#yes i drew him when he was young because there’s like no photos of him now (not rlly)

[akrillica]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMOTHY!!!!!!!

GUYS GUESS WHAT IT’S TIM FOLLIN’S BIRTHDAY!!! i waited two weeks to post this lol. i was also so happy to find out we share the same birth month

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Not too happy with this chapter but hope it's good enough 😕

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part one ← Part two → Part three

Summary: When Charlie is called to heaven for a meeting instead of her father she is ecstatic but she meets a boy with some very familiar features..

Warnings: cursing, Adam mentioned, rlly weird layout, idk what else, probs spelling mistakes and weird grammer

Where am I??" Was the only thought coursing through the boy's mind?

He couldn't hear anything but his thoughts, everything else was muffled as if he was underwater, he strolled mindlessly throughout the forest, there were lush plants and exotic flowers of every tone and shape.

He could see birds and insects, things they did not have in his new home...

As he walked forward, it was like he was being pulled, like he didn't control it...

He heard a voice call for him...

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱ dear?? Where-" was all he heard, voice silencing before he heard a yell...

He couldn't make out words but he heard a male's voice shout, who were they shouting for??

As he stumbled through the thicker, darker patch of forest he reached a tree, an apple, sparkling and juicy, shaped like a heart hung from a branch. Just as he went to grab it,

someone clung to the skin on his leg.. Or something.. Biting down on his flesh.. His pale skin turned pink and oozing a cherry-coloured syrup.

As he turned to see the blood dripping he shot up, dripping in a cold sweat as his face whitened.

That dream. Again.

It had been haunting him, it happened every so often but now more than ever. It was always the same.

He wanders, a woman calling for someone and a man screaming then sees the Apple and tries to grab it before being bitten. Then waking up before being able to see the creature.

But what was it?.. He sat up on his bed, grabbed a yellow shoebox from under his bed, he placed it onto his milky white duvet.

He peeled the lid off the box, revealing a little rubber duck... He didn't know where it was from but he had had it for as long as he could remember, there were a few photos of him and his friends... Mainly Emily.

There were a few random things, buttons and feathers, but he finally found what he was looking for, a folded sheet of parchment. He opened it revealing a drawing of the forest, mainly the path he walked and the paths he could see.

He took out the red pen and drew the figure of a woman, shouting... He couldn't see the figure's face or features but he could tell it was a woman.

His father could never see this, nor Sera. They'd think he was plotting against something.. Which he'd never do. He wasn't a monster.

At the bottom of the box was a small gift from Emily, a little box that had been wrapped with gold ribbon. Inside was an apple... An actual real apple.

He hadn't a clue where she got it but it was gorgeous. So shiny and juicy, plump and red, a delicious bloody red...

He had never understood why they were forbidden anyways, yes because of The Fall but surely the fruit wasn't the problem..

He couldn't blame Eve.

He wouldn't have resisted either.

His silence was broken by knocking on his door. "(M/N)? Son? I'm heading off to my meeting, there's some food on the table, take care!"

It was his dad, it was thoughtful of the man to let him know he was leaving but it scared the boy shitless.

He got himself dressed and got to work on his heavenly duties, he strolled through a building, looking for Emily, he had to tell her about his dream.

As he walked past a meeting room he could hear a familiar screeching voice, Adam.

And a voice he hadn't heard before?.. A young girl? Whatever. It wasn't Emily so it didn't matter, he continued to walk until the voice got louder, almost like it was behind him

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!"

Miss? He turned to see the person who had been shouting, it was a girl.

She had red glowing eyes with the sclera being a strong yellow color.

Her hair was the same straw blonde colour as his hair, it was tied up into a strange ponytail, in circular shapes almost, she was wearing a blood-red suit and her cheeks were rosy and pink.

What a strange angel... She didn't even look like an angel...

He just turned and continued to walk, going to find Emily.

..............................................................................................

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven and ruled by beings of Pure light, Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil..." A blonde girl read aloud,

As she flicked through the pages she looked at the part in between the section where Lucifer and Lilith tempted Eve and the banishment.

It was burnt, the small gap, unnoticeable at first glance, but with the number of times she had read it, she could tell someone had burnt out a few pages, burning part of the story...

"Charlie?" Her girlfriend said at the doorframe, an extermination had just happened, she looked out the window at the burning city.

She needed to put a stop to this, these sinners surely didn't deserve it. Well at least some of them.

The day seemed to melt away quickly, they had talked about commercials and... Well they all had some unique ideas...

Her phone started to ring, and she jumped up and went to answer it.

It was her father? Strange... He never called.

But he wanted her to go to heaven instead of him? Holy shit... Maybe she could change heaven's mind after all...

Before she knew it she was there, heaven..

When Charlie arrived she noticed how pristine everything was, light, bright, the place was practically blinded by white light.

She now stood before The Adam, or as he called himself (much to her dismay) The original dick. She had put all the ideas she could (before he'd interrupt) onto the table but they smushed it all.

To sum it up... The meeting went horribly. She had not only been turned down but completely ignored. Her whole life she had believed angels to be kind, caring creatures... There was a reason they made it up there after all.

But she wasn't so sure now. She wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

As she was leaving she saw a pair of wings stroll past the door, they were full and stuck out proudly, glowing a bright white. The feathers looked almost like cotton candy as they surfed the breeze, one or two floating off.

One had dropped at her feet. She picked it up before trying to get a look at the angel, they had long blonde hair, and she presumed it was a woman.

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!" She shouted about the feathers, maybe the angel would need them? Or maybe she just wanted to see the angel's face. She couldn't tell but she felt somewhat connected to the being.

The angel turned gracefully, piercing eyes staring through her, beautiful, beautiful eyes, they were the colour of a rich berry, a beautiful purple, like a flower, soft and delicate. Yet the angel's stare could have ripped her in half by that alone.

Charlie stood there, not making a sound so the angel turned around. Bored with her it walked off through the corridor.

She needed to know who this was and why they looked like her mother.

..............................................................................................

"I still dunno what ya mean by 'she looked like my mother' toots, who are ya even talkin' about again?" Angel replied, pouring himself another drink as Charlie told the spider demon bout the meeting and her encounter with the angel.

"I'm telling you!! She looked just like my mom!" She said, waving a picture of her mother in front of Angel's face.

"Jeez, okay calm! I get it!" He slapped the picture away "Why are ya so bothered though?"

"I don't know. I just felt connected to her.. " she said, petting Keekee, who curled into her lap and purred at the affectionate touch.

"For all you know it might've not even been a girl, just let it go toots" he took a big swing of his drink before pouring another drink.

"I'm telling you I feel connected to them, I... I know they looked like my mother." She sighed.

Hopefully, she'd be able to go up to heaven soon, to win them over and to see that angel again.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire

@honey-valentin3 @type-ink

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

GQ Magazine - July 2007

The Summer of Jessica Biel

To celebrate Biel’s being in a movie actually worth seeing, we sent Adam Stein to play carnival games with her.

When I told various friends I’d be interviewing Jessica Biel, I got the responses you’d expect—jealousy, mild rage, a plea to give her a phone number because she’s the one person that a friend’s wife would give him a free pass to sleep with. The uncanny thing is, when I asked these guys what they thought of her as an actress, most of them drew a blank. They hadn’t seen a single motion picture of hers. Okay, one or two had girlfriends who’d brought them to see The Illusionist, but otherwise, nada. As my friend Taj put it: “I’m obsessed with a girl I’ve never seen move.“

Well, that’s about to change. Later this month, men across America will see Jessica being very good in a very funny movie, and the nature of their love for her will…deepen. She’ll still be inhumanly beautiful, sure, but now they’ll have to contend with genuine talent, too, and that one-two punch can be disorienting. You know what else can? The fact that despite her recent tabloid exposure, she’s actually sweet, funny, earnest, occasionally a little crude, and—if my time playing carnival games with her can be used as evidence—uniquely driven to conquer whatever stands between Jessica Biel and what she wants.

I am waiting for her at the Santa Monica Pier, sitting on a stool next to one of those games where you shoot water from a gun into a clown’s mouth. I haven’t shaved for a week, because I read somewhere that Jessica Biel likes guys with beards. I’m inspecting mine in the reflective back of my iPod when a nice-looking young woman materializes in my view. “Excuse me,“ she says. “Are you Adam?“ “Jessica?“ I ask, ridiculously. Of course it’s her, in wraparound sunglasses, an open gray sweater over a white blouse, and faded jeans. She wears checkered Vans, like Jeff Spicoli. On the pier, no one recognizes her, which I suppose makes sense: There’s little resemblance between the pinup girl and the sneaker-wearing civilian out on a Monday afternoon. She doesn’t stick out as we walk the wooden planks of the amusement park; she blends in. She is, you might say, a very chill girl.

“Can we get a photo next to a star?“ she asks, stopping in front of a booth hawking photographs with huge cardboard cutouts of celebrities. It’s an impressive, eclectic array: Bill Clinton, Mini Me, Michael Jordan, Hilary Duff, Enrique Iglesias(!), Jean-Claude Van Damme, DiCaprio in Titanic. “They’re all kind of old,“ she says. I don’t know if she means the cutouts or the celebrities themselves (because to me, Mini Me will never age). She’s only 25 years old, so it could go either way. I ask her who she’d most want to pose with. She scrutinizes the assembly and makes her call: “I’d probably pick Van Damme, ‘cause he looks the coolest.“ She takes the Muscles from Brussels over Leo—a victory of might over sensitivity. Nice.

Then she decides it’s time for the games to begin. She passes up the Riptide Ring Toss (“That one is impossible,“ she says) and focuses her attention on the Pier Plank Plunge. The PPP is basically a rope ladder suspended horizontally over an inflatable mattress. The trick is to climb, perfectly balanced, to a taunting red button placed approximately ten feet away. Press the button, win the prize—an enormous Sonic the Hedgehog. I ask her if she’s ever Pier Plank Plunged before. “Yes,“ she says, assessing the structure, looking for its weaknesses. “But I’ve never been able to achieve it.“ She begins barraging the bored-looking carny with questions. “Do you have any tips?“ (It’s all about balance.) “Have you done it before?“ (Nope.) “Has anyone ever won?“ (Yeah.) “Has anyone won today?“ (Not yet.) She turns to me, and I have to say she seems genuinely excited. “This is our chance,“ she says. “It’s our chance to win.“ I’m beginning to get the distinct impression that winning is important to Jessica Biel. “Ladies first“ being the imperative, I take the initial go-round. It’s harder than it looks. My arms shake. Everything shakes. I can feel her hopefulness—Do it, get there—but I fall off within seconds. The shame is truly surprising. I wanted to do it for Jessica and failed. She throws me a “good try“ before stepping up herself.

Jessica was a gymnast when she was younger, and the training appears to be paying off as she mounts the unstable rope ladder. (It also occurs to me that the view I currently have is one the paparazzi would kill for.) She deploys a disciplined crawl, gets tantalizingly close to the red button, reaches for it—and loses her balance, flips over, and lands flat on the cushion, laughing. “Holy shit,“ she yells. “It’s so hard. That’s so frustrating.“ The carny asks if we’d like to try again. She pauses for a moment, looking at the button, and then, with obvious reservations, demurs. “You were really, really close,“ I tell her. “I know,“ she says, still staring at it, reluctant to move, apparently, without conquering the damn thing. “That’s how it gets you.“

Next up is something called the Hi-Striker, a game in which you swing a mallet to test your strength. I take three feeble swings, each one less successful than the last. A huge Hispanic man laughs every time I bring the mallet down on the metal block, and when I exit the cage and hand it off to the female attendant, she takes one exhibition swing and makes my emasculation complete. Up goes the projectile. Ping goes the bell.

J.B. watches, rapt. “Look at her awesome stance,“ she whispers, absorbing the details, memorizing the motion. Some actors “find“ their characters via a process of internalization—investigating emotions, plumbing psychology, creating an “inner life.“ This is known as the inside-out approach. Other actors work outside-in—developing a walk, a gesture, a physicality. Look at, say, Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby. Look at Jessica Biel in the Hi-Striker cage.

Mimicking the attendant’s, her first swing easily skunks my best effort. And she improves with each attempt. She’s getting into character. As she exits the cage, there’s a look of satisfaction on her face. She returns the mallet to the attendant, who looks at me and says: “She did better than you.“ As we leave, I ask her: “Is it more technique than strength?“ She shakes her head. “Brute strength,“ she says. “You just throw it up and slam it as hard as you can.“ On our way off the pier, we pass Zoltar, the animatronic fortune-teller who turned that kid into Tom Hanks in Big. Zoltar senses us and speaks: “Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.“ Zoltar makes Jessica smile. She digs his philosophy.

Jessica Biel’s destiny, at least of late, has led her to a prominent place in the trashy supermarket gossip rags. First it was snapshots of social excursions with second-banana studs (Chris Evans, Ryan Reynolds). Then, upping the ante, there was a beach fling with a sports icon (Derek Jeter). And then, in February, she grabbed the tabloid brass ring for reportedly nabbing the world’s most eligible bachelor, Justin Timberlake. Unsurprisingly, it’s not something she’ll discuss.

One thing she is happy talking about, though, is the unladylike girth of her knuckles. We’re getting dinner at an unassuming Italian trattoria across the street from the pier when she flashes those meaty joints and describes her nascent production company. “It was almost called Fat Knuckle Films. Because I have fat knuckles. See?“ she asks. “They don’t really look that way until you start putting rings on them, and then it stops right there.“

I have to say, Jessica Biel’s chunky midfingers are endearing, human, attainable—a word she uses a number of times in our conversation, as if to remind the world that she’s just a regular girl from Boulder, Colorado, who happens to have been called, by Esquire magazine in 2005, the Sexiest Woman Alive.

“At first I felt really embarrassed about it,“ she says. “You know, it’s a weird thing to talk about. Like, ‘Hey, guys. Guess what?’ You don’t just go telling everybody that.“ She shifts her weight forward and goes on: “But after I got over that, I just started to embrace it. I started thinking, If I ever do have kids, and if they have kids, I can tell them: ‘You know what? Your grandma in 2000-and-whatever was the Sexiest Woman Alive. How about that, kids?’ That’s what I started to think about. I’ll always have that picture to say, ‘That’s what Granny used to look like.’ “

Before coming out here to get my ass handed to me at the Hi-Striker, I immersed myself in Jessica Biel’s Collected Works. She got her start in the mid-’90s on 7th Heaven, the WB dramedy that made a splash with the moral-values set, before leaving around 2002 for bigger (and badder) things. It’s been a grim scene ever since: Summer Catch (2001), which starred Freddie Prinze Jr. and stands at number forty-nine on Rotten Tomatoes’ 100 Worst- Reviewed Films of All Time. The Rules of Attraction (2002), notable only for Fred Savage shooting heroin between his toes and saying things like “I can feel my dick.“ (Remarkably, Biel comes across as fresh and charming, despite the astonishing pointlessness and nihilism of the flick.) The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003), which was Biel’s first top billing and is her biggest box-office performer to date, with a take of about $80 million. J.B. screams her head off throughout the movie and is entirely believable in distress, but you can’t help thinking as you watch her, There’s got to be better material than this. Sadly, no. There was an atrocity called Cellular, in 2004, and Blade: Trinity that same year (in which Biel kicks much undead ass as a midriff-baring vampire hunter). But the nadir has to be London, in ’06, a delusional piece of trash that starts off with a sex scene, Biel on top, saying, “Are you coming? Are you coming?“ before she proceeds to another not-quite-dignified act and then dips out of the frame to, presumably, swallow. Like I said, a grim scene.

And then, just in the nick of time, salvation arrived. A script called The Illusionist, to star Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti. There was a problem, though. The filmmakers didn’t want to give Biel an audition. They weren’t convinced the vampire-hunting Hollywood creation could rearrange herself into the role of a refined fin de siècle Hungarian duchess.

But Jessica Biel has a hard time taking no for an answer. And when another actress “dropped out“ of the film, her tenacity paid off. They finally brought her in. She arrived wearing a full period costume. She made them take her seriously, she says, and three days later, an offer arrived.

The Illusionist wasn’t what you’d call a “hit,“ but it got good reviews, made decent money, and changed the industry’s perception of her. Doors that were closed began to open. They just weren’t opening fast enough for her taste.

She sets down her after-dinner tea and says, “I want choices. I want options. I want to lay out all the directions I could go and have the ability to choose. I’m slowly starting to have that now.“ It’s the “slowly“ that kills her.

One film that will almost surely expedite the process is I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, which will be released this month. It stars Adam Sandler and Kevin James as two Brooklyn firefighters who pretend to be a gay couple in order to receive domestic-partner benefits. J.B. plays the female lead, their hoodwinked attorney who falls for Sandler by the end of the picture.

Chuck and Larry is Jessica’s first real shot at popular, mainstream film success. Unlike her previous big-budget endeavors, it doesn’t rely on CGI or fetishistic weaponry to make its points. It is also—apologies to Freddie Prinze Jr. —her first comedy.

“It was a little bit intimidating,“ she says. “I really admire Adam and Kevin, but then, I didn’t try to equal them or one-up them, and the character I created didn’t have to be that. She’s the straight woman, but very fun and very cool and just—attainable. That’s the kind of part that I’d like to play more. I mean, a vampire hunter? Is that really attainable? I’d just like to play something a little more quirky, interesting, outrageous. And uninhibited.“

“You’re not worried that she can do comedy,“ the movie’s director, Dennis Dugan, tells me. “You can tell she can do comedy. So we just met her and cast her. I really think she can have one of those diverse, Oscar-winning careers. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no horizon to her talent.“

The sun has gone down, and we’re standing on the sidewalk in front of the Italian joint, across from the pier. I’m holding a small stuffed Spider-Man doll that Jessica won as a prize back at the amusement park and which she’s given to me to give to my son. I ask what she’s doing tonight, and she says she’s playing chaperone to a girlfriend on a first date. “Basically, I’m her wingman tonight,“ she says. “I’ll probably slip away if it’s rolling along well.“

She graciously agrees to a photograph with me, which I would include except for two reasons: (1) I don’t want to make Justin Timberlake jealous, and (2) you never quite understand how unattractive you are until you see yourself in a picture with Jessica Biel.

I watch her as she walks toward the pier. I know it’s where her car is parked, but I have this image of her heading straight back to the Pier Plank Plunge. The carny won’t know who she is, nobody on the pier will recognize her, and she’ll just hand over her fiver and go at it. That red button, almost within her reach. Attainable.

[beardedmrbean]

Zoomer Huey, I tend to see people saying why Gen z don’t have sex much.

Holy

Fucking

Shits

These journalists surprisedly have WORSE self awareness than there boomer relatives

Here a hint https://x.com/swannmarcus89/status/1762582001507323991?s=46

And gender dynamics are…nuked in the fields they are surveying. Women and girls are told that all men are predators and misandry is left unchecked

Also, why Hollywood act surprised about the sex abuse?

We all heard about the casting coach, and how suspiciously people from working class backgrounds like Micheal Jackson (yes his dad had his music connections. But essentially mj was a slave and was arguably was the first black child star unless I’m missing someone) and Walt Disney (though not as bad) are painted as monsters while the actual monsters are protected for decades

I mean look at Judy Garland, she was a sweet person and she did help the LBGT in Hollywood and supported the civil rights movement

But her “crazy” behavior makes more sense because she was sexually abused at a extremely young age

And she not the only one, Shirley Temple, the boy who played at the first LA Dennis the Manis

Oh and the Peter Pan actor (a lot of people leave out the part where ALL of Hollywood basically says he can choke and die because he was “too” Disney)

But sorry about the Gen stuff, but the false rape accusations, maybe if you guys didn’t view men (especially white ones) the same way Nazis viewed the Jews while saying all the working class men were Weinstein.

My Gen would have more sex

Entertainment industry has been like that since the beginning of forever, probably less so when women weren't allowed to participate but still a thing I'm sure.

As for Judy Garland it was nice to see people come out swinging in her defense when someone tried to start shit over well

She was not in control of her carer, saying no was not an option for her with this, but dumbasses that can only think in terms of today's standards never think about that.

Jay North (Dennis the Menace) did ok, so did Shirley Temple, plenty of others not so much, more recently we can look at Drew Barrymore and RDJ who both had fairly public meltdowns and problems.

Drew was ruined since her first film was ET and Spielberg takes care of the kids on set, going beyond the legal requirements.

Bobby Driscol was the Peter Pan VA top of his Wiki article.

Robert "Bobby" Cletus Driscoll (March 3, 1937 – c. March 30, 1968) was an American actor who performed on film and television from 1943 to 1960. He starred in some of the Walt Disney Studios' best-known live-action pictures of that period: Song of the South (1946), So Dear to My Heart (1949), and Treasure Island (1950), as well as RKO's The Window (1949). He served as the animation model and provided the voice for the title role in Peter Pan (1953). He received an Academy Juvenile Award for outstanding performances in So Dear to My Heart and The Window.

He just fell into the child actor pit, where he wasn't "cute" anymore couldn't get gigs and couldn't adjust to not being in the spotlight, the way he went and nobody knowing is awful to think about still.

Jackie Coogan, on the other hand was a different story.

His parents sucked and as a result there's a series of laws named after him California's Coogan Law all about protecting the earnings of child actors from their parents. % goes into a trust iirc.

He ended up OK in the end though

The false accusation thing, #me too hurt women because #believe women was taken advantage of to such a degree that even this coming out to light

has still probably not cleared up for the trooper, and men are opting to not mentor women because of not wanting to risk a false accusation, everyone screams about how rare they are, to which I say so what, why should they assume the risk even if it's minor

Former VP Mike Pence came out and said he won't be alone with a woman that's not his wife in order to ensure that there is no possibility of someone making a claim of impropriety.

And he got this response

Why is anyone going to put their neck on the line when something like what he said is going to get this kind of response.

Maybe instead of crying about how rare false accusations are they should focus on shaming the people making them and coming up with solutions to keep them from happening.

You know instead of blaming the victims of the false accusations.

All this and so much more going on that isn't in this ask goes to the I don't blame people for not having as much sex, it's actually kinda nice too, fewer std's this way.

I went on a couple tangents, hope that's ok

[ragnar0c]

Google photos reminded me that i drew the one on the left 7 years ago even tho it felt like yesterday.

Back then I had used monk 4 as a different character. As different characters. Basically I didn't know what gender I wanted them to be so they had multiple names and genders that changed.

Most prominent one (probably who the left is depicting)

Yugaina... In my old fic she was not part of Ragnarok, but another guild. Guild Machaera. There's a joke about this to me and only me in OoS chapter 1 where Alope says she likes the name Machaera and Enid is actually the one who says they should think of better names.

Yugaina was the leader of the guild. She was around Hana's age in the old fic (15ish) Pretty sure she used she/her but there's a chapter where she Hana and Alope try on dresses and it is not gender for her... so not sure. Yugai was haughty... so haughty she and 15 y/o Hana had a truce and hung out a lot. She was friendly with Alope too but...

She basically spread gossip and a bit in the fic was "If you want to keep a secret never tell guild Machaera" so Alope knew she was being friendly bc she had all the tea.

(Thinking about the dress scene and hrm. I think something gay happened I read the chapter I wrote when I was 12 and yes. It was fruity. Hana is about to go on a date with a boy and Alope basically says to her "I think you'd look cute in a dress... You should wear one, I'll buy it for you!" And Yugai over hears the date bit and goes with them. Alope stops and tells Hana to try on this one dress for her because she thinks she'd look really cute in it 🤨 this isn't the first chapter where Alope non stop calls Hana cute.)

Anyway the Yugai gender part: (Alope used to be named Aoimi in the old fic also cut out whole paragraphs they were filled with nothing sauce)

Tdlr;

Y: "I'm a Tomboy"

A: "Me too."

Y: "No, Alope, I'm the transgender type."

Then there was Yukata. He/ him user I don't know why he was named that of all things. I was 12 when I made him and Yugai (and her name is a bit silly too, it means "Harmful") his whole bit was he always got hurt on accident. I don't remember what guild he was in. I've never drawn him but he existed in my mind.

Then now there's Enid. Finally a girl and a boy and anything between. Enid is a bit like Yugaina. Only a little. Much older but they have heard a lot of gossip... and are extra chummy with Alope because they know stuff about her. Main difference is how Enid feels about Hana vs how Yugai felt about her .

And Yukata too. Enid has a bit where they don't always get hurt but they do ALWAYS start drowning in water.

I can't believe this much time has passed tho. 8 years since the fic. I was really young and I guess I am still.... I guess I can't wait to laugh at my now stuff like I do at this stuff.

[ballpit-bakery]

shout out to minimum wage workers that get possessed gotta be one of my favorite genders

Characters in order: Candie (@idiot-mage-cloudie),K.K (@labratgurlz ), Daniel ( @welpimspooky), William, Ronnie ( @mordi-mord ) and OWO ( @you4-l0cal-1d10t-ar1 ) (hope y'all don't mind the tags lol)

Individual photos + costume info under cut

Candie:

I heard the sentence “sleep deprived moth” and went feral. They deserve a nap and a cozy robe modeled like a moth. They go “snoooreee mimimimi snoooreeee mimimimi” and hold a candle when something bumps in the night. also I saw the white eyeliner and was like mhm yes.

K.K:

Cringe culture is dead and so are they. No idea what eye color they had so I just reversed the 3d glasses colors. Saw that the collar of their jacket was popped up so I did that as well. Also nonbiney swag alert

Daniel:

His bio says that his possession kinda fucked with his aging so I combined the features of an old man and a young adult and we get a 40 year old. Very tired. Accidentally made him extremely short for some reason,,, so whoops. He’s also the most classic edl out of the bunch bc he reads like a 3ds mii (because he’s an old man get it)

William:

He’s not old enough to work in a factory so he gets to work at a diner. He can not escape the diner no matter what universe he’s in.

Ronnie:

He reads to me like he’d like Garfield and jingle about like a fool. I was mainly inspired by the April Fools parody drawing that Mordi did of him. also anytime I drew him in my sketchbook I gave him finger guns so that should mean something right.

OwO:

No idea what color their fur was so I improvised. Also!!! Small!!! You can pick them up by the hood like a kitten!!!! Precious thing!!!!!! They are the void that stares back!!!!!!

[realmadridfamily]

“My father told me: Ana, Davide is from another world, we are people next door.”

When young Ana Galocha (Seville, 1985) drew for hours at her home in Mairena del Alcor, she had no idea how her life would change in 2014. While working at the Shoko nightclub in Madrid, where she had settled six years earlier to become an actress, a friend wanted to introduce her to Davide, the son of Carlo Ancelotti, but she did not show much interest. "I didn't know anything about football. I pictured him as a typical goofball. We started talking and two months later he went to Seville to surprise me. I told him I couldn't stay because I rarely go to Seville because I can't afford it, and when I do, it's with my family. If he wanted to see me, he had to come to my parents' house for dinner. And he came!” Ana explains. Their worlds were polar opposites. Ana's father, an electrician, worked at the Morón de la Frontera air base, and her mother "in factories, picking fruit, olives ...". Davide (Parma, 1989) was a footballer and was already a physical trainer working with his father at Real Madrid. “My father told me: Ana, Davide is from another world, we are people next door. He was afraid I was just a whim of him". But they continued their relationship. "Now my parents defend him more than I do when we fight!" she smiles. Galocha lives discreetly and gets nervous at the beginning of the interview. At the age of 21, she came to Madrid to study Interpretation. “I had a hard time making ends meet. I shared an apartment, worked as a flight attendant, waitress, reporter ... One day my mother came to me, opened the refrigerator and saw that it was empty. She didn't say anything to me, but she started crying again because I had nothing to eat. I was about to give up, but I kept going, and that's how life got me to where I am now." - she says. Today, she still lives in the capital with Davide and her twins, Leo and Lucas, and can do what she has loved most since she was a child: painting. “My photos inspire me. I try to have fun, I try colors, shapes, techniques... I'm self-taught. I graduated from art high school, but I didn't want to go to art because they made me paint with deadlines and what they wanted, which made me lose my love for what I liked the most.” Even though she hasn't exhibited her work yet and has sold a few paintings ("I'm a very bad seller"), she has a waiting list. "It's special when I paint my children, but the most significant drawing was a portrait of my grandfather, which I made in pencil, gave it to him, and he kept it at home until he died." During these eight years he accompanied Davide to Naples, Liverpool, Parma and Munich. “When he was without a team, we lived in my city and he has adapted phenomenally, he is very humble and more urban than me!” she laughs. “He is calm and I am very impulsive. He likes to be at home and I like to go out. He is very shy and I am not at all. But our secret is to trust and respect our spaces.” It's hard for her to remember the exact day of the proposal, which was in 2017. “It was the last day of our holiday in Formentera. We were going to dinner, Carlo (Ancelotti) called us and kept asking about dinner. He was his son's accomplice! We got to the restaurant and there was a flamenco group that I love and that Davide had hired. We had a bottle of wine and he asked me if we could order another. I was surprised because there were two of us. We ask for it and we invite musicians. And there he put a ring on me. I was empty and it took me a while to say yes." - she's joking. Twice they had to cancel the wedding due to the pandemic, and a week before the wedding, Ana showed off her impulsiveness. “I had a wedding dress ready for two years, but I got bored of it. I went to Barcelona alone. I tried one on a mannequin and three days before the wedding they shipped it to my house. Our wedding reception was a great surprise along with the celebration our friends organized for us.” Of course, their families were with them, who experienced this day intensively. "Carlo is a very calm and friendly man. We get along really well. At first it's hard for him to open up, but then ... he loves jokes. He speaks Spanish and Italian, and I don't understand most of them, but I burst out laughing. Besides, he likes flamenco and as a grandfather he is wonderful, although he works a lot and we don't see each other as often as we would like. We go to his house in the summer and he loves to cook pasta for the whole family. He is a great cook.” - says Ana about the coach of Real Madrid. Ana Galocha's future is not yet written. She has many dreams to fulfill. "I'm back in acting and doing a DJ course. I want to enjoy my paintings and I have no great ambitions in this respect.” As for the new movement, he has everything clear. “Davide is not going to China! He really wants to work in teams in Europe, but if he went to China, I would go with him."

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Take this in the spirit of parallel play, because I'd like to play too but I don't think anyone will ask. I'll just be over here...

Someone picked up the camera — an instant later, it became clear this was Marc, and he aimed it at his own face. “Do you see me, Rainbow Alliance, and all my fucked up, traumatized friends? I am a human being with a human life. But they don’t like who I am, so they try to cut it out of my body.” He pointed to the pattern of cracks. “And then they try to cut it out of my brain.” He turned his head from side to side, showing the scars. “And that don’t work either, so they throw me out and try to kill me, but I am still here! This… This mess isn’t who I was, but I am still here! I come from somewhere. I had a family and I loved them! They are gone from me, but I want them back!” He leaned in closer, the lens blurred trying to refocus, and lowered his voice to a snarl, “And if any of you out there can do anything at all about these fucking atrocities — I don’t care how little or how much — you fucking do it. Don’t back down. Don’t quit. If you know about this and you’re not doing everything in your power to make it stop, I hope you die and burn in hell!” A brown hand covered the lens and turned the camera away. The image reset to the original still of a pale, exhausted young man. “Wait,” said Hyacinth. “Damn it.” She tapped the photo again and dragged her finger back and forth, trying to replay the last bit. “Did you see it?” Maggie and Ann shook their heads. “I saw the guy cursing us for trying to take Erik back home,” Maggie said. “You mean him?” “No,” said Hyacinth. “The girl…”

I think that's not too spoilery? I hope?

I am super in-love with Marc's little story, as told through a series of animated photos, and I can't wait to delve into all the implications and work with the character and load him up with all kinds of relationships and UNPACK HIS SHIT. I [heart] trauma, I think I've mentioned that elsewhere today. I also like stories where people change and get better.

I might skip ahead and write what really happened to him, and how they're going to figure it out, just 'cos I like to get that stuff on paper ( heh, "paper") when I'm excited and before I forget. It'll at least wind up in my disjointed notes somewhere.

Unless I fall way behind (due to health issues or other stuff?) I WILL get to Klara this year, too, if only briefly. It'll be awhile before I get to play with her, although I've already written some future stuff where I do:

“All right,” she said. “I’ll give you another shot. Who’s the better Marx, Karl or Groucho?” Erik stabbed the air with a pointed finger. He knew this one! “Oh, Karl, obviously! Uh… Uh… History is a bunch of class struggles! Solidarity forever!” She grinned at him. “Oh, my gods. Are you a literal Marxist? A real live Red Menace — Green Menace, sorry — standing in front of me, no fooling?” Erik took a small step backwards. He managed a nod. “I… I mean… Socialist, at least. I don’t understand how you could live on this planet and be aware of this reality and not be a… a… It just makes sense, doesn’t it?” She extended her hand. “I’m an anarchist, and Karl Marx is a stupid piece of shit.”

And then there's this angst-bomb:

Milo was not — necessarily — checking on Erik. If one drew a three-dimensional map of the [SPOILER! REDACTED!], there were several possible paths to the kitchen for coffee in the small hours, and only one of them went past Erik’s door. And, okay, yes, technically Milo did not have to go to the kitchen for coffee; he could make coffee in his room. He even had some of those prepackaged bodega-style pastries. But… He was used to having a much smaller house and, even though he didn’t like people to sneak up and scare him, he did like to see them sometimes. Even if it was just a peek while they were sleeping to see if maybe they needed a quick tuck-in.

...but you and me are both gonna have to wait a long time to have it in context, and it'll probably change quite a bit by then, for the sake of continuity. Still, the cool stuff that happens in it is gonna happen eventually, like people resolving their incredibly slow-burn romance and other people finding out who their parents are and what they did...

No fandom, all original characters in an original world. Indie. Unpopular. But I'm excited anyway. I like making cool things, and I have non-zero people willing to like them. Not a whole bunch, but non-zero. 🤗

Oh hey writer ask game?? Yay! 🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

And 💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Thank you for the ask!!

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year? (asked by @aicasey as well)

I have a long list of projects, but I don't know if/when I'll feel ready to tackle them, given I also want to finish a few WIPs, like A king's decision, She's not a diamond, and a dream team's shenanigans

However, if I manage to make it to the lists, I'd love to see which one of my projects could serve in the Royai Big Bang anthology!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

I'm translating a Kiki's Delivery Service one-shot I wrote for a Secret Santa back in 2020 on FFnet (Le prix des heures sup'), and I think it might have a better reception in English than in French (it was one of the rare times where my giftee didn't even react to my gift ☹️). So here's a little snippet!

December had come to town, and with it cold, storms, and frost in the streets, the cars, the windows. The first time it happened after Kiki’s arrival, she spent long minutes staring at the frost ferns on the glass, bundled up in a blanket. Later, she couldn’t get tired of looking at the snowflakes falling like feathers in a deafening silence on the ground, the roofs, the trees. Snow didn’t fall often over the city, when Kiki was used to it in her parents’ village. During her childhood, she’d often played in the snow with her friends, fighting in memorable snowball fights and building the tallest snowmen.

Writer goal ask game

[saturnville]

pose.

pairing: andrew!peter parker x black!oc (drew)

warning: none. it’s fluffy.

content: peter asks drew to be his muse for his art portfolio

divider by @firefly-graphics

"Be my muse."

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Drew lowered her eyes to examine herself. Her frame was covered by an old Bon Jovi shirt and baggy sweatpants she stole from a Walmart rack during the summer. Her shoes were busted from constant use, seeing as they were her favorite and the most comfortable of her small collection. Consciously, she patted her curls before pulling one down and testing its spring.

“W-what about the other girl in your art class? The one with the black hair and brown eyes?”

Peter shook his head slowly, uninterested in the other young woman she’d mentioned. He continued to clean the lenses of the camera while facing her, watching as a million thoughts circled through her head. “You’re the only girl with black hair and brown eyes that I’m interested in.”

A sheepish look glossed over her face. “Peter, I’m not the type to be someone’s muse. What do I do?”

“Just sit there and be pretty,” he replied gently with a small smile. Drew cleared her throat awkwardly and nodded. She adjusted her position in the rickety chemistry class stool and shrugged, “Now what?”

“Can I?” Peter gestured toward her, hoping she’d allow him to enter her space. She nodded her head. He placed his camera on one of the tables and took two slow steps toward her. “Relax.” A gentle hand swept over her shoulders, which fell immediately. He took her hands in his and placed them on her thighs. He ignored the zip that ran through his being at the feeling of her lush flesh against his palm.

Drew’s eyes were on him as he brought a shaky hand to her face, brushing away strands of hair that blocked her pretty brown eyes. He smiled at her. “Just relax. No one’s gonna see this but you and me.”

Drew nodded and pushed out a breath. Peter swiped his camera off the table and positioned it before his eye. With one press against the button, a flash erupted throughout the room. Drew gasped and put her hand on her face.

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Sorry, sorry. Okay, again, one, two…”

Drew stared into the camera, trying to do one of those stoic, yet seductive faces she’d seen fellow classmates post on social media. She felt that it wasn’t enough and that she looked awkward trying to force what didn’t come naturally. A series of flashes went off for at least ten more minutes. More poses and more instructions came and the more she grew anxious and uncomfortable.

“Peter—“ she started with a heavy sigh. “I don’t feel…I—“

Peter peeked from behind the camera. “Just one more. Do whatever feels right, okay? Then we’re done.”

Drew twisted her lips but nodded. She was over it, he could tell. From behind the camera, Peter’s insides churned. How could one be so unaware of their angelic aura? He’d never understood. Everything she disliked about herself, he loved. Like the hereditary beauty marks spread across her cheeks, or the faint unibrow that grew back after months of trying to wax it. The small stutter she had when she got excited because her mouth couldn’t keep up with her brain.

“One…two…three.” Flash. Peter pulled the camera away and waited for a moment to examine it. His lips parted and a small breath fell from his lips. He raised his eyes to meet hers, which were glistening with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. But by the pounding of her heart, he knew she was expecting the worst.

In the photo, she had tucked her hands between her thighs and rested her feet atop the bar at the door of the stool. Her head was tilted a few degrees to the right, and for once, she smiled. Not a wide grin with her teeth showing, but one that was simple. The dimple in her left cheek was prominent and she looked as sweet as candy.

“How’s it look?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Beautiful.”

[uomo-accattivante]

Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

[fandomfan2000]

Song analysis #3 God of Loss

here's a link to the Song

this is fanart of @brightgoat​‘s ask blog @askcupsandcasinos​, a few of the photos I drew were HEAVILY inspired by some of the stuff Bright's drawn so please check out the original blog. 

I think this Lyric\song title relates to Mugman because of his whole ‘spade’ aesthetic, as we know, according to Brightgoat and king Dice, spades are often associated with death and loss. The whole ‘God” part of this title is more or less ironic, after Mugmans little break down when he and cups visited Quadratus, we now know that he’s still suffering from PTSD and is looking to achieve something more then a mere mortal should, which as Quadratus stated will only end in his demise. Making the title of “god of loss” a perfect fit for the mug.

more under cut 

“My father was a carpenter My mother, she died young”

These lyrics essentially just talk about Elder Kettle. He was Mugman and Cupheads Parental figure. He may not have been a “carpenter” but I see that line as more saying that he was humble and a hard worker, instilling these qualities into Mugman & Cuphead (well more or less). “My Mother she died young” is rather self explanatory, even though Elder Kettle didn't die young, he did pass away when the boys were relatively young, which was equally crushing to Cups and Mugs as a guardian dyeing young, if not more because they had no one left. 

“I’m the eldest of my brothers You’re the trouble in my blood Trouble in my blood”

this line also feels self explanatory but I’ll explain it any way. 

Its basically just stating facts, Mugman is “technically older” then cuphead “by like, a minute or something”. Aaaand Cuphead is usually seen as the trouble maker f the 2 whos always getting them roped into trouble. Which I think Mugman, just judging by the way he treats Cuphead does believe that cuphead is trouble.

This also refers to how Mugs’ ancestors and his relation to him has and will cause nothing but trouble. 

“I swore that I’d stay humble Like my father was before He built the home I live in Of sand and mud and smoke Sand and mud and smoke “

This line correlate’s to Elder Kettle having been a very simple and kind man and how the boys see him in a good light. It also serve as an ironic statement as we all know Mugmans main sin is pride.

I see this line as more about Elder Kettle and Mugs’ ancestors and their effect on them, how they helped shape and build Mugs into the person he is. It also seems like a reference to the Bible and how Adam, the first human, was created. In the Bible God made him by taking, I think it was dust I'm not sure though, from the ground and created man, which I think is close enough to “Sand & Mud & smoke” to have a correlation as all those things come from the earth. I figured a reference to the Bible was fitting considering the whole ‘heaven and Hell’ theme.

“Yes, we will leave here without a trace Take a new name and an old shape”

This line correlates to Mugmans fear of death...or more a fear of being forgotten and not accomplishing anything notable his life before passing. It also correlates to Elder Kettles death and how he just disappeared, everything and everyone related to him went missing after his death.

the picture I drew is a redraw of Elder Kettles grave from this post.

This line refers to the parallels between Cuphead & Mugman vs The legendary chalice and her mystery friend whos been hinted at a few times. How their personalities kind of line up, Cuphead & Chalice being the more outgoing risk takers and Mugman & mystery cup being the prideful scientist’s. Meaning Cups & Mugs are the “new names” but really thanks to their ancestors giving them their signature soul powers, are living in “old shapes’ so to speak. Did any of that make any sense??? anyway moving on

“I’ll be no outlaw, no renegade Just your faithful god of loss”

(Eheheh this is my favorite verse it fits so well >:D)

So this just refers to 3 of the main 4′s roles (Devil, King Dice, Mugman) and kinda, maybe, sorta Mug mans internal thoughts. King Dice is a well known and respected outlaw\criminal as we know, having been having been “outlawed across half the globe” if I'm remembering correctly. The Devils whole thing is that he’s a renegade, fighting against his fathers oppressive rule to create change... even if what he’s doing is ultimately pointless. Lastly Mugman. The line relating to him I've already touched on but again its and of more ironic if anything. Mug man is simply the “god of loss”. 

“So meet me by the river On a boat-shaped piece of earth We press our bones together And the spider does its work With flakes of garlic And petals from a rose If it’s small enough to carry You and I can call it home You and I can call it home”

okokok theres a lot to cover here ahhhh...  

“So meet me by the river” could hint at the river of souls running through purgatory, not particularly relevant but considering that's were the Chalice is, its an important setting in the story so that makes this line relevant. 

“We press our bones together” could reference just the characters and how their dynamics help progress the story, haha that comparison is kind of a stretch though. “And the spider does its work” I think refers to the devil (you know how his head can shape shift into a spider and all-) and his family and how their busy in the background, doing things mugs doesn't really understand or know of yet, which have the possibility of negatively impacting the brothers.

“If it’s small enough to carry You and I can call it home”

this refers to how the mystical inkwell and indirectly the memories the brother carry of Elder Kettle, allow them to find ‘home’ anywhere as long as their with each other and have their basic necessities met. The inkwell is small & their memories require no space to take with them, along with the fact that if they could utilize the inkwell they could create a home, and whole worlds for themselves.

annnywayy that concludes song analysis #3 hope you enjoyed’

stay tuned for more~ 

[purposefully-lost]

Alex cursed again as the man seemed to rouse. He quickly pulled the rest of the way away, drawing his legs up to his chest to hide himself as an afterthought. He supposed it didn't matter, the man in front of him was bare too, but he hadn't quite worked through the implications of that when their gazes suddenly met.

He was dreaming. He had to be. Alex didn't struggle nor return the hug when he was pulled into a tight embrace, his brows furrkwing while he failed to register the words being spoken to him. He drew in a sharp breath and-- the scent. Wild, yes, and musky, and so much like dog that it almost made him think of Bowser, but blended into it all was.. summer. That's what it made him think of. Late summer nights in kiddie tents in the Campbell's backyard, talking about how they were going to convince their parents to let them all go on a real camping trip together on short notice. His eyes fell shut as he breathed it in, his heart pounding. He didn't think he'd ever vividly smelled anything in a dream.

Rabbit pulled back and their eyes met and he got all the confirmation he needed. Split blue-green eyes, the scar in his lip, the uneven pupils. The dark, curly hair that had so much more grey in it than he remembered, the sweet face in all his old photos matured into a young man. Alex's eyes widened at the name and started to brim with tears. It was a heavy, sharp reminder that he'd never gotten to tell Rabbit his new name, and it was enough to drag him back into reality.

"Jack?" He finally asked, pulled back into another tight hug and this time returning it, his arms squeezing hard around broad shoulders-- shit, when had Rabbit been so broad? They pulled apart again and the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, his hands reaching out to take Rabbit's face just to see if he was real. He glanced down between them, forgetting modesty in favor of realizing they were both bare. Rabbit was bare. Out here, in the woods. And he smelled like dog.

There'd always been that possibility, hadn't there? He hadn't wanted to believe it, it was so farfetched even with what Andy had shared with them, but.. here they were. Alex choked, looking up at his face with wide grey eyes. "Look at me? You- you look--"

His brows furrowed. Alive. He was alive. Jonathan Stone was living and breathing right in front of him. Whimpering, Alex lunged forwards and buried his face in his neck, breaking into a shuddering sob. "Fuck you!" He yelled, though it was muffled by the way he was pressed so hard against Rabbit's skin. "F- fuck you, Jack! You- I- I thought--" He couldn't say it, both because it hurt and because he was too busy crying. Whines left his throat as he curled close to him and sobbed into his neck.

Ears flicking, Rabbit's head lowered as he listened to the sound of a nearby howl. It was the very first time since he'd started this journey that he'd heard the voice of another and knew they were like him. That wasn't an animal; it was a man. Curiosity had him moving first, but it was a strange and familiar scent on the wind that tugged him further. What started as a walk moved to a trot before breaking into a sprint. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, but the moment the scent had settled into his lungs it was like every bone in his body was urging him forward.

Rabbit stopped briefly to smell the air and howled back. He waited briefly for the response and darted, whining as he moved. There was no waiting; the second the small wolf had come into his view, he'd tackled them to the ground and cried as he rubbed and mouthed them. In the very back of his mind, he knew this was a stranger, but every instinct in his body was reaching out for them and completely overwhelmed by their presence. Rabbit howled again and threw his shoulder into the smaller dog, pulling them into a friendly roll. Everything about them felt safe and familiar, like they knew each other and very well. It was impossible, wasn't it? He didn't know he was a werewolf until he tore through his family-- And he certainly didn't know any before that.

His mind briefly flashed images of a young man in a baseball jersey. Andy? No-- Andy had known about wolves and eagerly blabbed to him and Chris the very second his mother had introduced him to the concept, but this wasn't him. Chris. Rabbit snuffled at the wolf's neck and cried, nipping at their legs and bumping at their side. It couldn't be. He'd never mentioned that about himself, and he doubted he'd hide it from them. Maybe it was just him excited to meet someone like himself? Whoever it was, he felt grateful.

@purposefully-lost

[littlesniggy]

Hello there! I'm so excited for getting to ask for more daddy admirals <3 I really wanna ask, what sweet moments they might have had with thier young daughter. Not think about when she is around 5 or so, but still as a toddler. Love your work

Hey Anon! Thanks for this request! It's the last admiral one for a while so please enjoy it!

I really liked the idea so I had fun writing it.

Warnings: none

Characters: Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan

Word count: 900

Sakazuki

The first time he read a bed-time story to his daughter and she fell asleep was probably one of the most memorable for him. To think that he only did it because his partner was busy and their daughter was crying because she was tired and wanted to sleep but mommy couldn’t read to her. He felt awkward in the beginning but seeing how she slowly calmed down and eventually fell asleep made him feel kind of proud of himself.

It’s not really ‘sweet’ but when he taught her some basic self-defense moves like where she should kick or scratch and she actually managed to get him to grunt in ‘pain’. He felt so proud when that, even at such a young age, she could follow his instructions. Needless to say, she got a huge ice cream afterwards.

When she drew her first picture for him. It was ugly as hell but he more than appreciated it. I mean, he’s a monster but not always a heartless monster. He took it with him to work to his office and it’s still there to this day. Nowhere on display for everyone to see but in his top drawer so whenever he opens it he gets reminded of it.

When she told him “Daddy I love you” randomly before going back to playing whatever she was playing. He was caught off guard and it took a while for him to comprehend this short and simple sentence but it made his whole day. Not that he was showing it though! That’s strictly for him!

Borsalino

Dancing and singing for him when she asked him to watch her “concert”. She made him sit in the armchair, ran out the room and then came back with a big entrance. And a big entrance means a lot of self-cut confetti, colored herself poorly with crayons with a lot of parts still white. And then she started singing some random shit with made-up words and just moved clumsily to the “rhythm”. He loved it. He didn’t love cleaning up afterwards though.

When she made her first snarky/inappropriate comment. She probably didn’t think anything of it since, probably, in her mind it made sense. But to him it was gold! His wife was mad at him since she believed that he taught it to her but he’s never done anything like that (tbh he wanted to teach her some stuff when he was older though). Needless to say, he taught her some things even sooner.

Borsalino is a pretty chill man so his daughter can do to him whatever she wants. And she chose to use mommy’s make-up to “make him pretty”. He got poked into his eyes multiple times, got lipstick into his mouth, his cheek, the collar of his shirt – everywhere. In the end, he looked worse than a clown but his little daughter thought it looked pretty so he just had to agree with her. There is still a picture of it somewhere in the depths of some drawer, buried beneath multiped other photos.

Eating miso ramen together. The first time he introduced miso ramen to her and he watched her face lighten up at the taste was priceless. She looked like she’d never eaten anything like this before. That was the moment when he realized that she would turn out great.

Kuzan

Similar to Borsalino is Kuzan a pretty chill father who lets his daughter to a lot of shenanigans. So, when she asked him if she could to his hair for the day he didn’t hesitate to say yes. She didn’t even try to be gentle, saying that mommy always did it like this. She pulled his hair to the point where he got tears in his eyes. He’s sure that he lost most of his hair that day but it was worth it seeing his daughter being happy. Legend has it that he still finds little butterfly hair clips in his hair to this day.

The first time his daughter helped him cook something simple was quite memorable for him. He loved seeing her so attentive while he gave her simple instructions like “shake the salt twice” or “put all the onions in”. She must’ve felt so proud when it was finally done, telling her mom that she helped daddy make it. Ever since then, whenever Kuzan is cooking something, she helps him.

Going to a marine summer festival with lots of food and drinks and music and things to win….especially things to win. She wants to play everything and she wants to have every price! The first times she couldn’t even hit the cans with the ball (she just had not enough strength) and asked daddy to help her. And of course he did. And a second time. And another. And another. Until they left with a happy daughter and many many plush toys. Daddy is an admiral. Daddy has enough money…

Whenever it’s snowing outside and Kuzan is at home she wants to go outside and build a snowman with him. He’s taught her how to do it properly so the ball doesn’t fall apart and she follows his instructions perfectly. When it becomes to heave, Kuzan takes over. And since he’s a big man, the body parts of the snowman will be big as well. They build the biggest and best snowmen anyone has ever seen and afterwards mommy rewards them with some hot chocolate.

[tainted-wine]

Caring For Your Hormonally-Charged Bird

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(I didn’t mean for this to turn into a monster with over 7k words, but I finally finished it. This is based off of my mutant headcanons and also takes some inspiration from user kazooli’s awesome thirst posts about Hawks. Happy Springtime, everyone!)

Edit: Now there’s a Part 2!

------------------------------

The songs of lovestruck birds rang across the streets. Freshly bloomed cherry blossoms rained petals down onto the pavement. Butterflies and bees hovered around the flourishing flowers. It was undoubtedly a beautiful day. Too bad you had to spend it in an office with an oncoming headache. A familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Wow, look at that. I don’t know what’s more gorgeous; the scenery outside or the lady staring at it.”

Hawks’s charm doesn’t affect you when he has pissed you off so many times in such a short span.

You’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working for the Hero Public Safety Commission for several years, from supporting public events to endless desk work. The pay was generous and life was overall more comfortable. All you had to do to stay on their good side was comply with every demand, ignore the condescending tones of the bigwigs, and turn a blind eye whenever you witnessed the occasional sketchy practice.

When they offered you a job as the personal handler of one of the top heroes of Japan, you almost fainted. You have always been a fan of Hawks. Fast, handsome, charismatic, he may not have the godly strength of All Might, yet he still felt just as flawless. You’ve been helping and guiding the winged young man since last summer and learned that he’s even more than what you imagined. He wasn’t just good-looking, he wasn’t just a sweet-talker…

He was also a fucking nightmare to work with.

You turned around to see said man ogling you a bit more than you were used to, his trademark crooked smile on his face, but you ignored that and went straight to business. “Your carelessness is trending again for the third time this week, Hawks.”

He drew a sharp breath in an exaggerated gasp. “Again? Oh, what could they possibly be on my ass for this time? Was I smacking on chicken wings too loudly in public? Did they catch the moment I almost flew into that crystal-clear window?”

You whipped out your phone, already prepared to show him a news page with a rather shocking photo. A man with an elegant and sleek appearance was beaten and bruised, his dazzling peacock tail fanned out behind him. The attacker was none other than Hawks, who was gripping the other man by the collar, his wings fully spread out with several sharpened feathers floating around his victim as an unnecessary precaution. It was a very aggressive display.

‘HAWKS LAYS SMACKDOWN ON PERVERTED PEACOCK’ was the headline.

“This is beyond excessive force. You could have just as easily restrained him with your quirk.” You scolded, fixing him with the steely authoritarian stare that you’ve been working on.

Hawks flinched, but you couldn’t tell if he was just playing with you or not. “Ma’am! I was simply defending the girl’s honor! She was very clearly uncomfortable and besides, wouldn’t flashing his tail like that be considered indecent exposure?” Yeah, that tone told you that he was clearly not intimidated.

“No, and even if it did, indecency and harassment wouldn’t excuse such a violent subduing. Furthermore,” you gestured at his threatening wing display in the photo. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were demonstrating similar behavior.”

He simply shrugged. “Just showing him who the bigger bird is around here.”

Your eye twitched. “For God’s sake, Hawks, you’re not an animal. Part of my job is ensuring that you maintain a friendly image that will keep the public at ease. This is not friendly. Shall I go through some of the comments for examples?” You scrolled down and cleared your throat in preparation. “Anyone else put off by how violent Hawks looks here? I didn’t know he had it in him to beat someone down like that. He’s usually all about being quick and efficient.” You scrolled down to the next one. “What’s the deal with Hawks? I was there and it was like watching a cockfight.” You clicked on a reply to that particular comment. “I know, right? I always wanted to meet Hawks in person, but after that, I was honestly too scared to-”

“Hold on, babe, I know you’re cherry-picking here,” Hawks, the little bastard, had taken out his own phone while listening to your reading. “Because those are nothing like my personal faves that I found on my Tweeter page.” You watched with silent frustration as his eyes scanned his phone until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go. ‘Oh my GAWD, that look, those spread wings, he looks like such a beast!” He had raised the pitch of his voice for a mock feminine tone. “Leave it to Hawks to make all of us women feel safe. That pervert deserves to lose a few more teeth.’ Oh, and here’s the winner right here. ‘Just as I always expected, that hunk of a bird knows how to dominate. I can just imagine him towering over me, giving that same look while I take his big fat-”

“Hawks.”

He paused, but his shit-eating grin didn’t fade when he noticed your head being held in one of your hands. You hoped he didn’t notice that you were trying to hide the red that crept into your cheeks.

“…cock.”

You groaned loudly enough to most definitely be heard outside of the office. There truly were days when he would cut you some slack and be easy to deal with, but he has become downright unbearable for the past few weeks. His teasing has increased ten fold, yet he’s also been keeping his distance from you for whatever reason. It had taken you a while to notice, but he was normally more than happy to get in your face and ruin your professional act, but now, even when you’re the one trying to approach, he would casually step back to prevent the gap between you from closing.

And then it hit you.

Shit, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to connect the dots. You had even noticed how his wings appeared to be a shade brighter for the past few days, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. No, he had grown in his spring plumage.

“Uh, babe? You still there? Did the ‘C’ word break you?” Watching you stare into space was getting him a little concerned.

“You’re rutting,” was your simple reply.

Hawks’s face flashed into something more serious for a split second before giving a ‘tsk’ and looking away. “Took you long enough,” he scoffed. “Surprised the Commission hasn’t fired you for letting me go wild for so long. They must not have any replacements available right now.”

“Watch it,” you ordered. You pondered for a moment before asking, “Have you not been taking your hormonal medication? I know that you’ve been prescribed some for this time of year.”

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, as if he was the one who should be feeling annoyed right now. Bitch, please. “Sometimes,” he muttered.

“Sometimes? They don’t work if you only take them sometimes, Hawks. I know you’re a busy hero, but you can put some effort into keeping track of your dosage.”

“Look,” it was the first time you’ve seen a genuine scowl on his face, the expression taking you back. “I just really hate that stuff, okay? They sap all of my energy and I put on a few extra pounds.”

You shook your head at his complaints. “Is that really worse than what you’re dealing with right now?”

“Yes. I’d rather be a horndog than a slug that doesn’t even have the will to move. It wouldn’t even be so bad if I could just sleep around every now and then, but that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t wanna make your job that miserable.” He eyed you up and down for a minute, while you tried not to shy away from his piercing gaze. “Or I could find just one loyal partner that will help me scratch the itch?”

You stepped back, your heart racing at the unspoken request. “E-excuse me?” you stuttered.

Hawks raised his hands harmlessly. “Hey now, it’s just a suggestion. I’m pretty into you, you’re obviously into me, this could work out pretty well.”

An array of emotions were flowing through you, but you were more upset than anything else. “And what exactly makes you think I’ve been ‘into you’, as you’ve said?” Denial. You’re pretty sure that’s what this is. You know that you’ve been attracted to him since before you even met, but you weren’t going to let this overgrown brat have his way.

His sudden burst of laughter startled you. “You’re kidding, right? I still remember that look you had the first time we were in this room together, and it wasn’t the innocent ‘I wanna support my favorite hero’ look,” He was willingly approaching you for the first time in what felt like forever, every step sounding like thunder to your ears. “It was a ‘bend me over the desk and fuck me’ look.”

You were the one stepping back this time. You wanted to remind him not to use such foul language, to berate him for making such vulgar claims, but your voice was caught in your throat.

“We’d be doing each other a favor, right?” he continued, wings slowly expanding. “Keeping me in top shape is part of your job, isn’t it? I promise you that I’m gonna feel a lot better after this.”

You bumped into his desk, leaning back slightly as he finally closed the distance. His wings draped around each side of you, filling your peripheral vision with pure red. His face was only inches away from yours as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“You’ve been smelling so damn good lately. Been afraid that I just might pounce you if I get too close.”

A thickly gloved hand reached out and cupped your face with such a surprising amount of tenderness, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel bare. You were so entranced by his lustful gaze that you couldn’t find it in you to resist as he leaned in, feeling his hot breath as his lips drew closer to yours.

The door busted open accompanied by a shout. “Hawks sir! Your help has been requested at-OH!”

A genuine growl rumbles through Hawks’s throat and damn, that makes you tremble. By the time he turns toward the stumbling sidekick, he was already back to his cool and friendly self.

“Don’t stop on my account, buddy,” he beamed the younger man with an unwavering smile. “What’s the request?”

———

The next day, you tried very hard to pretend that little office incident never happened. You were not going to let something so unprofessional ever happen again. That was a promise.

Hawks, on the other hand, was being a persistent bastard. You were determined to win this battle. If he wanted the urges to go away so badly, then he can take his damn medication like he always has, not use your lack of authority and experience as an excuse to rebel. The only reason you haven’t informed the Commission about this is because you know that your head will be on the chopping block as well as Hawks’s. You will most definitely be in some shit once they realize that you can’t keep their most prized possession in check.

And to be fair, as the week went on, you really were wondering if you were cut out for this job. With his wings getting more vibrant, his advances becoming more frequent, and his feral rivalry against other men growing more severe, Hawks has officially become too unruly for you to handle, and you’re the goddamned handler. You couldn’t lose this job! What if they terminated you completely and you couldn’t get another position from the Commission?

You paced back and forth in the empty office. Hawks was late this morning, leaving you alone with your endless worries. He may act lazy, but he was never actually late for his meet ups. Looks like you’ll have to call him and pray that nothing serious has happened.

You jumped when your phone vibrated before you even reached into your pocket. Ah, looks like Hawks reached out before you did. You held your phone up, prepared to answer, and froze.

It wasn’t Hawks. It was the deputy, the very man that was kind enough to give you this job. He hasn’t called you since your first few days here to help get you started. With your progress, you doubt he was calling to give you a raise.

Well, as much as you wanted to throw the phone out of the window and find an appropriate place to bury yourself, you didn’t make it this far by cowering from these guys. Taking a deep breath, you picked up and greeted the man on the other side with a steady voice. “Good morning, Deputy.”

He addressed you with the same bored and unimpressed tone that you hear from every member in this cursed organization. Jeez, if you keep working here long enough, are you going to eventually sound as soulless as them? “I assume you are aware of Hawks’s current condition?” he asked.

Dammit. “My apologies, sir. I know that I have been neglectful of Hawks’s health and his behavior during this time. I have been doing my best t-”

“That isn’t the issue I am talking about, but thank you for confirming that you have indeed failed in keeping Hawks’s unsavory habits under control.” You flinched. Way to rat yourself out. “Hawks had managed to find and subdue the troublesome villain Libido.”

“Ah, of course. I have been informed of that, sir.” Libido was a cunning little criminal that has been causing trouble all over the city of Fukuoka. His ‘Love Breath’ quirk gave him the ability to exhale fumes with powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. The guy even made his own gas bombs, releasing them among unsuspecting crowds in the public. He was less of a villain and more of just a chaos-loving hoodlum that was too slippery for his own good.

The deputy carried on. “One of the sidekicks has told us that Hawks was exposed to his quirk.”

Oh. Oh dear. That’s some strong stuff to be subjected to.

“We have ordered Hawks to go home immediately and wait patiently instead of heading to a hospital. We will be sending treatment his way.”

Some of the tension left your body. “That’s good to know, sir. May I ask what kind of treatment he will be taking? I know I haven’t convinced you yet, but I want to do anything I can for his well being.” You hesitantly asked. Please, oh please let me make up for everything that has been happening.

You heard a faint chuckle from the other end. “That’s very good to know, because the treatment is you.”

You’re glad he couldn’t see the confusion on your face. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying I’ll be the one to doctor him? I’ll need to know what medicine he needs and how much rest he’ll be expected to-”

“Do you know how people affected by aphrodisiac quirks are normally treated?” he interrupted you for the second time. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before continuing. “Given your questions, I’m assuming that you don’t. We can indeed offer drugs to weaken the effects, but Hawks will still be in great distress and will take a long time to recover, especially since he’s neglected to take his hormone medication with the help of an incompetent handler.” Ugh, you get it already. You screwed up. “But the quickest and most efficient remedy is, without a doubt, sexual contact and allowing the quirk to run its course. That is what we expect you to provide for him.”

What.

You took a full minute to collect your thoughts and ensure that you heard everything correctly. The deputy waited patiently. How kind of him. Once you gathered yourself, you conjured the most constructive response you could think of.

“Huh?”

An overly loud sigh sounded in your ear. Hey, it’s his fault for dropping this bomb of a request on you. “We can’t have the number two hero out of action for too long. The alternative is to strap him to a bed and sedate him for an uncertain amount of time. His rut has enhanced the quirk’s effects; this may even strengthen his arousal for the rest of the season.”

Your face paled. That sounds ten times worse than the way Hawks was already acting. “So, if I were to…be with him,” you blushed at the very thought. “That would provide the best relief?”

“That is the gist of it. You told me you would do anything for Hawks’s well being. Can I hold you to that?”

Your pounding heart was almost drowning out his voice. You didn’t mean to corner yourself like this. “O-of course. I’ll see what I can, um, do.” This discussion was getting uncomfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant. You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.” He laughed at his own joke. You sure as hell weren’t laughing with him.

“Yeah, of course, sir,” you grumbled. “I suppose I shouldn’t leave Hawks alone for too long. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You’ll need to take some precautions, of course. Here’s what you need to keep in mind…”

———

You walked out of the local pharmacy, cradling the pills tightly to your chest like some sort of security blanket. The deputy’s advice echoed in your head.

“It’s best that you take contraceptives. Hawks’s mind will be clouded with feral cravings, such as the urge to breed. He is not going to accept condoms.”

You tossed the pills onto the passenger seat in your car.

“Again, Hawks is suffering from both the magnified effects of Libido’s quirk and his annual rut. It’s possible that he will not be of sound mind. If things get out of hand, you have the right to protect yourself.” the deputy paused for a moment. “Just try not to leave any marks on him, if you can. Hawks must look presentable at all times.”

Well, you did have a stun gun that you thankfully never had to use, and hopefully it will stay that way.

The deputy’s help made you way more anxious than before. Were you about to have sex with a horny man, or tame a dangerous beast? You still didn’t know what to make of this predicament.

You take your phone and select Hawks’s number. It’s probably best not to surprise him at his door. Hopefully he wasn’t too riled up and ignores your call.

The phone rings once, then twice, then you hear…whimpers? Shit, was it getting that bad?

“Hawks? Are you there?” you asked calmly.

“Babe.” Goodness, his voice was rough. He sounds like he just ran across the country. “Oh thank God. Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Wha—no.” This was a mistake. You really weren’t prepared for such levels of horniness. He just blurted that out like it was nothing! “Look, um, I heard your urges are becoming too much to handle. I’m heading on over there to…help you.”

For a while you just heard what sounded like breathless laughs and weeping. Hearing him in such a fragile state had you genuinely concerned. “Y’serious? We’re-ah-we’re gonna fuck?” He was panting heavily between words.

Heat was gathering in your face. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Get over here-fuck-so I can stuff you, babe. You’re gonna be mine. Oh I can’t wait to fucking have you.” This sounded like a goddamned porno and you couldn’t handle it. There was a strange sound in the background as he rambled, something like wet smacks. You kept hearing it in sync with his grunts and…

Oh.

“Just hang in there, alright?” You said quickly, wanting to end this call right now. “I’m coming.”

“Well, I’m not. My hand’s really not doin’ it for me. Gotta be inside you, babe. Gotta cum in that tight-“

You hung up.

You banged your head against the steering wheel harder than intended, but at least the pain got your mind off of…whatever all of that was. You can’t believe you just heard your favorite hero breathlessly talking about how he wants to bang you while jerking off. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this mortified, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the tingle between your legs.

Hawks, one of the top heroes of Japan, the heartthrob of the generation, was lusting for you. It had you both excited and on edge. You remember the deputy’s comment.

“You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.”

You probably would indeed be thrilled if the circumstances were less dire. Your fantasies normally involved something simpler and more romantic, not saving him from his own sex-hazed mind. You still weren’t sure what you were walking into, and that was admittedly a different kind of excitement.

There was no time to waste with the state Hawks was in. Calming your nerves, you started your car and began taking the route to his place.

———

Here you are, at the doorstep of Hawks’s house. His place was surprisingly humble for a top hero, it made this encounter just a little less nerve-wracking. Pressing a finger to the buzzer, you waited anxiously, rocking back and forth on your heels. You really hope he’ll be dressed decently when he answers the door.

Your heart skips once you hear a click and the doorknob twists. It feels like it takes an eternity for the door to open and reveal…nobody.

Instead, you were greeted by a small flock of feathers suspended in the air. They slowly floated a distance away from you before stopping, as if they were waiting for something. You cautiously stepped inside, some of the feathers closing the door behind you. You don’t know what type of welcome you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. The feathers guided you, drifting up a flight of stairs and into a room with its door hanging open. You can hear harsh breathing inside, reigniting your fear. “Hawks?” You hesistantly called out without getting any closer.

A cracking voice cried out your name. “Help me. It fucking hurts. I’m so hot. Make it stop.” He sounded like he was crying. The desperate pleas prompted you to mask your fears for the umpteenth time and approach the room, taking in the sight of the man that has been waiting for you.

Hawks was naked, not to your surprise, but still to your absolute horror. He sat on his bed, skin glistening with sweat and a deep blush spreading throughout his upper body, making him look more feverish than aroused. His chest heaved with the irregular breaths that left his hanging mouth. His hair was even more unruly as usual, some of his locks sticking to his damp face. Your eyes locked onto his, pupils dilated and looking right through you.

He looked awful.

You came closer, trying your best not to stare at the very swollen and throbbing member between his legs. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, stopping right in front of him. “I didn’t think it would get this bad. I-I want to help. Just tell me what to do.”

He was on his feet the moment you finished, nude body just inches away from yours, but you kept your feet planted where they were. As his large wings slowly opened and enclosed around you, you noticed how brilliantly hued his feathers have become, practically glowing a vivid scarlet. It was captivating.

Two clammy hands came up to hold your face, the same hands he was furiously pleasuring himself with just a moment ago holy shit, and his mouth was on yours before you could even react. You gasped in shock of it all, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. It was less of a kiss and more of just him hungrily ravaging every inch of your mouth, your own tongue wrestling with his to keep him away from the back of your throat. One of his arms lowered to wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his bare form, making you yelp when you felt his erection pressing against you. Hawks’s dick was on you.

You were too overwhelmed by his restless mouth and his DICK to notice the stray feathers hovering over you. A tug and a loud rip made you jolt. Hawks held you still, the sound of expensive fabric tearing making you flinch as your skin was slowly being exposed. The feathers were shredding your clothes.

You pulled away from his suffocating mouth just enough to take a breath and attempt to speak. “Hawks! Wha—” only for him to smother you once again.

“Don’t move,” he uttered between kisses. “Don’t want to cut you.”

With a few more slashes, your cherished suit was now scattered on the carpet in tatters, revealing your body to him, but the feathers weren’t done. The floating blades carefully slid under your panties and bra. You stood completely still, Hawks kissing you with less aggression in an attempt to soothe you as the feathers sliced through the last of your clothes. You were now just as bare as him. He simply held you tightly, face rubbing against yours with the occasional lick against your heated skin. Your eyes were closed shut, unable to process his frantic tongue, his surrounding body that felt like fire, his cock that was now pressed to your stomach you were going to drop dead holy shit.

“Smell so good. Tastes so good.” he groaned, still sounding short of breath. His mouth went down to your neck, sucking at it hungrily and giving the occasional nip, forcing a faint moan out of you. He continued his descent and reached your breasts, molding them roughly and attacking your nipples with hard sucks. Despite the rough treatment, a tight heat was building up in your abdomen, your hands cradling his head as he explored you. He ventured lower, now on his knees with his face right at your womanly mound.

Your heart was pounding when he leaned in, his nose lightly touching you as he drew in a long breath and giving a pleased sighed. His nose pressed in further and poked at your glistening pussy, your thighs clenching in surprise while he happily took in your scent. Fuck, he was really just kneeling between your legs and smelling you. You were ready to protest and tell him that this was getting too embarrassing before something wet and hot slid against your folds, replacing your planned words with a yelp.

Hawks apparently approved of your taste, strong hands grasping the back of your thighs as he brought you in closer to fully devour you. Your cries were impossible to hold in while he lapped at you, mind becoming too clouded with pleasure to stay modest. He moaned loudly into you, the erotic sound vibrating against you, tongue fondling every inch of your folds before his lips closed around them, sucking greedily and almost making your knees collapse. You were getting close, grasping onto his head in a desperate attempt to stay balanced, his mouth now assaulting your sensitive bud. Your blissful whimpers joined the filthy sounds of his feasting when your orgasm washed over you like throbbing magma. Once your legs lost the last of their strength, Hawks set you down gently on the floor, still licking your sensitive lips.

“Ah, Hawks…too much…” You whined weakly.

He got the message and pulled away to immediately climb over you, giving you a clear view of his face glistening with your juices. Bright wings were fully spread out once more; it feels like you were about to be taken by an angel, the most savage angel you could ever imagine.

He came down for a sloppy kiss, spreading your own womanly nectar all over your lips. “Hope you’re nice and ready now. Ready to take everything I’ve got.” He mumbled against your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile and feel grateful that even in such a frenzied state, he was still kind enough not to jump you the moment you were within sight.

You brought a hand up to caress the side of his face, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch like the needy animal that he was at the moment. His body was still unnaturally hot and he was still breathing harshly. It’s time to finally give this poor man some relief.

“Go ahead, Hawks. I’m all yours.” You were indeed ready for everything he has.

Hawks said no more, gripping himself and aiming right for your opening. The moment his head was pushing past your lips, he thrust forward, filling you completely and knocking the wind out of you.

You honestly thought he came right then and there with the totally profane howl that left him. “Fuck…!” he choked, looking on the verge of tears. Despite the seemingly paralyzing pleasure, he wasted no time in moving, his pace quickening at an alarming rate. Your pussy was still sensitive from his wonderful licking, his dick currently sending painfully powerful shocks that you just weren’t ready for, and yet heat began to pool within your core for a second time. Your arms were wrapped around his sweaty form, nails biting into his skin and forcing rugged grunts out of his throat.

The wet slaps of your bodies rang throughout the room, your limbs quivering as he pumped into you faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, full and prepared to pour every drop of its contents into your womb. Hawks had buried his head into the crook of your neck, letting you feel every breathless moan right against your ear.

All you could do was hold on and take the increasingly rough pounding. His rhythm was sloppy from the start, but the thrusts were becoming even more irregular as a sign that he was already reaching his peak. Not surprising, given the state that he’s been in all day. One well-aimed thrust hits your sweet spot, making you moan loudly against him.

The sound eggs him on, driving his hips at a bruising pace and fuck it feels so good it hurts. Your eyes shut tightly as another orgasm breaks free, your feminine walls clamping around Hawks, squeezing his own climax out of him. You gasped at the powerful throbs of his cock as it shot out stream after stream of cum inside you. The purely animalistic growl that rumbled through him had you shaking in the best way while you watched his wings twitch and flap, hitting you with a light gust.

After an impressive amount of spurts, Hawks collapsed on top of you. He was heavy, but having his weight on you like this was pretty nice. You rubbed soothing circles around his back, listening to the rather inhuman cooing sounds he made in response.

You just had sex with Hawks, your favorite hero and the very man you were paid to look after. Oh man, how badly have you screwed up your relationship? Not that you two had much of a bond in the first place, but now things will most certainly get even more awkward.

A twitch inside you interrupted your thoughts. What the hell? Hawks’s breathing was accelerating again as he suddenly lifted his weight off of you, and that’s when you realized even though he came, he was still hard.

With newfound energy, he pushed your thighs towards your chest and rammed into you before you could even register what was happening. His new angle had you seeing stars with each thrust, hitting you even deeper than before. The sensation was dizzying, your overstimulated body beginning to throb all over. Hawks had the most obscene expression on his face, glazed eyes watching your tits bounce while his mouth hung open, drool trailing down his chin. You didn’t know such a look existed outside of adult videos, and having it aimed at you was enhancing your stinging pleasure.

Looking down granted you the view of his drenched dick pushing into you, each slam of his hips rocking you into the carpet, which honestly burned like ouch. Thankfully Hawks was reaching his tipping point once again, his hips moving at a bruising pace before one final smack. You were spoiled with another wonderful image of his head thrown back as a choked moan escaped him, another round of cum shooting into you.

He finally slid out of you as he sat back to catch his breath, wings limply dropping to his sides. Finally. You didn’t know how much more your womanhood could take. The strain of moving your legs made you wince. Did he have to pin you so roughly?

Hawks watched silently as you pushed yourself up. You felt behind your back and…dammit, you really did bruise back there. Maybe you should go find a mirror; hopefully it didn’t look too bad. You noticed that Mr. Horny Wings continued to just stare, pupils still enlarged and his dick was still hard what the fuck. He suddenly shifted onto all fours and crawled behind you. The light brush of fingers over your blemished skin made you shiver. They weren’t big enough to be that painful, but you still hissed when he applied a little too much pressure, making him pull away.

“Sorry.” His voice was still raspy as he apologized.

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Could’ve been wor—AH!”

Hawks shoved you forward, manhandling you until you were properly on your hands and knees. Fuck, your entire lower body was starting to ache, and here he was, ready to go another round. The head of his still-swollen dick was already pressing at your entrance. Grasping your hips, he pushed past your puffy lips and re-entered your heat. You bit your bottom lip and took the limitless strength in his hips, his balls sometimes smacking right into your clit and bringing you closer to your next climax.

His pace slowed down briefly in order to lower himself and suck at your bruises. “Nnngh, fuck, Hawks!” The combined pain and pleasure had your insides burning. He moaned and panted into your back, kissing up to your neck and sucking there as well. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso, pressing your body against his in an intimate embrace as he plunged into you more deeply.

It was impossible to not moan after each stroke. His face rested on your shoulder, and you reached behind to bury a hand in his hair. Shit, this was all getting so intimate. He was holding you and was so close, you could feel the ripple of his muscles as he caressed every inch of your inner walls. Your third burst of pleasure had you quivering against him as he continued to chase his own orgasm, stars appearing in your vision with each thrust. Hawks sank his teeth into your neck before bottoming out and releasing more cum inside you.

Both of you were lost in your sensual spasms before you collapsed. Hawks didn’t lay on you completely this time, his sweat-soaked form crouched over you, close enough to still be inside of you…

And rock hard.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You stayed as you were, your face down and your ass up, as you felt him humping away at you again. You could barely whimper as your tender pussy took another pounding. Christ, why wasn’t he getting tired? If the quirk was getting any closer to wearing off, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t long before he came again, grunting with each hard buck as he filled you with his apparently endless supply of cum. Was he done? Please be done. You turned your head just enough to check the state of his erection.

Nope.

Hawks had enough mercy to carry you to his much more comfortable bed before continuing. He took you again.

And again

And again.

You were positively ruined, no more strength left in your body as he repeatedly claimed you with fervor. Whenever it appeared you were getting uncomfortable in a certain position, he would simply switch things up before carrying on. Despite how utterly exhausted and raw you felt, your orgasms kept coming, every surge of pleasure clouding your mind more and more.

You had lost track of time. Was this his fifteenth go? seventeenth? Keeping count was becoming a drag. It didn’t help that Hawks was in too much of a trance to even speak, giving you nothing but moans and growls. At least he didn’t sound on the verge of tears anymore, so maybe he was making progress.

Another orgasm was approaching; could your tired body even handle it? You were laying on the edge of the bed as Hawks stood and fucked you. Even through all of the overwhelming passion, you never got tired of staring at his wings, the dazzling red never failing to mesmerize you. They fluttered rapidly as the tension in your core spilled over, your mouth opening in a silent scream and a blackness closing in on you with every blink.

Your body was finished.

———

Everything hurts.

That’s the first thing you noticed when you woke up and made the mistake of stretching. Your arms and legs ached, a sharp pain shot through your back whenever you shifted, and between your legs…well, the throb down there didn’t at all feel pleasurable anymore.

Still, you fought the pain to sit up and examine yourself. Your nether regions were surprisingly clean, almost as if someone had already taken care of it. With all of the cum Hawks pumped into you, it should frankly be an awful mess down there.

Speaking of, where was the guy?

“Hey.”

Oh, there he was leaning in the door frame. He had obviously tidied up, no longer a flushed and sweaty wreck, and was now sporting a pair of loose pants and a tee. You had never seen him looking so casual. It was probably a privilege very few had, and knowing that ignited something in your chest.

He glanced around before looking back at you. “You alright?”

Realizing you were just gawking at him and haven’t said anything yet, you coughed to ensure your voice was still clear and functioning. “I’m fine.”

He snickered. It was a sound you were used to whenever he knew he had the upper-hand in some way, but something about it felt softer this time. “I just fucked you into high heaven for a whole day.” He could’ve acknowledged it in a less shameless manner, dammit. “I just wanna know if you’re alright. You look pretty stiff.”

A jolt shot through your lower back in perfect timing with his statement, making you flinch. “Yeah, I’m—I’m pretty sore. Very sore,” you admitted.

“Ah,” He stood up straight. “I’ll go get some, uh, pain relief. Be right back.” And with that, he was out of your sight.

You waited patiently for his return, actually observing his bedroom for the first time. It was surprisingly bare, the room of someone who didn’t spend much time at home. There was a window that you didn’t notice and holy shit he was right. It was nighttime; you spent the entire day in Hawks’s bedroom. The fangirl in you was squealing in delight. You told her to shut the hell up.

The man returned with a glass of water in one hand, a pill in the other, and a set of clothes draped across his arm. “Here,” he handed the water and medicine over before sitting beside you on the bed. You gulped down the capsule, sputtering a bit as the cold water flowed down your dry throat. “I’ve got some clothes that might fit you well enough. Sorry about your suit. I’ll give you some money for a new one.”

He’s never sounded so wooden before and you couldn’t stand it. You let out your best good-hearted laugh as you took the offered clothes. “Stop that, Hawks. You sound as bland as your bosses right now,” you joked.

He laughed along with you. “Heh, sorry babe. Just worried that I came on a little too strong at the beginning there.”

You simply hummed in response. His clothes were so warm and smelled like him. Despite being surrounded by his strong scent for hours, you still welcomed it.

“So…looks like you’re feeling better.” You took in his appearance again now that he was closer. There was still a tinge of red in his face, but he seemed overall back to his usual relaxed self.

“Oh yeah, much better. The feeling’s still there, honestly,” he saw your eyes widen and instantly blurted out, “Just barely! I can ignore it and think clearly just fine now.” A boyish smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’ve got a hero. You really saved me back there.”

A ridiculous snort left you after hearing such praise. “Is that all it takes to be the great Hawks’s hero? I’m flattered.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” He looked you square in the face, and you couldn’t look away from his sincere expression. “It’s never been that bad before. Not gonna lie, I’m embarrassed you saw me like that. That was worse than all of my teenage ruts combined. Damn villain’s quirk really messed me up, felt like I was going fucking rabid. I don’t know what state I’d be in if it weren’t for you.”

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to respond to his gratitude. “You’re welcome,” was all you could say. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s…” You looked down at your feet. “It’s not like I didn’t like it. It was very draining, honestly lost track of time at a certain point, but it, uh, it was an experience.”

Hawks nodded in response. “Sure was. Never thought I’d rail a girl so hard and for so long that she’d pass out. I’m impressed with myself.”

“Hawks.”

He hung his head in mock shame. “My apologies, ma’am! I completely forgot that such vulgar language isn’t tolerated around you.” And there’s the infuriating grin that you were beginning to miss.

Both of you were laughing, slowly melting away the tension and stress that filled the room since morning. This…this was nice.

“So, you probably still don’t feel all that great, sooo…” Hawks rubbed at the back of his neck. “You wanna stay for dinner? Already ordered a chicken pizza with some wings.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows. “Taking me to dinner after the sex?”

“Hey now, you know me. ‘The hero who’s too fast for his own good.’ Sometimes I miss a step or two.” He winked before getting up to leave. “You just lay there and rest, and go pee already. Don’t need an infection on top of everything else you’re going through. I already cleaned up the horrifying scene between your legs.”

You shuddered at the crude comment before falling backwards onto the poor mattress that had endured so much today.

Tomorrow, it will be back to professionalism. Back to pretending that you’re Hawks’s superior. Back to sucking up to the Commission. You’re going to cherish every minute of tonight, enjoying the company of Keigo Takami, not Hawks.

A shout echoed from downstairs. “The bathroom’s still empty, babe! Get your ass in there and pee!”

[space-helen]

Sweep

Words: 1460

Pairing: Nick Stokes x Reader

A/N: Not proof read again but I wanted to get something out for you all. I hope you enjoy! :)

Request: Maybe a dangerous situation, someone hurt, protective I dunno.I just like to read more nick x reader ^^ - @pumpkinfriend

______________________

The house was cold and uninviting. An eerie silence echoed throughout the property. You followed the police officer ahead of you into the room the victim lay, Nick a couple of steps behind you.

The police officer gestured to the body “We’ll be outside. Call if you need us.” and with that they were gone.

You looked around the study for a moment. “Interesting house layout.” you commented

Nick agreed “Study leads into the bedroom. No living area.”

“Maybe studying was his way of life.”

The man laughed and started to snap pictures of the man in his desk chair. Taking another look you could clearly see the gunshot wound to his head. “It was reported an hour ago right?”

The man nodded “yeah. Reported when neighbours heard the shots. Officers were the first to find his body, still waiting on Superdave to arrive.”

“Poor guy.” you snapped pictures of the photo frames nearby. The shelves looked like they’d been rummaged through. “Looks like he was close with who I can only assume were his parents.”

“He’s really young too. Officer said twenty three.”

“Nice place for a twenty three year old.” you commented “A big collection too. You don’t often see someone this young with material like this.” you gestured to some books on the shelf. “You’ve got it covered here?”

Nick nodded “Yeah, yeah. You take the bedroom.”

You moved across the room through the door into the bedroom. You took in your surroundings and snapped pictures. The man had lived what seemed to be a very clean, and organised lifestyle.

You noticed a drawer in the bedside table open, taking a picture of it, you carefully moved towards it and opened it. Snapping a picture of the inside you noticed that it was unorganised, a huge contrast to the rest of the room. You contemplated moving through to the previous room to grab print powder when you noticed that the wardrobe door was slightly ajar. You could have sworn it wasn’t when you’d come into the room.

Looking through the photos on your camera a cold chill went through your spine “Nick it looks like we have a ghost in here.” you nervously called. But just as the words left your mouth an arm was around your neck and you were being pushed harshly into the wall. 

You fought against the man’s grasp and he tugged at your camera that was around your neck to bring you close to him. Wrapping his arm around your neck he squeezed, slowly cutting off your air. Kicking and scratching at the man you finally got free and called for Nick. You were unsure if he even heard you.

The man grabbed you again and pushed you harshly to the floor. You felt a vase smash beneath you on your way down, it must have been knocked over in the struggle. You got to your feet and attempted to move away again.

“Y/N?” Nick instantly reached for his gun when he saw the sight in front of him but instead of drawing it he rushed to break up the fight. 

Amongst the struggle between the three you were pushed into the wall and hit your head. Sinking to the floor the realisation your legs and hand were bleeding settled in even though the fight before you was still underway.

Nick pushed the man into a corner and drew his gun. “Hands up. I said hands up.” The man obliged and Nick called for the officers. “Smart move pal.” Nick spat as two officers dragged him away. 

The original officer who’d shown you into the property hung back to talk to Nick. “I’m sorry, we did a sweep of the property but-”

“Well now you know for next time to do it better.” he came across slightly patronising “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. Accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again.”

“I understand.” was all the officer said before disappearing. 

Nick quickly made his way over to you. “Y/N? You good?” he took in your features, you were really beat up.

“I’ve been better.” you tried to laugh but it sounded pathetic.

“The first aid kit’s in the other room let me grab it.” The man pushed some hair behind your ear before running into the next room and returning with the first aid supplies. “Now let’s see what I can do before we get you some real medical help shall we.”

You laughed.

“Alright. Show me your hand I can see it’s bleeding.”

You obliged “I cut it on the vase. I think. Also got my leg too but I haven’t checked it out… I’m scared too. It feels bad.” 

He nodded “Your hand doesn’t look too bad just some scrapes.” he gestured to your trouser leg “May I?” you nodded and he rolled it up.

You winced at the pain and he apologised “It’s ok.” you squeeze your eyes tight. How bad is it?” you could feel the warm wetness on your knee.

“It’s not nothing. I’ll clean it up a little but I think you have some glass in there. I don’t want to mess with it too much but I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

The man got to work on your knee. During a particularly painful part you reached up and grabbed his shoulder. The man allowed you to squeeze it.

“Alright that’s all done. Anything else?”

“I hit my head pretty bad.” you admitted “It hurts a lot.” the splitting pain from initially hitting it had eased slightly but it was still bad. 

“Feel sick? Drowsy?”

“No, it just hurts.” 

“Alright.” he nodded to himself “What a ghost hey?”

You genuinely laughed this time. 

“Now that’s what I like to see. Alright, let’s get you to the hospital.”

“The scene-”

“We technically can’t take it anymore because of this little…” he words trailed off.

“Yeah, yeah I knew that.” you shook your head “I’m sorry I just forgot.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry.”  He gave you a sad smile as he packed away the supplies. “Ready to stand?”

You nodded “I might need some help” The man got to his own feet in front of you.

“That’s ok.” he put his hands out and you took them gratefully. “On three. One, two, three.”

On his count you got to your feet and he supported you. As you stood you attempted to take some uneasy steps.

“It’s alright I’ve got you.” he reassured. 

You smiled as he slipped a bag strap over his shoulder. “We’ll stop at the hospital first then go back to the lab.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

The man kept you close and supported you as you walked out to the car, he helped you into the passenger's seat before throwing his kit into the trunk and slipping into the driver's seat.

The journey to the hospital was quiet, and he kept looking at you throughout to make sure you were awake and ok. Although you said you were fine he couldn’t help but worry.

Nick parked up the car and was at your side instantly opening the door and helping you out. He sat you down in the waiting area before registering you into the emergency room it didn’t take long for someone to call you into a room. Nick stayed silent and by your side the entire time, watching the Doctor clean and dress the wound appropriately.

“That’s you all set. I’d suggest staying away from heavy work or even taking the rest of the day off. Rest the leg and let it heal.”

And with that you were being sent away from the busy emergency room. 

“Back to the lab or home?” Nick offered, knowing which you would pick.

“Lab. I need to make myself useful in some way. Even if it’s just looking at footage or research.”

“Thought so.” he smiled “You just won’t stop will you?”

“Stopping isn’t in my nature.”

“You know they’re going to try and force you to take time off and give you the ‘don’t push yourself’ talk right?”

“I know I just can’t be home alone. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“I get that.” there was a pause “but seriously if you need some time off and want company take it and I’ll take some time as well.”

You took a second and thought it over “I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“Yes you can.” he laughed “We’ll get some take out and watch a movie.”

“Only if I can pick. The last movie we watched was terrible.”

“In my defence Greg picked out that movie.”

“True. We have another movie night with him tomorrow so you better pick a good one.” you teased.

“Only the finest.” 

Tag List: (open)

Nick Stokes: @wanniiieeee​  @pumpkinfriend

CSI:

[jadelynlace]

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

 ~

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?” 

*

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him. 

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.  

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper. 

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did. 

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy. 

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day. 

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole. 

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill. 

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair. 

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

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