#which is stil tall

[jmliebert]

♡ when Aemond has a crush on you ♡ (modern) headcanons

he hides it well; Aemond is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At first, it's hard to tell he has a crush on you because he is cold and seems indifferent. he observes, weights his options

he keeps his distance at first; both emotionally and physically. his behaviour might even make you think he hates you, though it's quite the opposite of course, he just have problems with showing his feelings :((

but (!) his piercing gaze always finds you. his eye follows you discreetly, hungry and restless

when he's near you, his body language is a mix of nervousness and inner pride. he wants to please you which is a weird feeling for Aemond, so his fingers may fidget a little, but still; he stands tall

he quickly learns your daily routine and starts showing up in places you frequent. these "coincidental" meetings are his way of staying close without being too obvious (in his head at lest)

you quickly learn he uses a lot of sarcasm, but you learn to enjoy this side of his, actually he's quite funny

if you ask him for a favour, he might act like it's a bother, but he always does it, despite his outward coldness

sooo.... as you can see he's a little lost, unsure, but(!) this one time when his brother Aegon makes crude, inappropriate joke about you, Aemond's anger flares and that's when he truly realises his feelings for you may run deeper than he'd like to admit

Aemond tries to be more straight-forward at this point. he assist you whenever he can, subtly offering help here and there, giving you this little smirks of his

he often asks you random questions about your life (often very specific), wanting to know everything about you and it's quite endearing that he's so focused on you

stil he respects your space! or at least tries to. he doesn't want to intimidate you or make you uncomfortable with his presence (most of the time), even though being near you all the time is what he would prefer

he spent many sleepless nights analysing your conversations and overall every aspect of you

long walks; during those you talk about trivial things and deeper subjects like psychology, philosophy, or your favourite books and movies. Aemond is silently enjoying when you put your hand on his arm during those walks. these moments are when he feels most connected to you, when he melts more and more...

because finding someone attractive is one thing, but finding someone attractive and genuinely interesting is a whole new level and at this point Aemond is charmed, really charmed

encouraged by this connection growing between you, Aemond asks you out. and let me tell you- he's SERVING! like he arrives at your home to pick you up, greets you with a gentle kiss on the hand and a soft smile, the kind that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach

and he smells so gooooood!!!!! I just know it

at dinner he pulls out your chair, ensuring you're comfortable before taking his own seat. throughout the meal, he’s attentive and considerate, paying for dinner without hesitation (duhh)

his eye contact is intense, making it clear he finds you captivating

about the first kisss.... at first it's gentle and tentative, almost like he's testing the waters. he would begin by leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours lightly, his hand cupping your jaw. he would look deep into your eyes, waiting for silent approval and when he gets it, he smiles and you smile too

as the kiss deepens, you’d feel the intensity building. the touch of his lips would become firmer, his body pressing you closer as he wraps his arms around you. his grip might grow more insistent, almost aggressive, as he pulls you in tight, the kiss becoming more passionate and intense. there's a raw edge to it, as if he's letting go of the restraint he's been holding onto, revealing the fire and desire that’s been simmering just beneath the surface

when you gasp softly against his lips, Aemond is losing control. his hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you even closer, your lips crash and then he suddenly halts. moving back just enough to regain some composure. he's breathing heavily, trying to steady himself, his eye fixed on you with a mix of desire and restraint

"We should probably slow down, but I really don't want to."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

[thewritersaddictions]

Bases: Negan Smith- Chapter 1 Her

Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader

Pov: Negan

Warnings: boundaries push, touching, cocky comments, the walking dead, zombies, trigger warnings, almost dying, special treatment, the wives, jealousy, being saved; Simon mentioned a little bit, maybe Dwight too, and Negans wives. masturbation,

Summary: Negan meets you when you come to the sanctuary doors. Wary of you at first he takes to watching you, and boy does he get interested quickly.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.2k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Wanderers Master List // Series Master List

Y/n tries to catch her breath, but she just can’t seem to. Everything around her is swaying with her every step. She feels the sun pour through the sky, and it just ends up beating her up as she walks in the middle of the road. Trees line each side, giving no shade for her overheating body. She walks until she hears the indicators of the walkers; the sound grows louder the more she wanders due North. She worries for a moment until she sees a tall building that probably used to be a factory before the world went to shit. Then the sound of cars, the sounds of people. 

People! She doesn’t care if she doesn’t have enough energy to get to the gates; she’ll push through the hoarse voice from no water for at least the past few nights and days. She’ll push until someone picks her up from the searing hot cement underneath her. She manages to make it to the gate; her face is flush, and she ends up waving down what looks like a post guard. “Do you know where you are, Miss?” It’s a guy no older or younger than she is before Y/n can answer though she’s collapsing to the ground. She’s worn herself out before just making it. 

There’s a knock at the door, which means some shit is happening that Simon or some other fucknut doesn’t know how to handle. The knock on the door is different, rushed, almost a worried knock. “Come in.” I don’t look up until the person starts to talk; like always, it’s Simon. “Boss, um, we’ve got a problem.” My brow arches as I stare at Simon with a deathly glare. “A problem?” It’s not really a question, and Simon knows it. He just nods, and we walk in steadfast with each other. Lucille sits over my left shoulder. People quickly advert their stare as we step outside in the blaring heat of the Georgia sun. 

There’s a small, growing crowd around something rather intriguing. “Move outta the way, dingbats,” Simon shouts rather loudly in my ear as I look into the center of the growing crowd. “What’s this?” I ask one of the guards. His gun is slung around his back, the nose of the sniper pointing towards the ground. “I’m not sure, Duke over there said this girl waved and then collapsed outside the gates.” More intrigue. “Let me see.” The crowd moves, giving me a perfect view of the ‘girl’ lying on the hot ground. “You,” I say, pointing with the bat's end cap. The guy, ‘Duke’ visible, swallows, “She um… she was running towards the gate, and tried to wave at me, but before she could answer any of my questions, she just knocked out, hit the ground pretty hard too, Sir.” The guy says. I move Lucille making room for me to bend to my knees and get a more impersonal look at the ‘girl’ layin’ on the ground. 

Her skin is red and peeling in some places on her face and shoulders. Her hair is out of her face. Her face looks almost hollow like she hadn’t had water in days, maybe weeks. But she’s wearing what looks like an excellent proper pair of boots and jeans, and the first thing I think of next is, “Did ja check for bites?” I ask the whole crowd, and the Duke guy answers again. “Already checked her out, nothing, no bites or anything, Sir.” He says; I motion for Simon to come over, “Why was this so fuckin’ important, huh Simon?” he glides a hand through his messy hair. “Cause I figured you want to say what happened to the girl.” Simon never really gave a shit, didn’t take orders to well, and somehow always managed to not fuck up but still fuck up my shit. 

“Yeah, dumbass take her to the damn doc. What the hell you waiting on me to say that for.” I mutter to myself as I watch the two post guards pick her body up stiffly. Causing the both of them to alost tumble over. I roll my eyes at the action. “Simon.” I shove the bats handle into his hand. “You tow lacklys, get back to work i’ve got her.” The inner monologue tells me that I know it will always be me who has to take care of the dark shit, the bad shit, and the good shit. Nobody else. Simon close behind me, as the women lay limp in my arms. 

She had yet to open her eyes as the cool air inside the sanctuary hit her cheeks, her arms, and any other exposed skin. She didn’t even rustle as I walked her limp body through the doorway. “Dr. Carson, you can stop whatever the fuck you’re doin’ now. Help this women here.” I set her down on the cot, her head falling back along with her hair into the shitty pillow provided in this makeshift ER. “What… What happened?” Dr. Carson wasn’t the village idiot by any means, but it would nice if for once I didn’t have to tell the damn idiot what happened and he could just go do his fucking job. “Carson, just do your fuckin’ job or I swear to the god that probably fucked off already I will make your postion available again.” He shook his head, and got to work. Simon handed Lucille back to me, as I took a seat in those uncomfortable waiting chairs. 

“Looks like she has some burns some serious” Carson said looking over at me. An arch brow, and he was on the way to solving the whole damn thing, “Nothing a little bit of antibotic cream can’t fix. She’s also very dehydrated, so I’ll need to get her pumped with some fuilds before she can… before she’s well enough to talk with you Sir.” Carson mumbled out, I nodded my head and started to turn out of the room. “You said she needs fluids.” Carson nods his head, as he goes to get bandages wraps for her burns. “Bring her to my room, we should show our new guest the best care, right Carson?” He nodded with angst. 

“Are you sure… Sir, do you think that’s the best course of action. We don’t even know where this fuckin’ lady is from” Simon as his ratty, trash talkin’ fucking mouth never shut the hell up sometimes. I turned quickly catching his normal leaned back attitude off guard. “I think you would know me by now Simon. It’s a game, it’s always a fuckin’ game.” Simon stood still for a moment, and then nodded. 

An hour later there was a knock on my bedroom door. “It’s Dr. Carson with the Jane Doe.” He said through the door. I rolled my eyes, the clink of the gin bottle hitting the glass table rang my ears as I got up opening the door. This time two much larger guard held the Jane Doe on a cot. Less prone for her fall and get even more hurt. “You said you wanted her here sir?” Carson asked as if the first time I said wasn’t good enough for him. I look over at the Jane Doe. Her shoulder all the way down to her arms are covered in the white bandages. Her face isn’t though which is nice. “Come on in then.” I open the door wide enough for the large men to walk her in and place her on the couch adjacent of the bed. “I’ll get some fluids going in her and then I can come back in a few…” I cut him off, “No need doc, I’ve got it from that point. Don’t need someone in and out of my fuckin’ room every couple of hours.” He nods his head vigorously. I know what I’m doing, and there’s more I wanna know about this mystery Jane Doe. 

“Well hello there sweetheart.” The women in front of me is opening her eyes. It took nearly two days to get to this point. For nearly two days I have extra patrol out making sure that nobody followed this young women here. No need to be gettin’ ambushed right now. Her eyes go wide and when she opens her mouth to talk nothing comes out. Her nails scrap at her throat. “You need something to drink?” I’m quick to get up and gather a glass of water for her. Her hands are clammy when they graze past mine to collect the cold cup of water. The needle in her arms ache I can tell just from the look on her face. “We’ll take that out later, but for now why don’t you not rush your recovery.” I said as soft as I can. She looks like someone just told her that the world was starting all over again. 

She clears her throat, and for the first time I hear her voice. It’s angelic is a soft, fairy sort of way. “Where am I?” She ask looking around the room. “A settlement, the Sanctuary.” She looks over at me, beautiful eyes shining back at me. For the first time it’s odd to around a women who isn’t appalled by me, or faking it all together. She pure, and innocent in so many moldable ways. “I promise that i’ll be out of your hair before you even know that I was here.” She promises me, I humm. Then look over at her fluid drip, and the bandages on her body. “I was thinkin’ that you could stay here for a while. At least get yourself settled before you go back out in that hot Georgia sun. 

“So Miss Jane Doe, do you got a name?” I ask her as my words sink into her head. She clears her throat again taking another large gulp of water to coat her throat. “My name is um…Y/n.” She says with a little smile. “And you wer travelin’ alone out there?” I ask her, “Yeah.” She says nodding, she looks far of into the distance staring up at one of the ceiling tiles. As if she’s remembering someone she’s lost. I clear my own throat bringing her attention back to me. “I’ve ask that the doc, keep you here in my room. I wouldn’t suggest that you go out right now. Dr. Carson and I agree that you’re a little too fragile for that eveiormnet right now.” I said coaxing her into a choice she had no say in. She nodded, “My pack?” She asks, “I almost forgot.” I reach behind the coch she’s laying on. “Thanks.” She says with a small smile, and once more our hands graze each others. 

Hours later after a rather a surface level introduction with Y/n about where she came from, why she didn’t have anything other then a knife, and what the Sanctuary was about. There’s a soft knock on the door. It causes Y/n to shiver with anxiety. “It’s alright sweetheart, don’t worry about anyone trying to get ya.” “Can I come in, Negan?” I know that damn voice, Frankie. I boil over with anger and before I can get to the damn door Frankie is opening it. A sliky black dress drapped over her frame. I catch Y/n out of the corner of my eye; staring and watching the interaction between the two us. “Negan, I haven’t seen you in a few days…” Frankie stops short in her sentence. Scwoling at Y/n, as if she understands what the hell is going on either of them. “Frankie, go. I have a guest.” I say strongly grabbing her bicep and pushing her out of the room. 

The slam of door makes Y/n shriek, and when i turn to look at her she’s got her head cocked. “Who was that?” She asks timidly. “A… um… it’s just Frankie.” I finally manage to mumble out. “When was the last time you had a good bed to lay down in?” I ask in deperate need to change the subject. I don’t know just yet how to explain the wives to her, but then again when have I ever felt the need to explain myself to anyone. I push the feeling away, bury it in my stomach. Deep down. She shifts swinging her legs to the edge of the couch. She’s got pretty long legs even from the thick jean material that hid them. “I’d say at least since the first or second month of this shit.” I huff a laugh out, “Well how about this sweetheart. I’m gonna take this IV out, and patch you all up so you can get a good nights rest.” “But what about…” I shake my head. “I’ll take the couch, it’s been a while since I’ve booted to the couch anyways.” I jokingly say. 

Carson had left a few supplies here for me whenever Y/n was going to wke up so I could remove the IV, and bandage her up. As I do her skin is soft as least not where she’s been wrapped up with bandages. “So what was wrong with me?” She asks as she stares at my working hands. “You got a hell of a sunburn all up and down your shoulder and arms. Some antibiotic cream should fix ya up real quick.” I tell her, “And plus you were super fuckin’ dehydrated, what the hell were you doing running a fuckin’ marathon?” She giggles at my question as I tape down the gauze to make sure the blood doesn’t leak into anything. 

“Do you have extra clothes in that pack of yours?” I ask Y/n, she looks down and dig around. A minutes passes, and another, “Look mary poppins I don’t think there’s anything else the damn bag.” I might be getting a little frastrated, “So I’d take that as a no.” She nods her head. I whip myself around. Shifting through draws and a small closet of my clothes. “For tonight you can borrow somethin’ of mine. Sweats, and a long t-shirt so your bandages don’t come off during the night, Sweethearts.” I say passing her the clothes. Y/n stares down at them, and she get a little shy, well a lot shy. Bitting and pulling on her bottom lip. “Bathroom is over here sweetheart.” I watch as she walks towards the bathroom, and then the door shuts. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask myself. Dragging my hands down my face. There’s a shuffle from behind the bathroom door. “All good in there?” I ask, willing my voice not to break. I feel like a high school kid all over again with a stupid high school crush. “Um…” her voice sounds so tiny behind the door. “I don’t think this is gonna work.” She says shyly through the door. I stand to open the door, but she does before I can manage it. My long sleeve is loose on her frame, and the sweats don’t even take on her hips, but I guess that’s alright since the long sleeve is so big on her it acts as a dress. “That’s all good doll, how about I help ya get to bed.” I say reaching out my hand for her to grab. 

Yet again her hands are baby soft, like she’s never been outside a day in her life. No broken calluass, or rough patches. With our hand interlocked I walk her to the side of the bed. Moving the sheets back so she can easily get under the covers. She isn’t graceful about the plop down the bed. “A water bed!?” She asks, I actually laugh, “I wish sweetheart!” As Y/n shifts her legs to get under the covers and onto my side of the bed. I get a flash of her pink worn panties. 

I have to swallow down the groan of sexual frautration, maybe I should have taken Frankies offer. Pushed her outside the door, and fucked her stupid mouth shut. I shake my head, and I watch as Y/n starts to get snuggled into the cool fabric. I don’t grab the other pillow fromthe bed, I just make my way towards the couch. Cleaning up the medial mess I made earlier. I lean back into the coch, closing my eyes and all I can see is the pink panites. The coarse hair that prickled to come through the fabtic.

My cock stirs to life in my tights blue jeans. I can’t see Y/n’s face due to the dim lights in the room, but her snores are a good alert that’s she fast asleep. I close my eyes again and the flash of her nipples through the old shirt of mine makes me swallow down a moan. A hard on from a girl I know nothing about, a fuckin high school kid. All I can think of is the pink pussy that lays behind the pink panties, the tits that would bounces as I fucked her raw. I unzip my jeans, and pop my hard cock from my boxers. 

The tip is leaking pre-cum that I end up just using as lube. Pumping myself slowly at first until my eyes fall shut and all I can imagine is the sounds that Y/n would make when I fucked her up agaisnt the headboard. Or how good her pussy probably tasted. My cock is coated with my pre-cum, and so is my hand. The sounds are delicious, the sound of the squelching as the soft pad of my thumb over over the head of my cock and I end up just a pile of fuck, shits, and graons as I come all over my chest. 

“Fuck.” My breath is ragged, I haven’t come that since I was much younger and a whole lot ballsier. I throw my shirt off my shoulder and wipe down my tummy, and chest. Discarding the ruined shirt to a pile of other thrown clothes.

Completed on: 08/10/23

Posted on: 08/12/23

Bases Tags- @clararangel @lanad3lrey-l0v3r @jdmsgorl @scarlett-widows-89 @idk1idk2idk @kaits-diary @whatsssss @daryldixonluvr @oceanablue @chelseypprimrose @freedomfighterlex @sageworld @ayeizzshayla @123avengersandmarvel @charlie19690 @sweetvixensstuff @lanceisrandom @redscreendarkwin @finalgirlmp3 @fullwattpadmusictree @harmonib @rainyzonkmakerlover @ge0rgzs @julimariett @amazingmaeve @kpoplover4life @definitelynotyagmur @rivernell @vanilla88 @alteredgalaxy @thatonefroggirl @kyleepsposts @max-505 @nhayoshii

[suckitdeku]

Hisoillu Week(end)

Prompt (08/23): past (first encounter)

Hisoka (24yo) was bored. He needed a new playmate. Illumi Zoldyck (21yo) just fell into his trap.

TW: blood, homie-cide, probably a violent family, stalkering, sexual references, so on and so forth... but just slightly :) also some typos.

This came out by the headcanon that my dear @lumizold and I had about their meeting. We also roleplayed it and it was the time of my life istg. Guess who roled who. Actually pretty easy. Too easy maybe. But here I tried to wrote them both on my own, and he liked the result, so i guess this is... good! At the very least. So shoutout to him for helping me understand better this difficult and majestic character, illumi zoldyck. He's now the boy of my life. And if it wasn't for him, i couldn't have written this as canonic as it- should be? is? well it's just conjugetion, we don't really care.

Enjoy!

Illumi was in the airship, heading towards a spot in the Padokea region where he got an assignment. A very important assignment... which would have made lots of money, according his grandfather Zeno, who just congratuled him for the assignment received. Well, if the Zoldycks' bank account was happy, the Zoldycks would have been happy too. Right?

He didn't question about it, but he had to admit that the request was pretty weird. Asking to a family of assassins for protection wasn't impossible, nor improbable, but... unusual? definiterly the most unusual thing ever happened to him. His square mind couldn't can a so shapeless thought... it was worst than having an uncovered glass of water in your car while speeding... and drifting. Up a montain road. Through sharp bends. In short, the water spills everywhere and you can't keep it in the glass, where it should have been since the beginning... if there were salted pistachios in that glass, they wouldn't have flown all over. Like the water did. He hated water as a kitten does.

Sitting straight and perfectly still in his second class seat, he kept overthinking his job assignment.

He knew little to nothing about it. Nothing too useful, and that was the reason he was ruminating the best way to make things work in case something went wrong upon his arrival.

A wealthy mafia boss has been repeatedly harassed by a real weirdo, whose incredible strength frightened all of his guards (all the hundred persons designated on working on his safety were terrified by him). He followed him everywhere he went, he stopped him to talk and ask him very molest questions. There, he had obtained this description of him: he was a molest man, tall and muscular with "shoulders like this" (you would say it's an accurate description), with magenta hair pulled back that stayed like this as if under an enchantment, a strange clown make-up with a little star and a teardrop under each eye, odd clothes with card suits motif and ridiculous shoes (again, what an accurate description...), but his voice was mellifluous and hardly you could discern his gentleness and his way of fooling you. It was so stressful, dealing with him. And therefore he was easily recognizable.

Illumk kept looking outiside the window.

The mysterious, molest clown was, among other things, a violent. He threatened to kill him in exactly five days, and already got in a fight with his guards, snuck in his super-secured estate's garden... well, he was a public manace walking on well-functioning legs. Illumi already thought that making those legs useless could be a good idea... but the client commissioned the homicide before he could pull out a joke of his, and so be it. In faxt, his job made more sense this way. Protect the client... by killing an enemy. Yes. This way, now, even the water in the glass had become governable in that devious journey.

And he went back to staring out the window.

He just wanted to go back home and see how his little brother Killua was handling their father's care.

?!?

Illumi felt dumbfounded. He wasn't effectively shocked, but... he still was speechless, his big black eyes whose pupils couldn't stand out over their irides were drawn towards the silent estate in front of him.

Corpses.

Corpses, corpses, corpses.

Corpses everywhere in the garden. Were they planted there as decorations, in order to scare the most cowards or were they there to give troubles to the one who had hired them?

One of the floor lamp along the walkaway had been blown. Something was stuck in it, and had short out part of the electric system, and now it was slowly catching fire.

It was... a playing card.

So, he really was dealing with a clown.

As if he was terrified, in that catatonic state of his, Illumi started running through the corpses, jumping over the blood puddles on his way, without sparing a glance at the deads' abhorrent expressions.

He really felt a bit of dread.

If... he failed...

He would not receive his payment! Those two- really serious parents perfectly capable of taking absolutely rational and logic decisions didn't get paid up front. Once, he tried to advice them about that little, hazardous detail... but after receiving that slap from his father, he couldn't even remember what was so hazardous about getting paid when the job was finished. And now they risked receiving nothing.

And yet, Illumi was right on time... he got embarked like a robot on the first available transportation, with the confidence that the clown would have made his appearence in eighteen hours circa... instead, the clown arrived and made them all dead. Deads. Deads everywhere.

Deads everywhere in every hallway he passed through. Was that a finger, that one he was seeing hanging on the wall with a card? Oh, yeah, it really was a finger. A little finger. Certainly a little finger, because the severed hand five meters further ahead was missing a little finger.

Macabre and thorny details passed under his unperturbed glare to embed in his mind, as if pinning them with pins on an enormous board. It was the summary of all the things he should be reporting his dad, along with his ass in order to let him whip it to a pulp, probably.

He began to spy a room, the only one with an open door, the warm light escaping by slithering through the threshold.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere. A man hanging on the wall, and one crawling to the door to escape, were the ones who immediately caught his big eyes.

A mature man, around his 50s and bald, was being held by the throat by... a... a guy really tall, and big... with a giggle sweet as honey, kind of mellifluous, his pale, muscular arms with protruding veins stretched towards the adult. Something about his appearence seemed off, but he didn't pay that much attention.

He was toying with the man. Like a white kitten pawing maliciously at a tailless lizard, already mortally wounded by his claws and canines. The man almost didn't try to free himself, but he looked like he was waiting for a miracle, a small glimmer of salvation to get his paws off of him.

They were the only ones alive.

— Oh, I guess I have visitors~

His murmur wasn't directed to anyone buy the adult between his hands, who he hold tightly. His face was vermilion. He could already see, already imagine them, some ecchymosis in his eyes, the attempts to free himself getting irregular and limp, his strangled sounds disappearing...

He finally showed himself up, throwing one of his pins already infused with Nen against the clown.

He, just as an expert performer in the circus, looked like he was expecting the pin as if it was a circus act he and his most trustworthy partner tried a thousand times. He moved even before the pin was ready to be flung, and... that was a matter of instants.

He bend his knees, threw back his head and all of his body. His back was a perfect arch in that pose so uncomfortable and artistic altogether. His hair, apparently with nothing left to hold it up, were now slipping across his face with oh so perfect features.

He abruptly released his victim in order to stay in that position, and the man stumbled in place for a single moment.

And threw himself back onto the clown, taking a breath in the process.

He jolted. Illumi, inside his soul, did the same.

The pin ended up on his jugular, and the man kept a hand on his neck, dazed. From the way he staggered you could tell he was dizzy.

With a wince which made him lose his playful smirk, the clown crouched down, ready to spring into action. His hair was in plac- his hair was in place, when had he recombed them?

He was glaring at the pin, without worrying about Illumi two meters away from them. He glared it. And glared at the man, while he was taking the unusual weapon and removing it from his neck. It was disgust. Disgust for his stupidity.

The man tumbled with a thud. His vertigo more dizzy than before with every squirt of blood gushing out the wound, now more deadly than before.

— Everyone knows that wounds with the weapon still inside should not be touched.

Both him and the Zoldyck watched him pant with wide eyes. The realization about his screw-up had hit him hard, just like the thought he was dying. The unknown man, pulling out a playing card, wondered if the victim of that cruel fate was thinking of something in particular: a warm greeting to his liver or the burning desire to spit on his father's and his assassin's tomb. They observed his life slip away from his eyes.

— If the weapon is still inside, you still have the chance to save your life yourself.

A strangled sound.

His eyes glassy.

An embarassing silence. The Zoldyck was stuck and static. He wasn't swinging lightly on his own feet. He wasn't shifting his weight from a side to the other, and he wasn't looking away from the new cadaver, still warm. He looked nervous in his own way. He was extremely illegible.

— Don't tell me that the one whose life I just casually took away was the mafia boss who instructed me to kill you.

— No no~ — the stranger laughed, turning to face him. That Zoldyck was so ugly and ungroomed... black hair cutted in a bob, his athletic figure concealed by a banal track suit in unattractive colors or... generally not very colorful. And it was such a shame, because his doll-like eyes, his perfect and also symmetric features, summed up with those thin, pinky lips with an adorable shape were really attractive. — He was head of the guards.

— So where did you left the person I'm looking for?

— Right at your feet, asking for mercy~

Illumi lowered his gaze. There was the man he previously saw, ho looked like he was crawling for his dear life.

Illumi took a deep breath, staring at him without batting an eye. Literally. Not a movement. He didn't even looked mad. No throbbing vein on his neck. Nor sweat droplets.

The maniac tried to incite him.

— I got bored waiting for you~ I decided to kill time playing cat and mouse. Or mice~ obviously you can see they're city mice~ they didn't run away from me well enough... I had to kill 'em all to satisfy my bloodlus-

The Zoldyck turned around, and calmly started walking away.

The maniac stayed there, looking at the threshold, batting his lashes with surprise.

Was he dumb?

He jogged after him, as if nothing had happened.

!?!

— Weren't you going to kill me~?

— Stop moaning and lower your voice.

— Coomee ooon~ answer me~

— I haven't been paid.

— Yeah, no shit, you didn't finish your job yet if I'm still alive~

— He who hired me is dead. The contract is no longer valid. I'm going back home.

— To mommy and daddy, huh~?

— Yes. If I'm going back home I'm going back to them. Not to other people.

— And don't you want to entertain yourself with me, killing time together~?

— No. I don't have time.

— Yes you have, that guy's dead and no one can disturb us while we're getting to... know each other~

That maniac was sticling his hands out too much. Yep. Pretty molest. He slapped them away, and the man groaned in pleasure.

— No. I have to go back home and explain this trouble.

— So~? I took away your assignment, you should be mad, or scared of their reactions~

— I'm just pensive.

— What else~?

He developed him in his sticky embrace, whispering in his ear. He believed he was pushing him into talking about more interesting matters, with his own hands brushing and caressing his hips, because he felt shivers running on his skin.

— I feel like. Having a lollipop.

— Here, take it, babyboy.

The Zoldyck, amazed, turned to face him, still in his embrace, as if it was nothing. His eyes weren't surprised, but his arched brows definitely were. Now they were both still, one before the other, and were looking at each other. Then, his black eyes slowly drifted away from the stranger's pure gold irises to halt on his lightly stretched-out hand.

Between tapering fingers, tightly hold between long and sharp nails, there was a small lollipop.

He batted his lashes and took it. It was as thin as a card, under his fingertip, and... seemed a card, for real.

— Are you kidding me?

The lollipop, point of contention of the two hands, suddenly became a card. A jolly.

Too fun. He was being sarcastic.

The man smiled like a fox, his lips stretched and closed, eyes narrowed. — It's a trick~

Illumi squeezed his eyelids, unamused, and took some distance from him to look at his face. His make-up was odd, it was true. He just noticed it. It seemed like a make-up for clown, maybe because of the teardrop and the tiny star, but... clowns didn't paint their face that way. They were... so colourful and showy.

His gaze wenr back to normal, while the man kept staring at him. — You... are not the clown I was looking for, right?

The man lost his smile, and gazed at him. His eyes had lost their light. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself either. — I am a magician, little Zoldyck.

And he parted his lips in a "o", his brows lightly arched as if comprehensive. — So you're not who I'm looking for. — and he added under his breath that, in fact, the magician make-up wasn't included in the identikit, and that he was licky he recognized it. The man's frown deepened.

— I indeed am the one~ you silly~

— No, you're wrong. I'm looking for a clown. He looks exactly like you... but he paints his face like a clown.

— You dummy, I'm the one who persecuted your client~ I did it on purpose, in order to lure you here~

The Zoldyck parted again his thin lips in a "o" shape, and his eyebrows raised, too. Maybe he realized he was in a trap.

— But I was told to look for a clown... you're a magician, I noticed it.

— I am a magician, my name's Hisoka, — he spelled his introduction for the idiot. — As a matter of fact, however, I get mistaken for... a cheap clown.

— Clowns are not cheap. — said the young man. On second thought, he looked really young — They make you laugh, scared and kill people.

— Only in horror movies.

— My life is a horror movie.

Hisoka smiled a little hearing those words. — You're an enjoyable person, little Zoldyck~

— I'm not little. I'm the firstborn.

— But how~ how old are-

He got interrupted by an unpleasant noise. In the quiet of the night, to sweep away the blissful and relaxing sensation of the humid air brushing the naked skin, several sirens got closer to the location of the slaughter.

The Zoldyck started running to the woods. Hisoka, without missing a bit, followed right after.

— And here I thought you enjoyed attention, all eyes on you. — the Zolduck murmured, between a long stride and the other. — Back there, there are lots of eyes ready to watch you and lots of hands ready to catch you.

— But no one could do it like you~

That answer didn't break him down, instead he quickened his pase. Hisoka was stalking him.

— You still haven't ask me a single thing. — he said after one minute of jogging in the wood.

The Zoldyck didn't spare him a single look. — I don't care.

— But we're walking together~

— You're following me.

— Talk to me, coomee oonnn~

— I gotta go.

Hisoka grabbed him in his embrace, forcing the other to stop.

— What's your name~?

— I have no time. — was his crude response

He found himself pointing a pin against his throat, and his Adam's apple grazed it as it bobbed to swallow and moan.

But Hisoka craved for more. He crawled over his body as if he were dying. He didn't care about the pin, may the pain be welcomed, on the contrary. But he needed to be with him.

— I'm bored~ so bored~ I need... someone on my level to fight with~ I've set a trap for you to meet you, little Zoldyck.

So he had revealed his cards. I hoped to intrigue him. It had to intrigue him. He had to get it out of that head somehow. Maybe it would all end in a bloodbath.

But the Zoldyck just kept glaring at him. — I'm sorry. I can't stay here risking to het caught. If you know my surname, you also know my family and the rumors going around us.

Hisoka nodded, purring on him. He wasn't trying to leave his arms anymore. — No one know your names and your faces, so infamous in everywhere in Padokea~

— My father would not appreciate me ending up in jail. — he pointed out. — I don't know about you, but I don't want to get arrested.

Hisoka's face leaned over towards his. — When will I see you again, then~?

And the young man allowed himself to be deceived. He paid no attention to that touch, to those hungry looks, and only said a few words.

— Are you able to remember phone numbers?

A shiver run down his spine. A Zoldyck's phone number was the best he could hope for, obviously after a fuck/fight with one of them. — Ohh~ well, yes, yeah...

— I'm going to tell you. — he cutted short.

But Hisoka moaned, attaching himself on his body. Illumi felt with a growing embarrassment... something poking against his hips. — Oh no, just not right away~ if you write it on my arm... I'll show you a trick and no one will see your number~

The young man stayed still, looking at him. In silence. His eyes shone a bit. — A magic trick?

— I'm a magician for a reason~

He batted his lashes. — Arm. — he streched out his hand.

Hisoka vibrated with excitement, extending it to to him, nonchalantly. He still had his lips streched in that fox-like smirk of his. — How merciful of you~ you allow me to still stay close to you and give me such a cuddle~? I must seem to you to be on the verge of death and in need of one last wish~

The young Zoldyck took something out of his pocket. A small pin, so sharp, the top of it green. Slowly, looking at him in the eye, he started likinv it, his pink tongue leaving saliva at every lick.

Hisoka didn't know exactly what that little show he was witnessing was, but he knew that he didn't mind it at all. His throbbing member between his legs told him so. The warm pang in his stomach told him so. The eyes that became pools of liquid gold at the heavenly sight.

When it was all nice and moist, he dully took it away from his mouth.

— Are you going to write with that~?

— Yes. How are you going to hide the number?

— With my favorites Nen technique, of course~

He carried it lightly against his skin. He pressed the tip gently, and when he broke the skin a trickle of blood flowed calmly.

The night was torn from its quiet by the moans and cries of pleasure of a man, sweetly tortured by a very nice, unique and skilled assassin, who loved to dilate time under his expert touch to prick it with pins.

Hisoka couldn't remember ever feeling so excited.

When their paths separated, the young assassin had discovered that Bungee-gum has the properties of both rubber and gum, and Texture Surprise could be very useful in cases where the wounds needed to be hidden in some way, and Hisoka had discovered that the person with whom he had pleasantly spent minutes of total ecstasy was called Illumi Zoldyck, and that his telephone number was... divine when written in blood.

[banannabethchase]

Brew and Me - also on AO3

~

Claudio's finally gotten the opportunity to visit the small coffee shop he's been lusting after, and Wheeler tags along.

~

For @rosabellebelieve because she deserves smiles <3

~

Wheeler wakes up to his alarm blaring, blinking away the sleep. He slaps at the bedside table and answers without checking the name. “The fuck do you want?” he grumbles, shoving his face back into the pillow.

“Wake up, Wheeler,” Claudio says, sounding way too cheery. “I’m downstairs. Have been for a bit now, love. Come on.”

Wheeler groans and rolls over. Claudio’s side of the bed really is cool. “Why do you do this to me?” he sighs, sitting up. “Normal people sleep past,” he checks the clock, “eight in the morning on a Sunday, fuck.”

“You agreed to go on a coffee tasting,” Claudio says. “The appointment is at nine. You should be getting ready now.” Wheeler rolls his eyes and stands, going for the closet.

“You’re lucky I showered last night,” Wheeler mutters, getting dressed.

“Of course I am,” Claudio says, and he’s unfairly perky. “If you hadn’t, I would have woken you up when I woke up.”

“If you ever wake me up at five in the morning on the weekend, I will lock you out.” Wheeler can’t help but smile at Claudio’s excitement though. It’s an appointment at a small local coffee shop that Claudio’s been lusting after since a late night google search a few months back, and they finally got a Dynamite date in the area. They extended their stay a little, just to get the appointment.

“You would not,” Claudio replies. “Now come down to the lobby.”

Wheeler brushes his teeth and does his best to style his hair and beard, then makes his way downstairs.

Claudio looks cozy in a double breasted coat, a little warm for the weather but the effect is more than worth it.

“Hey,” Wheeler says, leaning down to kiss Claudio. “You already taste like coffee.”

“I had to have my morning brew.”

Wheeler rolls his eyes. “Come on. I have the keys.”

Claudio tries to grab him out of the way to drive, but Wheeler dives into the seat before Claudio can get there.

“I,” Wheeler says, grinning up at Claudio, “am driving.”

Claudio huffs, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you chauffeur me.”

“Let me,” Wheeler scoffs, starting the car as Claudio makes his way around. “You’re such a dick.”

Claudio slides into the car. “What about dick?”

“Buckle up.”

Wheeler may or may not disregard some speed limits as they make it to the coffee shop, and he’s convinced he’s taken a wrong turn as he pulls into the driveway of what looks like a sweet little New England Cape with blue shutters and a red door.

“Are we sure this is the place?” he asks, hand still on the wheel. “It feels…homey.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Claudio asks. “It’s correct. Look.” He points to a miniscule sign Wheeler can barely make out. Brewology with Steph.

“I still think it’s a stupid name,” Wheeler says, stepping out of the car. “What is Brewology? Who’s Steph?”

“Steph is a highly qualified, extremely experienced taster,” Claudio says, and he adjusts his coat in a way that makes Wheeler get a little hot. “We’re in good hands.”

As he steps out of the car, he resists the urge to suggest something else that could go in Claudio’s hands, and walks next to him to the shop.

“Ah!” a woman says as they walk up. Wheeler has to presume she’s Steph. “Welcome. The two of you must be my nine o’clock appointment.”

Claudio nods. “Yes, I am Claudio, and this is my partner, Wheeler Yuta.” He grins down and it flares warmth in Wheeler’s chest. “Glad to be here.”

“Welcome,” Steph says. Wheeler had expected someone pretentious and a little obsessed with themselves, maybe demanding attention and respect for their talent without proving they deserve it yet.

Instead, Steph is a tall, short haired woman who talks about coffee as casually as Wheeler can rattle off wrestling stats. She and Claudio connect immediately, which gives him the chance to scan the place and get an idea of what’s going on. It’s still got the typical bones of the design of a Cape, but each room provides a different coffee lover’s fantasy. Normal coffee makers, filters, espresso makers, and French presses line the walls of a large kitchen. There’s multiple rooms lined with jars of coffee beans. He’s not a fan of the taste of coffee, but the smell he finds to be an immediate comfort. He’s woken up dozens of times to that smell floating in from the kitchen where Claudio and his obscenely early wakeups brew a pot of his personal favorite, and this building echoes with the scent like it’s built into its foundation. He peers around as they enter a new room to see that each shelf is labeled with a style or location or region where the coffee was grown. Wheeler doesn’t know quite what the words mean, but he knows they’re important from the way Claudio gets excited about them.

The place feels homey in a way Wheeler hadn’t expected. But he likes it.

“Alright,” Steph says. “We’re here to taste, not to talk. Let’s get started.”

He’d expected a few brew options, maybe different spices or whatever to add like Starbucks has at their counter.

He didn’t expect to follow Claudio as he points to random jars that Steph takes down and hauls to the kitchen. Wheeler tastes so many coffees he thinks his brain hurts. He fakes using phrases that Claudio and Steph throw around like a new language.

“I sense a hint of chocolate.”

“The caramel on the back of that cup is delightful.”

He gets a weird look when he says, “Sorry, this one tastes like burning tires,” but Claudio takes another sip of the same cup and frowns.

“You have a point,” he concedes, and puts down the cup. “I think this one is less than a preference, Steph.”

“That’s the case for many tasters,” Steph says, moving the bag of beans away. “It’s a unique blend that most people don’t particularly enjoy.” She turns, smiling at Wheeler. “You have a sensitive tongue, Mr. Yuta.”

It takes everything in Wheeler’s body not to say something wildly inappropriate. “Can I try that chocolate cherry thing one again?” He asks. “I can still taste burning tires.”

Claudio slides him the coffee and Wheeler takes a sip. Now that he knows what a bad coffee tastes like, he supposes, he can appreciate one that tastes the way he wants.

Like a switch, he gets it. The next few he’s able to actually describe. Not as well as Claudio, of course, and nothing close to Steph, but they start to nod along when he describes brews as having a plum taste or reminding him of a woodfire.

“Now,” Steph says, once Wheeler’s buzzing with caffeine and has tasted something like 25 different kinds of coffee, “the conclusion of the tasting is for you two to choose your favorite blend.” She smiles at them. “You could choose a single brew, if it’s to your liking, or you can create your own blend of flavors and underlying tastes.”

“Not the burning tire,” Wheeler says. “Other than that, Claudio? It’s all you.”

Claudio nods, brow furrowing. “I take that challenge with pride.”

It’s a bit like watching a mad scientist, as Claudio puts together flavors and mutters to himself.

“He’s really into coffee,” Wheeler says. He’s not sure if he’s telling this to Steph as an explanation or an apology. “Like, really into coffee.”

“I can see that,” Steph says. She leans against the table and takes her own mug, the one that had been sitting on a back counter, and takes a sip. “You know what the weird thing is? I prefer my coffee with sugar and milk, but I do appreciate all the flavors, you know?” She takes another sip. “But it is much easier to discern the individual personalities of each coffee without any additional details.”

Wheeler nods, like he’s not the kind of person to chug a java chip Frappuccino and call it a day.

“Aha!” Claudio says, eyes triumphant after a sip. “This is it.” He holds the cup up to Wheeler’s lips. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

Wheeler sips. He can taste cocoa, a little cherry. Some hints of spice and wood smoke in the back of it.

The problem is he still doesn’t like it. At all.

“Yeah,” Wheeler says. “That’s – that’s my favorite out of all of them.” He smiles at Claudio.

“You still hate coffee, don’t you,” Claudio says, and at least it looks like he’s fighting a grin.

“Not on purpose!” Wheeler says. “It’s just – look, coffee’s mostly your thing, and I like…” He trails off. “Well, I like you.”

Steph makes a little squeak. “Sorry!” she says. “That was just really sweet.” Her smile turns into a bit of a grimace. “I’ve had couples where one partner doesn’t like coffee come in and they will be just miserable to their partners, you know?” She fades back into a smile. “It’s nice to see the opposite.”

They make small talk as Steph packs up Claudio’s blend of coffee and wraps it with a bow. “And there you are.” She beams at them. “I hope the two of you have a great evening. You have a flight tonight, right?”

Wheeler nods. “Couple hours from now.”

“Make sure to keep that in the bag and put it in checked luggage,” Steph says. “You don’t want TSA getting handsy with it.”

“Duly noted,” Claudio says. He flashes one of his pretty smiles at Steph. “Thank you so much for your assistance. Next time we’re in town we will certainly stop by again.” He holds out his hand and Wheeler takes it as they make their way out of the store.

“So you really don’t enjoy coffee,” Claudio muses, thumb rubbing Wheeler’s skin. “I thought 27 would change your mind.”

“It’s not, like, a switch,” Wheeler laughs. He lets Claudio push to the driver’s seat this time and takes the coffee out of his hands, resting the bag in his lap as he sits. He glances over at Claudio. “You really like coffee.”

Claudio nods. “It’s quite an adventure, tasting coffee.” He gazes at Wheeler, making Wheeler’s entire chest swell. “Similar, I think, to being with you.” He reaches out and rests a hand on the side of Wheeler’s neck. “Different experiences, flavors, notes. But always the same, at its base.” His eyes soften. “Always, at the root of it, something that brings me comfort.”

Wheler leans over the center console and kisses Claudio. He doesn’t quite understand the words he wants to say, knows they’re there but not how to form them with his lips, so he tries to show it with his kiss. Claudio kisses back gently, insistently, and it’s familiar like he’d said.

It’s comfort.

It’s forever.

“Claudio,” Wheeler says, his heart racing. He hadn’t planned to do it now. He fumbles in his pocket. It’s been there for weeks now, never leaving his side. “Fuck. I meant to – get out of the car, okay?”

“Get out – why?” Claudio’s rarely baffled, but he follows Wheeler’s lead. Wheeler scrambles out of the car. The last time he felt nerves like this, the last time his adrenaline pumped like this, was Blood and Guts. When Claudio stands, Wheeler drops to a knee.

“Claudio Castagnoli,” he says, looking upwards. “Will you marry me?”

Claudio laughs and throws his head back. “Wheeler, you madman, I was planning – I was supposed to do this!” He drops down to Wheeler’s level. “Yes, of course.” He leans in and kisses Wheeler with fire behind it. “You always have the jump on me, don’t you.” He rests his forehead against Wheeler’s. “Would you believe me if I said I have a ring in the dresser at home?”

“Possibly,” Wheeler says.

Claudio strokes Wheeler’s jaw, pressing his lips to Wheeler’s cheek. “Will you let me propose to you later?”

“Yes,” Wheeler says, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “Now. Let’s get home.”

Claudio shakes his head. “Certainly not.” His smile turns a little devious. “I think we should find a hotel room and reschedule our flights, no?”

Wheeler grins at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

~

Mini Playlist: Starving - Hailee Steinfeld Numbers - The Cab Speechless - The Veronicas Forever and For Always - Shania Twain

[quitethepirategal]

Alternate Universes;

THERE’S A LION LADY IN THE WOODS  ~ 

Vampirzyca ( Vampire ). 

There’s a lion lady in the woods, eyes gold and hair orange red.  Her cabin’s hearth is never lit and no man has seen her bed.  You see, she smells of ashes and freshly torn meats.  Shes too tall and too hairy and walks like a clothed beast.  And on moonless nights she will hunt, kill, and feast.  So if you see her, be polite, or you’re dead…

An au in which Jessica is a beastly witch and vampire.  Back story is relatively flexible but she has a very fixed set of rules to her supernatural existence.  Based very loosely in Slavic, Eastern European, and South East Asian mythology and inspired by the works of Emlyn Boyle and Tumblr user @stil-lindigo.

[polaroidcats]

15 questions

Thank you @squintclover for tagging me in this tag game!! <3 I loved reading your answers to these questions!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY? No, my parents just liked my name, and its meaning. My mum originally wanted to name me Ursula but my dad vetoed that name because he was afraid I'd get bullied in school.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Uhmmmm probably last week in therapy?

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nopeeeeeee just a fur babyyyyyy <3

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Yeah, but I've been trying to tone it down more because sometimes it leads to misunderstandings.

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I can't think of any? Not a huge sports person. Love watching roller derby though, I WISH I could play that.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE? Idk just their general vibes? And their hair and height and voice and things like that I guess.

7. EYE COLOUR? greenish swamp colour

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? ALL THE HAPPY ENDINGS PLS I don't like scary movies! I have watched exactly 2 scary movies in my entire life, and had my eyes closed or covered for both of them most of the time.

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS? idk what qualifies as a special talent? I taught myself to be ambidextrous out of boredom during online uni, so now I can also write with my left hand *insert bi joke here*

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? in a hospital :D

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? tumblerDOTcom!!1, reading (either political nonfiction books or ALL the fanfic), various arts and crafts, gardening, or just, lying in a hammock in the garden whilst reading, generally spending time in nature hiking, biking, swimming etc. I also recently also started playing the cello again more AND IT'S SO FUN!

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS? yes yes yessssss his name is apollo and i don't post enough about him so here's a pic:

he even has his own tag on my tumblr (#hungry greek god) but it's pretty empty so far. my former pet ella had the tag #my little roommate and she was adorable and i still miss her every day </3

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 176cm!

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? i think it used to be just all the language subjects, so english, french, german and latin (lol). can't relate to liking latin anymore but back then I LOVED it.

15. DREAM JOB? oddly enough I'm not a huge fan of the whole concept of jobs and capitalism, not sure what that's all about. but tbh as far as jobs go, i kind of have my ideal job? I've always said I want to do a combination of part time social work and part time something academic, like maybe at one point teach at a university or be part of a research team or something. And whilst that's stil far away I feel like I mightttttt be on a good path to get there which is honestly wild and incredibe and I don't want to jinx it!!

I never know who to tag in these games because I don't want to tag people who don't enjoy doing tags, so I'm not going to tag anyone specific buuuut if you want to do the tag please just feel free to pretend I tagged you, and then next time I'll know who to tag for real! <3

[fabiansteinhauer]

Gentleman

The great hall: hier könnte auch William Wade, also Thomas Gainsboroughs Gemälde des Captains der englischen Navy, des Zeremonienmeisters oder Protokollchefs hängen, wenn es nicht woanders hängen müsste, nämlich in der Victoria Art Gallery.

In der großen (Eingangs-)Halle hängen gerade 10 Portraits und Doppelportraits im großen Stil. Gainsbororoughs Doppelportrait der Hallets und ihres Hundes, dessen Wischmopphaftigkeit derjenigen von Mrs. Hallets Frisur kaum nachsteht, hängt hier gleich ums Eck: links neben Drouais' Portrait des Comte de Vaudreuil.

Nahezu alle Portraits stammen aus der Phase, der Thomas Vesting in seiner Geschichte und Theorie der Rechtssubjekte die Figur des Gentleman zugeordnet hat (und die er mit William Wades Bild illustriert hat.

Wie singen die Groben in England zu dem Portrait?

All at once I was struck with the portrait of Wade, 

Which tho’ like him in feature tis much too tall made 

And looks, like its master – ashamed of its trade 

For it’s drawn as if walking alone in the fields 

In a jauntee undress which the present mode yields 

Uncovered – as tho he intended to bow 

To an ox or an ass – to a heffer or cow. 

[fallenstuffstuff]

⁰ fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

⁰ 7. "Follow me if you want to live."

Part 6.

They walked through the streets. Most of them were narrow, and they had to walk behind each other, but there were some where they didn't have to. For the whole time, Tachihara had the impression that someone was following them. Every now and then, he would catch an albatross with his gaze flying there or sitting. It was a bit bigger than the seagulls, which is why it stood out among the birds. Finally, he stopped and asked, looking at the sky.

"What do you want?!"

But the bird was gone. Tachihara made a "hmpf" sound and wanted to follow back Gin, but she was gone. He took a step back and looked around. A few tourists passed by.

"Gin?! "

He asked out loud and ran forward, looking around. Nothing. She was gone. Why? Where had she gone? He ran further forward, looking for her among the tourists. She was gone. There was no easily distinguishable mask or black hair within reach of her hair. He stopped and turned in a circle. There were a lot of tourists and people in masks around.

"Follow me if you want to live."

A person dressed in a floor-length purple coat with the letters IHP embroidered in gold thread at the bottom and trimmed with fur said, tugging him by his wrist. He didn't have time to see the person's face, but decided to follow him anyway. What else could he do? Redhead only glanced to the sides and followed the figure. They walked like that for a few minutes, passing tourists and people in disguise. Finally, they reached a less crowded street, probably some square between tenement houses. There, they went through a charming yard to a place full of books. In front of the building, in boats from which they had made shelves, in barrels, in bowls... they were everywhere and sparkling a bit with sea salt from the air. Tachihara spinned around, looking with a bit of awe. He never saw a bookshop like this. His hand moved down to touch the covers of the books, still folowing cloaked guy, but slowing their peace. Then mysterious person stopped walking and stood stil at the exit on the other side of the building, and behind him was a canal. Whoever it was, decided to turn around now and face him. They were one of the people in disguise. They had a golden mask with black and purple feathers and were watching him closely, sending shivers down Tachihara's spine.

"What do you want?"

He growled at him, not showing any fear. Because he didn't even know if what he felt could be called fear.

"Me? Nothing. Bishop? You."

That was his simple answer. Tachihara didn't know what exactly was going on. Then he heard the echo of heels behind him. He didn't have time to look back when someone had put some material on his face. He immediately recognized what it was soaked in. Chloroform. He tried to push away the hand that was holding him, but the person grabbed his wrists with a strong grip. In sudden panic, he inhaled too much air soaked in a dangerous mixture.

"Don't kick,"

The person he could only see a shadow in front of spoke up. Shadow was quite big, so this person had to be tall. Soon, his mind went blank. The last thing he felt was someone grabbing him with velvet gloves and throwing him like a sack of potatoes into a boat

[the-firebird69]

It's kind of risky but you can make it step like this like we have and you can put butter and other things to melt on the side chocolate even and you can make containers that don't fall off and people can dip stuff in it while it's melted or take it to the table this is a terrific idea too I think I'm gonna do this and when you hinge it over it'll integrate with the side and the top and the left is like a cutting counter and it's got a hinge and you could chop your meat and you can chop your veggies wash it off and it's smooth stone. There's a few materials people make it out of one of them might be the clay which doesn't have anything in it that clay. Be very solid that he would go through it slower and be more uniform it would be intense but this is the idea and it's a great idea to make it go down to the ground a little they would be that tall and they'd be a little bit steeper and it wouldn't fall over like all grills do eventually they'll probably make a portable one and the wheels would retract and you'd still have the clean out it's a very slick idea you could make it on a blocks too and and glue them together with the right mastic I'm gonna start working on mine. As for you guys to look at.

Bitol and Goddess Wife

we do this and awesome we work but ok nice. and we work on ouir design get it going. fun ide. too. the round ones wrk great and you can make it taller square bottom no noeed no it is ok but relly squre on the front is accepbable and can be done esily. or up a foot andh alf square and then pyramid but stil you will see works down low. and could have a series. and next to each ohter and the top folds and integrates with itself and the next one. forming a counter wiht several tops and nice dea i use it

he likes it and will try it.

Lobo and Proxima Midnight and good we are together we do this now good

Olympus

[libidomechanica]

For slippeak; ind talled, and woops up from hee too see, eten

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[shardsofswords]

The painting on my desk

So, in september of 2021, I went to a fantasy festival and bought a painting. It was by Paul Yperman, a french artist who attends multipe of these kinds of festivals and events all throughout europe and whose work i've been a fan of ever since i first saw it, on that same festival years earlier.

Here's some of his work (and his facebook https://www.instagram.com/ypermanpaul/?hl=en from what i know he sells his work online too, through facebook. So if you live in europe i highly recommend it)

As a younger teenager i'd bought the cheapest item in his shop, a small framed painting on paper, about a5 size, it cost about 10 euros at the time. It stil stands in my childhood bedroom, on my desk. But this time, i was older, i'd had a parttime job or a while, and i could afford an actual canvas piece.

My handbag was my grandmother's old one, she had jsut died and this was the first time i'm using it after my grandfather gave it to me. its smell reminded me of her. it had two facemasks in it that smelled like her too. I wore one, even though that's probably not hygienic. I gave the other one to a stranger who forgot his and couldn't enter the bus without one. It wasn't covid that killed her, it was probably fine. Maybe. When the smell faded i kind of regretted giving that second one away.

There was a painting in my grandparents' house of an old traditional windmill in their town that doens't exist anymore. My grandmother loved windmills, my father told me on the day of her funeral that she was delighted when the town they moved to, my childhood home, was in walking distance of more than 5.

It took me more than 20 minutes to choose a painting of Paul Yperman to buy. I'd wanted this for so long, and they're also beautiful. i'd gotten it down to two when i saw something in the corner of my eye. This one had a windmill on it.

That's the one i bought.

I carried it back home with me wrapped in paper, put it on my lap in the train and bus (it was tall enough that i could not see past it when i did that) and watched my every step, scared to death that something would happen to it.

It got home unscathed. but, because i was renting my student appartment, and didn't know if i was allowed to drill any holes in the walls, and didn't have anything for alternative options on hand, I didn't hang it, just unpacked it and set in on my desk, which was also my dining table, against the wall.

And it stayed there. I learned i was allowed to drill in the walls, and it stayed there. I discussed methods and placements with my parents, and it stayed there. I ate my dinner carefully to not splash any food or grease on it. It stayed there. I failed every single exam i took that year, and it stayed there. Like a momument to my executive dysfunction. Can't study, flake on the sport lessons my parents are paying for until the trainers text me worried if somethign happened to me (I don't answer. I don't tell my parents either.) don't hang the painting. I end the year technically allowed to continue my study, because in my country's system after you pass your first year you can take however long you like, but when i tell a study advisor i'm considering switching he tells me that's a good idea, because clearly this isn't working.

So i move back home, i go to a school that's only a one hour trip away, just short enough to make every day. I'm too scared to completely give up and don't officially move out of the appartment, just hire it out to another student. So all the furniture stays. But the painting comes home with me.

I ruin it immediately, i fail my first period at my new study so bad it is now by all accounts impossible for me to pass the whole year. I never actually unregistered from the old one, unable to let go, as i said. That turns out to have been the right decision. The student who was renting my room finds another place, I move back in. I'll have to make it work, somehow.

I pass my first exam there, i just barely fail the second, but last year for that very same exam i sat at my table for half an hour before turning in an empty answer sheet and leaving without making eye contact with the examinator, so let's call it an improvement. My therapist when i came in last time told me i was noticably more relaxed and comfortable.

I'm eating my dinner and wondering why, when everything is going much better than last time, does cooking and eating feel less fun.

And I look up and I realize

The painting stayed back home.

I convinced my mom to hang it in our living room a short few weeks before i stopped lying to her and admitted i was failing.

I am staring at my wall and i realize that i didn't look at it at all when i went back this weekend. For all that I hated myself for not properly hanging it up and what that meant about me whenever I saw it, it was a really beautiful painting. One i'd been planning for a full year to buy. One that i loved, that made eating my dinner alone less lonely.

Before it was on the living room wall back in my childhood home, it was back in that same old paper packaging i carried it home in ( I never actualy threw that away) standing in a corner of my bedroom. That exact space is now occupied by two old paintings from my grandparent's home. One of them is the one with the windmill. My grandfather isn't alive anymore either. They died 8 months apart. He wasn't there to offer me anything of his so from the attic i took an old school diary from his student days, where half the pages were falling out. And the paintings, of course. Since then, i've taken up bookbinding.

I am still looking at my empty wall.

I'd considered hanging it above my bed last year, to make the wall i saw first thing in the morning a bit livelier.

I've changed my mind. I want to hang it right above the my desk. With the other painting of the windmill next to it. they'll clash, the colors don't fit together. I don't care.

I'll have to make it work, somehow

[grey-tones]

Wear platforms anyways, tower above everyone

valid point, I already wear combat boots with a like 2 inch heel, but I have a lot of confidence issues when it comes to my height

[guardiandae]

Ugh. I'm googling pics of Ryan Reynolds standing next to Josh Brolin because reasons. Height difference reasons. And I already know damn well what their height difference is, the real reason is because I'm fucking weak.

And then:

This is too much I hate them why won't they just kiss

ETA: I cant stop staring at this pic they're so adorable together but also Nate would be the perfect height to just???? Kiss Wade's neck????! Whenever he wants??!!!! Wade is defenseless plz im dying

[mushroomlupin]

hi hello i saw you were taking requests i hope that’s stil true <3

i was hoping for some frank castle + cockwarming .... just a thought i had in the middle of the night, feel free to do whatever you want with it !!

much love !! <3333

Clean You Up

Pairing: frank castle x f!reader

Summary: frank comes home to reader and she draws him a bath

Requested: yes or no

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, stitching & cleaning up wounds, cockwarming, and tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,166

Masterlist & Ao3

You were sat on the sofa of you and Frank’s shared apartment, reading a book. Going to sleep was useless; you’d just end up tossing and turning, thoughts of worst-case scenarios and the sound of your racing heartbeat keeping you from falling asleep. He was at “work”, which meant he was either in some dark alleyway or some abandoned building beating the shit out of assholes that deserved it.

The first aid kit was already out on the bathroom counter, waiting for your steady hands to tend to his wounds. Though you weren’t as educated as you’d like to have been on tending to wounds and the overall anatomy of the body, there was something so intimate about stitching him up. Frank simply didn’t trust people and that was something you’d learnt the hard way. But after being in a relationship with him for nearly a year, he considered you the only person he trusted at all. He trusted your steady hands as you used tweezers to carefully remove the bullet from his body. He trusted your gentle fingers and the way you caressed the needle, puncturing his skin as you threaded his wound shut. As you drew him a bath to scrub him of the blood and dirt that clung to his skin, moving the warm washcloth over even the tenderest of bruises, he would watch you in awe. It was moments like this where he was most vulnerable and you used the gentlest touch to take care of him.

You cherished this time with him in the quiet of the early mornings within the four walls of your small bathroom.

The sound of the front door’s doorknob made you instinctively shut your book. With Frank’s wounds, you always anticipated the worst. The door swung open, revealing his tall frame. You stood from the sofa, examining his body.

He was covered in blood as usual. Most of the time, it wasn’t his, but you had to be certain.

His big brown eyes watched you from afar.

“‘M goin’ easy on you tonight, kid,” he joked, answering your unspoken question. “Just a lil’ scratched up is all.”

Your shoulders relaxed, but a part of you remained skeptical. Frank had a way of understating his injuries.

You gestured for him to follow you to the bathroom as he kicked the front door shut behind him. The heavy footsteps of his boots grounded you, protecting you from the eery silence of the flat. It was as if your apartment was a ghost of a place without him there. Frank’s presence kept it alive, made it a true home.

Following your usual routine, he stripped himself of his shirt for you to begin your work. Surprisingly, he’d told the truth; there were only a few scratches that needed cleaning up and the stitches you’d given him the previous night remained intact. You were impressed to say the least.

“What’d you do, talk to them nicely? Let ‘em off with a warning?” you laughed.

He hummed. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

It didn’t take long for you to finish, gently pressing a kiss to his shoulder before you plugged the tub drain and turned the faucet on.

“Thank you.” He pressed his lips into your hair, keeping them there for a moment to inhale the smell of your shampoo. Then, he kicked his boots off and rid himself of the remaining clothes on his body.

You tossed some lavender bath salts into the water once the tub had filled up, providing the bathroom with a nice aroma.

Your boyfriend carefully stepped into the bath, relishing in the warmth as he sat down and relaxed his muscles. You kneeled on the tile floor to fetch the bottle of his shampoo, but before your hand could touch the plastic bottle, he gently grabbed your hand.

“Why don’t you come in, hm?” He nudged his head toward his lap.

You frowned. “You sure?”

“Positive,” he ran a wet thumb across your knuckles before letting go of you.

He watched as you pulled your sweatshirt over your head and slid both your panties and your sweatpants off of your legs. His eyes roamed over your body, his pupils dilated and soaking in every possible detail of you. You dipped your feet in before finally settling in his lap, your back resting against his warm chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him.

He put his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

You blushed, turning your head to look at him.

His hair was starting to grow out, the previous buzzcut becoming a mop of dark curls. He had a bruise underneath his left eye and a cut on his forehead that you’d cleaned up just moments ago. His hand came up, his thumb and index finger gently caressing your chin. You smiled at the contact, leaning your face towards him to pull him in for a kiss. Your lips moved together slowly, his tongue licking a stripe against your bottom lip for you to decide whether or not you wanted more. You opened your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth, and yours slipping inside his.

You groaned, a hand coming to grab his hair at the nape of his neck. You could feel his shaft hardening against your back. You pulled away to maneuver yourself so that you were now facing him, straddling his lap. Your lips found another’s once more, his hands moving to graze the skin of your bare back.

“Missed you, baby,” he muttered, his lips moving to your neck. “Thought about you all day.”

You sighed at the feeling of his warm lips sucking at your neck, grinding yourself against him in response.

His teeth gently nipped at you, his tongue swiping over the skin to soothe it. A hand moved from your back to your front, gently caressing a breast in his hand and kneading it.

“Frank,” you sighed, swiveling your hips against him.

He hummed against your neck before bringing his lips back to yours.

“I wanna feel you,” he admitted. “I don’t think I got it in me to fuck you right now, but I need to feel you, baby.”

You figured as much; he’d been out since seven that morning. Not to mention, you were incredibly exhausted yourself.

“It’s okay, Frank,” you assured him, peppering his face with kisses. “Wanna feel you too.”

You lifted your hips up, grabbing his cock in your hand. Once you felt his tip at your entrance, you slowly sat down, impaling yourself with his shaft.

The two of you let out a sigh of pleasure, his cock sheathed entirely inside of you. You felt utterly full and satisfied.

You rested your head against his chest, his steady heartbeat like music against your ear. His big arms slipped around you, securing you to him.

In this moment, you’d never felt more safe and secure.

[such-a-bitchh]

GN MC suprising M6 with funny hairstyle on their bad day

This is a request from velvetxx1! Thank you for making this request, I hope you'll enjoy!

Warning: Muriel's headcanon contains spoilers for his route! Mostly are used hairstyles for long hair! Still, pronouns used are they/them, so you can always switch them to she/her or any other you like. In Julian part there's miss/mister/mix so you can choose one, or choose none, what suits you! <3

For the last few days Asra had been coming home more tired than ever. Your shop was becoming more and more popular, so people made requests for them to- "help you need to heal my nephew!" Or "come help me with bad magic surrounding my house!" Today he was doing the second one. So because you knew he's going to come home all tired and propably sad. You've made the decision! You are going to lighten up his day, doing something funny. But what? This idea came to you like a truck. You're going to make a pretty hairstale for you, and than matching one for him! You knew they love domestic thing like that. The plan was almost perfect! Yeah almost. You forgot you're mot a hairstylist, so it came out rather... extraordinary. But well, you didn't have much time because then-

"Mc I'm hoooo-what is that?" I mean your plan DID work, they were laughing. Obviously.

"I uhh" it was hard for you to say anything 'cause you yourself was trying to hold back a giggle "You were having tough work recently, so i decided tomake you feel better. Did it work?"

"Yeah, pretty much. You're an angel you know that?" He came closed pulling you in a hug. Faust slipped out of his sleeve and squeezed you, like she always does. Maybe this plan wasn't perfect, but it doesen't matter, as long Asra's happy, you are too. (Even if it means trying to put your hair back to normal for the next hour)

Being a countness is not easy. Well, it never was. But ever since Lucio stopped being a count all the work fel right on Nadia. You felt that too. Her headaches were getting worse, but at the same time she didn't have time to properly heal it. When you were waiting for her in your shared room, idea came to you. What if you would try to make her laugh this one time? You're going to connect two things she loves most- your hair, and you. Your plan was to make some cute hairstyle and watch her laugh. You spend on making a tower with your hair like an hour, but then she didn't come when she was supposed to. Your tower halfly fell, which was devastating to you. When another half an hour passed you deiced to look for her in the palace. You came out of your room (still with the tower on your head) and run through corridors until you heard her voice. You ran throught the corner and there she i- oops. It wasn't only Nadia. Two old, rich looking men were there with her. When you ran into them Nadia stopped talking. And then she bursted out laughing.

"Love, what is... that?" She asked trying to calm herself down.

"Well I- I" that was so embarrassing. Two from you, to Countness, trying not to giggle as well. "You were so tired lately, I wanted to make you smile, but then you didn't came when you were supposed to! And my love tower fell..." an that Nadia stopped laughing and looked at you. You would swear that you've seen the hearts appearing in her eyes.

"Darling, that's adorable. What did I do to deserve such a sweet partner?" She pet your 'love tower' stil giggling a little bit.

"I suppose that's kinda our fault" one of the tall men said "We were keeping the Countness up for some days, we didn't realise we were hurting her that way."

"Please excuse us for this. We'll leave now, Countness deserves a nice calm evening. Good night to both of you." The other one said bowing to Nadia, ane lowering their head at you, then they turned to Portia asking her to show them the exit. After they both left, Nadia turned to me.

"That was smooth you know? Thank you for caring for me so much, it means a lot" she kissed your temple. "What do you thing about a bath, i'm sure your 'love tower' would gladly use one." she smiled.

Rest of the night you spend on trying to wash your hair and get it out of the tower. But it was worth it.

When Julian started working as a doctor again, and opened his own clinic, he slept even less than he did before that, and there you were thinking it was impossible. So because he slept so not much, he was tired. And because he was tired you were sad. When you were sitting alone in yoru shared home again an idea came to your head. You'll suprise Julian with a home spa! You're going to make mud masks for both of you, lay in bath and style each others hair all evening! The only problem is that well... you didn't have much time for all of those cause Julian came home earlier than you expected. He yeled that he's home when you were geting bath for both of you ready. You panicked. It was supposed to be a suprise, you needed to stall. You ran out of the bathroom grabbing a brush on your way out.

"Oh hi darling, I came earlier today i had a little bit looser schedule how are you?"he came to you hugging you softly.

"Well I- I have a one very good plan!" You yelled getting the brush and showing it to Julian.

"Oh, what is it?" He raised one eyebrow

"We're going to be hairstylist for today! What do you think?" He looked suprised, but rather well suprised.

"I don't see why not-"

"Excelent then! You first!" You sat on yoir bed patting the spot behind you for him to sit there.

"So what would you like to have today as a hairstyle miss/mister/mix?" He asked already in his role.

"I'm going to leave it to you, suprise me!"you laughed. Later you'll find that that this was a MISTAKE. Julian was indeed feeling creative today because before he gave you a mirror he said that he 'needed Malak for proper exhibistion'. And there you were, with a nest on your head, and a raven sitting right in it.

"Julian."

"Yes darling?"

"What is that."

"A nest this is my love"

"Julian what-" Your conversation went somewhat like this, then you ended up runing after him for the next fifteen minutes but then you realised something. "Julian oh no! I let the facuet running!"

After heart of the forest was gone, it became more dangerous so Muriel had to take care of it and protect it. It was indeed a hard work, and seeing your love so tired everyday made you tired too. One day he left withoit Innana saying that "it was too dangerous today to take her with him" so he left both of you in the hut. You layed on the floor with Innanna biting your hair and playing with it. She was the one who gave you an idea about what you'te going to do to lighten up Muriel day a little. You took out your hairpins and scrunchies and you got to work right away. Your idea was to make matching hairstyles for you and Innanna. It was a little bit hard because both of your 'hair' were pretty short. So you sticked some pins here and there, some bows, and... it's perfect! Muriel's going to melt when he comes home! You both didn't have to wait long. When he stepped in to the hut you ran to him and hugged him with Inanna brushing both of your legs. When you pulled away Muriel had time to take a better look at both of you.

"What is that" he stuttered. Inanna happily barked.

"Don't you think it's adorable? We're matching!" You picked your wolf partner in crime and kissed her nose.

"Did you- did you agree?" he asked his familiar. She howled, and that was propably a 'yes' because he looked quite relaxed.

"And lucky for you i have some spared bows." You smiled mischeviously. Muriel then realised that it's too late to run.

It's quite obvoius that if the Countness has more work, Portia does too. So when he came home today, very tired again you decided that you need to do something! While walking around the cottage, with Portia laying in the living room on a couch, not registering what is happening around her, you picked up an idea. You saw so many pins and cat hair laying around the house that an idea striked you. You're gong to make hair art on Portia's head. A beautifull sculpture of... Pepi! When you came up to her again, this time with a cat in your arms she was asleep. You know that Portia's not a light sleeper so you knew, that it's not going to be hard for you. You got to work right away and after some time, it was done. You still don't know how she didn't wake up, you understand that she's a heavy sleeper, but this heavy? Then you started doubting. And... oh no. What if she's dead? What if she passed out because of all the stress and lack of sleep? You needed to wake her up to see whether you're delusional, or you just made a cat hairstyle on a dead body of your girlfriend. You took pepi's cat butt and started tickling Portia's nose with her tail. It worked, she started waking up. What a relieve. You didn't kill her after all.

"Hi Pepi" she munbled hugging her cat closer. "Hi Mc" she said to you and picked herself up from the couch. Then you realised something. Portia was sleeping on her stomach and you were doing her hairstyle on... "Mc? What is a Pepi sculpture doing on the back of my head?" It's time to run.

Lucio birthday was getting closer, and with that, the masquerade. So for around a month everyone in the palace was running around, getting everything ready for the big event. You noticed that even streets were busier than usual lately, and with tha all of your friends. Asra was helping Nadia with planning, Julian was making himself an outfit for the big occasion bacuse he made a bet with Portia, Muriel, to your suprise, was carving himself a masquerade mask, Nadia- obviously was the head of the whole organization, and Portia was helf right hand so they both and way too much work. And Lucio- well he wasn't as busy and Nadia, but it was still HIS day, so he wanted everything to be perfect as well. That way it suprised you that he syopped talking so much, and didn't do his eyeliner so often. For others it's just small things, but for you? You knew right away something was wrong, and you didn't like it. At all. You needed to find a way to relax him, and because he is well... horny most of the time, you decided that you'll going to make yourself a ~sexy hairstyle~. Making a hairstyle look easy, doesen't it? Well... IT IS NOT. You spend an hour trying to recreate a hairstyle of some man you've seen on the streets of Vesuvia, but it came out rather... awful. Not only did it look like shit, but also put you through so much pain, that you're sitting in the corner of Lucio's room, angry cursing everything and everyone. Then, Lucio came in. Seeing you curled in a corner, angry look on your face and in some weirdass hairstyle, he broke down in laughter.

"Why are you laughing? Can't you see I'm angry Lucio?" You yelled at him getting up and crossing your arms. He came up to you and calming down he kissed your colarbones and pulled you into his embrace.

"I'm sorry love, I'm not going to anymore" and then, Mercedes and Malchior came, to them you looked weird, and foreign, so they started barking... and Lucio started laughing again. Maybe that wasn't exactly the plan, but he looks relaxed at least. So for you? It's fine.

[eruden-writes]

Shel Station (Mechanic Ork x Reader) - Part 1

@lovestruckheifer suggested this when I was asking for prompts:

Something wholesome with a pig-headed/faced orc. Can't really find anything wholesome with this type of orc.

Perhaps the orc is from the country side and with their partner in a city. Unfamiliar and overwhelmed but they are with their partner who is familiar with the sights and sounds.

I did a different direction than a country-side orc going into the city.

Oh, and I decided to make this one an ork, instead of an orc.

---

In any other circumstance, you’d have found the scenery beautiful. Long expanses of orange-red sand with the occasional cacti or cluster of dried bramble. Mountains in the distance, like sleeping giants. A bright blue sky with a lone buzzard circling overhead. Heat waves rising off the empty highway ahead and behind you.

However, in this case, your fucking rental car broke down. And all you see is dust and an opportunistic scavenger bird, waiting for you to die.

It took hours on the phone with a rental car rep to figure out what to do. You wasted nearly half a tank of gas, just blasting the A/C while just waiting to hear back from Chad or Rachel or whatever basic names the call center reps had. Once they confirmed they had found a mechanic willing to tow you, it took another hour for the greasemonkey to arrive.

Fifteen minutes before the blue tow truck arrived, the gas fumes ran out.

Needless to say, you are not in a great mood - and agonizingly sweaty - when the mechanic pulls up. As the driver maneuvers the truck in front of your car, you climb out of the rental. It feels worse outside. The sun blares down on your body from above, no longer directly overhead, thankfully, but still high in the sky.

You’ve already changed into as few clothes as possible, which means your lightest pair of shorts, a tank top, and a pair of sandals. Stil, you were dripping with sweat.

When the driver steps from the cab of their truck, you wildly wonder how they can deal with wearing so much in this heat. Your feet sweat just looking at their scuffed up steel-toed boots and you cringe at the thought of wearing the same dark blue coveralls. On their chest, an embroidered name tag displays ‘Shel’ under which ‘she/her’ is displayed..

It’s only when your eye settles on the mechanic’s beefy green arm you realize they’re non-human. Your eyes flick to their face as they approach, finding small tusks jutting from full lips beneath a pig-like snout and . Their blondeish-red hair is long on top, pulled into a bun, while the sides are shaved short.

“You’re the mechanic?” You gawp, blinking as their shadow falls over you. They’re so tall - at least seven foot, maybe more - and you faintly wonder just how much muscle the baggy coveralls are hiding.

“Yes,” Shel pins you with a critical golden-brown gaze, one of her hands landing on her hip. As the weight of her hand pulls the fabric, you can see vague outlines of her musculature. Catching your stare, you shift your gaze to her face. You realize she has a beauty mark under her left eye and almost miss her next words. “Is there gonna be a problem with that?”

“No! Of course not!” Instant regret slams into your thoughts. She totally took your staring the wrong way. You raise your hands up, palms toward Shel as additional ungodly heat claws into your face. Under her unimpressed gaze, you begin to babble, “I just… it’s hot and I was prepared to deal with a guy and you know what car guys are like.”

For an agonizing beat, she stares down at you, before finally giving a nod. “Exhausting.”

“Haha, good one,” you laugh, but the giggle trails off as she raises a critical eyebrow. Once again, the words babble from you, as you point helplessly to your car with your thumb, “Like car exhaust, right?”

For a dreadful beat, silence bubbles up between you two. With you awkwardly cringing out a smile while the ork mechanic stares down at you, like you’re a strange sort of bug.

“You don’t take the heat well at all, do you?” She narrows her eyes, a curl of amusement making her lips curve into a smile around her tusks as her snout wrinkles. The temptation to run your fingertip along her snout’s wrinkled ridges rises up and you quickly slam it back down. She nods back to her still-running vehicle, before walking past you. “Hop into my truck while I get ‘er hooked up.”

Though the allure of air conditioning is strong, you still half-turn back to Shel as she inspects your rental. “You, uh, you don’t need help?”

“Nope.” Pure confidence as she opens the driver side door and shifts the car’s gear stick. A little too late, you realize you left the keys in the ignition when she arrived. She speaks a little louder, an insistent edge to her words. “Get in the truck before you pass out.”

Finally, you nod and head to the truck, your shoulders hunched. As soon as you climb in and slam the door shut behind you, you heave a sigh and sink into the passenger seat. The cold air on your flushed cheeks is a salve. You’re certain you’ve burned in the sun, even though you’ve barely spent ten minutes outside.

Then again, there might be another reason why your cheeks feel so warm, you realize, as you find yourself watching Shel through the rearview mirror. In the span of time it took you to get to the truck, she has the hood of your rental popped open. She seems to be giving it a critical once over, fiddling with parts you can’t even guess the name of.

As she leans over the engine, the coverall pulls tight around her rear, and you snap your attention to the truck’s dashboard.

There is no way you’re ogling your mechanic! She’s just doing her job! Miserably, you press your hands to your cheeks, realizing how fast your heart is thrumming and how graciously cold your hands have gotten in the air conditioning. Maybe it’s the heat that’s gotten to you. You’re not thinking straight.

As soon as that thought hits you, you giggle deliriously to yourself. Of course, you’re not thinking straight. And then the image of Shel’s beefy forearms slides into your brain, like a fuck boy sliding into your DMs.

You barely choke down a stressed whimper before the driver’s side door opens.

“Alright, it looks like there’s some magic dust buildup. Probably not from your trip, unless y’drove through, like, five wizard’s storms on your way out here.” Shel dusts her hands off on her coverall pant legs, before climbing into the driver side seat and shutting the door behind her.

You stare at her, trying not to think how little space there is in the truck cab. You’re distracted by a droplet of sweat coasting down the side of her throat, disappearing under the collar of her coveralls, as she continues, “Looks like there’s some overdue maintenance, too. I’ll take a better look at my garage.”

You try to forget the thoughts you had moments early and force your eyes to turn toward Shel’s face. “How long until I can get back on the road?”

“Like I said, I’ll take a better look at the garage,” she replies as she puts the truck into gear and slowly turns back the way she came on the highway. It’s easy enough, given how dead this stretch of road is. “Magic dust buildup can do a lotta weird things and cause problems you didn’t think were an issue.”

“Oh, okay.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare out the passenger window, watching the desert and dust pass by. Your teeth worry at your bottom lip as you wonder what to do now. This roadtrip through the desert wasn’t meant to last very long.

You had been trying to get back home after visiting friends in the obscenely hot part of the country. The only reason you chose to roadtrip back home was thanks to all the flights around your friend’s city being grounded, thanks to an abrupt gryphon migration diversion.

With all that in mind, you weren’t sure if you had the funds for a new rental or to stay at a hotel until the current rental got fixed. Hell, you weren’t even sure where Shel was taking you. Did she even operate in a town? Or was she an isolated garage, out in the middle of an infernal hellscape of heat and dust?

“Dustrun doesn’t have much, but it’s got what you need.” Shel seemed to pick up on the apprehension descending on you. Though she keeps her eyes on the road, even as she addresses you. “We’ll get you a place to stay and eat until your car is fixed up or until the rental agency sends you a new one.”

Another sigh heaves through your chest. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll have the funds to pay for stuff.”

“I’ve worked with Enterprize Rental Firm before, they’ll cover your room and the costs of repair.” Shel says this so matter-of-factually, you feel a little bit of tension ease from your body. Not entirely, but some. “You just gotta pay for what you eat. Or work it off in the diner, I s’pose.”

That doesn’t sound so bad, you think, as you settle into the seat a little further. Your eyes turn back toward the window, watching the cacti and rocks skirt by. Overhead, sparse and wispy clouds had journeyed into the sky, just as dusk began approaching.

The rattle of metal and the rush of the air conditioning play as ambient background to your dawdling thoughts. Before you know it, your eyes droop and the toll of being stranded out in the desert has whisked you away to sleep.