#sorry for hijacking this reblog but I felt it was fitting to go on my tangents here

[refried-ghost]

I'm glad you like it! Very much enjoyed the description of your reaction! I was really pushing for poster vibes by the end of it. Getting a little inspiration vortex going would be fun.

Like with how much I talked it up, it has no right to actually live up to the praise I've given it, but it still does :) Don't know how I managed that.

That is Nyx's PAK. I didn't know what sorta damage it got so I just went like she's basically a symabolic ghost in this anyway so it should be fine to just like give it cracks and a few stray wires.

Intially the plan was to have her and Miyuki fade into the background a bit more with their glowing eyes/PAKs being the main thing to draw attention to them. With maybe legacy repeating behind the Tallest in irken a bunch. Then I wanted to add Red and Purple mostly for self indulgent reasons. Then I saw the post about Zim being responsible for Callie's death and her love for the earth and I was like this goes in too.

That was ABSOLUTELY the feeling I was going for with Zim! I'm glad it conveyed so well. Actually you pointed out all the feelings I was really going for so I must of done something right.

Miyuki's pose made thing just feel really loopsided for a while and there was nothing really infront of her, like how Zim and Nyx were infront of the Tallest. Which was definitely symbolic at that point. So couldn't just like flip them or anything to see if that would help. I struggled there for a bit.

Then I really struggled with Lard Nar. I couldn't figure out how to pose him or anything. He had a chair for a bit. But it just didn't fit and the perpective was off and I just started on the line art and colors of Callie and Laska to not deal with him.

But I was like if I'm adding Lard Nar and Zim has a planet... Why not add Vort? Red's just waving anyway and I don't even need to redraw his hand to just make it look like he's holding a planet. So I probed you and Verm about your thoughts on the planet and smashed them together with mine. Boom! Rough sketch for it.

If both Lard Nar (the designer) and Miyuki (the comissioner) are in this then the Massive is a MUST. (I shrunk it later cause I was trying to unloopsidify the drawing. This was a constant and continuing struggle throughout.)

Thyme's bow. I have a character with a ribbon as a tie and one in her hair. I have drawn her more then anything else and that is why this bow was pretty easy for me.

Laska was super easy. Easiest aside from Zim right up until I had to shade her face. Then I could not for the life of me figure it out. There was a point where I had Callie and Thyme fully lined, colored, and shaded (and had figured out what to do with Lard Nar) where her face shadows were in a totally different style cause I just couldn't.

Doing the line art in Vectors honestly was the best decision I made for all of this. Though it did make me realize that while I hadn't really used Vectors in clip before for I kept expecting to morph lines like I did in sai and was very confused for a while.

I have drawn the Tallest a few hundred times at this point. Mostly stopped myself from finishing them out right first as a reward for myself(I love them). Look at that little bitchy hand Red's got on his chest. Cocky fucker.

Moving along.

First time I actually really tried drawing Miyuki. Her head and colors was a bit of a pain, but she came out great. Just a lotta line work and I was too distracted by everything else to get her done for a while.

My favorite part with her is that arm she's snaking around her back to grab at Callie.

The Massive took like three(?) days. Don't normally draw props or ships it was pretty fun though. Couldn't find a ref for a full side view so I used three angles I found on google. This is only notiable cause I really really struggle getting myself to use references. I think that's been getting a bit better since I started drawing fanart, but still.

Now Vort. Very fun to do. Very much a struggle. I experimented like crazy with this planet and it's moons. And honestly I don't even know how I got the moons like that. They were green and blue. Then they were orange and purple. Then some how I got a really cool texture on the minty one after messing with posterization and I couldn't replicate it on the others. Vort still looked off.

Those three days I was working on the Massive I was still working on other parts of the drawing to just keep up progress. When I worked on Vort. I only worked on Vort. (And Zim a tiny bit cause Earth was on the same layer and I moved it and the moon so he lost his fingers at one point.) Took two(?) days.

This is around the time saving started taking a while and I was sure it I even touched clip while it was saving it would crash. And while it didn't respond a few times I didn't have to find out if that was true.

Eventually I just I think Wave Distorted it and upped the tolerence on my selection tool to block out some of the more blended colors that were bugging me. Skipping over a lot of fuckery here but yeah. It turned out well.

Used a bit of what I learned from Vort on Earth, straight up stole and rotated one of it's moons and add atmospheres to things.

Background took a bit too. I knew what I wanted out of it and didn't know how to get there. There was a lot of trial and error. So so many layers. But it turned out better then expected.

This was honestly a lot more process stuff then anything else, but still. I wanted to write it out. It was a lot of fun and I really pushed skills. Plus like I stayed focused on something for over a week with out dropping and forgetting about it. So this is kinda a huge win for me. Makes me much more confident about drawing comics in the future.

Oh, and character interaction! Another breakthrough with this piece (possible the few before it too) I've never really been able to draw characters physically interacting or like reacting to each other before. Don't know why it. I just never could seem to get over that hurdle before so this is pretty major. Not only having so many character in it, but conveying what I want them to and not looking super stiff! Fantastic!

It is done! Here we got @spacegoathours Mina's ocs; Callie, Nyx, Thyme, and Laska with Lard Nar, Zim and three of the Tallest. Vort, Earth and the Massive. (I hope you like it!)

I went hard with this.

I was gonna draw 777 all week and instead I had a NEED to get this out. And it came out amazing! So thrilled! Very proud!

Imma come back and add more text later. Sleep is needed now.

[nihilnovisubsole]

Hey man, do you have any advice for describing body movement? I remember your Crowley and Agent 47 (using them as examples that stand out) both had very expressive and true-to-character body language, and I've honestly been killing myself for the past 2 weeks trying to figure out your style, but I either focus on the wrong body parts or choose wrong words - what do you consider to be focal points in mannerisms.. or maybe words/phrases to think about when describing a character's body language?

sorry to hijack your question, anon, but a quick order of business: i’ve noticed something about how i’ve been receiving asks lately. i only tend to get them directly after i post/reblog stuff, like people aren’t sure whether i’m around or don’t want to bother me [which some of them have said outright]. don’t worry about it! trust me, i lurk on tumblr all day. i’ll see it. i’m grateful for the distraction. just because i don’t hate writing doesn’t mean i don’t love to procrastinate.

anyway, body language. i think, without having seen your writing, you’re probably being too hard on yourself. if you’re for-real-for-real using my writing as a style reference, i’m very flattered. if you message me off anon, i’d be happy to chat about it. let’s also not rule out that my style might just be nonsense and you’re struggling to figure it out because it’s, well, nonsense. let’s not forget we’re human here.

but in general, it’s an inexact science - like many things with writing, you kind of just have to feel it out. i don’t follow any body language rules that i don’t make myself follow with the rest of my narration, too. “stay in active voice,” “stay in third-person objective as much as you can,” and “use a verb only once per scene unless you’re really struggling.”

if finding focal points on a character’s body helps you, let’s look at it that way. which body part is changing? what were they holding still, but are now moving? which part of their face is communicating their expression the most? i notice that people emote a lot in their eyebrows, which may be where eyes get their reputation for being “windows to the soul.” some people talk with their hands or interact a lot with the furniture around them. some people are more self-contained.

more importantly, what do you notice? what do you like to think about? your sense of human observation is what will make your writing yours. do you find yourself paying attention to people’s hands a lot? or maybe their posture? you’re not doing it wrong if you’re not doing it exactly like me.

if you want some more detailed thoughts, i’ve included one of my usual tl;drs below the cut. these are less a direct answer to your question and more ideas i have about writing body language in general.

1. acting helps

if you’re writing a character that somebody has portrayed onscreen, you’ll have a big advantage when you try to write how they move. skilled actors are able to give their characters a distinct physical presence, and it’s all just sitting there for you to study and work from.

this is the big reason i like modeling my characters on famous people. i mean, well, mainly i just love movies and daydreaming about what filmed versions of my stories would be like. but when you have that base, you can look up videos of them and analyze everything from their physical habits to the cadence of their voice. how do they sit? what kind of roles have they performed well in? certain people just fit into a time period or aesthetic like a glove. i was completely lost with marcus until i made the connection between him and henry rollins, and then it all fell into place. that stiff, over-disciplined posture and tamped-down nervous energy were perfect for a career military man with a lot of inner turmoil.

in crowley’s case, david tennant is a very physical actor. anyone who writes good omens fic has a treasure trove of lanky, rubbery body language to work with. [aziraphale, my favorite, is kind of the underdog here. i love michael sheen’s performance, but aziraphale’s whole thing is restraint, so i guess crowley ends up being the one who jumps off the page.] on the opposite end, agent 47 is extraordinarily still, with bursts of extraordinary brutality done with extraordinary precision. where crowley is swooshy, 47 is about no wasted movements. his body is wired to be a predator even when he’s off the job. i know it’s weird to compare a video game character to a live actor, but i assume 47 was mocapped, so just… bear with me.

once i have that frame of reference - or i don’t, and i have to come up with my own - i start to act out the character myself. i’ve talked about this before: i feel more comfortable writing a character when i can “embody” them, imitating their body language as i read their dialogue. i must look pretty eccentric when i do it, but it works.

P.S: of course you don’t have to limit yourself to trained actors. you can just as easily reach into your personal life. a lot of authors get incredible results from going back to their mother, or a friend, or some tragic first love.

2. simple, but specific verbs

i’ve heard that a lot of creative writing teachers find their students are timid about the strength of verbs. they’ll bend over backwards to “soften the blow” with gerunds or other unnecessary clutter because they’re not confident that they’ve chosen the right one. “he was sitting on the stump and starting to carefully carve a bar of soap when she came over and he pressed a kiss to her hand.” that kind of thing. my preference is, own it. choose a good verb and leave it naked. let it speak for itself. be declarative. be more forceful in your personality. fight. WIN!

for the record, i’m not averse to using a thesaurus. i think they get a bad rap because of writers who shoehorn in SAT words to make themselves sound more intelligent. did your character walk across the room, or did they pace? did they stroll? did they stride? did they lope? did they run, or dash, or scamper, or bolt? they all feel different, don’t they?

counterpoint: some people add flourishes to their body language so that you’ll really linger on the feature in question. the first thing that comes to mind is romance, where they want you to think long and hard about, i don’t know, the hidden strength in the love interest’s folded hands. this is… i feel… a matter of artistic discretion. it’s not my thing - i prefer to describe more neutrally - but many people love it. it’s something my producers at voltage lovingly bap me on the head about, because lovestruck games are all about zesty High Romance™ and i always wish i could play it down with my plain, unromantic prose. i used to rail away about it in other people’s work. now? whatever. i’m not here to judge you. writing is hard.

3. on the other hand, don’t be afraid to get colorful

if, in the process of writing, you discover some quirky figurative twist that nails dead-on what you’re envisioning, i say go for it. especially if you’re not trying to be wholly detached as a narrator. if i tell you a character “scooted across the bed like a seal,” it gives you a pretty clear mental image, doesn’t it?

if you have a distinctive voice - and i’m sure you do - i think these are the times where you, the writer, as a character are really going to come out. the reason we keep coming back to, say, mark twain is because nobody “prose talks” quite like he did. whether you like it or dislike it, it’s unique.

full disclosure: this is a potent spice, so you may want to use it in moderation. the most fanciful comparisons may work better in comedy, when you have a little more room to be out-there. my mother defines humor as “associating two unlike things in a way that highlights the absurdity of how similar they actually are.” it may not be a coincidence that a curious case of miracles and death and orchids are less serious stories, so i felt comfortable being sillier with my figurative language, and that may have made crowley and 47 seem more expressive. YMMV!

[camillemontespan]

lost stars [AU. drake, camille, leo and olivia] [final chapter]

Here we go, the final chapter! Thank you to everyone who has commented, reblogged and messaged me to say how much they’ve enjoyed this series. I’ve loved writing it. 

Warnings: NSFW. Also a disturbing ‘Would You Rather?’ question. My boyfriend once asked me this and I had to use it for this fic. I’m sorry. 

Fluff (shitload of fluff). 

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @emceesynonymroll  @themingdynasty 

@gardeningourmet @burnsoslow @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @carabeth @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld

If anyone’s interested, here’s the song that inspired the name of the series and general vibe: 

            ***************************************************************

Drake opened his eyes slowly, having been awoken by something touching his body. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down and smiled softly when he saw Camille kissing her way down his chest.

'Hey you,' he murmured, feeling himself harden as he watched her lips kiss his skin. Camille looked up at him from under her eyelashes. 'Good morning,' she whispered.

Drake groaned as he felt her tongue lick down his hip lines as her hands roamed the muscles in his arms. She was practically worshipping him.

'I could get used to this type of wake up call,' Drake joked. He reached out to take Camille's hands, just because he wanted to touch her. Camille's lips trailed like wildfire across his body before he felt her take hold of his hard cock. He let out a gasp as she leaned down to take him in her mouth.

'Oh fuck, Camille!'

She continued to move her head up and down while her hand slowly pumped up and down his length. Camille took him in deeper, groaning as she did so. Drake listened to her enjoying working him.

'I want you,' he whispered.

Camille slowly pulled away and looked at him with a mischievous smile on her face. 'I was hoping you would say that.'

She straddled him and Drake reached out to touch her- she wasn't wearing underwear under her pink silk negligee. He could feel her wetness and it made him hungry.

She gently slid down onto him, taking Drake in fully, and began to buck her hips as she moved. Drake sat up, pulling her in close. He slipped her negligee off and cast it aside, dying to feel her skin against his. He kissed her neck as he cupped her breasts with his hands, kneading her and teasing her as if she was unmade clay.

Camille looked at him, the gold flecks in her brown eyes shining. Drake growled at the sight of her and his mouth crashed against hers. He was mad for her. Completely and utterly mad for her.

                          **************************************************

Once they had disentangled themselves from the bedsheets, Camille and Drake went through to the kitchen to brew coffee. Drake's mouth twitched at the corner when he saw how dishevelled he had made Camille's hair.

As Drake set up the coffee machine, Camille leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed. 'So I'm going to be busy for a few hours today,' she told him. 'I'll be here but I need space.'

Drake blinked. 'Oh. What are you doing?'

She awkwardly shuffled on her feet and tightened the rope of her mint green silk dressing gown.

'I'm getting rid of stuff that reminds me of Leo,' she admitted. 'He took his things but there's still stuff in the apartment that reminds me of him, so I'm having a Leo detox.'

Drake smiled weakly. 'I get it. You want me to head out for a few hours? Leave you alone?'

She nodded. 'If that's okay? I just think it would be best if I dealt with it myself.'

Drake drew her in for a hug and pressed a kiss on top of her forehead. 'Of course. Take all the time you need.'

                       ****************************************************

Leo and Olivia had ended up on the same return flight back from Paris, which would have annoyed her originally except Olivia had now just accepted that he was her little Parisian shadow. Her annoying little Parisian shadow.

They were sat on separate aisles but that didn't stop Leo from turning around to catch her attention, two aisles in front of her. He inclined his head towards the plane bathroom and gave her a wink.

Olivia rolled her eyes and continued to read the in-flight magazine, trying to concentrate on the article.

She couldn't.

Leo tapped the flight attendant on the elbow and said something to her which Olivia couldn't catch. The flight attendant caught Olivia's eyes and gave her a knowing smile. She strutted down the plane and Leo chuckled, turning back to read his book.

Olivia went back to reading about the best restaurants to eat in if you happened to be in Budapest.

'Miss?'

Olivia jumped. Standing at her seat was the flight attendant. She held out a glass of champagne to Olivia and gestured towards Leo.

'The blonde gentleman sends his love,' she told Olivia with that knowing smile again. It grated on Olivia.

Olivia took the glass and watched as Leo turned to look at her with a lazy smile on his face. Olivia scowled and tossed back the champagne before unbuckling her seat belt. She began to stride towards Leo and as she passed him, she muttered, ' You are relentless.'

She strode with purpose to the bathroom and let herself inside. Facing the mirror, she studied her reflection.

The door knocked three times and opened slowly.

Leo's reflection stared back at her, triumphant.

'I may be relentless,' he said, ' but you love it, Nevrakis.'

As he kissed her hungrily, Olivia couldn't deny it.

                      ***************************************************

It turned out that a lot of the items in the apartment reminded Camille of Leo. For the third time that morning, she considered just burning down the apartment all together.

She was sat cross legged on the living room floor with objects scattered around her. She picked up a photograph of her and Leo which was taken at one of Camille's work events. It had been a Beaumont Bash, named after her law firm Beaumont LLP, and it had been a black tie affair. The photo showed Leo twirling Camille around the dance floor and the camera had caught her during fits of laughter.

Leo always liked to dance dramatically as if nobody was watching.

Camille felt a twinge in her heart. They had had good times, happy memories.

Leo and Camille had been together for a long time. There was still some love there, of course there was.

Camille's eyes scanned the rest of the objects before settling on a diamond necklace Leo had bought her.

It had been ostentatious. Too sparkly and over the top. Diamonds were not Camille's thing at all, but when he had presented her the necklace after they had argued about something stupid, she had accepted it with a wide smile on her face and put it on. She had pushed down the feeling that she was suffocating.

Leo didn't really know her. That was the overwhelming thought Camille kept having as she sorted through these items.

Camille felt a flicker of excitement when she realised she could start making memories with Drake.

So why hold onto these things that reminded her of Leo? Why not just get rid of it all? Especially after Leo had broken the picture frame of the photo in Paris. Remembering the photo, she rushed to the bedroom where it lay crumpled on the side table. She picked it up and placed it with the other memories.

Defiantly, Camille gathered up the photographs, the necklace and other objects. She threw them into a rubbish bag and carried it downstairs to the skip on the other side of the road. She dumped the rubbish bag into the skip with a flourish and triumphantly made her way back to the apartment, deciding that a celebratory glass of wine was needed.

                 ***************************************************

Drake decided to go back to Camille's after being out at a coffee shop for four hours. He had mainlined five coffees on that time and he was buzzing.

He opened the apartment door with the spare key Camille had given him and frowned when he heard music coming from the living room, the beat guiding him through the hallway.

Entering the living room, he stopped to watch Camille who was dancing around the living room, her back to him, with a glass of wine in her hand, singing along to the music.

All the women, who are independent

Throw your hands up at me

All the honeys, who making money

Throw your hands up at me

All the mommas, who profit dollars

Throw your hands up at me

All the ladies, who truly feel me

Throw your hands up at me

She proceeded to drop down to the floor as she sang, 'Girl I didn't know you could get down like that, Charlie, how your Angels get down like that!'

Drake burst out laughing, making Camille scream. She whipped around to face him, a look of horror on her face. The horror quickly faded to embarrassment.

'Oh god, you caught me dancing to my jam..' she mumbled. Drake smiled and made his way over to her.

'So did you do your Leo detox?'

She nodded. 'Yup.  It’s all in the garbage, which is when I decided that Beyonce, Kelly and Michelle would feel proud of me. So.. here I am.'

Drake twirled her around and kissed her softly. She tasted of wine.

'But you're okay?' he asked gently.

Camille looked up at him, her gaze steady. 'Now I'm with you, yeah.'

                     **************************************************

Leo and Olivia made their way through JFK. Olivia held her head high, trying to ignore the fact that she had yet again degraded herself on an airplane bathroom sink.

Leo walked with a swagger because he had had sex with her on said airplane bathroom sink.

They reached the taxi rank. 'So, want to share one?' he suggested brightly. Olivia crossed her arms and stared at him with a look that could break glass.

'No. We're not repeating our Paris trip,' she said.

'Ah, our Paris trip!' he replied, grinning wolfishly.

Olivia turned red and stumbled over her words. 'No, I didn't mean that, I meant MY Paris trip which you hijacked!'

He looked at her seriously now. 'Olivia,' he sighed. 'To quote Ferris Bueller, you are so tight, I could shove a lump of coal up your ass and in two weeks,  you would shit out a diamond.'

She glared at him. 'Fuck off. And that's not the script.'

Leo shrugged. 'It's true though. You’re so uptight and rigid about keeping your feelings in, you won’t let go. When are you just going to stop trying to deny this? You like me. I like you. Give it up.'

Olivia closed her eyes. 'You're just.. Ugh I don't know. I don't need you.'

Leo stepped closer to her, his green eyes focused on her. His thumb ran softly along her hand. 'I know you don't need anyone,' he whispered. 'That's one of the reasons why I like you so damn much. But you want me, Liv, and that's a big difference.'

He opened the taxi door for her. 'Your chariot awaits.'

Olivia frowned. 'You're not sharing?'

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. 'Why, do you want me to?'

Olivia bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Leo rolled his eyes. 'Get in the cab, Liv,' he told her. 'Safe trip home.'

She got inside silently and Leo passed the driver a 50 dollar bill. 'Get her back safe,' he told the driver.

The taxi rolled away and Olivia watched out the window as Leo picked up his luggage and went to the bus stop.

The silence in the taxi was excruciating. She had become used to her little Parisian shadow. Olivia thought back over the past few days in Paris when they had hung out, taking in the sights and actually having a good time. No, scratch that. They had a riot. 

He had helped her pick a red Chanel lipstick, patiently waiting as she tried different shades. When he bought her the shade she liked, she had spontaneously kissed his cheek, leaving her mark. Leo had actually blushed before clearing his throat, suggesting they get a drink.  

She had pushed the memory to the back of her mind, ashamed that she had voluntarily kissed him on the cheek in a sickeningly playful way.  But as Olivia thought about him, she realised that things with Leo were different; he was fun. He challenged her. He made her step out of her comfort zone. 

The memory of the Chanel lipstick woke her up to what she was driving away from. 

'STOP!' she shouted, causing the driver to jump. He stopped the vehicle and Olivia grabbed her suitcase before bursting out of the taxi door. She began to run towards the airport bus stop, not caring that her heels were too high for such an activity or that she looked undignified.

The airport bus to the city pulled up and the line of people, including Leo, began to make their way towards the open doors.

'Leo!' Olivia shouted, picking up the pace. 'Leo, wait!'

He turned with a confused look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw her racing towards him with her red hair falling out of its neat bun.

'Liv?' he said, staring at her.

Olivia reached him. Out of breath, she threw her luggage down to the ground and threw her arms around his neck. Her lips crashed against his and he let out a surprised gasp.

Olivia was certain he would push her away. But he didn't. Instead he picked her up off the ground and twirled her, still kissing her desperately.

They didn't notice the bus pull away. They were too caught up in each other. Besides, they could always catch the next one.

            *********************************************************************

One Year Later

Drake and Camille were sat at a table near the corner of the Italian restaurant. Around them, diners happily ate their dishes and toasted their glasses, laughing merrily.

Drake and Camille were playing, ‘Would You Rather?’

‘Hmmm.. would you rather... have vaginas for ears or vaginas all over your back?’ Drake asked. 

Camille burst out laughing. ‘Ewww, Drake! That’s disgusting!’

Drake shrugged and took a sip of his beer. ‘Come on now.’

Camille took a sip of her wine and thought seriously, her eyebrows knitting together. Drake could see the cogs in her mind turning. 

‘Vaginas for ears. I can always hide them by having my hair down. I do not want vaginas all over my back.’

Drake chuckled. ‘Okay, you ask me.’

Camille was about to think of a more disturbing question but her attention was caught by two people waiting at the restaurant door to be seated. 

‘Oh my God, there’s Leo and Olivia,’ she whispered. 

Drake looked up and his face paled. ‘Oh god. We haven’t seen them since..’

‘We broke up,’ Camille finished. ‘I didn’t know they were together!’

Drake was still staring at them.  ‘Well, this is awkward.’

Olivia looked around the restaurant and her eyes caught Drake’s. Her eyes widened in surprise. 

Drake held up his bottle of beer in greeting as Camille waved shyly. Olivia inclined her head at the two of them, a casual hello,  before her eyes flashed to Drake’s bottle; she looked relieved when she saw it was only beer. Drake’s heart warmed. Clearly, she still cared enough about him to want him to stay away from whiskey.  

Leo looked over at them and visibly stepped back in shock. Again, Drake and Camille greeted him as they did Olivia. 

Leo raised his hand as a hello before the waiter took his attention. Olivia and Leo were led to the other side of the restaurant. 

            *******************************************************************

Olivia was glad she couldn’t see Drake and Camille. That had been a surprise. Instead, she could see Leo sat in front of her, all golden. Once he had recovered from seeing Camille (he had gone very quiet), he was back to being his usual jubilant self, which was how Olivia liked it. 

She studied the menu. ‘So, I’m going to go for the lobster..’ she mused, ‘but I’m thinking we could just have dessert to go?’

Leo blinked. ‘To go? You don’t want dessert here?’

Olivia ran her foot up his leg towards his crotch and gave him a wicked smile, the one she knew he couldn’t resist. 

‘I was thinking we could have it in bed? I can do some twisted things with a cherry on my tongue..’ 

Leo grinned and snapped his menu shut. ‘I fucking love you.’

               *********************************************************************

Drake helped Camille with her coat. As she thanked the waiter for the hospitality and gave him a generous tip, Drake opened his coat discreetly to check it was still safe. 

His grandmother’s engagement ring was inside his jacket, neatly stashed. 

Drake had been paranoid he would lose it on the taxi ride over to the restaurant but thank God. 

‘So, taxi home?’ Camille asked, shooting him a bright smile. 

Drake’s plan needed to come into motion now. ‘Actually, I was thinking we take a walk through Central Park?’ he suggested. ‘Lovely night, quite warm, the stars are out.’ 

Camille kissed him gently. ‘You’re such a marshmallow,’ she told him. ‘A walk through the park sounds perfect.’ 

Drake smiled and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her out the restaurant. He didn’t look back at Leo and Olivia.  Why would he? 

He had everything he needed right here. 

They wandered towards Central Park and Drake pushed down his nerves. This was it. He hoped she would say yes. 

The city around them buzzed with vitality but when they reached the park, it was peaceful in comparison. Drake and Camille went inside, the sounds of the city fading the deeper they wandered. Drake looked up at the sky which was clear. He could see the stars shining down on the two of them, their own galaxy. 

Reaching out for her arm, he stopped Camille, who turned to him in surprise. ‘You okay, Drake?’ she asked. 

Drake cleared his throat, willing courage to come to him. 

‘Camille, I have something to ask you...’

[amaanfr-blog]

There was no one

(Spiderman homecoming, Irondad)

Waring: Suicide attempt, happy ending.

Summary:

My take on what was going in Peter's head when the warehouse collapsed on him, how he coped with it and what Tony Stark did about it.

"I just wanted to be like you,"

"and I wanted you to be better."

...

Well then. If Tony Stark could come out of a terrorist cave with shrapnel at his heart, wear a suit and save the world then the universe could damn well expect Peter Parker to get a measly building of his back.

But it hurt. The last bits of his courage collapsed with the warehouse. When he realized that his attempts at dodging the vulture were nothing. Then came the orchestra of broken bones, followed by gushing blood.

If only he had the suit. If he just had Karen for a few seconds. Anybody or AI that would listen.

"Help! H-help! please!" His voice broke. "Anybody! please...I'm down here, I'm stuck-I'm stuck I can't move I can't-I can't..."

And yet, there was no one.

He wondered if Mr. Stark would be more disappointed or embarrassed if he saw him right now. He wasn't doing this for Mr. Stark though, or Liz, or to get his suit back.

He was going to survive this and stop the vulture. So that innocent people don’t get hurt when Avenger level weaponry goes into the hands of people who would do anything for money.

Was he going to cry under a heap of concrete or get back on his feet and stop an aircraft hijacking, Spiderman-style?

“come on Spiderman, come on Spiderman, come” he groaned when something pointy grazed the slash on his leg. “come…on Spiderman”

Where lifting the rubble took every drop of physical strength he had, it taught  him something priceless in return:

He didn’t need a suit to be Spiderman.

...

Did Mr. stark get nightmares too? every time Peter closed his eyes, the concrete came back, laughing at him, mocking him. was he trying to be a superhero? he was an insect who survived being squashed. Nothing more.

He'd wake up crying, and his tears were nothing like the blood that kept gushing that night. tears were transparent, blood was red. Just like his Spiderman suit. just like Mr. Stark's armor.

Did Mr. Stark cry himself to sleep too?

...

The suit had grown on him, swinging out the window, he sat on the highest roof in eyesight, the moon was silver, not red like Ironman, or Spiderman, or his blood. it wasn't transparent like the tears of a teenage crybaby. It was a beautiful shade of silver.

If Mr. Stark found out he was crying on a random roof because of something that happened years ago, he'd definitely take his suit away. Peter immediately ripped the suit off, it had started to sting.

Thank god he was wearing something underneath.

He cocked his head and looked, down. Cars buzzing away and litten apartments and busy hotels. So many people were under him.

There was no one at the warehouse. One tear. he screamed, another tear, no one listened, he tried not to whimper.

No one would listen. No one ever listens. If he jumped, would people listen? they do say actions speak louder than words.

Would they care if their friendly neighborhood Spiderman suddenly disappeared?

Of course not. People remember the suave guy who saved all known and unknown worlds. not the kid who helped some old lady cross the fucking road. Do even you remember the name of the last guy who opened the door for you?

With that in mind he stood on the edge, how metaphorical, he had been on the edge for the past three years, this was just in a more literal sense.

He leaned forward, he was falling, no web following him, no safety buffer, just as he closed his eyes, May came to mind. Oh god, what was he doing, she'll be destroyed after this, first his parents then Ben, oh god please he'd do anything for May not to care about him. Ned, MJ, the Churro lady was going to hate him for this! Then Came Mr. Stark.

"And if you died, I feel like that's on me, I don't want that on my conscience"  he didn't have his web shooters he was gonna die, why did he leave them up there-wait he should've hit the ground by now.

Then he realized the pair of red metal arms holding him up. But Ironman wasn't moving, just floating, shaking.

Peter definitely fucked up.

"M-Mr. Stark-"

"One word, kid, one. Why?"

Peter couldn't see his expression with the Ironman mask on. It was so much more terrifying.

They were back on the roof, now.

Peter quickly dismissed another roof from his mind, another day, another disappointment.

"Why?!" Tony screamed. Mr. Stark hardly raised his voice.

"The warehouse" Peter was uncharacteristically quiet. Tony’d do anything to exchange this for a never-ending Star Wars marathon with his kid.

Honestly, he expected him to experience all the trauma Avengers went through, no matter how hard he tried to throw that fact to the back of his brain.

Because he caused this. Tony Stark practically kidnapped a minor, lied to his aunt, threw him into a multi-million dollar suit and made him fight captain god damn America. then came saving ferries and fighting vultures.

But what warehouse?

the very fact that he didn't know something that caused his kid (*this kid) to attempt suicide made his insides turn to stone.

"What warehouse?"

Peter looked up at him, his brown eyes swirling with panic.

Tony glared at him. "What made the friendly pg thirteen Spiderman jump off a building?"

The kid visibly curled into himself, instinctive. defensive. Damn, Tony couldn't do anything right.

"When, when you took the suit away, I went to thi-this this" the tears were flooding, messing with the kid's audio quality. "warehouse, and the vulture was there and did you know his wings are very strong? and they can cut through walls and that's what they did and and I was-"

Tony wished he was an idiot. he wished he was oblivious. Ironman wished he wasn't so painfully overconfident. he wished he didn't finish Peter's words.

"You were in there. and the building collapsed" Peter nodded, staring at the ground.

Tony felt sick.

What had he done?

-the end-

(lol nah, i’m not that evil XD, continue reading, love)

Peter had given up not crying a long time ago, but the boy still had the audacity to look away and hide his tears behind his hand. As if that could stop those moonlit streaks and drops to haunt Tony forever.

Without thinking, he hugged the weeping kid in front of him. Said kid chuckled. “That’s not a hug”

“I’m just opening the door for you” Tony finished with a melancholic smile.

Peter sat down, legs hanging above Queens. For some reason, Stark knew he wouldn’t try jumping again.

Peter sighed and looked up at him. “First, I’m so sorry, second, this isn’t your fault, third: I’m not suicidal”

Tony pulled off his helmet. “That’s a little hard to believe taking into account that you just jumped off a building without your web shooters.” Ironman sat beside him.

There it was again, the panic in Peter’s eyes. “No, please no, what I did, I wasn’t thinking and now that I am, I know that I don’t want to go I won't leave you or May or Ned or Mj or the churro lady, nightmares aren’t supposed to-”

“Nightmares?” Tony narrowed his eyes, everything slowly falling into place. This kid was battling demons the size of his own.

Peter nodded, and He sighed. “Know how you like a song? and you listen to it over and over again?”

The teenager frowned, confused, but nodded again.

“And then you start hating it, it doesn't even sound like music anymore? Try that with your nightmare”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, but what?”

Tony reigned in the urge to sass the kid in front of him. “Play the nightmare in your head, over and over again. Painful, scary, a bit crazy but trust me, kid. I get nightmares too.” He slowed down a bit. “Play it until you get tired of watching yourself getting crushed and getting back up again. Get tired of hearing the voices repeat the same things over and over again. And you’ll see it for what it is.”

Peter cocked his head at him and grinned. How the kid still maintained that attitude was beyond him. ‘Mr. Stark, this is all sweet and Dumbledore-y of you but what exactly am I supposed to see it as?’

The billionaire rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me say it, kid,”

Chuckling Peter looked below, so many people were living their lives under him, yet the one who came to rescue him flew here from god knows where. “How did you know I was going to jump”

Tony looked straight into his eyes, no helmet. “You get a little suspicious when your kid takes his suit and swings to a roof, in the middle of the night, every night And this time decides to take it off”

Peter held his head in his hands, sighing dramatically. “Oh god, Mr. Stark. This is a whole other level of helicopter parenting” Tony glared at him and they waited in the midst of the tense silence before bursting into fits of laughter.

A/N:

YOU! YES YOU! are reading my first fanfic on tumblr, and it would make this girl Hela happy if you press the heart thingy and reblog because I SPENT 2 WEEKS ON THIS GODDAMNIT. I need a beta reader, so if you want to help me out then message me. 

 Just some clarifications:

1) i am not promoting suicide, at all. This oneshot came to be when i realized having a building drop on a 15 year old and have no one offer him a hand would mess with their brain, and have consequences, something marvel ignored in homecoming.

2) Just because we end the oneshot with both of them laughing, that in no meaning of the word means they’re “ok” But they will, eventually. (want me to write some fluff? ;) )

3) THIS WHOLE THING IS FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF PETER AND TONY. I IN NO WAY AM SAYING THAT PETER IS A WORTHLESS INSECT OR THAT TONY SHOULD BE BLAMED FOR EVERYTHING. I tried my best to think up how their perspective, and this is it.

4) This ain’t Starker, period.

Bai.