#this brought you to by my seeing size art and going 'oh. not for me but i GET it.'

[smollerghostbot]

so like, i'm not a furry (no shade though) and even if i was the art style of the game is a massive turn-off for anything explicit

but i get why there adult content of isabelle from anmal crossng (which i am mispelling because lord i don't want tumblr search to put this post on the main tag please)

a hardworking and dedicated, yet also clumsy and overworked secretary character? if she was not, like, a shih tzu with a head the size of her body, i would be having Thoughts.

[randombush3]

(extremely talented, creative) stalker

alexia putellas x reader

based on this and a poem from when i was little. i chose alexia because she fit the character more and i rushed this immensely because i was being pestered for attention by multiple creatures. oh and i went for something decently light-hearted bc these hozier fics have been affecting my soul and ruining my spotify daylists.

happy monday people x

p.s. not proof-read because it's lunchtime and i'm hungry (edit: i just did my proof-read now and i've realised that it was in fact not lunchtime??? it was past lunchtime and i was just zoned out!)

Alexia doesn’t care much for art. Sure, she admires the effort, the time such talent sits behind a canvas and marks something that was once blank until others begin to value it. She agrees with the masses about the beauty of quaint watercolour paintings of the coast, and she lets Mapi rave about charcoal and graphite and oils as if she understands what is so special about the varying media. 

She knows she is only here today because the art is about sports. The gallery seems almost reluctant to allow the athletes in, worried they have brought with them their football boots and cones to dribble around, but it would be bad practice to prohibit the muses from the collection. She isn’t an idiot, though, and she knows that no amount of forced reading about the artist and other sophisticated matters will slip her seamlessly into the crowd. 

There are lots of people; people she has never heard of, but make it clear they are far superior to her by the way in which their eyes politely drop to the tattoos inked onto her calloused hands. Their skin is soft, accustomed to the stems of crystal champagne flutes, and the drawings that hold so much personal meaning to the footballer are scrutinised to the point of silent… offence.  

So much for appreciators of art, she thinks to herself, counting down the minutes until it is acceptable for her to leave. 

With a huff and a vow to never – no matter how much she earns – forget where she has come from, Alexia staggers, uncomfortable in these particular heels, towards the painting she deems easiest to understand. 

It is the largest in the room: deep, crimson reds on top of familiar greens, streaks of gold falling out of a ponytail. 

Call Alexia egotistical, but anyone would be drawn to a painting of themselves. 

The artist has done a good job, she guesses, not entirely sure if there is a deeper meaning behind the grass stains on her socks or the crumpled shading of her Spain jersey. It is a little creepy that someone she does not know has captured her likeness so expertly, so practised. 

“The nose isn’t quite right,” a voice says beside her. 

Alexia turns in surprise, amused enough by the stranger’s observation to examine her painted face, eyes not drawn from how majestic her image is beginning to seem. She sees no obvious issue, and so she replies, “I think it’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

She is still staring at herself, now impressed by the grandeur of the painting; its size, its quality. “Well, I am unsure how someone painted me so accurately when I was never called in for a… I don’t know, a consultation? And it seems a little weird to me that my hair is loose, because I tend to slick it back so it doesn’t fall out of my ponytail, and, you know, I always have something written on my boots, but otherwise, it’s fine. I doubt anyone here has ever watched a football match, so none of this will matter to them.” 

“It doesn’t bother you that someone might pay millions for a painting that you have deemed not-quite-right?” 

The voice is somewhat too interested, and suddenly Alexia swivels around to face its owner properly, worried she has spoken her mind to a journalist. 

“Those millions go to a charity that will improve women’s sports every–” 

You are definitely not a journalist, although once, when art really wasn’t paying, you had off-handedly typed out a few articles for one of the bigger galleries. 

Alexia knows you are not a journalist because you are dressed to be in front of the cameras, not behind them. 

Your hands hang by your sides, but in a rather unnatural manner as though you are itching to do something else, and she is briefly overcome by the horror that you seem elegant enough to be a potential buyer. Has she put you off? 

“Oh,” you interrupt, “don’t be so profound. Sometimes you footballers sound like change-making machines.” 

“There is change to be made,” she responds indignantly. 

“Hence the exhibition,” you allow with a little smirk, nodding towards the rest of the room. Although the biggest of the collection, you had asked for your painting to be displayed in the corner; a filter, in a sense, to ensure no one throws money at the largest thing in the room just because they can. “It creeps you out to be painted?” 

The question is curious, but Alexia no longer feels like she has been caged in an interrogation room. 

She thinks about her answer for a moment, torn between returning to gaze at the expanse of the scene in front of her or staring at you, wondering if you count as one of the works of art on display. 

“I have never met the artist,” she explains neutrally. You laugh, and it sounds infused with champagne and nervousness. “What? It’s like having a stalker. An extremely talented, creative stalker, but someone who studies me in secret nonetheless.” 

“No, I understand. She must have researched you until the ends of the Earth.” 

“The artist is a woman?” She isn’t sure she is surprised, but she asks you anyway, wanting to anchor you to the spot. 

“Alexia, this is an exhibition for women’s sports.” Your point is valid, but you have said her name and she is far more intrigued by the way that had sounded to praise you for your intelligence. You let out an airy breath and click your tongue. “I’d even say, given by the way she has painted you from the back, that the artist fancies you.”

“It’s the squats,” she easily replies with a giggle. “Who is the artist?” 

You take a step towards her, the sharp points of your heels clacking against the concrete floor. She follows your index finger to the white plaque beside the canvas, reading the name written in small, black letters. 

“I haven’t heard of her.” 

Alexia sounds so thoughtful that you have to hide your smile behind your palm, coughing to provide an excuse for the action. 

“Because you’ve heard of quite a few artists, haven’t you?” 

“I know the main four.” 

“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?” 

“No.” 

Again, you laugh, and it is melodious and rich and Alexia wants to hear it for the rest of her life. Which is not normal, she tells herself, because you are some loaded stranger and she is only here for another hour before she can escape back to the pitch and her teammates who like her tattoos and admire her and respect her hard work without seeing her as some tacky social-climber who scrounged an invite to an area of society where she is institutionally unwanted. 

“Picasso,” she then offers, rather petulantly, looking at you with a childish frown. In her head, she estimates the distance between your bodies, noticing how you have not returned to your original position. 

“Ah, well done. He’s quite niche.” She doesn’t appreciate the teasing, and so she steps sideways to… put a stop to it somehow. Obviously, the plan had never truly been formulated, and it comes across as a half-lunge to push you away, but then you are swinging your arms as though the conversation is boring you and she desperately wishes you’d stay put. 

“What do you think about the painting?” she fires into the shortened space between you, the question wrapping around you like a rope that ties you to the spot. 

“It’s boring.” She scoffs, because after all, it is a painting of her. “The poor artist must have been tortured by the task, having to force her eyes to stay open while watching football matches.” 

And if Alexia were not so distracted by the way your swinging hand has begun to brush against her own, she would probably catch you out there and then. 

(But your touch is electric and she is otherwise engaged.) 

“Like, come on, can’t the sports photographers just get their pictures blown up? No one needs such an outrageously huge portrait of Alexia Putellas in their home, or stadium, or whatever. I reckon the artist is now regretting the angle she painted from, anyway, in case some pervert with more money than sense bids for it and hangs it up in his bedroom.” 

“Bedroom?”

The tips of Alexia’s ears go red, a stark contrast to the expensive silver hoops she sports, and you stop your fidgeting, hand resting on top of hers – perhaps unintentionally – as her misunderstanding wedges an awkward pause into the middle of your rant. 

“Sorry,” you apologise, “that was probably not the best thing to say, considering it’s a painting of you.” 

Alexia runs through what you have said, hoping her subconscious has caught it while her mind was preoccupied with what your sexual orientation might be. “Why have you come here if you are so against the principle of it?” 

“I was required to,” you explain, through half-gritted teeth and a jaw that tenses with leftover annoyance from a conversation you had with the coordinator. 

Seizing the opportunity to get a humorous punch back, Alexia quickly fumbles out a, “someone’s important.” 

She’d celebrate her victory over you, the way you blush in embarrassment, if you hadn’t started anxiously playing with her fingers. Suddenly, the air that bridges the gap between you is set alight and Alexia stares at where you are connected. 

You hastily pull away. “Sorry,” you say for a second time. “I have to sell this, and I’m nervous.” 

“Sell wh– The painting?” 

“No, Alexia, I’ve been sent by Real Madrid to hold you hostage so I have to sell this act.” Briefly, fear washes over the footballer’s face, tanned skin paling at the idea that you have a weapon concealed in the satin folds of your dress. Then, your hand makes a decisive movement and your fingers are intertwining with hers before she can run to safety. “I thought it was best to lure you in by flirting with you.” 

“You’ve been… flirting with me?” 

“God, imagine if I actually were here to kidnap you.” You hold up your joined hands so that she can see for herself. “Is your weakness women who bully you?” 

She blushes again, unsure how to handle what you have insinuated. 

Alexia grasps onto what little dignity remains and straightens herself, shoulders rolling back as she emulates the confidence she has been painted with. “Only pretty women,” she drawls. 

She is about to use whichever line appears in her mind first, completely unashamed by it because she has guessed you would tease her no matter what leaves her mouth, but some evil, cruel person clinks a small fork against their glass, clearing their throat, and your hands quickly return to your body, your attention drawn away from the conversation. 

“Thank you all for coming,” announces the event coordinator, clearly gearing up for a speech. “There will be time for more chatting later, but I cannot resist showing off our most talented artist any longer.” 

You roll your eyes. The expression is directed at Alexia, who chuckles privately, sunshine blooming in her chest that you have spared a silent comment just for her. 

“Y/n, darling, where are you?” 

An authoritative gaze searches through the crowd and lands on you.

The dots connect, Alexia begins to feel like an idiot, and you are sashaying away before she can ask you to stay.

[thewertsearch]

ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help […] KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science

At this point. Kanaya is Human Sarcasming better than most actual humans.

ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic […] KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

I think Dave taught Kanaya more about the art of trolling in a single conversation than Eridan could in an entire lifetime.

That guy can troll better than most actual trolls.

ERIDAN: wwhats that thing there KANAYA: The Matriorb KANAYA: I Was About To Go Hatch It In The Core To Restore Our Race ERIDAN: that sounds ERIDAN: hopeful […] ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it […] KANAYA: Fine

I’m all for the construction of neo-Alternia, but I really don't think Eridan should be on the planning committee, unless we also want a neo-hemospectrum.

Honestly, the only trolls I'd really trust to rebuild their society are the bottom half of the hemospectrum, and possibly Gamzee. The other highbloods can go sit in the corner.

ERIDAN: its not magic wwe talked about this kar KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS

I don’t see how Hope translates to a robot-exploding beam, though.

If it was wizards he was blowing up, I’d understand, because it would be consistent with my theory that he's weaponizing his hatred of FRAUDULENT MAGIC. If anything, his Science Wand should strengthen a robot, since it's a product of the TRUEST SCIENCES.

ERIDAN: i had a harder time than anybody wwith this game ERIDAN: it wwas really fuckin unfair wwhat challenges i got saddled wwith ERIDAN: i wwoulda fuckin MURDERED for a land full of a lot a harmless brains and fire ERIDAN: but no ERIDAN: it wwas so lonely ERIDAN: hey guys anybody wwant to come hang out wwith me in the land a wwrath and angels

That sounds cool, though. Angels, I assume, are how Hope is represented in his Land, and I’m sure Eridan synergized well with its wrath. I wonder what physical form it took?

ERIDAN: anybody at all i knoww it isnt anythin like one of your flippin land picnics ERIDAN: anybody please ill evven settle for the kittycat shipper cavve girl

You can't complain about loneliness and then insult your ‘friend’ in the same breath. That's not how any of this works, and the fact that you're unaware of this should tell you everything you need to know about why you're lonely.

So Karkat does know about Nepeta’s little crush. He is a relationship aficionado, after all.

Poor Nepeta.

I sort of figured Karkat didn't reciprocate her feelings. He's preoccupied with plenty of other redrom prospects, and he basically never mentions her.

Karkat’s honestly a little too nice to Eridan. He’s being such a bro here, but what Eridan actually needs is to be brought down to size a little.

Granted, I think Eridan needs a bigger shock to the system than an angry tirade from Karkat. I feel like Terezi could tear him to pieces - but since it's unfair to expect her to put up with him alone, I'd put both the Scourge Sisters on this assignment. >:)

What Karkat is aptly demonstrating here is that there’s a difference between an Eridan kind of asshole and a Karkat kind of asshole.

Let's be real, here - Karkat's a dick. But he's a dick who holds no true malice, knows when he's crossed a line, and is willing to sincerely apologize for his past actions, and make amends.

Eridan possesses none of these qualities, which is why he sat alone in his house for a month while Karkat befriended the entire cast.

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 6 - Next

"Do you like art exhibitions? It has opened one by my favorite artist."

You mentioned handing a brochure to Curly.

Curly: "Oh, I didn't know you liked art."

He unfolded the brochure to start looking at the details of the exhibition.

"What does that mean?"

Curly: "Ah- nothing, nothing... He's a very reserved artist, huh? 'The man who never shows faces, after years brings his new collection', sounds great."

"I'm surprised he brought another collection, he had been inactive for years," you smiled, "Here are some examples of old and somewhat popular works, what do you think?"

You pointed to some images in a collage that were in the brochure of previous exhibitions.

There was a mix of realism, abstract paintings, and cartoon-like styles.

Curly: "He has... many styles, it's incredible. I would love to go see his works."

"I'm glad to hear that because~ I already have two tickets for their exhibition~"

You showed him the tickets excitedly and handed him his.

In the afternoon, you headed to the exhibition and entered the building. There were many people admiring the paintings; there were all sizes and styles, even the children were entertained by the cartoon-like paintings, surely a great collection.

There was one detail that always caught everyone's attention: in his paintings, he never showed the faces of those he painted, perhaps a way to maintain their anonymity.

Faces covered with plants, with careless strokes, hats, or even covering themselves with hands, veils, or the person being turned away, among other things.

Curly stopped to look at one in particular, which he felt was too personal.

The artwork was called "A Winner Among So Many Losses."

It was a torso without a head, with a background of a starry night, as if it were submerged in space, and four bright stars formed the silhouette of its head.

X: "What happened to those people was horrible. Don't you think? I wonder if anyone understands the meaning of this painting, or if they have already forgotten that tragedy."

An elderly man in a wheelchair had stopped beside him, looking at the painting with a relaxed smile.

X: "People tend to forget events very quickly, it's good that someone frames them so they can be remembered, because that way those lost people will always be present in our minds." 

"Curly! I didn't realize you had stopped," you returned to his side and observed the man next to him.

Soon a woman came running towards you and took the man's chair, scolding him for going off on his own, to which the man just laughed and gently patted the woman's face, making her smile.

They both said goodbye to continue viewing the exhibition on their own, while you noticed how Curly remained staring at the painting in front of him.

Curly: "It's me. A faceless captain, lost, and the only one who will have the memory of his crew. The only captain who didn't sink with his ship and now bears the face of shame."

"Okay, okay, I think you're being too critical over a single painting," you patted his shoulders "Besides, their families will always remember them."

Curly: "Their families... What must they think of me?"

"They must feel pain... Resentment... They must be thinking, 'why did he come back and my daughter, or son, didn't?' Being a survivor is difficult, many will be happy for you, but others... They will only suffer because their loved one was n't the one who survived... As if you were to blame for something just because you're still alive."

You rested your cheek on his shoulder and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, trying to draw his attention away from the painting.

Curly: "...I should... contact them"

"If that makes you feel better... I can help you."

You smiled when he slowly took his gaze away from that painting to walk by your side and continue looking at the other works in the exhibition.

Curly: "I understand why you like this artist so much... He has such detailed works and they evoke a lot of emotions in you."

"I'm glad to have someone who shares that thought! You know? I could never bring my sister here to appreciate these paintings, she always said she didn't have time... And then I stopped insisting."

Curly: "I think I remember... That she used to get angry when she saw ads about these exhibitions. She said she hated that artist because she didn't like that he didn't do faces, and it made her nervous and gave her chills."

"It's just that she is like you were, she only saw the general image, didn't go deeper, never gave it a chance. If she saw something and didn't like it, she refused to see the beauty in it..."

You stopped in front of a painting and sighed.

Although you didn't make any comment about it, you soon continued walking while Curly observed that piece called "Beautiful Smile on a Perfect Day."

It was a bride holding a man's arm, resting her head on his shoulder; the irony of that painting was that the bride wore a veil and no smile could be seen on her face.

He approached and tried to focus his gaze on the bride's face, noticing that the veil was not completely solid; if you looked closely, you could see the bride's face, with her eyes closed and a smile on her lips. 

"Curly! You're lagging behind again." 

Before he could see the woman's face in the painting better, he walked away and hurried to join you. 

That woman looked familiar to him...

[mangosrar]

never say never.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

warnings: smut. angst idk????

an: not proof read. more parts coming soon 😛😛😛

"matt have you seen my car keys" she hollered at him as she scurried around the kitchen.

"where are you going?" he asked as he peaked his head aoundd the door.

"i have to go home" she tilted her head and watched as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his hands on the small of her back, pulling her close.

"you dont have to go home, just move in with me" he brought his face closer to hers as her hands fiddled with the buttons on his dress shirt that was now creased and exposing his chest.

"i cant matt you know this, i need my studio" she told him.

"ill build you a studio here, hell id build you a whole art gallery if it meant i got to live with you doll" he moved his face to her cheek and planted a soft kiss there.

7 months ago.

just as she was bending down to press a display sticker to one of the signs, she felt a hard slap to her ass, spinning around she was met with violet smirking, leaned back against nathan. the two of them looked picturesque together. she wore a shimmery champagne dress while he wore a black suit.

"you look great rue" violet gushed.

"thanks vee" she wore a white dress tonight. it was a little more showy than she wouldve liked, low cut and short, but she had bought it last minute and didnt have time to change her mind. violet loved it, of course, she lived for dressing sexy.

"you did all this rory?" nate asked. gesturing to the room around them as he spoke. the place was heaving, every single piece of art in there was either already sold, or bring inquired for, thr room was decorated 'diligently' as her boss byron described. never once had that man complimented her so she was taking whatever she could get.

"yeah, worked my little ass of and byron wont let me display one piece of my art in here" she huffed out a breath rolling her eyes.

"Douch bag knows yours would sell for more than hes ever made" violet uttered.

she didnt even get the chance to reply before one of the artists was tapping on her shoulder making her spin around. "someone would like to make an offer on one of my pieces downstairs."

"oh yes of course" she turned back around. "drink, mingle, have fun. ill find you guys in a bit"

after an hour of running up and down the stairs, about half the pieces were sold and the place was completely packed. the smell of liquor wafted through the air, mixing with the loud conversations.

"hey rory" voilet called from across the crowd. she gently made her way through the sea of people muttering soft 'excuse me's to everyone. when she finally made it to violet she had a wicked smile on her face that made her suspiciously squint her eyes.

"what?" she asked apprehensively.

"nate has a friend here that he wants you to meet. voilets words were saturated with intent, but rory couldnt place it. she tugged on her arm, walking them across the room.

she could see the back of nate, standing and talking to someone. as he turned to face them she saw who she was talking to.

the man was taller than nathan, and more built. his stare was intense. shockingly blue eyes and a strong stubbled jaw. he had dark hair that fanned out around his head perfectly. he wore a flawlessly tailored suit, designer by the looks of it. she could see tattoos peaking out from under his sleeves onto his hands, gripping a hilariously small looking glass.

"sorry to pull you away from your fun, but this is my childhood best friend, matthew sturniolo" nate reached over, patting his friend on the back. "matt this is aroura jovans" he introduced her by her full name, keeping it formal for the time being.

matt stared cooly down at her, extending his hand. "nice to meet you aroura"

despite hating the sound of her full name, hearing it on matts tongue made her swoon. she had never seen a man so handsome in her entire life.

finding her head, rory reached out, placing her hand over his, the size difference was stark and it made his cock jump. "nice to meet you too Matthew" she replied looking up at him. "you can call me rory"

he had picked up on the colour of her cheeks when they touched. this bookish little sweetheart was the last thing he expected to find when nate invited him here. to say he was intrigued was an understatement.

now.

he continued his trail of kissed down her neck. her hands came up to tug on his hair, earning a hum from matt.

"stay here with me" he muttered as he sucked dark circles into her skin. she sighed and leaned her head back, giving him better access. she wanted to give in so bad, she wanted to let him have his way with her right now.

"i cant matt, i have things to do" her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she desperately tried to keep it together, but matts groping hands and his mouth were proving to be a real challenge.

"let me take care of you baby" and before she could even protest. he had hiked her up onto the kitchen counter and shoved his hand into her panties, his lip between his teeth, eyes watching her face intensely. his fingers traced up her folds making him let out a low groan as he left light circles on her clit, pulling a shaky whine from rorys mouth.

"look at that honey, youre soaked" she couldnt help but whine at his words. his fingers quickened and his touch became firmer, prompting her head to lull back as she gripped one hand on his shoulder and the other smacked down onto the counter behind her. her hips started rocking in rhythm with his hand. he knew just how to work her.

"it would be so mean of me to leave you like this doll" his voice was patronizing and cocky. matt once again brought his mouth to her neck and licked a stripe up her throat, pulling a lewd moan from her.

"dont stop matt ngh- pl-" and before she could even finish her sentence, he cut her off by yanking his hand away from her and plopping his fingers into his mouth.

she stared at him wide eyed, mouth hanging open and the feeling of her approaching high fizzling out.

matt gripped her hips and pulled her off the counter, standing her back on her own, now shaky legs before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out her keys. he placed them in her hand before pressing a firm kiss to her lips.

"have a great day baby ill see you for dinner" and with that he was off, sauntering back off into his office.

matt returning to a normal life once he met aroura never seemed like anything out of the ordinary, business was well, he was going to dinner parties, he had fake manners, all prepared for a complete disregard for his past life. he wondered if the straw would ever come and he would return to his late affairs, then again he wondered if that straw had already been pulled. he knew he couldnt hide from himself much longer. his biggest enemy was the man he saw in the mirror. he was filtered with anger and disgust for himself. each day, in and out, he knew what rory didnt. surely the truth would come out, it was just a matter of when. every time his phone rang and her face came up he was sure this was it, thinking of some excuse or lie he could tell before answering and of course each time he was wrong, after a few months of him fighting with himself he gave up. realising there was no way she would ever find out. but never say never.

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @freshlovehacker @urmyslxt @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattsd0ll @flowerxbunnie @itsjennarose @lovingsturniolo @mattslolita @chrisenthusiast

also if i forgot u from my taglist or u wanna be added lmk!!!!

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Hook x Tattoo Artist Reader●

Summary: Hook discovers your tattoo art on Instagram.

_________________________________________

*Tyler's POV*

Sitting in the locker room with Orange, Kris, Willow, Trent and Chuck, I am scrolling through Instagram when I come across this tattoo artist page that catches my eye. I click on the page and start scrolling through the pictures. Trent comes over and sits next to me looking at my phone.

"Woah dude. Who's art is that? That is amazing!"

"Oh its this chick named Y/N."

Willow and Kris gasp and run over to the couch next to me.

"Oh my gosh! Y/N is so talented!"

"Yeah she did my tattoos!"

"Mine too! You have to go to her!"

"And I think Tyler would really like her if you know what I mean."

Willow nudges my side and I roll my eyes. The girls have been trying to get me a girlfriend for a long time and it hasn't worked out. Kris pulls out her phone and starts typing on it.

"I have an idea!"

She starts calling someone on speakerphone. I look over at her confused.

"Hellooo lady!"

"Hi Y/N!"

My eyes go wide looking over at Kris. Willow laughs at me.

"Is my other bestie there too?"

"Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Willow!"

"Y/N, we were wondering if you possibly have an opening tonight or tomorrow for someone new?"

"Is it a man? Better not be like the last one you brought me."

"Yes it is a man. And no nothing like that last one."

They are start laughing and I shake my head no at Kris. Kris smiles at me than looks at her phone.

"So I actually had a cancellation tonight so why don't you bring this mystery man with you at 6?"

"It's a date! See you than!"

"Bye!"

She hangs up the phone than looks over at me.

"Looks like you got a tattoo appointment tonight. Better figure out what you are getting."

"Thanks Kris."

I roll my eyes and go back to looking through her drawings to see which one I am going to get now.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

I am currently sweeping up the floor in my tattoo shop when I hear the bells on the door jingle. I look up seeing Kris and Willow walk in with two men walking behind them.

"Kris! Willow!"

I set the broom down against the wall and walk over to them.

"Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good! How are you two?"

"Good! Good!"

"Awesome!"

I look over at the two men that came in with them.

"Who are these two?"

"Hi I'm Trent!"

He hugs me wrapping his arms around my head and I hug him back wrapping my arms around his waist. He pulls away keeping his arm around my neck.

"You are short."

I roll my eyes and push his arm off me walking up to Tyler.

"Hi. I'm Y/N."

"I'm Tyler."

"Oh, you are the one I am tattooing. Did you figure out what you want?"

I walk back to my section in the shop and he follows behind me as everyone else sits in the waiting area. He pulls out his phone and shows me the eyes that I posted on Instagram.

"Oh... you... you want one of my drawings?"

"Your drawings are incredible. I looked through all your pictures on Instagram. There is a couple of them that I wanna get."

"Thank you. I will go print out the stencil for you. Be back."

I grab my phone and walk over to my machine printing out different sizes. Kris and Willow walk up to me with big grins on their faces. I shake my head looking at them.

"Soooo whatcha think?"

Kris whispers to me and I look down blushing a little.

"He is cute."

I mumble still looking down at the floor and they laugh a little at me.

"And he said he went through all my drawings on Instagram and wants to get more later on."

"Oh he likes you already than."

Willow nudges my arm and I smile looking at her. I grab the stencils and look at them.

"Time for me to tattoo ladies."

"Go get your man."

I laugh walking back over to Tyler. I put the stencils on my little table infront of him.

"What size would you like?"

He looks through the sizes and picks out the middle size one. I take it from him and look at him.

"Okay. Next question. Where do you want it?"

He takes his hoodie off and I gulp seeing him not wearing a shirt underneath.

"I want it about here."

He points to below his neck on his back. I prep the area he wants than put the stencil on. I pull off the paper revealing the stencil on his back. I take a picture of it than walk infront him showing him the picture.

"How's that?"

"Looks amazing. Let's do it."

I get all my supplies ready and start tattooing him as he sits there playing on his phone.

_________________________________________

Finishing up the tattoo, I start wiping it down and cleaning it up.

"Mind if I take a picture?"

"Go ahead."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture. I walk infront of him and show him the picture.

"Wow! That's amazing! You did a great job! Thank you so much!"

"Of course!"

I giggle looking at him. He pulls money out of his pocket.

"How much do I owe you for it?"

"A date."

"What?"

"You owe me a date. With you."

He stares at me for a minute than smiles. I giggle at him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"It's a deal!"

He stands up, kisses my cheek than walks over to Trent and they leave. Kris and Willow come running over to me.

"What was that?"

"Details!"

"He asked me how much I owe him for the tattoo. And I said he owes me a date. With him."

"Ooooo yes girl!"

"I think you two will be really good for each other!"

God I hope so!

[sweetlummie]

Pretty Pink Bows

Mood board by me! In no way is the image supposed to depict reader, I just put the image to show how her bows were styled/are like

‧���˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Joel Miller x fem!plus size!reader

A/n: I’m back with another fic! This was inspired by me actually trying the bow look with ribbon I bought from Walmart- haha! Huge s/o to @romanarose for proofreading! Ilysm 💗💗 This fic was made with game!joel and show!joel in mind! As always constructive criticism is welcome! Enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 🫶🫶💗💗 (reupload to see if it shows on tags bc tumblr is fucking me hardcore rn.)

Warnings: implied age gap but it isn’t noticeable, blowjob, light bondage, unprotected piv, cream pie, if I missed anything please lmk

W/c: 1.1k+

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

When you went out for patrol, you had brought home a spool of reasonably clean pink ribbon and had waited til the next day to try them on. You got ready for the day and took the time to tie the cut long pieces of ribbon into your hair, hoping Joel would like them.. you hoped it didn’t make you look silly or like a pet, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror and you just looked so pretty! You couldn’t wait to show Joel. When you descended the stairs, Joel was already making breakfast. Quietly, you walked in and hugged him from behind making him chuckle.

“Mornin’ sweet girl…” he drawled out as he turned around to embrace you. As he did that, he got a good look at what you were wearing and my god, did you look so sweet and adorable. His mouth went slack and he felt himself grow hard in his jeans.

“Hey..” You whispered as you looked up at him, noting his reaction. You weren’t sure if it was good or bad.

“You okay?” You asked as you let go of him and stepped back.

“Oh baby, ya look so pretty…” he said as he approached, wrapping his arm around your thick waist. He leaned down and gave you a big kiss, the kiss growing more heated as the seconds passed.

Joel’s kiss was a fiery one, his tongue all the way inside your mouth and causing you to moan as you began sucking his tongue. After a while of making out, you both pull away, panting.

“Fuck sweet thing.. I need your pretty lips ‘round my cock. I need ‘ta watch ya suck my dick with those pretty little pink bows ya got on.” Joel said as he twirled his finger around a lock of your hair.

Nodding, you did as he asked and sank to your knees, palming his bulge.

“Fuck pretty girl.. don’ tease now..” He groaned as he clutched onto the back of your head by your hair, careful not to mess up your bows.

You took his throbbing cock out of his jeans and licked the tip. The taste was salty, but it was a taste you could never get tired of. You began to slowly take him into your mouth as you played with his balls.

Joel grunted as he slowly rocked his hips into your mouth, causing you to gag and tear up.

“Fuck me pretty girl.. look so gorgeous chokin’ on my dick..” he grinned wickedly as he held your head still, fist full of your hair as he began fucking your face.

You whined as he got rough with his touch, but the way he fucked your mouth made you so wet you had to squeeze your thick thighs together.

When his climax approached, he pulled out of mouth and came all over your face, making sure to get them in your bows.

He’s panting now, breathless from his release. “Fuckin’ work of art… now go upstairs ‘n get ready f’me. I have plans for ya baby..” when Joel gave you the order you were bolting up the stairs, licking up some of the cum off with excitement. You got rid of your clothes except your panties and pink tank top you had on that matched your bows.

When Joel got upstairs to your shared bedroom he eyed the spool of ribbon on the dresser. With a smirk he grabbed it and cut off a long piece of the ribbon with the jackknife he kept in his pocket at all times. You watched confused but you trusted him.

With the very long piece of ribbon he walked over to the bed. “Put ya hands together baby..” you brought your hands forward and put them together like he instructed. You were his good girl, and always did as he said.

He tied your hands together in a similar fashion as the bows in your hair, making sure they weren’t too tight, and roughly spread your legs open, ripping your panties down your dripping wet thighs.

“You’re such a lil’ tease ya know that? With your pretty lil’ bows, lookin’ so cute and tasty... ya look even tastier with my cum on your pretty lil’ face.” He got on the bed and brought your thighs to rest on his shoulders.

“Gonna eat this pretty lil’ pussy and fuck ya brains out.” All you could do was nod your head as Joel spread you open and began to lick your wet cunt.

Moaning, you squeezed Joel’s head with your pillowy thighs as he ate you out like a man starved. He fucked your hole with tongue as he brought his thumb to toy with your clit.

It took Joel little time to get hard again. He may be old but seeing you like this- so innocent and cute- got him so aroused. He looked up to see you trembling, with your eyes closed, mewling as your hands strained against the ribbon. You came shakily, squishing his head a bit harder with your thighs. He lapped up your juices before he pulled away.

He looked down at his hard cock and stroked himself. “Such a good baby… look at ya, a mess for my cock.. a mess f’me..” he teased, by this point you needed his fat cock to rock your world some more.

You whined “Joel please…” making him chuckle.

“Ight pretty girl.. I hear ya..”

He lined himself up and slowly thrusted into your entrance making you both moan out before he grabbed your plush hips and began thrusting in and out roughly causing you to cry out. With your eyes closed, you’re reduced to a whimpering mess as Joel does what he pleases with your cunt.

He moved his hand to palm your tit as continued to fuck you. “God baby. So good. So fuckin’ good.” He continued to have his way with you till eventually erupted in your pussy. He came with an animalistic grunt and you with a loud moan. After a few seconds of catching your breath, he slowly pulled out and watched how his cum leaked out of your used hole.

Joel moved his thumb to push his cum back in your pussy and when he pulled it out he brought it to your lips. You quickly licked the mixture of his cum and your juices off of his thumb and he watched with such a tenderness in his gaze it made your heart swell.

He whispers in your ear, breath hot against you. “Ya look so pretty with ya bows on baby.. ya should wear ‘em more often..”

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

[chuuyascumsock]

Hot Cocket || Minors DNI

I just realized I never posted my Dazai fucking a hot pocket fic on here. If the Ao3 babes had to suffer, y’all do too LMAO.

Summary: Ah, yes, welcome to the bullshit that I call “art”. Today’s episode: Dazai fucks a Hot Pocket. Don’t ask me what gave me this idea, my friend came up with it so thank him for this utter monstrosity. I suppose I’ll take the smallest bit of credit for wanting to write a crackfic of Dazai sticking his dick in something he shouldn’t— because it’s called having a sense of humor.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Hot Pocket, I talk about how dazai would definitely be a ham and cheese hot pocket kind of a guy, I make kind of weird metaphorical jokes, If Asagiri gets to blow children up then I can throw them into traffic, descriptions of fucking a hot pocket, descriptions of burning the dick (because he’s fucking a HOT pocket), um… creampie in a hot pocket..?, oh— and then Fyodor eats the hot cum pocket lol.

Dazai had been feeling particularly lonely on a Saturday night.

Without any women around to woo with his unhinged rizz, Dazai sought after a cheap comfort food he often turned to in his crippling depressive times. The freezer flings open with a creak to reveal the godly image of a box of hot pockets. As expected— nothing else resided in the freezer other than said hot pockets because Dazai was as broke as a medical college student in debt.

Dazai reaches a bandaged hand inside before grasping the box and pulling it close to his chest. He could already feel saliva pooling in his mouth as he re-lived his previous encounters and tastes of his hot pockets. But this one was different. This one was pepperoni. Normally, Dazai was a ham and cheese kind of guy, but they had been barren of any ham and cheese hot pockets. It made him sad to think about, but it also brought rejoice as he could finally try another flavor of hot pocket.

Dazai is quick to tear the box’s top off and reach a hand inside to grab the frozen snack pocket out. Even in a plastic wrapping, he could still smell the permeating waft of garlic and herbs. He fumbled around the kitchen as he ripped the plastic off and put the snack into the small cardboard pocket, basically throwing the hot pocket into the microwave like you would throw a small child into oncoming traffic.

Not really giving a fuck, Dazai punches the microwave which some how starts a two minute timer and the hot pocket starts spinning in small, grueling long circles. His eyes stare into the microwave’s glass window, taking in the way the hot pocket slowly warms up.

Deep down, Dazai wished to be a hot pocket. Because he, too, wished to be cooked in a microwave. What a way to go out.

It feels like eternity until the microwave beeps loudly to signify that the slutty— I mean tasty treat is done cooking. His eyes light up and Dazai takes the hot pocket out of the microwave. “It’s… It’s beautiful…” He whispers tearfully as the hot pocket steams from the packet. Realizing how hot it was the next few seconds after, he tosses it between his hands and onto the counter gently, “Ow— hot, hot— ahhhh.”

Staring at the hot pocket, Dazai begins to drool excessively— oh, and he was hard. Dude got a raging boner from looking at this hot pocket too long. Just like me fr.

“Aw man, now I’m super horny…” He whines as he looks down at his tightened slacks. He thinks for a moment before he looks back to the hot pocket and gets an idea.

The hot pocket steamed in need of his ACHING COCK (I can see you cringing behind that screen, Guac <3). Or at least that’s how Dazai took it because of how horny he was. “You want me, don’t you?” He grins at the hot pocket with desire— only getting a soft puff of steam in return and a whiff of garlic that made him twice as hard.

Eager to get off now, Dazai unzips his slacks and pushes them down enough to have access to the hot pocket. His accurate sized dick of three inches— I mean— his monster cock slapped against his stomach as he wasn’t wearing underwear because it’s canon that he goes commando. Dazai then took the hot pocket and brought it to his lips before taking a slow bite. And in typical Dazai fashion— he moaned loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear and got several noise complaints which all went to Kunikida’s answering machine.

“My god, you’re such a slutty tease,” Dazai groans, swallowing the cold ass bite that’s always at the end of the hot pocket. Pushing at the sides with his fingers, the hot pocket opens to reveal its gooey melted cheese and sloppy pizza sauce insides with the occasional chunks of pepperoni. Dazai stroked his cock until he had spread enough precum along his length, though it’s questionable as to why he would as he’s fucking a hot pocket pussy and not actual pussy because he gets none.

Wasting no more time, Dazai slid his dick into the scalding hot pocket and screamed from the pain of literal lava burning the skin of his dick. But he kept trekking through the feeling, because he’ll be damned having his dick blistered by some hot pizza sauce and melting mozzarella chunks ruin him from being horny enough to fuck a microwaveable snack. “Yeah, you like that you dirty, saucy whore?” He grunted, uncaring of the melted cheese and pizza sauce sticking to his now blistering cock.

As this poor hot pocket was being violated like no one’s business, Kunikida was sobbing himself to sleep after getting multiple detailed complaints about how loud Dazai was being while he was aggressively fucking a hot pocket like I did to your mom last night.

“I’m gonna turn you into a toaster strudel, baby,” Dazai moaned loudly, thrusting harder into the hot pocket before filling it to the brim with his cum. “That’s it, take my seed you cheesy whore…” He panted, pulling his dick out of the cum stuffed hot pocket. It took a few moments until he realized the damage that the hot pocket had done to his dick as he looked down to see the various red burn spots and blistering skin covered in pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. “Now I’m going to need bandages for my dick…” He sighed, tossing the hot pocket aside like they didn’t have a special bond. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore, my dick hurts… Time to stick it in some ice cream~” Dazai trailed off to get Kunikida’s credit card to go buy and defile yet another item of food.

As the hot pocket sat on the ground oozing with cum, a rat squeaked and scampered by before sniffing the hot pocket. Deemed worthy enough to take it back to its master, the rat dragged the hot pocket into a mouse hole and scrambled through the walls of the apartments until it made its way outside and into a manhole. Making its way through the sewers, the rat finally arrives at its master.

“What is this?” A Russian accent echoes through the sewers. Slender hands pick up the rat and the hot pocket, Fyodor looking at both with a questionable gaze. The rat squeaks to communicate with the Russian joker and squirms out of his grasp to scatter off to its family.

“A toaster strudel, you say? I’ve never seen such a thing, incredible…” Fyodor doesn’t even bother to take a good look at the hot pocket to see the fluids dripping out of it before he takes a large bite and chews. His face scrunches up— but he keeps eating because man is anemic and refuses to eat anymore of his belly button lint to survive.

“What a strange tasting toaster strudel…”

[st4rwon]

stars and raindrops

20. be my girlfriend?

looking at the stars, the only thing seungmin could think about was you, that’s why he loved them so much. the regret of breaking up had filled your hearts, so when you run into each other after a year what happens?

wc: 1k

seungmin was outside your dorm building, he sent you a quick text letting you know he arrived. a wide smile broke out onto his face as he saw you walking towards him.

“hey” he said in a small voice, he couldn’t believe he finally had you all to himself. you were so perfect, every little thing, from the way you wore your hair to the light blush covering your face.

“hi minnie” you smiled. god, was your smile always this cute? “what’s in your hands?” you asked peeking behind seungmin

“oh- oh yeah.” he suddenly remembered the bouquet of flowers in his hands, he woke up extra early just to go get them from the florist, and made sure to get your favorite flowers. he brings them into your sight and you gasp from the beauty. they were such nice colors and were lovely flowers, but knowing that seungmin had remembered all the details of the colors you like and your favorite things made your heart beat quicken. “thank you so much! i love them”

“i’m glad you do. now let’s get going, shall we?” you nod in response, and seungmin takes your hand and opens the door to his car for you to sit, “really going all out hm?” you tease

“want the best for my girl” he said, making you pause for a second. ‘his girl?’ you wanted to start skipping for joy right in that moment, but little did you know about seungmin’s other plans for this date.

you were honestly a bit surprised that the cafe was your first destination. the place was so pretty, honestly you didn’t want to leave.

“so minnie, why’d you take me here?”

“i remember you having quite a sweet tooth, and the pastries here are really nice”

you heart fluttered hearing seungmin’s words, honestly you didn’t expect him to remember such small things about you.

you settled on getting a chocolate croissant and a strawberry cupcake, while seungmin got a chocolate danish with a plain croissant. you were both seated outside, the weather was a bit warm, but the breeze compensated for it.

“you look really nice right now” seungmin smiled

“thank you minnie! honestly this whole atmosphere is just so perfect. wish i could just freeze time” you said, looking around to take the whole moment in

“if you love what we’re doing now, i’m sure you’ll enjoy the rest of the day as well”

you were intrigued by seungmin’s words and were excited to see what would come next

at this point you were doubting yourself a bit, was seungmin really going to ask you to be his girlfriend today? going to an art store wasn’t really you’re idea of romantic, but maybe you would do something with the supplies.

“ynie find some paint colors you like…oh yeah! and some beads!”

you were confused with his instructions, but just went for it.

you stared at the various paint colors and selected your favorite colors. as you approached the table with beads, your eyes widened. there was such a big collection and so many different types, colors, and sizes. you walked around grabbing one’s you thought were cute. you also got some in seungmin’s favorite colors.

while you were grabbing your items, seungmin was getting some canvases and paint brushes. you both met up at the checkout line after.

“seungmin…what does this have to do with what we’re doing today?”

“i can’t tell you, then it’ll spoil the surprise!”

“cmon just a hint please?”

“it has something to do with us”

“that’s barely a hint!”

“too bad, it’s what you get”

you had been sat in the car waiting for seungmin to do something. he had taken all the supplies you brought outside to the park, leaving you alone in the car until he came back. you were so happy with seungmin, him doing all this work for you made your heart want to explode. he truly was your soulmate.

after a couple minutes, seungmin opened the car door letting you out. he took your hand, “i really hope you like this.”

“i’m sure i will, you never let me down”

seungmin’s cheeks flushed, and he continued to walk you to “your area” in the park.

as you walked, you looked over and saw a small picnic blanket layer down with two canvases set up and a basket.

“woah!! it’s so pretty!” you said, looking around at ever detail

“good, i put in a lot of effort for you. now sit down, let’s paint something”

you and seungmin had finished painting and put your supplies away, you were waiting for seungmin to come back from the car. when he came you noticed how tense and nervous he looks, his eyes darting everywhere but at your own.

“minnie, you okay?” you questioned walking over to him

“y-yeah, shit i’m stuttering…” he mumbled “can we…talk?”

“course! you know you can always say what’s on your mind”

seungmin sat down with you on the blanket, putting your hands in his. “yn you make me so unbelievably happy, just your presence calms me down. i’m so grateful to have you back, i know we’ve had our struggles, but i know we can work things through now.”

“i’m proud of us minnie, proud of where we’ve come. you make me a better person, and i don’t wanna ever let you go again”

“well that’s perfect. yn, will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes!”

seungmin immediately wrapped his arms around you, his scent engulfing you. “thank you so much honey”

“no need to thank me, i’m just as grateful”

you looked up at seungmin, his eyes meeting yours. both of you gravitated to each other, “can i?” seungmin whispered. “please”

so he kissed you, feeling his lips on yours brought back a sense of comfort that you missed so much. you felt so safe right now, being my seungmin’s side, that’s when you knew, seungmin was your home.

you pulled away from the kiss, eyes watering a bit. “ynie…are you okay? don’t cry”

“sorry i just missed this, i missed us” you said, as he held you tight

“hey don’t apologize, i missed you just as much. but we’re together now, nothing to cry about anymore.” he said wiping you tears. “now let’s relax and watch the sunset okay?”

“y’know there’s one thing i missed the most…”

“what’s that?”

“stargazing with you” you said staring up at the sky, lost in your thoughts

seungmin moves you head to make your eyes meet his again, “then we’ll do just that.”

< prev | masterlist | next >

and the series has officially ended! honestly it was really fun writing this and i’m so grateful for all the support from everyone <3 tysm for sticking along even though i had THE WORST posting schedule TT

taglist: @ohish @leebitsimpracha @smally97 @broken-cookie @syuuji @ameliesaysshoo @amethyistheart @minkkumaz @minhaurloml @realstraykidsfan @stvrfir3 @puppy-minnie @ana-stasssiaaa @tfshouldidohere @jiisungllvr @hika-hika-hikaru @toplinehyunjin @sweetrabbit

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please don’t spam like posts, repost, translate, or use my work without my permission. all work is fictional and only used for entertainment purposes. © azurez 2023

[luxios-chaotic-fucking-pokemon]

Hey there trainers! I’m Luxio! Yes, I know I’m named after the Pokémon, don’t even say it.

I was a big Pokémon trainer as a kid—although you can probably guess since I have an Eternatus on my team. I wouldn’t say I’m old now, I mean, I’m 22—but the whole “gotta catch ‘em all” thing has kinda slowed down for me.

Now I own a Pokémon Café! Maybe stop by sometime? And if you see a Pokémon you like there, you can adopt it! Aside from the Café, though, I do art as a sort of side-gig. What can I say, it’s fun!

Now, you might’ve noticed Spook doesn’t look like most gengar would. That’s because he’s an albino gengar! They’re very rare in the wild, but there’s always a chance you’ll find one! Albino gengar are notorious for their unique fur patterns, which are invisible on regular and shiny gengar. Spook is also a mini Pokémon! So he’s fun sized!

Oh, and don’t mind Creampuff, they’re a sweetheart! In fact, they wouldn’t hurt a Pidgey! They actually have the more timid personality, so they’re usually a lot more scared of you than you are of it. Creampuff definitely has separation anxiety as well, which I’ve been trying to work on.

(Under the cut is some OOC stuff)

Here’s Luxio’s and Spook’s reference sheets!

And also Luxio’s motorcycle

And I’ll give some information about the other Pokémon (that aren’t Creampuff and Spook): Momma was found mourning the loss of her deceased baby, which had apparently been killed by either a careless trainer or… well, not a nice person. Luxio soothed her and brought her home, introducing her to Nico.

Nico had previously been found in the café’s dumpster, trying to find anything edible. That’s when one of the employees caught him and brought him to Luxio, who took him in.

Momma, after being introduced to Nico, immediately decided to adopt him and take him as her own. Nico was, quite frankly, ecstatic to have an adopted mother. This improved both of their mental healths significantly.

Spaghetti-o’s was found in a dark cave, and Luxio promptly caught it. It’s very fond of alphabet soup and anything that’s shaped like its own kind. It’s very sensitive to light and usually prefers to stay within its Pokéball unless the environment is nice and dark, damp, and cool.

Grilled Cheese The Third (or Cheese, for short) has been with Luxio since she started out. Luxio had thought the name was funny when Cheese was just a little Houndour. Cheese, despite being older now, is still just as energetic as she was when she was a puppy. She also really likes instigating and bothering the less-social Pokémon. Cheese has also tried to eat a few Joltik, but that didn’t end well in her favor (she got zapped, lmfao).

Now, here’s some info about the owner of this account!

My main blog is @autistic-gay-men-kissing and my art blog is @gothys-art-n-stuff. I’m also on ArtFight 👀

I go by he/him, I’m genderfluid, pansexual, and polyamorous (basically the same as Luxio LMFAO). I’m also a Hellenic Pagan, so there’s a fun fact for you <3 hope you guys like this blog and my OC’s story!!

tagging @realpokemon

Also, EVERYTHING IS ON!! Yippee!!

and for those on ArtFight, here’s Luxio!! Spook is on there too

hey I also do comms

[fourseasonsfigs]

Take a Sip by the Lake

This fig set was inspired by a behind-the-scenes video from the filming of Word of Honor's Episode 6.

We have a playful Gong Jun here making Zhehan laugh during the rehearsal for the poison sucking scene:

I laughed when I first saw this set! The exaggerated facial features are so silly and fun.

The seller originally designed the figs and planned to sell it with the rock they're sitting on:

However, when it came down to it in production, the seller cancelled the rock due to cost and told all the buyers to just make it ourselves out of ultra light clay. This plan didn't sound great to me, just given my lack of time and ability, but you get what you get.

Sure enough, these two figs arrived with no rock at all.

These arrived...and sat. For a long time! I've had these hanging out in my tray of "needs serious help" figs for, well, quite some time. This weekend, though, I decided it was time to start tackling that tray, and this seemed like the easiest one to start with. How difficult could a rock be? Famous last words, I know.

I downloaded a coupon for one of my local craft stores and headed out. Michaels had quite the array of Sculpey and Fimo clay packets. I ended up buying "grey granite" Sculpey clay, since I liked the idea of not having to paint the rock.

I probably spent 20-30 minutes putting a rock together - I made it too small at first, and then realized pretty quickly that not only did I need to make it bigger, but I needed a higher area in the back for Gong Jun to rest his hand on. I started gently arranging the figs on the rock as I worked, so that I'd have indents in the clay to go off on as I modeled.

Here's the finished rock. You can see the indents there for A-Xu's robe to slot into.

Gosh, I was happy with it when I finished it, but in the harsh light of my camera I have to admit it doesn't look as good as I thought it did.

Here's the top view. Looks a little better there, right?

I baked the rock for about 40 minutes. I'm not entirely sure if that was enough, but it seemed to be pretty well cooked.

Happily, all the little marks the figs made when I pressed them into the clay made them very easy to assemble on the rock. A little bit of glue, and they sat pretty solidly.

Not looking too bad, actually!

Oh no, I take it all back. I worked so hard at getting Gong Jun's hand to rest right on the rock...what happened??? I must have glued him a little bit too far up on the rock. Ugh.

UGH. It really is not resting on the rock! The crazy thing is, when I look at it just in my hand, it really looks like it's resting right on top.

I'd say it shrank during baking, but it didn't. I think this is just some poor eyesight. Well, you can see how I did design it to be a perfect resting place.

All I can see is the hand not touching the rock, but I will say the modeling the fig maker did on their hair is really nice. This whole set is really quite cute, if a little ridiculous! Which I'm enjoying, of course.

Here's a close up of the drugman bite.

This is a very small set - all the figs I have in this style run fairly small. You can see the size compared to a "regular" fig in most common style.

This clay actually has the faintest sparkle to it, just like actual granite. It's really hard to photograph it - I brought it out in the sunlight to try to capture it, but all you can see is some light spots that look like dust. It's actually quite subtle and pretty though.

I took some bottoms-up pics before I glued them to the rock. You can see their boots and pants quite well from this angle.

With how difficult a rock was to make, I can't even imagine modeling these. It's all computer driven I imagine, but still.

...not sure why I cut off the bottom of this pic when photographing! My goodness.

Well, at least from one angle I'm glad to see the hand looks firmly on the rock!

The fig maker included box card art and an even more exaggerated rendition of the art on a pin? Mirror? I can't recall now, it's been so long. You'll notice the fig maker even included the little kissy lips that were on the video as well.

Well, I get a good chuckle out of this fig set - Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan had so much fun on set, and it's nice to see how lighthearted and happy this is!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: (+2) 531

Scene Count: 38

Rating: Mwah! 💋

[link to the Master Post Index]

[massivetittiesandwarcrimes]

With the holiday season approaching I thought I would put out this quick gifting PSA:

Do not, under ANY* circumstances, give any of the women, mothers, or wives in your family appliances, household goods, or things for the family/kids.

It is rude, dismissive, and sexist.

Gifts for birthdays and holidays are supposed to be about the person receiving them: giving a woman one of the above gifts sends the message, intentional or otherwise, that you do not view them as a person beyond whatever role they have in the family (homemaker/wife/mother).

Objectively, this also applies to any man, fathers, or husbands, but honestly I have never seen that happen to them.

I've seen plenty of wives and mothers be given new can openers or toys for their kids, but I've never seen a husband or dad be gifted a diaper bag or toaster.

Additionally, if you are going to buy makeup or beauty supplies of any kind for the women in your lives, for the Love of All that is Good and Holy (and to save you time, effort, and stress) bring the item with you**. The lipstick she likes? Bring the one she has with you. Her favorite shampoo? Take a picture or bring the empty bottle with you; don't worry about looking weird for carrying around trash or half open items from home, employees see it all the time. Trust me.

(*The only exception is if she looks you Directly in the eye and Explicitly says 'I would like [specific appliance/child care item] for the holiday i.e. playpen or new washer)

(**it's just like going to the hardware store: if you need a specific size screw, fixture, filter, or whatever, it is so SO much easier to bring the item you're replacing or need with you. It means you don't have to try to remember or describe to a helpful employee what you need.)

Oh! And one final note before I leave you: if you have any artist or crafters or hobbyists in your life (knitting, crochet, embroidery, beadwork, painting, woodworking, etc) do not just buy them something related to their hobby. Unless it is someone very new to the hobby who is just learning the ropes, I guarantee they have specific brands or tools or such that they use or need or want. And because many arts, crafts, and hobby things can be a bit pricey, it is safer and more efficient all around to either ask them very specifically about anything they want or need, take them with you, or simply get them a gift card to the store they prefer.

[brought to you by someone who has both A) Bought my mother some very nice and interesting yarn which she has never used because I only got her one skain and B) been gifted art supplies that I do not know how to use (pastels), already have plenty of (beading thread), and are completely wrong/useless for my needs (random selection of embroidery floss that is very pretty, but nothing I need for the current projects I have). Yes it is very nice that you are trying to do something for the artistic person in your life, and they will appreciate it because it is a gift and thoughtful, but if you want them to actually get use out of their gift, you're going to have to be a bit more strategic.]

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

|•♡•♡{Welcome pick your man!}♡•♡•|

|•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡{Number 18}♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•|

Good Omen's

{♡} ask

- Rip to season 3 you were put on pause.

Another party?

{♡} ask

- I wonder if that cute stranger will come?

Protective hand

{♡} personal

- Silly hc my dad does this actually

Tattoo time!

{♡} requested

- Blurb of Seth comforting Scout who is getting a tattoo and being brought as emotional support

Jar opener

{♡} personal

- bc I love him so strong <33

You deserve this

{♡} personal

- He does deserve this and more.

Incorrect Quotes:

Wasn't suppose to be around this long

What's better than one yandere? Two!

{♡} requested

- HC's of Yandere x Yandere dynamic w Orchid and Withered! Finn

Age regressing Sunflower

{♡} requested

- hc's of Finn with a reader who uses little space/acts more childish to cope when sad. ngl think Finn might be the best caregiver for this type of reader

Fucking whore. God I love it.

{♡} requested

- Story of NSFW Withered! Finn, sadly doing brat things didn't work out...

Incorrect Quotes:

give it to a man

How did you get here?

{♡} requested

- Congrats your parent's now to a child of light.

I took it to my penthouse and then I freaked it

{♡} requested

- All it said bottom Auron, so Story but i basically pick.

Glitter pens with fluff balls

{♡} ask

- Silly idea from mootie

Incorrect Quotes:

grill me a cheese

Full of love

{♡} requested

- HC's with Lucien comforting plus size Angel

What a lovely tail

{♡} requested

- Short story of Angel playing with Lucien's tail

Oh my big baby!

{♡} requested

- Story of Lucien being a child for a day and Angel gushes over him.

No mames wey.

{♡} requested

- Hispanic Angel fic! Where Lucien eat's their candy </3

A demon named Angel, how ironic

{♡} requested

- Blurb and hc's of reverse au of human Lucien and demon Angel

Let's have a slumber party, like a fat kid on a pack of Smarties!

{♡} requested

- Jack and listener have a sleepover!

Tiktok video

{♡} personal

- He's so silly goofy

Like a cat in heat

{♡} requested

- Nsfw hc's w a neko listener (enjoy war flashbacks)

My muses, who fully my pages and books with their beauty.

{♡} requested

- Short story of Bittersweet boys with a artist reader who's shy showing off their sketches of them.

Maybe one wouldn't hurt....

{♡} requested

- HC's with Auron, Alphonse, and Charlie with their listener asking for a baby. (this is bc I posted about a dream I had once I think??)

Whole lot of lovin'

{♡} requested

- HC's of Lucien, Finn, and Jack with a chubby reader

Bro these bad habits got hands.

{♡} requested

- HC's Seth Faust Charlie with a listener/reader who relapsed with smoking cigarettes.

Please, please dont leave....

{♡} requested

- hcs of listener having a dream where their boy died. With Alphonse, Charlie and Auron.

Honey, your sexy with or without glasses

{♡} requested

- Sugarboo hates their glasses but it's giving office siren

Fucking gnomes. It's always gnomes.

{♡} requested

- Gravity falls Au, I see Seth as Dipper and Alphonse + Boo as Mabel

Let me tell you something!

{♡} requested

- Short story of the bittersweet boys hyping up Sugarboo who's going out in a sluttier outfit.

Awe, what a cute cat.

{♡} requested

- SFW hc's of the bittersweet boys with a neko Sugarboo

Sir, continue and I'll get you pregnant.

{♡} requested

- HC's of listener threatening to put a baby in Seth, Auron, and Finn

YV x lgts

{♡} ask

- More about the au my mootie made!!

Party like the 80's

{♡} ask

- song by 6arelyhuman, aseria, and kets4eki but the bittersweet trio as the cover art

Who would want kids?

{♡} ask

- Mootie asking for my opinion

Michael's owns Boo's check

{♡} ask

- Rip Boo, it's Ross for me bc their clothing is so fucking cute

OBJECTION!!

{♡} ask

- Rip Faust he's gonna get jumped

Guilty Gear

{♡} ask

- Ngl kinda fuck w this I kinda wanna play the game or watch the series it has

The Dilf meeting

{♡} ask

- What if Dilf! Al and Seth meet younger them?

Traumatized by cupcakes hd and smile hd

{♡} ask

- Crazy how I was introduced to gore by mlp

YV college AU

{♡} ask

- Au from my moot!

Auron or Alphonse?

{♡} ask

- Moot asks me who I think is better (Sorry Al, Auron is in my head)

Bittersweet trio in costumes

{♡} ask

- moot asks me what they'd dress up as and I told how there was a asks making them a pirate and merperson trio

Bosscandy or black licorice

{♡} ask

- Auron x Alphonse and how I think it'd work

OMORI au

{♡} ask

- Au from my moot!

Who'd say Beetlejuice

{♡} ask

- I was asked of my opinion

Beetle juice

{♡} ask

- Sugarboo saying Beetlejuice to the boys

New nail set

{♡} personal

- cute duck nails <33

Twitter PT54 PT55

Incorrect Quotes:

....fuck

[kaz11283]

Of Fire and Ice : Intro

After getting into too much trouble at home your parents decide that the best thing is for you to spend some time with your uncle helping the Avengers. What your parents don't understand is that it's not your fault that when you get upset things tend to catch in fire.

Announcement: I have been wanting to try to do a Loki series for a little bit but I faded out, this is the intro to it, building up, seeing what type of response that I might get, and seeing how everyone feels.

Pairing: loki x reader (eventually) Uncle Tony X reader(platonic, Zio) Aunt Pepper x reader (platonic, Zia) Avenger x reader (platonic)

"So, kid, last chance before your parents have to send you off to some boot camp?" Tony asked sitting across from you in his state of the art kitchen. You had always loved being able to run away to your uncle's place but after he had helped create the Avengers and every other responsibility that came with that you hadn't seen him in a few years give or take.

"It's not like I can help what happens, I get pissed or stressed out and boom, fire everywhere. Of course you tell that to my overly conservative mom and dad and they think that I'm lying. I mean for God sakes, I'm 25 and they won't let me move out because I'm single and I'm still going to school." You sighed propping your head in your hand playing with the food that he had given you when you had arrived.

"Your mom didn't seem too happy about letting you come visit." He responded leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Because you 'live in sin'. Women in and out all the time, men and women living together, it's absolute blasphemy." You laughed. "It was Dad's idea to let me come here, he explained that even though you're a partier you still have your affaires in order and that Shield has you running a tight ship. You could only imagine how excited I was when she actually agreed."

"I haven't seen you since you were like 12, when they explained what was going on I couldn't let them send you off." He smiled.

"Yeah, well, I only have about 2 and a half months to get whatever is wrong with me in control before I go home." You sighed standing up and pushing your chair in. "I'm gonna go ahead and turn in since I have an early morning tomorrow."

"No you don't, I told your parents that I would have you working just so that they would actually send you here. Get some rest you spent your whole day today traveling, tomorrow sleep in a little and then I'm going to introduce you to the team." He stood up walking over to you and gently kissed you on the head. "Your room is on the top floor, last door on the left. You share the floor with the Asgurdians but they are hardly ever here so you have the whole floor to yourself." You smiled as you turned toward the elevator to head up to your room. "Oh, and Y/n, after you get up and move around a little just meet me in the lab and we'll go from there."

"Sounds good, 'night Zio." Yawning one last time before the elevator doors closed.

You hadn't realized until now how absolutely exhausted you were from traveling until now, when the elevator dropped you off at the top floor you shuffled to the room that would be yours for the time being and pushed the door open. As you walked in your jaw dropped, breath taking views of the city spread around you from two floor to ceiling glass walls in the living area that had a small kitchenette, small breakfast nook, and at the center a large sectional facing a huge TV. Your few bags that you had brought were sitting on the floor next to the couch. You walked further in noticing a small half bath and another door to your right, walking in you discovered that was the bed room with another floor to ceiling glass wall and a king size bed with what looked to be the most comfortable blankets known to man kind.

"He really goes all out." You mumbled to yourself walking into another larger bathroom that had a garden tube next to a walk in shower. You went back into the living room to gather your thing for the night deciding to unpack first thing in the morning and found a note on the glass table that was placed in front of the couch.

I know this is only temporary but I want you to make this feel like home, whatever you want to get for you or your room you are more than welcome to get, just let me know and I'll make that happen for you. PS: coffee is in the cabinet next to the refrigerator and I am hoping that I got your favorite creamer. Love always, your Zio.

Your heart swelled, your uncle, who you had not seen in years, had made you feel more at home and more comfortable than anyone had in your entire life. Your parents had always judged you on what decisions you made, tried to keep you under their ever watchful eye, and never believed anything you said because 'the Stark blood runs strong.' with you. No one has ever taken a moment to ever listen to what you wanted or what you felt, but being here made you feel heard already and you already dreaded going home in just a few short months.

After washing your face and changing into a sleep shirt you climbed into bed and passed out instantly.

[taiyaki-translations]

Autumn Cafeteria - Prologue 1

Season: Autumn Characters: Shu, Tsumugi Translator: taiyaki-translations Proofreader: raspberrytls

Shu: —You there, waiter, may I get another cup of coffee?

(Whew… It’s nice to sit back and read every once in a while.)

(The library at Starmony Dorms isn’t terrible, but it sometimes gets so noisy that I find it difficult to relax.)

(With classical music gently playing in the background, this makes for a blissful experience, indeed.)

Tsumugi: Oh? Is that you, Shu-kun?

Shu: …If it isn’t Aoba.

Tsumugi: Sorry for suddenly calling out to you. Were you taking a nap?

Shu: No. I was simply closing my eyes and enjoying the music.

Tsumugi: Ahh. I’m familiar with this piano piece. It has a nice, melancholy feeling to it, doesn’t it~

Shu: This isn’t the place for you to stand around and talk, Aoba. Why don’t you take a seat for now?

Tsumugi: You’re right. Since this is a rare opportunity, is it okay if I sit with you?

Shu: …Personally, I’d much rather you didn’t.

However, being spoken to from a distance is even more unpleasant. Do as you like.

Tsumugi: Thank you very much. …Ah, the waiter brought you more coffee.

May I order something too? I’ll have the same coffee, and five loaves of round bread to go, please.

Shu: Five? Do you like them that much?

Tsumugi: No, I’m giving them away. (1) The round bread here is well received no matter what kind of function I bring them to.

The dough is soft and chewy, and the sweetness comes out the more you bite into it, so you don’t need to add anything to it.

Shu: Oh? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’ve been here several times but never paid it much mind.

Tsumugi: Really? Then please, give it a try ♪

Wai~ter, please bring him some round bread. You can put it on my tab—

Shu: There’s no need. Since I’ll be the one eating it, I’ll pay for it myself.

Tsumugi: Is that so? And here I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to…

Shu: Good opportunity for what?

Tsumugi: Ah, no, it’s nothing.

What kind of book are you reading? It’s paper-back-sized, so is it some kind of novel?

Shu: It’s a recently published book containing commentaries on Shakespeare’s works. It seems to be popular amongst literary scholars for its interesting interpretations, so I was curious to see what it was like.

Tsumugi: Oh, so Shu-kun reads books like that too~ But doesn’t it interfere with your artistic vision?

Shu: It depends on the content. The internet is a place where people can make vulgar posts that have as much value as stones on the side of a road. But books like this depict the sort of high quality views I wish to absorb.

They say art is an explosion, but an explosion requires a catalyst—the accumulation of one’s studies and the skills one has honed.

By combining them, they take on form. Ideally, one could create something out of nothingness. But alas, I am not some kind of god, after all.

Tsumugi: ……♪

Shu: …What’s with that face? It’s disturbing.

Tsumugi: Fufu. Normally you’re so distant with me, Shu-kun, that I’m just glad to have your company ♪ It’s been a while since I’ve been able to talk about trivial things like this with you~

Shu: I beg your pardon? Trivial? …Listen here, Aoba. I was in a good mood today, so I allowed you to sit with me.

But you are a spiteful traitor. I advise you not to try and get too familiar with me.

Tsumugi: How cold~ Even though we’re friends?

Shu: Non, do not get the wrong idea.

Tsumugi: Ah, the round bread’s arrived~ Here you go, please try it.

Shu: I’d rather you not rush me. Hm, so it’s served with fig jam?

Tsumugi: Why don’t you try it without the jam first?

Shu: I was just about to do that. Stop talking for a moment.

Munch munch…

…Oh? The buttery aroma is quite nice.

The sweetness of the sugar is also just right. This flavor would go well with any dish.

Tsumugi: Fufu, I’m glad to hear you say so ♪

Actually, I was looking forward to your reaction. You love croissants, so I figured you would like this too.

But I was surprised to hear you’ve never had it. Do you not eat any bread other than croissants?

Shu: It just never crossed my mind to try it. I actually happened upon this place while I was looking for stores that sold croissants.

While I didn’t find what I was looking for, I liked the atmosphere. I’ve been coming back ever since.

It’s a hidden gem that’s empty even on weekends or holidays. It’s the ideal place for when you are looking for some peace and quiet.

Tsumugi: I know what you mean. Just looking out the window with a cup of coffee is a nice change of pace.

So it's such a shame that this café is going to be closing~

Translation Notes: 1. Tsumugi is bringing the bread as 差し入れ (shashiire), refreshments you'd bring to work or activities as a way to encourage people or help them recharge after working.

Directory | Next

[feverinfeveroutfic]

Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day xxviii.: “amorsolo”

pairing: lars ulrich x oc

prompt: intimate artistry

word count: 3257

song: “sweet painted lady” by elton john

There was a whole slew of museums in the heart of Carson City, one of which was all about old art from when Kit Carson and the expedition rolled around the region. Every so often, I would go in there and look at the Native American art in particular, from the turquoise and the tribal paintings, to the beadwork and the pottery. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I lived in a place filled with such history and also such torment, especially when I remembered that I had another date with him. I had no idea if I was even going to see him again as he hadn’t called me again in about a week.

When I strode about the corridors of the museum across the street from the Golden Nugget, I thought about calling him. He had given me his address right before we had left Virginia City and I put it next to his number, but I had my doubts, however. I knew for a fact that he would like to see me again, but I had no idea as to what he and I could do together. I knew he wouldn’t be in the mood to be back at my place for very long, or maybe it was just my own insecurities about it: every so often, I would overthink these things.

But when I looked at the basket weaving before me, as it resided behind the big pane of protective glass, at the intricate patterns on the sides of the wicker, I thought about how complex this whole thing could be, and yet there was great beauty in complexity. He and I were both ecosystems of our own, much like how the crosses and thunderbirds on the sides of wicker baskets the size of watermelons introduced me to whole other worlds themselves. I then brought my attention to the turquoise lined with the silver frippery, the pieces of centuries-old jewelry that made me want to take a hold of him and bring him to the museum for another date together.

I kept going on my tour of the museum, and I bore in mind that the tickets were only six dollars apiece. We could totally do it together come Friday, or whenever he so wished. I made my way back home, through the thin lines of traffic, and I thought about what I was going to say to him. There was also a part of me that wanted to write him a letter, to write my guts out onto the paper in the finest ink I had and then seal the envelope with a kiss.

I hung out at the next stoplight about a block before Heidi’s, and I thought about writing him a letter. I thought about telling him how much hanging out with him was absolute bliss. There was a big part of me that wanted to give him the same feeling that he had given me up in Virginia City. I never wanted him to stop thinking about me, either, and I never wanted to stop thinking about him, either.

The light turned green and I made my way up the street, back to my humble home on the northern edge of town.

I stepped in through my front door, whereby I noticed the light blinking on my answering machine. I set down my things and ambled over there, and I pressed the button.

One new message.

“Hey, you, it’s me—I’ve been thinking about you lately and… I want to do something with you again. That is, if you’d like to. Give me a call and we’ll talk about it later.” That light accent was going to coax a smile out of me always. I picked up the phone and dialed his number. I sat back down on the couch and crossed my legs as if I was a girl in high school ready to indulge in some juicy conversation with my best friend.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi.” I couldn’t resist smiling at the sound of his voice even though he couldn’t see me doing it. “It’s me. I just walked in through the door. I was thinking about you today.”

“Oh, you bet I was thinking about you,” he assured me. “I was just sitting on my couch with my legs wide open and my hand down my shorts thinking about you.”

“Oh, my, really?”

“You know it, min kærlighed,” he told me with a slight chuckle.

“What did you call me?”

“Min kærlighed. It means ‘my love’ in Danish.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” I confessed to him, and I rested a hand upon my chest. “In Portuguese, it’s meu amor.”

“I like that better,” he confessed, and I could hear him struggling with something on his end. I knew just what he was doing right then, and I was going to egg him on for it.

“Oh, really? Well, would you like it if…” I cleared my throat. “I… ‘scuse me. Beijo cada centímetro do seu corpo e brinco com o seu cabelo como se estivesse a brincar com massa.”

“Oh, my,” he breathed out. “No idea what you just said but I absolutely love it. Holy wow.”

I chuckled at that and I pressed my hand to my hip.

“What are you wearing right now?” I asked him.

“Right now? A pair of fitted shorts. Nothing but those. I have my hand down them right now, too. I wish you were here so you could see just how big you’re making me.”

“Well, let me take you up on your offer,” I coaxed him along. “What say… you and I have a little time together down at one of Carson City’s finest art museums? That is, if you are down for art at all.”

“You came to the right man!” he declared. “I love me some good art. I actually have a copy of a Basquiat at my place right now.”

“Oh, wow.” I brought my hand to my chest again. “I want to see that.”

“I think we can arrange that,” he assured me, and he chuckled at that.

“Yeah, let’s arrange that. But first, let’s go to the museum here. Let’s wet our whistles and get ourselves in the mood. When should we go in?”

“What day do you have in mind?” He sounded as though he was out of breath, which told me that he was about to climax.

“Maybe… Friday?”

“I would love to do it on Friday,” he gasped out, and he let out a low whistle at the feeling inside of him. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. That weekend was going to be quite fun, I knew that much.

*

When that morning hour came about, I ran a brush through my hair and then followed it up with my fingers entrenched in water that smelled of freshly trimmed lilacs. I decided to wear my black blouse with a low neckline and matching fitted trousers that fit onto my legs and my hips as if they were made for me.

He rolled up on the back of his motorcycle with his helmet awaiting me on the back part of the seat right behind him: the desert sunlight made the word “Rokke” glitter and sparkle as if he had rolled in from the Silver Legacy up in Reno. I strode on out into the warm morning with my purse slung over my shoulder. I kept the side of my purse close to my body as I put on my helmet and my sunglasses.

“You might want to hold that thing on your lap,” he advised me, and he revved up the bike. I moved the purse onto my lap, nestled in between my stomach and his back.

“Let’s roll,” I commanded him right into his ear. He gave it some gas and we both lifted our feet from the ground. It helped that we both wore all black, and we both had on those helmets and accompanying mirrored sunglasses. Even in the middle of the morning, I imagined us as a couple of artists making our way through the heart of Paris in the middle of the night. We were going to the swankiest, ritziest art gallery in town and no one was going to stop us for a second.

We zipped through traffic, all the way down to the museum that I had told him about before then, and we took the spot in the shade of the main tall building.

He and I climbed off one after the other, and we walked on up to the front door with our helmets tucked under our arms. Luckily for us, the front lobby had a place where we could stash our helmets and he could hang up his leather jacket on one of those silvery hooks.

We paid the twelve dollars, and then we made our way into the museum.

“I should ask, do you do any art yourself?” he asked me with a little smile on his round face.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied, and I hunched up my shoulders as if to act all coy with him.

“We should have more and more art days together,” he suggested as we passed by a big mural of Kit Carson, as well as a memorial dedicated to the Donner Party, the latter of which was complete with a pair of full plaques and a glimpse into the group’s lives before the storm hit them hard enough to warrant the devouring,

“More art days in which we consume hearts and lungs,” I told him, and he giggled at that, a light little giggle that reminded me of a young boy hearing something cheeky.

“Hearts to show to each other, lungs to breathe our lives into each other,” he quipped, and I raised my eyebrows at that.

We walked along the corridor, and he stopped and examined the exhibit about the Washoe tribe and the wars they experienced right before the Civil War, with his eyes filled with wonder.

“Absolutely compelling,” he remarked in a hushed voice. “We don’t really have these sorts of things back in Copenhagen.”

“Hey, you guys have castles dating back centuries,” I pointed out. “That’s pretty compelling in my eyes.”

He hooded his eyes and showed me a playful little smile.

How I wished to know what he was thinking. How I wished to know what he was thinking, especially as we inched on over to the Civil War era behind the glass.

“Risen from the ashes of pools of blood of brothers,” he declared. “We paint with blood.”

“Paint and write our names in it as well,” I followed up. He looked on past me to behold the plaque which explained how Nevada became a state on Halloween during the war.

“Oh, how appropriate!” he declared. “We paint and write our names in blood before the ghouls come out to play.”

“It’s rumored that the art museum next door is haunted by the ghosts of Civil War generals,” I told him. “In fact, most of the houses and places in this particular part of town are haunted, and have been haunted since about that time.”

“Imagine us having a moment alone in the presence of ghosts,” he suggested, and he ran his fingers through his fine hair and down onto his neck. I knew what he was thinking, especially when we were alone in that particular wing of the museum.

“Find ourselves a haunted painting and then have the filthiest love making you had ever imagined in your life,” I decreed, and he brought a hand up to his little cherry lips.

“Yeah, well, on the way down, I was thinking about posing for you,” he admitted to me.

“Posing? Like for live drawing?”

“Exactly,” he said. “I mean, think about it. You and I, we’re both art people. We should indulge in it together. We should indulge and have lots of fun in it.” We reached the door there at the end of the corridor, which in turn appeared to be the western side of the museum, which in turn led out to an alleyway. On the side opposite from us was a wall that looked like a canvas speckled in all shades of gray and blue paint à la Jackson Pollock; when we surfaced out there, I looked to my right and noticed a small stack of canvases as well as some palettes, paints, and brushes, the latter of which looked brand new.

“A part of me wants to do this right here,” I offered to him. “I mean, the supplies are right here after all. There’s no one else here, either.”

He showed me a little grin, and then he turned his attention to the speckled wall before us.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” I pointed out. “It’s possible that you could get sunburned.”

“Not necessarily,” he assured me with a wag of his finger. He backed up towards the edge of the shadow cast down by the awning; he remained out of sight from the doorway as well as the security camera on the inside of the door. I turned my attention to the canvases and the paints.

If nothing else, I could do an abstract painting of him, especially when he had that speckled background right behind him. But then I realized what we could do here, especially with no one around and as we retreated into the camera’s blind spot. In fact, he had all but read my mind at that.

“Shall I?” he offered me, and he unbuttoned his shirt just enough to show me his bare chest and the top part of his shoulders.

“Please,” I coaxed him with a gesture towards him. I showed him a seductive little smile, and I could feel the rush of blood flowing through me.

I erected a canvas on the rickety easel that lay down on the ground before me, and then I picked out the paints and an accompanying palette. I looked on at him as he stayed there in the edge of the shadow. A fence separated the alleyway from the street, but the alleyway stretched off to the right and snaked back around to the parking lot as well as Rokke. In other words, we could do this and then sneak out of there if we so wished. But we needed our helmets and we had only been there for twenty minutes as well.

“Drop your pants for me,” I beckoned him.

With a little lick of his cherry lips and a sway of his hips, he unbuttoned his pants. Slowly, he let them drop down his legs to his ankles. He ran his fingers through his hair, and he held his hand over the back of his head for a moment. I watched him and the way that the light danced about the shape and contours of his body; he then released his hand and let his hair spread over the side of his brow. The way it moved over the crown of his head made me think of waves.

I picked out a broad brush to lay down the basic shape of his body. I figured a nice tender blue would do the trick, and more so when he inched out to the edge of the shadow and into the sunlight. His eyes lightened up and his hair seemed to shine and shimmer as if it was made entirely of gold. Blue at the bottom with gold for the accents and brown and orange to balance the entire thing out.

He held still for me with one hand at the back of his head, his head tilted back to show me the inside of his throat, his hair tousled all around his shoulders like a soft mane, his shirt opened up to show me the entirety of his body, and his pants fallen away to show me everything. The sun kissed the crown of his head, just enough to give his hair a bit of a glow, as if it was in fact made of pure gold. There we were in our little island, away from the world, tucked away behind the museum, and I moved about on the canvas as fast as I could, even with a little bit of rinse water in the jar. I at least had his body down with the blue and gold; by the time I reached the warmer tones, the sun had moved and he brought his free hand down to his thighs.

“That’s good,” I said as I picked up the palette knife. “That’s good, that’s good…” I scraped at the paint to give his thighs and his dick an extra nuance with the paint already laid down on the canvas. I reached his lower legs and his feet when he finally shook his head about and ducked out of the sunlight. He scurried up behind me and looked on at the canvas, at the scratchy quick painting of himself. He leaned in closer of me and kissed me on the side of my face. I glanced down at his bare legs and the way that his dick was out there in the open. He was so close to me, and we were so close to getting caught, and when the reality set in, I could feel my heart racing.

“Let’s leave this here for the ghosts to relish in,” I suggested.

“Portrait of a Danish man in the American West,” he declared with a wave of his hand before his face. He then turned to me, still with his shirt wide open and his hair cast down over his shoulder like that of a waterfall. The museum next door was going to be in for quite the surprise once we dropped off that painting in question. Whether or not they took the donation was the question for the ages, but I knew for a fact that the spirits that haunted the place were going to have their eye on it for an eternity.

The question was trying to get the painting there without anyone catching us.

He put his pants and his shoes back on, and he buttoned his shirt back up, and I held out a hand to him.

The painting leaned up against the bricks to dry, and I knew that it could be done. I whispered it into his ear before we returned to the corridor of the museum, and he giggled at that.

The rest of the tour through the museum took a whole hour, and at that point, we were both eager to fetch a cup of tea and some food, and he was eager to take me back to his place to show me the Basquiat. But before we could head on over to Rokke, I coaxed him back down the alleyway to fetch the painting. But once we reached the same spot as before, I noticed something strange. He caught up with me, and he gasped and brought his hands to his mouth.

“The painting is gone,” I told him, and he gaped at me.

“Where did it go?” he asked me, and I shook my head. I looked over to the fence, and I remembered the other museum was next door. Civil War soldiers still feeling away from home—

“Let’s go,” he suggested.

“Yeah, good idea,” I quipped, and he interlocked his fingers with mine as we ducked out of there and back to his bike.