#so sorry for the shit quality I am not home

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi!! I was hoping I could request a fic where the reader is clumsy as fuck.

And when Bucky and reader go on their first date, he notices bruises scattered over the reader and gets worried that someone in their life is hurting them. Which reader insist, "no I'm safe I'm just clumsy as shit" which he's heard too many times before so he remains unsure.

BUT as the dates go on, he begins to realise just how honest they were being. Hes constantly having to stop the reader from walking into poles and tables, he's catching things before they can hit the ground (including the reader), and when they come home he kisses all their bruises or marks.

And when they finally are becoming more intimate, he's scared of bruising/ hurting the reader and they have to convince him that they aren't made of glass and to just go for it.

Not Made Of Glass » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets worried when sees bruises on you and you assure him that you’re just clumsy.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of implied Smut (18+), language, clumsy!reader, bruises (not abuse), kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You and Bucky are on yours and his first date. As you were telling him about yourself, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that you have a couple bruises on your arm and one on your shoulder. It worried him. He’s starting to think that someone gave you those bruises.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” Bucky apologizes politely. “How did you get those bruises?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, those? My friend’s son was trying to teach me how to skateboard, but I ended up falling and that’s how I got these.” You explained.

The thought of someone abusing you lingered in his mind.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Of course I am.” You replied.

“Is someone hurting you, doll?” He asks, keeping his voice low so no one heard him.

“No, I’m safe. I’m just clumsy as shit.” You say with an assuring smile.

Bucky smiles back. He still couldn’t help but let that suspicion linger around in his mind. He’s heard that one too many times.

“The only reason why I asked is because I want to make sure you’re safe.” He says softly.

“You’re sweet to care and worry, Bucky.” You smiled. “Those are my two favorite qualities I like in a man.” You say, sipping your drink.

“If someone is hurting you, I’d make sure that won’t happen ever again.” He says.

You knew what he meant when he said that. You also know he said it to protect you. That’s another quality you like in a man. You and Bucky are going to get along just fine.

You invited Bucky out for coffee the following morning. You walked in the coffee shop, smiling when you saw Bucky. You were so happy to see Bucky again that you didn’t notice the chair next to you and you ran into it. Bucky looked up from the newspaper he was reading to see you moving a chair out of your way.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. I just didn’t see the chair.” You say with a small giggle.

You gave Bucky a kiss on his cheek before ordering coffee and sat down at the table across from him. You crossed your leg over the other. Bucky found another bruise, but this time, on your shin. It’s a little bit bigger compared to the ones on your arm and shoulder.

“What happened to your leg?” Bucky asks, pointing at the bruise on your shin.

“I walked into a tow hitch on a pickup truck a couple days ago.” You tell him honestly.

The suspicion of something abusing you is still on his mind, but he also believes your honesty. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious and suspicious of something, right?

A few days later, Bucky asked you out on another date. He went over to your house to pick you up. You invited him inside while you finished up getting ready. Bucky looked around your house, admiring the pictures and decorations.

“I’m ready!” You announced with a smile.

Bucky smiles, admiring your beauty and outfit. He winces to himself as you walked into the doorframe, hitting your arm on it as you were walking out of your bedroom.

That looked like it hurt.” Bucky says.

“Only a little bit, but I’m ok.” You say.

“May I?” He asks softly.

You nodded. Bucky gently lifted your arm up to his lips, kissing the red mark that will soon be a bruise on the side of your arm. You couldn’t help but blush when he did that.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?” You say with a smile.

“I care about you is all, doll.” He says softly.

“I care about you too, Bucky.” You say in almost a whisper.

Bucky gently caressed your cheek and kissed you softly and sweetly. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You’ve never been this mind blown by a kiss in your life.

“Woah…” You say, completely speechless when he pulled away.

Bucky smiles at the speechless expression on your face.

“You ready to go?” He asks softly.

“More than ready.” You answered with a smile.

When you and Bucky got to the restaurant, he’s starting to realize that you’re right about being a clumsy person. You almost walked into a table and he gently moved you away from it so you didn’t give yourself another bruise.

“Careful, doll.” Bucky whispers.

“I am being careful.” You say softly, kissing his cheek.

Over the next few weeks, you and Bucky went on dates every weekend. In those weeks, Bucky has been moving you away from things like tables or poles before you walked into them so you didn’t hurt yourself. Today, Bucky tagged along with you while you ran errands. Bucky swore he ages 10 years every time you run into something or almost run into something.

“Wanna get coffee?” You asked, pointing at the coffee shop across the street.

“Sure.” Bucky answers.

You and Bucky looked both ways before crossing the street. When you guys got to the other side of the street, you tripped over the curb and Bucky caught you before you fell.

“Are you ok, doll?” He asks softly.

“I am now.” You smiled up at him.

You guys went inside of the coffee shop. You somehow tripped over your own feet. Bucky grabbed your arm before you fell.

“I think it’s time to go home.” He says.

“But I want coffee.” You pouted.

You pouting is one of Bucky’s many weaknesses. He can’t say no to you when you pout.

“Ok, fine.” He gives in.

You squeaked softly and kissed his cheek. To keep you from running into anything, Bucky put his hands on your waist and guided you to the counter to order coffee. You two got coffee and then went home.

“You know what to do, doll.” Bucky says.

Bucky now kisses every bruise you get. You took your -Bucky’s- sweatshirt off and rolled your pant legs up, revealing the few bruises you got over the past couple days. You smiled as you watched him kiss each bruise on your arms softly. You then sat down on the couch and he crouched down in front of you and kissed the couple bruises you have on your legs and one on your knee.

“I love how much you care about me.” You say softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“It’s part of my job as your boyfriend to care about you, doll.” Bucky says, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” You asked.

“Only if you want to be my girlfriend.” He says.

“I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky smiles and kisses you. The kiss got heated quickly. You two fell back against the couch. He put his weight on his forearms so he didn’t crush you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you.

“You know, I don’t mind if you lay on top of me.” You say.

“I know. I just don’t want to hurt you in any way.” He says.

“You can never hurt me, baby.” You almost whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

“I just want to be cautious.” He says.

“I’m not made of glass, you know.” You say.

“I know.” He mumbles softly. “I love you so much and don’t like seeing you get hurt.” He says.

“I love you too.” You pecked his lips softly. “I won’t mind if you’re a little bit rough with me in the bedroom.” You say seductively.

Bucky leans his forehead against your shoulder and groans softly, dirty thought flowing into his mind.

“There’s safe words for a reason, baby.” You whispered in his ear.

A shiver went down his spine when you kissed just below his ear, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans softly.

Bucky stood up and picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. An excited squeal left your lips. He gently laid you down on the bed and got on top of you.

“You’ll use a safe word if I’m too rough on you?” He asks just to be sure, rubbing the tops of your thighs.

“Yes.” You answered with a smile.

“You’re in for a long night, babydoll.” He almost whispers.

“Bring it on, baby.” You say softly, bitting your bottom lip.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[naty-arty]

Heard today is his birthday but I only had this drawing done

Bonus husbands:

[wannaeatramyeon]

Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 10 - Please read chapter 1 first!

Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Graduation day is filled with cheers and tears from the rest of your classmates.

Students and parents mingling and celebrating together. Cliques and groups hugging and bidding goodbye to each other and hello to the next stage of their lives.

Impossibly lonely even in the sea of bodies and your forced cheer making you surlier as the hours crawl by, you leave your parents and friends to their own devices. Reject invites to parties and final hurrahs with a strained smile. 

Up on the rooftop, you sit in solitude as the sun sets.

(It’s a shame that you’ve gotten so close to Goo, because he has left a mark everywhere. All the places you frequent are filled with memories of him. You can’t escape.)

You watch the final group of stragglers leave school. Swaying and singing happily. Drunk on happiness or something stronger you don’t know and don’t care.

Maybe you should be feeling more about never seeing some of these people again, and yes, you’re thankful for your friends rallying around you in the last couple months yet your heart hangs heavy.

You think about what university will bring. New experiences, new friends, new love. It should be exciting but-

Your emotional battery is depleted. 

Continues to deplete every day as you look for a tall frame and blonde hair and a smile that only reaches their eyes when they look at you. 

A voice that cuts through the rest of the humdrum, loud and crass and a touch manic. 

Words you know you should never trust, that worms its way into your heart anyway. 

And a nickname, just for you-

‘Princess.’

It’s been months though you can hear him as clear as day.

“Princess?” A voice calls out again. Have you missed him so much you start hearing things? Are you so delirious with your sadness, about being ghosted that your mind has conjured up a perfect echo?

The bleached hair, sharp eyes behind glasses and sardonic smile moves into your line of vision.

As if he hasn’t disappeared for months, as if he just said be right back and gone away for 10 minutes. He gives you a little wave. Casual as anything. Waggling his fingers like you’re supposed to find it cute.

“Goo Kim?”

“That’s me!” he says, approaching you with a spring in his step.

You know this could never be a figment of your imagination. You could never imagine this full complexity of Goo Kim; anything your brain dreams of is just a pale imitation of the real thing. You can never fully capture the confident strut, the way his lips lifts and reveals a faint dimple, the long elegant fingers adjusting his glasses, the way the breeze catches his hair. 

You’ve thought about him so much that now seeing him with all his layers, all his charms, completely dazzles and blinds you.

Discomfort overwhelms Goo the closer he gets, finds the front harder to put up.

He’s missed you. 

Had hoped that absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder and much preferring out of sight, out of mind. 

It’s a loss he had allowed to rest and soak into his bones, thinking that that was the way to deal with these frivolous sentiments. Tried to lick his wounds and patch it up with money. Thought he had gotten used to it; could happily live with it as long as he achieved the lifestyle to match his ambition.

Goo didn’t realise exactly how much he missed you, how much his soul aches at not seeing you, hearing you, touching you until you’re standing right there.

He doesn’t know what to do with all this.

Goo stops within arms reach and you both stare. Taking each other in. A classic smirk painted on his face and disbelief on yours. 

How had you become so entangled? You were supposed to be like oil and water.

“Bastard,” is all you manage as tears spring to your eyes and nostrils burn. You avert your gaze, dropping it to the floor, ashamed at your outburst. 

That he is the same as ever, unruffled and nonchalant, and you are vulnerable and weak.

You try to quiet your sniffles by biting your lip, try to not bring your hand to your face to wipe your tears. That would make it obvious.

(Like it isn’t already.)

If you stand there and don’t make a move, don’t make a sound, then you can fade into the background, becoming invisible and Goo wouldn’t know the effect he has had on you.

A firm hand gives you an awkward pat on the head, and then with a gentleness that makes your heart hurt, pulls your body against his and into his arms.

“Who’s making you cry?” Goo makes a strained effort to inject levity and amusement into his tone to hide his own emotions “Tell me and I’ll beat them up.”

Even so, his voice cracks at the last word. 

Like a rupture of a dam, your arms come up around his neck and you let your tears flow.

“Ugh! Do you know how expensive this coat is?!” His actions don't match up to his words, just holding you tighter to him.

An unsuspecting wet laugh bubbles up and out. This is the least of what he deserves. You hope it stains and never washes out.

You wipe your eyes and rub your nose on his clothing with no remorse. 

And you know, being here in his arms, that it feels like you’re letting Goo off easy.

You have so much rage and so much mistrust that you don’t know where to start. You have so many questions and you want to demand so many answers. 

Yet him appearing in the here and now doesn’t feel like a coincidence. You can hear the clock ticking, counting down the borrowed time together.

As you rest your head on his shoulder, smelling the expensive cologne but with the undertone that is distinctly Goo, you wonder what to ask first, to say first.

You rummage through your mind, picking through your grief and heartache, searching how you can put into words the explanations you need right here right now so you don’t have to live with regret and what-ifs forever.

The buzzing in your brain quiets then disappears, and you think you’re ready.

There’s a lot you know about Goo Kim. You don’t need him to recount his feelings for you. His actions and behaviour during your brief time together make it clear.

Instead-

A bitter question that you need to resolve.

To know if you should treat this as closure and move on. Or if there is any hope.

“Is this goodbye?” 

You’re not sure if Goo can hear you, your voice thick with tears and muffled against his neck, but his body stills and you feel it.

He hums, deliberating over your words. The subtle and intimate vibrations of his throat reverberates through you too.

Goo doesn’t know.

Really. This is messy enough as it is and will only get messier. Probably too messy, too dangerous and resulting only in more heartache. For you, for him, for both.

You’ll be a weakness, a fatal soft spot that he has no use for. A flaw with bright flashing arrow heads for enemies to target.

But the need to see you today, a final farewell on your graduation overrode everything else.

(Gun only gave him a knowing glance when he announced he was taking a personal day in a tone that left no room for argument)

This visit was supposed to close a very bizarre chapter in his life. 

Post-juvie and pre-HNH.

A stop gap, a temporary distraction.

Just a last little bit of novel normalcy before Goo’s life is upturned forever. Onto much better and much bigger things.

Yet.

Here you are.

Entering in his life when he needed you the least but wanted you the most.

You.

Resembling more and more like lightning in a bottle. A once in a lifetime opportunity. Too good to pass up.  

And here Goo is.

He can’t give you up. Only a fool would do so without seeing how it plays out.

Goo doesn’t know why he’s still thinking about it.

The fact he is here at all is answer enough.

Releasing a breath, he tells you “No.” 

“No?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“Oh.”

You let his word, that single syllable sit with you.

Settle into your body. Grow familiar with what it means.

No.

You’re not sure if the no is for right now or for forever. You think this is good enough. You think you can live with any future heartache if you can spend more time with Goo now. 

Live in the present and all that.

“Princess?” At his questioning tone, you turn to look at him.

Goo takes in your pink nose, the tear tracks running down your cheeks, your red eyes; he sees everything he has felt for you reflected in your face.

You study his features, refamiliarising yourself. You always knew Goo Kim was handsome, but now he seems ethereal. Wearing an expression you haven’t seen before, a look in his eyes that seems wilder than ever and a face that is absolutely enamoured. 

Goo brings his hand up to wipe away the last of your tears, running it along your jaw then thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I’ve wondered about this for so long,” he murmurs, leaning close, pressing your body fully along his. Until he didn’t know where his ended and yours began.

Closer and closer he inches, until you're everything he sees, until he can only feel your breath mingling with his, until there is no space left between your lips and his.

He kisses, at first gentle and cautious, before finally pouring in all of himself.

He kisses in a way that is purely Goo Kim, a little feral, a little teasing and a lot fun.

When you both finally break apart, it clicks into place.

This is everything Goo has been searching for.

[two-white-butterflies]

★ — it was all yellow | carlos sainz

Description: After finding Carlos in bed with an internet starlet, you decided to break up with him. 5 years later, you meet him again.

Pairing: actress/singer!reader/carlos sainz

Trope: Secret Baby Trope

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: I got so many requests for this typa trope and I only got the idea now. Super sorry for the 6 month delay WAHHAHA.

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yn.ln: the vibe that we bring to the function. btw 💚 HOTDS2 is out!

liked by danielricciardo and 71,923 others

>comments

danielricciardo: Helaena Targaryen >>> - edited: Helaena Targaryen <<<

echibano82: MAN!! 😭

ynforever: the rise and fall of a midwest princess is my fav album of urs

formula.unoworld: sainz fumbled a baddie

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because.official: Carlos and Pinon 😘❤️ #MyHeart

liked by carlossainz55 and 6,293 others

>comments

foreveryoung78: Wake up Carlos the fatherhood allegations are strong today

solonglondon: U ever heard of a boy named Pablo Sainz? 😳

bestfriendsfw: miss Because...go and tell ur mans - landofanbase: HER NAME ALWAYS TAKES ME OUT 😭 WHY IS HER STAGE NAME "BECAUSE"

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WHO IS CARLOS SAINZ'S NEW GIRLFRIEND? BECAUSE...

Brezziana Aziza, whose stage name is Because has gained fame because of her relationship with Formula One Driver Carlos Sainz Jr. Previously known on social media as an influencer who vlogs about her daily life, netizens began to call her "Because" well because of her excessive use of that word.

Although she has stopped using that word since, the name has stuck. She is currently under fire for visiting a Shein Factory in China. For more details please click this link: Shein sent American influencers to China.

>comments

becauseunitedfanbase: she's so funny n quirky i get it why carlos loves her

breatheinlouder: if pablo does belong to sainz, brezziana broke a family up - corduroy8chan: the family broke because sainz allowed it to be broken, she's homewrecker because...? - becauseunitedfanbase: more like home renovator

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Just an Inchident (Charles L., Max V., Lando N., Carlos S.)

Carlos Sainz holy shit guys did you see twitter

Charles Leclerc Yeah man Is it real?

Lando Norris i did some research and this kid's 6-4 yrs old there's a chance mates

Carlos Sainz how am i even supposed to ask her? it was so awkward when it ended i totally regret doing that to her but im so happy with because now

Charles Leclerc There's a fat chance that the kid is yours man

Lando Norris ask her like a civilized man dude i saw a reel where someone asked her if pablos yours

Max Verstappen Who uses reels mate? 🤣 2 reacted 🤣

Lando Norris well she avoided the question silence means yes if you aren't the father she'd answer it

Carlos Sainz maybe she wants to torture me

Charles Leclerc She's a good person man I don't think that she'll do that Plus she's above using her son for leverage

Carlos Sainz and how do you know that Charles? we haven't spoken to her in years

Max Verstappen She grabs coffee with Victoria on Tuesdays I've actually known about Pablo for a while now

Carlos Sainz 👍🏻 2 reacted 🤣

Max Verstappen 👍🏻 .

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yn.ln: i want a velaryon burial #HOTDS2

liked by 93,192 others

>comments

danielricciardo: the camera quality sucks just letting you know - yn.ln: thanks! i have eyes btw

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yn.ln: A lot of you wanted to comment and ask questions about my son, and I never really posted about him because I'm not like those parents who use their kids on social media for likes and clout.

Five years ago, I gave birth to my first baby, Pablo L/N (09/12/18) and every day has been filled with laughter and warmth 🦋 he was not a secret, but I tried to keep his life private. Now, a lot of people feel like they have the right to know everything about him. What he looks like. Who his father is. I'm telling you that it doesn't matter.

You don't have the right to his face. You don't have the right to know about his family life because it doesn't concern you and it never will.

Thank you so much to my friends!! @danielricciardo @rileykeough #DakotaJohnson and #ChrisMartin

liked by 1,239,901 others

>comments

danielricciardo: ❤️

rileykeough: 🥺 i love you and p

victoriaverstappen: We love you! - yn.ln: thank you vic, playdate with luka and lio soon? - victoriaverstappen: Absolutely!

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email to destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com

Good morning Dessie.

This is Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist, Daniel Kirkman, in light of the rumors between my client and Miss Y/N L/N we humbly request the truth about Pablo L/N's paternity in order to legally and publicly clear things up. Speaking as your old friend, these past few months have been stressful both physically and mentally. Even if there's a sliver of hope that the kid is Carlos' please update me.

Warm regards, Daniel Kirkman.

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email to danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

Good afternoon Mr. Kirkman.

I can see that the years have hardly changed you, you still have horrible email etiquette. Because we are old friends, I spoke to Y/N. Truth is, the things that I'm going to share today will ruin your client's reputation if our emails are ever leaked. Remember the fallout of 2018? We both celebrated New Years in Y/N's Santa Monica House.

Actually, New Years was the day we found out that she was pregnant. Not a doubt in our hearts that the baby was Carlos'. We were about to tell him but the moment we landed in Ibiza, she saw Carlos in bed with Brezziana. (I refuse to call her Because!! BECAUSE it is confusing and preposterous.)

I think that hiding Pablo from his father wasn't right, but I don't blame her for doing it. As for the paternity test, Y/N agreed but the team will come back to you with the legalities and such. As a 'friend' I want to tell you that the best Carlos is ever going to have is him paying child support and seeing the child once or twice a month.

Y/N has a lot of lawyers, more than we do friends. And judging by Carlos' personality, I don't think that he'll fight for his son.

Warm Regards, Destiny Bumgarner

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email to destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com

Good evening Destiny! What makes you think that Y/N's going to win the legalities? + I never expected you to reveal all of this via chat. You sure that I won't betray you?

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email to danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

I got dealt with the winning hand now Dan.

I know you're smart enough not to doubt me. :)

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email to destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com

All is fair in connections and clientele?

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email to danielkirkmanhq@gmail.com (Y/N L/N publicist) from destinybumgarneroffice@gmail.com (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

All is fair in life, Dan.

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oliviacooke: sorry for drinking your juice hun. 📸 pablo l/n

liked by 283,192 others

>comments

yn.ln: haha thanks for carrying his bags liv

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There are only two things. Truth and lies.

Truth is indivisible, hence it cannot recognize itself; anyone who wants to recognize it has to be a lie.

The past that you've tried to bury has slowly began to reveal itself. Maybe it was your fault, you aren't sure...

Carlos Sainz was a horrible man. He cheated on you. He didn't apologize. He admitted that another woman made him happier. Was there something special about her? A simple internet starlet with no proper claim to fame made him feel more alive.

"You've got to face him anyways." Dakota placed a glass of wine on the coffee table. "Pablo isn't his. He doesn't even look like him." you shook your head, unable to accept the inevitable truth.

"I've read all the posts on Twitter, they don't think that I have the right to push my son away from his father. Carlos is immature, I don't think that he's even capable of being a father." you scoff, taking a sip.

Haven't you given your son everything that he needed? An iPad, a big house, private education, and vacations in all the nice places.

"Two wrongs don't make a right." Destiny breathed.

"- from what Kirkman says, Carlos has changed. I don't encourage you to be romantic partners or even best friends, but please be civil for Pablo. Please let him have a civil relationship with his father." she added. "I hate it when you're right." you looked away.

You've seen his posts. You've seen his interviews.

There wasn't a bone in his body that screamed mischievousness anymore. He looked tame. Happier.

He achieved all of that without you, and maybe you could be that too.

You can be everything without him too.

"So you'll talk to him?" Dakota asked.

"I'll give it a try." I relented.

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Look at the stars.

Look how they shine for you.

The music played in the background as you sashayed your way into the VIP section of your friend's restaurant. Destiny was an angel enough to close shop and ensure that your privacy was protected especially in these vulnerable moments.

A sigh escapes your mouth, hearing that song in the background. As much as you adored Chris Martin, this song was getting in your feels.

You take a sharp turn, halting once you see his figure.

The very same man that shattered your world in Ibiza. The very same man that looked you in the eyes while he admitted that someone else made him much much happier than you, his fiancee.

And it was called Yellow.

"Thank you so much for being here, Y/N." your name sounded soft on his lips. Behind his brown eyes, there was sorrow - not to be confused with regret because he looked better than he ever was. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" you chuckled.

While nothing about you has changed.

Carlos has changed drastically.

"Destiny told me about the emails. Your team wanted a paternity test, right? You don't need it, Pablo is yours." you decided to be straightforward, not bothering to sugarcoat the truth.

You could feel that bitterness on your throat, like tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes, like you just swallowed a pill and forgot to drank water afterwards.

"Uhh - I found out on New Years day, and I wanted to tell you in Ibiza." you didn't bother to continue the story. He knows what you mean.

For you I'd bleed myself dry.

"I'm sorry, really sorry for not being a man. I know that we were about to get married, and I got scared. I was 24 years old, everyone was telling me that I had another life ahead of me. I was young. I wanted to ruin my life. I-I shouldn't have brought you with me." he apologized, trying to find the words that could articulate his feelings.

This was all that you needed from him.

An apology.

"When Destiny found out, she grabbed me by the ear. Told me that I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve you. I believe her, and I want to do everything to make it up to you and Pablo." he promised, but there were still words unsaid - the turn of his brows telling you that he wasn't willing to return back to normal.

That he still loves Because more than he's ever loved you.

"Do you love her?" you smiled bitterly. Your smile.

Look how they shine for you.

"I betrayed both of you that night. She didn't know that we were dating. She didn't know who I was. I apologized to her and she forgave me, but I realized a few years after that I should've apologized to you too." he admitted. "- I love her, really."

You knew that he wasn't lying.

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destinybumgarner: this is the PINK PONY CLUB

liked by 712 others

>comments

yn.ln: WAHAHAH IM JUST HAVING FUN

danielkirkman: crowns c / o pablo the prince

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part two

A/N What driver or actor should we pair reader with? 😭 comment to get tagged

[luigibigeater]

running on e / pt. 1

--- luigi breaks into the wrong apartment ---

notes: part 1 of (i think?) 2, finally contributing luigi smut to the site and i'm so excited :). this is very back n forth and all over the place so far so i rly appreciate any feedback, thoughts, requests, etc <3

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think anyone lived here—” is the first and last thing the intruder can utter before the girl takes him out in one clean strike with a kitchen pan. 

When Luigi comes to, his hands are tied securely to the old-fashioned furnace behind him with a pink rope that seems intended for shibari. The initial onset of panic is eclipsed by confusion: the warm weight on his legs is the slumbering body of a plump black cat who seems to have made a home for itself on his lap. A girl sits upon a cushion directly across the room from him with her legs crossed and her eyes closed as if lost in profound meditation. She’s surrounded by dozens of tiny tealight flames, the sole lightsource. 

The room is white and sparse, furnished by no more than a frameless mattress and an overlarge mirror, but it’s warm nonetheless in the buttery candlelight. The rich oriental rug which covers much of the floor is all the color offered by the space. 

Luigi has no fucking idea what to do so he simply sits still, hoping he’ll find some way out of this before the girl’s eyes open. His coat, shoes, and mask are all still on but he can see his backpack discarded in the darkness of the next room and it looks rifled through. The cat stirs at the slightest of his tugs against the binding and it glares at him with its big golden eyes. As if psychically connected to her pet, the girl’s gaze fixes on him not a moment later. They share in a minute or so of silent staring and her expression maintains such unbroken placidity that Luigi can’t repress the nervous chuckle that crackles out of him.

“So,” he begins, swallowing thickly. “What the fuck?”

“You can relax, I’m not calling any cops on you.” The cat resumes its previous position, at ease. 

“So what am I tied up for?”

“Because my home is not a place for men to roam free.”

“Right, okay, that’s fair. And, um—if you were to call the cops—it would be for…breaking in…or?” Luigi tries to tread lightly, tries to keep his face flat and neutral, but he knows how expressive he can be. 

“I know who you are, if that’s what you’re asking. But I won’t call the cops on you for that either.” 

“Thank you,” he exhales shakily, heavily relieved despite the persistent lack of clarity. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Seemed like you really needed a place to stay so I’ve given you one. But I have my rules.” The girl’s eyes narrow at Luigi; he nods with the eager petulance of a child who craves approval while his gaze wanders mischievously down to where her nipples protrude through a snug white tank. She scoffs lightly and closes her eyes once more.

“I’m super grateful for it. Um, your hospitality.” Luigi shifts around, trying to get comfortable despite the rope. The girl ignores him and he chews his lip as he racks his mind for something to say, wondering if this is one of those sticky scenarios he can charm his way out of. Something tells him it’s not. Though physically attractive, there’s an undeniable strangeness about his captor, an almost supernatural quality, as unsettling as it is endearing, and he wonders if he should be more afraid. Some of the candles around her are close enough to singe the bare skin of her legs but she seems unperturbed. 

“Your cat is really sweet,” Luigi tries, pouting beneath his mask in a way girls have called cute before. “Wish I could pet her…”

The girl laughs breathily, eyes still closed in denial of him, as if perceiving his thoughts. And indeed Luigi was trying to convince himself that if she would just look at him, just take down his mask so he could show off his smile, he would get whatever he wanted. 

“So, are you meditating? Cause I love to meditate. But, I mean, my mind can race like crazy when I do it so I have to make up mantras to interrupt my thoughts. Just over and over, anything I can focus on. Usually affirmations, you know, like ‘I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy.’ Sometimes even just one word can do the trick too, of course, like ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“—up! Shut the fuck up!” 

“I’m just trying to center you, trust me, it’ll help. Just listen to my voice: fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Luigi,” the girl groans as she begins moving her candles aside, one by one. His blood cools at the sound of his government name; it’s confirmation that she does indeed know who she is.

“God, Luigi,” the girl crawls across the room toward him with one little flame in hand. His breath intensifies as she grabs his chin roughly, easing his mask down with her fingers, letting them tease open his lips. Brows clenched together, bambi eyes trembling in the weak light, he’s sex personified, and the girl sighs lustily, delighted to find the real man even better than the pictures. Their mutual arousal is tangible at this distance: him at the scent of jasmine in her hair, her at the trickle of partially dried blood at his hairline where the pan made contact. 

“Wh- what are you—” Luigi gasps when the hot wax hits his cheek. “Owwwww, what the fuck?”

“I know what you’re doing, trying to catch me with my guard down, you fuck, fuck, fuck. Not gonna happen.” She crawls away so that he can see her ass peaking out of pajama shorts. He takes the sight in greedily.

“Jesus Christ, I feel like you just jizzed on me. This is so fucking weird,” he keens, trying to rub the wax off onto his shoulder, watching curiously as she goes into her nearly vacant closet. 

“Behave before it gets weirder,” she says as she comes back with fabric balled in her hand. “Oh, and don’t touch the baby.” The girl squats down again to wrench her cat from his lap.

“I didn’t touch anything! The baby touched me,” Luigi taunts, making no effort to conceal what’s now so hard to miss in his pants. 

“She gets it. There’s something very touchable about you,” the girl murmurs, face nuzzled into the fur on her cat’s neck so that all Luigi can see are her eyes. He can’t help the way his cock pulses. She doesn’t miss it.

“Yeah, you look pretty touchable too, like, kinda fucking hot…” Eyes glossy, flushed, they take each other in for a few silent beats that are marked only by the sounds of the city beyond them. 

“Alright, well, I actually need you to shut the fuck up now. I have reading to do, so,” she places her cat aside gently and moves her wadded panties toward his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Luigi starts to ramble again, panicking. “Can I please just piss first? Please, please just let me use your toilet real quick and then I promise I’ll follow all your rules. Assuming you have a toilet, I dunno, you don’t have much in here. But you know all about me, right, so you probably know about my back and my fucked up bladder? Please? Please, you don’t want me to ruin your carpet, do you?”

The girl grows visibly annoyed and, again, takes hold of his face harshly so that she can force her makeshift gag into his mouth, finishing it off with a scarf. Her stomach flips at the desperation in his eyes, the pathetic sounds he manages around the fabric, the way his hips jerk. She backs away so she can take it all in.

He doesn’t seem any more or less upset when she retrieves his journal, the one she’d found in his backpack, from under her mattress. She stretches out across her carpet on her stomach to read, not too far from him, her ass arching up and her top plunging to multiply his torture. 

They stay that way for a while, the girl humming occasionally when she likes an idea in his writing, Luigi shifting his legs occasionally in discomfort. “I like your mind,” she tells him. At a certain point, he starts to whimper loudly enough that she loses focus (but never loudly enough for any neighbors to hear). 

“What, Luigi?” The girl huffs, dropping the notebook. His rhythmic noises take on a new quality as if he’s saying please, please, please. Every part of his body absolutely begs for relief: thick brows taut, eyes watery, the curls at his forehead beginning to dampen with sweat, jaw clenching hard around the gag. His hips rock languidly with a fluency that makes the girl ache, her thighs squeezing together.

“The more you do that, the more I want to wreck you. You can just let it out, you know, I obviously don’t give a fuck. Actually, no, I think I’d really, really like to watch you piss right here and embarrass yourself. You deserve it for ruining my night and scaring the fuck out of me. Bet you regret breaking in here now, huh? A grown fucking man with an annoying ass mouth just absolutely degrading himself for me, I think I like that a lot. I wish you’d just fucking do it already, Luigi, just fucking let go for me. And then we’ll see what other disgusting shit I can make you do.”

Luigi cuts her trail of words off with a grunt so depraved that it borders on bestial, jaw so tight that veins are showing, face flushed like he’s excited about this too. The girl laughs with pleasure to see the physical proof that he’s finally given up and given in. She reaches over to free him from the gag.

At first he looks disgusted with her, almost angry, lips furled and swollen, chest heaving. 

“Can you ever forgive me?” She teases, leaning closer to him than she’d ever been. 

“No. You’re fucking insane,” he growls. But as Luigi stares into the girl’s eyes, at the sinister humor in her expression, as he regains his composure, breath evening out, he laughs, slumping with newfound relief. “Fuck.”

“Finally out of things to say?”

Luigi lurches forward, suddenly freed, and grabs the girl's throat with one hand while using the other to pin her arms behind her back. She doesn’t protest, to his surprise, keeping quiet and pliant as he ties her wrists behind her.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, giving the rope one final tug for reassurance. She shakes her head no. Luigi carries her over to her bed like she’s a doll and sits her down on it. He removes his coat, places his journal back in his bag, takes out his gun, fiddles with it, rolls up his sleeves, blows out the candles, turns on the ceiling lamp, paces the room back and forth, gaze shifting between the girl and the floor, the girl and the floor.

“Are you mustering up the courage to kill me?”

“What? No! I’m—” Luigi cuts himself off and squats before her so that their faces are only a few inches apart. “Look, I don’t know what to do. I’m fucking fucked, as you well know, and sooner or later I’ll get caught. I broke in here because I thought this apartment was vacant. It didn’t cross my mind that it might belong to a psychotic minimalist. I need to take a fucking shower because you fucking made me piss myself and I don’t trust you to sit here unsupervised. I also think I want to fuck the shit out of you but I can’t tell if that’d be wrong or not given the dynamic we find ourselves in but, at the same time, I’m not the one who started it…”

The girl stares poutily at him, refusing to answer for a few seconds. 

“Finally out of things to say?” He jeers, mocking her voice by putting on a higher pitch. The girl spits in his eye forcefully and Luigi doesn’t hesitate to slap her so hard that her ears ring. But the way she turns to look back at him, her bottom lip clasped hard between her teeth, gives him all the clarity he needs.

“Get the fuck up,” he barks, tugging her to her feet by the hair. He stands behind her, several inches taller, his front flush against her back, and she watches in the mirror as he bites down on the side of her neck. He glances at their reflection, teeth still busy devastating the sensitive skin, as he shoves her top up to her collarbone with one hand and shoves the other down the front of her shorts, moaning at the sight of it all.

It’s not a shock to him that she’s already wet against his fingers as they go to circle her clit a few times but it racks his body with another pathetically pleasured noise nonetheless. She can feel his chest vibrate with the sound. 

“You know you moan like a bitch,” she simpers, testing him, and it earns her another harsh slap, this time to the ass. Luigi then draws his gun out from where he’d tucked it in the waistband of his pants and slowly raises the barrel to her temple. 

“You like talking like you’re still in charge, huh?” He speaks softly, right up against her ear, and she can’t tell if she’s shaking with fear or arousal. “That’s okay, it’s okay. Daddy’ll show you who’s in charge. Let daddy show you, hm?”

Luigi nudges the cool gun harder into her head as if to remind her that it’s there before momentarily retiring to retrieve a chair from the room over. He forces her to sit facing the mirror, tearing her panties and shorts off in a motion so rough that it leaves scratches, before pressing his face hard between her legs like he wants to disappear there.

Now it’s the girl’s turn to croon her desire. As the night’s events had already proven, Luigi loves heavy eye contact. And that doesn’t change as he licks at her ferally, spits on her already soaked cunt, and nibbles at her clit till she’s writhing. 

“Daddy, daddy,” she chants as he tongue fucks her, shocking herself with her own pliancy. She claws at her own hands bound behind her, wishing she could fist them in the tight coils of his hair. The restraint only doubles her pleasure. “Jesus, fuck, I—”

“Huh? What is it?” He pauses his determined movements to speak, lapping slowly at her while he waits for a reply. She whines in frustration and he smirks while catching his breath. He flutters his lashes up at her, humming, “did you need to tell me something?”

“Just that- if- if you want to make me cum, you should use your fingers,” she manages. He raises his eyebrows (ugh, God, you know what I mean) in a way that makes her stomach ache with want and he has to lean back a bit to dodge her desperate thrusts. 

“Ohhh, that’s what you want. See that’s a good use of your mouth, telling daddy what you want. Not that I’m always gonna give it to you so readily,” he grins as he takes firm hold of one hip to control her stuttering pelvis. 

He pushes inside gently with his middle and ring finger to start, just a knuckle in, and then tastes the slickness greedily on his tongue, adding even more wetness to the mix with his saliva. One cheek resting on her inner thigh, he watches his hand move in and out torturously for a few thrusts before latching his lips hungrily back onto her clit. 

It goes on like that for a bit, Luigi attentive to her body’s responses so that he can nail the rhythm she so badly craves. She stares in awe of him, her moans unrestrained, and she feels her attraction toward him taking on a dangerous edge as it transcends the physical plane. It’s him, fuck, I fucking want him, she whimpers internally. His writing, his wisdom, his brilliance, his sharpness, his cockiness, his humor, his bravery. He’s probably going away for good and this is the only time I’ll know him and here he is eating me out like I’m his final meal on death row…

Luigi’s excitement seems to intensify when he notices her crying and she can’t help but cum without warning the moment he starts humming against her like he’s the one getting head. It’s everything about him that causes her to seize up, thighs squeezing around him, before releasing; it's the sight of him rubbing himself through his pants like a virgin, too excited to practice restraint, and it’s how lost he seems in the act of pleasuring her, despite his insistence that he’s the one in control. 

He doesn’t ask what the motive is behind her tears but he wipes them on the sleeve of his shirt with concerned care, pointlessly so as they have yet to cease flowing. Each time they lock eyes, she suspects he can understand her, and this time is no different. Still on his knees, Luigi presses his head into her stomach so he can reach around and untie her wrists for her. She holds his head there against her torso, sobbing into his curls, grateful she can finally card her hands through them. He draws soothing circles into her thighs, letting himself be held. 

When she finally calms a bit, he pulls back to ask in all seriousness if he’d hurt her. She insists that he hadn’t. She doesn’t tell him how badly it hurts to know that he’ll likely never know freedom again, that this country will make a symbol of his young life, that she’ll probably never see him again. 

“Luigi, I’m sorry,” the girl deftly reaches down his back to snatch his gun and then wrenches his head back by the hair so she can press the barrel just past his lips.

“This is such a stu’id ‘ucking ga’e,” he groans, words partially impeded by the cold steel intrusion. She laughs and he finds himself grinning at the wild contrast between the display of humor and her tragically lovely tear-stained face.

“What game?” This time it’s his turn to get slapped, teeth knocking painfully against the gun.

“You’re ‘ucking crazy…” he musters, moaning uninhibitedly at the contradictory pleasure of being degraded.

[torturedfujoshidepartment]

May I please see some general Bill dating headcanons? I'd prefer fem, but gn is great too! Thank you.

⚠️General dating HCs for bill⚠️

(I am writing about epilogue bill

ヽ(*´∀｀) )

Cw: mention of physical abuse, bill being a creep, this man is walking caution warning

Rating: suggestive

⚠️people will say this till the cows come home. Bill is a asshole naturally.

⚠️So if by some luck you manage to woo him, good speed 🫡

⚠️ Bills ideal type is all over the place. If you like the same nerd shit as him he’ll either be all over it or say you’re doing it for his attention.

⚠️PDA is a big no go from your end, he’ll only touch you (arm around your waist/ hand on your ass) if he’s trying to “show off”

⚠️He doesn’t bring up the fact he’s dating unless someone brings up his relationship status to bully him

⚠️“actually, I have a girlfriend unlike you tards!”

⚠️And never brings it up again 😭

⚠️ If you steal his shirts to wear, be prepared to get your ass kicked.

⚠️“YOURE GOING TO STRETCH THEM OUT!!!”

⚠️ If he’s feeling nice he’ll let you borrow one to sleep in

⚠️If he finds out you use it as a pillow case or actually wear it he’ll call you clingy (his face is practically red)

⚠️Bill doesn’t like cuddling if you initiate it, he HAS TO BE the big spoon (you end up being the big spoon)

⚠️If you are doing something, bill will stand behind you and stare at you silently. breathing down your neck. He doesn’t realize how creepy it is

🤍“why are you looking at me?”

⚠️ “…what?”

⚠️ If you’re shorter than Bill, be prepared to be his armrest. He’ll stand over you and rest his chin on your head just to piss you off if you’re not giving him attention

⚠️He’s like a cat. A stinky one

⚠️He’ll only shower regularly if it means joining you in the shower…will ask to play with your boobs

⚠️ “C’mon just one squee-“

🤍“Wash your ass bill you stink!”

⚠️Bills gross, he’ll go through your dirty laundry to sniff your clothes (he’ll gaslight you if you catch him in the act

⚠️Will make you sit though his favourite and least favourite movies

⚠️“the producers totally ruined the second movie with this woke bullshit!”

🤍 “Mhm…yeah”

⚠️Most fights between him and you end in a physical confrontation (yeah, it’s rough out here. Women’s shelter down the block bro😭)

⚠️After these fights he’ll silently stare at you and mumble, “sorry…” and hug you.

⚠️He obviously thinks this absolves him of any wrong doings, you make him sleep on the couch for a week

⚠️if you two go to a con, he’ll make you dress up.

⚠️“It’s different when you’re doing it you’re not some cosplay whore!”

🤍“Thanks…?”

⚠️His dorky ass will bring his good quality camera to take photos of you (creep shots)

🤍“Bill, do you have to stand under me…”

⚠️ “Yes.”

over all bill is a shithead and if you stay will him that’s on you gang😭

[thatlittlered]

time warp | aaron hotchner

warning(s): none, just hotch being delicious

GIF by @katebeckets

part one

author's note: I have never updated a story this fast in my life. Another part is coming tomorrow.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

The door to his office is open, chatter from the bullpen reaching him when you all get too loud. He can tell Morgan is pestering you about something and the others have gathered around to listen.

“You only have one watch?”

“How many watches do other people have? You act like it’s insane.”

Spencer, like always, feels the need to interject, “I have three.”

You sigh, abandoning your pen and notes.

“I have another one but that’s my grandmother’s, I can’t wear it to work.”

Derek is not satisfied with your answer.

“You have a thousand pieces of jewelry.”

“I know!”

“You are wearing most of them right now.”

“I know, Morgan, you can stop bullying me now.” You pout at him and he pouts back, but his grin is indicator enough that he’s not even close to finished with you.

“Where do you even spend your paychecks, sweetheart?”

“Important stuff. Like shoes.”

“I only have one pair of shoes aside of my trainers.”

Emily laughs, “Yeah, we know that, Spence. Their time is coming to an end, by the way.”

Morgan zeroes in on you again, poking a finger into your knee to get a reaction.

“How many pairs of shoes do you have exactly? Fifteen? Twenty?”

“They were twenty… at some point.”

Triumph.

You almost can’t stand his shit-eating grin.

“There you go. Too bad you don’t get to wear them here.”

“Where do you spend yours? A lifetime’s supply of V-necks at GAP?”

You stand up from your chair, eager to get away from this conversation.

“You’re only mean to me because you know I’ll love you anyway.”  

“Maybe.”

He puts his hand over his heart in feign hurt. Garcia mutters something about a woman’s right to shoes in your defense and you kiss her cheek to thank her on your way to the kitchenette. Aaron still watches from his seat and squirms uncomfortably when he sees Morgan follow you.

You take his mug and pour you both some coffee while he takes a seat, thanking you. You don’t even see Hotch come in.

“Did your watch get lost?”

You almost spill your coffee at the baritone of his voice. Everything he says comes out so official, so professional, as if speaking orders, but not at that beach under the sunrise. Who was he then?

“Yes, it did. Totally on its own and not because I keep leaving my stuff in random places and not looking after them properly.”

“Maybe that’s why you spend so much on stuff, if you keep losing them.”

You quirk a brow at Derek, leaning over him menacingly from your position.

“I swear to God, Morgan, this might be the day you officially lose my affection.”

He takes the cup you’ve poured for him from your hand and slowly walks backwards in resignation.

“No, please, I didn’t mean it.”

You smile at each other and you point a finger at him. Hotch watches with a frown.

“Tread lightly.”

When Morgan’s gone, he can finally step closer to you. Getting to the coffee machine is only the excuse.

“You know, you’re really good at keeping him in check. Maybe you should be in charge here.”

You smile into your cup, “That’s alright, we already have a boss and he’s okay.”

“Oh, is he? Good to know, I can’t wait to have that all over my evaluation files next year.”

You nod. The fabric of his suit jacket brushes against your arm while he pours.

“Some might even use the words ‘pretty good’.”

He hums, “So eloquent.”

Your smile deepens, nose wrinkling upwards in a way that now really can’t be hidden in your cup.

-.-.-

It’s almost time for everyone to head home and for once, he’s trying really hard to make it out of the office before sundown; maybe spend some quality time with Jack.

There’s a knock on his door before it opens and he’s about to send whoever it is away but-

“Hi, sorry, am I interrupting?”

He looks up, uncharacteristically disoriented.

“Uh, no-no, come in.”

“Are you coming to Rossi’s tonight?”

He’s dumbfounded.

“I’m not really sure yet, I have some errands to run when I’m done here.”

“Oh, okay… I just found some old Marvel comics and I thought Jack might like to have them, but I didn’t bring them with me. Maybe I could give them to you tonight? That is, if you make it.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, of course not, I just-”, he exhales, “I’ll be there.”

You smile and nod, ready to leave.

“Maybe I could give you a ride and you can give them to me then. I mean,” his thumb scratches his bottom lip uncomfortably, “your place is practically on the way.”

“Have you ever been to my place?”

Aaron laughs awkwardly, “No.”

“But you seem to know what you’re talking about, so I’m going to put my faith in you. Pick me up at seven?”

“That works.”

-.-.-

It’s not even half past six when he rings your doorbell and you open the door still clad in pjs.

“You are so early.”

Hotch suddenly looks so small for such a usually imposing man. He stands in your doorway with nervous hands in his pockets and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him act like this before.

“I’m sorry, I can wait in the car if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay, come in. I think I knew deep down that you would be; just not by this much.”

 He clears his throat and moves inside to now stand awkwardly at the apartment’s entrance, “I’m sorry, I started way too early from my house. Overestimated how long it would take to get here.”

Your interactions do something to warp his sense of time.

“That’s okay, Aaron, really. You’re just going to have to give me a few minutes because I haven’t had the time to get ready yet.”

He watches, frozen in his place, while you walk towards the kitchen.

“Do you need anything? Coffee, orange juice?”

He almost smiles to himself. He just knew you’d be the type of person to always keep the fridge fully stocked even if you’re barely ever home. He likes the confirmation that he knows you, despite his inability to really make conversation and establish familiarity. He grasps at straws; little pieces of you that he sometimes finds and keeps them close to his heart.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You still bring him a glass of water, freezing cold, just like he likes it, and rest it on the coffee table.

“You can sit, if you want.”

“Right.”

He smiles and sits almost robotically. When he picks up the glass, he softly wipes the ring of water that’s formed underneath with his hand but you don’t see it.

“Let me just grab the box.”

“It’s a whole box?”

“Yeah, I got it at a yard sale.”

“You bought it? You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, now that him and I are officially friends I have to do something to maintain the relationship, seeing how I never actually get to see him.” You sit beside him while he looks through the various issues. There have to be at least fifteen in here.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he really appreciates the comforting hand on his shoulder, “This was very nice of you to do, thank you.”

You smile and nod at him.

“Actually, I also have something I wanted to give you; I just need to get it from the car.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, give me a moment, will you?”

He’s out and back in a second. Practically runs back into your apartment when you open the door; a small gift bag in hand.

“I would have brought in with me, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

His fingers linger when he hands it to you. It’s almost a caress in passing.

“You got me something?”

It’s a digital watch, neatly sat on soft velvet.

Was that the errand he had to run?

“Oh, Hotch, thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have. I know I joked around today, but I would have actually gotten around to getting one. I am not that financially irresponsible.”

“It’s nothing really, it’s not an expensive watch.”

“Oh, okay, as long as it’s the cheap, trashy stuff. Phew.”

He laughs and you realize you’re both standing in your doorway again.

“I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You’re nice to me all the time.”

His brows furrow, “It doesn’t feel like I am.”

“It must come easy then.”

“It does with you.”

He meets your gaze and you stay there for a while.

“Can you help me try it on?”

“Of course.”

He clasps it high on your wrist, just like he’s seen you wear the previous one. The color matches your jewelry and it’s excruciatingly sweet just how much attention he pays to details.

“I just wanted to thank you, I suppose, for the other day. It meant a lot to me.”

Aaron’s hand doesn’t leave your arm, instead wraps gently around it instead, as if one of your bracelets.

“It meant a lot to me too.”

His breathing is heavy, his voice barely a whisper. What you are doing feels like a secret; like it’s meant to be hidden from the rest of the world.

“I’m not sure you mean that in the same way that I do.”

Your other hand comes to rest on top of his, thumb passing softly over protruding veins and scars. He thinks, for a moment, it might wipe them away.

“Then you’re not the people expert that you think you are.”

His laugh is heartbreaking.

“Guess I’m not very good at that either.”

You hum, “You’re okay.”

Neither of you is moving but it feels like you’re getting closer.

“So eloquent again.”

You can’t help but beam with pride at how comfortable he’s getting with your banter. A whole world unlocked and open for you to see. His body is drawn to you, almost folds over and around you to be closer. As close as he can possibly get without touching you more.

“It’s the worst moment possible now, when you’ve just given me a gift and picked me up from my place, but I think it deserves to be said that I would very much like to be kissed by you.”

His eyes flutter close.

“It really is the worst moment possible,” his hand slides slowly from your wrist to elbow, taking in the feeling of bare skin, “but I would very much like to kiss you.”

“But you won’t.”

His hand stops traveling up your arm, drops back onto your wrist and without really meaning to, pulls you closer.

“No.”

You stay like this for a while. Nothing but soft breathing to be heard in the room.

“I should probably go.”

You look up in surprise, “Are you not coming with me?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he touches the inside of your palm and traces the lines as if to remember them, “I wouldn't know what to say or do after this.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s alright, I understand… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The loss of his touch is like a sudden drop in the temperature around you. You both feel it.

He doesn’t meet your gaze again, simply gathers the box and clears his throat as if that will magically return him to what he’s used to being.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You see him press his lips together before he turns to leave.

When you get to Rossi’s, the team is disappointed to know he’s not coming after all, but they’re not surprised. JJ asks you about the new watch and you lie. You can tell Emily is not convinced but she doesn’t say anything about it, merely smiles at you and inches closer with her chair.

Aaron spends another night alone. Jack is at a sleepover with a friend that he didn’t have the heart to pick him up from all of the sudden.

That’s the cost of being a stone, he supposes.

part three

[ellieslittleburrow]

Coming home late..doesn't keep Dean okay. P1

Summery : You've been acting out, lately. Or at least that's what Sam and Dean called it. For you it was just having fun, living. That is until Dean couldn't take it anymore...

Warnings : a bit of a violent behaviour, stern brother

Pairings : Dean winchester x sister reader

A/n : AHA WHATS THAT TITLE. Also i'm sorry if this brings bad memories to any of you guys ❤️ Comments are much appreciated peeps 🌸

-----

"Lookie here"

A voice you have so carelessly gotten used to, tinted with a hint of disappointment and of passive aggressiveness. "Miss wild life has just come back from her adventures."

You sighed as your boots tiredly thump the metallic steps of the bunker and Dean emerged through the metallic columns.

"What?" You threw your arms out. "Am i not allowed to go out now? Should i ask for your permission for everything?" You spat out. Fucker really had to do this as soon as you came back home?

"No!" Dean rose from the chair and dangerously made his way to you. "You could've answered the phone one of the 10 times i called, though!" He sounded enthusiastic for a second. "Or maybe just gotten home on time." And then that enthusiasm shifted to disappointment. And after a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, his voice fatigued. "What are you doing, kid?"

It was a simple 4 worded question. But the answer to it requiered a few shrinks and lots of writing. You didn't know why you were acting this way, really. To you it was no big deal. Why do they want to force everything on you? Get home at this hour, wear this and not that, eat, don't talk to that person, don't haunt this and that...You were just done with all this attention to the little details that meant nothing to you...You just..wanted them to notice you, what you liked, your qualities, the fact that you knew well enough how to haunt. There was also the fact that...handling things on your own was no longer a possibility..The pain, the nightmares, the memories.

"I'm not doing anything, Dean. I just got home like-" You stop to look at your watch. "A fucking hour late. Boohoo, what a big fucking dea-"

"LILY."

You stop! Faltering for a tiny moment before quickly recovering, adrenaline pumping through your body.

"Don't raise your voic-"

You'd spoke but Dean interrupted you, closing the gap between you, sending you staggering backwards. But you still hold your head up high, chest puffed up and ready to fight...cleching your fists as your hands trembled.

"i don't think you understand, lily." Your brother wrapped his hand around your arm, looming over your -what felt like- tiny body. You held your gaze down. Are you still going to fight? Or are you going to apologize and move on?

"It's not because i let you loose that it's actually acceptable for you to behave this way. I understand that you're angry and that you're taking it out on me-"

"that's fucking stupi-"

Fight it is..

"it's not stupid, you're acting out like you're five."

"i swear to god and i promise you, if you ever do this again, lily, you're done. And not done the way you usually are. I promise you that if you do this ever again, i will make sure you never forget that day. "

You scoff and shrug, the perfect cocktail for Dean's eyes to go lower, darker. Angrier. But all that bitterness washed away... and he nodded, slowly.

"Okay then" He let go of your arm and you internally wished he didn't. It felt now like you'd rather he grounds you and yells, because that smile meant that whatever was coming, was going to be much worse.

"Since you're all grown up and ready to take care of yourelf, let me change it up for you."

Much worse indeed..

He stood up straight and you shrunk again. You didn't want this!!! This is not what you had in m-

"We've already got enough problems on our plate, you acting out, with your temper tantrums and your shit-" He shakes his hands. " i'm not having it."

You'd speak up...apologize..But you're too angry and terrified to even think. Let alone talk.

"You do this shit again, you're out. Capiche?"

You opened your mouth to speak but!- you're stunned. And a lump grew heavy in your throat as regret set in....

"And you watch your language, or else i promise you i'll smack your face so bad your jaw will hurt."

Your eyebrows stood up in surprise..Never has Dean EVER been this violent. And by the looks of it, he meant it. He meant all of it. Every single word. And you...you-

You burst into tears, choking as saliva pooled in your mouth. You've never felt such things and-and you don't get why he'd eve-

"I asked you a question, lily." He thundered but you were in no state that would get you to stop crying, anytime soon. Only an unintentional whimper escaped your lips. "Lily, i asked you a question." He demanded again, groaning higher.

You nod, hoping it would get him off you but...that only infuriorates him more. "ANSWER ME."

his tone turned more violent, piercing your ears and you nodded again. "Yeah. Yes-I I understand." Your lips trembling as your upper body leaned away from him.

Just then does he let go of your arm. "'Out of my face now, kid."

Without hesitation, you stepped aside, heading for your room.

You placed the back of your hand on your mouth, covering it before another wave of tears comes in.

You might've fucked up, badly this time, as Dean has never been this mean to you. And it just felt like....John and Sam all over again.

You had to do something about it. But it could wait. Until Sam came back.

--------

PART2

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Ola, yall! I love writing angst 😭😭😭 What do we think???? ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[tenjikyu]

Okay! With your earlier reply in mind, here is my second request *slides it across the nonexistent table*

I've been having major Mitsuya brain rot so obviously this request will be about him :>

Picture this: Final timeline adult Mitsuya doing all his fashion designing stuff x house spouse (gn version of housewife/househusband).

Genre can be fluff, maybe a bit suggestive if that's okay with you, I don't mind either way, I am just dying for some Mitsuya works cuz I swear I've read most of the gn and male reader x him fics out there and I am starving for new content with him

Hopefully this was coherent and had at least something you could work with (if you need anything more specific, I can send another request)

— 🎭

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘍𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ mitsuya x GN!housespouce!reader , pure fluff n slightly suggestive but it’s nothing more then kissing, I 💗 mitsuya omg, still haven’t rewatched Tokyo rev I’ve been slack 🙁, short n sweet but I was struggling to finish it and I didn’t wanna keep the people waiting much longer so I do apologise.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ I’m so sorry for how long this took!! I desperately wanted to get this out before it hit the 1 month mark but I’ve been super duper busy with personal shit! Hope it’s still good enough lmao.

Takashi ironed the fabric with the upmost care, fondling the silk around the board with a low heat level on. The design itself was a dress resembling a lotus flower. The top was beaded with pale pink rhinestones and the bottom consisted with an array of green silks and gems. It had a sharp yet form fitting feel and anyone could tell the designer put the upmost love into the piece.

A gentle knock came from the other side of his work studio, and there was only one person it could be.

“Here darling, I made you some miso soup to have. Light enough it’ll keep you full but still good for dinner”, your voice charms his ears. Ever since moving in with him, you’ve taken on the role of housespouce. You clean and cook for him, in order to provide the best possible space for Takashi to work in.

It had been twelve years since the two of you got together in middle school. You were the schools vice president, and he was a gang member. Despite the opposite worlds, you hung out frequently and even babysat his sisters when he was unavailable. The day Takashi knew he wanted to some day marry you was the day he came home to his two younger sisters resting in your lap, washed dishes and comfortably lying on the futon.

Now, the two of you reside in an upper class place with lots of room for Takashi’s designs, and none of them are anything short of ethereal. Behind every design he creates, inspiration of you seeps through the thread and needle. Your favourite flower, animal, colour and styles all influence Takashi’s dresses and all of them are of the highest quality.

So, whenever you come into the studio, Takashi gives you a big grin and awaits a hug from his favourite partner.

“How’s your day, darling?” He asks you, and you smile gently at him.

“I’ve missed you, I can’t deny. It seems you’ve been locked in here forever”.

“I apologise my dear”.

“I know another way you can’t make it up to me..” you grin at him, and his cheeks flush with a pink hue.

Kissing his Adam’s apple gently, you guide him up and out of the studio, into your bedroom. Lying his cherished body onto the bed, you feel up his torso as you continue to litter him with small hickies.

He soon follows your lead, pressing a loving kiss to your cultivating lips. You swear there’s nothing closer to heaven than this man’s touch, and you’re convinced you’ve ascended as he grips your cheeks to deepen your kiss.

“I’ve missed you too, darling”, Takashi presses another kiss to your collarbone and manoeuvres his hands around your waist, and you sigh gently at his grip.

“I promise you I’ll give you what you want, after we eat dinner “, you giggle, and his pout is nothing short of cute.

“So you lead me to bed and suddenly leave me high and dry? I’m hurt baby”, he chuckles out, pressing one last kiss to the wedding ring on your finger.

“After dinner, I’ll give you all the desert you desire my love”.

[oneslimybastard]

Another underutilized aspect of N, Natural Harmonia Gropius himself, is that he's conceptualized as not just a Math Guy, but a Math Genius if we go by some interview trivia notated on Bulbapedia.

It clearly shows in the way he speaks since his (translated) dialogue (idk about the original japanese one) is full of hamfisted references to formulas and frustration expressed when the chaos of the world does not align with them — which to me is like, the core of his character, something that makes him both An Asshole to deal with but also a very intellectually curios and creative individual. It's just a brand of creativity not a lot of people can keep up with nor understand.

N likes math because a lot of math is about clearly defined variables and their relationship to one another. If you come across an inconsistency that doesn't fit any prior definitions, you iron out a new definition and suddenly the field has expanded upon itself tenfold. It aligns with how his Very Autistic Brain functions, x + y = z, if I do x to y then z will happen. If z doesn't happen, then that just means I have to identify the hidden variables within the exchange and rewrite the formula to be more accurate.

Black and White's quality of writing is. Like pokémon often is. Questionable at best. The foundations are there but the execution is dumbed down and corny because it's still aimed at kids, BW in specific really cutting the theme of pokémon trainer ethics short in favor of just "dang u beat me in the pogiebattle guess ur right!". How-ev-er. In my head, and the reason why I still find the plot of those games compelling (aside for my unhinged thirst for goth man-milf Ghetsis) is that to me they're about local cult-raised autist Normal Henry Gropus bashing his head against the world over and over to desperately try and make the formulas make sense, to distill it into variables he can understand and predict on a consistent basis, and failing miserably at it. Because even if the world is Technically made up of a bunch of chemistry that you could, in theory, predict, there's just a lot of random noise in there from microscopic complexities that fuck everything up.

Pokémon are simpler creatures (discounting the eerily intelligent ones) who will be nice enough to behave like math problems most of the time. Humans rarely extend that grace, the more N studies them like a science project the more contradictory variables pop up. They have a million thoughts in their head he doesn't have access to, that brew into feelings he doesn't understand, which leads to actions he can't do a proper traceback through. Which is frustrating, devastatingly frustrating. At least at first.

Due to how BW2 pans out and my own yearning for thematic mirroring, whereas Ghetsis gives in to the Autistic Bitterness over all these NTs he doesn't fuckign understand, I like to think N develops a sort of joy in studying people like the impossibly complex math problems we are. Because he likes math, he likes figuring shit out, he likes buying a nightmare rubik's cube and charting the squares out on a nightmare variable graph (listen i am not a math guy. i respect the hustle but my skill level is too low to accurately attempt to simulate the process in writing. im sorry math guys) so he has a home-made flexible cheat code on how to solve any possible mix-up of it. It's fun for him, it stimulates his brain and he is so stupid good at it that he can only share that joy with like a stray alakazam or metagross because he's a bit of a tarzan just hanging out in the wilderness, he doesn't know any high end mathematicians he can casually geek out about combinatorial game theory with, and the normies just do not get it .

I think this math enjoying is kind of a big part of his ~Innocence~ as well, since there's a lot of childlike glee to being a Math Guy. It's the love of problem solving as a process rather than a means to an end, it's playful, but severely misunderstood to the point where people kinda might assume things about you if you are a math guy.

N's love of math helps him love the world but it also isolates him. He's a genius, but since he can't communicate it in a palatable way it'll get overlooked in favor of him just being a loomy weirdo on the street chatting up the local patrats.

If introduced to DnD though he'd spend so much time on forging ridiculously optimized multiclass builds, then migrate to digging through old obscure sci-fi ttrpgs from the 80s with hellishly complex systems just for the funsies of learning how the presented variables behave within a variety of frameworks, but then if you actually invited him to play with your group he'd look at you like you'd just called his mom a llama.

He's a neat guy to me, STEM guy who's also one of those animal rights activists who's a little too PETA-coded, I like him :)

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 14

you’re still speaking in the present tense.

you barely know us.

i’m your best friend? you’ve known me for like four weeks.  

i was seeing someone and i fucked it up. i fucked it up because i’m fucked up.

you’re a fucking creep, i’m a fucking catch.

i’m charming as shit.

all i want is for people to like me, but i just keep hurting people instead.

that’s just what we do. we look out for each other.

my nightmares don’t usually serve breakfast.

you’re pretty much a pain in my ass. and most days, you suck.

delusions make me happy.

we can’t play defense forever.

i think i like you better than anyone i know.

nothing that i’ve been through is possible. i feel like my mind is breaking.

i know it’s dangerous here.

i’m sorry, are you invested in the happiness of someone else?

things change. here, it’s usually bad.

i hesitate to tell you this, because you’re pathologically overconfident, but you’re cute.

you’re a good person with all your bad qualities.

hope is what makes you willing to suffer.

i want to feel that full-blown compliment.

buddy, fuck off, okay?

fuck you, you really hurt my feelings, and i hope an air conditioner falls on you.

my heart’s belonged to you since the moment i met you.

when the fuck are we not at risk?

hot. you’re hot.

i don’t want to be like this. it’s terrifying.

you’re not fucked up. you’re like the most together person i know. 

all i am is a dumb motherfucker who keeps getting people killed.

my mom adores you.

great, you’re yelling at me again.

i think the only way you can be happy is if you’re yourself.

is it just physically impossible for you not to be an asshole for longer than 10 minutes?

i like you a lot better when you’re not yelling at me.

it’s real, and i’m fucking terrified.

i have done things i can’t undo.

i just feel like all i’ve been doing lately is hurting people.

you do not just get to come in here, dump a load of shit like that, and then walk away.

i don’t want to let this place decide when we get to be happy.

i promise i won’t cry on you if you sit next to me.

you are my home, and i would really like to be yours.

you look how i feel.

i don’t give a shit about your word.

i know their type. everything’s a personal attack, a goddamn battle.

you know it’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, including your friends.

she looked good. i mean, hateful. but good.

it’s poor form to blame the dead.

i’m bothered by people who don’t know how good they have it.

you’re trapped with me. in a fun way.

this place is haunted. everywhere i look, i see somewhere you lied to me.

i don’t feel better off. i just feel left.

i made my choices. so did you.

broken people don’t survive here.

i am exiting our one-sided relationship.

one failed marriage, who hasn’t been there?

i just need to know you’ve got your shit together.

i don’t need a pep talk. i just need to know that you’re back.

mostly everybody here’s depressed.

rule number one: never trust the love interest.

now i know how to take care of my problems.

i can’t uproot my life just to make you happy.

i was never rooting for you to be unhappy. i just wanted you to have more.

stop saying that everything’s going to be okay.

you are not some hopeless screw up.

no one listens to me. no one.

i’m not a problem for you. i’ve never been a problem for you.

there are no mistakes. just choices. and you chose what was right for you.

if someone came up to you right now and said, ‘do this one bad thing and everyone gets to go home,’ would you do it?

i don’t want to know the answer.

when we’re together, i feel a lot. and mostly, it’s good.

we don’t have time to be delicate.

actually, you might be the best thing in my life.

i don’t know what to do, and that really freaks me out.

i’m not gonna stand here and pretend it was a good day.

there are always gonna be monsters in the world. it doesn’t matter where you are. but i promised myself i would never let them scare the life out of me.

i don’t give a shit what you are.

i’m doing this for you. i’m doing it for all of us.

if this shit goes sideways, you have to be ready to step up.

i need you to do me a favor. cut yourself some slack.

you trust me to decide the rest of your life?

you have a sense of direction. 

when did life become this big monster we have to just constantly feed?

we don’t have to live like the sky is always falling.

i’m not afraid of the dark.

you think i’m a monster?

what’s happening to us?

what part of this is okay?

that was death, and it’s coming… right now.

[empty-movement]

May I ask what scanners / equipment / software you're using in the utena art book project? I'm an artist and half the reason I rarely do traditional art is because I'm never happy with the artwork after it's scanned in. But the level of detail even in the blacks of Utena's uniform were all captured so beautifully! And even the very light colors are showing up so well! I'd love to know how you manage!

You know what's really fun? This used to be something you put in your site information section, the software and tools used! Not something that's as normal anymore, but let's give it a go, sorry it's long because I don't know what's new information and what's not! Herein: VANNA'S 'THIS IS AS SPECIFIC AS MY BREAK IS LONG' GUIDE/AIMLESS UNEDITED RAMBLE ABOUT SCANNING IMAGES

Scanning: Modern scanners, by and large, are shit for this. The audience for scanning has narrowed to business and work from home applications that favor text OCR, speed, and efficiency over archiving and scanning of photos and other such visual media. It makes sense--there was a time when scanning your family photographs and such was a popular expected use of a scanner, but these days, the presumption is anything like that is already digital--what would you need the scanner to do that for? The scanner I used for this project is the same one I have been using for *checks notes* a decade now. I use an Epson Perfection V500. Because it is explicitly intended to be a photo scanner, it does threebthings that at this point, you will pay a niche user premium for in a scanner: extremely high DPI (dots per inch), extremely wide color range, and true lossless raws (BMP/TIFF.) I scan low quality print media at 600dpi, high quality print media at 1200 dpi, and this artbook I scanned at 2400 dpi. This is obscene and results in files that are entire GB in size, but for my purposes and my approach, the largest, clearest, rawest copy of whatever I'm scanning is my goal. I don't rely on the scanner to do any post-processing. (At these sizes, the post-processing capacity of the scanner is rendered moot, anyway.) I will replace this scanner when it breaks by buying another identical one if I can find it. I have dropped, disassembled to clean, and abused this thing for a decade and I can't believe it still tolerates my shit. The trade off? Only a couple of my computers will run the ancient capture software right. LMAO. I spent a good week investigating scanners because of the insane Newtype project on my backburner, and the quality available to me now in a scanner is so depleted without spending over a thousand on one, that I'd probably just spin up a computer with Windows 7 on it just to use this one. That's how much of a difference the decade has made in what scanners do and why. (Enshittification attacks! Yes, there are multiple consumer computer products that have actually declined in quality over the last decade.)

Post-processing: Photoshop. Sorry. I have been using Photoshop for literally decades now, it's the demon I know. While CSP is absolutely probably the better piece of software for most uses (art,) Photoshop is...well it's in the name. In all likelihood though, CSP can do all these things, and is a better product to give money to. I just don't know how. NOTENOTENOTE: Anywhere I discuss descreening and print moire I am specifically talking about how to clean up *printed media.* If you are scanning your own painting, this will not be a problem, but everything else about this advice will stand! The first thing you do with a 2400 dpi scan of Utena and Anthy hugging? Well, you open it in Photoshop, which you may or may not have paid for. Then you use a third party developer's plug-in to Descreen the image. I use Sattva. Now this may or may not be what you want in archiving!!! If fidelity to the original scan is the point, you may pass on this part--you are trying to preserve the print screen, moire, half-tones, and other ways print media tricks the eye. If you're me, this tool helps translate the raw scan of the printed dots on the page into the smooth color image you see in person. From there, the vast majority of your efforts will boil down to the following Photoshop tools: Levels/Curves, Color Balance, and Selective Color. Dust and Scratches, Median, Blur, and Remove Noise will also be close friends of the printed page to digital format archiver. Once you're happy with the broad strokes, you can start cropping and sizing it down to something reasonable. If you are dealing with lots of images with the same needs, like when I've scanned doujinshi pages, you can often streamline a lot of this using Photoshop Actions.

My blacks and whites are coming out so vivid this time because I do all color post-processing in Photoshop after the fact, after a descreen tool has been used to translate the dot matrix colors to solids they're intended to portray--in my experience trying to color correct for dark and light colors is a hot mess until that process is done, because Photoshop sees the full range of the dots on the image and the colors they comprise, instead of actually blending them into their intended shades. I don't correct the levels until I've descreened to some extent.

As you can see, the print pattern contains the information of the original painting, but if you try to correct the blacks and whites, you'll get a janky mess. *Then* you change the Levels:

If you've ever edited audio, then dealing with photo Levels and Curves will be familiar to you! A well cut and cleaned piece of audio will not cut off the highs and lows, but also will make sure it uses the full range available to it. Modern scanners are trying to do this all for you, so they blow out the colors and increase the brightness and contrast significantly, because solid blacks and solid whites are often the entire thing you're aiming for--document scanning, basically. This is like when audio is made so loud details at the high and low get cut off. Boo.

What I get instead is as much detail as possible, but also at a volume that needs correcting:

Cutting off the unused color ranges (in this case it's all dark), you get the best chance of capturing the original black and white range:

In some cases, I edit beyond this--for doujinshi scans, I aim for solid blacks and whites, because I need the file sizes to be normal and can't spend gigs of space on dust. For accuracy though, this is where I'd generally stop.

For scanning artwork, the major factor here that may be fucking up your game? Yep. The scanner. Modern scanners are like cheap microphones that blow out the audio, when what you want is the ancient microphone that captures your cat farting in the next room over. While you can compensate A LOT in Photoshop and bring out blacks and whites that scanners fuck up, at the end of the day, what's probably stopping you up is that you want to use your scanner for something scanners are no longer designed to do well. If you aren't crazy like me and likely to get a vintage scanner for this purpose, keep in mind that what you are looking for is specifically *a photo scanner.* These are the ones designed to capture the most range, and at the highest DPI. It will be a flatbed. Don't waste your time with anything else.

Hot tip: if you aren't scanning often, look into your local library or photo processing store. They will have access to modern scanners that specialize in the same priorities I've listed here, and many will scan to your specifications (high dpi, lossless.)

Ahem. I hope that helps, and or was interesting to someone!!!

[bonniethecreator]

hi ml u will never guess who this is . Anyway ummm wuld u be willing to write dylan lenivy x autistic reader who’s touch starved … reader struggles expressing when they want to be held and stuff idk I am projecting i love that man so bad .

i wonder who this is ...

sir yes sir ! i hope i do him so much justice because I don't want you to hate me for portraying him wrong, lets go! (idk whby the photo quality is shit)

the pov also might be all over the place so I'm so sorry

Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp was full of excited chatter as the kids made sure their last day of camp was well-spent. Camp had been a whirlwind full of laughter, stories by the campfire (most of which Mr. H would detest), and fun all around, but unfortunately it had to end. The kids did as much as they could before they inevitably had to come to terms with the setting sun, packing their bags and having their last meal before the trip home.

Every counsellor made their way to sit by the campfire while waiting for the campers to come out of their cabins. Dylan picks his spot on the log next to Y/n, giving each other a small smile before they start chatting with the others. Loud chatter echoed through the air all night, quick glances being thrown Y/n's way as they chatted to a group of campers.

After the kids had devoured all the s'mores, and the campfire had burned low, the kids had been sent back to their cabins to sleep, and Dylan and Y/n had found themselves sat by the lake."It's crazy that summer's already over", Dylan sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks over to Y/n. "Yeah it kind of sucks, I like it here." They reply, throwing Dylan a smile, handing him a rock.

Dylan throws them a puzzled look, taking the rock from their hand. Y/n lets out a small chuckle before standing up and throwing the rock into the lake, watching as it skips a couple of times before sinking into the water. Dylan follows their movements, chucking the rock into the water, though it just dives in with a sad 'plop'. He turns around to Y/n's laughing figure, "Okay, you don't need to laugh. We aren't all blessed with rock skipping skills." Dylan's voice is laced with sass as he smiles at Y/n, watching them as he makes sure to memorise this moment to cherish.

"Okay here, I'll help you out" Y/n places another rock in Dylan's hand, positioning him from behind and hesitantly placing their hand on top of his. They look up at him for any sign of discomfort, their eyes scanned over his face, until he looked back and they quickly snapped back to face the lake.

Dylan smiles to himself as he focuses back on their hands together, Y/n softly moving his hand to show him the correct way to throw the rock, though it isn't about that anymore for either of them. Y/n breathing wavers as they try to calm themself, as Dylan hoped Y/n couldn't feel his heart beating from the back of his ribs. "You should probably take me out to dinner first" Dylan flirted, looking back at Y/n with a stupid smirk on his face. Y/n nervously laughed in response as they flung the rock from Dylan's hand into the water, watching it skips before dropping.

Y/n quickly removes their hand from his, trembling as they attempt to head back to the counsellors cabin, before Dylan reaches out "Hey. You don't.. uh, do you want to stay a bit longer?" He fumbled his words, interlocking his fingers with Y/n's. "Uh.. yeah." Y/n smiles softly, looking at Dylan through their eyelashes as they tighten their grip on his hand, moving closer to him.

They sit back at the foot of the pier, their hands never separating, Y/n's head sits on Dylan's shoulder as they talk for as long as they can before fatigue hits them both. When they both agreed to call it a night, Dylan stood up. "Would you want to sleep in my bed?" he wiggled his eyebrows at Y/n teasingly, offering his hand to help them up then leading then back to the cabin.

After getting comfortable in his bed, Dylan patted the spot next to him, though undoubtedly small, Y/n lay down next to him. Dylan let them get comfortable before he wrapped his arms around them, placing a small kiss on the side of their head before they lay together in silence. Y/n let the comfort of Dylan's touch and presence lull them to sleep, they really made the most of the last night of summer camp.

[artstatues]

New year, new man...? - g.h × reader.

wc : 898

pairings : grayson hawthorne x gigi grayson's bsf!reader, from the inheritance games.

synopsis : the aftermath of you and grayson's little new years kiss.

warnings : like, light swearing, grayson, reader ( unfortunately i hate reader rn )

a/n : writers block ish plus i took forever and i js dk iuhwkejf but tysm on the love for the last part that someone asked for a part 2 ( !! ) ps: i despise this and i mighr not do ur reqs for another while bc it might be low quality and yall deserve notbing but the best

taglist : @lxvebelle, @urbanflorals, @reyna-obsessed, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels, @kozumesphone, @shuhuaspookie, @off-to-the-r4ces.

The car ride home was actually fine. You expected Gigi’s screams as your night time music but it didn’t arrive. She immediately passed out in the backseat, her head in your lap, but you knew, if she remembered this in the morning, you were going to be absolutely fucking cooked. 

Right when the car stopped, you slowly lifted Gigi’s head off your lap before Grayson quickly came out of the car and opened the door for you. “I- Thank you Gray.” You were slightly stunned by the gesture, but appreciated it anyway. “Do I have your number?” He finally spoke up. You stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was asking for it or genuinely asking himself, but your right mind snapped your senses back. “Oh, sorry. No I don’t think you do. Do you want me to type it in?” You offered, hand out, as if you were expecting something to be placed in your hands, and you were. Grayson quickly slid his phone out of his pocket and handed it over to you. You quickly typed in your number and opened your phone to re-check. “Alright, there.” You smiled, passing the device back to its owner. “Thank you.” He gave a warm genuine smile. You took the chance to get on your tiptoes and give him a small kiss before winking and heading towards your apartment building.

You woke up to the sound of a song playing. Your ringtone. You quickly, yet groggily picked it up, and dear God was that the worst mistake in your life. “Did you kiss my brother?! Was anything I saw last night true?!” Gigi screeched on the other side of the phone. You quite literally flinched at the volume she was speaking at, and how damn close you decided to put your phone to your ear. You were going to take the opportunity to lie. “Fuck, yes, I did. I’m sorry.” You groaned, not awake enough to be handling this shit right now. “Are you in love with my brother?” Gigi questioned further, she didn’t exactly seem mad, rather– surprised, you could say. “What? No-! Maybe– I don’t know yet. You can’t trust me yet, I’ve only woken up so,” You denied, but were you telling the truth? Absolutely fucking not. With your explanation, you hung up the phone to find a text from an unknown number from earlier in the morning. 

Unknown Number

It’s Gray. I think Gigi might call you soon. She called me earlier. Just a heads up: She’s going to be screeching I tell you. - 7.24 am

You couldn’t help but smile at the first text. It was sweet, yet funny, yet absolutely right. Your ears were still recovering from the screaming. Just then, a new message came in.

Unknown Number

It’s Gray. I think Gigi might call you soon. She called me earlier. Just a heads up: She’s going to be screeching I tell you. - 7.24 am

Also, may I take you out for lunch? - 8.57 am

A smile crept up on your face, slowly heating up. You were quick to type an obvious answer, but hesitant to send. God knows what Gigi’s going to do to your ears, but it couldn’t matter less right now.

Gray

It’s Gray. I think Gigi might call you soon. She called me earlier. Just a heads up: She’s going to be screeching I tell you. - Gray, 7.24 am

Also, may I take you out for lunch? - Gray, 8.57 am

sure, where to? - You, 8.59 am

A reply came in almost immediately.

Gray

It’s Gray. I think Gigi might call you soon. She called me earlier. Just a heads up: She’s going to be screeching I tell you. - Gray, 7.24 am

Also, may I take you out a bit later? - Gray, 8.57 am

sure, where to? - You, 8.59 am

Coffee, perhaps? - Gray, 9.00 am.

alright, 11 o’clock? - You, 9.00 am. 

👍🏻 - Gray, 9.01 am

You pushed the door of the cafe open to find Grayson sitting at the corner table, a coffee in his hand and one on the table. “Hi,” You smiled as you approached the table. “Hey.” He greeted, sliding to coffee towards you while you took a seat opposite of him. “I’m not very sure of your preferred coffee but I’ve heard you talk about enjoying lattes Gigi, so that’s what I got for you.” He explained. Your face turned red. You couldn’t even remember talking about coffee with Gigi, let alone him. “Okay, so how are we going to deal with the situation- this.” You gestured between yourself and him. “Uhm. I think I’ve got a suggestion. Fuck.” You heard him swear beneath his breath for a second, and you hadn’t noticed the fact that he wasn’t wearing a suit. He was wearing a dark turtleneck with a coat instead, which brought a smile to your face, for some unknown reason. He cleared his throat before saying, “Would you like to be my– girlfriend?” He paused before finally saying the last word. You couldn’t not gasp. “I- Yes– Of course-!” You stammered, having no idea on what to say. One thing you absolutely forgot was: this is where your best friend gets her afternoon coffee. 

The doors opened with a bell, and a small scream came out of a very familiar person’s mouth.

[notmorbid]

dead like me, season 1.

dialogue prompts from season one of bryan fuller's dead like me.

i excel at not giving a shit.

a sunny disposition goes a long way in any line of work.

if it's my lunch hour, why is it only 35 minutes?

i know what might cheer you up.

everyone always says the same shit at funerals.

why do you have to be such an asshole?

they're not invisible. you just can't see them.

leave the plastic. cash is king.

isn't stealing from dead people kind of tacky?

i'm sorry, i tuned you out. were you whining?

as childhood traumas go, nothing beats the realization that everything dies. including you.

unhappy people do unhappy things.

you need to leave now. you're making me tired.

souls go bad in all kinds of ways.

all you can ever hope to do is make it easier. that may not seem like a lot, but it is.

i think for me, death was just a wakeup call.

you know what your problem is? you wake up every morning wondering what the world's gonna do for you.

i'm going to say this as politely as possible: i will fuck you up.

i am really trying to respect you. i am. but it's really hard sometimes.

carving my own path seems like way too much work.

just so you know, i'm very prone to anxiety attacks.

most of the time i'm talking out of my ass. i don't know shit.

just smell some fucking roses already.

you know, you can talk to me about stuff. if you want to.

monotony is the mind killer.

what you do now matters. what you don't do matters.

what is an average heart, anyway?

the password's 'rimjob', if you want to get on.

i wish people were more complicated, but they're not.

i don't want my picture taken.

it's very tempting to think the little jewels from our lives will bring it all back. but they won't.

i was dreaming about frogs.

i'm pretty sure they put mind control drugs in the water cooler.

you can't come up with a more original way to act out?

intuitive thinkers are the worst.

people lie all the time. it's not a bad thing.

if a lie is big enough, there's an instinctive need to protect it. it's almost maternal.

i need somebody to give me lessons on how to communicate with you, because i'm at a loss.

i need to be unconscious.

have you ever kept a scrapbook?

the lengths i go to for free food.

you've got a worldly quality. a certain je nai se quoi.

falling's easy, you just fall. jumping requires strength of will.

my face gets sore if i smile too much.

do you have to be such an asshole?

there's a finite number of personalities in the world, and i have met them all.

no wonder your children don't come and visit you.

jesus christ, fella, cut the cord.

you always seem to go a different way than everyone else.

open door's an invitation. gotta jump while the door's open.

why do i keep losing all the things and people that i care about?

when you can't make sense of someone leaving, you try to make sense of what they left behind.

i just don't get our culture's obsession with moving on. what are we afraid of, remembering? being sad?

you want to steal something, don't you?

you want to be a bowling pin your whole life, or would you rather be the ball?

i'm sorry, i'm trying to flirt with you. it's not really my thing.

why are you stalking me?

i could burn you a really great cd, if you want.

your perversions are coming into disturbing focus.

not in that life, not in this one, not ever.

you get close enough to see the pain, and it's no longer funny.

i really liked kissing you.

we all create, in our heads, who we are. who we want others to be.

what fresh hell is this?

just because you're dead doesn't mean you have to give up.

i'm not good at the pet thing.

i don't exactly know where home is, these days.

if you don't know the difference between flipping and flopping, we're knee-deep in water without a paddle.

i'm concerned you don't know what you're asking for.

i think some people wander because that's who they are.

you are a very internal little creature.

is it wrong to decide someone's a great person because they're so much like you?

you want to get coffee? i think that's what you're supposed to say when somebody's having a fucked-up day.

you do know the story, right?

you didn't do anything wrong. i'm just screwed up.

i didn't know that was all the time we'd have.

a girl's got needs, you know. even a dead girl.

i'm sure there's going to be some karmic reward for you down the line.

how's the whole 'dead' thing working out for you?

everybody grieves in a different way.

i could've, should've. didn't.

when you're mourning yourself, closure is a little tricky.

the one death you never get over is your own.

you can go fuck a duck.

i think i'm going to miss you the most.

do you want to do some acid?

i feel that my current reality is altered enough.

traveling alone has a certain magic.

what, did you all get together to vote me off the island?

the world is a very big place, and you are not the center of it.

let's just pretend everything is back to normal.

if you stand too close to a painting, all you see are patches of color. stand too far back, and you're missing all the detail.

haunting is all about envy.

i've always wanted to knock over a liquor store.

people mostly just want to hear themselves talk.

i work better alone.

i love the books that people leave here.

if a tree falls in the forest, who gives a fuck?

you can't smoke in here.

you have no respect for authority, you know that?

this job is really getting in the way of the business of living.

you only have one shot at life. this isn't a dress rehearsal.

i'm sorry i wasn't sweeter.

i'm sorry i didn't show you as much affection as i felt for you. i did love you.

i keep forgetting how young you were.

i love cemeteries. the quiet. the stories on headstones.

[itsmeeleanorstill]

IM GONNA GO CRAZY THE EVAN HCS WERE SO CUTE TYSM IF YOU DO ANOTHER PART I WILL BE RABID

Authors note: lucky for you sweetheart i am acually crazy and i have no life so yall are getting another part of

Evan Myers romantic headcannons

And just them begin happy because he deserves to be happy also this is gn reader agin and this one is kinda short because am out of ideas

Hes a drama queen sorry not so sorry i dont make the rules (expect i acually do)

After work or school you come home and you two just sitting at the dinner table talking about all the gossip is one of the things you two love doing the most

Always starts off with 'you know i really dont wanna say this but like....' before talking shit about a person you both dislike

Would never admit that he gossips tho (everyone knows he does)

Also words of affirmation is big on him so just tell him that you love him and hes doing a good job and everything will be good

Hes just so so much in love with you and its so cute

Lord have mercy because he is strong if you are in his way and you wont move he will just pick you up and move you out of his way

But dont get me wrong you two sit in comfortable silence very offen and he loves it its still quality time even if its just you two begin in the same

Definitelly talks about his nerdy interest like when i mean talks for such a long time but you love it because you are dating him but hes also a very good lisener especially when he knows you are very interested in the topic

when me comes home he usually just tells you all about his day with so much deteals but at the same time none at all

100% healthy and good relasonship