#really I need to figure out how to push value around more when I do faces - I've got a better hang of it for other stuff

[chiropteracupola]

slowly I'll learn to paint

[dahliakbs]

Retired Villain

(⁠ ๑Batfam X Reader - Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne and Tim Drakeﾉ⁠♡ ⁠)

Masterlist

╠You'd put your reckless lifestyle behind in favor of living a boring civilian life, knowing that you wouldn't get anywhere in life if you kept getting beaten up and sent to jail over and over like it was the only thing life had to offer.

You thought that putting your past behind you and creating yourself a fresh start would finally put the bats off your trail...

But sadly for you, it had only taken your cities vigilantes about two weeks to find out where you lived.

Even though they'd found out where you lived and how you'd decided to turn your life around they didn't believe it.

And instead of taking the information at face value they'd decided to check up on you in person.

And that they did.

Now you would've thought that they'd leave you alone after just the first few times but no, they'd started popping up everywhere. Using the excuse of your old atrocities to monitor you almost every waking moment of the day.

And when I say every I mean every.

Your at the supermarket, buying food like everyone else and Nightwing just randomly shows up out of nowhere. Bugging you and using the excuse of monitoring you to justify his presence.

"I know times are dire but stealing milk from the supermart?" you could see his outline in your peripheral, propping himself up against the fridge next to you.

He's shaking his head playfully before moving to take your cart away from you. You knew he was aware that you weren't gonna steal anything but apparently teasing you was his new favorite hobby.

"For the last time, I'm not stealing anything from this store" you huffed before dumping the carton of milk into the cart he'd taken from you.

"This store, so how about the next one?"

You could already feel the gray hairs sprouting, it was like he was sucking all the energy out of you and you could do nothing about it.

Well, at least he helped you with the shopping right?

While your on your way making your way to work one of the Robins will just mysteriously appear next to you, specifically the youngest one. Always giving off a clear air of distaste towards your entire being but still accompanying you on your way to work.

"Don't you have school kid?" you ask, it was like nine in the morning and he was casually walking next to you as if he didn't have somewhere to be right now.

"I don't need to go to school, besides I'm stuck monitoring criminals like you" he stated and you could already feel him drilling holes into the side of your head.

This kid really has no chill...

"Well if it makes you feel any better I also don't like having people watch me 24/7" you could feel your shoulders sag at the thought of having to put up with the bat and his tiny army of children.

Even when you were simply relaxing in your humble abode they'd still had the audacity come ruin your little alone time.

You were just relaxing in your pyjamas, munching on some popcorn and enjoying the fact that for once you were finally all by yourself when suddenly a figure hauls themselves over the edge of your window sill and crashes onto the floor of your apartment.

Of course your quick to push yourself off your couch and grab a weapon from the hidden compartment in your chair only to realize that your intruder was just another one of batman's minions.

"Red, you can't be serious" you immediately drop you weapon and walk over to his crumpled form.

He looked like he just went through hell, which was pretty sad since you knew he was just a kid on the inside but batman's sidekicks always seemed a little on the younger side.

"Are you crashing for the night?" He'd already done this before, always denying the fact that he was staying the night but always ends up staying anyway.

"No, I'm not" he muttered to himself, crumpling even more into himself but flinching when one of his wounds comes into contact with his detached gear.

"Right, your monitoring me" you played along, allowing him to believe that he was leaving anytime soon but you could already see his body relaxing it self.

"By the way, your crashing on the couch Tonight" you'd at least allow him to stay somewhere in your house, knowing that the supposed 'Batcave' that they always spoke about was somewhere on the other side of Gotham.

He should be lucky that he's your favorite, because ain't no way were you allowing any of the other bats anywhere near your house. Let alone inside of it.╣

[just-a-ghost00]

Their feelings and intentions towards you

In this reading we will try to figure out how the person you’re thinking about feels about you and what their intentions are. There will be three sections for each group :

1. How do they feel for you currently?

2. What are their intentions?

3. Advice on how to deal with this connection

The decks I will use are :

The White Numen tarot for the first two sections

The below the surface oracle deck and the Threads of fate deck for the last section

Group 1 - Saturn 🪐

1. Their feelings - knight of cups, king of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 4 of swords, knight of wands

This person is very serious when it comes to you. Their feelings are authentic, genuine. They're not playing games with you. They respect you and value you for who you are. They are grounded in how they perceive you and what they feel for you. This isn't just a whim, a little crush that will eventually fade away. No, this is solid and meant to last in their eyes. This person would tend to hide all of that deep beneath because they're unsure of how you feel toward them. They also feel very protective of you, intimidated in some way because their opinion of you is very high. You check all their boxes. They feel attracted to you both emotionally and physically. The numbers 4, 44 and 12 could be meaningful in this connection. They like to quietly stare at you when you're not looking, especially when you're working. They find your motivation and dedication very attractive. They feel safe with you and they can see in your gaze that you give importance to what they have to say, what they bring to the table. They feel curious, even more so when you're guarded around them.

2. Their intentions - Black Numen, King of pentacles, ace of swords, 10 of swords, The Emperor rx, The Moon

They would love to communicate with you and be honest about what they feel. But they don't think they're in a good mindset to do so. This person is facing a lot of hardships currently. They don't feel like they'd show you the best of them if they were to come forward right now. They don't want to look weak or out of balance in front of you. This person intends to keep their distance for now and hide from you the pain they're in. They wish to hide from you that an important cycle of their life is ending. They're waiting for this cycle to end to find an opportunity to be clear about what they want from this connection. They want to move on but they're aware that they need to heal first. This person is really mature and wouldn't do anything that would hurt you. They would rather be in pain than voluntarily cause you sorrow.

3. Advice - Higher perspective, 13 Dumbo Octopus - stop chasing, 33 spotted eagle ray - Let it go

Keep your distance from this person and give them the space to figure out a solution on their own. There's nothing you can control in this situation except for how it impacts you. If you keep pushing this person, you might get an outcome you won't be happy about. So leave it to them and the Universe. You have to trust that this person will take the best decision for them, no matter the outcome and you have to respect that. What you can do is also asking your guides for advice before making any irrational decision. By keeping your distance, I feel like you'll see this situation with more clarity. It's like taking a bird's eye view of what's going on. This person will come to you naturally when the time is right.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Group 2 - Sun and Moon 🌞🌛

1. Their feelings - page of swords, The Emperor, 6 of wands, Judgment, 5 of swords, 7 of wands

Not gonna lie, I don't get the best vibes for this group. It feels to me like this person wants to control you and keep you under their influence. They feel in control and pretty positive, because they know that you like them or that you can't deny them anything. For instance, if this person is your boss, they know that you wouldn't cross them or you wouldn't leave because you can't. So it gives them a lot of power and they're quite smug about it. They feel victorious, like a conquerer that has slain the beast. They have you under scrutiny. They watch your every move. They feel proud about themselves but also about you to some extent because you follow their lead well or they think you take after them. It's like they trained you well. They feel very combattive and possessive over you. They would litterally fight for you. If anyone comes near you, this person would snap. I get the feeling for some this person has acted behind your back to deter some people that were interested in you from interacting with you. They've withheld information to keep you in a state of neediness. They would bend the truth to their advantage. Like not telling you that a certain person likes you or that an opportunity has been presented to you. If it's business related, they speak in your name but not in your best interest. Like, imagine there's a superior that wants to entrust you with a project but since they're not sure if you're available or skilled enough, they go to this person for advice. And this person blatantly lies about your schedule or your skills, like "oh no this is too early for them, they're not ready for such a responsibility because this and that". And since they're influencial, nobody questions their input.

2. Their intentions - The Emperor, queen of cups, page of cups, The Star, 8 of swords, The Hermit

This is so twisted. Without any surprise, their intentions aren't the best for you. They want to keep you under their control and they intend to put you in a position of feeling compassion and gratitude for them to blind you and make sure you never leave their side. In some twisted way, this person "loves" you. Or at least they think they do. But really, they only love themselves and they want to use you to make them feel better. This person is tired of being alone at the top and they kinda want to create you in their image so that they're not alone and they have someone that gives credit to their BS. They hope that you can be their partner in crime. I'm getting serious god complex vibes and narcisstic tendencies from this person, this gives me the ick. They want to isolate you so that they can keep you to themselves like you're some kind of prized possession. One more trophy on their list of accomplishments. They're the kind of person that has weird fetishes. Like the kind of people that only entertains relationship with foreign people to convince others they're not a racist when clearly all they do is degrading this person and their culture. They're a fake friend, fake ally. They would litterally compliment you then manage to bring you down in the span of a few sentences. Like "oh yeah this person is so clever. Well people like them can only be that if they want to rob us of our jobs". Honestly they're so up their own arse the only thing they intend to do is to try to make themselves feel better by making you look pitiful. Ew.

3. Advice - The Wildling, Ask Body, 31 flying gurnard - Ask yourself if it's worth it

Cut the cord. Ask a healer to cut all ties with this person. Get them banned from your energy and life. Cleanse your body, spirit, heart from this person's presence. Set yourself free. Reclaim your power. You don't deserve what they put you through. Fight for your independence, your honor. Be smarter than them. Learn to see through the masks and read through the lines. Notice the patterns and swiftly move through the spider web they've been trying to weave around you. Invoke your spirit animal's help to kick them out of your life and protect you from their malevolent energy. The panther spirit could be relevent to you. I ask spirit to watch over you and keep you away from this person's evil doings.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Group 3 - Waxing gibbous moon🌔

1. Their feelings - Queen of cups, king of swords, The Magician, 10 of cups, 7 of cups, 2 of wands

Thank God we have a better energy in this group. They feel pretty postitively towards you. They feel hopeful and curious. They admire you and want to care for you. They have a lot of feelings for you. They consider you as a good option for them, especially because they think you'd be a good partner to have a family with. They envision a future with you. They are expectant when it comes to you because you keep them on their toes. You feel easy to read to them but also like a mystery they can't wait to unravel. They feel like you're magical and their destiny. They feel lucky and happy to be in your life and have you in theirs. They feel proud because you're a good person and they think they had a role to play in that. If group 2's person feelings were really toxic, this person only has your best interest at heart. They think of you highly and want to uplift you in every way they can. They want to support you, to celebrate you, to elevate you. They want to bring value to your essence and help you be the best version of yourself because they think you have a lot of potential. They view you as their equal but also as the missing piece to their puzzle. They feel like you would complement them and balance out their energies. They feel like you'd make a good team and that every moment spent with you is an adventure they're happy to experience. I have a very good feeling about this group.

2. Their intentions - 4 of wands, The Fool, Queen of cups, The Magician, 8 of cups, Page of cups

Out of the three groups, this one has the highest romantic potential. For some of you, this person wants to offer you commitment, possibly a proposal but if not they definitely want to have a lasting partnership with you. They intend to communicate their feelings and intentions, to make the connection evolve into something more solid. They're not afraid to make the first step and start anew with you, to discover you in a different setting, to get to know you even more. They intend to manifest you, to manifest a relationship with you. This person wants to move on with you and take things to a new level. They want to openly love you. They're tired of games and superficial relationships. They want something meaningful and they intend to work for it. This person is ready to be honest and authentic, to let you see them as they are, without any mask nor restraint. They wish to show you the good nature of their feelings and the best side of them. They want to appeal to you, to seduce you and win your heart and affection. Honestly they're so sweet. They could ask you out on a date, possibly a travel where there's water involved. I can picture people going to the beach, a water park or going kayaking on a river. Walking by a body of water during the Summer. For some I'm getting that this person has calculated everything to be able to cross paths with you on a specific day. And they would be like, "oh group 3! Fancy meeting you here, I didn't know you'd be there. Mind if I join you?" when clearly they've been waiting for this opportunity for days and they knew you'd be there, who you'd be with, when to approach you. For some I'm picking up on a sports event. Like a race or something. And you participate and they nonchalantly offer to be your team mate as if they weren't actually hoping for no one to be with you so that they could get closer lmao

3. Advice - The Alchemist, Power, 2 hermit crab - finding shelter, 43 koi fish - don't take life too seriously

Spirit is saying "go for it" ! They ask you not to resist what's happening because this is something both of you have been manifesting on a subconscious level. Both of you were hoping for such a connection that would be so carefree and uplifting. A connection where you wouldn't have to mind guess or be afraid of what the other's gonna do. They're saying that you can trust this person to be good to you. Some of you might think this is too good to be true or that your relationship might be "inappropriate" when it's just your destiny and the Universe's answer to your prayers. They say "there's nothing to be ashamed of" and "don't worry about others" because clearly you deserve it and that's all that should matter. Don't overthink this and just surrender to the blissful moments you may experience with them. Keep being optimistic and open to the energies around you. Be confident about your ability to be appealing to this person and keep them interested. Be confident about your personality, your looks, your skills. Because this person will only have eyes for you. Trust your intuition.

[seramilla]

May I propose that for a fun twist, that when Vaggie goes dress shopping with her mamá and hermanas she tries every single thing but the white just gives her the ick reminding her of Heaven a bit too much. So Carmilla picks out something unconventional for her. A red and black wedding dress…one that has a slit going up to her thigh that shows off the black lacey wedding garter.

Before meeting Charlie, the thought of "marriage" and "Vaggie" in the same sentence had never computed in Vaggie's mind. Even when she and Charlie had started dating, she hadn't been sure marriage was in the stars for her. It seemed like something other people did, but not her. But then Charlie had proposed to her, and Vaggie's entire outlook had been turned on its head. Vaggie had of course said yes, and now it's up to her to figure out what that means for herself.

The only problem is, Vaggie has no idea how to plan for a wedding, or what to even wear, for that matter. She's never been to one, and has no idea what the ceremony even entails. Thankfully, she now has a mother who had been married at one point when she was alive, and two older sisters more than willing to provide an...age-appropriate opinion, so that Carmilla doesn't get carried away, as mothers are often wont to do.

Don't get her wrong, Vaggie values Carmilla's opinion...she just thinks Odette and Clara might provide some much-needed...perspective. Carmilla was married a long time ago...and times have changed since then.

Case in point: Carmilla is old-school, and drags Vaggie, who is very nearly on the verge of puking, through a boutique stacked floor to ceiling with the most gaudy white and white-adjacent wedding gowns Vaggie thinks she's ever seen. Carmilla says it's tradition, and just the way things are usually done. White has been the color of choice for brides for generations of women -- mostly for reasons like tradition, symbolism, personal preference, and just carrying down the same outfits from generation to generation.

The only problem is, Vaggie hates white. Hates it. It reminds her of Heaven and empty platitudes and purity culture and asshole nobles who had called her and the other Exorcists "ruffians" for not embracing the typical snow-white and pastel attire adorned by almost everyone else up there.

Vaggie tries on a few white and lighter-colored dresses, because she loves Carmilla, and a part of her really wants Carmilla's approval in this. But after about the fourth or fifth one, she can feel the bile creeping up the back of her throat at the thought of trying on another. When Carmilla tries to shove the next dress into her arms, Vaggie puts her foot down.

"Mama!" Vaggie huffs, pushing the next dress away. "Look...I really appreciate you wanting to help me, but I just don't like any of this stuff. Isn't there something that doesn't make me look so...angelic?"

"Give it up, Mama," Clara says, doing her best not to laugh at Carmilla's "How-Dare-You!" expression. Odette covers her mouth in amusement, also trying not to laugh. The overlord is simply doing her best...but Carmilla can be a little overbearing when it comes to shopping with her daughters. She has very strong opinions. Odette and Clara had tried to warn Vaggie beforehand, but the fallen angel is clearly discovering it now.

Carmilla sighs heavily. "All right. What colors do you want?"

Vaggie twiddles her fingers. It's a little embarrassing...but ever since meeting Charlie, the red aesthetic just does it for her. They both wear it so often at the hotel, that it's just become a part of her outfit rotation. She mentions to Carmilla, "Something red?"

Carmilla, "Hmmms" under her breath, looking around the store until something catches her eye. She then drags Clara and Odette along with her, as if to gauge their opinion on whatever she's found. A few minutes later, her mother and sisters return with a few different pieces. Carmilla likes one in particular more than the others...but again, Odette and Clara override her, saying there's way too many sequins and lace, and it's not flattering on Vaggie at all. They make their own suggestions, taking Vaggie's preferences into consideration.

Ultimately, Vaggie settles on a gorgeous red wedding dress, with black around the bust and inner lining, and a slit going up the side to expose a black lace garter underneath. Vaggie blushes to herself, just knowing instinctively Charlie will love it. Charlie loves red on her. She makes a mental note to help Charlie find a sexy red suit to match.

Odette and Clara go on the hunt for some matching accessories, and Vaggie honestly just wants to hug the two of them. Carmilla means well...and she did manage to find a pair of banger shoes to go along with the dress...but her sisters had really stepped up for her, in more ways than one. All in all, the family works together to make this process as enjoyable as possible, and come away with something that Vaggie, and Charlie, will appreciate for the rest of their lives.

Vaggie decides that even though she isn't much of a shopper, it's nice to be able to spend time together as a family like this. Even with all the little quirks and annoyances that go along with it. She will take the good and the bad. Because it's all part and parcel of finally having what she's always wanted most -- people who love her.

[xuune]

Hii first of all, I FUCKIN LOVE YOUR ART! ITS GORGEOUS AND IM SURE EVERYONE CAN UNDERSTAND YOU REALLY GIVE YOUR SOUL INTO THAT🤧 Your color palette looks so good, What do you pay attention to when painting? (Like when do you think its better to use multiply or something like that and etc.)

first off, I'M HAPPY YOU CAN TELL THAT I PUT MY SOUL INTO MY ART!!! im genuinely in love with drawing and am always finding ways to make creating art enjoyable and impress myself with what i can achieve and learn :D

second, thanks for asking your question!! i dont mind answering it, but my response is quite long. here's my thinking process:

(you specified layer modes like multiply, so im gonna gear my answer towards that a bit) 1. REFERENCE SEARCHING IS KING. color is actually extremely hard for me, so i search around for artworks with palettes i'd like to use and study how an artist uses it. some situations i have a clear idea of what i want, but usually the images in my head are extremely vague, so i borrow palettes from various other artworks that fit the vibe of what i want. an example is this one. my main palette reference were from these artworks. im looking at this artist's use of high saturates and how drawings are overlayed on top of each other. while looking at references, im asking myself how is this artist using warm/cools, where are these warm/cools placed, if their illustration used any form of texturing (like halftones, hatching), how do they use their palette to render form/shape/gradient, when/where do they saturate/desaturate their colors. those questions inform my decisions when using colors too.

2. USING LAYER MODES WHEN NECESSARY. i used to be reliant on multiply for everything, which atp i dont do since i can definitely push colors more first before using layer modes. only when i feel like my current colors are lacking do i start tinkering with tone curves and/or brightness/contrast/hue/saturation/luminosity settings. and if that doesn't work, then i start using layer modes. using layer modes do help with achieving certain effects, color corrections, or when i want to fuck around and find out. i think having a better understanding of what these modes can do makes you more decisive on how you can properly utilize them and to achieve a particular look (like using multiply for a cel shaded style). here's an example:

this leads into my next point:

3. BALANCING OUT VALUES. big thing that makes an illustration hard to read is if values blend together which affects the hues and contrast. i check for what elements need to be distinguished from one another and if it can be read clearly. using layer modes can either help with this or not help at all. it's very dependent on the type of layer mode. here's this example where i applied pin light:

back to #2, there are various instances where i'm using layer modes for quick color corrections and/or to help with readability:

other times, i start off having my entire subject in gray and to figure out main shadow/lights (similar to the multiply cel shaded process i linked ealier). im thinking about what this should look like if i only used 2 value tones:

when in doubt though, i check my artwork in grayscale to ensure values aren't overly blended into each other, especially if i didnt start with grayscale like this one:

painting for me takes into consideration a lot of different aspects. im thinking about how colors should interact, where/when to give contrast, checking/balancing out values, etc, but im also making it a time to study off of how other artists use their colors through the references i collected.

hope this answered your question! lmk if there's more :]

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (8)

Chapter Eight: Bad Territory

Gif by @rebekadjarin

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The group is divided, each side with a mission of their own to follow

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, angst, fluff, limited (y/n), Crosshair feeling left out, me making up how the Force can work/be used, more dancing around M-count things, and me making up a rough timeline

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's notes: Not gonna lie, I struggled a lot with this one for a variety of reasons but I hope people still like it! Thank you @burningfieldof-clover for your much needed and valued assistance during this!

Pabu

Omega sat on the steps of the Marauder anxiously tapping her boot as she stared at her commlink.

“You know staring at your comm won’t make Echo contact you any faster.” Crosshair told her as he approached.

Omega got to her feet with a sigh. “He and Rex lost most of their squad in that attack. All because the Empire was after me and (Y/N). I have to do something to help them.”

“You are. Follow (Y/N)’s example and keep staying away.” Crosshair said.

“Wow, I’ve never been used as a positive example before.”

Omega turned to see you and Hunter standing in the doorway of the Marauder.

“Crosshair’s right. We need to know more about why Hemlock’s after you and what his M-count experiments mean.” Hunter added. “Until then, you both have to lay low.” He said with a firm look at the two of you.

Hey, Omega is the priority here, not me.

“Don’t start with that.” Hunter chastised. “It’s a high chance that Hemlock being after Omega means he’s after you too, especially if M-counts are involved somehow.”

We don’t know that he’s after me specifically, I’ve always just had issues with any Imperial official. I’m more of a general Imperial threat. Me getting captured, I could wind up anywhere.

“That’s a very reassuring thought, thank you.” Hunter muttered sarcastically.

Besides, even when I handed myself in, I wasn’t sent to Tantiss so I might not even be on his radar since he seems to be looking for clones and not Jedi to test on. Omega is the one we know for sure that Hemlock is after.

“Hey! Incoming transmission. From Phee!” Wrecker came to tell the rest of you.

To be continued. You placed a chaste and pacifying kiss to his lips before you headed towards the cockpit.

“No, not to be continued, you’re laying low the same way Omega is!” Hunter called to your retreating figure before he too headed back in.

“They were arguing, and I didn’t hear a single word she said?” Crosshair as the two of you walked back inside.

“Hmm?” Omega stopped patting Batcher and then understood his question. “Oh that! You mean she hasn’t tried it with you yet?” Omega asked curiously. She’d honestly barely noticed the interaction; she was so used to moments like that now.

“Tried what?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s a Jedi communication thing.” Omega tried to explain but that was really all she could provide. “I don’t quite understand how it works but she does it with the rest of us. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d be able to do it to you too.”

“Right.” Crosshair said hesitantly, unsure as to what he could’ve done to make you think you couldn’t trust him with that. But he pushed that to the back of his mind for now before inquiring, “And Phee?”

“She’s a liberator of ancient wonders.” Omega said with an appropriate amount of showmanship.

Crosshair just stared at her unamused and not playing into the mystery she was trying to create.

“Pirate. She’s a pirate.” Omega admitted with a sigh.

How you lot had managed to make allies with a pirate was something he found himself wishing he’d been there to witness.

--

Wrecker put the transmission through.

“Hey Phee.” Omega said warmly.

“Hey kid.” Phee replied.

“What do you got for us?” Hunter asked.

“I’ve been asking around about this M-count thing, which hasn’t been easy, by the way. Tech’s brain was the data bank, not mine.”

The grief you were in constant battle with asked for another way in, but you let is wash over you as Phee continued to speak.

“But I came through. As always.”

“And what did you find out?” You asked.

“Word is, certain class one bounty hunters have been retrieving M-count target for the Empire.”

Again, you ruminated in your thoughts over this. Omega couldn’t have a high M-count, not in the way the Empire seemed to want, you’d know if she did. And it was all to do with clones, so it had to be something about their DNA specifically. “A high M-count signifies Force user potential. But that’s not got anything to do with you.” You added hastily as you saw Omega’s look of excitement. “So, why else would they need her if she has one?” You asked Phee.

“Don’t know. You’re better off asking a bounty hunter.” Phee replied.

“We have run into a few.” Hunter revealed.

“What about Fennec?” Omega suggested.

“Who?” Crosshair asked.

“Fennec Shand.” You said, your feelings about her made very clear by the distaste in your voice. “She was hired by Kaminoans to abduct Omega. Tried to pick me up along the way.”

“She might know something.” Omega said.

“She’s dangerous, but it might be our only option.” Hunter agreed and she definitely a better option compared to Cad Bane.

“I can probably track Fennec down for you.” Phee said. “But she’s not gonna hand over that information for free.”

“Naturally.” You and Crosshair said in the same wry tone.

But as he said that you, Hunter, and Omega noticed the way his hand began to tremor despite Crosshair’s efforts to stop and hide it.

“I gotta split. I’ll get back to you.” With that, Phee ended the transmission.

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” Wrecker said nervously to Hunter. “We can’t trust Fennec. Not around those two.”

“Agreed. You and I will go alone.”

“But-” Omega protested.

“Hold on-” You began to argue.

“This isn’t a debate.” Hunter said definitively. “Stay on Pabu and stay out of trouble. All of you.” He said to the three of you.

“Fine by me.” Crosshair drawled before he left the ship.

Hunter addressed the two of you once he’d gone, concern in his voice. “See if you can convince him to get his hand looked at. Ignoring it won’t make the problem go away.”

--

You walked back to the ship as you saw Hunter and Wrecker getting ready to depart.

“I already told you no.” Hunter said as you stood on the bottom of the door staircase.

“Hunter-”

“You and Fennec have a score to settle and I’m not going to tempt her with it. What we need to know is more important than that.”

“I know that but she’s dangerous and I don’t see how having someone else there to help would be such a bad idea.” You disputed.

Hunter went for another tact, “Did you hear Phee say the phrase ‘high M-count targets?’ ”

You ground out a sigh, “Yes.”

“And don’t you have one?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Did you hear that bounty hunters are being used to retrieve them?”

You shot him an exasperated look. “Yes.”

“Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You exhaled a defeated breath. “Yes.” You begrudgingly acknowledged.

“Good.” He came down a couple steps and placed both hands on your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. “We’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, you better.” You threatened but with a caring smile on your face. “I’ll see you soon.” You hopped off the stairs and watched the ship take off.

--

You rejoined Omega and Crosshair who were standing by the Wheeping Maya tree. “Sooo, what do we want to do today? Walk around, go for a boat ride, chill by the beach and talk about our feelings?” You broached casually. You couldn’t get away with making him sit down and push him into doing something about his hand- Omega had the better shot of using an approach like that. What you were doing fit the rhythm you and Crosshair had before everything in the galaxy went to shit.  

Crosshair ignored your suggestions. “You can help me train.” He said as he grabbed his rifle.

Omega glanced up at you to see if you wanted to say anything yet, but you only shook your head as you both followed him down to the beach cove.

--

“How’d you want to handle this?” Omega asked as Crosshair started prepping his scope.

I’ll open the door for you. Give us a few minutes.

--

“Target practice or hand-to-hand?” You asked as you reached him.

“Target.” Crosshair with a hard stare at you, warning you against any further unrelated conversation.

“I’m here to help as you requested.” You raised your hands in surrender, “I only ask because the most recent time you tried hand-to-hand; you got your ass handed to you.” You taunted as you made your way to your position and removing your lightsaber from your belt. “Now remember, the goal is to aim for me which finding the motivation for shouldn’t be too difficult.” Omega, when you hear the blaster fire stop, you’re up.

You weren’t facing him when you sensed the shot that was being aimed for the middle of your back. You ignited your lightsaber and blocked it on the half turn. “Hey, that was good!” You called back. “More like that and I might actually have to try!” You got into your stance and waited.

Crosshair heaved a sigh as he set himself again.

--

You disengaged your blade to signal that it was time to stop, and you lightly jogged over to where Crosshair was waiting. “Twenty shots, but only eleven I had to actually dodge or block… you really gotta sort that out, it’s not like you.”

Crosshair glared at you, “I forgot how annoying you were to train with.”

“Oh, I’m just the warmup.” You said with a knowing grin. “She’s the real challenge.” You nodded past his shoulder.

Crosshair followed your eyes, and he gulped as he saw Omega walking towards with gritty determination on her face. He already knew exactly how this was going to go.

--

Finding Fennec Shand hadn’t been very difficult, the hardest part now was getting her help without giving too much away.

“So, what kind of information can I help you with?” She asked, relaxing into the booth but she saw the wary look the two clones shared with each other. “See, the way this works is you tell me what intel or target you’re after, and I give you a price. So stop wasting my time.”

“We hear the Empire has a bounty out for M-count targets.” Hunter replied tentatively.

Fennec adjusted her posture. “Why do you wanna know about that? You trying to find your girl?” She looked at the helmeted clone who visibly tensed at her words. She sipped her drink. “She’s been quite the busy Jedi, nice price on her head too.”

“The why is our business.” Hunter said stiffly.

Fennec let the evasion slide and shrugged as she lounged back once more. “I haven’t done one of those jobs myself, but… I might know someone who has.”

“Can you put us in touch with them?” Hunter requested.

“Now that will definitely cost you.”

“How much?”

“More than you’ve got. But we might be able to work something out.” She took another gulp of her drink. “I’ve read your files from before.” She addressed the bigger clone, “You’re good with demolitions and ordnance, right?”

“Ha! ‘Good’? I’m the best.” Wrecker boasted proudly.

“And you’re the tracker.” Fennec said to the other one.

“What’s your point?” Hunter questioned warily.

“There’s a bounty I’ve been trying to bring in. Worth a lot. But he’s been hard to catch without a crew.”

“Oh, so you want us to work with you?” Wrecker sussed out.

“No. You’ll be working for me.” Fennec corrected. “You follow through, I’ll get you what you want to know.”

Hunter barely debated the situation in his head. Getting the information was all that mattered. “Deal.”

Fennec nodded and grabbed her stuff. “We’ll use my ship. And so we’re clear… I keep the payment on the bounty. All of it.”

--

Omega sat next to Crosshair whilst you crouched by Batcher’s side, absentmindedly petting the hound as AZ finished scanning Crosshair’s hand.

“How does your hand feel now?” AZ inquired.

“The same.” Crosshair grunted dejectedly as he massaged it with his good hand.

“Unfortunately, it may never heal 100%.”

“There’s nothing else you can do?” Omega appealed.

“I have exhausted all the medical treatment options. Perhaps the issue is not something physical.” AZ theorised.

“You think it’s in my head?” Crosshair hissed angrily.

“If you were to elaborate more on the experimentation you were subjected to, I could determine the cause.”

“Forget it.” Crosshair snapped as he shoved past the droid.

You jumped to your feet attempted to catch his arm, but he shrugged you off.

“Crosshair?” Omega called out to him as he left but he didn’t look back.

“If he won’t talk about it, I’m not sure how else we can help him.” You pondered anxiously.

“I have another idea.” Omega said. “But you need to be there too.”

--

“We’re working for her now? We don’t even trust her.” Wrecker whispered as he and Hunter stood in the back of Fennec’s ship. It wasn’t like Hunter to not think through the dangers of taking a job like this on.

“What choice do we have? We need that information. Just be ready for anything.” As soon as Hunter said that the door slid open, and Fennec appeared.

“We made a deal. I’m going to keep it as long as you hold up your end.” Fennec reminded the clones.

“Wanna tell us who it is we’re going after?” Hunter asked.

Fennec brought out the puck and activated the image. “Sylar Saris. ‘The Slayer od Ordo Eris’. One of the slipperiest marks around. Got a tip on his location.”

“Well, what did he do?” Wrecker asked.

“Hmm. Got greedy. Took out a couple top bosses for the Haxion Brood and escaped with a cache of credits. Powerful people want him found. The other hunters that went after him? Never came back.” She waited half a second before continuing, “Sylar knows the planet like the back of his claw. But eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.” Fennec turned off the puck as she finished the brief and retreated to the pilot seat.

--

You watched the line of fruit on the rock ahead as Crosshair raised his rifle, but his hand was still trembling, so his shot skimmed the top of the fruit he had been aiming for. You had thought a degree of normalcy was what he needed but now it was time for both you and Omega to push him- even a little bit. “That was close.” You said encouragingly.

“Close doesn’t count. It’s either a hit or miss.” Crosshair replied sharply.

“You’re still more capable than most.” Omega said with a soothing touch of his arm.

Crosshair only sighed and sat with his back against the rock. “That’s not good enough for a sniper.”

You and Omega both hopped up on the rock.

“Have you ever considered that AZ might be right?” You proposed slowly, your voice kind and gentle. You knew how hard accepting help with something like this could be and it couldn’t be rushed into.

“Whatever they did to you on Tantiss could’ve affected you more than you realise.” Omega backed up the suggestion in a similar tone.

“No. No, no. It’s not in my head.” Crosshair disagreed.

“Just because there’s nothing AZ can do, doesn’t mean your hand can’t get better.” Omega said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’re the one who has to fix it.”

Crosshair considered it. “How?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

Crosshair glanced over at you to see a familiar scheming smile on your face but there was a kindness to your eyes that told him you weren’t messing around with this. “I’m not gonna like it, am I?”

You and Omega shared a smile, “You don’t like anything.” You two said in unison as you left the rock.

“True.” Crosshair conceded with a sigh as he got to his feet.

--

The light was all but gone and between the toxic swamp air, the mines in the river, and the gators that attacked them, it had already been a trying journey and things weren’t getting much better since Hunter couldn’t get a proper read on the current anymore.

“Well, tracker? Which direction?” Fennec asked as she slowly steered the hired boat.

“The currents are too calm to tell.” Hunter admitted reluctantly.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you guys aren’t cut out for this job.” She said irritably.

“Oh. You think you could do better without us?” Wrecker challenged.

“I wouldn’t be doing any worse.”

“Well, (Y/N) got the best of you and even Omega managed to get away.”

“Apparently, they both got away from you too.” She watched as that clearly hit a mark with both of them. “So what happened? I know what your girl’s been up to, tracker, but what went down for her to get to that? And how’d you lose the kid?”

“What’s it to you?” Hunter deflected coldly as he pulled out his macro’s and searched ahead for any sign of Sylar’s safehouse.

“Just seems odd. You’re both willing to work for me, considering our past. That information must really be important to you.”

Hunter said nothing. He feared that anything he would say would give something more away.

“And just so you know, I didn’t lose Omega. I let her go when the bounty was called off.” Fennec informed them.

“By who?” Hunter asked, turning to look at her.

“The client. They thought Omega would be safer with you guys. Guess they were wrong about that.” She glanced between them both. “And your Jedi wasn’t worth the trouble since there wasn’t a set bounty on her at the time. Though, if I saw her again, with the price on her head that might change.” Fennec couldn’t help but goad. She scoffed as she saw the helmeted glare from the tracker.

“I guess you’ll work for anybody as long as you get paid.” Wrecker said with a hint of disgust.

“Good guys, bad guys. Their money is all the same.” Fennec said breezily.

“Well, money’s not everything.” Hunter said.

“That’s cause you don’t have any.”

Hunter couldn’t respond to that because there was nothing to argue against. He simply brought his binoculars back and scanned the water. “Someone came through here. Veer starboard up ahead.”

--

‘Slippery mark’ had been right. They’d been able to find his hideout but actually subduing Sylar had proven a far more difficult feat than anticipated.

In the end, it had taken a team effort from the three of them to knock out the insectoid and even then, it had taken four stun blasts to successfully managed it.

Wrecker released a breathless groan as he stepped over the target. “You were right to bring us along.”

“I’m always right. Grab him and let’s go.” Fennec instructed.

--

“If this is a Jedi technique, how is this going to help me?” Crosshair asked dubiously as he saw you and Omega sit cross-legged with your hands on your knees on a rock facing out to the sea, the orange sunset giving the water a warm purple hue.

“One, it’s not solely a Jedi technique because, as you can see, Omega does it.” You pointed out.

“But-”

“Two, I’m also out of practice so we can both learn together. Come and sit down.” You encouraged, patting the space between you and Omega.

Crosshair reluctantly mirrored both your positions. “So, this technique…”

“Mediation.” Omega reminded him. “It’ll help you heal. Not just your hand, but your mind too.”

“I doubt that.” Crosshair tried to follow the example of you two, but he couldn’t quiet his mind and his hand had started to shake again. He inhaled sharply as he felt Omega take a hold of it and turn it so that his palm was facing up.

You closed your own eyes and spoke calmly. “You need to breathe. Take slow, deep breaths and find your centre. Focus on yourself and what you’re feeling and accept it. Let it pass through you and don’t run away from it.” You guided him as you followed your own advice and found yourself becoming one with the living Force around you.

“And don’t compare yourself to her. It works slightly differently.” Omega told him.

Crosshair glanced at you from the corner of his eye to already see that you were completely at peace, and it looked like nothing could ever bring you out of it. “Where did you learn this? Did she teach you?” He asked Omega.

Omega kept her eyes shut as she replied, “No, she hadn’t done it until after I picked it up from my friend Gungi, and the other Wookies on Kashyyyk. But she helped me with it thereafter. I think she needed that moment again too.”

“You’ve been to Kashyyyk?”

“Uh huh.” Omega took another deep inhale and exhale. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I know.” Crosshair realised.

“Now, close your eyes and focus.” Omega repeated.

Crosshair did as you both suggested and let go.

--

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Fennec said as the clone departed her ship.

“Hang on.” Hunter turned on his heels. “You promised us information.”

“I didn’t say I had it on me, but I’ll get it. Ater I deliver Sylar to my client.”

“That’s not what we agreed on.” Hunter growled.

“You can either fight me or trust me. Take your pick.”

Hunter shared a look with Wrecker but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Good choice.” Fennec before she stepped into her ship and brought the ramp up.

Hunter and Wrecker could only watch her ship leave the station hangar. Having to trust the word of a bounty hunter was not the ideal situation they wanted to be or leave in.

--

Fennec put through the transmission and addressed the hologram.“I just finished a job with some clones. They were asking about the Empire’s M-count bounties. What can you tell me?” She digested the muffled chatter that came in response. “I’m sure you can find them easily enough. I’ll send you what I have.”

--

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), we’ve finished.” Omega shook your shoulder. “Come back.”

You jolted back to the current moment. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just wanted to tell you that Wrecker and Hunter are back.” Omega said as she stood back up. “How was it this time?” She asked you.

You exhaled deeply. “Better but I could still feel my focus drifting more than it used to.” Plus, no matter how often you trained in it, you had never gotten to see your master again and you were beginning to think it had been a one-time deal. If what you needed to talk to him again was to reach a certain level of emotional turmoil, you wouldn’t want to get to that place again. “How was it for you?”

“It was good.” She replied cheerily before she set off to meet up with Hunter and Wrecker, Batcher close at her heels.

“How’d it go?” You asked Crosshair as you got to your feet.

“Eh, I still don’t get it.” Crosshair grunted in reply.

You smiled understandingly at him. “It gets easier.”

“I know, I’ll keep trying.” He took a step in the direction Omega had gone but your voice stopped him.

“I’m not talking about the meditation.” You said softly as you grabbed his shoulder to turn him to face you. “I’m talking about dealing with whatever it was that happened to you.”

Crosshair cast his eyes to the ground. “I can’t tal-”

“Believe me, I understand how hard it can be to recount experiences like that, so I don’t expect you to, not any time soon. The second you wanted to; I would be there but that’s not what I’m saying right now.” You reassured him.

Crosshair regarded you carefully. “Then- then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that whatever you’re feeling, whatever memories in your head that are so fresh it feels like they’ll haunt you forever, it’s okay to feel them. And, while they may never go away entirely, it does get easier.” You looked at him with warm sincerity. “Just don’t bury them because that’s when they’ll eat you alive.”

Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly at your words as he recognised the place you were coming from, and he was grateful for them.

“Or not dealing with them can lead to reckless and damaging decisions that get your face slapped on every Imperial noticeboard across the Outer Rim. Take your pick.” You joked to lighten the mood again.

Crosshair managed a smile at that.

You patted his shoulder. “I meant what I said though, it gets better. We’re all here for you.” You started to walk away to see Hunter and Wrecker to find out what information they got from Fennec.

“Omega mentioned a Jedi communication thing you do?” Crosshair said to your back.

“Yeah, I do it with all of them.” You called back over your shoulder.

“All?”

“Uh huh.” You said casually before you stopped in your tracks as you realised what he was getting at. You swivelled around again, “Oh! Yeah! I can do that to you whenever you want!”

“But you haven’t.” Crosshair countered as he walked over to you.

You shrugged. “You said you needed time to adjust, and I didn’t want to freak you out.” You replied simply. “I wasn’t conspiring to keep it from you, I just didn’t want to assume anything.”

“If you still don’t trust me, I-”

You rolled your eyes. “Would you shut up; I just said it was because I thought you needed more time. Do you want me to do it with you too?”

Crosshair shifted on his feet. He didn’t like the position he suddenly found himself in, it felt rather pathetic.

“It’s a simple yes or no, come on, we have places to be.”

“I’m sure Hunter can last ten minutes without your mouth attached to his.”

“Okay, see now you’re just pissing me off.” You tossed your hands in the air and went to turn away.

“Yes.” Crosshair grumbled. He’d already missed out on so much and he didn’t want this to be yet another thing.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” You drolled. “Give me your hands.”

“Why?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.

“Because I’m actually in love with you.” You jibed flatly as you shot him a look of exasperation.

Crosshair rolled his eyes at you. “Gross.”

“Sometimes it helps when it’s a first connection, especially when I haven’t been around someone for quite a while.”  You explained. You held yours out and waited expectantly.

Crosshair hesitantly complied- both hands steady this time- and watched you intriguingly.

“Fair warning, it can feel a bit weird.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You reached into his Force signature, and it was what you expected. It was barbed and you could feel a resistance- a wall- to it. But there was also vulnerability, a longing for growth and acceptance, that wanted to let you in and that was what you appealed to. When you felt that the connection was there, you opened your eyes and looked at him. Now, can we go see your brothers please?

“Okay, that’s really fucking weird.” Crosshair said as you let go of his hands.

Hey, you asked. You grinned at him before the two of you officially set off to go meet the ship.

--

One week later

“Any word?” Omega asked as she and Crosshair stepped into the Marauder. They’d been mediating by the Maya tree and decided to come check in. The news that Fennec didn’t have any immediate information to offer had been disappointing and each day that went by without any communication only let that disappointment grow.

“Nothing.” Wrecker groused.

“Fennec never told us how long she’d take.” Hunter admitted before he noticed you weren’t with them. “Where’s-”

“Don’t know. We thought she was with you.” Crosshair said as he placed a toothpick in his mouth.

“You’ve not seen her all day?” Hunter double-checked. He’d seen you when you’d woken up but then you’d left, and he and Wrecker had been on the ship for most of the day.

“No, we haven’t. Batcher must be with her too.” Omega guessed since the hound hadn’t been with them and wasn’t anywhere on the ship.

Hunter mulled this over in his head. This isolation you were now putting yourself in since you’d heard the news about Fennec’s lack of information was beginning to become a real habit.

“Three seconds. That’s all it took for you to decide to go find her.” Crosshair teased, earning a snicker from Wrecker in the process.

“Shut up.” Hunter mumbled as he left the ship.

--

You had been aimlessly wandering the shoreline, occasionally chucking a stick Batcher had found for her to chase.

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones,

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones…

You ran that list over and over again in your head but couldn’t see the connection. The Jedi were dead and hated by the Empire- what could they need that M-count for? Omega wasn’t Force sensitive and neither were any other clones but that was Hemlock’s main test subject choice. So, what was it about an M-count in clone genetics that mattered so much? What were you overlooking? A demanding bark pulled you out your thoughts and you saw Batcher had dropped the stick at your feet and was waiting expectantly.

“Tell me, Batcher, what am I missing?” You crouched down and held the sides of her face in your palms and smiled at the hound. “Tell me, girl!” You laughed as she let out an affectionate whine and licked your cheek.

“You know, it might help to share your theories with someone who can actually talk back?”

“Uh oh, the tracker found me.” You said as you scratched her jaw before you glanced past her with an affectionate look to the clone walking towards you. “And how’d do you know she doesn’t?” You disputed light-heartedly as you stood up taller.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Hunter played into the joke as he reached you before he turned more serious. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” You said dismissively.

Hunter just stared at you with a knowing look on his face. “Don’t do that, don’t shut me out. You’re not keeping to yourself for no reason.”

You remembered your own advice to Crosshair and swallowed tightly. “It’s right in front of my face, Hunter. I should know why this M-count matters for Omega but it’s not clicking and it’s driving me insane!” You rubbed a hand across your tired face. “I don’t know what I’m not seeing.” You confessed as you hung your head with a defeated breath.

Hunter placed his hands on your upper arms and brought his eyes to your level. “If it were obvious, we’d know it already.” He said as he rubbed his thumbs comfortingly up and down your arms. “You don’t need to keep working through this alone.”

“I just feel so useless. I should be able to figure this out!” You said with a frustrated huff.

“I know, it’s hard to just wait it out, but Fennec will come through. Until then, we just have to be patient.” Hunter said as he put his arm around your waist as the two of you and Batcher headed back to rendezvous with the others. “Jedi are meant to be good at that, right?”

“Would it shock you to know that I struggled with that?” You remarked satirically as you mirrored his actions.

Hunter chuckled. “Not in the slightest.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @nightmonkeysstuff @superbookishhufflepuff

[crippled-peeper]

I found you through the thick water shortage post you made back in February and honestly decided to follow you because I admired the way you chose to respond to the ableist comments.

I’ve spent most of my life figuring out how to be a well spoken and charming people pleaser thinking it would help me get my needs met and convince people to respect me and. Holy shit was I put through hell anyways because I didn’t fight back. Not ONE person respected me more because of how I acted, if anything people respected me LESS and just hurt me more (I’m fine now, dw).

I’m now learning that if someone, especially a stranger, already doesn’t respect you, nothing you can do will convince them and all throwing yourself at their feet will do is make you the perfect doormat to be walked all over. Seriously fawning and complying with “moderate your tone” remarks may work at first but it’s always a fucking trap. When people start to expect that shit from you, you just get STUCK doing it. And they’ll just keep PUSHING for more until you have NOTHING.

So given everything that was said in those comments, your replies were more than warranted.

What I’m trying to say is that given what I’m used to, it was nice to see someone push back and not hold anything back. Honestly this may come off as glazing but when I saw your replies I was genuinely in awe of how you didn’t back down or bother filtering yourself despite how many people told you to. And you’ve become somewhat of an inspiration for me.

Like I’m not joking, I was genuinely happy to see you fight back with your full unfiltered anger and not give a fuck what anyone thinks and I thought “I wanna be more like that.” Because I genuinely think the world needs more anger and people should be allowed to be rude instead of spending ages formulating well spoken sentences, like no one should have to ever filter their rage at being mistreated and told to “take the high road.” The high road holds no promises that they will stop.

Please continue to piss off the ableists who complain about you being mean, we both know what they’re really trying to do. No one deserves to be mistreated and why the fuck should you let them get away with it?

But also, remember that if those assholes start weighing on you and replying to people who sound like a broken record gets tiring, you don’t owe anyone your time or attention. Frankly it’s way more than they deserve.

Wishing you well ❤️

P.S. I love your blog theme, green is my favorite color.

This is such a sweet letter thank you for sending me it. It really makes me feel valued and understood and appreciated 😭❤️ I will keep kicking around on here until the cows come in from the pasture

[falling-star-cygnus]

...i've gotten four asks about this sorta thing -> which i'm super grateful for!! thank y'all so much for wanting to see more of my writing!!

i've just sort of been putting these specific ones off until i felt i could adequately display it and even now I feel iffy about the characterization, but I really didn't want to seem like i ignoring y'all either :( -> Masterlist

i have some semblance of a plot now, so... i sincerely hope you all enjoy? this might be the push i need to get out of my funk, and i put in the very best effort for all of you!!

"You were a WHAT?"

"Is now really the time to be surprised!?"

The Ethereal- they kinda looked like one the Ballerina Twins actually, if the Ballerina Twins had galactic glitchy orbs for heads and rainbow glowy nervous systems- warbles at them impatiently. Anby's barely keeping them at bay with her sword.

It's practically a toothpick compared to the giant weapon Thanatos was wielding... They raise their shield-

Billy fires.

It doesn't land, of course it doesn't, but the smaller Demara doesn't get bludgeoned either so the android counts it as a win.

Especially when the bullet ricochets off the sign previously behind the larger than necessary Ethereal and back towards him. Billy tilts his head left just in time to miss it, and pivots on his heel when Thanatos shrieks and flails back. Bullseye.

"It's showtime!" he announces, and lines The Girls up somewhere where their jaw would be. Only about six of the bullets- 12 in total, the android was counting- actually hit before they teleport away again.

Billy reloads.

None of them, except the Boss, used the right typing to properly take Thanatos on.. but there was little to be done until they could carve an escape route out.

The Hares' ready their weapons, turning in slow circles as they wait for Thanatos to appear again. Were they gone..? He knew better than to assume they were, of course, but-

"Billy- behind you!" Nekomata points; he whirls around.

And takes a blade to the head.

There's not much to say for this part, aside from pointing out how cliche and underhanded it was to get him from behind like this, but bits and pieces float around to the surface with just enough clarity to be worth mentioning.

The pavement cracking under the android's weight.

Sparks fluttering out of the cleaved out gash.

Thin oil leaking out of his head like a halo.

Isolation.

Billy stands in the inky abyss of his own mind. His memories- his memories of the Hares'- play out before him like a movie: braiding Anby's hair, putting Nicole's into pigtails, napping in the sun with Nekomata on his chest, warmth-

Fighting as a team, Anby helping him up, Nicole calling his name, the restaurant they all went to after successful raids, fighting alone, Being alone in that truck bed, sand clogging up his joints.

Chill.

The memories fade away, leaving the android with the stilted thought of:

Don't- take them.. from me.

Nothing.

Billy Kid wakes up, and points the nearest weapon- a gun, by the feel of it- at their forehead. The hands reaching for him still, too pale to be anybody from the Sons.

Calloused enough to be Caesar's, though, so they must be some form of blade user. Electric, if the Lichtenburg scars on their finger tips have any weight to them.

The android sits up, ignoring the stab of pain behind his right video processer. He could deal with that later, after figuring out where the actual hell he was. And dealing with whoever it was that moved him.

They're small, surprisingly so, but Lucy and Piper were also small so that didn't exactly mean anything of value. Brilliant white hair, amber eyes, and green and black tech wear.

And a backpack packed with enough thrumming energy to kill the Dead-End Butcher.

Definitely a threat.

Billy Kid doesn't lower the gun, even as he's sure the human's fleshy arms were getting tired of being raised. Or maybe they weren't. He knows their type, he's cut from the same cloth himself.

A weapon.

"Billy, d-"

"How do you know my name," he interrupts, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he wouldn't have to shoot someone so small, "and why are you only using part of it."

He was Billy Kid, the feared enforcer of the outer ring. The only people that occasionally just called him Billy were the other Sons of Calydon. Not strangers.

"We work together," his potential captor calmly says, lowering their hands by their sides, "We're friends. Partners in crime."

"The hell we are."

"We are," they insist.

He doesn't buy it. Billy Kid didn't have friends, he was an android. A weapon and tool for whoever his boss was. Big Sis, the drifters, whoever had him before that.

He cared about them all, more than he should considering what he was made for, but he wasn't built to receive that kind of care in return. Pain spikes behind his processer again, and his free hand instinctively moves to grasp at it.

The stranger jolts forward as the gun dips.

Billy Kid shoots on instinct, even as something like worry[?] coils the wires in his lower torso too tight. There's a click, but in the end nothing but dry fire. And relief[?]

Billy Kid curses at the opening he's provided, and braces himself for the inevitable attack. He doesn't know where the other gun was- because there had to be one, Burnice only ever made things in pairs- and..

Why did he assume Burnice made these...?

Small hands, calloused and scarred, gently- why was he being treated gently- bat his hand away from his video processor. The empty gun is sandwiched between them.

More carefully than he deserves for shooting at them, the stranger inspects something on his face, and the android swings his lanky legs over the side of- it looks like a cot[?] to make it easier for them.

"You took a bad hit to the head," they inform his forehead, only pulling away when Billy Kid starts to get twitchy at the proximity, "an Ionized - Thanatos. It most likely messed with your memory bank."

"Sounds convenient," he scoffs, lowering the gun to his side, "Most likely messed with my memory bank?"

"It definitely did, we were friends," the stranger presses, strangely insistent, "What's the last thing you remember?"

They take off their backpack as the android thinks back on it. Whether to prove they weren't a threat or gain his trust to attack later, he wasn't sure.

What he was sure of was the fact that the harder he thought about it the harder his head pounded. Everything dating up to the past year and six months was just- blank. Corrupted files that spat static and made him want to lie down for a while.

More than that, he felt... lonely, for some reason. Like a big chunk had been carved from his sternum and left to burn in front of him.

"Billy?"

"I don't remember you."

And oh. He'd take it right back if it meant that look never crossed their face again.

It's barely there for a second, but it's a look of pure hurt. Hurt that makes something close to guilt roar where his mechanical heart sat. He never wanted this stranger to look at him like that again.

He never wanted anyone to look at him like that, to be honest. Fighting was fun- it was what he was built for- and the thrill was something that almost nothing could replicate- but...

Flashes- memories- of Lucy and Piper flit through his head, images and phantoms of them tucked into his sides on warm days and colder nights. A rough hand carding through his hair.

...being sent.. off?

“I’m-”

The door cuts him off with a bang!

"What's taking so long!? Is he ok?"

"Nicole! Anby told us to wait-"

Long pink hair and calculating green eyes bully their way into the room. Something in his programming wants to stand at attention all of a sudden...

The stranger- the white-haired stranger, because now there were three- moves away from the confused android. It looks like they want to say something but apparently thinks better of it and turns towards Billy Kid.

"I don't think I should be the one to say it," they- the thiren said her name was Anby[?]- announce, with all the enthusiasm of a dry rock. Which seems to be her MO, endearingly enough. Endearingly?

The pink haired- Nicole puts her hands on her hips.

"Say what?" she demands, before turning her critical gaze onto the android, "Are you ok or not, Billy?"

Again, shortening my name... Who are these people?

"All systems are operational," he reports anyway, because despite her brash words she sounds worried, "Except my memory banks, apparently."

Side-eye.

Anby's nose just barely scrunches at his tone.

"What do you mean your memory banks?" Nicole prompts, gaze flicking between the two.

"He doesn't remember us."

The Cunning Hares freeze. Silence rules the small space they've tucked themselves into- which... kinda looks like a garage? A nice garage compared to whatever you'd find in the Outer Ring.

Much too nice to be anywhere close to the Outer Ring.

"Where did you take me?"

Nobody answers for a good while.

Until the thiren lets slip:

"...it's so weird to hear you talk like that.."

She shudders from her fluffy ears tips to the sleek finishes of her tails. Were they prosthetics? Why were they blue at the at the base-?

What was wrong with the way he talked?

And why didn't she answer his question-

"Not- not in a bad way!" the thiren is hasty to tack on, "you just... you don't sound happy anymore.."

...happy? He wasn't built to sound happy. He wasn't even supposed to talk much outside status reports and communications. Although- sure, the android often broke that somewhat unspoken rule when Piper and Lucy needed a bit more help to drift off at night, or when Burnice needed someone to bounce a new design off of, or if Lighter was talking about something that happened while he was out in shops, or-

...you got the idea. Caesar hadn't explicitly banned him from talking with the other Sons, not by a long shot, he just- didn't want to push it.

The silence surrounding the ragtag four stretches into something distinctly uncomfortable.

"That.. aside," Nicole- who he assumes is the Boss- eventually starts, "We.. ahem. We got your wound patched up just fine, but... we ended up needing some help to get you back here."

Billy Kid tilts his head.

It made sense, of course, he was an android made of reinforced metal. And while he didn't doubt the strength of these people- especially Anby- he had an itching feeling that their strength was.... not particularly rooted in the weight-lifting sense.

So who-?

"Well. This isn't exactly the reunion I was hoping for."

....there was no way.

Caesar, the Big Sis of the Sons of Calydon herself, walks through the- admittedly abused looking door. Billy Kid shoots to his feet.

And severely underestimates the refractory period required following the repair of a head wound. He stumbles.

A sturdy arm catches his middle with ease.

"Easy, Kid," Caesar reprimands, hauling him back to his feet, "There's no reason to do that, I'm not your boss anymore."

Her words are oddly quiet, as if the other three in the room weren't supposed to hear. Big Sis had always been good at that. Quietly being reassuring without being coddling.

That achingly hollow feeling returns.

From behind Caesar's large frame, he can see the Hares' lower their hands slowly. Their faces are oddly stormy..

Anby bullies her way between them.

"Quite the team you've found yourself, by the way," Caesar continues as if she hadn't, "I'd ask you to fill me in, but.."

...right. Her pale eyes lock onto his, and-

She gives him a single nod of approval. Something loosens in his wiring.

"You'll be alright, Kid."

"Of course he will." Anby cuts in, squaring her small shoulders, "Even if we have to remake all the memories he lost, Billy will always be a member of the Cunning Hares."

And-

Billy finally believes it.

[soupandcats]

Sorry abt the big ask, but your colours are always really vibrant and interesting! They seem both saturated and subdued. What’s your general method for choosing them or are there any tricks/layer modes you use?

Thank you! This is gonna be a long one sorry😭

My favorite digital art trick for color is the curves tool! In procreate you press the wand tool in the top left corner (Adjustments) > Curves. I recommend just playing around with this until something you like happens.

Here’s a study I did with pretty standard colors.

Here are some versions of it after moving the curves around.

What I like about this is it’s a really quick way of changing the color scheme that’s more precise than applying a filter. It lets you see how far you can push things outside of what’s expected!

When I first started digital art I had so much trouble with color because unlike traditional, the colors have the ability to be fully opaque. With traditional if you’re doing a painting the paints/colored pencils/etc will naturally mix with one another creating a more cohesive overall image.

Here’s a drawing I did in 2020. As you can see it’s incredibly saturated. When I was picking colors I was working in the most saturated section for nearly every color.

These days even when I’m trying to make something super colorful I’ll force myself to desaturate it more than I think I need to. There are two ways to desaturate something. You can move it towards white or towards black.

Another thing I try to keep in mind is that colors look different based on what colors are around them. If you put gray next to a color it will look like that color’s complement. If you put a warm color next to a cool color they’ll amplify one another making both look more intense. In that same way if I put a super saturated color against a more neutral background the color will look even brighter.

I like this tapestry by Sheila Hicks. See how the orange is glowing against the more muted purples and blues?

Another thing I try to keep in mind is value. Like color it’s influenced by its surroundings. If you place a lighter color over a dark background it will look brighter than over a light background.

So in a piece the eye will be drawn to the areas of highest contrast first. And area that’s similar in both value and hue will recede into the background.

I really am not an expert on color I have so much to learn. I recommend Marco Bucci’s videos as well as the book The Art of Color if you’d like more detailed+accurate info! Color theory is the most fascinating thing I’m obsessed with it.

You don’t really need to know theory to be good at color though! Just playing around and figuring out what you like (I LOVE PURPLE) will make you better!

The most satisfying thing is when you’re making a drawing and you decide to add a little gray or a little orange or whatever and suddenly your piece just starts to SING!!!! (That purple/blue/orange part of the Sheila Hicks tapestry is singing to me it will forever make me happy)

Anyways I hope this helps! 💜💜💜

[ineffable-endearments]

I keep going back and forth on how much I think Aziraphale understood the Metatron's offer as an implicit threat right off the bat. How much of 'Heaven is the side of Good' was sincere, felt-it-in-his-marrow sentiment, and how much of it was a desperate lie, or a desperate attempt to convince himself that he and Crowley were about to be given what he wanted, or a desperate attempt to harness Heaven's power for his own purposes.

I have kind of shifted to believe, though, that maybe Aziraphale's character development doesn't have to be exactly "learning that Heaven is bad." Maybe it's OK, from a character development standpoint, if he already knows that, at least 75% of the way.

Because I actually think there's something deeper than just "Heaven isn't good" that Aziraphale has to go through: "You can't violate free will even if your intentions for people are one thousand percent good and pure and kind." This is the core reason why Heaven is "irredeemable," so to speak: its whole purpose is to "mess people around," as Adam Young would say. Even if Aziraphale could walk in there, instantly dominate the Metatron, stop the Second Coming, and dedicate all of Heaven's operations to Making Humanity Good, it still wouldn't be okay.

Like, Aziraphale needs to value free will for its own sake, rather than as a means to a Good end. This feels more all-encompassing of both the philosophical conflict between Aziraphale and Crowley and the alarming behavior we've seen from Aziraphale this past season (controlling people's mood and behavior at the ball, for example).

It's also a compelling philosophical conflict because accepting free will for what it really is is frightening. Sometimes you will watch people be self-destructive. Sometimes you will make yourself vulnerable to other people's choices and they could hurt you or your loved ones. Heck, when Crowley had a chance to give a bunch of humans the ability to kill each other to prove a point about human nature, he protected them from themselves!

But on the scale of the whole universe, for free will to work like it's "supposed to," like Aziraphale says out loud it's supposed to (just before Armageddon), it has to be absolute. Having humanity pushed into the middle of a cosmic battle between Above and Below doesn't actually enable free will or any of the other qualities Aziraphale admires in the world of humanity (and Crowley).

Forcing people to choose between two sides isn't really free will.

Heck, even if the Final Fifteen of Season 2 was merely one big miscommunication, a failed bullet catch trick, that in itself could be part of the lesson. Trying to use your power (relationship) to push your loved ones (Crowley) into doing things (becoming an angel again) you believe are For Their Own Good WILL hurt them, no matter how pure your intentions are.

Evil/cruelty in Heaven will be an important part of the main conflict, I think we can say that's obvious, but Heaven's whole...thing is moving people, humans and angels and probably Hell's demons too, around like pieces on a chessboard. The entire mission of the organization would be wrong even if everyone was perfectly well-intended and nobody ever engaged in intentional cruelty and Heaven decided not to destroy Earth after all.

So, while I really can't say I'm confident in making predictions about it, I would find it narratively satisfying for Aziraphale to go up there, immediately know what's going on, and make real trouble for Heaven while still finding lots of compelling ways to grow as a character.

And lots of ways to bumble around charmingly, too. Remember that Aziraphale very smartly figured out something he was never supposed to figure out, the location of the Antichrist, and looked like a complete ding dong (I am saying this in the most loving tone imaginable) the whole time.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Do you have plans for any updates to pretend boyfriend!Gaz? I love the ones you’ve already written. ❤️☺️👏

- A Gay Gaz Lover 🫡

I wouldn't usually answer this, but I will because it's Gaz & I've had this idea for the next part in the Pretend Boyfriend!Gaz Drabble series but I've written it.

If you're new here and don't know the drabbles I'm talking about here, here is part one & part two.

CW: There's a creep, but Gaz gets him to leave you alone.

Since Thanksgiving, your family was begging for you to bring Gaz around for Christmas. You two talked about it and decided you'd continue the ruse, which made your heat race since you were falling in love with him.

You two were in a store, buying Christmas presents for your family. You were standing in the action figures section, looking for your younger brother's favorite character so you could give it to him for Christmas. You didn't truly know where Gaz was, but you figured he was in the next section, the candle section, looking for your oldest sister's favorite candle.

"Hello there," a man beside you said, his voice husky and clearly filled with flirtatious intent. "I don't usually approach strangers in a store, but you're just so breathtaking and I had to shoot my shot. I'd love to take you out for a date sometimes."

You gritted your teeth, hating the fact that this random man was hitting on you. "No thanks," you replied, thinking that was that.

You moved further down the aisle, trying to get far away from the man. But he followed after you, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that," the man said, catching up to you easily. He caught up enough to reach out and grab your wrist tight, stopping you in your tracks. "Why not give me a chance?"

"Let me go," you hissed, tugging your arm as you tried to get out of his grip. "Leave me alone!"

The man simply tightened his hold on your wrist, using his grip to pull you closer. "No, not until you tell me why you won't give me a chance. You'd be lucky to get a date with me."

You were about to respond, but you didn't need to because you saw the shadow of Gaz's figure before he appeared in your field of vision, appearing behind the man who could tell there was someone behind him.

"I suggest you let my partner go, because I won't ask you twice and you're no a match for me if we get into a fight," Gaz said, his usual snark gone from his voice and there was only anger there. He stood taller than the man in front of him, his brown eyes unusually cold.

You had seen him pissed off only a few times and yet, his anger didn't scare you. His anger, his protectiveness, it made you want to melt into him.

His anger did scare the man holding your wrist, however. The man let go of your wrist almost instantly, but he didn't leave. No, he whirled around to face Gaz and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Oh, you're their boyfriend, huh? They could do better than you," he sneered.

Gaz didn't blink at the insult. "Perhaps they could. But they definitely could do better than you, and they did. Hell, they deserve way more than even I can give them. So go, leave us."

He grabbed the man by the shirt and turned with the man in his hands, moving the man from where he was standing in front of you to behind you two. He pushed the man away, forcing him to retreat.

"Go on, go before I decide I really do want to get into a fight today. And learn to take the answer no at face-value, asshole."

The man seemed to take Gaz's words at heart, or he was too shocked and scared by how easily Gaz had picked him up and moved him aside like he was nothing but trash, because he left shortly after, leaving you two alone in the aisle.

You smiled at Gaz when he looked back at you. "Thank you for that," you said, breathing a sigh of relief now that the other man was gone. "You didn't have to use the ruse to get me out of the situation, though. I'm sure you could've gotten him to leave without saying you were my boyfriend, since you know, it's just a ruse. You didn't have to say that I deserve more than you can give me."

Gaz's brown eyes were softer now and he stepped closer towards you. "And what if it wasn't just a ruse? What if I actually meant what I said?" he asked, his voice soft like you would run away if he spoke any louder.

"Heh, but it was just a ruse," you replied, determined to think this was just your brain making signs where there was none. There was no way Gaz, your best friend, felt the same way about you than you felt about him. "You're not actually my boyfriend."

"I want to be," Gaz murmured, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. He was so close to you that you could feel his breath hitting your cheek. "I didn't realize it until you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend, didn't realize it until Thanksgiving when I met your family and spent the night sleeping beside you on that air mattress. It felt so right to tell your family how much I love you, how much I want to have a future with you."

He gently pulled you closer, his head ducked down slightly to brush his nose against yours. "I can't think about what my life will be like five years later without thinking about you right beside me. I crave you and I feel like I shouldn't because we're best friends. But you bewitched me, endeared yourself to my soul. I can't sleep a wink without dreaming of kissing you."

His words seemed breathless, like a weight was lifting off his chest by telling you all this.

"Please, if you don't feel the same, know that I will always love you and I can't lose you in my life. I'd watch you be with another if it meant I was still in your life, being warmed by the warmth of your smile. Nothing has to change if you don't feel the same."

"But things do have to change," you responded, making Gaz frown. But you continued on, "Because I feel the same. I want a future where we're together, happy and living a life side by side. My heart skips a beat thinking about you telling my father you love me. I need you in my life, Kyle."

"You'll have me, {Name}," Gaz said, a soft smile forming on his lips as he seemed relieved to know you felt the same way about him. "You'll have me for as long as you'll want me."

You couldn't help but to smile back at him. "What are the chances we'll kiss right here, right now?" you asked, half-joking.

Gaz tilted his head slightly, like he was about to kiss you. But he instead just rubbed your noses together. "As much as I want to," he murmured, "I want to take you out on a proper date before I kiss you."

Your smile grew wider at his words. He just couldn't help but be a gentleman.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[toruro]

svt + them coming home after a tough day

a/n: sorry, i get so carried away while writing these i don't even realize how long they get ajdskdsk

w/c: 3.0k

warnings: sexual content in some (it's not super descriptive), face fucking, oral (m receiving), a little bit of angry sex, lmk if i'm missing something

seungcheol

definitely is constantly exhausted just because he has to take care of so many other people so he hardly has time to focus on himself. he finds is so easily to just collapse into you when he gets to see you like i'm saying you hear the door open and before you even have time to get up from the couch he's just already slumped on top of you. he'd murmur something like, "missed you," softly as you adjusted your arms around him, gently massaging your fingers into his scalp. yes seungcheol LOVES to be the caregiver—the protector—but sometimes, especially on tough days like these, he loves to be babied. he wouldn't need to say anything, because him acting like this was enough to let you know that it was one of those days, and that all you needed to do was give him the care and attention he deserves. he'd ask to take a shower together, and although you know he means for it to be a way to hold you close and feel safe in your proximity, you can't help but feel the need to suck him off too. of course, he doesn't mind—welcomes it with open arms. after the shower head, you'll wash his hair for him and finally settle into bed extra early so that he can quietly tell you about his day while some songs play in the background.

jeonghan

i feel like he'd find it a bit hard to directly ask for help or comfort just because he's so used to taking care of others (like cheol) but is also somewhat reserved (not like cheol!). you still know him too well and he loves you so much for it, but he's always so surprised by how perceptive you are. he'll make his way into your apartment, and you immediately would notice how he shut the door harder than usual; jeonghan hardly ever gets angry at people, rather objects, so you take this as your first sign that something's up. then he'll be a little—just a little—more brisk with his responses when you're trying to make conversation. finally, when he turns down your offer of a chocolate, you know something's going on. you'll have to practically force the truth out of him and when he finally confesses that he's just been having a hard day, your heart sags. you hug him as he sits in the chair in the dining room and you stand, pushing his face into your chest as you rest your chin on the top of his head. after a few moments like this, jeonghan finally brings his arms up to wrap around your waist and hold you closer, mumbling something softly. "thank you for always being here." you almost want to scold him for thanking you, but you figure just kissing him on the cheek will let him know that he doesn't have to thank you for this.

joshua

of all the members, i feel like specifically joshua (and minghao) really values communication above all else. in joshua’s case, that’ll be as much as just texting you a sad face a few hours before he comes home, letting you know that it’s one of those days :( he won’t go into detail over text, rather settling for laying down on your lap when he gets home and quietly telling you about everything. it’s less about asking you for advice and more about being comfortable and honest with you about his emotions. when he’s done you’d offer to order his favorite takeout and he’d welcome the idea. after placing the order, he’ll just sit slumped next to you on the couch, fingers playing with yours until he grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap. you’ll be making out sloppily for a few minutes before you sneak a hand in his pants, drinking in his soft gasps of, “baby, please.” basically you give him a hand job and when you’re done he just holds you close, resting his chin on your shoulder while you say your “i love you’s.”

jun

soft. like really soft and clingy and like the moment he comes home he’ll drop everything and crawl into the spot on the sofa next to you, pressed up as physically close as possible. literally will not let you go even when you pepper him with kisses and tell him you need to go prepare dinner. you’ll have to literally pull both of you up since his hands’ll be circled around your waist CONSTANTLY. like he will not let go. even when you’re in the kitchen he’ll have his chest pressed up against your back and he’s just so much bigger than you and it’s so comforting to him BUT it does make cooking rather hard (you refrain from asking him to let go, even if it is a bit inconvenient). i feel like jun wouldn’t want to talk too much about exactly what’s bothering him but he knows you know somethings up and you aren’t going to press him if he doesn’t want to talk about it—you know if it’s really important he’d tell you. but overall i think you get the point: VERY clingy and constantly wanting your attention (and obviously you indulge).

soonyoung

super grumpy. like frowning and adding a little stomp to his feet kinda grumpy. you can feel the cloudy atmosphere around him as soon as he steps through the door, walking up to him and placing your hands on his shoulders to ask what’s wrong. “bad day,” he’d mumble with his grimace deepening as he sits down at one of the chairs at your dinner table with a sigh. you gently stand behind him, massaging his shoulders as he starts talking about his day, his voice getting increasingly heated and tempered as he goes on. you hum in response, adding small, short-phrased replies to some of the stuff he says. he finishes his rant by leaning back in the chair, head resting on your stomach as you move from his shoulders to stroke his hair. his eyebrows will still be furrowed when he closes his eyes, but you feel his body relax and lean into your touch. you can tell he’s thinking, so you settle on just telling him you love him. that seems to set something off though, and hoshi would soon be grabbing your wrist and pulling you to stand in front of him with your body faced away. he’d push you down so you’re bent over the dinner table, standing up quickly so he could grind against you. “love you so much,” he’d grunt out as he pulls your shorts and panties down in one go as you brace yourself against the cool wood of the table, excitement pooling in your stomach. “you’re always so good to me baby,” he’ll murmur before getting to work.

wonwoo

honestly he’s great at hiding his emotions, at least when it comes to his expressions, but he should’ve known that you’re way too good at picking up on how he’s actually feeling. you realize that it’s one of Those Days within the first two minutes of your conversation with him once he comes home. urging him to talk to you about it, he eventually spills out the contents of his day to you while he leans against the counter when you’re cooking dinner. you can tell it’s a little hard for him, by the way he deeply furrows his eyebrows after talking about a particularly annoying event, but you don’t push him and let him take things at the pace he wants. once he’s done and you offer your share to the conversation, you tell him to get washed up since you’re almost done with dinner. he doesn’t seem too fond of that idea, pouting and frowning and all—it’s honestly so cute that you can’t help but happily agree when he asks, “shower with me?” you agree but only under the condition that you eat first. after you’ve taken your last bite of the meal, wonwoo is quick to grab your wrist, using his other hand to muffle any complaints you have about how the dishes still have to be made. the reason for his rush doesn’t really click for you until you’re both stripping in the bathroom and notice he’s already half hard. you roll your eyes playfully, but wonwoo doesn’t let it slide. you barely make it into the shower before he’s got your waist in a tight grip, fingers digging into your skin, as he presses you against the glass. basically blowing off steam by taking an extra steamy shower hehe.

jihoon

i’d imagine he’s kind of like hoshi in the sense that he’s visibly very grumpy. it’s less sad and a little bit more mad and i feel like he would value his own space a little. you know what he’s like when he’s in this kind of mood so you try not to pry too much—you trust woozi to talk to you if he needed to—but eventually you think it’s time for you to say something when you’re both quietly eating dinner together. “you okay?” you’d ask softly, reaching your hand over so you can interlock your fingers with his. he’d sigh sadly, and it’s almost as if he knew you were going to ask him at some point. it takes him a second to properly react, finally responding by tightening his hand’s hold on yours, murmuring something about how work was hard. i feel like in general, he’d be very reserved about the entire situation, but after confessing the reasons behind his frustrations to you, he mood would go from angry to more subdued and more sad. not that it was a great improvement, but it’s much easier dealing with a sad woozi than a mad one, so you spend the rest of the night by his side and even bring out his favorite dessert so that you can bring up his mood. 

seokmin

visibly upset when he gets home. like the other boys might be pouty or angry or what not but dk is upset. like i don't know how to emphasize that any more. wants to be clingy just talk to you but also has had such a hard day that he finds himself exhausted. you'd encourage him to sit down on the couch while you make dinner.  once you finish, you let him talk about your day as you two eat, holding his hand throughout the entire process. your heart nearly breaks when you see his eyes get glossy at some parts but you don't say anything until he's done. once he's finally finished, he'd try to apologize for taking so much time or what not but you need to quickly shush him down and reassure him that he is not a burden and that he should not apologize for anything. you'd give him lots of "i love yous" and he'd just soak them all up and go from sad to more of a playful poutiness and agadsjh so cute 

mingyu

pouty. SO SO SO pouty. he’d come home and the first thing he’d do is complain about his day to you while you sit on the couch, mingyu between your legs, his head on your chest. and he knows you love him sososo much and that you’re such a sucker for him so he’ll give you puppy eyes and say something like, “since i’m having such a bad day, can we get takeout?" and when he looks at you like that you just can't say no. you'd order from your favorite pace, mingyu still resting between his legs as you play with his hair. massaging his scalp, he'll fall deeper into your hold and after a particular, soft tug at his hair he'll let out a quiet groan that sparks an idea in your mind. gently pushing him off of you, you won't hear the end of mingyu's whines and protests as he sits upright to try and pull you back toward him. "baby hold on," you'd murmur, setting down on your knees in front of the couch, in between his legs—that's when it clicks for him. his pout would transform into a smirk as he leaned back, lifting his hips and pulling down his pants for you. definitely face fucks you. like i think in general he's pretty gentle but he knows you're doing this so that he can let off some stress and that's exactly what he's gonna use you for.

minghao

like i said earlier, he's like joshua—THRIVES on communication. you don't even have to ask him to tell you what's wrong because it's pretty much the first thing he tells you when he gets home. i don't think he'd tell you everything though—not because he doesn't trust you or your help—i just feel minghao takes issues like these as something for personal growth. that doesn't mean he's not sulky and isn't going to indulge in your comfort though. he would go about the evening like you two usually do, but stay by your side a little extra, like sitting next to you at the dinner table as opposed to across from each other like you normally do. usually in the night, you would both read separate books in the bed, but tonight he pulls you close so your head rests on his shoulders as he puts on some show for you to watch together. you definitely maybe give him a blowjob while you're at it, both of you finding solace in the way his fingers tangle in your hair as he pushes you down a littler more than usual, the pent of frustration slowly withering away. aside from that, it's the little things: how his fingers are interlaced with yours when they're usually be buried between the pages of a book, and how cuddling, which is usually a morning time activity, is the only thing he's doing before you two sleep.

seungkwan

i just know he the SULKIEST of them all. he would bug you and want all your attention and all your sympathy and all your kisses and your lips just all over him and all over his di—you get it. seungkwan adores you, and even when his mood is sour, he would want to be all up in your space. that doesn't mean he won't be petty about it—his heart would already be so tender from the events of the day that he would need you to be extra careful with your words—you're basically tip toeing around legos at this one point—one wrong move and it's pretty much a disaster. luckily for you, you know just how to handle seungkwan. you'd bring out his favorite dessert after dinner and while both of your lips are extra sweet you'd make out in the kitchen. it would be desperate and sloppy, your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands would run up and down your body. it'd only be a matter of time before you're sinking down to your knees unbuttoning his jeans. here's to say you definitely made him cum more than once.

vernon

honestly i feel with vernon it can go one way or the other: 1) he's just very pouty and honestly, tries to be intentionally difficult for the sake of being stubborn OR 2) he's just super clingy like jun. either way he's going to be bothering you somehow but of course you don't mind—how could you? whatever's the case, you'd eventually have to sit him down and make him talk about his day before you two begin to cuddle on the bed. now i feel like vernon just loves oral in general but for some reason he'd feel bad for asking for head (even though you've told him multiple times you enjoy it too), so he settles on like making not so subtle innuendos so you can try to get the hint; stuff like "hmm you make me feel better," when he's holding you or just toying with the hem of your shirt ever so slightly. you're slightly oblivious though, finally getting the hint when he's spooning you and you feel him hard behind you LOL. it all makes sense now, you'd think to yourself, before finally pushing yourself off the bed and giving the man what he wants lmfaoo

dino

i feel like if he was having a bad day, he’d feel more tense than anything. like not really sad or angry or frustrated, it’d just feel like there’s a weight on his shoulders that he can’t seem to get rid of, and he tells you this right when he gets home. he'd be very vocal about his emotions which you both love since communication is key! after he's done talking about everything he'd still be really exhausted, excusing himself to take a shower while you prepare dinner. everything after that goes pretty normal except you can still tell that chan's feeling a little...down :( which means that you need to think of ways to cheer him up because if there's anything you hate it's seeing chan not be his bright and passionate usual self. after dinner, you suggest you two watch a movie together on the couch, and while you can tell he's a little tired, he agrees nonetheless, eager to curl up by your side. like most of your movie nights go, you two don't even make it 30 minutes in before you're sitting on his lap, mouths connected in a hot, sloppy mess. he's about to turn you over so he's on top before you pull away, pushing down hard on his shoulders so he falls back into the couch. "this is about you," you tell him, leaning back in to kiss him while you both shuffle out of your pants and shorts. basically you ride him and chan definitely spanks you at least once. or twice. or thr—okay you get the point.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway. 

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran’s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up. 

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help? 

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.” 

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Guess,” you spit back easily. 

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“ 

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch. 

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[loveroffictionalmen]

Hey! Not sure if this is where I should leave a request but I’d love to see the prompt “Have you eaten today?” “Am I gonna get in trouble if I say no?” With Wanda Maximoff x Reader all good if not :)

Baby Steps

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

Description: Wanda, new to the Avengers after the events of Age of Ultron, finds peace in the reader. But when the reader starts showing signs of an eating disorder, Wanda does her best to help in a situation where she feels powerless.

Warnings: eating disorder, talk of disordered eating, angst with fluff sprinkled in at the end

Words: 1269

A/N: hii this is my first post and it’s a request yippee! to anyone who is struggling with disordered eating, i want you to know you’re not alone. you can always message me to talk. my messages are open. you are loved and valued, and you are worth much more than the number on a scale or a measuring tape.

Wanda was observant. She was the kind of person who noticed when someone was a little too quiet. She noticed the small things, but didn’t really speak up about it. After all, being new to the Avengers would definitely make someone not want to speak up. She felt like she had no place to.

It wasn’t until y/n came back from their mission that Wanda started to feel like she belonged. Y/n had been gone for the first few days of Wanda’s stay at the compound, so to see that there was another Avenger startled Wanda.

But y/n was kind, caring. They were gentle with everyone, unlike some of the others. Everyone seemed to like y/n. It wasn’t long before Wanda and y/n became close.

Wanda noticed the small things about y/n. She noticed that y/n always wet their hairbrush before brushing their hair. She noticed the kinds of books they liked to read. She noticed that they seemed especially happy on rainy days. But that wasn’t the only thing Wanda had seen.

Wanda saw the times that y/n would slip away right after dinner. She saw how, when asked if they wanted a snack, they would always politely refuse. It puzzled her.

But it didn’t take long to figure it out. Y/n had an eating disorder. To think that someone that happy, that kind could do such a thing to themselves. Wanda wanted to reach into y/n’s mind, figure out what the problem was and stop it. But that would be way overstepping a boundary.

As time went on Wanda got closer to y/n, she began to fall more and more in love with them. And when they asked Wanda to be their girlfriend, she was more than happy to say yes. And ever since that day, Wanda vowed to love y/n as much as she could.

“Dragul meu? (my love?),” Wanda asked one day, hoping that today would be different. She walked into their shared bedroom, hoping to give y/n a gentle wake-up call. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Y/n groaned, rolling over and squinting their eyes. “Maybe just a coffee,” They said, voice raspy. Both the rasp and the answer made Wanda’s stomach flutter.

“Milk and sugar okay, dragoste (love)?” Wanda asked, hoping to whatever god was listening that y/n would say yes.

“Black is good for me,” They said, sitting up. Wanda pursed her lips into a small smile and nodded. Giving y/n a soft kiss on the forehead, she murmured, “Are you doing alright?”

Y/n knew that Wanda knew about their eating disorder. They hadn’t had extensive conversations about it, but at that point, nearly everyone in the compound knew. Y/n just chose to ignore that. But with Wanda, they were honest. Well, as honest as they could be.

“I’ve got it under control, don’t worry dragă (darling),” Y/n whispered back, slipping into Wanda’s native tongue. Wanda furrowed her brows, but pushed her worry aside. Y/n wouldn’t lie to her, right?

“I know, I just worry,” She said.

“And you don’t need to, I’m okay.” Y/n gave Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze. Wanda nodded.

“Well, I’d better make that coffee then, shouldn’t I?”

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Wanda was restless. She wasn’t due for training like the others since she wasn’t put on the schedule for that day. She kept running y/n’s words in her head over and over again.

I’ve got it under control. If y/n was telling the truth, why did it feel like they were slipping further and further away? Why did it feel like Wanda could only watch as y/n fell deeper in the hole? Her thoughts were interrupted as Pietro sped into the room.

“Wanda! It’s y/n! They-” He panted. Wanda stood, eyes widening. “They fainted, during combat training!” Wanda felt as if her whole world stopped. Y/n, her love, had finally pushed themselves too far.

“Which gym?” She said, face like stone.

“Uhh, 3A, Rogers is with her now-” Wanda didn’t wait for Pietro to finish. She dashed through the compound and down to the level where the training rooms were. She could feel a sob catching in her throat as she struggled to find room 3A. With tears threatening her lower lashline, she tore through each of the gyms until she found it.

Steve was next to y/n who was sitting against the far wall, sipping a bottle of water. When Wanda approached, Steve backed off, not wanting to be a part of what seemed to be a hard conversation.

“Y/N!” Wanda cried, kneeling next to her partner. “What happened, are you-” Wanda choked on a sob. She could see y/n’s face twist in sadness. Y/n placed their hands on Wanda’s cheeks and shook their head.

“Please don’t cry,” They said. When Wanda had calmed for a moment, she took a deep breath.

“Please, honestly, have you eaten today?” Y/n’s face fell. They looked down for a moment.

“Am I going to get in trouble if I say no?” They whispered. Wanda’s stomach dropped. She bit her lip for a moment, and thought about what she should say next.

“No, no you won’t get in trouble darling,” She said slowly. “Come, we’ll get you to the infirmary-”

“No-”

“Y/n please.” Wanda looked at y/n, practically begging them to come with her. Y/n was silent for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay, but I don’t know if I’m ready to get better yet,” they said. This broke Wanda’s heart.

“You don’t have to get better all at once. Pași de bebeluș (baby steps), okay?” Wanda said. Y/n nodded again.

“Baby steps.”

“Y/n! I was talking to Banner, and he said there’s something called supplement! It’s a drink, so when you can’t finish your meals, you can have that instead!” Wanda said, entering y/n’s hospital room. It wasn’t long before y/n was admitted for malnutrition. But Wanda visited everyday. She stayed at the hospital day and night and only left for food and to clean herself up. And to talk to Banner of course.

“I don’t know...” y/n said, looking down at their hands.

“You don’t have to use it all the time, or at all. Just try it?” Wanda said, taking a seat next to y/n.

“Maybe-” Y/n was cut off by the sing-song voice of a nurse entering the room with a tray. A tray of food.

“Lunchtime!!” The nurse said. Wanda could see the panic enter y/n’s eyes as the nurse got closer. She took y/n’s hand in hers and squeezed, letting them know they she was right there.

“Thank you,” Wanda said, speaking for the panicked patient. Y/n looked at Wanda, eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t know if I can-” They started. They cut themselves off before saying more.

“Baby steps,” Wanda reassured them. “How about this, you take one bite of the sandwich, and I’ll take one too. We’ll share it, okay?” Y/n took a deep breath and nodded. Wanda did her best to keep y/n distracted throughout the meal. It took a while, due to their abnormally small bites, but they finished the sandwich.

“O Doamne (oh my god)! We finished it my love! That’s amazing! You’re doing amazing, “ Wanda said when y/n had finished their last bite. “I knew you could do it!”

“It was easier like that,” Y/n admitted.

“Well, in that case dragul meu (my darling), I’ll eat with you for as long as it takes. Even if it means forever.” Wanda said, still amazed at how well y/n had done. This was the most they had eaten in a couple days.

“Promise?”

“Promisiune (promise).”

[honeyjars-sims]

3.4 The Calm Before the Storm

David and Angelique stood on the dance floor of Roy G. Biv's watching the patrons slowly trickle in. It was Thursday, one of their slowest nights, so the pair was expecting a laid-back evening. Tomorrow would be a different story. The weekend crowd was much more chaotic--sweaty club goers would push and shove their way to the front of the stage in anticipation of the arrival of THE Diva herself, Miss Angelique Galloway. But this night, like most Thursday nights, had been smooth sailing.

"Well, David, this is the calm before the storm. I hope you're ready."

"I think I can handle a Friday night at a drag club, Ange."

Angelique turned towards him with a smirk. "I'm talking about Drag Superstar. Once it starts airing, everyone's attention will be turned to you."

David's season of the reality show was set to air in a few months. While the cast hadn't been officially announced yet, word traveled fast amongst the show's most avid fans. Posters on seddit had not only figured out the cast but the elimination order for the whole season.

"Now that I'm not ready for."

David had already heard the whispers. There was a lot of pressure on him to perform well, especially since Angelique had made it to the finals a couple of seasons prior.

"Oh, you'll be just fine, David. You've got that Galloway charm. The fans are going to eat you up."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Though the public's impression of his performance was certainly important, it wasn't what had his stomach in knots. He hadn't gone into the show thinking about how to address his family life, but the producers seemed eager to exploit the parenting angle. He was, after all, a bit of an outlier in the cast as a family man.

Now, a few months outside of the pressures of competition, he had plenty of time to worry about how much of what he said would make it on air.

"I know." Angelique was sympathetic. "I'm sure your family will understand. Personal things are bound to come up."

"I'm sure most of them will." David didn't have to elaborate on which family member would be affected most negatively by his loose lips. As his closest friend and confidant, Angelique was privy to everything going on in his life.

"How is Johnny doing, by the way?" She asked.

"About the same." David smoothed out the wrinkles on his skirt. "I feel a little better having him around here so I can keep an eye on him, but I'm not sure a nightclub is the best environment for him."

"I think the tight leash you're holding might be the bigger problem," Angelique warned him.

David scoffed. "Haven't I told you I don't take parenting advice from people who don't have kids?"

"Many times! Look, I may not know what it's like to be a parent, but I do understand having a childhood where you didn't feel safe or valued. Johnny came to you and Solomon because he trusts you. Don't break that trust by pushing him before he's ready."

"I'm not trying to push him, but I can't just let him do whatever he wants," David asserted.

Just then, they spotted Johnny coming around the corner.

"Go talk to your son," Angelique advised as she stood up to leave. "Trust him and he'll keep trusting you."

As much as he appreciated her insights, he wasn't sure Angelique understood the responsibilities that came with being a parent. He made his way over to Johnny, still uncertain about his friend's advice.

"Oh, hey Dad! I was going to ask if you really need me tonight. It seems pretty quiet."

David started picking at his nails. "I don't know. Why, do you have something else you need to do?"

"Not really. Well, Carina did ask me to go to The Hideaway with her."

David really didn't need Johnny's help, but he bristled at the mention of Carina. "Can't you find something better to do? You know I feel about you spending time with her."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Dad, you're treating me like a child. I'm allowed to make my own decisions."

"Not when you're living in my house. Rent free I might add."

"Oh, here we go again. 'Not under my roof!' Listen to yourself. You used to be cool."

"I don't care about being cool, Johnny, I care about your safety." David's voice was getting louder as their conversation turned from banter to a full-blown argument. "You don't act like an adult when you're with Carina, so why would I treat you like one?"

"Right. This is for my own good. I'm sure you never made any mistakes when you were my age."

"I've made plenty of mistakes, but I'm not going to let this be one of them. You're staying here tonight."

"Cool, I'll just start lying about what I'm doing then. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for you to get the outfit for my second number ready. Make sure you turn the iron off when you're done."

"Fine, whatever!" Johnny stormed off. Though his words were filled with anger, it was sadness that was spread across his face. Angelique stopped him on his way to the dressing room.

"He'll come around, baby." She rubbed his back gingerly. "He just needs time. You know how he is."

Johnny hoped she was right.

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Thank you @nexility-sims for reviewing this post for me!

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3