#or bright yellow can sometimes look good but also sometimes doesn’t look good

[theshadowrealmitself]

Filling out forms that ask me questions I don’t really think about so I’m googling stuff like “least favorite color” to compare with with other people’s answers, feeling like a robot trying to blend in

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Homelessness

Being a homeless kid has its perks, Billy supposes. He’s picked up tips and tricks from other kids and even adults during his time. It’s practically second nature to him at this point. Only thing is, the fact that it’s second nature in the first place is what can come back to bite him in the future.

Like lock picking. He’s good at it, and it’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but it’s helped him when he’s needed it most. He’s gotten shelter from blizzards, sleet, and rain with this skill. That’s why when Billy, Flash, GL, and Supes got locked in an all yellow room with red sun lamps and a locked door.

Supes, GL, and Flash: *all discussing how to get out* Marvel: *leans down in front of the keyhole of the door*

Supes: “Alright Flash, vibrate through the door-”

Marvel: “Done!” *opens door*

*silence*

GL: “How’d you do that?”

Marvel: “I picked the lock.” *walks out and immediately gets shot in the face by one of the guards*

Then there’s pickpocketing. He’s also unfortunately good at this. Freddy says he’s better though. Billy isn’t about to make a contest out of it. Batman found out about this particular talent when both him and Billy went undercover for a mission to uncover the scheme of some foreign politician.

Batman: *as Bruce Wayne* “That’s the man.” *subtly gestures to him*

Marvel: “Him? Okay… What do you wanna do?”

Batman: “First, we need to properly identify-”

Marvel: “Oh, okay.” *walks over to the man, passes him, then comes back to Bruce* “Here.” *places the man’s wallet in Bruce’s hand*

Batman: “…that he was involved in the crimes.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: *opens the wallet anyways and starts looking through it*

Marvel: “Do you want me to put it back?”

Batman: *puts one finger up to Marvel’s face while he continues looking through the wallet*

Marvel: *deflates slightly* “Oh, okay.”

Batman: *pulls out a clue from the wallet* “Put this back, chum.”

Marvel: *scurries off to put the wallet back*

Bruce then heavily lamented how Marvel knew how to pickpocket so well. Cause the thing is, Marvel’s like six feet tall. (Had to make him a little shorter guys. My bad.) A man like that had no business doing that so well in a bright red sweater and yellow hat.

Then, there’s the avoiding cops. He rarely sticks around for them. He does not mess with them. He’s had too many bad experiences as Billy for it to translate well to Marvel. Whenever one tries to talk to him, he’ll say the bare minimum as politely as he can and fly off. Sometimes, if he knows it’s a cop who’s harsher on the homeless than most, he’ll act polite(passive aggressive) and then give them a nice, firm(crushing) handshake. One such incident was when a cop asked for a photo:

Cop A and Marvel: *posing for a photo by shaking hands*

Marvel: *smiling at the camera, his grip tightening on the hand*

Cop A: *awkward laugh* “That’s a tight grip you got there, Captain.”

Marvel: *lightens his grip, looking down to Cop A’s name tag: Richard* (This isn’t Nightwing guys) “My bad, dick.”

Cop A: “Excuse me?”

Marvel: “Oh no no no, not like “dick,” Dick.” *grip tightens again* “Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit from the bottom of my boot that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.” *smiles the whole time as he speaks* “No, like your name, officer, Dick.”

Cop A: “I prefer Richard.”

Cop B: *takes photo*

Also, anybody who gets that reference gets a kiss. Man or woman. It doesn’t matter. I don’t make the rules. By the way, someone definitely recorded that entire interaction and #passiveaggressivecap ended up trending on twitter.

Then, there’s the time Supes came over to Fawcett to hang out. They were chilling on a rooftop talking when down below they both saw a teenager steal food from a seller.

Supes: *doesn’t see Marvel move* “Aren’t you gonna stop that kid?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. He’s homeless. He clearly needs it more than we do.”

Supes: *blinks rapidly but then remembers he’s not in Metropolis and can’t really tell Marvel how to run his city* “Okay then.”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 7

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Robin’s been keeping her eyes peeled, and things have only gotten weirder.

Chrissy and Steve are still tied at the hip, still holding hands sometimes in the halls, she’s still wearing his letterman jacket any chance she gets. It all screams perfect textbook couple destined to win prom king and queen in a few months and pop out boring babies with glorious hair a few years later.

Except, she’s seen Chrissy leave two more notes in Eddie’s locker, has seen her and Steve pick up random books out of the library and pull envelopes out of them. She’d think the pair were pulling some sort of horrible prank on Eddie, if Chrissy wasn’t so goddamn nice.

And she’s seen Steve staring down the other boy, more caught in Eddie’s pull then even Chrissy is. It’s like he’s trying to melt Eddie’s eyeballs straight out of his skull with the force of his gaze. For his part, Eddie never even seems to notice.

That’s not even mentioning whatever the hell had happened in the cafeteria last week when Eddie had kissed Chrissy’s hand, and then Steve had whisked her away before Jason could start some sort of pissing contest.

Even the band nerds were all atwitter with that development.

And then there’s the other guy: Jeff.

Before this whole cluster of a situation, she hadn’t known Jeff from Adam, but now he’s everywhere. It feels like every other day now he’s climbing into Chrissy’s passenger seat and they’re speeding away, not a Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson in sight.

Or they’re in the library doing the same mail pick-up that Chrissy and Steve do together. Once, Robin had even seen Jeff by her side as she’d dropped a note into Eddie’s locker, which might be the wildest part of the whole situation; Robin had been under the impression that he and Eddie were friends.

There’s some benefits to being invisible: no one notices her.

So, she’s got all these building blocks to the juiciest gossip in Hawkins High for probably decades, but, no matter how she stacks them together, she can’t make them into a picture she understands.

All she knows is this: Steve Harrington is up to something shady.

Robin’s got her eyes open and a mission of the heart. She’ll protect Chrissy with all she has, and if Steve gets caught in the crossfire? That’s fine with her.

*** 

Chrissy’s still all over Harrington. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend why someone who leaves him such lovely, lovely notes has stuck herself to that douche’s side.

Eddie doesn’t get it.

Is it the status bump? No, can’t be, even Eddie knows the guy’s fallen a few pegs down the ladder since whatever the hell had happened with Wheeler last year.

Maybe it’s the looks? He’s got that swoopy hair all the girls fawn over, and the features to back it up. But Chrissy’s never struck him as that shallow, no matter how hot the guy is.

Is it the money, the car, the nice clothes? What does Steve Harrington have that Eddie doesn’t?

Is it the way he leans up against lockers, smiling at every girl in his sight like they’re his whole world? The way he tucks a lock of hair behind their ears, eyes smoldering, touch gentle? Steve goddamn Harrington with his jockish good looks and sweeping charms. 

He just—doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t received a note in his locker for a couple days now, not since Eddie’d come up to her table in the cafeteria and kissed her hand.

Her nails had been painted a perfect pink, and when Eddie looked away to stare Harrington down, he’d noticed the guy had nail polish on, too: a bright yellow that would have suited him if it wasn’t chipped to hell.

It was such a small, incongruous detail, but it niggles at Eddie late into the night. It doesn’t fit with who Eddie knows Harrington to be. 

It didn’t fit, and he’s tired of nothing fitting together the way it should, so he’s been avoiding Harrington like the plague.

So, when he catches Chrissy in a rare moment where Steve’s not loitering in her periphery, he approaches again, hands raised like, see here, I’m harmless!

She smiles at him, white teeth damn-near glinting where they peek out from behind her lips. Eddie’s reciting sonnets in his head.

“Miss Cunningham,” he says, bending over at the waist and bowing low as she laughs at him. “Would you give this lowly Dungeon Master the honor, nay the privilege, of accompanying him on his quest this Thursday?”

Chrissy’s head’s tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as she asks, “in plain English?”

He bounces closer, pleased to have even gotten his foot in the door. “My Dungeons and Dragons club is starting a new campaign tomorrow,” he says. “Want to come play?” When she purses her lips instead of answering, he scrambles to continue. “Or even just watch?”

Chrissy’s lips are still pursed, but she’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about saying yes. “That might be fine,” she replies. “Where should I meet you?”

And that’s how he finds himself with Chrissy Cunningham sitting in at the next Hellfire session. Gareth’s awkward because he always is when there’s a pretty girl in his vicinity, but Jeff smiles and chats with her like they’re old friends. Doug doesn’t seem to care one way or another, too focused on getting the newest campaign started to care about an interloper.

It goes off without a hitch, Chrissy’s presence blending into the background. He forgets her entirely until the end of the session when she starts slinging questions at them, and Jeff starts patiently explaining what a modifier is, and how they know which dice to roll as Eddie packs up his supplies. 

He’s got grand ideas about taking Chrissy home, had even cleaned out his van for it, but Chrissy was always destined to pop his ego.

“That was great, Eddie!” Chrissy cuts in, barely waiting for the party to finish celebrating to speak. “But, I’m already late to meet Steve, so I’ve got to go.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, staring at her retreating back, “okay.”

She turns back around right before she’s through the drama room door, still smiling as she calls, “see you guys next week!”

She’s going to see Harrington, the bane of Eddie’s current existence, but she did say it was great. No, she’d said Eddie was great.

Truly a mixed bag.

Eddie takes his time wrangling the boys out of the room and into his van, determined to hold onto the high of Chrissy Cunningham watching him DM—no way would he let Harrington of all people ruin his night.

*** 

She damn-near runs out of the drama room, lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue—she’s not late to meet Steve, isn’t planning to see him at all.

It’s just, she knows what that gleam in a boy’s eyes means; Eddie was about to do something stupid. Ask her out, or try to flirt, or do something else both embarrassing and heart-crushing for Steve.

So, she’d done what she’s best at in uncomfortable situations: she’d lied.

Now, she’s just gotta get out of the school before anyone can call her on it.

The school’s eerily empty, the fluorescent lights only on in patchy segments, luring all the lingering students into the poorly-lit parking lot where Chrissy’s car waits. She just wants to get into her bed and wait until she can debrief with Steve in the morning.

She’s just twisted the key in the lock and begun pulling it open when a hand reaches past her and slams it closed. Chrissy jumps, fear coiling through her stomach and rapidly churning into anger. She turns, back to her car, ready to curse out Eddie or one of his other club members, but the words die unsaid in her throat.

It’s not Eddie; it’s Jason. His hand’s still slapped onto her door, keeping it closed, and in the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes are almost glowing. She wants to take a step back, but he’s effectively boxed her into the side of her own car.

“Are you serious, Chris?” he asks. The nickname sounds wrong in his mouth, all toxic and chopped up. Not at all like when Steve says it. “You really are hanging out with freaks now?”

“Jason, I—” Chrissy starts, hating the way her voice trembles.

“Are you sleeping with that freak now, too?” he demands, crowding farther into her space. “Harrington was one thing, but Munson?”

He says Eddie’s name like it’s a curse. She’s scared, still, but suddenly she’s furious that she wasted years of her life with this douche, that she’s still wasting time being afraid of him.

“He’s better than you’ll ever be,” she snarls, unsure if she means Steve or Eddie. It doesn’t matter, it’s true for both.

Without wasting another word on the jackass who’s made it his mission in life to make her feel small, Chrissy yanks her door open. It hits him in the face, sending him stumbling to the asphalt with a groan.

Even still, she rushes to slide into her car, ramming the key in and backing out without even checking her blind spots for unsuspecting pedestrians.

Jason’s just making his way back to his feet when she glances into her rear-view mirror before turning out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Her hands shake on the steering wheel making the car jerk about.

She doesn’t go home.

All the lights are on in the Harrington house, and she worries for a second that his parents are home for once before she sees the solitary car in the driveway. She parks behind it, taking the extra minute to line her car up perfectly parallel to it, hoping her hands will stop shaking by the time she’s done.

Steve’s waiting on the stoop by the time she makes it out of her car and up the driveway, hands still shaking with aftershocks of flight or fight. His arms are crossed, and he’s scowling down at her from his casual lean against the closed door.

“Will you come to Hellfire with me next Thursday?” she asks, voice wobbling around the request.

“Was it that bad?” Steve asks, scowl shifting into a teasing smile before she steps into the halo of the porch’s light and he catches sight of the expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

His hands are on her shoulders, warm and grounding against the chill that’s seeped into her skin. She reaches one of her hands up to brush the wetness from beneath her eyes. “Will you come?” she asks again, question firming up and sharpening now that she’s here, safe.

Steve’s hands squeeze, warm, warm, warm. “Course, Chris,” he replies, and she was right—it is better coming from his mouth. “Want to come in?”

She follows him into the house, curling herself up small in the corner of his couch, relieved when he sits close. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush her at all, just waits, patient the way Jason never was.

“You’re a great fake boyfriend, you know,” she says, smiling when he laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, as your fake boyfriend, do I need to kill Eddie?” he asks, and when she looks up from her knees, his eyes are almost shining with sincerity. “Because I will, you know.”

“I know,” she says, cheeks warming, not because she likes a boy, but because she has a friend, a real one who would pick her even over his crush. “But, Eddie was nice.”

Steve hums, slumping into her further. “So, who am I killing?”

“No one!” Chrissy replies, laughing just a little. Steve’s just like a dog with a bone; she’s always been a dog person. “Or Jason, maybe?”

“What?” Steve barks, all playfulness gone from his voice. “What the hell did he—”

“He didn’t do anything!” she rushes out, making space between their bodies so she can meet his heated gaze. “He just freaked me out.”

“But, he can’t—”

“But, you’re a good friend, and will come to Hellfire next week to keep it from happening again, right?”

Steve groans, slumping back into her and hiding his face in her hair. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, only continuing when she pinches him hard right beneath his ribs. “But, fine! I’ll go!”

“Thank you,” Chrissy replies, glad she hadn’t gone home to recover alone.

Steve rubs his face against her head like the freak he secretly is. “Anytime.”

They stay there, bathed in the quiet of their shared companionship and the frankly alarming number of lights Steve has lighting up his entire house.

She’s almost dozed off, slumped into his side when Steve asks, “but, like, how was it?”

She laughs, body shaking with delight instead of fear this time as she replies, “Eddie Munson is such a nerd.”

PART 8

[katelynnwrites]

Honigbiene's Bee Machine | Laura Freigang x Child!Reader

warnings: asthma attack

word count: 1143

summary: you are diagnosed with asthma

a/n: part of Laura's Honigbiene

Laura thinks it’s funny how much you love flowers.

Exactly like your namesake, honeybee.

You love touching them and feeling the petals between your fingers. You love plucking them and bringing them home, where your Mama lets you keep them in mason jars of water.

Every time your Mama takes you on walks to the park or anywhere else really, you come home with flowers.

From bushes, the football field and even cracks in the sidewalk, you pick them up.

After you learn colours at school, you like naming the colours of your flowers to Mama. Just in case she didn’t have a teacher to teach her.

White are the ones that grow where Mama and Tantes kick a ball around and yellow are the ones that grow right outside your home.

Sometimes your Mama asks if you have a favourite but you don’t. You love them all equally and you tell her as such. Mama always laughs and kisses your forehead, saying that you’re adorable.

You don’t really understand what she means by it but you love her anyway. You love her more than you love your flowers because she is the best.

Mama cuddles you a lot and lets you sleep in her big bed all the time even though you are not a baby and have your own big girl bed.

She’s also patient, giving you all the time you want when you stop to look at each and every flower you see, on the way to the playground.

You think Mama is your best friend.

She’s got her watchful eyes on you now as you head off towards the first patch of flowers you see.

They are a bright pink and so pretty that you run to get there faster.

Mama is always reminding you to be careful and use your walking feet but you’re just so excited that you can’t help it.

It has happened before, with your Mama often chiding you gently and warning that you could fall.

That has never happened before but it seems like today is the day your luck runs out.

Laura knows it's going to happen before you do but there is nothing she can do as you somehow trip and fall face first into the flowers you had been so looking forward to seeing.

She’s at your side, lifting you out of them before you have a chance to cry.

‘Oh Honigbiene.’ She murmurs soothingly.

‘Mama.’ You whimper and she hugs you close.

‘Mama.’ You whine again because something doesn’t feel good.

There is an odd feeling in your chest, like the one you sometimes get after running a lot but so much worse.

‘It’s okay.’ Your Mama coos, rubbing your back soothingly.

You cough loudly, startling Mama enough that she draws back to look you over.

You cough again. Then again and again and again.

‘Hurts Mama.’ You cry, beginning to get scared.

You’re breathing faster and faster, trembling slightly in front of your Mama who is quickly realising that something is very wrong.

She forces calm into her voice, in an attempt to keep you calm, ‘Honigbiene take a deep breath. Nice and slow.’

With tears streaming down your face, you shake your head, trying to tell her that you can’t.

‘Yes you can. Try baby try.’ Mama pleads.

You attempt to suck in a breath but you’re only able to manage a shaky wheeze.

If your Mama wasn’t panicked before, she sure is now.

‘Keep trying Honigbiene.’ She urges as she dials for an ambulance.

She’s talking very fast but the ick in your chest gets bigger.

‘Mama.’ You choke out, whimpering when she drops her phone to hold you.

‘The ambulance is coming. You’ve just got to hang on a little bit longer, okay Honigbiene?’

Mama gets you to sit down as she rubs your back in hopes that it will help.

Still, the ambulance can’t come soon enough.

By the time it arrives, you are pale and breathless, your heart beating fast as a result of the lack of oxygen and how terrified you are.

The people that come out of it slip a mask onto your face and then one of them, a nice woman explains to you that it will help you breathe.

Like your Mama, she tells you to take deep breaths.

Then Mama carries you into the ambulance where you lay down on a small bed inside. She softly tells you that you’re going to the hospital where lots of nice people will look after you.

Your Mama promises that you’ll be okay and you believe her because she had never lied to you before.

The funny mask helps you feel better but your chest still hurts and you’re coughing a lot.

If you weren’t so distracted by how sick you feel, the sound of the ambulance sirens would have made you excited.

As it is, you whimper to Mama until you get to the hospital.

Then a doctor checks you over and gives you another funny mask.

This one has white smoke and when you take deep breaths in, helps you to breathe properly again.

The ick that hurts your chest goes away and you happily sit in your Mama’s lap to finish taking the big slow breaths that the doctor asks you take.

Your new mask is connected to a machine that hums.

‘Just like a bee!’ You tell Mama.

‘Yes. Just like a bee.’ She murmurs, hugging you tightly.

Mama does not let you go even when the doctor comes back in to talk to her, using big words you don’t understand.

He gets you to blow into a big tube a lot and stares at a screen with lots of squiggly lines and numbers on it.

You don’t understand what he’s doing but when he’s done, you get to go home with the humming machine.

‘I like my Bee Machine.’ You say to your Mama as she sets it by the big bed at bedtime.

Mama laughs, ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’

She tucks you under the covers with one of the honeybees Tante Klara crocheted for you.

‘I like your Bee Machine too. It’s going to help you and that is very important. You are very important to me and I love you so much, Honigbiene.’

‘Love you too Mama.’ You whisper and she gives you a goodnight kiss on your forehead before tucking herself under the covers.

You might be getting bigger but Laura thinks that you’ll never be too big to stop fitting in her arms.

As long as you want her to, she’ll let you sleep in her bed and hold you till you fall asleep.

With how much your newly diagnosed asthma scared her today, she holds you long after you’ve fallen asleep.

Even when she falls asleep, she’s holding you close.

German Translation:

Honigbiene - Honeybee

[dearestdolly444]

Can tadc have victorian goth witch ? Her favourite film probably would be Love Witch...

Her dress and her witch hat has spider and siper webs accessory..

And calls them all with a "darling" nickname in a platonic way and kinda she is like a rich aunt to them and she is a good listener and has dark humor too

İ loved your blog btw

⛧°。⋆TADC x witchy!reader⋆。°⛧

Giggles this is my first anon request

As a witch, this made me so happy to get! I love that movie so much omg. And thank you cutie💕

If you’d like a part two let me know<3

Warnings: implied platonic, but could be seen as romantic

Characters: Caine, Gangle, Kinger

now playing…

Caine

- Lets be honest, he’s not going to approve of your choice in movies. The Love Witch isn’t exactly PG… but he’ll let you watch Sabrina The Teenage Witch! That’s close enough, right—?

- He might let you tone down the colours of your bedroom, but doesn’t let you change it to dark colours like black, sadly. Still have to keep the circus theme!

- Caine likes your style but would try to coax you to wear something more colourful. Maybe try a bright yellow! Or a neon pink! No? Oh well, maybe next time (it won’t work next time either).

- Calls you nicknames right back! A shortened version of your name, “dear,” or maybe “toots.” Gets a bit more peppy-in-his-steppy when you call him something when he’s not expecting it.

- Appreciates when you listen to the other circus members issues. It means less abstractions, which means less work for him… but really, he does find it quite helpful and sweet!

- Does not, however, appreciate your sense of humour. Will probably slap a censor on you when he thinks you’re being ”inappropriate” so you’ll have to tone it down, at least around him.

Gangle

- She’s attached to you, honestly. She just gets so happy and giddy when you call her “darling.” Depending on her mask, she might even give you a small nickname back. She’s be very shy about it, though…

- Adores your style even though she wouldn’t personally wear it. It just looks so good on you, probably not on her, though. She’s feel very flattered if you offered to dress her up, or even in the real world AU do her makeup. She’d probably let you but don’t go to heavy on everything. And it’s not staying on for a long time. She doesn’t like to feel very confined.

- Gangle will vent to you if you let her. If she’s feeling sad, she’ll seek you out to help her. She’ll either want comfort or light advice, so ask her beforehand.

- She finds 1/2 your humour hilarious and the other 1/2 kind of spooky… it really depends on her mask that day. She might make jokes with you or she might just give you a “😨” kind of look, LMAO😭

- Might watch movies with you, but she’ll cling to your arm when scary parts pop up. It’s not that she doesn’t like the movies or shows, it just creeps her out a little.

Kinger

- He’s a little afraid of you at first. He thinks you’ll curse him or something. He gets used to you, but sometimes he’ll scream and run away when you just appear there (He didn’t see you walk in).

- Once you’re there for a couple digital months he gets much more comfortable and even invites you in his pillow fort! Please say yes, it’ll make him so happy. Speaking of activities, he would also ask to find insects with you, seeing how you seem to like spiders. He probably thought you had real spiders on your clothes before he realized they were just decoration.

- Bless his soul, he doesn’t understand your humour. He asks about your jokes every time, and at this point you just pat him on the head and tell him not to worry about it.

- He likes to rant to you about anything. Sometimes it doesn’t even make sense, but you still listen. It makes him really excited to talk about how he once saw a game show that starred dogs in his dreams. And he also likes to vent, but it ends up in him talking about his next grand pillow fort..

- He giggles slightly when you call him petnames. If he had feet, they would be kicking. He probably doesn’t call you anything back, but he appreciates it! If he does call you something, it’s “dear.”

[amphitriteswife]

Teacher (and subjects) head cannons!:

(I’m from the netherlands and the school here has a different grading system. Also collage and highschool are one thing. So highschool is 4,5 or 6 years depending on which grade you get on tests and stuff in elementary so please bear with me)

Poseidon:

You would think that he would teach biology but you would be wrong. He would teach Physics or some high level math.

The type to not let anyone in after the bell rings

Doesn’t care if you end up dead in the class you will not go to the bathroom during his lesson

Stands by the door to make sure you put it in those phone pockets thingy

Gives the most homework out of all the teachers

Wears formal clothes, always. Suits, blazer, slacks ect.

You will never catch him on a bad hair day

If he catches you cheating on a test, you can say goodbye to that grade because he will give you a zero.

He does sometimes turn a blind eye if you’re on the brink of not passing and don’t choose his subject. (You do need to be on the brink. So not like a 3 or sum)

Hates electronics so he just wants everyone to use a paper and the book. No laptops.

Only talkes to some teachers like Hades and Thor

Students think he’s either the worst or just eye candy

Has won the the contest of best man titties by students

People actually ended up crying in his class and he didn’t give a damn

Sends people out 2 minutes before the time and doesn’t care if they beg.

If you have him as a substitute you can start praying because you’ll miss your regular teacher

Types with one finger if he’s on his phone (rare sight)

Checks homework. As in not just looking but actually reading your calculations.

He sometimes even grades your homework or puts them for bonuses

He sometimes reads if it’s work time and he finishes his lecture

Got drunk one time during school dance and started breakdancing. Hades was supportive and filmed it.

Hades

Teaches history

Is well with his colleagues and is well liked by students

He’s not strict with phones but please don’t use them in his class

You sometimes do work. He mostly explains and writes notes on the white board for you to write down

Is very, very passionate about certain topics. His favorites would be the world wars and the greek/ roman empire.

Is that type of teacher that you could tell anything. School, home, hobbies. He won’t mind and he’s equally interested.

Has a mentor class every year and he helps them a lot.

His class is very popular and lots of people choose his subject, so popular that people who don’t take it sometimes ask if they can stay and also follow it for fun

Almost never gives homework

He makes planners, notes, power points. Anything that may help his students.

He even lets the class watch films so that they understand it better, he usually choses for oversimplified if he needs to explain the word wars

You can eat in his class as long as you keep it clean and don’t throw stuff

Smells like rituals. Flowers. Very addictive and good. Sniff

Is present at the school dance and school parties. He helps with carrying and making sure the students don’t do stupid stuff

He doesn’t even need to discuss about his students’ grades because all his students do good in his class

Is rated to have the biggest dick by the students.

Also wears formal clothes. So like a suit, but if he crosses his legs you can see that he wears funky socks. Like a bright purple with colorful cupcakes on it or a bright blue with yellow ducks on it.

Gives extra lessons if you don’t understand.

You know how when someone asks teachers about their life? If you do that he gets so happy and explains a lot

Shows pictures of Melinoe and Zagreus from when they were babies.

He brought a 4 year old melinoe with him one time and the class played with her. If she was not playing with the students she was probably in her father’s lap.

He also shows pictures of Persephone. Every time he talks about her you can hear the love in his voice. (I’m Persephone reincarnated)

Hermes

Teaches music ofcourse

You would think that music was easy but it really isn’t. You need to able to read music notes. You get 2 tests, playing and theory.

Helps well if you need assistance with your instruments

Gives surprise tests to see if you actually did the homework

He loves and i mean looooveeees gossip

He doesn’t say much but listens when a student says something about another teacher

Handles the school musical

You actually need to put effort if you want to pass

Doesn’t take away your phone if he sees you with it. Just stares from behind on it until you notice.

doesn’t sent people out of the class, just gives them extra homework

He never, ever stops smiling. The class is being too loud? He’ll sit in his chair and simply drink his tea while glaring with a smile.

Some students find him scary because of how polite he is, because they can feel that underlying anger.

Knows how to make a student’s life miserable if they make his class unbearable.

You threw paper at him and made the class disruptive? Boom 4 chapters done by the next lesson and all the texts should be 4 times written. In cursive

He is usually seen with the principal (Zeus)

Buddha

Geography teacher

Why? Because he often travels for different kind of reasons.

Eating is allowed, as well as chewing gun

Is great with the students and most people just choose his subject because he’s chill

Doesn’t prepare lessons. He just talks and the students get it

If he does have a powerpoint he promotes his insta, tiktok and his snap

Loves to know about different cultures

Had a diss battle in his class once and almost got into trouble

Called someone emo

If you eat in his class prepare to share.

Asks people if they can bring him coffee from the teachers’ room

You cannot tell me that dawg didn’t pull up in Jordans

Is also present at the school dance and actually bribes the dg for some songs

Doesn’t really care if you skip his class. He either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice.

He too has a mentor class. He has private talks and doesn’t mind if you tell him his problems and genuinely tries to help

Doesn’t give homework unless it’s necessary.

Beelzebub

Creepy Science teacher

Got called emo by Buddha

Doesn’t hesitate to threaten students

He never cares if you don’t show up, but he will rat you out because funny

Has been detected to smile when he does weird stuff. Like cutting things open

Is always in his lab and he’s the only one who can enter with a key

Someone made a sticker of his face and the whole school used it, again he doesn’t care

Had like those weird pots with stuff in it

Doesn’t allow anyone to touch them. He does demonstrate stuff if you ask nicely

Let’s you go early but it’s not in a nice way. He’ll only do it because he doesn’t want to teach anymore for the day

Doesn’t even go to lunch, he just remains in his lab

He only goes to halloween parties

Cyberbullies people. Teachers and students included

Runs the anti *insert school* accounts

Will not care if the school burns down. He hates everyone and everything. Except Hades, because he’s cool

Doesn’t care if you eat or drink. (He may or may not have put something in it for his experiments)

‘Students are like little monsters’ is his motto. He’ll treat them like it too

If you fail his tests he’ll sometimes give you one to retake

Thank ya’ll for reading :p

I’m gonna make a part 2. I think. Maybe some with the human fighters

[crazyunsexycool]

A Love as Sweet as Honey

Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 3.4K

Warning: mentions of blood, migraine, little bit of fluff I guess, a little bit of Charlotte, Also a new character is added... 👀

A/N: Well look who decided to finish writing chapter 2 of ALASAH. This is just a filler chapter. It's kind of to show how Steve and Honey kind of look out for each other. Also this is kind of self-indulgent since I've been getting a bunch of migraines lately... lol Anyways, the next chapter is where it's at.

Series Masterlist

You stood by as the jet landed. The bright sunlight had you squinting as you finished getting your gear on. To your right is Mrs. B with a few more people that worked in the medbay. She was supposed to be on maternity leave but the mission had been harder than the team had imagined and they would need all hands on deck. 

“You call me if you need anything.” She says as she moves to stand by you. She was always looking out for you. At first you thought it was just because you were friends with Steve but it was more than that. Maybe she could sense that you didn’t really have anyone you could count on. And although you weren’t sure how to show her you appreciated it you hoped she knew you did.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I know you will but if you need anything, call me.”

“I will, mom.” You rolled your eyes playfully but Mrs. B smiled proudly. 

The rear cargo door opens and some agents are moving stretchers down the ramp. Mrs. B and her team rush over and begin to work. You give them a few minutes before grabbing your bag and heading into the jet to do your part. At the ramp Sam exits and he stops in front of you.

“Steve’s still in there.” He informs you.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Some civilians and agents were hurt pretty badly. The mission failed and he’s beating himself up over it. You might want to give him a minute before going in there to get that case Doc.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

Sam gives you a quick nod before heading into the compound. You take a deep breath and look back at the jet. While you were very understanding of needing space and time away from people, you didn’t think that this was good for Steve. So after another minute of thinking through how you would approach him, you decided to just go in and do your job. 

The overhead lights are dimmed. The floor is littered with gauze, packaging and ripped uniforms. There’s caked up dirt and blood too. You try to ignore it and step over it as best as you can until you’re closer to the front of the jet. A lone figure sat in the dark. All slumped shoulders and head hanging low. Even as you sat next to him, Steve didn’t move. 

“I heard about the mission I-“ 

“Please don’t say that it wasn’t my fault or that it was out of my control.” He murmurs. He’s completely defeated. 

“I was going to say that I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. I think that you did your best.” 

“People got hurt.” He replies with a clenched jaw.

“But they didn’t die.”

“But they could have.” 

“And you got them to the people that could save their lives. Do you feel like you could have done more?” You tilt your head to look at him better.

“I could have done things differently.” 

“I said more.” 

Steve sighs as he runs a hand over his face and then shakes his head. “I don’t know that I could have.” 

“Then you did your best. Sometimes your best isn’t good enough but you can’t blame yourself for it. You’ll kick ass next time.” 

Steve nods but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.

You get up and head toward the chamber where hazardous materials are stored to grab the briefcase you came for. The whole reason for the mission in the first place. There’s some shuffling behind you and then laughter from Steve so you turn to find out what’s so funny. 

“What?” 

“You look like a rubber duck with that thing on.” 

You looked down at your yellow hazmat suit. There was a hood you had covering your hair, gloves, a face mask and disposable shoe covers.

“I’m going to remember you called me a duck.” You smile as Steve huffs another laugh. 

“Charlotte calls you a duck all the time.” 

“That’s between us girls.” You say before turning back to the job at hand.

Before you can remove the briefcase you have to check for any leaks so you grab a few things out of the bag you had with you. After doing a few preliminary tests you deem it safe to move so you put everything back and grab the briefcase. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You tell Steve. 

“I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Nope. You’re leaving now. You can mope in your apartment but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” 

“I promise I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

You shake your head. “Just go to your apartment. I’ll call Mrs. B.” 

“She doesn’t scare me.” 

“Fine, I'll bring in the big guns. I’ll call Charlotte and Henry.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Steve gasps.

“Try me.” You raise your brows. “Now grab your shit and let's go. I have samples to run.”

“Fine.” Steve grabs his shield and bag and follows you out of the jet. 

You walk in silence together until you get to the elevators. 

“I’ll see you later ok?” 

“You got something new to work on, I don’t think I’ll see you for at least three days.” Steve smirks. 

“I’ll check in with you at some point. You really did your best.” 

Steve nods but looks a bit dejected. 

“Go get some rest.” You say as you enter the elevator and Steve heads down the hall to the living quarters. 

The pain started slowly. At first you thought it was just stiffness in your neck from being in the same position for so long. But then the sounds of the lab and the conversations were too loud. The light was too bright. You were blinking slowly as you tried to focus on something around you. It wasn’t until the nausea hit that you knew you had a few minutes to clean up your station and save all the information you had before you needed to leave. You excused yourself with Bruce, who was looking at you with concern. He was kind enough to escort you to your apartment just to make sure you actually got there.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” He asks as you stop in front of your door.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I can get someone from the medbay come up here.” 

“No, I'm good. I’m sure with some sleep this migraine will go away.” You say quietly.  

“Well you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Rest up and let me know if you need anything.” 

“Thanks Bruce.” You say before heading inside. 

****

Steve is just closing the door to his apartment when Mrs. B turns the corner. She has her medic bag with her and instinctively Steve looks to your door.

“Mags, what's going on?” 

“Y/N asked me to come up. Said something about a headache.” She says while stopping in front of your door.

“Oh.” 

“I’ll let her know that you’re right here if she needs anything. I’m gonna go check on her.” 

“Ok.” 

****

After taking a nap and waking up feeling worse you did the only thing you could think of, called Mrs. B. If it weren’t because you were in such a weakened state you would’ve found more medicine for your headache. But you could barely get out of bed. 

“Y/N, it’s me. May I come in?” You heard Mrs. B call out softly. 

She was right outside your bedroom door so you just groaned in response. The door opens and the light from the living room fills the dark space you had created for yourself. You groan again and she closes the door. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She whispers as she sits at the edge of your bed. 

“Mi-migraine. Vomit. So bad.” You say with slurred speech. 

“Do you get a lot of migraines?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Ok. I’m going to step out and check our records and I’ll be right back to help you. Are you allergic to any medication?” 

There was complete silence for a moment and you felt Mrs. B’s cool hands on your forehead and you sighed. It was so hard for you to think straight so it took you a minute to come up with an answer. 

“No.” 

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” There was some shuffling around and the sound annoyed you but then you felt something cool on your head. “It’s an ice pack, maybe it could soothe you a bit.” She whispered and got up. 

It felt like hours had passed as you laid there waiting for Mrs. B to come back. Really it was just a few minutes but the pain you were feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t keep track of anything. 

“Y/N, I’m going to give you something for the pain ok.” 

“Mhm.” Is the only acknowledgement you could give. 

She moved quickly and quietly next to you in order to give you something to ease this pain. After she was done, Mrs. B sat beside you and pushed your hair away from your face. A motherly gesture that at a different time would have startled you but you welcomed it at the moment. She stayed for a few more minutes before grabbing her things. 

“Y/N?” She calls your name softly.

“Mm?” 

“Steve is out in the hallway. He wanted to know if it would be ok if he came in to check on you.” 

This was so new to you. No one ever really worried about your well-being. Now there were two people that were looking after you. It was nice but also hard for you to accept the help and attention. You only called Mrs. B because you knew that as a medical professional she wouldn’t deny helping you and out of everyone in the medbay you only felt comfortable with her coming into your apartment. Steve was something else entirely. Yes you lived across from him and you even had him over for a movie night but you hadn’t really unpacked then. If he came in now it would be like he could really see all of you. But at the moment you also needed help or the reassurance that someone would come in to see if you were still alive.

“Ok.” You barely manage to say.

“Alright I’ll let him know but you can still have Friday call me if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You say while turning away from her and closing your eyes again. 

****

“Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” The words were rushed and panicked. “C’mon open your eyes. Y/N open your eyes.” 

You groaned in response. The pain you felt was horrible. You were nauseous too. A nice cool feeling comes over your forehead and you lean into it. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” 

It was Steve. A panicked, worried Steve was talking to you but you felt like you were underwater so you only hummed. 

“I’m going to take you to the medbay.” He whispers as you’re lifted up in his strong arms. You lean into his chest and fall back into unconsciousness.

You were groggy and confused when you finally woke up. Your body ached and you still felt that dull pounding in your head from the overpowering migraine. The more alert you became the more you realized you weren’t in your room or your apartment. 

“Y/N?” Asked a sleepy voice from beside you. 

“Steve?” You rasp out. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.” You groan. “Where am I?”

“I had to bring you to the medbay, I came in to check in on you and found you passed out on your bathroom floor.” 

You just stared at Steve for a moment. “I-I don’t remember getting out of bed.”

“It’s ok. You were really out of it. The doctors said your migraine was really bad.”

“I haven’t had one this bad in a long time.” 

Steve cups your cheek, running his thumb back and forth. You lean into the touch and close your eyes, completely missing the worry in Steve’s eyes. Physical contact wasn’t something either of you did normally but it was nice to feel his warmth. Truth be told you craved being closer to Steve all the time.

“You know Charlotte and Henry came by to see you.” He says after a moment making you open your eyes. “They left their teddy bears because it would make you feel better. Henry even picked some flowers for you.” 

You look down to find pink and orange bears holding paws laying on your lap. A small bouquet of wildflowers is in a cup full of water. It makes you smile. “They’re sweet.” 

“They were very worried about you, so we’re a few other people. But let me call the nurse and then I’ll let them know you’re ok.” 

A nurse walks in a few minutes later. She checks your vitals, asks a few questions and leaves again. The small interaction drains you again. Steve takes a seat again as you watch him through hooded eyes. 

“You know you don’t have to stay right?” You whisper. 

“I know. I want to.” He replies softly with a smile. “Get some rest and I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

It had been a few days since you had woken up in the medbay. Since then Steve and Mrs. B had both been checking up on you regularly. Mrs. B making sure you were taking enough breaks and drinking plenty of water. It still felt odd to you, to have people that genuinely cared for you. There was no motive behind them coming to see you. 

You’d been around them for almost two years already and you still felt like an outsider. Their concern was genuine but you didn’t know how to react to it. You wanted to do something nice for Mrs. B and then something for Steve. 

“Hey.” Bruce startled you out of your thoughts. “I’m about to head down, walk with me?” 

“Sure.” You grab your tablet and head out with Bruce. 

He was going on a mission, a rare thing these days, and wanted to go over a few projects. This is what you were hired to do. So all the way from your office down to the jet he rattled off what he needed done and you made notes and asked questions. Bruce said a quick goodbye before walking towards the jet. 

“Hey,” you walk up to Steve who was looking at his own tablet. “Ready for your mission?” 

“I hope so.” 

“You’ll be fine. Remember you can only do your best. Don’t be reckless, I need you here.” 

Steve smiles, his cheeks flushing a little. 

At the other end of the hangar Bucky is giving his family kisses. Next to him is a blonde woman. When she sees Steve she starts walking his way, a smile on her lips. 

“Steve, how have you been?” 

“Good. How have you been Sharon?” Steve nods at her. 

“Good. Glad to finally have a more permanent residence.” Sharon says while crossing her arms over her chest. “This mission is going to be a hard one.” 

“You’re going on this mission?” 

“Yeah, didn’t Fury tell you? I’m starting here today. I’m the official liaison between the Avengers and the CIA.” 

You silently listen and look between them, unsure if something is happening. It feels like it is and you don’t like it at all. 

“This is doctor Y/N Y/L/N. She works with Bruce, Y/N this is Sharon Carter.” Steve introduces you. 

“So you’re the one who stole my apartment across from this one.” Sharon lightly smacks Steve’s chest. “If you didn’t want to be my neighbor again you could’ve just said that, Steve.” She chuckles. 

You’re annoyed by her instantly and you can’t hide the expression that says as much. It’s like she was trying too hard. Maybe you just didn’t want to share Steve’s attention. This friendship between Steve and Sharon didn’t feel like his friendship with Mrs. B. There was some underlying tension between the two people in front of you. 

“Yeah well, last time I thought you were a nurse. A CIA agent sounds more dangerous to have as a neighbor. Besides, Y/N here keeps me on my toes.” 

“Oh well,” Sharon looks between the two of you, trying to decipher what kind of relationship you have. “If you want a fun neighbor, let me know.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, getting the attention of both of them. While Steve seemed to have been caught off guard by Sharon’s comment overall, she seemed taken aback at your small reaction. 

“Have a safe mission.” You mutter before turning and heading back inside. 

“Duckie!” Lottie yelled across the hangar. “Wait for me.” She ran and stopped beside Steve to give him a hug and say a quick goodbye. 

“Don’t I get a goodbye?” 

Lottie who had been halfway to you turned, scowled in Sharon’s direction and shook her head. “No.” 

“Charlotte.” Mrs. B called out. “That’s not nice. Don’t be rude to Sharon.” 

“Bye.” Lottie says, the one word dripping with annoyance, and turns to run to you. “Can I be your ‘ssistant today?” She asks sweetly. You tried not to laugh at the quick shift in her mood.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get.” 

“Ok. I’ll be the best ‘ssistant.” Lottie takes your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the building. 

“Did I do something to piss her off?” 

Mrs. B joins Steve and Sharon and shakes her head. 

“At least not yet.” Steve quips, causing both women to look at him. “Her visions.” He reminds them both. 

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sharon waves off the concern. “We should get going though, right?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later Mags. Bye Peanut.” 

“Be safe.” Mrs. B calls out as Sharon and Steve head to the yet. 

You were about to close the door of your apartment behind you when the sound of tired footsteps echoed in the hallway. Pulling the door open just a bit you see Steve making his way towards his own apartment. He’s so tired he doesn’t even notice you stepping out of your apartment. 

“Hey.” You greet him.

He turns and gives you a tired smile.

“How did it go?” 

“The mission was a success. I did my best.” 

“That’s all that matters.” You smile. “I won’t keep you, you must be exhausted.” 

“I think I could sleep for days.” Steve blinks owlishly at you.

“Well fortunately your neighbor is boring and won’t keep you up.” 

Steve grimaced at the memory of Sharon’s comment a few days prior. He didn’t think you were boring at all. In all honesty he was glad you were living across the hall from him. Steve found some sort of comfort in having you close. 

“I don’t think you’re boring. I’m glad you’re my neighbor.” 

“Maybe I’ll make you regret it.” You quip making Steve huff a laugh. “Anyways, go get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve turns and starts opening the door before you call him.

“Would it be ok if I check in on you?” 

He gives you a tired smile but nods. “See, you’re the best neighbor.” 

You watch him disappear into his apartment before closing the door behind you. Now you get to repay Steve for having been so caring when you got sick. No one had ever cared about you as much as he had in that moment. Even when he was busy with reports and training he always made sure to check in on you. 

So you make sure he does in fact sleep as much as he needs. Although you don’t cook you’ve learned what he likes and make sure his fridge is stocked. When Sharon inevitably shows up knocking on his door you’re more than happy to send her away without her getting to flirt with Steve. The thought alone makes you irrationally angry because you know that Steve can be with whoever he wants to. When Sharon turns back around to see if you’re still standing in the hallway you send her the fakest smile you can muster. 

It was nice, having someone take care of you and you being able to return the favor. You felt like something was shifting in your friendship with Steve. And even though you weren’t sure what it was you would welcome it with open arms. Because being around Steve made you feel safe and cared for and you’d dare to say even loved. 

Ch. 3

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[shiningmystic]

A peek into your soul PAC

If you don’t believe in souls then this isn’t for you!

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。° 。°

You may not know yourself as well as you think; Your soul is its own thing, separate from your ego and higher self but is apart of the whole that is you and your energy. It's also only a peek into it so don't be too hung up on the minor details, just have fun! If it doesn’t resonate sorry man! Maybe next reading :)

If you see me describing you, then your pretty aligned with your soul!

How to choose a pile: Pick your favorite superpower and head down to your paragraph. You can choose a second one too if you’re a multi powered superhero 😉

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。° support me on my journey: [Ko-fi]・❥・[Tip me] Channeled songs: My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

Flight ➳

Channeled colors: Blue, white, grey

You're a creator at heart, a fool on his journey of awakening. I see hard work isn't for you or your soul. you're a slow mover, a trendsetter someone that holds an explorer's heart and the imagination of a child. you seek freedom in all its forms and a person who enjoys the finer things in life. you take your time and like to do what you want; you're not stubborn but may enjoy sitting around at times when things are going to slow and get boring. Your soul is actually full of surprises, and it advises you to stand up and work on the vision you want even if it may take a while; just feed your soul along the journey like going on adventures and you will be fine. Always keep building what makes your heart dance. Your soul sees through a lot of the ‘fake’ in reality, you do not lie to yourself if you can help it. A wisdom permeates from your soul, an old knowledge ready to be released through you, never be ashamed of the chaos for we are made by it. A beautiful wild mess I hear, and someone is laughing in my ears. You bring joy, speak your truth, wisdom flows out.

。°。°。°。°。°

Super strength ★

Channeled colors: the rainbow, yellow, orange and red

You have been wronged and your soul remembers; it fires up whenever something unjust plays out in front of you. Your soul is the flame, a fire that burns so bright that you are unavoidable especially in the darkness where you shout to the heavens how things should be different. Your soul desires unpredictability and a monotonous life is the complete opposite of what your soul seeks. Do you deserve a good life? it depends on you and no one else. you're the fighter, the warrior, you know you have the power you just need a direction to point it in. You're not afraid to be the thief and conniving villain if someone forces you in that position and your soul reminds you of this, that you hold destruction at your fingertips and also creation. Follow the sight of the unjust and see where your flame takes you. Your love is magical and to powerful that it even hurts you sometimes; you're explosive, a bloom of a different hue; never water it down to fit into the background. Your soul owns the world, do the same.

。°。°。°。°。°

Duplication ❋ ❋

Channeled colors: Bronze, blue, and black

Your soul is liquid fire, molten lava descending from a volcano. Your soul says you know where you're going, stop looking so far ahead that your brilliant mind clouds what is destined. I see a wise old old soul, something I can't even fully understand, but you do, you know it deep in your gut. your soul looks upon you like a child, but a child they feel conflicted by, as if the lessons from the past keep repeating, and the pain follows along. your soul absorbs it all but needs to be channeled properly out through physical action like exercise. Your eyes are powerful, have you heard your eyes are windows to the soul? well your soul is intimidating yet also very loving when given the chance, the energies are so flip flop it makes me believe you might not believe this. Psychic abilities might plague this pile, to the souls who understand take your time and see your tears are not unreasonable but come from a deep knowing, for your deep soul harbors many things for the people its loved and who it will love. Many witches will pick this pile and even if you aren't, you hold a dark kind of magic; not the one on T.V but magic that goes back to instinct, intuition true witchcraft type shit. A compass inside is leading you, but it doesn't mean it's always straight line and it may lead you somewhere unexpected; just know you aren't in the wrong place. Your soul knows you shouldn't rely on your foresight to know what will happen but your will to learn more about the world. your fear may hold you back, but fear isn't the one living with the consequences, you do; so, let your soul exist in the sound of music, the colors of the sky and the love in your heart.

。°。°。°。°。°

Telepathy ⚜

Channeled colors: pink, purple and blue

Your soul sings a melody that is irresistible, seekers of your love or presence will want a taste of your delicious soul. It may sound disturbing, but you feed the sick and lonely, the helpless and the needy. even if you may not like it your soul exists to radiate acceptance and healing, you may even be a sexual healer but that does not apply to everyone because it not even that exactly. If you enjoy music or like to sing or play an instrument, your soul expresses itself through it best; whatever helps you express do it more. Your soul is childish if you aren't, it is. it holds onto the precious things that you held dearly when you were young. your soul leaves room for everyone it can but this can be overwhelming. souls are learning along with us, accept what may be and walk along knowing you know what you need. I feel an excitement for the world, again your soul is young or has a beautiful and youthful understanding of reality that you may not even grasp yet. an innocence that wants to be shared. You are beautiful your soul says, you make me sing louder when you know it. Don't let the song lead you to far away from yourself but let it show you how amazing you are and to grow from there.

。°。°。°。°。°

Healing Factor ❤

Channeled colors: pink, red, yellow

Uh, I'm honored to come in contact with such a powerful soul. Your soul is stuck in the ‘in between’, a place of life and the beyond. It doesn't hate being there though, but you may feel it in different ways. I believe the dream walkers have picked this pile; you guys have some vivid dreams huh? Even if you don’t, your heavy sleepers. your soul is so connected to both sides so when you sleep it does its own thing and just dips into other realities. this may sound cool but I think many people here have physical ailments or issues that it's contributing too (not the cause but it’s contributing, just to emphasis). some of you have heavy mental issues that do not have to stem from trauma but born with it, even if you have been through something your soul carries a wound from your ancestors. i see your soul seeking something, going back ‘home’ and coming back to your body, trying to help you heal or find something to help. Your soul is happy when exploring and going back to ‘home’ its like going back to your roots so maybe that’s a message for some good back to your roots. There is a call from your soul to go back to reality as well and face something with you whatever it may be and accept what is; your strength, your beauty and that fear will not rule here, you’re not alone. you already know a lot about your soul (that’s what I’m hearing) so your personality is probably very aligned with your soul's energy. nice your souls are pretty chill and being the healing pile the vibes do add up.

Decks used: The Wild Unknown Archetypes by, Kim Krans, and The Original Rider Waite Tarot deck

[louferrignojrofficial]

I hope you don’t mind asking but you consistently have some of the best 911 gifs. How are your gifs so sharp? And the coloring so good? Could you do a little tutorial about your giffing?

omg thank you!!! this gets pretty long so i’m putting the tutorial under the cut

so firstly, i use kmplayer to screencap. the most important part though is the quality of the episode you have. you always want to work with 1080p, and my file is around 2gb. that is how my gifs always turn out ‘the best’ as you say 🤗 of course, colouring and sharpening help a lot, but if you don’t have a good download, your gifs can be helped but won’t be the best possible.

this is the gif i’m making having only been cropped and sharpened. i’m gonna show you how i make a gif and my colouring process (which, for this one, is admittedly pretty short and simple compared to what i usually do.) as you can see, it’s dark and pixelated and doesn’t look that appealing, no matter how handsome they both are.

also, i forgot to screenshot this before i started but the screenshot below shows the action i use to basically get all my screencaps organised to make one gif. this is after you’ve got the screencaps into photoshop in a stack.

i can’t find the original post with the action, and i’m not sure how to share it on this post… but if it’s not that important in the scheme of this post, there are many other posts out there with actions you’ll be able to easily find and download.

anyways. so this is gonna go through the process of making a gif assuming you’ve done the process of importing the frames and sharpening. (i would normally cut out my taskbar but there are so many screenshots, it would take foreverrrr)

the next step would be cropping. this is the original:

and i’m doing a 540 x 500 gif. i like mine to be bigger so i can only get the person/people i want in the gif (sorry eddie) but sometimes if i want that it’ll be smaller, usually 540 x 400.

anyways, i crop from the edge and make it a little smaller so i don’t get the white border around it. and then i move the gif away from the top and right edge of the gif just by 3-5 pixels. which i already did here and then zoomed in:

next, image size. i honestly didn’t know about cropping it and then using image size for a few months when i started giffing (i don’t even know what i did back then not knowing that.)

then as you can see, it’s 540 x 500. if you’ve cropped it to the size you want beforehand, it’ll be automatically those dimensions.

next, we’re finally starting on colouring. i always tend to start with curves and use the middle brush on the left. the top one you use to make it darker, and the bottom you find the whitest point on the gif to make it a lot brighter. but i find the middle one colour corrects too, so it’s not too bright or dark, and is less yellow or whatever colours you don’t want.

it depends on where you click to get this result, i’m not sure how to explain what i do but i just click all over and try to get the yellows off and the skin colour to look generally the same as what they have. most of the time, if i get this accurate enough, the rest of the colouring process is just to brighten up the gif.

so, then after i got my desired result, we’re brightening it up because you can’t really see them all that well. i use brightness/contrast but i tend to use exposure the most.

as you can see, i am at +2.78 exposure which is crazy high (imo). but as that and the curves layer did a lot of the work for me, i mostly have the colouring i want.

although i think it could be a little lighter, so i add a new layer of brightness and contrast this time. i don’t brighten it all that much after that. i want to make it so that either one of their faces aren’t shining, and with too much of the exposure, it can make that happen.

next, i notice that tommy is kinda green/yellow, so i want to fix that up and make him more natural. i go to colour balance for that this time. most of the time i go to selective colour -> yellow or red, depending on how much i want to change. with selective colour, it gives you a few options in shades: cyan, magenta, yellow and black to alter, all for your specific colour.

meanwhile, colour balance changes the whole thing. since i wouldn’t mind that in this instance, i just go with colour balance.

tommy is looking less yellow and green, but still, he’s not where i want him to be. (plus oliver’s scruff area is naturally ginger so it shows up as yellow, and i want to decrease that a little.) so i go to hue/saturation, choose yellow, and decrease it a little more.

now, after this, i messed around with selective colour as i mentioned earlier and with the colour yellow and red specifically. but after comparing where i was at before, vs with those selective colour layers, i just liked that previous one more. so my last layer is the hue/saturation one. and i’m done colouring!

next, i go to my trusty camera raw filter to make them stand out more and be a little crispier.

i tend to stick to + 10 up to 30, somewhere in that range. sometimes the texture and clarity match, sometimes they don’t. it’s all up to you, but for this one, i knew it would end up a little too crispy so i didn’t go too high.

i also like to add some grain so that it’s less pixelated (it admittedly annoys me a lot when it’s got those visible square pixels all over.) i never go higher than 5 in grain, it does the job well.

after that, i’m finished with my gif!

next, we want to export the gif.

as you can see, the gif is less than 10mb, is set to loop for forever, and is made with selective diffusion. admittedly, i don’t think about that setting that much, but sometimes if it’s a lower quality gif, i’ll change it to selective/adaptive pattern instead. but that’s not relevant here.

after that, we open our gif that we just made into photoshop again. this time we want to select all frames:

and change the frame delay so it’s not as jumpy. for some reason, it automatically changes so that they alternate in frames from 0.03 to 0.07, but i want them all to be 0.05.

now that’s the last step and you just export the gif again!

this is the final gif!!!

i hope this was easy to understand! thank you for the kind words, and for asking me about my process because i’ve honestly always wanted to make a tutorial. if you have any more questions, or want to see my process colouring something more difficult to work with, let me know! 🫶

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry I’m posting again :’) I’m losing track of what I’ve posted because I’m not posting in any sort of chronological order so if I’ve posted anything about the auction (technically it’s a fundraiser but I’ve always called it the auction) then this is a prequel !!! if I haven’t then >:) enjoy this totally innocuous thing, nothing horrible happens after this at all

also I’ve been losing track of the names I use for the background soldiers since the very beginning so if I ever use a name more than once it’s up to you whether it’s the same guy or two guys w the same name <3 LOL

tw/cw: dehumanization, captivity, mentions of dismemberment, implied rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, grievous bodily harm, stabbing

living weapon whumpee, military whump, creepy whumper

Any night that Silas spends with Wren is a good night.

It doesn’t matter how much he’s bleeding, or how much he hurts, if Wren is nearby and Silas is sure that he’s okay, that he’s safe, then it’s a good night. He’s died happy knowing that Wren is safe.

There’s something to be said about the nights, however, that Wren is safe and he’s okay and Silas isn’t bleeding. He isn’t in pain.

Silas is sitting on the floor, back against the side of Wren’s bed, head tipped back against the mattress. Wren is curled up nearby, his hand in Silas’ hair, and he’s reading quietly, something Silas isn’t really following, fixated as he is on the soft sound of his voice, on his strange, Wren accent. Silas has his face turned, cheek against grey sheets, watching Wren as he reads to him, holy, even more inhuman than Silas in his beauty. In the yellow glow of the lamplight, cast from Wren’s desk, his hair glows something golden and his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

It’s a good night.

It starts that way, anyway.

“You’re beautiful,” Silas says, because he’s beautiful and Silas is nothing if an honest, maybe blunt person.

Wren looks up at him and he wishes, for a moment, that he could draw like Wren can, because it’s a picture he’d like to remember and he doesn’t think he will. He doesn’t get to remember very much. But Wren smiles at him, soft and sweet, and Silas forgets about anything that doesn’t make him so pleasantly warm it makes him a little uneasy. “You’re not listening to me at all,” he says, “are you?”

“I’m kinda listening to you,” Silas says, “mostly I’m looking at you,” and Wren laughs, pushing his face away with the hand in his hair.

Silas turns his face back to try and bite his fingers and Wren laughs again, a sound that makes Silas feel so warm all over he might flush with it. Wren is beautiful, arguably, all the time — some really ugly things have happened to him, have been done to him, but Wren, at his core, interwoven into his DNA, is so beautiful that Silas sometimes has a hard time looking at him. It’s like staring too hard into surgical lights, too bright, it makes him see the same sort of spots. Wren’s always most beautiful when he laughs.

He doesn’t laugh often — not often enough, anyway. But Silas has gotten good at bringing it out in him, and he’s best at it when he doesn’t try. At the end of his life, when his brain is removed from this thing they’d turned him into and what little is left of him is destroyed, if they bother to ask him what his proudest accomplishment was, this is what he would say. That he got to make Wren laugh.

“Sorry,” Silas says against his knuckles, and he tries to bite him again and Wren bats him away with a smile that makes him dizzy.

“I don’t believe you are,” he says, and Silas can’t help the smile that pulls at his own mouth on one side.

“I’m not,” he agrees, and the way Wren laughs reverberates through his chest.

“I picked this for you because I thought it would hold your attention,” he says, and the way he smiles at Silas would probably give Silas a headache if he let it.

“I want you to read the one that Hal wanted you to read,” he suggests, just because Wren keeps telling him no.

“No,” Wren says, predictable, and Silas smiles against his knuckles. “Hal wasn’t being nice. You won’t like it.”

“I’ll like anything if you read it to me,” Silas says.

Wren has a very peculiar way of looking at him sometimes, soft and sweet, eyebrows pulled together in the middle. He looks at him like that now, and it warms Silas in almost the same way his laughter does, even if he doesn’t quite know what it means. “Not Frankenstein,” he says, but he laughs again when Silas ducks his head and obligingly presses a kiss to his hairline. “You’re cute,” he says with a smile, “but still no. I’d read you anything else.”

“Just not what I want,” he says, and Wren laughs.

“You don’t even know what it is!” He protests, which makes Silas grin, despite his best, most valiant attempts not to. “You just like to argue with me.”

“I like to do everything with you,” Silas says, kissing his knuckles.

Wren snorts out a laugh as he pushes his face away again. “Shut up,” he says, and he says it with a sort of fondness that makes Silas’ chest constrict. He reaches towards him because he can’t help himself, grabbing Wren around the waist and hauling him off the edge of the mattress. Wren laughs again and Silas smiles properly. “What are you doing?”

Silas pulls him into his lap. “You’re not close enough.”

“No?” Wren says, and he puts on the voice he uses when Silas is in trouble but his smile is blinding and he leans his weight into Silas’ chest, arms around his shoulders. Silas’ hands span the entirety of Wren’s back and Wren is looking at him really closely, a little pink across the bridge of his nose. His hand on Silas’ cheek is almost painfully gentle.

He’s so close. “You’re beautiful,” Silas says again, because he is, and it bears repeating. “Even more beautiful up close.”

He’s so close Silas can see perfectly well the way he flushes, pink, beneath a splattering of freckles Silas only ever sees when they’re this close. It makes him grin, which makes Wren laugh again, pinching his cheek. “Shut up.”

But he’s so close. He’s so close that Silas can see freckles splattered across his face, clustered closest across the bridge of his nose and along his hairline. He’s so pale, and his hair is so light, but his eyes are so dark, and they’re huge, and he’s so beautiful but Silas has thought it’s given him a surreal sort of quality, that sometimes he looks even less human than Silas. “More than beautiful,” he says softly, because he doesn’t quite know how to put it into words. “Extraordinary.”

Wren angles his head and his smile takes on an odd sort of softness that never fails to make Silas’ face feel hot. “You’re too sweet to me,” he murmurs.

It’s kind of a dumb thing to say. “I’m in love with you,” he says softly, because he thought as much was obvious.

He can feel the way Wren’s breath hitches against his chest, and that’s all the time he gets before it all goes to hell.

The door is kicked open with a force that makes it sound like it’s been blown to pieces. Wren flinches with his entire body and Silas holds him protectively to his chest without even really thinking about it. A man called London, with an accent Silas doesn’t like, stands in the doorway and his lip curls back from his teeth as he looks down at them, his gun at the ready against his chest.

To Wren, he says, “I thought we told you no dogs in your room.”

“No dogs on the bed,” Silas says, and if his eyebrows lift, challenging, he can’t help it. “I’m not on the bed.”

London’s lip curls back a little further. “Common room,” he barks, accent grating. “Both of you. Let’s go.”

“Why?” Silas says.

“A talking dog,” London remarks, sharp. “One that talks back. How peculiar.”

Silas starts to lift both his middle fingers and Wren quickly pushes his hands back down. “We’re coming,” he says, and he says it in the weird, kind of saccharine voice he only ever uses with the soldiers.

Except London’s gun is still drawn. Except London isn’t wearing the usual black tactile uniform of the soldiers on patrol. He’s wearing a black uniform only Silas has ever seen, because it’s the black uniform the soldiers only ever wear in active combat. Whatever’s waiting for them out there, it isn’t good.

“Wren,” he says softly.

“Silas,” Wren pleads, even quieter. “Please.”

Silas grunts, but Wren had said please so Silas would’ve been obedient if he’d asked him to amputate his other leg. He heaves himself up, into his chair, and follows close at Wren’s back. London falls into step at Wren’s side, and tells him, “beastiality doesn’t suit you.”

Silas says, in his best imitation of London’s accent, “cunt.”

London pivots and hammers the barrel end of his assault rifle into Silas’ hollow eye socket in one, fluid motion. Something in his face, something that feels like his cheekbone cracks under his skin and he grunts in pain.

Wren starts to gasp, “Silas,” but London silences him with a snap of his gloved fingers and a crude point.

“Move,” he snaps.

Wren turns towards him anyway. “Silas —“

From the end of the corridor, from the common room, Hal’s voice says, “Silas?”

Silas stops trying to dry his bleeding eye socket with his sleeve. The throbbing headache of his broken cheekbone dulls to a beat drowned out by the roar of his heartbeat. Being summoned from his room in the middle of the night is one thing. Wren being summoned, too, by a soldier in full combat uniform is another. Hal also being called on —

Wren feels it, too, because his hand finds Silas’ arm and his fingers are shaking. “Hal?”

“Wren? What the fuck is going on?” Hal calls.

London growls, “move.”

Wren looks down at Silas, who turns his head to kiss his sleeve, as soothing as he can manage.

He should’ve grabbed his fuckin’ leg. He’s still new to needing it — to feeling this fuckin’ helpless without it. What’s going to happen to them? How is he going to get Wren out of it with one fuckin’ leg?

Hal isn’t alone in the common room. He’s standing with Robin and June, huddled close in a space crowded with soldiers. Every one of them is dressed in full combat uniform.

Point stands proudest among them, and he looks up with a grin.

Silas groans. He can’t help it.

Wren pinches him through his sleeve. “What is this?” He asks softly, not quite looking at Point, who looks at him intently and like a predator.

With another lecherous grin, he says, “field trip.”

Wren makes a sound that would probably be amused in any other situation. “What?”

“Field trip?” June repeats.

Point holds up a hand, quieting her without looking at her. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he says. “Let’s move, soldiers.”

And the whole thing is kind of surreal, clouded by Silas’ worsening concussion and broken orbital socket, pooling with blood. Hal, June, and Robin are led down a different corridor than Wren and Silas; Wren and Silas, flanked on all sides by soldiers and Point, are led to a service elevator.

Silas, in all his years in the district, has never been outside. This isn’t really any different.

The service elevator lifts them to a section of the district like any other — dimly lit, chipped grey concrete. Down a corridor, a huge metal grate had been lifted out of the way, opened to the back of an armoured van, doors closed and secured.

It’s Point, of course, that unlatches and opens these doors to the back of the van. It’s crowded with soldiers, with Point’s favourite men, crammed on the benches lined along the inside, standing along the back. Point jumps up into the van and whirls back around with a bizarre sort of flourish. “The girl will ride with me,” he announces. “Animal transport will be up next for the dog.”

Wren’s voice has gone flat, but his accent is probably the thickest Silas has ever heard it when he says, “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Point grins with all his teeth and he looks even less human than Silas. “You know I don’t kid ‘bout you, cowgirl,” he says, mocking, and Wren takes a quick step back, knocking into Silas. “I ain’t playin’ with you, neither. Get on up here.” He pats his thighs, beckoning.

“Fuck you,” Wren says, but his voice sounds brittle and his accent sounds even thicker. Silas curls a protective hand around his hip.

“C’mere, girl,” Point says, and whistles, patting his thighs again. “C’mere.”

“Fuck you, I’m not getting in the rape van,” Wren snaps, and Point’s jovial mocking drops off his face. It’s like he’s been wiped clean, replaced by something totally and uncomfortably blank.

“You’ll do whatever I fucking tell you to do,” he deadpans, “or I’ll make your dog bite the bumper and you’ll be forced to watch as I crack his ugly head in half. And then I’ll fuck you anyway, mm?”

He takes a step back down from the van and Wren’s whole body tenses. Silas pulls him close, into his lap, away from Point, who pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start with me, freak,” he says. “I don’t want to kill you while I’m hard. Give me the girl.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo,” Silas tells him, and something twitches in Point’s jaw.

“You’re a failed fucking science experiment,” he snaps. “An crippled fucking dog. A waste of fucking skin, and I fuck your girl better than you do. Give her here.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “I’ll tell you what, Darren,” he says, and Point’s eye twitches, this time. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Silas,” Wren breathes.

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. He angles his head at a soldier standing close, Haunt, who quickly lifts his gun and shoves the barrel hard against the nape of Silas’ neck.

Whatever, what’s another gun to the head? But Wren gasps, reacts, human, and he’s distracted just long enough that London’s able to grab him by the arms and haul him out of Silas’ lap.

Time warps. Slows down.

Wren screams.

Point grabs him around the waist, lifting him off his feet as he struggles.

Silas reaches for him and he’s stabbed quickly in the throat.

It happens so quickly that his crewneck is already sticking to his chest before it even starts to hurt. Then the pain starts to gurgle at the back of his mouth, sucked into his chest as he takes a wet, choking breath in. Point doesn’t look at him as he opens his jugular, but he looks up with a grin as Silas bleeds, wrenching the buck knife out of Adam’s apple. A rush of blood follows the blade, and Silas’ prison greys are already black, soaked with blood.

He thinks his ears are ringing, but when the blood stops rushing he realizes Wren is screaming and Point is laughing at a garbled, cackling pitch.

“I was waiting for you to try something,” he cackles. “You’re getting predictable, Silas.”

Silas raises a hand to the wound and his shaky fingers dip into the opened meat of his throat, gagging him.

With an ease that makes him gag in much the same way, Point pulls Wren’s hands behind his back and lifts him as he struggles. He throws him into the back of the van, onto the floor between the benches, and as soon as Wren hits the ground, face down, a soldier steps down hard on the back of his head, pinning him. Wren screams bloody murder and it sounds nothing like blood rushing in his ears.

A different soldier peels down Wren’s waistband with the toe of his boot and the way Wren screams echoes between Silas’ ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It makes him vomit, but he doesn’t know blood or bile, but most of it seeps from his opened throat and only a mouthful makes it to his tongue, long numb and useless.

Point pats his cheek twice, hard, and Silas vomits into his lap. His chin finds his chest and he doesn’t have the strength to lift it off again. “You’ll follow in the med van,” he says, and Silas hears him in odd bits and pieces. Somebody close is making horrible, wet gasping sounds and he has a really sick feeling it’s him. “And you’ll be good as new by the time we get where we’re going. We got a long ride ahead of us.” Silas can’t see anything except blurry red spots, but he doesn’t need to see Point to know he’s grinning when he says, “your girl��s gonna be in good hands the whole time. Don’t you worry.” He knocks Silas over the back of his head and his laugh is a cackle.

Silas doesn’t see it, but he can hear Point jump into the back of the van. There’s some kind of sound that follows it, skin on skin. Wren sobs loudly and Silas vomits down his chest. “Alright, girl,” he says, loud and theatrical, probably more for Silas than Wren, in a sour, mocking version of Wren’s accent. There’s a creak of the hinges as he grabs at the doors. “Time to get fuckin’.”

The doors close loudly and something in the sound feels like a bullet to the brain, a sudden, sharp explosion of pain that ricochets behind Silas’ eyes.

He doesn’t remember anything else for the next three days.

[lumizwrld]

ＰＲＯＦＥＳＳＩＯＮＡＬ✯

"I love, you love. This love, we're professional..."

➢ !Dom¡ Ryohei Arisu ♥︎ Afro-Latina Reader

☕︎ word count ・3.2k (This late ass lil Valentine's Day smut, I'm so mad bc I wanted to post this on valentines Day but I ended up changing some things around.♥︎) GIF~ @jeongjinman

⚠︎NSFW WARNING⚠︎

cw ✐ outside the borderland universe, valentines day sex, shy arisu turning into dom, sensual, passionate, roughness, dirty talking, teasing, arisu eating reader out, cowgirl, missionary, reverse cowgirl, swallowing, submissive reader, moaning, whimpering, groaning, arisu being a good boyfriend, only Arisu Ryohei's perspective

✍︎ Summary = Not only had it been Valentine's Day, but it was also the day that Arisu showed his all to you. Being your boyfriend of just 1 year, he wanted to end this Valentine's Day off with a banger. As you're met with his surprise, you also find him hiding away from you (knowing his cowardness). After met, you encountered with his aggression, his frustration with himself, handing it all out to you in the most sinful way. ✧

It felt like she was never going to walk through that door, time unexpectedly reached a standstill lingering for her urgently to open that door and die from the death-defining adornment of all my love scattered through the apartment loft.

Anxious, I spent hours trying to find the best-looking outfit I could find and made sure it was her favorite color. Midori, the creation of yellow and blue. A green dress suit that complimented black pants and a pair of dress shoes embodied on me. I only desired perfection yet, she wouldn't want it any different. She would be happy even if I wore black sweats and a white t-shirt. From what I can recall earlier, she preached, “Please don’t go overboard about today, when I come back home, let's just smoke and lay in each other's arms? That could be our lil Valentine's Day right there." however, I feel like sometimes she doesn’t know how tenacious I can be when I listen to her.

Call it crazy, I was never the type to do anything so grand as this. Granted, I’m best with my hands yet I’d never expected to create an outbreak of devotion to her. Petals of roses scattered all over the floor, the flame of the candles shining so bright like an August day, inhaling the air of romance in the atmosphere, and centering the stage with her favorite songs faintly singing their way throughout the place….

God, she's gonna kill me…

“Shit Y/N, stop making me panic like crazy just hurry please…” I prayed in my head, disregarding the fact that the more I kept my eyes on the door the more I’d be tempted to faint. “C’mon baby, make it home quick.”

Pacing, fidgeting of fingers as I tried to ignore how nervous I was. “Shit.” I groaned to myself, placing my arms behind my head. For a moment, I thought I heard keys fidgeting at the door. Anxiety rushed all over me again, striding toward the door and then taking a slight step back.

“Fuck,” I groaned, “I-I can’t do this…” I uttered in my head.

“Baby I’m home-“ She spoke before being astounded at the place. I could sense her soft footsteps kissing the floor, loving every moment of this affection. Nonetheless, I hid in the master bathroom. Heart pulsating out my chest, I had no clue why I felt terrified to meet her.

She drives me crazy, I hate the way I get with her…

I hate that she tenses me up without doing absolutely anything to me…

Her gentle voice sang out my name yet I refused. It was guilt, agitation, and love fighting in my body right now. I couldn’t regulate to move.

“Ryohei? Where are you amor come out,” She questioned, sauntering up the stairs to the bedroom. “Baby you don’t understand how in love I am with the place. You didn’t have to do this.”

“G-Give me a second hani, I-I’m in the bathroom.” I notified her, head thrown into my palms as I elongated a groan.

“Hey…” She expressed, embracing her body against the bathroom door. “Don’t hide from me. Don’t be nervous baby, I love what you did. Thank you for that.”

A weak giggle flew from my lips, “Hani I’m fine I swear. I just had to use the bathroom that’s all. You love it huh?”

I could hear her voice pitch up scarcely, chuckling while battling to open the door for me. “Ryohei c’mon, I wanna see you.”

Hesitated, my hands trembling as if the temperature plunged in the room. I held my breath for an instant, my hand reaching out for the knob. A slight turn for the lock, gradually opening the door was all I needed to do before her eyes lit with a thousand stars.

“Hi…” I spoke, shoving my hands in my pockets as her eyes scrutinized my frame.

“You went all out for me,” She confessed, creeping closer to me with her hands elevated towards my chest. “You look so handsome cariño, oh my god…” She adored, inclining her head against my neck.

“I’m sorry for-“

“I know it’s okay, you went all out for me I know this probably overwhelmed you.”

“I just feel like I made this awkward now. I hid away from you and it’s like…I’ve been waiting for you all day you don’t understand mama I-

How swiftly, her lips shut my doubts up. Her fingers, locked themselves up behind my waist. Her tongue, communicating with mine. She made me melt in her embrace, I didn’t know where to position my hands. It was so bad how this kiss instantly made me desperate for her.

My head tilted inwards, permitting her hand to crawl up my back to the strands of my hair. She certainly knew for a fact that this was all gonna be in her control yet, I desired things to change for a second. Her free hand seizes my neck as her kisses trailed down my lips to my jawline. I guess this was her turn to show me her devotion to me cause, it had me to a point where it illustrated all over my face how badly I wanted to touch her beautiful body. All her pent from work, relieved from my bare hands. Even though she was always the one to command, I yearned for this to be all about her.

“How was work baby?” I communicated, my hand going for the back of her head as she made love to my neck.

“It was slow, but…All I thought about was you. I couldn't wait to get here.”

“That's…” I spoke before sighing at her gentle bites. “Good to hear baby, I've just been doing this all day.”

“I can tell, you do love me.” She whispered in my ear. Kissing it gradually, she was luring me deeply into her pool of lust.

“C’mon baby, let me take this off you.” I offered, taking her coat off. As she became free from the restriction of her puffer coat, her hands latched onto my entire body. “Baby, it's okay you don't gotta rush.”

“It's not me rushing, you deserve this.”

“I deserve this? All I did was just show you how much you mean to me, you always show me how much you love me. Granted I do, but I wanna do it in a form-”

I could feel her taking the lead, slowly walking back to the bed as she clung to me. “Mi amor, you talk too damn much. Just look pretty and let me do everything okay?”

I giggled, “Alright don't fuck with me like that."

She giggled in unison, “You’re everything to me. I love you, but you need to realize how much you are worth. You're worth every fucking thing on this planet.”

I guess this was it.

I guess this is where it ends.

All this shyness, is gone.

I guess, this was where I made a mark.

I pushed her onto the bed, leaping on top of her frame. My hands grasping her neck as if she disrespected every inch of me. This went along with a harsh, desperate kiss.

I heard a whimper, yet that didn't cross my mind at all. I could tell she was surprised with every bit of emotion rushing throughout her body in this moment. Mainly, I was focused on one thing.

“Nobody’s ever told me that before until I met you. You love me too damn much, that's one thing I fucking hate about you. I hate how you make me feel this way and don't let me do anything in return.” I spoke right in her ear, her pants in mine as a form of a response.

“Ryohei…” She sighed.

“I want you,” I demanded, finding my way down my belt buckle. “I want you to let me do everything.”

Her hands reached on my belt, supporting me with unbuckling. Crazy, it seemed like I had her wrapped around my finger.

Assertive, her hand went inside my pants.

Heart felt, the way I spoke in her ear.

Temptation, her hands trying not to go any further.

“I won't stop you at all.”

“Y/N…”

“Do it please, I promise I won't stop you.”

Her desperate hands found me in my boxers, exposing myself on her own. Her kisses deprived my lips again, this time with a sense of belonging to be submitted to me.

Her defeat, she wanted this from me all along.

So in my response...

Don't hold this back, let it out….

First, it was me losing myself in between her legs.

Her thighs were gripped with my cold hands as I kissed the lips of her deprived pussy, darting into her eyes while I licked her sensitive clit. She felt the exhilaration instantly, her hands lost in my hair as she whimpered for me to slow down and stop. Still, such a beautiful woman who doesn't know how hard-headed I can be.

"Fuck." She moaned, "Ryohei just like that, lick me like that."

I answered her demands, licking her til she would see stars while I had my free hand teasing the entrance of her hymen. Entreating her right, she kept trying to close her legs yet I retained them open with all my might.

"You're all in my mouth." I teased, "All in my mouth."

She winced, panting at my fingers fucking her, imitating what I had planned for in a moment. Her begs and cries, all in my ear like a siren luring in a sailor. She had me hypnotized.

"I've never been so jealous of fingers in my life." I teased once again, "Mama, why are you holding yourself back?"

"I-I'm not."

"No?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Why are you lying to me?" I spoke, inching myself up to her face. "Don't lie to me."

I then lost myself in her eyes, brushing her hair from her cheeks. Nobody said anything, just a swift grab from her back, switching positions that transitioned this moment.

Her warm skin was positioned on top of me as her hand latched on my chest while straining to place me inside her. Her eyes revealed all her lust, how she begged for me without even saying a word. Gradually, she consumed all of me. Songs in unison, allowing me to thrust deep inside her warmth. It was as if this was the last day we'd be together. Who would have known, I'd be the one in control of this.

“Hold my hands mama, let me help you.” I panted, observing her lustful face as her body fucked with mine. “Nobody can hear you let it out for me baby.”

“Don't say that Ryohei.” She moaned, tossing her head back.

“Why?” I conversed, “The way I'm talking to you, does it bother you?”

“You know exactly what you're doing.” She groaned, vigorously grinding herself to the profound thrusts I provided.

“Tell me then, what am I exactly doing then? Speak to me mama, tell me what I'm doing to you.” Overstimulated, her hands released mine and grasped on my neck. This encouragement I gave was gonna finish with something grand I persisted to myself. However, it seemed like even when this is finished. She's gonna want more.

My cold hands rushed to her nipples, caressing them with gentle squeezes. The evil giggles she made that were intended with lust filled my ears, moaning afterward when I brought her close for me to suck on.

“I want you on top.” She panted faintly.

“What did you say?” I questioned, slowing my strokes.

“Please,” She panted, “Get on top of me.”

My eyes dilated, soon switching positions. She looked so innocent, like a porcelain doll. So fragile if I were to even touch her, she’d break. My arms found themselves beside her head as she held the support placing me inside her again. Silk soft legs, trapping me around my waist as a so-called embrace.

“Is this a trap?”

“What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Aggressive, I thrusted once. Her gasp left her lips however before getting just a slight exhale, I placed my index finger right inside her needy mouth. Creeping myself closer to her face, she was like a model, a sight of pure beauty to me. This was all mine.

All of her was mine...

All of mines, to ruin...

Sounds of sin, the aroma of sex, the sloppiest of kisses, the sensing of sweaty skin, all at once could be seen as a form of art. My hand went from her lips to fondling her chin as the other maintained my balance, compelling her to look directly into my eyes as I slowly stroked up the pace.

“You want it like this baby?” I moaned, observing her surrender her beautiful body to me. "Tell me your beautiful thoughts I promise it won't hurt to just tell me."

“I-I can’t,” She panted, straining to fuck me in unison. “Control me fuck, I feel like such a whore Ryohei I'm sorry-”

“No no, fuck me like a whore then, don’t be scared baby. Show me how much of whore you can be to me.” I encouraged her, leaving her to snatch my hand and kiss my fingers, slowly suckling them.

“Ruin me, ruin me.” she entreated. First my thumb, then my index finger along with my middle. She replicated what she would do to me, It was to a point where I could die right from how much of a slut I turned her into. Neediness overfilling her eyes as she wished for me to cum...

Was it bad that I faintly felt it?

“Ruin? Did I bother you too much hani? I'm sorry, that's all my fault. Isn't it?” I giggled, moaning afterward.

“Don’t apologize,” she panted, removing my damp hair that began to cover my eyes from the thrusting. “I love everything you’re doing to me.”

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you looked today. Mama is this what you want from me?" I intended, my lips inches away from hers. "Yes, this is what you want, right? You want me to talk to you like this when I fuck you like this baby? Tell me I know you do." Brown profound eyes, darting right into her soul as she hesitates to choose which action to make, panting or moaning her heart out of the pleasurable feeling of me penetrating her swollen pussy. Her grip was so strong I couldn't help but moan to her embrace on it.

Her eyes were in such worry yet, smiling like a complete slut at my weakness. Her right hand on my neck, resisting herself to combust from me. “Keep talking like that and I swear I’ll cum all on you.”

“Do it, mark all the things that belong to you. Mark your territory baby, cum on my dick.” I intended, deepening my penetration to hit her where it hurts.

Her head was sunken into the pillow and her hand that existed on my neck soon felt her body. Rushing hands, all on her breast. Generously squeezing her nipple to the stimulation, god it was all my fault she acted this way with me. Her luscious lips were soon bitten. I could tell she was starting to feel her climax.

“I…I can’t…Ryohei…” She moaned, arching her back leaving me to slide my hand under. Obtaining her close, I departed subtle kisses on her neck down to her chest.

“Do everything on me. Like I said before, show me how much of a slut I turned you into.” I groaned, maneuvering my head to her deprived breasts, brushing her finger away to allow placement of my tongue on her nipples. Sucking passionately, I offered her soft bites to signify my admiration to her breast instead of just her pussy and her lips. And so, just when I thought this session would last for a while longer, I winced at myself gaining a strong sense of sensitivity. “Tell me where you want me to cum mama, give me what you want.”

She panted, “No, no don’t do it yet, please. I wanna keep going please, don’t stop Ryohei please.”

I awed, “I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? You want more of me huh?”

“S-Shut up.”

“Shut up? Mama think before you speak. You said you love everything I’m doing, right?” I taunted, pulling out of her. “You told me to ruin you, don’t take back anything.”

“R-Ryohei why did you-”

She found herself on top of me again, this time her eyes darting to the ceiling. My grip, so profound, and down on the stands of her hair, her back arched to the tension. Devouring, her needy pussy embracing my dick made my body rush with nerves. God, I’d loved to watch her fuck me if we placed mirrors on the ceiling. Observing her face full of pain from my thrusts, her perky nipples all alone likewise yet the hypnotic bouncing would be such a movie I’d reminisce every single fucking day.

“Lose yourself to me Y/N, let me be the only one to see you like this. I wanna be the only one to make you this filthy.”

The exertion she had was overwhelming mine, I felt depleted to where I lost grasp of her hair. She sensed me discharging, “Amor, please. Don’t stop please, let me help you.” She pleaded, going on all fours. “I need you.”

The minute she slid up, I directly jerked up from the sensation on my tip. Yet, she never left that spot. I worshiped every moment, her pussy fucking my tip knowing damn well she desired for me to cum.

“You want it inside you mama? Advise me.” I demanded, seizing her arms and bearing them back aggressively, gasping on her back. “Let me do it inside you, let me cum inside you.”

“Do it then Ryohei, let it out please.”

“Y/N, I'm starting to...W-Wait I feel it.”

My eyes latched, throwing my head back as I moaned as loud with all the strength I still had.

Yet, this feeling only grew stronger.

Grasping my hair, I couldn’t help to sustain my body from all this pleasure.

But, once I opened my eyes. Her beautiful eyes were met with mine, but her mouth was full of me.

“I thought…I thought I came inside you….” I huffed, wincing at her subtly licking me.

“You really did lose yourself." She giggled, following her tongue down my shaft.

“Fuck,” I huffed, “You're an evil woman y’know?”

“Yeah, you know I love you right?”

“Uh-huh”

Her tongue had found a home on my dick, licking my hardened tip as she motionlessly kept her gaze on me. “Good, I want you to remember that.” She grinned, spitting on it as she watched me jolt up again.

“Y-Y/N!?…” Whines, the pain yet pleasure filled my soul. Seizing her hair, I forcefully fucked myself into her filthy mouth for a moment. “That’s what you wanted huh? All of me in your mouth right like this?”

Her soft giggles flew in the air, “Yeah, it seems like you wanted it more than me.”

I soon hauled her up to my face, kissing her passionately as I released her from my grasp.

Once again, she got on top of me but soon began wrapping the covers on us. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I spoke, caressing her in my arms as I kissed her forehead. “God, you took everything outta me.”

As we snuggled in each other’s arms, it went silent. Taking in this void of quietness, my lips soon parted those soft, heavenly words of...

“Hani, I forgot to tell you once you got home...Happy Valentine’s Day.♥︎"

[slyvester101]

Now look, I could just make the rvb cast whatever power ranger color I wanted based off of the colors of their suits in the original show and call it a day, but it’s so much more interesting if I use official power ranger lore to pick their suits.

For example, Tucker is the Red Ranger. He’s the leader, the tactical planner, the one with the angst that motivates him to fight and train and do the best he can, the one who motivates the others when they’re feeling down, the first one to run into battle if it means saving someone, if it means saving one of them, even if it means sacrificing himself. But he’s also hot-headed and brash and doesn’t always think things through all the way and needs to be reeled in by his team a lot.

Caboose is Yellow, chipper and friendly guy he is, it’s only natural. He’s their heavy hitter, but also their heart. He reminds them of the things worth fighting for, keeps them from getting too lost in the violence of it all. He’s a bright spot, sometimes literally, in the drab world they are constantly finding themselves in (he is very good for Tucker too, since he knows how to cheer him up when he’s feeling sad about Wash).

Similarly, Donut is Pink. He’s their enthusiasm, the mediator, the one who always wants to try talking to the bad guy before they beat their asses into the ground, the one who’s compassion is often mistaken for weakness (which couldn’t be farther from the truth). He’s the one who’s fully doing this for the greater good from the beginning, taking on the charge of earth’s protector with honor and glee. But he’s also just as likely to get wrapped up in the hype of the battle, to get way into his head with all the hero shit. He’s also the one who will lose all battle prowess the minute one of his teammates get hurt.

Church is Green, the one who has to learn how to take this seriously, the one who has to learn just how his actions impact people, how his slack and how his stubbornness against improving (both as a ranger and as a person) hurts himself and his team. This starts as a game to him, a quick one and done that he can leave the minute it gets too much, but then the realization of just how important their role as rangers is settles in and it freaks him out. But he’s also their caution and calculation. He comes up with plans with Tucker, can notice little things about opponents and use it against them. He acts all nonchalant about it, but he’s a key component to taking down a bad guy and polishing up the hectic plans Tucker often brews up.

Grif is Gold (“It’s fucking orange!”). He’s their voice of reason and Tucker’s second. He’s also pushed into fighting since his sister lives in the city and he can’t let anything happen to her. He keeps everyone on task, keeps them from getting into their heads with the whole hero schtick. He reminds them that they’re still normal fucking people trying to save the world, so they’re gonna mess up and make mistakes so just accept that and do better next time. But he also complains during training and annoys the fuck out of Tucker because it takes him like, two tries before he masters something before he decides he’s done and leaves. Just wait for the day when Grif will have to try a bit harder to get the results he wants and cowers away because no matter what he says, he’s scared of failing.

Simmons is Blue. He’s their wit and the one who figures out how to do the power ranger ability shit first (it’s on accident, but still). He’s not always good at the abilities or using the weapons, but he does almost always discover them and teaches the others how to make the combined final weapon they can use to destroy the villain of the week’s first form. He’s also the one who tries to upgrade their shit and makes the Red Battlizer form for Tucker. He may not be the strongest or the fastest or tactically savvy, but he can make things like this and can blast a bad guy back with his new ion canyon without getting into close quarters. He promises he can be useful, just give him a chance. 

[mummers-of-the-heart]

To My Dearest One (Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader)

Premise: Leon comes home after a mission.

Sad Vibes/Slight Comfort, Song fic

Word count: 1072

Content warning: Not beta read or really edited if I'm honest. Vague Infinite Darkness and RE6 spoilers. Leon and his whole deal, especially post-RE4 stuff. Depression. Isolation. Implied suicidal thoughts. Reader is sort of a living emotional crutch for Leon. Also reader is not quite all right. I can't write domestic fluff for the life of me. Look, the grammar is going to be a mess, I constantly switch between using APA, AP, and MLA on a regular basis for professional stuff. My brain is gonna zone out here.

Song fic time and first time writing Leon. Came up with the idea while I was studying for my interrogation test for history and I had a concert where this song was performed playing in the background. Finished writing this in between studying for my psych exam in a couple days. Hope you enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Song: Itoshiki Hito E (To My Dearest One) by Kotobuki Reiji (CV: Morikubo Showtaro), Translation by Utapri No Sekai (slight variation by me)

The apartment is quiet besides the sounds of light music and cooking as he enters. Despite living there for a few years, it lacks much character causing it to feel hollow. One of the only things proving that it was Leon's apartment was the sun damaged photos, yellowed with time.

One of them from years ago as he visited Sherry on her birthday. The smile on the girl's face. Claire.

It all felt so distant.

Everything grew out of reach. Nothing seemed to last for a broken man, especially for one who had the bright sparkle in his eyes beaten out so violently.

As he approaches the kitchen, the smell of onion and herbs wafting through the air, Leon notices the nostalgic yellow tinted light that colors the white walls.

At the stove-top was a familiar figure standing before a pot of soup.

You.

A heart made of glass is always... hurting anything that tries to touch it. Yet you embrace it so tight without fear.

His arms wrap around your waist as his head sits upon yours in this rehearsed dance. He smells your shampoo as he takes a deep breath.

"Welcome back, Leon.” You say in a light tone as if he wasn't gone for a little over a week. "I'm making tortellini soup tonight."

He can hear how much you missed him. Even if you don't say it, those feelings tinge your voice.

"Mmm," he sighs with closed eyes, "That sounds good. Haven't had that in awhile."

Leon’s hold on you is strong. He wants to savor the moment.

There’s an itch in the back of his mind; one that would never leave. That this relationship would only hurt you. That he was taking advantage of your kindness. That he could never express just how much he loved the sense of normalcy you brought.

As if sensing his emotions, you quietly grab his left hand with a softness Leon wasn’t used to feeling.

Your hands were light compared to his calloused hands, which were covered in blood. Regrets marred his digits.

The plush feeling of your lips is unfamiliar to his inner wrist. This intimate touch caused Leon to melt.

A simple touch, a simple act, a simple situation in your eyes but it doesn’t feel so simple to him.

A clink as the spoon is set down. You turn around to face him.

But such happiness is sometimes, through cruelty of God, suddenly in front of my eyes… disappears and it makes me so scared.

The look in your eyes, how greatly it contrasted the steely eyes he would see everyday. Fresh eyes that didn’t twist with fear, changed. Not hardened by painful experiences. The look in your eyes is different.

Tired but understanding.

It is something that Leon was grateful for. A calm in a life that he felt so little choice or support in. A happiness from not feeling alone.

A deep hunger satiated but it caused a fear to rise.

What if you saw what he faces everyday? What if you got hurt even more than before? What if… you left?

They kept scratching at the back of his mind.

I live only for your sake. This voice will take an oath, to my dearest one.

Night carried on. Dinner came and went. No discussion of his work.

The ticking of the clock counting down the seconds before the feeling of the mattress would soon greet the two of you. The nighttime routine felt so unfamiliar. He was a stranger to this domestic moment.

“Apparently Sara,” your coworker, Leon had to remind himself as you spoke, “had decided to drag me out while you were gone. Saying that I was being too focused on work again.”

You roll your eyes in a familiar manner as you wipe the skin of your face with a cloth. There’s a soft, tired look, one that is aware of reality.

“Right.” Leon responds. “I already know you were hunched over your desk, typing away at a proposal looking like Gollum." He chuckles as he remembers the first time he saw you at work.

“Hey.” You pout cutely in response, before sitting on the bathroom counter and sighing. “Let me see your face.”

You put out your hand expectantly and he obliges as he puts his chin in your hand. Reaching with your other to grab his cloth and wetting it with water, you smile sweetly with the look that Leon loved.

A careful caress with the cloth as you clean his face. Your thumb traces over faint scars, reminders of the memories he can never escape. There’s a tightening in his heart at this touch.

As you finish and wring out the cloth, you turn back to face him still sitting on the counter. The softness of your hand shifts to cradle the side of his face.

In response, he lifts your chin with his fingers and gives that charming smile of his. “I have the world in my hands.”

“Not sure about that.” You reply softly. “Pretty sure I got it in mine.”

As you get into bed, due to a learned habit after living with Leon for four months, get into the side of the bed away from the door. He lies across from you and lets out a heavy sigh, as he feels exhaustion wash over him.

His hand finds its way to your waist as the light turns off. Leon’s face burrows itself in the crook of your neck, like something was commanding him to get as close as possible to you. To find the core to the warmth. The rhythm of your breath, a lullaby, gently sends him to sleep as his fingers curl atop your skin slightly.

Even at that moment, the scratching turned into digging.

Your eyes heavy and on the verge of the precipice, a whisper drifts from Leon’s lips as he is asleep.

“My only… Make me happy when…”

Will it be sent to you? Will it be conveyed? Words will never be enough… for this feeling of mine, to my dearest one.

By the time the rays of the sun bounce off your gentle skin, Leon is awake and doesn’t move as he watches you sleep peacefully. A smile creeps onto his face as he notices a line of drool.

In that moment, the man, who long lost his faith and wishes, says a silent prayer.

AN: Like what you read? Consider reblogging or leaving a comment. Thanks for reading.

[createserenity]

A really random and boring observation about Good Omens

At this point I’m just spotting new weirdness every time I go looking for screenshots of the previous weirdness I was looking at.

This one is with the double yellow lines and how they fade in and out seemingly at random. I’ve tried to explain the inconsistency away, but this is a set not a real road and the lines shouldn’t do what they do. It’s also not due to water because although yellow lines on the road can show up more when the road is wet quite often the wet patches on the road in GO are right over where the lines should be and they are still really faint. If the lines were painted on they’ve either had to repaint them in order to make them inconsistent or the lines are CGI-ed (which I think they might be because sometimes they look like they aren’t quite real) and they are either making a mistake with the CGI or are deliberately brightening and dimming the lines.

Anyway here’s timeline of what I mean (under the cut):

Episode 1:

The double yellow lines are there. Also we are flown right under the car when Crowley arrives, which seems like an unnecessarily complicated camera move if they aren’t trying to draw attention to the road surface in some way.

Anyway the lines stick around at this level of brightness until the end of the episode.

Episode 2:

The angels arrive. The lines are quite patchy but I think brighter than before.

When Crowley and Aziraphale leave the pub the lines are very light to the point where you can’t see them at all behind the Bentley.

They’ve pretty much gone entirely when Crowley walks to the Bentley at the end of the episode during the “our car” scene.

Oh, but wait suddenly they’re super bright (and the street is much wetter).

And oops, they’ve gone again (and the street is dry).

Episode 3:

Jim looks out the window. Notice how the street is wet around the gutters where the lines should be but they aren’t there, so it’s not wet=the lines are brighter.

Aziraphale leaves and there’s a hint of the lines and the parking space on the left. This is the faintest they have been.

They sort of fade in a bit more as he drives away. This is what makes me think they are CGI.

Then we come to Shax visiting the bookshop, which happens later that day. Look at those lines now! The brightest they ever appear, on both sides of the road (and the space is clearly marked as well).

Episode 4:

The next day Aziraphale returns from Edinburgh to brightly painted lines although not as bright as they were the day before, especially not around the parking space which looks more worn and dirty than it should, particularly since the street is wet (and in combination with his bizarre parking I wrote about here this seems really odd to me).

Episode 5:

Crowley arrives before they invite people to the meeting and the lines are there but not as bright as in the Shax scene, although this might be due to the lighting, which is very bright here and might be washing them out.

We only get a few more brief glimpses, when Jim goes to jump out the window, when Ms Cheng heads to the ball and when Mrs Sandwich heads to the ball, which is the clearest example. Notice how the lines aren’t dirty at all here.

Episode 6:

The next time we really see the lines is all the way at the end of the series when Crowley takes Maggie and Nina out of the bookshop. They’re bright, but dirty and patchy (we saw them clean with Mrs Sandwich just a few hours before).

They stay bright when Aziraphale is leaving with the Metatron – look how clean they are again.

Then Crowley drives away and the lines are dirty and scuffed again.

Why might this be?

Well if the lines are painted on the set then some of the dirtiness and scuffing might just be due to the fact that the scenes will be filmed out of order and the constant moving of equipment, cars and people might have made them dirty over time. This doesn’t explain the times when the lines are barely there though. What might explain that is post production lighting, where they turn up the brightness of the scene so much it washes the lines out and no one worries about it because they aren’t an important detail. It could also be a CGI mistake where they are generating the lines post production and the software isn't quite generating them properly and doesn't know how much to darken/brighten them depending on how wet the road is and also varies the dirt and fading ebcause its generating them fresh for each new scene. I don't know enough about CGI to really comment on the likelihood of this!

I should add, I don’t like set wear as an explanation, in particular because it takes months of use and exposure to weather for yellow lines in real life to show that much wear and this is an indoor set so I don’t think it’s what’s happening.

I tried to fit in the brightness of the lines to in-world explanations such as whether Aziraphale is in the bookshop or not. Or how much danger is around at the time. Or whether there are demons present or not. None of those seemed to work, but I'm not very good at correlating things like that so maybe someone else could fit them into something. The only explanation I could come up with that fits is that it’s a mistake or time in the GO universe isn’t working properly. So basicallly this post was just to point out the weirdness. If someone else can fit it in to an actual explanation I'd love to know what it is. Or maybe it's all just a filming error?

Anyway, now I've got that out of my system I'm going back to relationship dynamics in my next post. 😂

[dacialogansuperfan]

megarod fic under the cut

rated e

also edited & posted on ao3

when megatron says “i haven’t done this in years. i haven’t wanted to do this in years,” rodimus prepares for it to be… not necessarily bad, he doesn’t think it could be – just getting to see megatron like that – open, vulnerable – will be worth it. but maybe not good either.

mostly, that warm, syrupy feeling sliding down his spinal strut at the thought that he’s the first mech in millennia to make megatron want keeps him from feeling too disappointed. he lets megatron set the pace, back him up against the bulkhead and tip his helm back into a slow kiss with a shockingly gentle hand under his chin.

for a while, that’s all they do. soft, exploratory kisses become deep, sensual drags of lip plates against each other, over his jaw and under, a hint of teeth against neck cabling. rodimus almost forgets there’s the promise of more, lost in the building charge crackling between megatron’s mouth and his own rapidly heating plating, until strong hands slide under his thighs and lift him bodily off the ground.

he doesn’t yelp, and even if he had, there’s no way megatron heard it over the clatter of their armour colliding, the screech of metal scraping against metal as his thighs are guided around megatron’s hips, so there’s no reason for him to be laughing.

ok, maybe it’s not so much a laugh as a quiet chuckle, one that rumbles through his chest and all the way down to rodimus’ pedes, but rodimus smacks him anyway, hand coming down to rest on one broad shoulder. the other hovers awkwardly at his side, floating in the air until one of megatron’s – much larger, primus – lifts away from his thigh to wrap fully around it.

rodimus turns his head to watch his hand disappear into the curl of megatron’s, bright yellow paint eclipsed under a cover of scuffed, matte black. if he focuses, he can feel every unmended dent and scratch, is so absorbed in it that he doesn’t notice megatron moving until his back hits the berth. gently, with megatron’s other hand curled around his helm to keep it from smacking against the criminally underpadded recharge slab megatron has the audacity to call a berth.

rodimus’ eyes snap back to megatron’s. a lopsided curl to his lips, not quite a smile, but enough to soften the deep, dark red of his optics.

(rodimus sometimes wonders if the subroutines for actual smiling were permanently deleted from megatron’s processor after sitting unused for millions of years. he’d tease him about it if he didn’t suspect it, just a little, of being true)

he’s quiet for a little too long, staring at megatron and forgetting to do anything with his face. the almost-smile slips from megatron’s lips, his hand squeezing rodimus’ where their fingers are still tangled loosely together against the berth.

“still good?” spoken so softly, megatron’s weight and heat inching backwards, giving rodimus the space to push him away. he doesn’t think he’s ever heard megatron this quiet, the whisper smoothing out the rasp in his voice, leaving a pleasantly low rumble. a shiver passes through rodimus, and he brings his arm up to clutch at megatron’s waist. oh yeah, definitely still good.

still, he grins up at megatron, says “what do you mean still? we haven’t even started yet,” going for that exasperated look megatron gives him with less frequency now, which only makes him feel like he has to work harder to earn it.

if he gets it he can’t tell, megatron’s mouth pressed insistently to his almost as soon as he gets the words out. there’s nothing hesitant about this kiss, firm and almost desperate from the start. the heat between them skyrockets, megatron’s hands hot over his plating, running from his arms to over his chest, sliding down his waist like his need to touch is overwhelming his ability to decide where first.

rodimus gasps when sharp denta nip at his bottom lip, his fingers sliding down megatron’s chest and coming to grip just under the armour, hooked into the panel just above his vents. megatron groans, and the sound vibrates from rodimus’ fingers up his arms, leaves him jittery and wanting more.

he teases the fingers of one hand in between the slats and megatron shudders, his lips sliding hot over rodimus’ cheek, open in a pant. it’s intensely gratifying, and rodimus is about to do it again until those lips move down, brushing over his spoiler before a hot, wet glossa licks a wide stripe across the guard and rodimus shouts.

in retaliation, rodimus hooks the fingers of his other hand in as well and tugs, pulling a low moan of out megatron and crushing their chests together.

megatron is shaking over him, and while at first rodimus is sure it’s in pleasure, and he won, he realizes a half-second later the afthole is laughing again. it may or may not have taken him a bit to realize because through his chuckles, megaton has started rubbing circles on the inside of rodimus’ thigh with his thumb.

“rodimus, it’s not a competition.” he can’t see megatron’s face from where it’s tucked into the crook of his neck, warm breath ghosting over the cabling there, drawing small shivers from his frame, but he can hear the slag eating grin.  

“the pit it isn’t.” sliding one hand free from under megatron’s chest, he brings it down between his legs, cupping the panel there and feeling the heat radiating from it. “also, i’m totally winning.” megatron says nothing, but bites down just a little rougher on his neck, pinching a cable between his teeth, creasing it. rodimus groans, his back arching up off the berth before megatron’s grip on his thigh pushes him back down again.

“primus.” rodimus curses when megatron’s lips move back to his spoiler, his tongue dragging a path across it that has rodimus’ whole frame shaking, but he doesn’t linger. his mouth moves down rodimus’ chest, soft kisses over plating and long teasing licks to transformation seams a contrast that has his processor spinning, optics heavy lidded as he watches megaton make his way down his frame until his lips brush over his panel and – oh, frag – come away wet.

he hadn’t even noticed when he’d started leaking, tracks of lubricant smeared around the edges of his panel and spotting his thighs, and he hasn’t even opened his fragging panel yet.

he would be embarrassed about that, maybe – he can’t see what state megatron is in, and his hand slid away from megatron’s hips when he began his descent down rodimus’ body and ended up curled in the thin cover laid over the berth – except.   

except megatron is looking up at him through optics blown wide with a desire so intense it pins rodimus to the berth, his whole body still as he watches megatron’s optics cycle to their widest setting, heavy lidded as his tongue moves slowly, torturously over lip plates slick with rodimus’ fluids, like he can’t bear to miss a single drop.

rodimus tries to say something. his vocalizer clicks once, twice, before rebooting entirely. the air between them fills with the heavy, stagnant haze of both their vents running at full speed and managing to do nothing but push the superheated air in circles around them.

megatron lowers his lips to rodimus array cover again and, lip plates dragging over sensitive seams manages a hoarse “please,” that nearly sends rodimus into a full system failure. his panel snaps open with a quiet click that is inaudible over their roaring fans.

one of megatron’s hands cups rodimus’ thigh, lifts it to bring it up over his shoulder. rodimus gets the hint and moves his other leg to mirror it, thighs clenching once around megatron’s helm before relaxing. megatron’s other hand rests on his hip, for now just stroking the plating in soothing, abstract patterns until rodimus relaxes fully and, propped up on his elbows, gives megatron a brisk nod. his stupid vocalizer is still running sudden restart debugging routines.

the first touch of megatron’s glossa to his array is a soft, broad stoke over the slit of his valve. rodimus shivers, already struggling to hold himself up but needing to see the way megatron shudders, his optics sliding shut as he repeats the motion, this time flicking his tongue over rodimus’ anterior node. rodimus’ thighs tighten around his helm, but megatron barely seems to notice. he looks completely blissed out, like he’s the one getting his valve eaten out.

megatron’s tongue pushes past the folds of his valve, sweeping upwards, seeking sensor clusters that light up under his tongue and send a feedback loop of charge through megatron’s mouth and every concentric ring in rodimus’ valve.

his head hits the berth with a loud crash he barely notices as megatron’s tongue continues its exploration of his valve, hot and wet and almost perfect, he just needs –

his vocalizer comes back online with a loud click and he’s shouting, arching up off the berth and then curling forward as megatron pulls back to suck on his anterior node, a soft suction and brush of tongue. rodimus’ hands fly to his shoulders, scramble against his back as megatron moves between his node and his valve, alternating long, broad swipes of his tongue with teasing licks.

his hand lands on the turret on megatron’s back and he grips it tight, keeping his hold on it when megatron’s strong servos push him back to lie flat on the berth again before he starts tongue fucking him in earnest, glossa pushing as deep into his valve as it can go. calipers cling at it as it moves back, rodimus’ valve desperately trying to clench down.

megatron releases his hips to bring a hand up to his array, thumb brushing over his node while megatron’s tongue is buried inside him. rodimus thinks he shouts, thinks he’s been making humiliating noises this whole time but can’t actually be bothered to care. he uses his grip on megatron’s turret to push his hips up into megatron’s mouth, start a dirty grind that pushes that sinfully talented glossa even deeper, and megatron moans. that powerful engine sends the sound all through rodimus’ frame, shaking his legs over megatron’s shoulders, vibrating his tongue inside rodimus’ valve and suddenly his overload is crashing into him, head thrown back, optics glitching, megatron’s name on his lips.

pleasure crawls over his plating, runs through every line for what feels like an eternity before he finally starts to come down, and realizes several things all at once.

one, his thighs have a death grip on megatron’s helm, enough to have dented it.

two, ditto for the turret. his fingers have left long, gauging scratches in it.

three, megatron is covered, obscenely covered in a heady mix of trasfluid and lubricant, rodimus’ transfluid and lubricant, coating his mouth, nose, and chin, except for the places where megatron is currently licking it away. rodimus is similarly debauched, which might have escaped his notice for a somewhat humiliating amount of time while he stared at megatron if not for the fact that the mech himself had started cleaning the inside of rodimus’ thigh with his tongue.

when he can finally speak again, he goes with “haven’t done this in years my aft.”

megatron’s optics cycle slowly, lazily as they flicker between rodimus’ eyes and his array. his tongue gives one final, soft lick over the swollen mesh that makes rodimus’ shiver before his levers himself up, rodimus’ strutless legs falling from his shoulders to rest in the crook of his elbows.

“it’s true.” at rodimus’ skeptic look he just shrugs, one of those massive shoulders lifting up and jostling rodimus’ leg. megatron slides his palm from ankle joint to the inside of rodimus’ knee, using a light grip to tug rodimus forward on the berth, until they’re pressed chest to chest again. his optics, the low, rough tone of his voice dripping satisfaction when he continues, “i will admit to thinking about doing that recently. often.” they’re kissing again before rodimus can even begin to think of something suitably clever to say to that.

at the feeling of hot, hard metal against his inner thigh rodimus breaks away with a gasp, hands flying away from megatron’s shoulders and down his frame, knuckles brushing against the ridged, interlocking panels of a thick spike, already slick with pre fluid. megatron shudders above him, whole frame rocking forward, catching himself against the birth just before his weight crashes into rodimus.

rodimus grins, relishing the broken sound that leaves the strained vocalizer of the massive mech above him at the first real stoke of his curled fingers.

“that can’t be all you’ve been thinking about, big guy.” a breathless laugh, tumbling into a low groan when rodmus’ thumb swipes over the head. megatron’s servos come back up to cup his thighs again, already mechhandling rodimus so he can fit between his spread legs, one massive knee propped in between them on the berth.

“no, captain, we’re just getting started.”

[beabnormal24]

I couldn’t resist it, I need your opinion on this little snippet from Chapter one of my new Charlos fic, which will come out as soon as possible.

Let me know what you think!

Chapter I

The apartment is quiet when they finally make it through the threshold, Charles’ icy joints creaking painfully once the comfortable warmth of the thermostat slips under the hems of his coat.

The lights are on, though, he notices when Pierre shoulders past him, grumpily stomping towards the bathroom.

Yuki is sitting in the farthest corner of the couch, headphones on and eyes wide open staring at the screen of his computer where there’s a purple coding line looking right back at him. Charles would bet money that he hasn’t blinked in at least ten minutes.

But Yuki is not the only person in the room, weirdly. The kitchen’s light is on as well, yellow neons casting mellow orange shadows on the living room’s pavement, reaching his toes where he’s finally slipped his shoes off.

Charles raises his head, confused for only a single second about the fourth unfamiliar figure sitting at their table.

“Oh, hi Carlos.”

Carlos blinks up at him slowly, the end of a blue ballpoint pen trapped between his teeth as he becomes aware of Charles standing not too far away from him, still leaning against the door as he takes his coat off.

His eyes are half lidded from what Charles can assume must be tiredness, if the rich collection of textbooks and notes scattered all over the table’s surface is enough of an answer, but he still smiles big and bright at him, like Charles has just brought him the greatest news ever.

“Hi, Charles!” He says back. The pen falls from his lips, hitting the open notebook between his arms, but he doesn’t seem to care a bit. Sharls, he’ll never get his name quite right, sometimes it’s an even worse pronunciation than Yuki’s one. But it’s also endearing, a bit. “How are you? Did you have a good night out? Had fun?”

Charles cringes at the thought of the recent events, stomach twisting with the residues of an – allegedly – good lasagna that he had had to pay for on his own after refusing yet another proposal of a one-night stand. He almost has half a mind to snap and scream a bit, let it all out, throw punches at the ceiling or perhaps tug at the ends of his hair that has grown longer over time - which would also be a bitter reminder of how many months have passed since he has been able to visit back home and get a good haircut from his mom’s neat fingers.

His patience is hanging on to a branch that’s barely holding out to the tree of his self-control, and the cocktail of anxiety from the nearing midterm projects, the pencils he should’ve bought yesterday instead of staring at his notes for two hours longer than he had planned and the unfortunate encounters that never seem to fail him lately, the whole deal about professors never being clear with their requests, is almost enough for him to ignore Carlos’ question altogether and follow Pierre’s stomping to the bathroom.

But dipping his cold hands under a hot stream of water wouldn’t be that good for his articulations. Besides, Carlos’ curiosity is genuine, much like always snd Charles doesn’t like to be a dick with people who don’t deserve it, which usually doesn’t include Pierre.

“Eh, alright, could’ve been better.” He shrugs indifferently, the half admission slipping effortlessly out of his mouth.

Yuki doesn’t react to that, but the roll of his impossibly dry eyes doesn’t exactly go unnoticed.

A frown appears in the crease between Carlos’ eyebrows, probably sensing the thick sarcasm that threatens to flow from below his tongue, but Charles is quick to talk over him before he can add anything else. “Studying with Pierre?” He asks, reaching with a hand behind his neck to finally untie his scarf.

The question couldn’t be more stupid, for sure, and Yuki lets him know with another silent roll of his eyes. It’s not unusual for Carlos to be sitting at their kitchen table, more so ever since he and Pierre have found out about their mutual interest in anything sports related, apart from their shared classes.

Charles doesn’t really know much about him, except for the fact that he’s a fierce Real’s fan, that he’s from Spain and that he moved to London for his Master degree after graduating in Economics-something-finance not more than a year ago, that he shouts too many curses in his mother language in front of the TV when some player misses a score – not that different from Pierre, on this aspect -, and that he’s some kind of a family friend of Lando and comes from money, as well.

Which doesn’t explain why he would prefer to spend time at their little apartment, where Yuki’s socks are still left unattended on the coffee table after three days and Charles’ sketches cover more than half of the windowsill and Pierre always forgets to turn the bathroom’s lights off. But Charles surely won’t be the one to complain about it when Carlos offers his cooking skills in exchange for their hospitality.

Yuki complains even less, for sure, being the one who mostly makes sure they’ll be having something at least edible for dinner. Whenever Carlos comes to their apartment, he likes to say that he’s finally off chef duty.

“Yes, Charles, we were studying.” Pierre’s tone is acidic, dripping with the bitterness of it when he comes back to the kitchen. As if on cue, the colder white light of the bathroom follows the back of his head like strobe light beams, hitting him square in the shoulders and the ruffled hair, strands pulled out by stressed fingers.

Charles would feel a bit bad about interrupting their studying session if he weren’t too distracted by the thought that they should really agree on a single color for lights in their home.

“Until someone decided to deem me as their personal taxi driver, no? ‘Cause they don’t seem to care at all about going out without making sure that they can come fucking back.”

“Pierre,” Charles hisses under his breath. From the corner of his eye, he can see Yuki pressing insistently on a button on his headphones. Something tells him it must be the volume. “Shut up.”

“Oh no, Charlie dear, I won’t shut up. I’ve told you that I had to study and yet-“

“Yes, I know! But I already apologized, what more do you want me to do?” He doesn’t know what language they’re yelling right now, a part of him really hopes it may be French, even though he knows Yuki will have a lot to complain about their ‘Speak English in common spaces’ rule. But there’s still another person in the kitchen with them, one that is currently looking from one side to the other, head bobbing towards who’s speaking like in a tennis match.

It’s not like he is embarrassed or anything, to be clear, but Pierre can get pretty nasty when he’s angry and stressed about exams, and Charles would rather not have Carlos as a spectator to that.

“I don’t know, maybe grow the fuck up? Stop going out and shit with people who clearly do not have the same intentions as you?”

Charles clenches his fists on either side of his hip. He can feel his nostrils starting to flare as he glares right back at Pierre, like they’re fourteen again and Pierre is telling him to drop the controller and stop acting like a crybaby.

It won’t last long, he knows, Charles is too attached to him to let stupid things like this get between them, and Pierre is too attached to him to not regret the words he spits out.

But right now, it’s an open battlefield.

“Don’t you dare tell me to grow the fuck up! You learn to shut off the freaking bathroom lights, then, and do your own laundry!”

Pierre twists his mouth to the side, blue eyes widening in fake surprise. “Oh, is that so now? Then why don’t you learn how to not burn everything you put on a stove? And maybe also get your driving license once and for all!”

Charles inhales sharply, letting out an outraged squeal that he would be probably feel abashed about if he weren’t busy with finding the right words to snap back at him. The driving license bit is a low blow even for Pierre.

It’s not even like he can do anything about it, when he lives abroad and there’s no way of him to get a car in London without leaving his mom and Arthur empty handed back home. Pierre is the only one with a car, because he has a shit ton of older brothers, differently from him.

But that’s not Charles fault.

“You prick!” He shouts back. “You know I can’t do that, and I can’t afford a fucking car!”

“Then you should learn how to drive mine, non? Instead of-“

“Guys.” Their heads snap around with matching confused frowns over their faces, the sound of that voice coming from an unfamiliar source. Even Yuki widens his eyes, going as far as raising his head up and away from the computer screen to stare at Carlos.

Carlos who had just interrupted their quarrel. Not even Max I-don’t-give-a-fuck Verstappen had tried to put himself in the middle of them that time they had started arguing about fries inside the burger or next to the burger.

Charles has to blink a few times to realize that it is Carlos, indeed. He must be much braver than he would’ve guessed.

“There’s no need to fight.” Carlos says, raising his hands up when Pierre narrows his eyes at him, probably ready to tell him off and unkindly inviting him to shut up. Ok, so they must’ve been speaking English, unless Carlos has started learning French all of a sudden. “I have a car, too, you know. It’s not like- a Ferrari or anything.”

Charles snorts. “Don’t worry, Pierre’s car is a piece of crap.”

“Charles, I swear-“

“Anyway.” Carlos starts again, raising an eyebrow. It’s almost a wonder how effective it is to make Pierre shut his mouth. Charles must learn from his tricks. “It’s a more than loved Golf, and if Pierre is too busy or anything, you can call me, and I’ll be more than glad to take it for a ride. I’m always at home anyway, or at the gym, so…”

The words take perhaps too much time for Charles to register them, because he’s still blinking astonished at Carlos while Pierre has already started shaking his head vehemently, Yuki’s eyes growing even wider.

“Absolutely not! He has to take his own responsibilities, Carlos. You can’t indulge him.”

“It’s not indulging, I just want to help.” Carlos protests, batting Pierre’s hands away when he tries to tap the pen on his head. “Stop it, cabrón.”

“And you stop with this-“

“Don’t you- don’t say that! I’m just being kind.”

“We all know why you’re trying to help.”

“Don’t say that!”

Pierre seems to finally relent just as Charles’ mind starts to process through whatever is happening. Pierre’s hands fall to his sides with a huff of frustration. “Alright” he exhales. “It’s your own problem to deal with, Carlos.” He says with finality, shoving Carlos’ pen in his pocket before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, where Charles can recognize notes covered in Pierre’s poor excuse of messy scribbles.

Well then, no room for further discussion when Pierre decides that it’s time for him to go back to studying. Charles couldn’t agree more, after all, the tiredness in his bones creeping up on him as he lets the harsh façade fall to the ground.

Pierre will be up and making him too sweet tea in the morning for breakfast to apologize, anyway. These things never last more than a night of sleep.

“Thank you very much, Carlos.” He finally manages to say, wrestling the pen out of Pierre’s pocket to give it back to him.

Carlos offers him the same big and bright smile as before, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he looks up at Charles from his seating position, leaning his chin on his hand. “No need to thank me. I am at your disposal as long as you’ll let me borrow your almonds.” He says, pointing with a thumb towards the open can in the middle of the table, leaning precariously against a calculator and a crumpled-up note.

“Yes, of course. I’ll buy you as many as you want.” He assures, taking a handful of them before popping one into his mouth. “Yuki?” Yuki opens his mouth at the sound of his own name, giving Charles two thumbs up when he manages to throw one exactly on top of his tongue.

“Impressive.” Carlos mumbles under his breath.

Pierre rolls his eyes to the ceiling, purposefully blocking the right side of his face with a hand to pretend being completely uninterested with whatever is happening around him.

“I’m going to shower, now.” Charles says, already walking down the corridor. “See, Pierre, you should learn a thing or two from Carlos about being a good friend.” He adds, throwing an almond at him. It lands between his eyebrows, sliding on the bridge of his nose before falling right on top of the open textbook under his eyes.

Pierre’s curses and Carlos’ laughter get muffled behind the closed door of the bathroom.