crazy scheme he had just been pulled into.

The boy shrugged and smiled. “Right.” He agreed. “Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Tony asked.

No, Peter thought, I never fucking applied for anything. What the hell is going on, Mr. Iron Man?

But he didn’t say that, did he?

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. The man gleamed. “I approved! So, now, we’re in business.”

May shifted in her seat, seemingly compromised by whatever bullshit story it was that the older male had told her. Seriously, what was their story here? “You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?” She asked.

“Well, I just- I just know how much you love surprises.” Peter offered, sending an experimental glance towards the other, testing that he was sticking to the plan he had yet to be informed of.

“Anyway, what did I apply for?” The teen hurriedly asked.

Mr. Stark bluntly blinked, a sign that Peter was definitely not as good of an actor as he liked to hope. Maybe he should start doing drama with MJ, that could help...

“That’s what I’m here to hash out.” The man claimed. “Okay, hash it- hash it out. Okay.” Peter agreed stupidly. He had no idea what he was doing.

As if trained in the art of lying, the richest one in the room drew attention away crom Peter’s misstep. “It’s so hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” “Yeah, well we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?” “This walnut date loaf is exceptional.”

“I’m gonna just stop you there.” Peter interjected. God, Tony Stark was hitting on his Aunt.

So. Weird.

Mr. Stark chuckled a little. “Yeah?” He asked.

Suddenly, some distant part of Peter’s mind clicked. His Aunt’s face glowed in his mind, like when a character in a movie saw a hot girl and everything slowed down. Not that he thought May was hot, because, ew.

No, he was focusing on the word: Grant.

“Does this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? No?” He asked.

Mr. Stark slowed, seemingly confused by the question. “Yeah...” He began. “Yeah?” Peter echoed. “Well, it’s- it’s pretty well funded.” Oh. Not as exciting- but, still, being in the presence of money like that...

Peter remembered when he was little, when his still-living father would take him to New Rochelle on the weekends, just to see it.

“Look at these fellas long and hard, Pete.”

“They’re just rich people houses, Daddy!”

“Don’t you wanna live in one of ‘em?”

“Can’t. We’re not rich people.”

“Well? Here’s your inspiration, kiddo. Use that inspiration for your whole life. All you need for success is to be nearby what you want, to remind yourself that it is real and attainable. Then you really will work as hard as you can. This is the goal, so you don’t give up until you’ve got it.”

Peter’s mind wandered back to the present, Mr. Stark’s face still moving with his words. “Wow.” He gasped.

“I mean, look who you’re talking to.” The man joked. He turned to May. “Can I have five minutes with him?” He asked, pointing towards the bedroom off to the side with PETER clearly emblazoned across the door.

May smiled politely, of course, though Peter was pretty sure she was still uncomfortable with a grown man entering Peter’s bedroom. “Sure.”

They piled into Peter’s small bedroom, his twin bed thankfully having been made that morning. It was still a total mess. Mr. Stark really should have given a warning.

-

Tony was just happy that the kid hadn’t spent too long claiming not to be Spider-Man. He was relatively easy to quell, for a 14-year-old. Not that much teen spirit or whatever the kids called it nowadays. One mention of good pay and a spot on the team and the boy was all for the arrangement.

Peter would be working under Tony until he was old enough to join the Avengers Initiative- that is, if Tony says he’s ready then. Just some mentoring, getting the kid some decent field experience. And a better suit, because... yeesh.

That onesie across the room was an insult to all of superhero suit kind.

“Next order of business,” The man continued, “Roll up your sleeve.”

Peter spluttered. “What?” He remarked.

Tony sighed, before doing so on his own account, revealing that ever familiar design to Peter’s eyes.

The boy began to shake, his whole face going pale as he whispered “Is that...”

“A match? One can only be sure in person, kid.”

Peter gingerly removed his jacket and pulled up the right sleeve of his pullover, revealing his own seven-pointed star, made in a perfect baby blue, with a diamond encased in the center.

The man smiled, happily looking down at the little details, all familiar to him.

His own platonic soulmate. Right next to him.

He didn’t understand how or why, but one thing was for certain. This kid? This adorable, dopey-eyed kid with a onesie in his celling. He would protect this kid at all costs.

[leonawriter]

Smoke and Fox-Fire

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs/Mononoke

Characters: Dazai, Tanizaki, Ranpo, others mentioned/minor appearances. Background skk.

Summary: Dazai comes to a decision, Tanizaki is enlisted and then mildly traumatised, and Ranpo realises that he had made an error of judgement.

Notes: References to less than ideal childhood situations, and potential BSD manga spoilers.

(Part three of the “Not All Kitsune Have Nine Tails” ‘verse. Follows Denning Down.)

...

It was mid-afternoon, so far nothing interesting or dangerous had happened yet, and for the most part, it had been a day of normal work activity- with the only very recent addition of Dazai's more sensitive hearing picking up on more than he would have normally, and the way his tail moving around without him able to actually control it to the fine degree that he sometimes wished he could meaning that things would sometimes... wind up falling off tables. 

Things like pens, and pencils, and Kunikida's paperwork...

Anyway, Dazai was bored, and a bored Dazai was never good for the office, far more than a Dazai who simply didn't want to do his work, and part of the reason why he was bored was... it had a lot to do with how much he'd hated pushing all of the things that had made him feel less like he was trying to fit into some role he wasn't suited to play for the past- it hadn't quite been twenty years. A fair bit less. But it was long enough.

Long enough he couldn't really remember that memory he knew that both Atsushi and Chuuya had 'seen' somehow, of him as a small child. Toddling toward his mother, an indistinct person his younger self had only referred to as Mofa-Mofa, something that had had a somewhat less indistinct man laugh and try to correct him to "Mama."

"He knows what he's saying. Don't you, Osamu? Because you like soft things. And Mama is soft."

Reaching out and up to her hair, to clamber into her lap, and getting visibly annoyed when the only thing he touched was hair, and as nice as his seat was, there was no soft thing to grab at or hold onto. 

"Not as soft as he thinks, it seems. Maybe he just got attached to that ratty old sweater you were wearing for a while?"

She'd laughed, barking - a little too slow, and he'd somehow been able to hear that even then - and just said, "Maybe."

It'd been a lie, of course. He knew that now. More than that, Atsushi and Chuuya both knew all of the sordid details of childhood - had discovered them with him, all of the repressed memories of how his father had grown colder and had taken his mother for granted, of how she had left-

Too much time meant too much time to think. 

It wasn't that the memories themselves hurt, exactly. They were so old, and he could barely remember any of the people in them, even thinking of himself as that small, soft person with no hard edges and no bandages wrapped around his small limbs was an almost alien thought.

Thinking about them for too long meant thinking about what they meant, though, and although there were many thing he had let go of, that he'd had to let go of, in order to stop and break away from everything and let himself start anew, even though he knew the truth... it was one thing to know, to come to a decision and move on. Another to know what to do after that.

Perhaps, he wondered, he still held more than a little resentment. Not directed at anyone in particular, anymore. But just in general.

The Agency's clock ticked another half hour gone. 

Dazai blinked up at the ceiling from the sofa, and reassured himself with the familiar buzz of office noise and voices.

The point was - the point of it all was, that he didn't exactly enjoy going out and having to hide the fur under his skin in such a way, when it didn't want to stay under like that. It made him itch all over, like he'd wrapped his bandages on too tight, or too roughly, something catching at him all the time whenever he paid it too much mind.

The thought kept striking him, as he went to and from Chuuya's to the Agency and out again for other reasons, that even with everything hidden, someone would see him, and it wouldn't matter to them that they shouldn't be able to - someone from outside of the Agency or even the mafia who wasn't a spirit or demon themself would see, they would notice something off. He'd say something wrong. A stumble on the pavement. His heart would hammer in his chest.

He'd never felt so uneasy with the thought of being seen before, and he wasn't so bothered about it when he was in the Agency or Chuuya's place, so what was it that was so different? Other than the sheer amount of people, of course. And people he didn't know. People who would just look at him, and judge him.

It felt like having a loose bandage somewhere on his arm, or his neck, which he hadn't been able to fix and that at any moment, might unravel further than he could handle, but he was always a little too far from somewhere private enough to fix it.

...

"Ta-ni-za-ki-kun...."

He jumps maybe a foot in the air from where he'd been sitting at his desk, or it feels that way, and it shows by the amount of strange, unrelated letters and words that had just appeared on the report he'd been working on for the simple recon mission he'd been sent on yesterday. 

It wasn't unsalvageable. At least he hadn't already pressed send.

"Uh... Dazai-san?" 

It wasn't as if he's not used to Dazai's antics. He is. He's just not so used to them being aimed at him - Kunikida, yes, and Atsushi now too, but up until now he'd somehow managed to not get hit with the worst of it.

Perhaps this was only happening because Kunikida and Atsushi were outside, and from the sounds of things working on Atsushi's training.

And now his ex-mafia coworker is staring at him with wide eyes and a too-wide smile on his face for it to mean anything good, and those new ears of his are pointed upright at attention on the top of his head. Which would be more unnerving if it wasn't the second day of it, and he hadn't already seen Atsushi transform often enough to almost become used to human beings with animal features.

...Well. Mostly human, in Dazai's case. Which was also going to take some getting used to.

"You see Tanizaki-kun, I have a problem and I was starting to realise that you might be the only one I can go to who might be able to help me with this problem. You will help me, won't you?"

He found himself staring. Dazai didn't move. He only blinked.

"I, uh... are you sure I'm the only who can help you? I mean, there's everyone else, and-"

"Nooo.... no, see, it absolutely has to be you. I mean, as far as I'm aware, you're the only one I know who uses illusions. So it has to be you."

"Uh-" For a moment, his mind blanks out. But that's when one of Dazai's new ears twitches, and he starts to get a sinking feeling. "No... no. No, I'm not just following you around all the time so you can go out like that in public. It'd fail the moment I bumped into you anyway, so it'd definitely not work at all."

He gets the feeling that he's either said the wrong thing or there's something he hadn't thought of, because Dazai isn't smiling as much anymore, but hopefully if he's realised how this won't work he'll leave him alone and then he can just get on with his work.

"You misunderstand," Dazai says, sounding far too serious for someone several years older than him who's still crouching on the floor so that his head's just barely looking over the top of his desk. "I wasn't asking for you to use your ability. What I was after was a... second opinion, of sorts. I wanted to know how you use it."

"You- okay?"

"I need to know. Because of reasons."

"Don't you already know how my ability works, though...?"

And now he didn't just look serious, or frowning, he looks downright frustrated, and he doesn't even know what he's said wrong.

"If you want to say something, just come out and say it, Dazai."

Ranpo's voice comes loud and clear over the noise and distance of the office between them.

Ranpo, who doesn't seem all that surprised, or at all bothered, by what was going on. Which at least eased up the pressure of the idea that whatever was going on, it was another imminent disaster or emergency.

Dazai hesitated, and then stood up, which now meant that instead of looking across his desk to meet his eyes, Junichiro needed to look up given he was still sitting down. His hands were in his coat's pockets and his expression wasn't really giving all that much away, but something about the tail and ears moving - even if he didn't know all that much about animal body language, or fox behaviour for that matter - suggested that he was agitated. Which wasn't saying much, but when it was Dazai, and he wouldn't have known that if he couldn't see the fur move...

"What I've been trying to say is, I'm not asking for the sake of learning about your ability. I already know as much as I need to know about that. What I'm asking for is... I need to be able to learn more about how to control my own illusions. I thought that asking you would help."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say-

"But you don't have an illusion-based ability?"

"Do the changes to my body look like the result of an ability to you, Tanizaki-kun?"

"W-well, when you say it like that- not... not really... no? I just. It's strange to think of you having that kind of ability- uh... is that even the right kind of term for something like this?" He sighed, and saved his work. Kunikida was going to be annoyed about the drop in productivity but... "Hang on, I'm guessing if this isn't an ability, that means the Director's doesn't work on it, right?"

"Nope." It was kind of unnerving, the way that while he glanced over to see Ranpo looking in their direction, Dazai didn't move at all. Actually, no, that wasn't true - a part of him did move. A single ear. "Youkai magic doesn't run on the same rules. Because of that, Dazai might be hit by magic that he'd have automatically nullified if it was an ability." Which wasn't worrying or anything at all, clearly. And reminds him of what they'd been told about Lovecraft. Which made remembering what he'd managed to do feel like some sort of small miracle. "Which is both good and bad. But right now, the important thing is that no, the Director's ability doesn't work on it, so if Dazai wants to take control back..."

...He'll have to learn it the same way everyone else does, if they aren't in the Agency, Tanizaki finished. 

"I guess that does make sense," he admits. 

"So... how did you first get Light Snow under control? Unless-"

A sudden warmth from behind is all of the warning he gets before he feels familiar arms wrap around his front, and Naomi's speaking from right beside his ear.

"No, nii-sama did have some control back then, didn't you~?"

His mind goes blank against his will as the memories come to him, and it's only partly because he still really wishes that she'd stop acting like that and making a scene in public-

It's like how when Atsushi had brought up their entrance exams. He could still barely remember his other than the sheer terror and adrenaline that had kept him going. He'd prefer not to remember, if that was an option. He'd really like not to.

"I, uh," his brain stutters back to being able to function, which is harder than it should be with Naomi still clinging onto him. "That's- how about, we just go with, um- something simple. Like, what your upper and lower limits are."

Dazai blinks at him.

He gets the unnerving feeling that he's just broadcast everything he'd just been thinking about and not meant to outright say without having needed to say anything. For once, he doesn't mind Naomi's public clinging, because it gives him that slight feeling of support that he really needed. Even if he did wish she wouldn't-

"Okay. I think that I can safely say that I know what my upper limits are... but I really need to figure out how to do anything smaller than that."

"I... okay? Okay. So. What... is that, exactly?" What's making this awkward is that he's really starting to wish that Dazai had been able to go to, say, Kunikida about this. At least he had experience knowing how to teach people! Meanwhile, he just had experience being anxious and not knowing what to do, unless it meant infiltration and covert ops, which was exactly why the Port Mafia's boss had singled him out from everyone at the Agency to do some sort of exchange program thing at some unspecified time- he had no idea what he was doing, or where to start. "I mean, are those upper limits big, or is it, something we're going to need to work on later as well?"

"My upper limits get people hurt, they don't need improving-"

"Kitsune illusions aren't hard light, Dazai," Ranpo says, cutting across the conversation and whatever Junichiro himself might have been about to say, and he sounds annoyed, frustrated. It's his 'people are being stupid' voice. "They just show people things that aren't there! Don't talk tough when all you can do is-"

"Allow me to correct myself, then," Dazai says, and all of a sudden Junichiro is wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere else. And, mostly, that Dazai wasn't using that tone of voice on another member of the Agency like that. "My upper limits have hurt people. Is that enough?"

"But it's impossible."

Dazai seems to just... stare, unreadable, while their best detective calms down. What was strange was that he knew perfectly well how destructive illusions could be - he'd done things he wouldn't normally even consider, when people had threatened Naomi, endangering lives easily, even. But Ranpo and Dazai were talking about kitsune illusions like they were something entirely different.

"...I'm sure that if you asked," Dazai said, the words sounding heavy and weighted, "about what happened the other day... then Kunikida-kun would say otherwise."

Junichiro had seen and heard things the other day that had told him as much, but if he hadn't believed it then, the odd noise that somehow came out of Ranpo when Dazai said that confirmed that there was definitely something up with him as well. He had to wonder if maybe he was showing it more because now it wasn't just him, but Dazai, and everyone else, so he felt more comfortable about it.

Part of him hoped that was the case, at least.

He feels Naomi hold him tighter, and the fact that her hands had stopped wandering a while back says a lot about how she just wants to have someone to hold onto as well, right now.

"...Inari bless you," he hears Ranpo say, quietly enough that if he hadn't been straining his ears to hear it, he thinks he probably wouldn't have. "That was you. You were- I mean, of course it was you, but I just- thought that-"

"Does any of that even matter? All that matters right now is me figuring out how to get a hold of and control what I can do now."

"From... scratch."

I was wrong, Junichiro admits to himself in the privacy of his own mind, watching the exchange in front of him, Dazai slipping back into his mafia game face isn't the scariest thing in the world. 

The scariest thing in the world is Ranpo looking like he hasn't got a clue what's going on anymore.

...

Inari bless you is what keeps circling around in Ranpo's head, even through the rest of what he's saying, the rest of what Dazai's saying, even though he knows the others are watching.

Somehow, the fact that it had been Dazai who'd been the second mononoke, who'd come into work the next day small and red and fluffy and acting like everything was new, had caught him off guard. Because it was Dazai, who was one of his few equals in terms of intellect and smarts in not just the Agency, but anywhere. 

Because it was Dazai, he'd just assumed without even thinking, that he'd just... forgotten everything, somehow. 

With a mononoke that strong, it would have made sense if Dazai were older. And if he was just as young as he said he was, then to have become as powerful that quickly made sense too, because it was Dazai.

But there were two different ways a mononoke could be created.

One was the most common way - a spirit got mixed up with a human, or human emotions, and when everything got intense enough, usually because of grief or anger or confusion or hate or just needing things to be sorted out right, a mononoke would be born. Drawing people in and destroying them. Things that weren't supposed to exist, and that had to be exorcised.

The other way... was by the spirit and human sides of the equation being mixed up right from the start. Both more stable, but also a potential ticking time bomb if things really went wrong-

Hanyou. Half-human kids. 

They weren't exactly unheard of, they weren't discriminated against or anything. They were just... rare. Because things went wrong. Because humans could be cruel, and petty, and just as fickle with their attentions as they thought cats were. People got hurt, and... the kids usually got caught in the crossfire.

Usually it wasn't too bad. Usually they could handle things, found their own place in the world, settled down either on one side or the other, or found a decent middle ground.

Dazai, though - if this was true, then Dazai was the worst case scenario, where none of that happened and they never did, and it- explained too much. About everything.

Dazai wasn't just young, he was practically a kit still, by normal adult kitsune standards, but by human standards he was already an adult. Not one thing or the other. Having somehow never learned anything.

"All right," Ranpo said, "how about we start off slow, then? Basics. I'm nekomata, not kitsune, but I'm not stupid, I do know some things you should be capable of. Other than the shapeshifting."

"But I want control," Dazai said, somehow sounding like he was whining even when he was almost completely blank-faced. "Not to learn how to do more."

"This is control. Most of what you should be able to do is going to come naturally to you at some point, so it's better you learn now, rather than have it all blow up in your face."

Again, he holds back from saying.

He knows he isn't good at reading when things are rude or not when talking with people, but Dazai's like an adult cat who's forgotten how to use his claws. Or what his whiskers do.

Which isn't even exactly right, because as a hanyou, Dazai probably hadn't ever even learned in the first place to be able to forget.

He sighed, when Dazai still wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Tanizaki - you don't think about using your ability, right? Like, it's got to be activated on purpose, but it's like Kunikida's, you just do it."

"Uh- yeah, I... I think that's pretty much how it works? I just-"

"Right," he continued, now that the important things had all been said, "so just - stop thinking about how and starting thinking of... I don't know, what's the smallest and most simple thing you can think of, Dazai?"

For a moment, no response. Which was starting to get more than a bit frustrating, because it wasn't like he was asking much-

And now Dazai was probably thinking he was being subtle, which he wasn't. 

As subtle as a kit with a crush pulling that person's tail, Ranpo thinks snidely, but doesn't say. Then again, Poe was an adult human and he was just as clueless about how these things went. Not to mention how long Yosano had been trying to drag Kunikida into loosening up, and... well. It wasn't like it was anything out of the ordinary, he supposed, but what it was, was frustrating to watch. Even Poe's cluelessness got frustrating at times, as cute as it was.

"Come on, Dazai, you can think of something, we haven't got all day, you know..."

He just hoped that mentioning something small didn't get them a miniature - if illusionary - mafia executive in the offices.

"Uh, Ranpo-san, do you really think it's a good idea to push him like that, I mean- if-"

"Psh- Dazai only knows what he can do under pressure." He rolled his eyes, and then looked back at Dazai. "You're not going to get anything done if you think it's a great idea to put a mental block on things just because you think you're suddenly dangerous just because you blew up one time. So stop making a firestorm of a little fox-fire."

He stares for a moment longer, just long enough to smugly catch the slight expression of shock on the former mafioso's face, and turned away again, reaching back into the open bag of sweets he'd mixed up earlier.

He's already started to lose track of how many he's chewed on by the time he hears footsteps outside near the door - that could only be Kunikida and an exhausted and frustrated Atsushi, back from their training session - and already starting to wonder how long it's going to be before he gets any more good cases, his hand reaching back for another one, when-

"Dazai." Kunikida's voice was level and quiet, which on anyone else was probably supposed to be giving the impression they were keeping their cool, but on Kunikida... "Why is there fire floating over your paperwork?"

He blinked.

The snack still in his hand, he twisted so that he could turn to see, and there Dazai was, staring at the pile, which certainly looked like it was only a moment away from being set on fire.

"I can't touch it," Dazai was saying, dramatically serious. "If I touch it, then it's going to turn real, and then it really will burn all my paperwork. And my desk. Which would be awful. Wouldn't you agree, Kunikida-kun? So as you can see, there's absolutely no way I can do any of it."

Kunikida stared at the fox-fire with the intensity of someone who really didn't know what was going on, whose brain had already come close to breaking just the previous day. 

Slowly, he turned away from Dazai's desk, eyes wide like he was questioning all of his life choices at once.

"Is... is that true?"

Tanizaki just shrugged awkwardly. Kenji was staring, but seemed more entranced with the idea that it was possible than anything. Atsushi seemed like he was the only one who wasn't really sure what to believe, which made sense, given he was one of the only other youkai in the office.

Ranpo just grinned, and purposefully put the snack into his mouth.

"How should I know? It's Dazai, isn't it?"

Of course he knew the fire was just fake. It was the same stuff foxes in the forests used to both mess around with humans and to lead them back on track. But he couldn't just lead everyone around by the hand. For one thing, they had to figure things out for themselves, there had to be at least some things they could do without him - and for another thing, things would just be boring if he did.

...

AN: "Mama" is a common way for young children to call their mother, as much as "Haha-ue" and "Kaa-san". 

"Mofu-mofu", meanwhile, is the Japanese onomatopoeia for "soft", and "fluffy". 

Baby Dazai was basically mixing the two up and calling her "Muffy" or something like that - because his mama was fluffy, of course.

My first experience with hanyou was Inuyasha, but the way it was handled (only human on a new moon) annoyed me a lot, and I feel wasn't a good portrayal of a half-human character, so... this is more a mix of other things I've seen since then.

[marcarella-pizza]

Colouring/ Shading/ Lighting for Digital art

HI! Hello~ I’m here and I have a teeny tiny tutorial for you today (courtesy of dear Melito who actually wants my help??? I’m??? Blessed??? I realise that there’s a lot of you who have no clue who the fuck this person I’m referring to is, oh well, not my problem — ur missing out on hella great cake.)

So I have a timelapse of everything (below, duh, in case you can’t scroll) and I’m also gonna make comments on it cus ya know, these vids are only a minute long and thirty fucking megabytes like Jesus Christ.

So without further ado-do!

Should I have added music? Probably??? Ehhh the deathly silence can comfort you. (Wow what a mood.)

The Run Down:

Is rundown one word or two??

When colouring, I break it up into three main steps: base, line and “Hiding All My Fuck Ups”

(First) Base

I’ve never made it to first base... or any base

When colouring, use a non translucent brush to colour in everything. As in, so it’s completely solid??? Where’s my English today?

For every different colour, put it on another layer! I tend to do the skin colour first. You can go over lines that will be covered with another colour... did that make sense?

That’s it, I just felt the need to have three steps at least.

Line

As in... line art.

What I do is I lock my layer — that means when I try to add colour, colour will only be applied to the area that’s been drawn on.

I usually colour pick the colour I used for the base, and the line looks very pale when done (I do this with a non translucent brush too)

I then adjust the layer with lineart so the colour looks darker and more saturated. For my program (Medibang) I go Filter > Hue > Max out the saturation and lower the brightness > save. Sometimes I may do it again if it’s not dark enough.

If you can’t edit the colour then there’s another way! Duplicate your lineart > select the layer on top > change blending/ layer type to “Multiply” (it multiples the colour... duh)

If THAT doesn’t work I have one last suggestion before I sadly admit idk — duplicate line art > select top layer > colour the entire think a dark colour or black > lower the opacity

Line art done! (This time I wanted six steps — 6 is my fav number)

“Hiding All My Fuck Ups”

I rely on this too much okay?

I can actually further split this into two; shading and “I’m Kidding Myself” — let’s begin!

Shading

To shade, I work from bottom layer up!

What you’re gonna do, is select your bottom colour, (or any really but ORDER HELPS) and lock the layer.

Why? That way it’s easier to colour without going over the lines! (Your building on the foundation you set essentially)

With a semi translucent brush (FYI, translucent brushes are thinks like “blur” or “smudge” that purely affect what’s there and do not add anything) I use the watercolour brush set at 15-20% opacity.

I’ll eyedrop the base colour that I’m shading, and with the colour wheel, tru and find a darker version of that. NOTE: when looking for a darker colour, I don’t go to the black, I try and find a more saturated colour OR a darker HUE — black is a curse, I don’t ever use pure black or pure white — give your work the colour it deserves UwU

With the watercolour brush, I literally run the darker colour over all lines that indicate a shade (imagine a light somewhere and what that light touches is what you mainly focus on)

For clothes, I follow the creases I’ve drawn

For hair, I tru to imagine the hair in three main shapes and run the colour over the perimeters of those

Then it’s time to blend! I usually just eye drop the base colour again for this, and trace (lightly, our tablets have pressure sensitivity — same going for steps 1-8) the line that divides the light from the dark, adding a middle ground since the watercolour brush is only semi transparent.

For adding blush to skin: create new layer above skin layer > set to multiply, again, if you can’t do this then you follow same steps as before with line art) > using an Airbrush like brush (soft, no sharp edges, kind blurred), colour the skin areas that need blush.

Skin areas that need blush; areas with LOTS of blood vessels (head... the OTHER head...) areas with thinner skin (elbows, knuckles, knees)

If your skin layer was on the bottom, your blush will only appear on top of the skin and not the other layers!

Just be careful about the areas outside the drawing — you may need to do some tiny erasing

Finally, merge all the colours together. Sometimes different layer types don’t like to merge together without screwing up your other layers, to avoid simply merge them one at a time from bottom up.

As in, second last one and last one merged together, then the one above that merged with the last one — merge everything with the last one... AM I MAKING SENSE?!

I’ll usually merge the lineart with the colour too — I just didn’t here for some reason

“I’m Kidding Myself”

Here we add stuff that hides flaws and merges the character with a background if you have one!

I use three types of layers for this, if your program doesn’t use these then see if they have similar functioning ones (I’m always experimenting so this isn’t set in stone) if your program has nothing then... this will be a little harder, you’re gonna have to do this by hand somehow.

I use these kinds of blending layers; Multiply, Overlay and Add

First I prevent getting the colour on anything BUT the character; magic wand tool > select the empty space > hold ctrl/shift and keep tapping to add or remove areas > invert if you need in order for the art piece to be selected

You can see this when my background when blue, I’m basically highlighting my art of Yuri

Colour this entire space on a new layer. The colour I use doesn’t change here on out (except in the video I do cus I lose the colour but that’s aside the point). When choosing a colour, consider the colour of light — I use human colours??? Colours you find on a person essentially.

As a general rule of thumb; for every new thing, new layer, it gets a little harder here. I also use a semi translucent (watercolour) brush again for everything!

Now we have a silhouette of Yuri — I set this to multiply, it’s essentially like a highlighter marker pen but darker?? This is so that I may adjust the entire colour to fit the lighting colour

New layer (NL), I set to Overlay. Overlay is like multiply except bright! Remember what I did when shading? Yep, rinse and repeat! Afterwards, adjust the layer’s opacity setting so that it fits better with the image.

I’ll also make the brush really tiny and go over hey areas to highlight such as the edge of the nose, chin and jaw — I’ll also add shine to the eyes.

NL, set to Add. I only ever use this layer if I want to achieve “blinding lights” sort of looks. So when the lighting is immense, I have a white background, or the background is incredibly bright.

I use add layer scarcely, to blemish any lines and make it look more refined. I’ll also adjust opacity if need be.

NL, I’ll use the airbrush set too REALLY BIG (1000 usually) and if I have a background, will try and add light to it by making this layer multiply too. I’ll add darkness in the side or corner of the background etc.

NL do the same thing with Add except also make a point for where the light is coming from.

NL, I’ll use a mix of Add and Overlay to add sparkles, fragments, light spots etc depending on image type of need be

Using a Fluffy pastel brush (it’s textured) I also use pure white. This is the only time I ever do.

I’ll add reflection to eyes, jaw and nose. For hair, I’ll pick out a few strands of hair where it’s darker and throw in some loose lines. Clothes are rarely outlined and only where light touch. I use this limitedly.

Ctrl + D ;) to deselect the lasso tool — I don’t usually merge the layers after this because it’s usually too messy and I’m done anyway so I save it, however you CAN put them all in a FOLDER if need be. (I have a few in my vid, the entire thing is in a folder tbh)

Voila! That’s it!

I hope this has been of some help or use! And that this makes SOME sense... I’m absolute shit at explaining everything...

This was incredibly fun to do tho and I spent two hours typing this all! Wow!

Okay thanks for reading! (Hope this helped Melitooooooo, don’t forget the wedding cake ~ v/ important part of marriage you know)

[terpia]

Under Pressure

Summary:  Dani is struggling with law school assignments, and Fiona is determined to do her best to help her. Unfortunately, life has slightly different plans for her.

Rating: T

Words: 2424

Ao3: (link)

Notes: This was written for the @phandomficfests secret Santa exchange, as a gift to the wonderful @yikesola. A big thank you to @jestbee for beta reading it!

For as long as Fiona could recall, winter used to always be her favourite time of year. Between the break from school, Christmas and her birthday in January, the winter season just seemed to bring so much joy and excitement into her life when she was little. In many ways, that still hasn’t changed. Just thinking about the upcoming (and much needed) break from uni, the fast-approaching holidays and her January birthday “week,” as Dani called it, brought a smile to her lips. Unfortunately, growing up and progressing further in the education system sullied somewhat the purity of her winter enjoyment by introducing a new depressing factor: end of semester assessments.

Fiona stared grimly at her planner, where 3 major assignments and an exam were all crammed together in the first week and a half of December. Although purely number-wise this was less workload than she was used to while doing her undergrad degree, the increased requirements and larger word counts of a master’s programme meant that she found herself busier than ever. And this year, grades and meeting deadlines were not the only things she was worried about.

Fiona glanced across the room to where Dani was lying on the bed, surrounded by what seemed like ten thousand textbooks; some of them in small unstable stacks, others lying half-opened and abandoned, while others still were bulging with various objects that Dani has decided to use as bookmarks, ranging from pens and highlighters to empty wrappers and other textbooks. The books all had titles like “Legal Research and Writing” and “Introduction to International Law.”

Dani was staring pensively out the window, the open textbook in front of her completely ignored. Fiona noticed that the page Dani was on had some sort of diagram on it, completely unremarkable except for the fact that it was the exact same diagram that Dani was on an hour earlier.

Fiona gently closed her laptop and went to sit by Dani, who didn’t even turn her head as she sat down on the bed. Fiona just looked at her for a few moments. Even after almost a year of being together, Fiona still could not get over how pretty Dani was. As she took in Dani’s deep brown eyes, her curly shoulder-length hair and a hint of freckles on her cheeks, Fiona could feel a frown forming on her face. Dani’s curly hair, which was usually carefully straightened. Her freckles, which she typically took great care to cover with concealer. Her eyes, and the grey bags beneath them, indicating how little sleep she’s been getting recently. The sweatpants and hoodie she’s been wearing for the past week.

Dani started law school just this September, and it was already becoming pretty obvious that the study of law and Dani were not meant to be. She was struggling enough as it was with her regular classes; the upcoming assignments and exams were driving her up the wall. She was in turns ravaged by anxiety, pacing around restlessly in the middle of the night, or taken over by this strange silent apathy. Fiona didn’t know exactly how to help her, but she was determined to do her best, encouraging Dani and being there for her. She knew that the next few weeks would be hard, but she also knew that together, they could do this.

***

Fiona opened her eyes to a lovely and bright late November morning, and immediately knew that she could not do this. Her temples were throbbing, her eyes were swollen and way too sensitive to the light, and her throat felt as if it was lined with sandpaper. She had her suspicions yesterday evening, between the strange light-headedness and the inexplicable ache in her back muscles, but now it was certain: she was sick. Fiona groaned quietly. Now, of all fucking times. So close to the deadlines. But there was hardly anything she could do about it, feeling so dreadful she could barely force herself to get out of bed. After a brief internal struggle, she took some medication she found in her kitchen cupboard, texted Dani to cancel their studying session, and then immediately went back to bed.

Three hours later, she was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the door. At first she had no intention of moving, but as the knocking persisted, Fiona at last found some strength to get up and go open the door.

Dani was on the other side. She still looked dishevelled and the grey bags under her eyes were still present, but there was also a strangely determined look in her eyes and a plastic bag in her hands.

Fiona blinked in surprise. “Oh, Dani! Come in.”

As Dani walked in, putting down the bag and getting off her coat, Fiona eyed her with confusion. “What are you doing here? Did you forget we cancelled our study session?”

Dani hung up her stuff. “Nope. You’re sick, right?”

Fiona thought that her swollen eyelids, paler than usual complexion and the pyjamas she was wearing in the middle of the day were rather obvious indicators of her current state, but she didn’t say any of this, biting back the unkind words that were pushing to the tip of her tongue. The cold was making her cranky. Instead, she just nodded her head.

Dani nodded back once in response. “Well then. That’s why I’m here. You’re my girlfriend, so I have to take care of you.”

And with that statement, she went to the kitchen. Fiona followed her in.

“I bought you some cough syrup, Lemsip and a nasal spray, as well as a tin of biscuits, because why not,” Dani said, taking stuff out of the bag and putting it on the counter

“You really don’t have to do this, Dani,” Fiona said as gently as possible. “It’s just a normal cold, really, and you have so much other stuff to do.” Dani’s first exam was in just three days.

“No, I have to be here. You’re more important than uni and I should be here for you when you’re feeling unwell.”

As sweet as that sentiment was, the way Dani avoided Fiona’s eyes when she said it seemed to suggest that there was more to it than she was letting on. Fiona wanted to argue the point further, but she was too tired to deal with anything right now. Giving in, she returned to bed with mumbled thanks, and fell asleep within five minutes. The last thing she heard were the sounds of Dani bustling in the kitchen.

***

When she woke up a few hours later, she was feeling a little better and her head was a little clearer. Dani was sitting across her on a beanbag, which Fiona had impulsively bought after spying it on sale. Dani was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, but as soon as she noticed that Fiona has woken up, she got up with a smile.

“Good evening, sleeping beauty. While you were asleep, I made us some dinner. It’s just pasta with tomato sauce, which I know is not the most conventional ‘get better’ kind of meal, but hey, you can only work with what you got.”

“It’s just as well I’m not with you for your incredible cooking skills,” Fiona croaked with a smile, her voice raspy with sleep and the cold.

“At least I didn’t light myself on fire the way you would’ve had, Ms Master Chef,” Dani said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, that was just one time! And it could have happened to anyone.”

“I seriously doubt that anyone but you turns on the stove using their feet.”

“It was an accident! I was just trying to grab a Sharpie lying ON the stove with my foot, and accidentally turned the ignition on.”

“As if that makes it any better?”

And bickering in this way, they went into the kitchen.

The food, as simple as it was, did actually make Fiona feel a lot better. And it was great to see Dani being so cheerful and energetic again, after what seemed like months of constant stress and moodiness. Nevertheless, even as they were joking around and laughing while discussing some ridiculous hypothetical situation (what if you were born with an extra pair of thumbs on your thumbs?), Fiona couldn’t help but to feel worry building up somewhere deep within her. Even though it was good to let off some steam like this, Dani’s sudden readiness to drop everything to take care of her made Fiona feel uneasy. Dani really should have been pouring all of her energy into studying right now.

She decided to delicately broach the subject.

“Besides making this culinary work of art, what else did you do while I was asleep?”

“Why, worried that all your priceless china has suddenly disappeared into thin air?” Dani teased.

“Nah, with you I’d be more worried about all of my Ribena mysteriously going missing.”

“Well, can’t make any promises on that front, mate. If you wanted your Ribena untouched, you should’ve hidden it better instead of just leaving it completely unprotected in the fridge. It’s basically your fault I drank it.”

“I’ll invest in a safe in the future,” Fiona joked lightly. “But seriously. What else did you do?”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the table. She fiddled with her glass, turning it round and round with one hand. “Oh, you know. I washed up the dishes. Cleaned up a bit. You really should stop leaving your dirty socks just lying around everywhere, it’s disgusting. I also read up a bit on how to best deal with the common cold. Apparently, green tea with honey is supposed to be really good.”

“Did you study at all for your exams?” Fiona said. She regretted asking that as soon as the words left her mouth. Dani’s body instantly tensed up.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t see why that should matter right now. It’s more important for me to see that you get better soon, right?” Dani’s voice was sharp, yet brittle. She still hasn’t looked up.

“I didn’t mean that as an attack,” Fiona said quickly. “And I appreciate you being here for me, I really do. It’s just that I’m worried, your exams start so soon, and I know that studying for them hasn’t been the easiest for you-”

“Well, I’m sorry for being so bad at it,” Dani said. Her shoulders hunched up even more. “I hope I haven’t offended you with my not trying hard enough and not meeting your fucking studying standards.”

“Dani, that is not what I meant,” Fiona said, beginning to panic. “I just-” Fiona’s voice cracked. She was being too loud, too shrill for her sick vocal cords. She went into a coughing fit which seemed to last for ages. When she finally looked up, tears streaming down her face, Dani was looking back at her, her face sombre and unhappy. She nodded her head towards the bedroom.

“You should be in bed right now. Go lie down and I’ll make you some tea.”

Fiona just nodded weakly and did as she was told. A few moments later, Dani walked in. She gently set down the steaming mug on Fiona’s bedside drawer and then slowly sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed.

After a moment, Fiona reached her hand towards Dani, who took it and gently squeezed it.

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted out suddenly. A second of startled silence and a quick exchange of glances. Fiona could feel her shoulders beginning to shake and soon they were both giggling like little girls, aware that nothing that funny really happened, but unable to stop.

As they both slowly calmed down, the change in the room was almost palpable. Even though the atmosphere was still awkward, some of the tension seemed to have left. Dani leaned back a little more and grasped Fiona’s hand a little more firmly.

“I’m the one at fault here,” Dani said. “You asked me a well-intentioned question, concerned for me even while not being well yourself, and instead of being thankful for having a girlfriend who gives a shit or two, I just got mad and yelled at you. And after all my talk about taking care of you, too.” Dani frowned. “I’m so sorry, Fi. I really don’t deserve you.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” Fiona said. “And I’m the one who should be apologising. I knew that this is a very stressful period for you, and even so, my first response to seeing you more relaxed than I have seen you in weeks was to start pressuring you to work more as soon as I got a chance. And that’s after you’ve come into this lair of disease and made me food. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Let’s just agree that we both could have handled things better,” Dani said, a small smile playing on her lips. Then she dropped her gaze down again. “And it wasn’t you pressuring me to study that set me off. If I can be completely honest...” Dani stopped and was silent for a while. Fiona said nothing, letting Dani express herself at her own speed and just gently squeezing her hand for encouragement. Finally, Dani said quietly, “I don’t think I want to study law any more.”

“You want to drop out?” Fiona asked, making sure to sound as supportive and non-judgmental as possible.

Dani just nodded her head once.

“You know that I’ll always stand by you and support you, whatever decision you’ll end up making.”

That made Dani turn round and look at Fiona. The smile on her lips, although still small and shy, managed to somehow lit up her entire face.

“Yes. I know.”

***

Later, after Dani has made Fiona more tea, gave her a back massage and helped her to take a shower (well, the type of “help” that Dani offered did not actually help Fiona at all with the cleaning process and, if anything, only ended up making her more sweaty, but it still managed to considerably brighten Fiona’s day), they were both lying in bed together rewatching Buffy for the n-tieth time. In spite of Fiona’s protests that she’d get sick too, Dani was cuddling up to her.

“You know,” Fiona said contemplatively after a while, “perhaps all along the real bug here has been the love bug we caught along the way.”

“God, you’re so lame,” Dani said, pressing her face to Fiona’s neck in an attempt to hide her smile.

[starboyreggie]

9 Months || K.A.

Word Count: 3454

Pairing: Kj x reader

Summary: Memories flash in your mind as you find out life changing news.

Warnings: pregnancy, sweet smut, anxiousness

Requested by anon:

“Could you maybe do an imagine with KJ Apa where you find out you’re pregnant and you don’t tell him right away bc you’re worried he’ll leave you but when you do tell him he’s overjoyed.”

“Hi! Could you do a KJ Apa imagine where the reader waits to tell him she’s pregnant bc she thinks he’ll leave her but when she does tell him he’s overjoyed?:)”

Masterlist

It was nerve racking 3 minutes. Sitting on the cold toilet lid with your arms bent on your knees supporting the weight of your head, which felt like the weight of the world, you waited. You could hear the thump of your heart beating in your ears even though your chest felt empty.

You lifted your head up, ran your fingers through your hair, and let a heavy sigh out from between your lips. Your eyes drifted to the white stick sitting on the bathroom counter then over to the clock on the wall. You focused on the second hand which seemed to be moving usually slow. A low hum mixed with the ticking of clock filled your ears.

You jumped in your skin when your phone buzzed against the marble counter and the radar sound interrupted the clock’s loud thumping. It had been 3 minutes. You reached for the loud machine and turned off the jarring sound, setting it back down. You brought your pointer finger between your teeth as you bit down on your nail nervously.

You stared at the test, unable to move. You wanted to know what the result would be, whether your life would ever be the same after today. But you physically couldn’t move, and memories of your life before this rainy September night flashed before your eyes.

You remember the first time you met him. You had just moved to Los Angeles in pursuit of your dream of being a writer for the entertainment industry whether that be movies, tv shows, or anything in between. You were going to UCLA on a full ride and they had offered a program that helps students find internships that went with their majors.

You had applied for the program, and they had given you many options of different great opportunities that would help you grow and learn. After careful consideration, you decided to take an internship with an up incoming CW show, Riverdale. There you would be working on and off set with everything from sitting in on writers’ meetings to the filming of scenes.

It was about a month into the internship, when they started to film the show. Before, you were sitting in on meetings, taking notes on how the writers interacted with each other, and getting breakfast for the writers. You were nervous for this new part in your internship, because before you were in a controlled setting with the same people every day, but now your schedule could change at any moment and you didn’t know how many people you would be getting coffee for now.

You pushed the nerves to the side, determined to get as much as you could from this internship. When you got on set, they told you to follow the scene with the script just in case one of the actors needed a line. You grabbed a pen and decided to take notes on how the script changed from either the actor’s improvising or the director’s instruction.

“We figured it was the serpents, angry for getting kicked off their land, but now that I know you’re a serpent, I’m thinking this is personal.” This was the first sentence you had ever said to him. After the day was wrapped, he had approached you and struck up a conversation. You had become friends on set soon becoming an off set relationship. After your internship ended, he had asked you out. That was 5 years ago. Since then you had fallen in love with the brown eyed boy.

You were brought out of your trance as you felt a drop on your knee. Blinking rapidly, you realized that somewhere from the time that the alarm went off and now that you had started crying. You weren’t sure what you were crying for because you still weren’t sure what you wanted the test to say.

Would it be the worst thing in the world if you were pregnant? You knew who the father would be, but how would he react? Would he be happy and ready to start a family at the age of 25 or would he be disgusted at the idea of being tied down at such a young age and leave you to raise the baby alone? You trusted Kj completely, but being a parent would be a drastic lifestyle change. You would have the life of another human being in your hands to take care of for 18 years.

The suspense was killing you. Grabbing the test hastily, you decided to just rip the band-aid off. When your eyes focused on the stick in your hands, it dropped to the floor and your hand flew up to your opened mouth. Tears fell down your cheek as you pulled your knees into your chest.

You closed your eyes and Kj appeared in the blackness. He was wearing a blue button up and black jeans. It was the night of your 1-year anniversary. You knew because that was the only time Kj had ever worn that shirt and the only reason he did was because he was taking you to a fancy restaurant in Hollywood.

He was in your small apartment’s only bedroom, and he was looking at you with love in his eyes. He came closer and placed his hands on your hips and looked you in your eyes with the biggest grin on his face.

“What are you so happy about, Mr. Apa?” You teased as you cupped his face in your hands.

“How could I not be happy when I’m the luckiest guy in the world and I have you to thank for that.” A glow was radiating off him as he spoke.

“Y’know, some people say I have that affect.” You giggled as you pulled him in for a slow, passionate kiss.

Kj’s hands started to roam as he deepened the kiss with his tongue passing between your lips. He squeezed your ass and you let out a laugh, braking the kiss. Kj, with his hands still around you, walked backwards until he fell on the bed, taking you with him.

Your laugh got louder as your body collapsed on top of his. You connected your lips again this time sloppier. You dragged your hands down to his lower waist where you pushed his shirt up while dragging your nails on his exposed skin. When you had left soft red marks along his torso, you pushed against him, bringing you up to straddle his waist.

“I don’t deserve you. You’re way out of my league. I mean, look at you. You’re so beautiful.” Kj murmured out.

“You had way too much to drink at dinner tonight.” You teased and lightly slapped his chest.

“I might have,” He laughed, “but I still think your beautiful and I don’t tell you that enough.” You were beginning to blush and went to cover your face with your hands, but he grabbed them before you could. “Don’t hide from me, babe” He giggled and brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed each one.

The gesture was so simple, but still made your heart swell.

“I love you.” The two of you had exchanged those words before, but tonight they felt different. It was like they had more meaning, more weight. It made you feel warm inside, because it actually sounded like he meant it.

You leaned down to once again connect your lips with his. It was a soft kiss, but you could feel the love behind it. You reached to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, breaking the kiss for a moment before Kj grabbed you by the back of your neck and softly pulled you back down.

You moved your hips slowly against his clothed crotch. By this time, your dress had rose to pool around your waist.

Kj let out a small grunt of pleasure when you pressed down onto his already semi hard cock. Kj suddenly flipped you to where you were on the bottom and he was hovering above you.

You had a confused look on your face, because Kj had always preferred when you were on top before. “I want tonight to be different, princess.” He whispered into your ears and shivers went down your spine.

Kj reached down and pulled your dress off you, and with one hand, undid your bra. He grabbed one of your boobs with his large, calloused hand and massaged it. He lightly twisted your nipple with his thumb and pointer finger. You let out a sigh of pleasure when he started to suck on the other nipple. His tongue swirled around the hard bud, lightly raking his teeth on the sensitive skin. He switched to the other boob, paying it as much attention as he did the other one, before releasing it with a pop.

His lips traveled down, leaving a wet trail behind them as he kissed down your body. He stopped at the bottom of your torso and started to suck softly. You could feel the pressure he was creating as he continued to suck harder, beginning to leave a mark. Once he had left a few marks, he started to make his way back up.

As he kissed every inch of your body, you couldn’t help but feel submissive to this man. He made you feel so safe and loved that you knew that he would never do anything to hurt you. It was this moment that you could see yourself with Kj for the rest of your life. You could see yourself making a family and buying a home with him, and you couldn’t say that about any of your other relationships.

With your vision slightly clouded, you brought your hand down to his belt buckle and fumbled with it before you finally got it undone. You pushed down his jeans and boxers with one swoop. You didn’t want to waste any time.

Kj brought his hand done to your cunt, and slowly dragged he sides down. He ghosted his hand in front of your center. You could feel the heat off his skin; he was so close and all you wanted was he touch.

He dragged a finger between your folds, giving you a stunned look. “You already so wet for me.” Kj grunted.

You innocently giggled before pulling his head down to kiss him again. You tried to express what you were feeling through the kiss by putting all your force into it. He lined up with your core, and slowly pushed in. You gasped into his kiss, and he laid his forehead on yours, taking in the details of your expression. Your eyes scrunched up along with your nose, and your mouth went agape.

Kj gave you a moment to adjust to his size while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He started to slowly thrust and held eye contact with you. This time felt different. You felt more connected with him not only physically but emotionally too. It felt as though you were one with each other and you knew Kj felt the same way by the look in his eyes.

Kj picked up the pace and you seethed in a deep breath. You pulled on his hair when he connected his thumb to your clit. He didn’t need to, because the mental feeling alone doubled the pleasure. A pressure had started to form in the pit of your stomach as Kj kept a steady pace.

You knew Kj was close when he started to harshly buck into you. He repeatedly pressed on a spot inside of you that made your back arch off the bed. “Fuck, Kj keep doing that.” You moaned loudly.

After a few more rough thrusts, you felt a wave of pleasure take control of you. Your toes curled and you dug your fingernails into his back. You clenched your walls around his cock which pushed him over the edge. He let a few profanities slip pass his lips and you felt him shudder on top of you. You also felt his cum shoot up into you, but you weren’t worried since you were on birth control.

You remembered the carefree feeling you had during that moment as you finally opened your eyes again, coming back to reality. You wished that you were back in that moment, making love for the first time not just having sex, instead of being alone in your bathroom crying.

You also missed the carefree feeling that birth control had. You had taken yourself off it when it started to do nothing for your periods, which was the reason for wanting to take it in the first place. You didn’t want to pay for something that didn’t do what you wanted it to do. You convinced yourself that you and Kj would be careful. But that obviously didn’t work. It was hard to remember after years of not having to worry about it. There were a couple of times where he had come in you, but you never worried about it, because you would always get your period.

You started to freak out when you were 2 weeks late, but you convinced yourself that your body was just changing, because this has happened before when you were younger. It was when you were 3 weeks that you started to worry, but you decided to wait until you were 4 weeks to take a pregnancy test.

You were hoping that it was negative, so you wouldn’t have to tell Kj anything. But now you had to. You stood up, shivering when your bare feet connected with the cold floor. It was too late to tell him tonight as the clock read 11:37pm, and to be honest, you were scared to tell him.

Yes, you had been in a committed relationship for 5 years, but you couldn’t predict how he would react. Would he be excited and engulf you into his arms, or would he have a look of disappointment and walk out? That’s what he usually did when he was upset with you - walk out. He said that he needed to walk away before he said something he would regret. Would he regret this?

It’s been 5 days since you found out that you were excepting Kj’s baby. You hadn’t brought yourself to tell him, because you didn’t know how. Should you make it a big deal and a large dinner for the two of you and tell him then, or should you leave the test out for him to find?

You pushed the thought out of your mind as you started to get ready. Kj’s best friend had just gotten engaged and was throwing a party to celebrate. Thankfully, you weren’t showing very much so you could still wear the dress that you had picked out before. It was a white dress with lace details that came to mid-thigh. You pared it with nude heals that you knew you would regret before the night ended.

Kj peaked his head into the doorway, “Don’t you look beautiful tonight, love.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you. You’re looking dapper tonight with that suit, Mr. Apa,” You marveled looking him over.

Kj walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at the two of you in the mirror and gave you a soft kiss on your temple, “Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

“What do you mean?” You asked scrunching your eyebrows together.

“I don’t know. I’m 25 and what have I done with my life? I’m not talking about career wise, because I right where I want to be, but like personally.” He rambled, talking more to himself than to you.

“Let’s see. You have an amazing girlfriend, a gorgeous house, and a golden retriever who loves you. What else can you ask for?” You joked, grinning at him as he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

He spun you around in his arms, “I guess you’re right. You’re all I need to be happy.”

You reached up and connected your lips to his for a sweet kiss. “Now go, so I can get ready. We don’t want to be late.” Kj nodded and pecked your lips one more time before hesitantly leaving you to finish getting ready.

It took you another 20 minutes until you were ready to leave and another 15 minutes to get to his best friend’s house. You pulled up to the large house that had a string of cars lining the driveway and connecting street. When you walked up to the door, you found that it was open and you both walked in.

“Aye, Kj! What’s up, my man!” Charles screamed from the other side of the room as he made his way over to the two of you.

“Nothing compared to you,” Kj laughed and you couldn’t help but smile too, “Congrats, I’m really happy for you and Lili.”

“Thanks, bro. I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with this girl, but especially for the honeymoon if you know what I mean.” Charles joked and elbowed Kj’s side in a playful manner.

They continued to talk and you looked around. The whole cast of Riverdale showed up, not to your surprise. They had all become so successful after the show ended. Cole had become a renowned photographer, Camilla had become a New York Times’s bestselling author, and Madelaine had been booking major roles in several big box office movies.

You were broken out of your trance with Kj’s hand lightly grabbed your elbow. “Do you want a drink?” He asked after Charles had left.

“A water would be great. It’s kind of hot in here,” You confessed as you started to fan yourself with your hand.

“C’mon, just one drink. Let loose, you’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve one drink,” Kj whined as he grabbed both of your hands and started to lightly swing them.

“I don’t want to drink tonight. I mean, someone has to drive us home when you get shit faced.” You smirked lightly already knowing that he was going to drink way too much tonight.

“We can call an un uber! Charles wouldn’t mind us leaving our car here for a night,” Kj pushed. You obviously knew you couldn’t drink due to the life growing in your belly, but Kj had no idea.

“Kj, I just can’t.” You stated seriously, giving him a look to try and get him to back off.

He started to chuckle, clearly not understanding the look in your eye, “What are you? Pregnant?” He obviously said this as a joke as he was laughing until he finally looked in your eyes.

You didn’t respond and looked in his eyes and raised your eyebrows before looking off. “Wait, what was that look?” Kj suddenly got serious as he brought his hand to your jaw and moved your face to look at him.

“I can’t drink because,” you paused because you feared his reaction. Every possible outcome played in your mind before you gulped a large lump in your throat and blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

Kj had no emotion on his face and you couldn’t read his expression. You suddenly went cold and you could feel all the blood rush from your face. Your eyes roamed over his features, looking for any sign of emotion, but there was none.

“You’re pre-pregnant?” He stuttered with his mouth open slightly.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t know how to and I was worried that you would be upset or angry or unhappy. If you don’t want to be a father right now, I completely understand, we can work something out. I hope that you stay—” You rushed out in one breath.

You were interrupted with Kj yelling, “She’s pregnant! I’m a father!” Everyone looked at you and started clapping. Kj wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up, lightly spinning you around. He brought his lips to yours and kissed you softly. You could feel the love and happiness he was feeling through this kiss.

Kj set you back down and laid his forehead on yours, “I’m a father,” he whispered.

“You’ve got 9 months, Mr. Apa” You chuckled, tears springing in your eyes. His reaction went beyond your expectations. This might have not been the way you wanted to tell Kj, but you wouldn’t change anything about it.

“You’re finally going to be daddy!” Lili yelled from across the room. Everyone erupted with laughter, and Kj fist bumped in the air, a look of accomplishment on his face before he started laughing too.

a/n: Hey guys! This is my longest piece ever so excuse any typos! Tell me what you think in my inbox, I love hearing from y’all! I’m really proud of how long it is, I’ve been trying to make my imagines longer so this is a real accomplishment!

[jenroses]

OK so I saw your post on school accommodations for disabilities and you mentioned abnormal adrenaline response as a symptom of EDS, which I recently found out I have (& let me tell you that explain SO MUCH) but I haven't heard anything before about that specific symptom. Could you maybe give me a short explanation, or point me in the direction of somewhere I can read up on it? bc if it is what i think it is it will explain so much about what i thought were aspects of my learning disabilities.

So, EDS is associated with a lot of dysautomnia (poor regulation of systems that are supposed to be self-regulating... “autonomic”) and there’s a fair amount of information about how abnormal adrenaline response will cause a lot of sleep issues. Basically if I get my second wind, there’s no way I’m sleeping again for hours. But that same dysautomnia and adrenaline response explain “pseudo-psychiatric” symptoms that are indistinguishable, clinically, from anxiety, bipolar, etc... but with very different causes. Basically it means treatment needs to address the adrenaline response and dysautomnia rather than being aimed only at neurotransmitters, to be really effective. (both may be necessary?) Add to that that we often react weirdly to psych drugs and yeah, it’s complicated. As for learning disabilities, things like dysgraphia can have neurological bases, or maybe, just maybe, it’s hard to hold and control a pen when your knuckles aren’t stable. Are we autistic, or do we really just have a lot more nerves that don’t get turned off, or does that distinction matter? IDK. My skin really is that sensitive, my hearing is acute, my vision varies but light sensitivity can stem from many sources, and resorting to stims/sensory friendly clothing/etc. is helpful. So is it a panic attack, or is it an abnormal adrenaline response disproportionate to the stimulus due to dysautomnia? It mostly matters from a treatment perspective, panic attacks aren’t invalid if they don’t have a physiological basis, and from a practical standpoint it doesn’t matter if you’re having palpitations because of a psychiatric issue or a physiological dysfunction--you’re still going to need to find strategies for working your way out of that kind of attack, and it’s still happening, regardless the cause. A quick google of “EDS adrenaline anxiety” should turn up a fair amount to read. Also read on POTS, dysautomnia...https://www.facebook.com/AlisasZazzleShop/posts/478067525595791has an excerpt from one of the doctors at the forefront of this. 

The body’s tendency to overreact to stresses by making too much adrenaline can lead others to think that hypermobile people are “too sensitive,” “irritable,” or “anxious.” Patients themselves may notice this, saying, “I’ve always overreacted to little things. I can’t help it.” It is very important to recognize two things about this phenomenon. First, it is a physical reaction, so that counseling usually will not be effective in treating this type of anxiety. Similarly, adrenaline highs and lows may be mistaken for the mood fluctuations of bipolar disorder, but mood-stabilizing medications usually are not indicated. When medication is required, beta blockers, which block adrenaline, may be as effective with fewer side effects than SSRI’s like Prozac and Lexapro or benzodiazepines like Xanax and Valium. Second, while a feeling of anxiety can be produced by emotional stress, it is just as likely that such symptoms have a physical cause, most often fatigue, pain, or dehydration, and less commonly by a drop in blood sugar or blood pressure. Not surprisingly, researchers have found that anxiety and panic disorder are more common in hypermobile people.

[arthurhwalker]

Premium 2-in-1 Comparison

It’s finally happening. The world is getting 13-14 inch 2-in-1 convertibles, with premium graphics and display options. It’s kind of a big deal, considering the last one worth mentioning came out over three years ago. The Dell XPS 13 7390, HP Spectre x360 13t Touch, and Lenovo Yoga C940 14” are the three worthiest contenders I’ve seen.

Which one is best? Well, that depends.

Dell XPS 13 2-in-1, via Dell.com

Base Specifications

All three top out with a 10th Generation Intel Core i7-1065G7 processor, with Intel Iris Plus Graphics, 802.11AX (2 x 2) WiFi 6, Bluetooth 5.0, Windows Home or Pro, Microsoft precision trackpads, biometrics via fingerprint reader.

Dell’s model can have up to 32 GB 3733MHz Memory Onboard, while Lenovo and HP can have 16GB.

HP’s model can have up to 2 TB PCIe NVMe M.2 SSD, Lenovo and Dell advertise that they ship with 1 TB maximum, but Lenovo’s will also ship with 2 TB if you order a custom rig.

Lenovo’s model comes with a garaged stylus, as opposed to an optional full size stylus (Dell), or a full sized MPP stylus in the box (HP). Personally, I like a garaged stylus for two reasons. You always have a stylus with you, and (from my experience) the manufacturer tends to tune the pen input on the device when a stylus is part of the chassis.

Lenovo and HP have 60 Wh batteries, while Dell has a 51 Wh battery. All three boast some sort of rapid charge technology. Paired with their best display options, the Lenovo probably has the best battery life, sans adjustments for hardware tweaks and power management firmware.

HP’s model comes with LTE as an option, but there’s an issue with that I’ll talk about later.

IO & Ports

Dell’s model: 2x Thunderbolt 3 with power delivery and DisplayPort (4 lanes of PCI Express Gen 3), 3.5mm headphone/microphone combo jack, microSD card reader

HP’s model: 1 headphone/microphone combo, 1 USB 3.1 Gen 1 Type-A (HP Sleep and Charge), 2 USB 3.1 Gen 2 Type-C™ with Thunderbolt™ 3 (40 Gb/s signaling rate, Power Delivery 3.0, DisplayPort 1.4, HP Sleep and Charge), microSD card reader

Lenovo’s Model: Two USB 3.1 Type-C Gen 2 / Thunderbolt 3 (with function of Power Delivery, DisplayPort), one USB 3.1 Type-A Gen 2, 3.5mm (0.14inch)stereo audio / microphone combo jack

It kind of depends on what you need. Dell has Gen 3, Thunderbolt 3 ports, but that’s basically it, other than the microSD card reader. HP has the most IO, but the placement on the device is weird, with one port even coming off diagonally from a corner. Lenovo has all the IO, neat and tidy on the left side, but lacks a microSD card slot.

HP Spectre x360 13t Touch, via HP.com

Display Specs

Dell’s model has a 13.4-inch UHD+ (3840 x 2400), 16:10 ratio, WLED, Touch Display, HDR 400 Certified, 90% DCI P3 Color Gamut, 500 nits, 1500:1 contrast ratio, with a 0.65% anti-reflective coating.

HP’s model has a 13.3" diagonal 4K UWVA BrightView micro-edge AMOLED multitouch (3840 x 2160). Being AMOLED, I’m sure the color range and contrast ratio are amazing, but I can’t find the exact specifications.

Lenovo’s model has 14.0" (356mm) UHD (3840x2160), glossy display, LED backlight, IPS, HDR 400, 500 nits, 16:9 aspect ratio, 90% DCI-P3, DolbyVision.

I think HP would probably win this category, except that you can’t have the OLED and LTE in the same custom ordered rig. For whatever reason, you have to choose between those two features. LTE in a 2 in 1 would be epic, but not at the expense of a premium display option. Dell might have the best screen display option here, but I don’t know that the average person would be able to tell the difference between it and that of Lenovo’s model, they’re so close.

Aesthetics

Dell’s XPS 13 comes in Platinum Silver exterior, with either a black interior deck, or arctic white interior.

HP ships with Natural Silver, Nightfall Black, or Poseidon Blue.

Lenovo has an Iron Grey or Mica color.

The Dell has an unfinished look with blocky 360 degree hinges that look like they are from 2013. It just doesn’t feel or look that nice held in the hand. Normally I like white accents on laptops, but it somehow looks cheap on the Dell.

That said, bezels are tight, and I bet the design handles heat thrown by the rig relatively well. It might be that a skin or decal could greatly improve the look of Dell’s XPS 13.

The HP is a love it, or hate it, kind of look. It’s quirky “gem cut” aesthetic with high contrast between flat color and polished metals is going to appeal to you, or not. The branding on the laptop isn’t subtle, but it’s decent looking. They are nice, but definitely an acquired taste.

HP’s 2-in-1 looks very small, like they went all out to make it compact. That might be a bonus for some folks, or a pain if you like have a palm rest to type, bezels to lean on while you draw, and similar.

Lenovo’s C940 is one of the best looking laptops out there. The combined asymmetry between the top and bottom chassis, soft lines of the sound bar hinge, and understated branding is easy on the eyes. The Mica color is gorgeous, pictures on the website not remotely doing it justice.

Lenovo Yoga C940 14”, via Lenovo.com

Likely, by the dimensions, this will be the most comfortable to hold, use, and draw on. Lenovo didn’t try to make a 13.5″ laptop out of what should be a 14″ form factor. I like having somewhere for my palm, or the side of my hand to rest as I type or draw.

Even so, the Yoga C940 is much reduced from the size of my Thinkpad P40 Yoga I’d held up for comparison.

Sound / Audio

All three models probably have pretty comparable sound, each with their own marketing babble.

Dell’s 2-in-1 has Stereo speakers with Waves MaxxAudio Pro.

HP’s model has Bang & Olufsen, dual speakers, with HP Audio Boost.

Lenovo’s C940 has HD Audio, four speakers with Dolby Atmos certification.

Audio quality is a pretty subjective thing, but based on specifications, design, and placement, the Lenovo C940 is likely to have the best sound, in either laptop or tablet modes because speakers are built into a rotating soundbar hinge, coupled with dual front firing on the bottom of the chassis. The Dell is likely a close second, having 2 W x 2 for 4W total. Speaker placement is down, but along the sides.

Pen Stylus Technology

The Dell doesn’t come with a stylus, but is offered with an optional Dell Premium Active Pen with 4096 levels of pressure sensitivity, tilt functionality, and attaches magnetically to your device. This pen is advertised as being UPP working on either Wacom AES 1.0 and 2.0 or T-Trig MPP 1.51 devices. According to Windows Central, it has 240hz reporting rate. Pretty nice, but it is $100, and takes a AAAA battery.  

HP’s Spectre x360 comes with an N-Trig Microsoft Pen Protocol non-tilt stylus in the box. For taking notes this is probably great, and will likely have good palm rejection. For digital artwork, look elsewhere.

Lenovo comes with a smaller garaged Lenovo Active Pen. Lenovo makes a Wacom AES 2.0 Lenovo Pen Pro, with tilt functionality that you can order separately, for $60 retail, and it is often on sale. It has an internal battery that can be charged with a USB-c cable. Nice!

Having a garaged stylus pen, and the option for a USB-c chargeable pen is pretty compelling if you rely on having a pen stylus, ready to go, at all times. For my use case, Lenovo wins this category, both for features, and value for the money. Still, that universal pen protocol stylus by Dell sounds interesting. What worries me is that pen input seems like an afterthought for the Dell, and Lenovo’s C940 comes with really nice custom pen drivers and software.

Accessories

Dell’s XPS 13 has a “premium” sleeve (it looks okay), pen stylus, and USB-c mobile adapter option right on the product page, all discounted if you bundle them in with your device. You can’t look at them from the product page, finding them once you’re already in configuring your order. With the discounts, the accessories are reasonably priced.

HP lets you bundle theft protection, an external DVD burner, tilt pen, and a plethora of dongles and adapters. Not sure what HP’s strategy is here.

Lenovo has a variety of software and accessories you can bundle with the Yoga C940, including a sweet premium sleeve for the Yoga line of 13 and 14 inch laptops. However, Lenovo makes you hunt through their website for the USB-c chargeable Lenovo Pen Pro, unless you add it from the product page from the top accessories tab.

It shouldn’t be difficult to accessories a premium laptop in the $2000 USD range. The website should have a streamlined process for marketing these things, and letting you select them during the configuration process. Dell comes the closest to doing this on the back end of setting up your order, Lenovo up front on the product page, and HP not really at all.

Price and Value

Dell’s XPS 13, maxed out, with Arctic White color (costs extra), (32 GB ram, 1 TB storage), dropped into my shopping cart at $2759.99 retail. 4 years or Premium Support Plus, is $560 (but sometimes discounted to the price of 3 years at $430). Accidental Damage Service for four years is $129 (currently discounted from $159). Extended Battery service, for years 2 and 3 of System Life, 2 years, is $89.

HP’s x360 Spectre, maxed out, Poseidon Blue (costs extra) (16 GB ram, 2 TB storage), with AMOLED display, no LTE, Tilt Pen Upgrade (as opposed to included non-tilt pen), costs $2009.99. 3 years of HP Warranty with Accidental Damage protection is $187.99 (as of writing this, discounted from $229.99).

Lenovo’s C940, maxed out (16 GB ram, 2 TB storage), Mica or Iron Grey, costs $2119.99 retail (but Lenovo always has sales). 4 Years of premium onsite warranty, with accidental damage protection, costs $268 additional monies.

Obviously, the winner here depends on your specific use case. The Dell seems really expensive, regardless, but if you absolutely need 32 GB ram, you will pay for the privilege. The Dell also has a smaller battery, making it less useful for on the go use. HP’s model has the better display tech, and amount of IO, for the money, but if you are a digital artist, this is pretty much a not an option with the pen stylus technology they use.

For digital artists, that do not need 32 GB of RAM, the Lenovo C940 is probably the best bang for your buck. It’s hundreds less, has a garaged stylus, more affordable service options, and sports a bigger battery.

Conclusion

For some 3D rendering, the Dell might make sense, but for any render that required 32 GB of RAM, even the top end processor for the XPS 13 will probably take all night and day to complete. For emulation, generally, 16 GB is plenty, but I’m sure some folks would argue otherwise. Dell Service better be premium, white gloves on for that price!

For taking notes, photo editing, and content consumption, the HP is probably the way to go, because the AMOLED display, with some decent headphones, will be awesome for that. HP has this priced to sell, and their warranty service and options are affordable. The substandard pen stylus input severely limits the more commercial and creative use cases, though.  

For digital art, and design, the Lenovo C940 is going to be the way to go. The soundbar hinge makes this a nice device for content consumption, or playback of music at your D&D table. Obviously, that appeals to me. ;-D I think overall value, bang for buck, warranty and service options included, Lenovo probably wins. This is extra true if you wait for Lenovo to double up a coupon with a sale.

[sonreiv]

Digital anon again, in ur experience what tablet works best?? Do u ever have problems with the whole connecting tablet to computer process, any warnings and advice for starting digital?? And (sorry for all the questions) what do u use to draw digital ??

Hey nony! I got a bit lenghty so I’m going under the cut.

 I’ve only ever owned two tablets so I can’t say I know a lot-- I’ve had a Genius MousePen i608X which is fairly cheaper than a Wacom, but unnecessarily large with a tiny work space and the pen was battery powered and super fragile, so if you’re a clumsy idiot like me who drops his things on a whim, it doesn’t last. And I think they don’t even make Genius tablet anymore, so if you were to buy one it had to be via a third party site. But it’s cheap and the driver works fine, same pressure sensitivity as an intuos.

My current one is a Intuos pen small CTL480L by Wacom. It’s small but just enough for me. The cable is tiny on purpose so they make you buy the wireless kit, but I just bought an USB extensor. It comes with 3 extra nibs in a hidden compartment that no one tells you that exists, and the nib packs are ridiculously expensive and might not even ship to your country (they don’t ship to mine) but fret not, there’s tutorials online that teach you how to make DYI nibs with trimmer line and it’s super cheap and easy. The driver will sometimes randomly fail and not read the pressure (usually when you had the tablet connected for a while without using it) and you have to restart them via Services (if on windows) which is a bit annoying but it’s quick to solve. Wacom is the go-to for most artists sssso from experience and from what I always hear I’d recommend that but!

I came across this post about a tablet that’s fairly cheaper and pontentially superior than a wacom’s so it’s worht to take a look! The cheapness factor depends on where you live though bc the shipping turned out to be more expensive than a wacom tablet itself.

Now whichever you decide in the end, from my experience you probs don’t absolutely need a big ass active area and 2k pressure levels. If you get one that has that, neat!! But it’s less about the tool and more about what you do with it. I’ve never tried a more expensive tablet but I’m doing fine with the one I got now which is the simplest tier in wacom.

About the installing process, it’s chill. The same process as installing any programs in your computer. I’ve heard from other people with Genius tablets that the driver simply won’t work, but with Wacom you should be safe. The driver derps sometimes like mentioned before, but you just have to go to Services and reboot it, takes a few seconds. Once the driver is properly installed in your computer, you just plug in the tablet via USB and it starts automatically, get to drawing.

I use Paint Tool SAI for making art. It’s a paid program, but my cheap teen ass pirated it a few years ago orz others also commonly Photoshop, Manga Studio and Fire Alpaca (which is a free one). I’m set on SAI cause it’s simple enough and made specifically for making digital art. I use Manga Studio when I want to do effects like patterned backgrounds.

About tips on starting digital... Mann it’s an entire new world, I could sit and go on and on! I’ve been drawing digitally since 2014 and there’s still things I don’t know. The most basic advices I can give are (most of these applied to a SAI user):

Set your canvas to be 4000x4000px large and with a 300 ppi resolution. You don’t have to use the entire space, and you should size it down before uploading, but a larger canvas has better quality and minor mistakes are less visible.

When filling in base colors, use the magic wand to select an entire area and the select/deselect brushes to trim your selection. Saves you a lot of trouble. (ps works better if you’re doing a clean, “closed” lineart)

Try different brush settings! Sometimes what isn’t working is the kind of brush you’re using. Play around, look up what setting the artist you like use and you might find a brush that makes you comfortable when drawing (took me 12 years to realize the brush I used to sketch was making it harder for me).

SAVE. ALL. THE TIME. Set one of your express keys to be a saving button and soon enough it’ll become an almost unconscious habit.

Set a bunch of hotkeys to make your life easier! I don’t use them enough tbh, but it’s good to have some for flipping and rotating the canvas (I use tab to flip the canvas and Q+W to rotate counter-clockwise and clockwise). Always flip the canvas during the sketching process because when flipped you can notice mistakes more easily!

Try to avoid using black and white to shade and highlight your art. I mean, when choosing a darker/lighter shade for shadows/highlights, try moving the mouse sideways and changing the color a bit, rather than just choosing the same color but closer to white/black.

SAVE A FUCK TON OF TUTORIALS, EVEN IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO USE THEM NOW, SAVE THEM SOMEWHERE AND LOOK AT THEM AND EXPERIMENT! There’s SO many things you can learn and you can only grow with digital art by experimenting. I struggle a lot actually to step out of my comfort zone and try new stuff which leads to my art style evolving faster than my digital process orz but I’m trying!!

It WILL feel awkward and you WILL feel like it doesn’t look good enough, and that is normal. You move to a whole new medium and it’s like you’re learning how to art all over again. You have expectations on how your art will look like, and you’ll be a bit upset because it doesn’t look how you wanted to yet. It’s normal. Might take months, maybe even a couple years for you to find yourself and what works for you digitally, but it’s because only YOU know what your expectations are, to everyone else it’ll be an awesome process of improvement. Look up a bunch of tutorials, watch speedpaints and see how people do their thing, try different brushes. 

If you have any questions, feel free to ask again or DM me directly! I still have a lot to learn and experiment but I can share what I know! Hope this helped a little!

[cr3v]

Thanks for tagging me, Alyx! (@lacklusterlexicon​)

1. If you could bring back one outmoded media format (audio/video cassettes, 8-tracks, cabinet-sized record players, floppy discs, etc.), what would it be and why?

Cassettes! I “took” my dad’s Sony walkman and his cassettes sometime in 1994? Grew up listening to Boney M and his favorite stuff.

2. Office supplies or crafting supplies?

Office Supplies. I have so many notebooks, G1 and G2 pens (black and blue cos I’m boring).

3. Incense, candles, or air freshening spray?

Sensitive to most smells. The only thing I can handle as perfume’s Hugo - Boss Woman. Though I love lots of Mens’ colognes that are “marine”-y. Not brave enough to wear them. Though I have this friend who smells amazing but I’m too shy to ask him what he wears 😂

4. If you could change your zodiac sign, what would you change it to and why?

Aries and not particularly! If we’re talking MBTI - would change ENFP to ESTJ.

5. If you could do absolutely anything without worrying about finances, social pressure, or personal limitations, what would it be?

Do something in climate adaptation. Possibly volunteer with the MSF at some point after I have enough experience (not a doctor but I do have friends working on other stuff there). Build prosthetics (that’s one of the reasons why I got into engineering around 10 years ago).

6. Honesty hour: have you ever sent a friend a anonymous message because you were too afraid to ask/say it directly?

Hah! Yep! That’s how we met!

7. You get to switch lives with a fictional character for a week. With whom do you switch, and how do THEY handle YOUR life?

Would switch with John from Almost Human. Don’t think you need much to handle the NEET life D;. If they were to do the work I do, you just need some IT and project management experience

8. Zoos or aquariums?

Aquariums! Love how cozy and blue they are.

9. If you could magically learn to cook any national cuisine, which would you choose?

Chinese! But since the country is HUGE and its diaspora immense, spanning continents and centuries with thousands of delicious dishes and ways to cook them - Probably just Chongqing Chicken. (I screwed up scrambled eggs yesterday so... this is daunting 😂).

10. The fashionable beauty-conscious one, the shy brainy one, the mysterious snarky one, the out-spoken athletic one, or the naive golden-hearted one: which one are you, and who among your friends are the other four? (Hint: use the Sailor Senshi if that’s easier ;D)

I’d say naive and gold-hearted but I’m mostly just naiive 😂. I’ve not watched Sailor Moon as an adult even when I was totally into anime (kinda dropped all my shows in 2014). Somewhere between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral. The closest character I can think of is Izzy Stevens from Greys Anatomy. Most of my friends are serious, snarky and brainy folks (almost all of them are manager types at banks or tech companies).

11. Where do YOU stand on the proper cupcake-to-icing ratio discourse??

Top covered in cream - inside hollowed out and filled with chocolate ganache! (i’ve not had a cupcake in ages - just an eclair a week ago).

i... can’t really think of any questions rn!

[kitreadsbirdmen]

Body Language

Eishi and Rei have a conversation about the little things.

Link: AO3

Umino is a sight to behold.

Eishi let’s his eyes linger a little too long, knowing just how the female birdman’s flying style spikes his blood pressure. In his current transformed state, he is definitely primed to leak his thoughts. Phrases at risk include: “Damn her wing mass leaves little to the imagination” and “Does she need to move her hips in that aerial spin?” She stands a criminal to his propriety and it doesn’t help that the gentle flutter of her eyes in his memory places that physical infatuation on firmer ground, especially when she is literally far from landing herself.

As if to answer him, she performs a backwards loop, twisting her body at the arcing crest after an almost poetic extension of her arm. Her wings clasp tightly to her form as she dives.

“Nice!” Kamoda swoops out of her fly space below her. He waits for the girl to halt her descent with a smooth unfurling before falling to meet her momentum driven rise.

“You make that look so easy!” The green birdman’s flying gait is most distinct when he’s hovering. Labored downbeat strokes with a hungry grab for air. Then, in an exchange Eishi could only label as ‘casual’-- Kamoda inches into her fly space and brushes the tips of his wings against Umino’s with a simply placed downward stroke. The girl returns the gesture all while chatting about her flying technique.

Eishi allows himself to fixate on the wing brushing. He clicks his ballpoint pen, grateful for his perch on the cliffside, permitting a steady hand for notes. Observation is his game, but it’s only recently that a stray comment from Sagisawa inspired a different, social angle to his approach. That and the string of Awakenings in the group brings the topic of instincts to the forefront. How are they different? What does it mean? Touching wings… sharing thoughts… was that intimate?...Kamoda does possess affections for her… and she really looks good flying…really really good.

“Relax. It’s innocent.” The voice beside him is bemused. Eishi whips his head to face the knowing look of Sagisawa, arms crossed and half a mind on the scene before them.

“I didn’t say anything!” He defends in a muted shrill. The others have the crashing waves and howling winds to drown him out. The quick motion shuffles the radiating heat from his cheeks into focus.

“No but you were thinking it.” Eishi swallows, cold and thick with the paranoia.

“M-my thoughts...leak?” He stumbles through a gripping anxiety that spins his processors. He has been ogling Umino for the past ten minutes.

Sagisawa only laughs at his sudden fear. He takes the opportunity to sit himself next to the smaller bird. Half perched, half attempting to sit cross-legged, Sagisawa curls his talons into his foundation before continuing.

“Don’t worry. I’m good at noticing these things…” He gives a sly tap of his temple, the red of his eyes practically glowing. Eishi relaxes in response, only having to cover up the wounds of his pride than heal them completely.

“But yeah,” Sagisawa continues. “that wing tap was just affectionate. I don't even think Kamoda knows he was doing it.”

“Seems familiar to me.” Eishi grumbles on his defeat. Above their perch he notices that Takayama has joined the duo and is demonstrating some kind of trajectory shifting technique. He throws himself skyward with an impossibly strong wingbeat before letting his momentum stop his flight on a dime. The sire birdman then does an incredible 90 degree pivot. Sagisawa hums in amusement.

“I feel, there’s going to be a tendency to place our interactions against normal human standards.”

“What do you mean?” He understands the claim, he just wants Sagisawa’s insight. The fair-haired birdman rocks back onto the heels of his palms, contemplative.

“I guess it’s like going to a different culture and trying to figure out the differences in values and customs... I have a family acquaintance in France who greets people with a kiss, but there are couples here who haven’t so much as pecked each other on the lips. Different cultures, different customs. We--” he makes an unnecessary gesture to the five bird kids hanging by a deserted cliffside-- “are an entirely new species, so we’re bound to bring with us our own set of customs.” Spoken like a true cultural migrant. Sensitive to the values of subcultures.

Kamoda’s attempted 90 degree turn morphs into upside down flying in the background. The wires got crossed somewhere in the learning process.

“We all still have a human upbringing, that does inform our judgement.” Eishi narrows his eyes. Umino joins Kamoda’s flying style several meters above them. She’s the image of relaxed. “Nature versus nurture, right?” The professor dropped that term a lot. He had a feeling Sagisawa was more attuned to its definition.

“True...” Sagisawa says this softly, as though unsure his words have any substance. The subtext is there. Sure they were raised human, but how much of that will matter with a pair of wings that bordered on sentient? Eishi never picks the brain of anyone other than Takayama so he never knows how strong they feel it. The phantom yearn and the prickling ache. Takayama also once mentioned the wing’s ‘memory’. Personified and active. It’s a daunting prospect,--for how do you fight something within you that possesses an agenda? Anything was possible.

Eishi takes a moment to swallow back a sudden onset of stomach dropping anxiety. He revisits Professor Tatsume’s words.

‘You can beat down even fate.’

Eishi huffs a laugh out of the blue. Sagisawa cocks his head.

“And I thought puberty was the worst of it...” His companion cracks a smile at that, a little surprised, but ever encouraging.

“Making a new culture sounds like a tall order White.” Eishi emphasizes the codename like a joke, pivoting the conversation with a musing lean onto his hands. He mindlessly shifts his wings out of the way. “What does that entail?”

Sagisawa hums. “Well, I say we just sit back and watch… a little compare and contrast here and there… but it should just... happen.” He makes an explosion gesture with a flash of his claws to emphasize the final word.

“And what are we looking for with our great powers of perception?” Eishi feels the facetious approach entice a more natural rhythm from the Trickster. He in turn catches the tone with a knowing smirk.

“An easy feature to distinguish in culture is communication. Language, lingo, delivery.” He rattles. Kamoda and Takayama meanwhile are climbing in altitude for some reason.

“We got that down. Tweeting’s pretty bird-kid exclusive… though I wouldn’t call it a language by definition. We’re still thinking in Japanese...”

“Who knows? There’s no telling if it surpasses the language barrier.”

Eishi raises a brow at that. “Sounds like a future experiment.”

“I’ll be happy to oblige.” The resident bilingual mocks a subservient honor. “But spoken-- er... telepathic - communication isn’t the only thing to look out for. Body language is key.”

Ah, full circle.

“I’m ‘guessing’ these wings aren’t just for fancy flying.” The conversation is indulgent, the process of pointing out the unspoken is now an exercise in verbalization. Talking about it makes it more real, if they are conscious of the differences they might be able to notice when it slips away. Eishi is assuming the role of an engaged student. Just above them the green and red birdmen appear from the line of clouds plummeting at insane speeds, helmets up-- a race it seems.

“I don't know about you, but they seem to move in conjunction with everyone’s emotions.”

“Well, not all of us are hypersensitive empaths…”

Takayama wins the race, reaching Umino’s mark with a wingspans length of lead. There’s a sneering joke about aerodynamics and baldness running through Eishi’s mind as he finishes his quip to Sagisawa. There’s an exasperated sigh in response.

“That’s not-- Listen, Umino’s an open book. You’ve noticed the little fluttering thing she does.”

“Fluttering thing?” She always seems to bat her eyelashes in a manner he’d describe that way, but he just assumes it’s his… enamored perspective. He finds himself watching the female birdman climb the sky, presumably to have her race with Takayama. She has a distinct wing gait, opting for less work and more ease with a slow rising corkscrew ascension, catching updrafts with cupped wings and stabilizing with a precise circling slice. Takayama meanwhile is flying up at Umino’s pace. They’re circling in a sort of dance. He always seems to coddle her...

“Yeah, when she’s really excited about something she kind of…” Sagisawa leans forward to uncurl his wings from the ground. Then for a second Eishi believes the Trickster’s been shocked by electricity because he spasms a jump, moving his folded wings in shallow flaps. “-- over and over again... It’s like a tail-wag on a dog. She does it without fail anytime Takayama so much as breathes.”

That snaps Eishi’s attention far too quickly.

“And then there’s you…” Sagisawa is suppressing an arrogant and knowing smile. He crosses his arms while he tilts his head in a judgmental once-over. “You like looking big.” 

“...Big?”

“Oh yeah. Wings never completely folded, hovering slightly over your shoulders.” He demonstrates his description expanding his silhouette into a positively looming image.

Eishi self consciously snaps his wings tight to his body.

There’s a laugh. “It’s all about the body language. Silent, but sure.” Now he just sounds like some elaborate proverb. In the distance Umino and Takayama are racing, a mere second from the flapping Kamoda finish line.

“So it doesn’t even matter if I’m leaking my thoughts through a tweet… my wings are going to tell the world.”

“Essentially.”

“Nothing’s personal anymore…”

“Hey hey, there you go judging the birdman by the human standard. Who’s to say we’re built for secrets?” Sensing a lull in the conversation, Sagisawa rolls forward to his knees.

Kamoda is rushing Umino in excitement. Takayama lets her win. He does a sweeping dance with a strong air current. Behind their conversation lies the phantom trails of a commercial airliner.

Eishi hums. Short and low. “I do.”

Sagisawa doesn’t respond as he rises to his feet. He simply extends a hand to Eishi. The Bellwether’s mouth is a small line as he considers taking it. The memory of Takayama’s touchy ability hovers in his mind and he wonders from where his caution should lie. The standing birdman meanwhile assumes his own expressive posture; wings dropped low and submissive like a dragging cape. It’s sympathetic and exhibits no challenge to Eishi’s wounded identity. Eishi briefly superimposes the more default wing-folded posture on Sagisawa and feels a subtle twist of discomfort in the wake of his imagination, as though offended. While subconscious in nature, the instinctual pull toward silent expressions are irresistible.

He takes his hand and finds his hard expression soften in a weak musing as he pulls himself to his feet. It manifests as sigh, a smile hidden on the outskirts. Sagisawa perks. “Hm?”

“We’re like a pack of test-y wolves.” Eishi replies. There’s humor on his lips. “It’s so animal… and kind of surreal to notice.”

“The perks of a mid-life species change.” Sagisawa shrugs as though explaining off the weather. “Though you speak for yourself with the wolf comment. You’re so far the only one I’ve noticed to get test-y over some body language.” It’s a tease and a wry grin lights the dialogue.

Eishi’s brow furrows in defense and he makes an effort to protest before the Trickster continues. “But we can’t really blame you I guess. Additional symptoms of being an Alpha?” The way his voice curls is infuriating, but the moniker flushes his face with a red embarrassment.

He had gathered a while back that Takayama was dubbing him the leader, but putting it in pack terms like that weakens his knees. “We’re not beasts.” He grumbles with little conviction. With the amount of meta-analysis and scientific method being thrown around as of late, Eishi had his personal misgivings.

“Without a doubt. But we certainly aren’t human now are we?” Sagisawa smirks with a knowing glance. Always on the contrary-- Eishi was finding his presence to be intellectually stimulating despite any apprehensions around his greater theatrics. He might admit a fondness for the way it inspired his own wit.

“You’re insufferable.” Spoken like a true friend.

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Eishi narrows his eyes, suddenly feeling indignant.

Hmm. ‘Alpha’.

He flicked the switch, channeling his companion’s need for flare.

“You know, if I had to make a guess, I’d say you were undermining my authority with that attitude.” Eishi takes a step into Sagisawa’s space, blinking his eyes back into a brilliant red as he cocked a challenging smirk. His wings extend through his intrusion. The motion is slow. So subtle it’s undetectable had they not left their tell in the forefront of the conversation. By the time he’s halted his space encroaching he’s gained a much larger percentage of surface area to his presence.

Sagisawa lights up instantly, far too giddy at the threat. His lips purse as his eyes blaze the same color. While still holding his wings in composure behind him, his wing mass feathers seem to flare with a static electricity. Reservation was not the term to describe the dramatic Sagisawa Rei, but ‘in-control’ fit a good majority of the time.

“I am the president of our fine ensemble.” A proud lilt. Eishi scoffs.

“A figurehead.”

“I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“It doesn’t. Just have to keep the pecking order straight.” His voice reverberates in a lower pitch, attempting a more impressive status. It probably would’ve work if not for the stretch of his neck as he craned his gaze to meet the second tallest club member.

“Oh that was bad.” Sagisawa gives an arrogant huff of self importance. There were many instances where such behavior would elicit Eishi’s staple irritation at the finer society’s audacity to act in any way other than humble. It was so easy to forget Sagisawa’s pedigree in the drumming rhythm of a conversation. The constant, but erratic beat inspired the spontaneity of Eishi’s smiles and wit. Like a knee-jerk reaction, the shorter boy’s wings jolted into a pointless flap, hitting the space around him like a thug would mark his turf.  

“Race?” The electric desire rolls through Eishi only after he’s made the challenge, his tone far too eager for his liking, but irresistible. It seems like the most perfect solution to protect his pride and it smears his face with a competitive grin. His body feels the thrum of anticipation courses through the tips of his wings, putting him in a coiled up crouch. He slows his breath trying to predict his opponent’s inhale. There is a staunch extension of the taller boy’s wings, prepped and ready.

“Down the cliff-side. Tag Umino to win.” Poor girl.

“Takayama.”

“Deal.”

They didn’t even need to rev behind a countdown, the proverbial gunshot went off as they fling themselves of the cliff-side, letting gravity take them. Immediately at the rush of the wind, their firing nerves meet validation with the climbing horizon. A helmet only forms on an afterthought in the blur of dark hair, and at its completion, it swallows the roar with a mind spinning silence.

The memory of a screaming downpour flits past his eyes. The vertigo of cutting loose, like the free fall of a liberated marionette. At the time, Eishi felt more like the cruel puppet master, merely untangling the already woven strings of control and trauma. He took the kindred mind that  flanked his right and lead him through a dream of illuminated beacons and air that sparkled with falling diamonds. Where a sense of heedless freedom engulfed them like the rain that consumed their speeding forms. Mindless conversation lulled by an adrenaline spiked high. Sagisawa glowed with a joy gasping for air and each breath wove his heart with unparalleled warmth.

Just like that memory, Sagisawa followed his lead, whether he wanted to or not.

 “Ei-chan! Sagisawa! Finally decided to…”

Kamoda trails as the barreling form of the two birdmen grows at an alarming speed, directly toward their existing pod of hovering bodies.

“Get a head start Takayama, you’re the moving finish-line!”

Eishi’s tweet is positively booming and it sends Umino and Kamoda careening to the side out of the way as they slice through the air toward the red birdman. Takayama’s face is reaction-less but he absorbs the sight with a widening focus.

“Why the hell are you warning him?” Sagisawa tweets in an exasperated tone while Takayama sends himself into a dead weight plummet to the earth without preamble. Eishi takes an arching dive after him, a bullet of black. The white birdman is on Eishi’s tail in their mid air pivot, their forms now shrinking in the distance. In a surprise twist, left behind are the hovering flaps of the flock’s two most rambunctious members.

Umino looks at Kamoda with cocked eyebrow. Well wasn’t that a sight to behold