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forever-fixating · 1 year

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Rewrite the Stars

Summary: Austin is feeling homesick while filming Elvis and gets one hell of a birthday surprise!

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3.6K (I swear this was meant to be a quick drabble, and yet here I am finishing this at almost five in the morning...oops?)

Warnings: Lots of pining from our boi here

Author's Note: This was written for @foreverdolly. I hope this fills the pining!Austin feels you were hoping for! Perhaps if this gets enough likes (and if school and work permits me), I’ll write a part two! A couple of minor details- I headcanoned Austin here as more of a serial dater rather than anything involving Vanessa. It felt more suitable, given the pining angle I’m going for. Also, I wrote this like COVID never happened because that is a reality I’m sure we’d all love to live in right now. Enjoy!

Austin knew that filming Elvis would be hard. One doesn’t go into a project about a beloved figure of American pop culture thinking it will be a walk in the park. Hell, the months-long audition process made that abundantly clear. But the most challenging part wasn’t the months and months of vocal training, singing lessons, costume fitting, or reading every possible book and watching every video about Elvis Aaron Presley he could get his hands on.

It was being away from his friends and family.

It was just him alone in an apartment halfway across the globe from the place and people he called home. It didn’t matter how many FaceTime calls he made with his sister Ashley or his childhood best friend Y/N or how many care packages they sent filled with his favorite snacks. Eventually, the calls ended, and the snacks were eaten.

His birthday was around the corner, although he was surprised he even registered that it was close. He texted Y/N to see if maybe you would be able to fly down for a quick visit. He even offered to pay for your plane ticket and introduce her to Baz, one of your favorite directors. That morning while he was in hair and makeup, you texted back, “Get me a spot on the soundtrack, and you got a deal!”

He snorted at the reference to the joke you made when he told you that he got the part…after screaming and crying out of excitement and happiness for him. You were the first person he wanted to tell when he got the news. You had been the one that encouraged him to go for the part in the first place. It had become a tradition between the two of you. Celebrating each other’s big moments. He remembered the day you told him about your record deal. He always believed you had the talent to follow your dreams. Growing up, you always wrote poetry and bits of songs, and the two of you constantly played guitar and piano in your room. It was one of the few spaces he felt comfortable enough to be himself. You never got frustrated with his shyness or anxiety, even agreeing to play in the dark to make him feel more comfortable. When you won your first Grammy, he was in the crowd, clapping until his hands ached.

Your subsequent text made his heart sink. “In all seriousness, I wish I could be there for your b-day. (Don’t think I forgot!) But I’m in the middle of recording my next album and my producer is a workhorse. I’m so sorry, Aus.”

“It’s okay,” he texted back. “It’s just 29. Should be done with filming before I turn 30 and we can do that one big!”

You sent back thumbs-up and blue heart emojis, and he tucked his phone into his pocket. There was a small lump in his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment. The last thing he wanted to do was cry over something so dumb. Because it was dumb! People didn’t stop living their lives back home just because he was in Australia. Jobs had to be done, bills had to be paid, and his feeling homesick like a little kid didn’t change that. His sister had sent back a similar response when he asked if she could come for a visit. He told her he understood and to not worry about him.

“Are you all right, Austin?”

He opened his eyes to his makeup artist Trisha looking at him in the mirror. She had a gift for reading his moods. Sometimes, he wished she wasn’t so accurate. He shrugged and mumbled, “Just got a disappointing text from home.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. She stayed silent for a moment, brushing more bronzer onto his face. “Want to talk about it?”

The lump in his throat hurt to talk around. “Not really.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day before his birthday, Baz picked Austin up at his apartment. He had a coffee waiting and was listening to the usual Elvis Presley playlist. He had long stopped being surprised by the Australian director’s eccentric nature. What surprised him was Baz didn’t drive them directly to set. Austin looked at the older man and asked, “Where we goin’?”

Baz just shrugged as he flipped on the turn signal. “The airport.”

This confused Austin. He tried to mask this by joking, “Is this your way of telling me I’m fired?”

That prompted a laugh out of Baz. “Nothing of the sort. I’m just picking up a friend. Flying them in for a special cameo for the film. I thought you’d like to tag along.”

“I’m not needed on set?”

“That is the beauty of being the director,” Baz replied with a grin. “I determine where you’re needed.”

Austin picked up the coffee Baz bought him and took a sip. “That’s not ominous at all, Mr. Luhrman.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive discussing work. What Baz had planned, any concerns Austin may have, and what could be done to fix them. He loved working with Baz. He was unlike any director Austin had worked with previously. The man had a vision but never let that stop him from treating his cast and crew respectfully. Austin’s time in Hollywood had shown him what a rare quality that was in a director.

Before they knew it, they had arrived at the Brisbane airport. Baz had been tight-lipped about who exactly they were coming to get. He was happy he took care of getting dressed this morning. The weather flipped down in the Southern Hemisphere, so he woke up to a cold snap that morning. He put on a navy cashmere sweater Ashley bought him before he left. The closer his birthday got, the more intense his homesickness felt.

Baz parked the car, and the two of them headed inside. They were stopped a couple of times by fans eager for a selfie or an autograph. Austin watched as a young woman told Baz how she was inspired by his work to go to film school. He gave her some words of wisdom and agreed to take a photo with her. It was touching to witness and a lesson on how to talk with fans. Finally, they arrived at the area where people waited for arrivals. Austin turned and asked, “Gonna let me in on who we’re meeting?”

Baz looked up from his phone and simply gestured in the distance. Austin turned to where Baz was pointing and thought his heart would stop. It was Ashley and Y/N! They were here in Australia! Austin turned back to Baz, who simply said, “Happy birthday, son.”

Austin wasted no time sprinting toward the two women. He pulled his big sister in for a hug first, squeezing her tight and saying through tears, “If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.”

He felt Ashley rub his back. “This is very real, little brother. And you have Baz and Y/N to thank for all this.”

He pulled away from his sister to see you standing there. Your eyes were glassy with tears even as you joked, “Well if you weren’t going to get me on the soundtrack, I figured I had to do it myself.”

Austin choked out a laugh and picked you up, spinning you around and squeezing you tight. His nickname for you growing up was Tink because of your tiny frame and fiery temper. When he finally set you down, he looked down at you as you explained, “Me and Ashley have been worried about you lately. You seemed really blue. So, I did the L.A. thing: I had my people reach out to Baz’s people and ask if we couldn’t arrange a surprise for your birthday.”

By this point, Baz had joined all three of you. He clapped Austin on the back and said, “I know that the Method is all the rage in Hollywood, but I don’t see sense in tormenting yourself needlessly. We can put production on pause for a little bit. Spend some time with these beautiful women who love you very much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, the three of you decided to stay at Ausitn’s place and order takeout later that evening. You were slightly more experienced with jetlag, but Ashley required a late afternoon nap. That gave the two of you time to catch up. Austin asked how work on your new album was going and just let your voice live and in person wash over him. You wore one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Your hair was in a messy bun on top of your head, and your face was covered with one of those Korean skincare masks you loved. But to Austin, plain or dressed for a red carpet, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He had always been a little in love with you. The timing never seemed to be on his side enough to make a move. As a teen, he was intimidated by your sudden rise to fame through MySpace. One day, you were posting songs you wrote, then suddenly, you had a record deal and were playing across the country. The last thing you needed was some awkward guy next to you whose biggest claim to fame was bit parts on iCarly and Hannah Montana.

As you both got older and started dating people, Austin figured maybe the two of you were meant to be just friends. He remembered watching a movie with that phrase as the title and the rant you went on after the movie ended.

“I swear to God,” you raged, “guys feel like just because they have feelings for a woman and treat her like a human being, that makes them entitled to sex with us! It’s disgusting! ‘Nice guys finish last’ is such misogynistic bullshit.”

You looked at him after finishing and squeezed his arm. “I’m so glad you’re not like that, Austin. You are rare among your gender.”

He never wanted to be that for you, either. He loved you as a person before he fell in love with you. The last thing he wanted was to be another creep trying to get into your pants. You had a long-term boyfriend, Trevor, who Austin could not stand. He was also a musician, and you met while on tour for your second album. It seemed like a match made in heaven. But Trevor had a nasty habit of comparing your careers, with his being more “legitimate” because he didn’t have to use the internet to become successful. It was a point he learned not to bring up around you or Austin unless he was ready for an argument to ensue.

“You know you’re going to have to introduce me to Tom Hanks,” you said, your eyes bright with excitement. “You know Forrest Gump is one of my favorite movies of all time. God knows how often I’ve watched Toy Story, Sleepless in Seattle, or You’ve Got Mail. I practically grew up with Tom Hanks!”

Austin grinned. “Ah, and so the true motivation for this trip emerges.”

“Oh, you were just a great bonus,” you teased as you removed your mask and massaged the excess product into your skin. “I’m here to see Woody.”

Austin laughed. Your presence melted away all of the angst he had been feeling lately. His whole body felt relaxed and at ease for the first time in months. At this moment, he didn’t have to worry about being ready for the set or rehearsing the same sequence for hours on end. He could just be Austin.

He reached out to squeeze your hand. You smiled and squeezed his back. His voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you replied.

You reached out to pull his head down and kissed his forehead. He couldn’t stop himself from encircling your wrist with his hand as you did. You pulled away slightly, and for a moment, you both breathed the same air. Your eyes connected. It could be so easy. He could just lean forward and do what he had been dreaming about for ages. He rubbed your inner wrist and found a racing pulse. You were so close. But…he wouldn’t do that to you. Austin knew how you felt about cheating, no matter how innocent the act was.

He was the first to break the moment. Clearing his throat, he pulled away and said, trying to force a laugh, “Don’t let Trevor hear you say that. How’s he doing, by the way? Still on tour?”

Something fell over your eyes at that moment. Before he could question it, you laughed harshly and said, “Yup, still touring. I think he’s still pissed because I told him I didn’t want his help on my next album. He’s been weird since I helped improve one of his singles by making it a duet. So now he’s needlessly looking for “improvements” in my work.”

Leave his sorry ass, Austin wanted to snap. You’re twice the songwriter he will ever be, and you deserve someone who recognizes true talent. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s just a rough patch?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied. “But…they seem to be coming more frequently here lately.”

Scrubbing your face, you jumped up and said, “Bleh, enough about Trevor. Let’s see if Ashley has recovered enough so we can order something to eat. I’m starving!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People could never say that Baz Luhrmann was a subtle man. For Austin’s birthday the following evening, he rented a restaurant with an adjoining karaoke bar. This surprise party had been well-planned. Catherine even decorated the space and ensured the manager secured any recording devices from non-guests. When the trio arrived, Austin hugged Baz and Catherine and thanked them for such kindness and generosity. Ashley wore a dusty rose off-the-shoulder dress with an A-line skirt that looked gorgeous. You looked stunning in a black cocktail dress inspired by Breakfast at Tiffany’s, complete with an updo and tiara. When you finally emerged from Austin’s bedroom, he mumbled, “Hello, gorgeous.”

You winked and said, “Thanks, but wrong movie.”

There was the usual dinner and giving of gifts. Baz, Tom, and others gave speeches, praising Austin so much that by the end, he was a puddle of tears and emotion. At the end of the dinner, he couldn’t say more than, “Thank you for all over this. Making this movie and being here with all of you has been one of the best experiences of my life. I will carry it with me and treasure it always.”

Once the dinner concluded, the party moved to the karaoke bar. Baz and you, as Austin figured, got along like a house on fire. Both of you were music nerds and kept trying to outdo each other in karaoke performances. You won the night with a spirited rendition of Tina Turner’s Proud Mary that saw your heels kicked into the crowd, your updo wholly wrecked, and Olivia holding your tiara as she screamed and cheered. As you exited the stage, Baz stood and bowed, saying, “I know when I’m beaten. Now, what’s this about you wanting to be on the soundtrack?”

A few others took turns on the stage. Dacre, Luke, and Adam tried to sing together to Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl. Tom and Rita sang I Got You, Babe before bidding everyone good night. Olivia, Ashley, Catherine, and you giggled through Wannabe by the Spice Girls. After the song ended, Olivia, Ashley, and Catherine teetered their way back off stage, but you remained. Putting a hand on your hip, you said into the microphone, “Mr. Butler…you are the only one who has not sung this evening. It’s time we fixed that. Get your ass up here!”

Everyone began chanting Austin’s name until he shrugged off his jacket and tie and joined you on stage. You had a look on your face that seemed both nervous and excited. Ever the performer, you turned back to the crowd and said, “Now, D.J., before you start the song we spoke about earlier, I wanna tell everyone here a little story about Austin and me.”

“Oh Jesus,” Austin said loud enough that the mic picked him up.

“Hush you,” you smacked his shoulder. “Anywho, me and Austin have a favorite pastime back home of watching bad movies together. It’s kind of like Mystery Science Theater 3000, snarking comments and all. Well, one of our favorites to watch is The Greatest Showman.”

This prompted boos and shouts from the crowd, to which you replied, “I know, I know. The movie made over a billion, and Hugh Jackman is your national treasure.”

You paused to allow people to cheer for their man before continuing, “But as an American…the movie is ridiculous. P.T. Barnum was a dick who did not deserve the talents of Mr. Hugh Jackman! But that soundtrack fucking rules! There would be nights when Austin and I couldn’t sleep, and we would drive around L.A. screaming that soundtrack at the tops of our lungs!”

You finally turned back to Austin, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. You smiled at him as your voice softened. “So we’re going to sing you of those songs tonight. Apologies in advance to Zendaya and Zac. May you never see this.”

Oh, Jesus…it was that song. You motioned for him to come closer. The butterflies were now a hurricane. He was about to sing a love song in front of a crowd of people to the woman he wanted more than anything. What could possibly go wrong?

“You know I want you,” Austin began, his voice shaky with nerves. “It’s not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me. So don’t keep saying our hands tied.”

A few people cheered, sensing his nerves. He grinned, and as the verse progressed, he felt his confidence growing. The two of you had watched this movie so many times, you began doing a facsimile of the scene from the film on stage. You kept your eyes downcast, your body turned away from him, as if you were fighting against this as much as you wanted to give in. At last, you came together at the end of the chorus, Austin going so far as to put his hand around your waist and tuck your hair behind your ear as he sang, “So why don’t we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours tonight?”

You took the microphone from the stand and took a giant step back as the music continued. Austin could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The look in your eyes reminded him of the look from yesterday. You lifted the microphone and sang, “You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you? But there are mountains and there are doors that we can’t walk through.”

You began walking along the edge of the stage and gesturing to the crowd as you continued to sing. Austin followed you as he felt the desperation behind the song's words for the first time. As you sang the chorus to the audience, he led you back to the center of the stage. And what’s more, you let yourself be guided back. You placed the microphone as the chorus ended, and you both began belting the bridge.

“All I want is to fly with you! All I want is to fall with you! So just give me all of you…”

There seemed to be something in your voice as you sang of this being impossible. Was he making this up? Was it just the two of you committing to the bit, as it were? The edges started to blur for Austin. Were they blurring for you too?

“You know I want you,” you sang finally, your voice just as shaky as he was at the song's beginning. “It’s not a secret I try to hide. But I can’t have you. We’re bound to fate, and my hands are tied.”

Both of you were startled when everyone began cheering. In those brief moments, they seemed to fade into the background. Before Austin even had time to process what the hell happened, you said into the microphone, “And that’s enough from me. Austin, thank you for humoring me. Maybe we can get him to sing an Elvis song next?”

He was shell-shocked as you hurried off stage to rejoin Ashley and Olivia. He wanted to follow you. He wanted to take you somewhere quiet and private and ask a million questions. What did you mean by that song choice? Were you trying to tell him something? But before he could even think of what to do first, he heard the all-too-familiar chords of Jailhouse Rock blast from the speakers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days after you and Ashley returned to L.A., he got an email from his big sister. She had recorded your performance of Rewrite the Stars that night. The only text in the email stated, “If this is anything to go off of, I think you can, baby brother. Don’t waste this moment.”

Author’s Note: So…do we need a part two? Let me know down below! Likes, comments, and reblogs are cherished and adored.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #elvis 2022 #fanfiction #rpf #writing #forever-fixating

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idesofrevolution · 2 years

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Friends on the Other Side

Ted looked down at his watch, of course the flight was delayed. It's not as if he were on a time crunch anyway, a few weeks off in Miami and Key West would be exactly the right way to spend his hard earned vacation time. He'd always been a workhorse, barely eating, barely sleeping, just going hard every day for the last nine months until he was a zombie: skin and bones. All those hours added up, and thank god he'd been able to use them against his boss-all in all he'd accumulated 14 days of vacation days, and it was finally time to cash in.

It seemed, however, that Delta had different plans. The flight was now delayed almost an hour thanks to "difficulties" in Atlanta and Ted was then left to occupy himself in the terminal for the next 45-50 minutes. He sighed, the thought of the white sandy beaches and rolling turquoise waves was beckoning to him from the vast beyond. He'd be there soon enough. Pulling out his phone, he did what any self-respecting 20 something year old twink would do: he checked Scruff. Sighing with exasperation, he opened the app to an immediate fifteen messages- most of them from pictureless or torso profiles. Though, some of them were rather nice lookin.

His options were limited to whoever was flying in and out of the airport, unfortunately, so that knocked the options down to only a single man. A torso, but it was a nice lookin' torso. Cobbled abs, meaty pecs, tattoos all over. Yummy yummy. Smiling, he opened the message.

BARONSAMEDI: Hey there baby, what brings you to Scruff tonight?

TEDDYTWINK: Looking for a good use of an hour or so. Flight Delay.

BARONSAMEDI: Quite a bit you can do in an hour.

TEDDYTWINK: What can you do in an hour? ;)

BARONSAMEDI: Why don't I just show you?

Ted felt his cheeks blush. He was slick, a nice change from the immediate three unflattering dick pics and a "hey." Not to mention it'd been a minute since he'd actually had the energy to... enjoy some company. He looked up at the clock, 45 minutes in counting. Then there's boarding, so maybe another ten minutes or so? As he sat there trying to justify what he'd been looking to do, the man messaged back.

BARONSAMEDI: Concourse C. I'll be in the mens room. Third stall. If you're curious, of course.

Ted was in Concourse C, and the mens room was only about four gates down. Perhaps it was the proximity that convinced him, or the large time window, or more likely than not, the mysterious man's confident energy itself. He smiled, closing his phone and gathering his belongings. Stacking his bags, he rolled down the long hallway, past gates for Minneapolis, St. Louis, Bangor, and Seattle before finally arriving at the men's room. He quietly walked into the bathroom, finding it completely devoid of occupants. He'd never seen an airport bathrom entirely empty before- perhaps he just hit it right. The rolling of his suitcase's wheels against the tile floor loudly echoed in the cavernous room, and as he arrived in the third stall.

Gingerly peering into the floor gap from above, he could see two huge black combat boots standing behind the door. You know what they say- big feet... big, oh you know. A gentle tap was all it took for the the lock to click open, as Ted did one last sweep of the bathroom before sneaking in and closing the door. Turning around, he saw the occupant, his companion for the next hour.

"Well hello there, my pet." Before him stood a man, large and imposing; two dead, white eyes peered at him behind a dark skull visage. His voice seemed to echo in a low sultry growl, and his accent made him rather hard to understand. "What's the matter, never met the boogeyman before?" The lights seemed to darken around the man as he cackled, leaving a black, empty void surrounding them. He pulled out a cigar, smiling as he lit it with the snap of his fingers. Smiling, he blew the smoke in Ted's shocked face, as he bent down to speak to him at eye level. "I have a proposition for ya, my child."

Ted was terrified, the being before him was not of this world, he was from the great beyond and past our comprehension. There was a strange energy about the man: smooth, flirtatious, suave, with an ounce of danger lurking beneath. The way he looked at Ted... as if he were fucking him with his eyes and that smirk, it was a difficult dichotomy for him to comprehend. Though, as he stood there, cowering in awe and fear, a lingering curiosity grew within him. What did this creature... this being... want with just a normal dude like him? The man leaned in closer, blowing another puff of thick cigar smoke in his face, a probing look across his skeletal face.

"Wha... what did you have in mind?" The man stood upright again, towering above Ted in the dark expanse, letting his long split tongue lick his plump, painted lips. He seemed to lean against the nothingness, a glass of dark rum manifesting itself in thin air into his inked hand.

"Well, it's really quite simple. You're lookin' for a good time, a nice vacation on the beach, maybe make sure some good lookin' fellas end up in the bed at the end of the day. You want to be able to snatch a fella like that with just the snap of your fingers. You want to be strong, and hard, and virile, and get that goood ass. Do I paint an accurate picture?" The sting of truth rang through Ted. Every word was correct. He cautiously nodded his head, still skeptical of the sinister spirit. "Now all I want to do is have a little fun myself, ya feel me? I want a little some of that action, you know what I'm saying? Now I'm all about helping a lost, sad little man like you when he's down in the dumps. But I don't work for free."

An air of menace fell over the duo, and the tension seemed to only grow between them. The spirit looked at him from nearly every angle, as if he were examining produce at the market to find the best one, and he seemed to be pleased.

"What are you proposing, then, sir?" Ted's voice shuddered, be it fear or pure adrenaline. He himself was not sure of his thoughts- this eldritch spirit with the energy of a lusting horn dog was offering him a once in a lifetime deal... perhaps he'd at least hear the terms?

"Only that we may share our experiences with eachother. I will provide you with the tools you need to, shall we say, seal the deal. And in return, you merely allow me to have a little fun of my own along the way." The terms were unclear at best, and duplicitous at worst. That seemed to be in line with the ambiguous intention that the spirit exuded. "Do we have a deal?" The man extended his long, boney hand, the subtle whispers in the dark encouraging him to 'take the deal, take his hand, do it, do it.' Ted, perhaps blinded by the prospect of him being some sort of casanova stud, exhaled deeply as he grasped the calloused, rough hand he'd been offered. He accepted.

The quiet whispers in the room quickly turned to maniacal laughter, as the spirit smiled wickedly at his naive prey. His split tongue ran down Ted's cheek as it tickled it's way down his neck. Ted's clothes faded into the endless oblivion, where he now stood naked and vulnerable. The grip on his hand started to tighten until it felt as if his skin was being seared by the scalding heat. The spirit cackled, the smoke from his cigar wafed around them, obscuring Ted's sight. Within seconds, through a small clearing in the smoke, the spirit's fist flew toward his face with no time to react. All Ted could do was close his eyes and prepare for impact, but to his absolute shock and horror, there was no collision whatsoever. He felt a tightening in his neck, as if there were a frog in his throat. Opening his eyes, he saw what was causing this sensation.

The spirit's arm, submerged into his gaping mouth up to his elbow, and continuing to sink deeper. As more and more of the spirit began to push past his lips, the mans body began to dissipate into a thick fog of almost liquid smoke as it rushed down into Ted's gullet. The taste of ignited tobacco, spiced rum, marijuana, and musky sweat overwhelmed his tongue until it was all he could sense. Holding his breath held no resistance, as the spirit continued to effortlessly push further and further into him, the last of the rubbery smoke flapping around as it whipped down into his mouth.

Ted looked down at himself, a strange green aura began to emit from all around his body, while within him, the spirit's deep, low laughter now bellowed loudly. He looked down as what looked like tendrils began to snake around beneath his skin, protruding out as they squirmed.

"Well, well, well." The spirit's voice boomed from deep inside his chest. "You must be enjoying yourself, Ted. Not much of a fight I must say. Now, as I am a man of my word..." The tendrils snaked down his arms, squiggling their way toward his fingers. Ted began to scream, but as the smoke filled the entirety of his hand, he now found it clasped tightly over his mouth. It began to pulsate as it started to grow and bulk, thick slabs of muscle seemlingly inflating from his very bones, and within moments, it looked nothing like what used to be. His hands were now thick, wide, and calloused, capping off an arm with bulging biceps and triceps dangling from a rock hard deltoid. Ted let out a gasp, pleasantly surprised as his arm flexed all on it's own, a salty wet musk pouring from his pit. "You are enjoying yourself, Ted. No more fighting. Just let me do my work- you won't be disappointed.

A flood of tan washed down his skin from his head to his toes, as the rest of his body began to creak and crack. Tendrils shot out from ever direction, squeezing into Ted's lanky extremeties and inflating them with thick, cut muscle. His shoulders broadened, and his pecs pillowed out of his chest, a light dusting of hair sprouting down his individually popping abs. His right arm swelled to match the other in tone and size, Ted smiling eagerly as his thick knuckles cracked at the sheer force of his fist. Shooting up to an impressive 6'10, Ted's legs burst with mass, ballooning outward and hardening into thick thighs, a tight ass, and chiseled calves. Bursting out of his shoes, high arched size 17's now rounded out his physique, emanating a strong funky musk of their own and keeping all 230 pounds of cut mocha colored muscle steady and supported.

Feeling the final changes settling in, he waited with bated breath as his face began to contort and pinch, squelch and crack. His throbbing cock stretched outward, pressing against the skin tight jeans that encased his lower half, finally peeking it's slimy uncut head out the top, eventually letting the 11 inch monster leak it's pre all across his hard abdomen. Ted opened his eyes, and looked down.

He was an adonis- the jacked, sultry heart throb kind that he'd see on modeling campaigns and pornos. Within his head, Ted profusely thanked his grantor, absolutely dying to explore his new body and see what it could do. Though, it seemed the spirit had other plans. Ted felt a wave of goosebumps flow over his skin, and his new plump lips crack a mischevious side grin. The sly spirit within was not finished, it was now time for Ted to pay up.

"This is my masterpiece, Ted. You should be proud." The spirits dark, deep voice bellowed out of his mouth now while his hands groped and prodded ever delicious ounce of man meat. "But now it's time to pay up, my friend." Ted, now reduced to a mere soul acting as a passenger in his former body's mind, felt the spirit's presence tightening around him. Compressing him. "Now, just let me get a bit more comfortable." The pressure was mounting, building and building against his intangible soul until he felt a small prick. That's all it took for the spirit to flood into the kid's soul. He gleefully grabbed his cock, slowly stroking it as he took this body for himself. Ted felt the very core of the loa merging with his consciousness, as if his last bit of individuality was being slipped on like a costume. His fear was slowly replaced by cockiness and confidence. The feeling of lust overwhelmed him; debaucherous and filthy kinks flooded his mind as the loa inserted himself into Ted.

Intricate tattoos began to be burnt onto his skin, starting from his smelly toes and crawling all the way up his body. Breathlessly jacking his cock, animalistic growls and grunt escaped his mouth, the green cloudy aura grew stronger, now filled with the sharp scent of musk, booze, and tobacco. Nearing climax, the loa took one final moment to absorb the last of Ted, truly becoming one with him. And with an animalistic roar, he shot stream after stream of his thick, gloopy load, pooling into a small sea of cum around his bare feet. His eyes shot open, now a dead white, and his tongue split in two as the last of his ink finalized on his face, the pattern of a skull sublty hidden in it's design. The baron let out a gutteral laugh, as he tickled his sweaty pits with his forked tongue.

"Thanks, Ted. It's a win win. You have the body you've always wanted, and I get to enjoy the land of the living, with all the dick, ass, and pussy that I can take." The loa snapped his fingers, manifesting a string of protection beads, a purple chiffon shirt, and massive combat boots to deck out his sexy new form.

---------

"Final call for boarding on Flight 1102 with service to Miami." The young desk attendant hung up the speakerphone. Only one no-show, not the worst turnout, and only one person that he'd have to get cussed out by. As he typed away at the computer, preparing the gate for takeoff, he caught a gentle whiff of a strange smell. Sweet, salty, sharp... was someone smoking? Before he could look up to find out himself, a hand slammed a boarding pass down onto the desk in front of him. The young man looked up, only inches away from the final passenger's devilishly sexy face.

"Got caught up in the bathroom, my bad, baby." The desk attendant shivered at the sound of his voice, deeper than the ocean and darker than night. Gazing into the piercing grey eyes that stared into his very soul, he felt entirely lost in them. Mindlessly, he stamped the boarding pass, not breaking eye contact for a single moment. The man smiled, biting his lower lip as he sized up the flight attendant. "Thanks, baby. You know how it is. Man's got needs and tension he has to let out. I got a bit left over for a special someone." The man gently caressed the attendant's cheek with his rough fingers. "If you happen to need a release of your own, I'll be ready for you." His split tongue slid between his pearly white teeth, as he took the boarding pass from the attendant and started down the jetway, the trailing green mist wafting behind him as he strode.

#male possession #body possession #spirit possession #male transformation #male tf #body transformation #racial transformation #musk #original #voodoo #loa #spirit #baron samedi #gay possession #gay transformation #tattoos #punkification #jockification

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kinetic-elaboration · 2 months

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February 14: The Expanse 1x05

Halfway done with The Expanse S1. I can definitely see it coming together… I think. I felt like this episode had a lot of pretty explicit extra exposition and summarizing going on, and in some ways felt more like an inflection point than anything. But the amount of explaining also sort of reminded me that I have not been really actively trying to follow anything so much as just going along for the ride.

I do find it funny that the former-Canterbury crew’s plotline for fully half the season has just been going from ship to ship and blowing stuff up accidentally. Are they the targets? Are they in the wrong place at the wrong time, as seems to be the case? Second one sure is a funny possibility.

I enjoyed seeing more of Ceres again, as it feels like it’s been a bit since we spent a significant amount of time there. I feel like the Earth/UN stories are for really bird’s-eye-view understandings of the political situation, the now-Rocinante crew stories are for (attempts at?) tense, individual-focused, adventure storylines, and the Ceres stuff is like in the middle. There’s a familiar noir-detective story but also a lot of worldbuilding about the political situation, and all of it connects to the stories on the other ends of the spectrum, and I think it’s a good balance.

As far as following all the specifics… I kind of figured early on that this show was going to require more than one watching to really properly follow, so the main things I’m looking for in this go-round are a viewing experience that I enjoy enough to want to come back for a re-watch and, by the end of the season, something that basically feels like it makes sense, regardless of whether I followed every detail or picked up on every specific of it.

And so far, it’s been good, it’s been fun. I really, really, really love the world building. Like worst case scenario and it’s all ultimately just Vibes and no coherent plot, I am enjoying the complex interplay of the various locations and the detail given to the political intrigue and so on.

I’m sort of starting to warm to the Rocinante crew as well, especially Amos for some reason? I don’t know, there was just something very funny about him in this episode, like ‘I knew a woman named [Workhorse], she was good to me’? Okay, bro. And Naomi just scoffing, relatable as hell.

The Anderson Station story was extremely sad, but I thought it was well done except that it was a little weird to be introduced to that back story in the same episode as we first see Fred Johnson himself. Like I basically figured out exactly what would happen from the end of the first scene with Anderson Station because I recognized his voice, plus the placement of the scenes was like…duh. So I knew he’d kill them all and it was just a question of how depressed I’d be about it. I sort of feel like that back story should have been in an earlier episode—or maybe even a later one? I don’t know.

I decided today that I really like the designs of these ships and space stations. All the sets and clothing and tattoos and stuff are very cool; they did a good job.

The whole concept of a future-Earth that’s recognized as such a beautiful, unique, wonderful place that should be cherished and protected, especially as seen in contrast to alternative places humans might someday live, like space stations or ships or other planets, is sooooooooooooo my kink, you don’t even know. So I’ve also been digging how hard this show goes in on that theme. I don’t know if the environmentalist message is on purpose (the anti-colonial anti-capitalist message sure is, I assume) but I see it regardless.

#the year 2024 #2024: fandom thoughts #2024: the expanse

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 2 years

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Sword for Hire Chapter 2

Bronn x reader

Word Count: 1078

Summary: A fight in the woods and a new face

The sound of clanking armor set your teeth on edge. These men were better prepared for a fight than you, certainly; their plate would go far to protect them from any attack you might level on them, especially since you were still lying on the ground. Your hand tightened on your sword. Beside you, Pig the workhorse-turned-warhorse nickered softly in displeasure.

“Ssh, boy,” you muttered, eyes not leaving the leader that was still eyeing you up.

Honestly, you were impressed the soldiers even managed to find your camp. It was small, but then again the dying fire still would have been quite noticeable in the late evening light. Encounters like this were the hazard of being a woman who chose to traveled alone.

Behind the leader, there was still idle, jeering chatter coming from the accompanying soldiers.

At their suspicious yet still lustful gazes, you slid to your feet. You made a show of keeping a grip on your sword, but at the same time you kept the tip on the ground, using it like a walking stick to stand. Slowly, you kicked some dirt on the fire, smothering it. In the process, you buried the rabbit you hadn’t had the chance to finish eating; living through this likely fight took precedence though.

The horses the men were leading by the reins shuffled in discomfort, as if they could feel the rising tension between the humans they had to accompany.

“What’s a lady like you doing all the way out here?” another man asked. Much like the first, his accent was distinctly Southern. You spotted the lion crest on the shields that hung from the horses’ saddles.

“All alone?” came a third’s voice.

“I’m not a lady,” you informed them calmly. “I’m just a poor tavern girl passing through on my way to the next town. Work’s a bit hard to come by, you know.”

You could see the fourth man’s eyes track from the sword in your hand--now held still downwards, but no longer brushing the forest floor--to the large, black horse that was staring at them hatefully from your side. “How did a poor tavern girl afford a sword like that? Doesn’t look like cheap steel.”

“And why do you have a sword at all?”

“It was my father’s,” you lied easily. “He was a blacksmith; made it for himself. Bastard got himself killed the first time he used it. I thought it’d be useful in case I ran into someone unsavory on the road.”

“And you’re looking to repeat history?” One prodded, an ugly leer still on his face.

You felt your nostrils flare in irritation. “I think I’ve learned how to handle myself.” You should bite your tongue to keep it from wagging. You should really stop talking. You should-- “At least better than you cunts can.” Shit.

The sounds of metal sliding filled the air as the men all pulled their swords on you.

“Lads,” the leader spoke like it was a religious proclamation, “seems to me like this lass needs to learn some respect.”

You raised your blade fully. “Good fucking luck.”

The next several minutes were an unfortunately difficult fight for your life because the Lannisters had this annoying habit of making sure their armies were as effective as possible. By the end of it, you had at least one cut on your legs and your nose was gushing blood down your face.

They were lying dead all around you.

You tipped your head back, sword held limply at your side as you panted into the evening air.

Clapping sounded from behind you like you were a knight that just won some tourney.

You whipped around, sword held aloft once more as you readied for another fight with whatever soldier you hadn’t seen in all the chaos.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a man said.

He wasn’t one of the Lannisters, that much was obvious the second you laid eyes on him. Unlike the elaborate plate armor of the soldiers around you, he wore black leather that seemed to bring out the bright blue color of his eyes in the dwindling light. His sword (and at least one knife that you could see) was still strapped to his waist rather than in his hand. Oddly, he seemed to have no horse or supplies.

“I’d have stepped in, but--”

“Who are you?” you demanded.

“Bronn,” he answered easily, not moving from his place leaning against a tree. “Before you ask, I was after these cunts. They pinched my shit while I was drunk a few nights ago, and I wanted it back.”

You snorted in amusement and let your sword arm fall once more. “Maybe you should be more careful.”

“Ah, but then I’d have never run into you.” His eyes trailed down your form, eyebrows raising in apparent appreciation which reminded you unfortunately of the dead men around you.

“I’m not a whore.” Not anymore, at least.

“Don’t have to be a whore to enjoy a good time,” he said conversationally. “Do us a favor and duck, would ya?”

“What--” you started to ask before really registering what he’d said. Then, you dropped to one knee as quickly as you could. And, yeah okay, maybe you understood his want for a ‘good time’ with you after watching him casually pull another, previously unseen knife and throwing it directly into the neck of a soldier that seemingly hadn’t been as dead as you thought.

He looked at you expectantly after the face. “Why do you say?” he asked, offering his hand to help you up.

A surprised laugh bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat. You accepted his help. The blood on your face was drying and starting to itch. “Bronn, was it?” you asked by way of answer.

“The one and only.” He gave a sarcastic little bow.

You replied with your own name. “I’m afraid I need a wash before I even think about taking you up on your generous offer.”

A scoff left his lips as he yanked his knife out of the soldier’s neck. “A real man doesn’t mind a bit of grime.” He eyed the cut in your thigh. “But we should probably patch that sooner rather than later so you don’t pass out on me. And there just so happens to be a river about a mile that way.”

“We?” you teased.

“Ya haven’t turned me down yet, so like fuck am I letting a woman like you get away.”

#bronn x reader #bronn of the blackwater x reader #bronn of the blackwater imagine #bronn imagine #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #reader insert

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masterwords · 2 years

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hold out the palm of your hand

Summary: Hotch & Max make a bet about kissing while working on a stage production of Romeo & Juliet.

Pairing: Hotch/Male OC - Max (first kiss)

Warnings: minor injuries, child abuse

Words: 4.3k

Notes: Written for @jaspxr - using the prompt from Bad Things Happen Bingo: First Aid Kit & teen Hotch + his tree house. I set it a few months after "how it feels to have a heartbeat" so if you haven't read that one...it's where you meet Max for the first time. In case you wanted to know that. If you see a prompt on the bingo card (at the end of the story) feel free to send it my way. I'm slow but I'm working on everything I've received!

Read on AO3: hold out the palm of your hand

Voices echoing through the auditorium reverberated through the stage beneath his feet. Teachers shouting instructions at rebellious teens who wanted nothing more than to go home. Be with their families. Eat some dinner, maybe even do their homework. Anything but sweat over the finishing touches of a stage production.

A tower was being erected in the middle, a balcony fit for a goddess and Aaron was painting twirling ivy the best he could with shaking hands. Not that he could do much better under different circumstances, but he was absolutely famished and his hands wouldn't stop trembling. It made for fun jittering leaves dancing their way up the sides of the tower walls. His teacher called it inspired, he called it dizzy.

“Hotchner!” It was Haley's chirpy voice and he squinted into the stage lights to see her golden hair and not much else. Too bright. Dust scattered like sparks in the sharp yellow rays and she was nothing but a shadow. “They want you to help load in the wood for the balcony!” He groaned, tossing his paintbrush into the bucket and narrowly missing kicking it over as he stepped over and around the canvas splattered in greens and reds and browns and grays. Years, decades maybe, of theater kids painting sets. He could feel the history when he stood atop those oiled canvas plains. Wondered which globs of dried paint went with which production.

“Out back, hurry.” She smiled at him fondly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Flirty, maybe because she knew he liked her, or maybe because she actually liked him back. That didn't matter much, though, because she had a boyfriend. Girls like her always had boyfriends, and they were never like him. He smiled back quickly, a little shy, and hurried past her without a word. Head down he walked down the corridor, dimly lit and stepping over cans of paint and tool boxes as nimbly as he could muster in his lightheaded hurry. It almost felt like being high, except he was stone cold sober. Just hungry. Dangerously so.

They handed him slats of wood, scraps of pallets given to them by Haley's father's store after deliveries, mostly. Jessica would drive his truck down to the school, open the truck gate, and make all the theater kids unload it while she watched with her arms folded from the top of the cab. Supervising, she called it, but he knew she was just waiting to shout at someone for scraping her dad's truck.

As if anyone could find a spot not already dented and scraped. The truck was a workhorse and it looked it. She just liked to bark at people and be in charge. He couldn't fault her for that.

“Hotchner!” Jess called down to him while he grabbed an arm full of the wood. “You look like shit!” She grinned and he squinted up at her, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said so what?

“What's new?” he asked her and she laughed.

“Fair enough.”

Three trips it took, hauling wood and joking now with Max who had joined the group of kids unloading the packed back of the truck. Most of the wood was junk, they'd never be able to build out of it. Shitty old pine spray painted with blue streaks, nails and splintered bits hanging out dangerously. The kids would loot the pile later to make a bonfire in the woods for one of their keggers, they always did. “She wants to kiss me,” Max said, nodding toward Jessica. “I can see it in her eyes. She definitely wants me.”

Aaron laughed hard and deep. “Yeah. I bet that's it.”

“You don't think I could get her to kiss me?”

“I think you'd have better luck trying just about anywhere else...”

“You got something specific in mind?”

Before Aaron could answer with something clever or cheeky, and he really had some good ones in mind, the toe of his boot caught on the step and down he flew face first. It was so fast, the way his vision had blurred, whited out completely just in time to miss the step. It blinked back in just before he hit the ground. The boards he was carrying flew out of his arms and he narrowly missed impaling himself on a rusty old nail. “Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, struggling to sit upright, to brush himself off. He didn't even want to know who had seen him face plant.

It was bad enough that Max had been right there.

“You alright?” Max asked, a look of real concern on his face. Aaron blinked stupidly for a moment and nodded.

“Yeah, sorry. I missed a step.”

“You missed more than one step, dude. You missed all the steps. You sure you're okay?”

It was humiliating, but it wasn't the end of the world. A few scrapes on his palms and the rest of the afternoon he could feel Max's eyes burning holes in his back. Like he suspected something was wrong. Aaron went back to painting once the wood was hauled in, back to the safety of his gray green ivy that flickered and jumped around in front of his bleary, exhausted eyes. He hadn't slept at all the night before, something was eating at him and he couldn't figure it out...whatever it was just held him wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Missing breakfast to avoid his father in the kitchen wasn't anything new, but working in the library through his lunch hour had been stupid and he was paying for it now. Clumsy steps, shaking hands, blurry vision.

There was an apple in his backpack, a huge juicy green apple. He was salivating just thinking about it but he had a job to finish and he was behind after the incident with the wood so he pushed through. Opening night was barreling down on them and this balcony was the most important part of the entire production. What was Romeo and Juliet without their balcony? It had to be perfect, his ivy would frame Haley's Juliet in majesty and Max would adore her from afar...it was too important to worry about taking a snack break.

He heard stomping sounds and glanced up beneath the thick curtain of his hair to see Max nearly nose to nose with him, standing on the balcony, nearly smearing his freshly painted ivy. “You were about to say something earlier...you know, before you face planted on the stairs? Very cool of you, by the way.”

Max's breath smelled like cinnamon gum and made Aaron feel faint. “Huh?” Feign ignorance. He was focused on the painting. Max wasn't buying it.

“You don't think I could get anyone at this school to kiss me? Anyone I want?”

Max had a certain amount of confidence that came with his don't give a fuck attitude. He was probably not interested in anyone at the whole school, and he definitely didn't play by their rules. No clique could lay claim to him, not even the burnouts who met for their secret meetings beneath the bleachers. He occasionally joined them, bummed some smokes or a joint, but he wouldn't commit to being part of their pack. The theater kids liked to think he was one of them, but he just needed the extra credits to graduate...the closest he got was simply being Aaron's friend.

“I don't think you could get a single person to kiss you.” Aaron said it, but he didn't mean it, because he knew just about anyone would say yes. Even him.

Especially him, if he was being honest, and he was barely able to be honest with himself most days. But this was real, this was true. He'd been thinking about kissing Max since he first met him and something lit on fire inside of him. Had been burning ever since. There was something dangerous about being so completely enamored of a boy like Max who could up and leave at any minute without ever looking back. A congregation in need was all it took, and those were just about everywhere you looked. Sure, they had one here and that was what kept them but Aaron knew they wouldn't put down any roots.

They'd be gone before Max graduated, even if he was trying to rack up credits with a plan. It didn't matter.

“Wanna bet?”

Aaron grinned and they shook on a small bet, and their hands were both sweaty but their eyes locked for a little too long. Aaron would have gladly handed over the five dollars he bet right there if Max would kiss him on the spot.

He ate his apple on the walk home, slowly ambling down the last of the dirt roads that would lead to his house. Stopping to dig a hole and bury his core, he peered down the hill at the creek and the little trailer park to see if he could spot Max up on his roof smoking. He could usually catch him, and it was a simple little wave from the road and a pop in, like he wasn't hoping for it, it was just casual. But not today, Max wasn't up there today so he pushed the dirt over the top of his apple with his still shaky hands and continued on his journey home. With any luck, his father's car would still be gone and he could at least grab something to eat, a piece of bread or something without having to spend more time inside of that house than necessary.

Looking at his father since discovering his secret was nearly impossible. It was like a ticking time bomb, he was just waiting to see the grim reaper standing behind his father, scythe at the ready. He hadn't said a word, not to anyone aside from Jessica and Max, but the way he stared hard at his father and kept his distance was impossible not to notice. His mother had been at his throat more than once, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. “You don't even eat at our table anymore,” she'd scolded and he rolled his eyes and huffed about having too much homework. “All you do is steal food from my kitchen and spend all of your time in that damn treehouse. I'll have your father tear it down.” Well, now he had to eat at her table or stand to lose the most important thing he had. His escape. He had no faith in his father's ability to tear down a treehouse at this point, but he'd find a way to take it from him anyway.

Dinner was on the table when he walked in, and there was his father blistering mad at having to wait for his insolent son. It was only words, though. That was all he could manage, and words stung but they weren't as bad as fists, that was all Aaron could think when he sat down and apologized for being late. “We're behind schedule on the set, I had to stay later to make sure the balcony was done.”

“And now we're all eating cold chicken,” his father spat, slamming a pile of congealed mashed potatoes onto his plate. He sliced a slab of butter and plopped it right on top, staring hard at Aaron while the butter refused to melt.

“I'm sorry.”

Sean had no trouble tearing into the food the minute prayers had been said, but his father was still just staring hard at him. Cold blue eyes spitting flame. “Pass the corn,” he growled at Aaron. It wasn't the worst dinner he'd ever been through, but it was unpleasant and all he could think about was the tree house. He just had to get through his chores and he'd be free. Clear and wipe the table down, wash the dishes and then he could grab his sleeping bag and sleep under the stars.

“We won't wait next time,” his father snapped from behind him, dropping his dishes into the sink with a clatter. Aaron didn't look up from his washing, scrubbing the plates clean of debris and placing them gently into the drainer. “You understand me boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said quietly. There were plenty of words he would have liked to lob at his father, but this was the only way out. The only way to get through this without causing a scene in front of Sean who was seated at the table drinking a glass of milk and coloring something for his teacher. In a flash, so quick he didn't even see it coming, his father's hand was on his shoulder, huge bony fingers that could still grip shockingly tight pressed into his coiled muscles and tight ligaments. Aaron froze, dropped the sponge into the dish water and held in his breath. He never looked up. That would be confrontational and it was the last thing he wanted.

“I don't like your tone,” his father huffed, already slightly out of breath by the exertion but he didn't stop digging the tips of his fingers into Aaron's painful joint. Finally, when his strength was nearly finished, he had a decision to make and Aaron was sure he knew what it would be. He braced himself, squinted his eyes and waited for the open palm across his face. A classic move, tough but simple. Instead, he felt himself being hurled backward through space toward the dinner table. Toward Sean sitting there coloring, humming the Sesame Street theme song to himself. He scrambled, tried to get his footing while his father stalked out of the room but there was no use. For the second time that day, he was landing face first on the ground but this time there would be blood. He saw it first in Sean's now spilled milk, dripping crimson into white, swirling as he struggled to catch his breath through his mouth. His nose was bleeding and he was momentarily suffocating, choking on his own blood. It was only panic, sucking in breath after breath angrily, until he got hold of himself...if for no other reason than that Sean was watching. He pulled his sweater sleeve down over his hand, bunched it up in his fist, and pressed it to his face quickly before Sean could see. It barely hurt anyway. He was just angry.

“Oh, Aaron, what did you do?” his mother asked, dropping to her knees with a towel to sop up the mess. “You never know when to stop do you?”

He didn't do anything, he knew without a doubt that he didn't. He was doing everything by the book. Everything that would normally have meant a nice quiet evening. A quick warning, some kind of alpha male bullshit, maybe a puff of his tail feathers...not this. This was unexpected and new and Aaron was practically vibrating with rage. His father had to know he was in on the secret and that tension was building rapidly. It would come to a bigger blowout than this before long, he knew it now.

“I'm sleeping in the tree house,” he muttered through his busted lip and stalked out of the kitchen quickly, before Sean could see. Maybe someone would survive this house with some dignity. Let it be Sean, he prayed nightly. Please let it be Sean.

But keeping it all from Sean required so much extra work that he was exhausted day and night from the production. No wonder he'd gone into theater. It was too easy.

He wasn't in the tree house long before Max was popping his head up through the entrance, his features golden in the twilight. “Hey loser,” he said, announcing his presence. First came his backpack, tossed up through the hole in the platform, and then came the rest of him. Aaron turned away from him, his sweater covered hand still covering the blood in his lip. His nose had stopped, but the lip just kept breaking back open every time he breathed or moved. It was maddening.

“Woah,” Max said, eyeing the blood soaking his pea green sweater. “What'd you do, pick a fight with the ground again?”

“It's fine. Just an accident.”

Max puffed in disbelief while he rummaged through his backpack that smelled like pickle juice and cigarettes until he found what he was looking for...two ice cold cans of Coca-Cola. “You steal these from the vending machine at the 711?” Aaron's face may have been a mess, but he couldn't help himself.

Max laughed. “No. I bought them, thank you very much. I did steal the smokes though.” He offered one to Aaron, and under normal circumstances he might take it and light it up but he didn't think it sounded very good with his face all busted up. He didn't smoke, not really, but in company it felt like the thing you did...everyone pretended to smoke and secretly hated it. Except Max, he had this James Dean thing going for him and Aaron suspected he really did like it. Would probably keep doing it, maybe for his whole life. But he also had that doomed sort of feeling to him like James Dean too. Max was a spark, not an ember. He was not going to get old.

“Thanks.” It was all Aaron could think to say as he pressed the ice cold can to his throbbing lip. Not exactly what Max had intended it for, maybe, but it was doing wonders. Regarding him in that serene quiet way Max had, Aaron could tell he was putting things together. He wasn't stupid. He lived just down the hill, sounds traveled...everyone in town knew anyway. You couldn't hide a thing like this in a town this size.

“Your nose is broken, like you could afford for that beak to look any worse, but that gash on your chin is gnarly,” Max said finally, pulling a small black tin from his bag. There was a skull and cross bones etched on the front, messy and definitely a home job, not professional in the least. Inside there were band-aids, a little bottle of alcohol, some gauze and a dirty tube of antibiotic ointment. Aaron couldn't help smiling. “What? Standard issue missionary stuff...my dad makes all of us carry first aid.”

“The jolly roger standard issue too?”

“'Course. Didn't you know we were pirates?”

Smiling hurt, but Aaron couldn't help himself. It was only a moment longer before Max had his chin in his hands, wiping at the blood with gauze drenched in rubbing alcohol that stung worse than the original injuries. He held still, though, didn't move a muscle. Hadn't even realized his chin was bleeding too. Max swiped at his nose first, then his lip and finally the gash on his chin before pressing a glob of ointment against it and covering it with a big band-aid. “There. You look like such a dork.”

“Thanks.”

Max, with his dishwater blonde hair hanging in a sheet over his face, looked almost absurdly angelic in the falling sunlight. There were wisps of gold in his unwashed hair that caught the rays in a way that Aaron felt almost blinded by and he turned his eyes back to the cold can in his hand. Coca-cola Classic, not New Coke. His dad liked the new formulation, he said it was better with Jack Daniels. Aaron didn't trust anything his father said about food, the man liked sardines on crackers for breakfast. “Protein, son. You should try it some time. Put some meat on those bones.” The smell about made him gag while he heated up the milk for his oatmeal. “I'll pass. I don't wanna smell like a fisherman all day.”

And so it went with them. Some days were insults lobbed back and forth, some days were hell on Earth.

“Hey...” Max said, bumping Aaron's shoulder. “I got an idea. I know who would kiss me.”

Aaron scrunched his broken nose and he couldn't bring himself to meet Max's stare. Without thinking, Aaron swiped his hand out to the side until he managed to steal the cigarette right out of Max's hand. Drawing an agonizing drag on it, he felt it burn up into his broken nose and fought back tears. He hated it, but he made his choice.

“Don't you wanna know?” Max asked, taking the cigarette back almost indignantly, like he wished he'd never sparked it in the first place. Aaron shouldn't be smoking. This shit was corrosive and he was so...impressionable. Pure in ways Max could never be, not after the life he'd lived. Max stubbed it out on the toe of his boot and sighed.

“You wanna run some lines?” Aaron was the king of deflection. No he didn't want to know who Max thought he could get a kiss from because if it wasn't him...he simply didn't think he could take it. Not after the night he'd had. He would need a little more time to recover from that.

“No.” He paused there and gulped his cola to get rid of the starchy thick feeling in his mouth. “I'll kill your pops, you know. I ever see him lay a hand...”

“Don't say that.” Aaron's chest felt tight . “Don't ever say that.”

“Why? You don't want that bastard dead for what he does to you?”

Aaron swallowed thick and miserable. He wanted to tell Max the truth...he didn't want him to go to prison on his behalf. That was absurd. But Max seemed to understand anyway. They fell silent for a minute and Aaron settled back against the railing, fumbling with the sticky cuff of his sweater. The blood was drying slow in the humid evening air.

“So about that kiss. Cos I need five bucks...but before I say anything...” Max started, hugging his knees to his chest. The temperature was dropping quickly and he was really hoping to get this over with so maybe Aaron would unzip that sleeping bag he had rolled up and maybe they could share it. If this worked out, anyway. Otherwise he'd be hoofing it back home with his tail between his legs. “You and Jessica...you're not...”

Aaron frowned. It was a simple, visceral reaction. “No....ew, no. No.”

"Oh...” Max whispered, reaching out slowly to hold Aaron's hand. First grazing the knuckles with his fingertips, then curling his fingers around the entire thing gently. He wasn't surprised, it probably would have come up by now in the almost year that they'd all been friends. They'd been fast friends, but maybe not good friends...he ran lines with Aaron for whatever play they were mixed up in and he went skinny dipping and smoked weed with Jess. In the summer they'd been thick as thieves but now he was living two separate lives, one for each of them. Strangely enough, he hadn't ever bothered to suss out the nature of their friendship. It was obvious Aaron had a big crush on Haley, he got those cartoon heart eyes when she walked by...but she had a boyfriend, she was no threat to him. In any case, he'd almost been banking on Aaron and Jess having some sort of history, like it was a safety net. If he said yes, he and Jessica were a thing or even had been, he wouldn't have to be brave but now overlooking the thin little stream flowing along the frosty bank, new rocks tumbled down from the mountains and exposed for Sean to play with...he was dumbstruck. He stared at Aaron's hand in his and finally his features melted into an easy honey smile behind his wash of long hair. First he pressed his warm palm to Aaron's, the sizes so similar but starkly different. Max's hands were lean and elegant in shape while Aaron's were blocky, solid.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand...to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” Max's voice was tender, without any of his trademark sarcasm. Aaron's breath caught in his chest, and he'd always considered himself pretty clever, but he hadn't seen this coming. It took him a moment of complete and utter blank staring to parse the act, the line, before he was able to find his voice.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much...which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” Aaron knew every line in the play. He knew the whole thing inside and out, he could sub in for anyone at any time. He wasn't the best actor on the stage but he'd never suffered stage fright and he was as willing to put on a dress as he was to wield a sword in the name of theater.

Smiling, he felt Aaron's fingers twitch beneath his and he slowly brought that hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there. Right against the quickening pulse beneath the thin skin on his wrist.

Aaron, flushing, started to laugh nervously but Max's hand was on his shoulder, then cradling his neck and pulling him in close. He started to quote something else but Aaron shook his head, he was done with Romeo. He had no interest in kissing Romeo, that was for Juliet.

He only wanted Max. Even if it was going to cost him five bucks.

#aaron hotchner #jessica brooks #original male character #aaron hotchner x original male character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bad things happen bingo #masterwords does bad things bingo #teenage aaron hotchner

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protect-daniel-james · 7 months

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This tiny bit of an old interview with Unai after he came to Valencia (I found it in Japanese, don't mind me), so he apparently can cook and he never considered himself to be good-looking (we been known). also, what the hell is this fashion look?

─ When you are at home, are you able to calm down a bit? 'Basically, I'm constantly on my toes. I don't rest. I hardly ever sit down, let alone rest, so my family often teases me about being a 'workhorse'. When I do sit down, it's usually in front of the computer, but that's also when I'm watching a game or working. What they really feel bad about is when they see me talking on the phone too often. Lander (son) tells me to quit the long phone calls."

─ ─ Do you like to eat good food? 'I do like to eat. I lived alone for a long time, so I like to eat at home. Fish dishes, meat dishes, salads, pasta … I think I'm a good enough cook to invite someone to my house.'

─ Do you feel that you are a good-looking man or an attractive man? 'Neither. I have never felt that I am good-looking or attractive. Not even once."

─ ─ My female colleagues say you are a good-looking man. 'Umm… maybe I'm better than I used to be [laughs] My wife says I'm better looking now than I was ten years ago. But I myself have never felt that way, neither ten years ago nor now.'

─ So do you consider yourself fashionable? 'I think my sense of style has improved as I've got older. I like to wear good clothes now. In the past, I didn't attach much importance to such things. I chose mostly for comfort. When I was working, I always wore sportswear and sweated. Things have changed between then and now. I have to be aware of my image abroad and I pay more attention."

#it's a lie he was better looking in 2008 than in 1998 lets be honest #his worst look was 2000-2006 i'd say (dork with glasses era)#unai emery #also not unai being mr. fashion

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toxics-sims-adventures · 7 months

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I made a tier list for what I think are the best worlds to reasonably start a horse ranch. The criteria took forever to test, so I limited myself to a central lot in each neighborhood of each world (to test if the horse will go to the farthest, out of the way lot on it's own or not) and only tested the "Go for an energetic Ride" interaction instead of clicking the ground everywhere to "Trot Here". I'm also cheating my horse's and sim's needs to full because tired horses will cancel the interaction faster. The criteria judged: Automatic pathing from going on an energetic ride, the world's theme and my capability to suspend my disbelief that someone would start a horse ranch in a suburb, and any glitches from my horse phasing through decor and lots during the "Go for a Ride" interaction. I spent three days on this for some reason. This is a cry for help.

Best in Show - Good pathing and thematically on point when it comes to horse ranching, even if it's not western themed. Henford-On-Bagley: Cottage style ranch is a yes. Finchwick's village isn't very big and the houses are blocked by stairs but I didn't expect the village center to be a good location for a horse ranch anyway. Old New Henford and the Bramblewood have a lot of dirt trails and the horse will go down many of them, even to some of the set dressing sheds. The Isle of Volpe Park is landlocked though, despite having numerous footpath bridges that lead away from the park. Moonwood Mills: (Forest, dirt paths, lots of room to run? Sounds perfect but now I have to test it.) STUNNING FLAWLESS IMMACULATE (why do i have post apocalyptic vibes, like a cross between silent hill and the last of us?) The horse will do a full circuit around Moonwood Mill and because it's designed with pathing for the werewolves to feral run, the horse has plenty of space and nature to do the same. Even with the grungy warehouse setdressing, the horse doesn't feel out of place. Post apocalyptic or workhorse ranches would fit in well here. Chestnut Ridge: literally made for the horses and thematically perfect for horse rides. I actually think (due to how the Sims 4 is structured to be so empty) that while this world also has a lot of set dressing, it's fitting for the wide stretches of fuckall to actually see or do when it's a horse trail.

Pretty Good - Good pathing and acceptable to see a horse trotting through the landscape Forgotten Hollow: Immaculate vibes for a headless horseman. And aside from Straud's graveyard and the coffin courtyard, the lots are entirely customizable without debug setdressing houses to shame you for style deviation. The world is very small but the pathing goes through the town square and a bit into the woods. Unless your starting point is Straud's mansion, your horse will mainly use the coffin road and the dirt paths through the trees before coming back. Brindleton Bay: Whiskerman's wharf has a route to let the horse wander from Catarina Lynx's house to Tail's End (which has a backdrop of old wooden fencing that feels very appropriate for a ranch) to Club Calico and back again, ignoring the Salty Paws Saloon and Ragdoll Refurb lots. Since the saloon is even farther on the pier and the Ragdoll Refurb is in a much more suburbia city like area, it felt fitting that a ranch wouldn't be in such places and the horse wouldn't go there. Sable Square has very wide brick roads in front of the vet/park and residential lots connected by a wide bridge. The pathing doesn't go through the dirt paths tho. Cavalier Cove has a decently long path through the beach areas but won't go to the Hound's Head lot unless you start there. Deadgrass Isle has good routing, not just pacing in front of the museum, the horse actually walks around on the dirt path to the lighthouse and goes into the cemetery. Sulani: Surprisingly good pathing (no attempts to go horse swimming) that goes throughout the Lani St. Taz island, and the lack of paved roads (and my increasingly beloathed sidewalks) feels more natural. Tropical horse ranch, anyone? The horse does avoid the northernmost lot because of the skinny stretch of sand linking it to the island but that would put the horse a bit too close to the water and possibly make it try to swim. Ohan'ali Town has a coastside path that is surprisingly long but the horse won't go up to the lot near the waterfalls. Mua Pel'am pathing goes from the volcanic lot to the little beach past the mystery cave and back again, which wasn't very surprising, Mua Pel'am is not a large neighborhood and one of the three lots is an empty island. (Honestly thought this entire world was going to be completely awful.) Copperdale: As an old refurbished Mining town it looks fitting for a horse to come through for decades challenges. The horse will go all the way around Copperdale High and up to the front of the auditorium, but it won't go to the track in the football field behind the high school. Around Prescott Square, the horse will go all around town, visitng all the lots including the Prescott household. Plumbite Cove is one part the Pier, one part cannery row, and most parts forested dirt roads. The pathing leads from the rental lot all the way to Totter Park, completely ignoring the LaSuli Point starter lot.

Okay - Pathing is acceptable but the theme isn't particularly welcoming in most of the world. Windenburg: Half of the map is city area and the horse does get around well but does not look thematically appropriate when trotting around the cafe and bars. All of the single lot neighborhoods don't allow great pathing, but for the Ruins and the Von Haunt Estate it's a little bit better than the horse pacing back and forth in front of one mansion. The Crumbling Isle and the Windslar neighborhoods are better placements for a horse ranch and have decent pathing through the area, though the Windslar's path has a very 'cottage roads' theme to it, it's not a sidewalk but a brick path leading from lot to lot. San Sequoia: The world feels a lot more like certain places in Monterey County than the inspiration of San Francisco, if considerably emptier, and I remember horses being rode through town the few times we went to those places as a kid. The world is HUGE and the horse trotting through Anchorpoint Wharf feels like a novel sight someone WOULD see in my experience, but not a great place to build a ranch. In Hopewell Hills, the horse will go through the park on automatic pathing.

Less than Ideal - Pathing isn't fabulous but it's got enough room to visit on horseback, the theme probably does not fit. Del Sol Valley: The theme is atrocious for a ranch. The pathing in Mirage Park is mostly the sidewalks but also surprisingly went behind the two lots across the street from Venessa Jeong's house but not behind hers. Starlight Boulevard is a city center that is not welcoming to a horse trotting around, the pathing is surprising as the horse actually walks in the street rather than the sidewalks though it does avoid walking near Studio BP and the stars walk. The Pinnacles has lots that are certainly big enough for some kind of Hollywood Ranch but the neighborhood pathing is stuck to the sidewalks despite the roads available, unless the horse is cutting through a street to reach another sidewalk or through the grass 'island' in front of Judith Ward's house. No pathing to the overlook behind her house either despite it having ramps instead of stairs. Glimmerbrook: I am not taking the horse to the magic realm. There's no sidewalks! :D But the horse only takes the paved road and ignores the dirt paths and all the lots unless it's the one you started from. A good place aesthetically for a horse ranch but not for gameplay. Evergreen Harbor: I can't suspend my disbelief that a suburb is a place for a ranch. Horse paths follow human sim paths. Won't go over the bridge in Port Promise unless you start at the Sterling household. Will walk all the way over to the Greenburg household. Grimms Quarry, the pathing is almost all sidewalks, the horse won't go near the apartments but will go to the quarry building. In Connifer Station the horse won't use the 'car' roads but will walk all around. Tartosa: Laurent Mansion is landlocked. Anything with stairs isn't pathable to a horse. I had hopes, Tartosa has long extinguished them. (Okay, Melancholy over.) I restarted at the Baia Dell'amore beach lot. There's a lot of area the horse WILL cover that isn't the Laurent mansion. Including the island linked by a stone bridge. It's a little weird looking because it's a Mediterranean city, so I don't think a ranch will fit in. In the Terra Amarosa Neighborhood, the horse would path from Via Romanza to the Markovic household and back, completely ignoring half the neighborhood, the waterfalls, and the Rifugio dei Pirati lot. No waterfall horse rides for us :(

Not Great - The pathing is stagnant or the world is too small. Willow Creek: The horse will just pace in front of the houses and look extremely out of place in almost all of the neighborhoods. The only place with decent pathing that doesn't look like a wayward cowboy is stalking your suburb is the park and it has decent pathing but little else. The sylvan glade has zero pathing for horses, my horse took two steps and the interaction cancelled. Good for screenshots, bad for gameplay. San Myshuno: Horses are not allowed inside of the apartment buildings, let alone the apartments themselves, limiting almost all residential options in the world. Makes sense, putting a horse in an elevator sounds like chaos. Limited pathing that isn't sidewalk and clip clop clipping on the paths in Uptown. The horse would go into some odd places further than expected but the world's neighborhoods are mostly too small for a decent run. The only exception is the San Myshuno park, which has a decently long trail for a horse. Changing the park's lot type to a residential would make this an okay place to build a ranch but thematically clash with all the little history signs littered through the landscape and set dressing garden. Strangerville: (God help me.) I'm not bothering to take the horse to the secret lab. The world is Western themed, but it is not Wild Western Country themed despite the cowboy hat and boots. Rusty Canyon is mostly desert cityscape and the pathing is strictly sidewalk bound, though it does go farther than I expected. The horse did not approach the crashed plane lot, so unless you start a ranch there, your horse will not automatically travel the dirt roads in that desert section. (The centralmost lot was the starter home across from the Sigworth household.) Shady Acres has TINY sidewalks and the horse will constantly swivel to avoid 'collision' with npcs and also plant decor, which at higher speeds looks like your horse is glitching out but isn't, and is primarily sidewalk bound despite the dirt paths other sims will travel along behind the houses. The only pathing off the sidewalk was the driveway up to the Roswell household.

Absolutely not - The pathing is awful. Oasis Springs: The automatic pathing is strictly stuck to the sidewalks and the horse mostly just paces in front of two or three homes going back and forth despite there being other areas that other sims will walk along. You can force the horse to go somewhere else but the world's neighborhoods also aren't big enough or detailed enough for better places to force the horse to go just to take screenshots. The park does not have a path to follow, the horse will just pace the front of the park and cross the street before turning right back around to pace in front of the park again. Newcrest: Same issues as Oasis Springs. Magnolia Promenade: The horse will only pace on the sidewalk along the sides of The Roadstead and JF&S Clothier shops, continuing down the sidewalk next to the set dressing garden, completely ignoring actually going into the park areas. Again, you can force the horse to go through the set dressing garden or over to the bistro tables for screenshots but it absolutely does not fit horses appropriately. Brightchester: No. Just. No. The town is all townhouses and university dorms. The pathing is all sidewalks. Don't build a ranch here. Mt Komorebi: Most of the hiking trails are inaccessible to horses due to being blocked by stairs as an entry. The horse is very out of place in the city areas. At the actual mountain the pathing won't go past the rental houses despite most of the hiking trails not being blocked by stairs as an entry.

Why did I willingly choose to do this

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 horse ranch #the sims 4 horse ranch

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1ore · 2 years

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Hey, sorry if this is a bit out of the blue, but can I ask what programs/brushes you use? I've been trying to learn how to paint digitally, but it often feels so sterile, and I really struggle with it. I envy how well you are able to achieve a traditional look with digital tools, and would love to learn your secret.

I'd love to see a tutorial/process video by you too honestly, but that's more just wishful thinking - I know you probably have a lot going on.

Cheers, either way! (And wish me luck)

oh my god. I went and did all that organizing and almost forgot to let you know! I put together a tag containing all of my resources/materials/art process stuff. It also has every timelapse video I've done. Each video has process rambling + lists of brushes / materials used in their YT descriptions.

I have a hard time talking about my process like I'm any kind of authority, but I tried to think about it a little and share whatever i've found helpful, answer questions I've been asked in the past or struggled with myself, etc.

Re: emulating traditional media specifically:

ok, first of all. Disclaimer: it's not all about the tools.

but if you're a hack like me it sure feels that way!!!!

When I moved from Photoshop to Clip Studio Paint, a big growing pain for me was finding real media tools that felt good to use. It's pretty obvious in the art I made during that time. Both the tools that ship with the program and the tools made by the community felt like they for completely different styles/workflows than mine. It was a struggle to adjust, and I'm still feeling it-- I don't feel like I have *my* sketch brush, or *my* workhorse painting brush. I miss my brick shithouse lineart every day ):

BUT. but. I've found some keepers along the way. Even the ones that aren't perfect analogs are still pretty great at what they're meant to do. If you're thinking about using Photoshop or Clip Studio Paint, then I can share those toolsets-- I list a few of them in my 'about', and I talk about them in more detail on those timelapse vids. I'm very picky about how my tools handle so they're probably not for everyone, but maybe you'll find something that makes digital art a little more bearable in there.

There's also a lot to be said for the little things, like slapping a paper texture on that bad boy and calling it a day. Even just applying textures to the canvas before you draw does a lot to make the drawing experience feel like it has... idk... warmth, dynamism. Tooth. It's cozier in there when I can see the paper. Admittedly it's been so long since I last looked at my sketchbook that the harsh fluorescent lights of the blank canvas no longer faze me, but it's still good for the eyes and the soul.

Other tools/programs:

Apart from the stuff I use(d) in my main workflow, I've also played with some other programs that are specifically geared towards emulating traditional media.

Realistic Paint Studio - Reasonably priced real media art program that has a decently beginner-friendly interface. This is probably the one program that came with brushes I genuinely liked, right out of the box. They feel good to use + the engine does a pretty nice job of emulating wet media in particular.

Some draws:

^^^ This was a style emulation of the wonderful Fiachmara's art, and also a gift to her, featuring her character Gealach. Didn't originally intend on sharing this publicly, but I think it illustrates this program's knack for inks.

It can also do most of the digital art cheats that I need to do in Clip-- it has analogs for the selection tool, layers, clipping masks, etc. It does not have a brush editor, so you need to be sure that you like the brushes it ships with. I also find that none of the brushes scale up large enough to accommodate absurdly large canvases (5000x5000px+ ) so you'll be stuck working at... well... normal canvas sizes. (Gealach above was about 2000 px wide before resizing-- pretty reasonable LOL)

My only real complaint is you can't export your art without the canvas texture applied to it. One time the textures bugged out on me, and I couldn't get them to fix themselves (you can see the carnage here, RIP.) I've been scared that it'll do that again to me someday, but it's been completely stable apart from this one random flub.

And hey, it's got an Actually Good Pencil Brush, so. There's that.

Rebelle 5 - hoo boy this is big $$$$$, but the brush engine in this one is just. bonkers yonkers cool for emulating real media, especially oil, acrylic, and watercolor. (I'm admittedly lukewarm on its charcoal and pencil brushes. You can create your own brushes, but there's not a huge community that's into making custom brushes yet.)

It's a mighty little art program as far as I can tell. Has most of the bells and whistles Clip does, which is a lot of things that programs like Realistic generally won't have, but are kinda necessary if you want to get into the weeds with like... Advanced Digital Art Skullduggery. (things like gradient maps and tools for ripping lineart from scanned drawings. I think that's honestly it, as far as things I do in clip that are clip-exclusive.)

Doodles:

Rebelle asks you to think like a traditional artist when you're using its tools, particularly its watercolors. Ironically, I Do Not Like This! I want to have my cake (real media tools) and eat it too (dont want to use my brain). But I think it might appeal to you for bringing some of the process into the digital space. If nothing else, it's novel to watch the paint dry.

(thats a real mechanic in rebelle)

((its fantastic, but I am allergic to it (see point one) (((dont want to use my brain ): )))))

if you play with the demo and find that it scratches that real media itch for you, might be worth reaching out for a student discount or something like that. They have educator licenses and student licenses and generally seem like a pretty accommodating lot.

Another disclaimer: these are just the tools that I've played with recently and have used enough times to talk about. There's lots of other stuff out there that I've tried but didn't like, and it could very well be that I didn't like them for the same reasons that you'll love them. There's a ton of really good free/open source programs in particular that I feel like I would be using if I didn't already have my workspace carved out. Krita and MyPaint stick out in my mind. (MyPaint was my main program for a Long time in highschool. come remember my baby art with me. )

ok its 3 am I need to close this out:

I'm tapping my other disclaimer again. Tools are not the end-all-be-all of making digital art that emulates traditional media. Pieces like No Dominion and this pic of Dia and co. required some actual neurons to fire when I was figuring out how to tackle them. But for me, finding the right tools and creating the right workspace for myself was a stupidly big part of getting comfortable with digital art. I have to take care of the little QOL things like that before I can even begin to worry about the big things OTL

#uncaptioned #my brain is a scrambled egg. if I reread this in the morning and it doesnt make any fucking sense: sorry!!!!!!!!#but THANK YOU for reaching out I hope something in there catches your interest.#I talked an inordinate amount about tools because I talk more about process stuff in the tag above + on those vids #and i hadnt really talked about how weirdly important it was for me to have these cheap gimmicks to make art look Good #before i could worry about the bigger things like studying the blade #really anything that lowers the barriers to Having Fun is vitally important to me #1ore doesn't want to use her art blog

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cookinguptales · 9 months

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Hello! could I please have a reading with the mushroom deck? thank you! 🙏🍄

Of course!

(Three of Cups, Knight of Pentacles (reversed), Five of Pentacles) (Common Button Mushroom, Thailand White Truffle, Dead Man's Hand/False Truffle)

Lot of fives this evening... don't love that...

On the other hand, I do really love the Three of Cups in this deck. lmao. I love the use of Merry Mushroom canisters; I love those and would love to have them in my kitchen.

So... let's start with the positive. The Three of Cups is always a lovely card to have around. It's a card of togetherness, love, and teamwork. It speaks to the support system you have in your life, whether that's family, found family, friends, or partners. These are the people who love you, who support you, and will help you through all your tough times.

The downside is... well, you might need to rely on that support system. We'll start out with the Knight of Pentacles. This is typically a very positive card. It's hardworking, reliable, down-to-earth... This card is a workhorse, y'know? You can depend on it. That said, when reversed... well. There are two ways to read this card. The first is that you're not reliable. You may be shirking your responsibilities and letting down the people in your life. Or -- and this one can be the killer -- you can be too hardworking. You might be a perfectionist or a workaholic. You may be working so hard that you derive no enjoyment or satisfaction from your job anymore. And that's a problem.

Finally, we have the Five of Pentacles. *sigh* Fives are trouble, aren't they? The Five of Pentacles seems to indicate some kind of material loss, whether that's money, possessions, or health. Moreover, there's a sense of helplessness to it, I think. You want someone to help you, but no one is. You feel abandoned. You feel like there's no one who can help. Maybe you've given up.

That said... we do still have the Three of Cups. People might have felt alienated from you a little bit (whether because of you not making time for them due to overwork or maybe not giving them your all) but that doesn't mean they don't still love you. And you might feel like you're all alone, but you don't have to be. I recommend reaching out for help if you're struggling, even if you feel like some of your relationships have deteriorated. Things can always be fixed, and you don't have to do this alone.

#tarot shenanigans

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cococowboah · 1 year

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Hail Santa!

Sharing a bit of this because I'm genuinely loving how it's turning out. A snippet from Hail Santa!

TW: mentions of taking ones own life, religiously-typical homophobia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan Rodriguez has been my best friend since birth. Our families were thick as thieves, or as close as fellow Jehovah’s Witness families could go.

I knew early on that Alan was different from me. For example, he actually gave a shit about going to meetings, studying, and doing well in service. At age 11, he was working towards the goal of getting baptized. I had to be dragged along that path by my earlobe, because my parents insisted that I get baptized at the same time as him. By the time we were 14, he had 3 ongoing bible studies and was averaging 70 hours in service per month. The boy was a workhorse for the cult, and yet no matter how much he gave, he constantly told me that he didn’t feel like he was doing nearly enough.

In between his busy schedule of bible thumping and forcing a cult down the throats of the masses, Alan spent his time with me, playing videogames, going to the park, listening to music together. He was like a brother to me, the closest thing I ever had to one, and my parents couldn’t approve more because of what an excellent record he held in the hall.

Around 16, the cracks in my best friend’s facade of faith began to show. While showing me something on his phone, I caught sight of a tab that seemed a bit… gay.

I was well aware that anything with a rainbow on it was to be avoided at all costs, unless it was made directly by Watchtower. I was taught that the rainbow had been hijacked by the gays, a beautiful thing now tarnished by the homosexuals.

But maybe with a name like XGayHub, Alan was seeking a space for ex-homosexuals? Maybe he was struggling with the tendencies and was requesting advice from fellow ex-gay men.

So I looked up the website at home and, nope. It was porn. Gay porn. Very very gay porn.

I felt at a loss. I just caught my best friend looking at gay porn and, oddly enough, I didn’t care. Alan liked men, so the hell what?

But wasn’t I told again and again and again that homsexuality was wrong? Well, yeah, I was. But, I hadn’t been convinced. The way homosexuality was discussed among Jehovah’s Witnesses was different depending on who was speaking.

In private, especially older Witnesses were known to say some unsavory and hateful things about LGBT people in general. I once saw a mother and father proudly declare that they had kicked their 18 year old daughter out of the home for catching her in a homosexual act with another sister. The other girl’s parents did not kick their daughter out, they left the religion and were seen as outcasts from that day forward, an entire family disfellowshipped for refusing to abandon their daughter, ridiculed by our entire congregation until this very day, becoming a warning for any other parents who may find they love their children more than God’s supposed command to shun them.

Watchtower’s public stance on homosexuality is that it is wrong, but that the person committing the act should not be harassed or hurt because of his lifestyle. They repeat again and again that the bible does not condone the act alone, that the person is still worthy of God’s love, that they can change, that others should not judge them too harshly or beat them into submission.

At 18, Alan confessed to me that he was gay. He went on to say that he was tired of trying to hide it, fight it, deny it. He never found a woman attractive, and the devastation that he was experiencing from being expected to remain celibate and single for his entire life was eating him up too much to bear.

So I told him, “then go get a boyfriend.”

He looked at me, his face full of disgust. “And seal my fate as a monster to God?” He shook his head. “When I say I am done with trying to fight this, I don’t mean I want to engage in my desires.”

“Well then what do you mean?”

“I mean, with God willing, I will be ending my life and my earthly desires along with it. Jehovah willing, I will meet you in paradise, fresh and free of sinful temptations.”

I was in shock, could hardly speak. “Alan, you can’t!”

“It’s either end my life right now while I am free of physical sin, or find myself waist deep in a homoerotic centered bathhouse by the end of the year!”

“Jesus Christ, Alan, relax. Being gay ain’t the worst thing in the world. In ten years these fucking nutjobs will probably be all gun ho about accepting the alphabet people once their rank and file die off from old age.”

“Kai!” He grabbed my shoulders, terror in his eyes. “What is this apostate speak?!”

“I ain’t an apostate, I’m saying you are who you are and I personally don’t think God’s got any issue with who you wanna sleep with.”

“How deep does this go, Kai? Have you been on JWfacts? You haven’t been watching John Cedars have you?!”

I pushed him away. “No, Alan! You’re my brother! Unlike this cult I give a shit about you and I won’t let you take your own life over something as menial as getting a boner for guys.”

“The Bible condemns these acts!”

“Where, Alan? Where specifically does the bible state that-”

“Leviticus 18:22, You shall not lie with a man as with a woman; it is an abomination.”

“You had that one ready, didn’t you?”

He held his body close. “I repeat it like a mantra. It’s my sword for when anyone, even a fellow brother, attempts to steer me wrong.”

“Alright, well, what’s the bible say about suicide then?”

He held himself closer, turned towards the window. “I don’t know.”

I sighed. “I won’t sit here and act like I know more about the bible than you do, Alan. But what I do know is that if God would rather you take your own life than live it out happily with someone who loves you, that someone being another man or not, then that’s not a loving and all-knowing God. That’s the opinion of a few men who need a reason to hate what they don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it either! I have done everything perfectly, all of my life. I can’t comprehend why I was cursed with these desires. I was prepared to battle a flood of hormones demanding that I fondle and grope every woman I met after puberty, but to be suddenly enraptured by thoughts and daydreams of fellow men day and night, nothing could prepare me for this!”

“You thought you’d want to fondle and grope women after puberty?”

“I never liked women prior, I assumed that would be my downfall. My father and mother prepared me for my blooming into my teen years, warned me that women would be all over me, being what most would describe as a pretty boy.” He touched his face, his features, lightly. “I expected to fight my way through singlehood while pursuing a career as a pioneer, to one day meet a beautiful godly woman and marry, my troubles would end in a swirl of blissful fidelity. But I was wrong. I will never meet a satisfying conclusion to my desires, not while maintaining my stance with God.”

I knew it wasn’t fair to keep insisting to him that God didn’t care about him being gay, because to him, God did care. And to Alan, God hated him for his glaring imperfection, his desire to go against his bodily design and lay down atop a fellow man the way he believed he should with a woman.

Or vice versa, I never took Alan for a top if we’re being honest.

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solar-pxwered · 2 years

Text

In which Nami makes good on her promise to make Sanji work off his debt to her for his betrayal and regretful words are spoken.

One-Shot No warnings. Just good old fashioned angst and hurt/comfort dynamics. A little hint of my shipping preference tossed in there. Maybe I'll continue this and make it way more shippy and smutty, who knows? Knowing myself, probably.

-------- will put a readmore here as soon as I get on my laptop, but tumblr mobile sucks and I don't know how to put one here anymore on the app ------------

I'm going to drive you like a horse.

That was the promise she had made to him so sternly when they'd had a moment alone in that hallway...and it was a promise she was holding herself to firmly.

Drive him she did. Any chore needing done on the Sunny, no matter how trivial or how difficult, was given to him. Chopper needed help organizing? Sanji was on it. Franky needed help fixing? Sanji was there. Bathroom needed a deep clean? Sanji's job now. Deck needed a good swab? Not good enough...Sanji was going to scrub the ENTIRE ship with a cloth, bucket and good old fashioned elbow grease. The sails needed to be furled or raised? Sanji was the one sent running to the main sail while Zoro had been demoted to the rear. Sure, the heavy main sail would be easier for Zoro whose upper body strength far surpassed the cook's, but that would defeat the purpose.

One problem with her little slave driver plan...he wasn't resisting even a little bit, in fact he took on every task she gave him with no complaints and a smile and even an enthusiastic "Of course, Nami-san." It wasn't at all the contrition and penance she had hoped to see. She wanted him to regret his betrayal, to feel just a hint of the pressure she had felt on her body and soul in his absence as she took over his work and existed in the empty space he left, she wanted him to suffer as she had and it just wasn't fair that he wasn't even fazed by her workload.

And so she upped the ante.

She began waking him up in the middle of the night with outlandish requests for midnight snacks of the most random or complicated variety she could come up with and assigning him to more than his fair share of night watches; she was pleased to see the sleep deprivation was beginning to take a toll on his cheerful compliance. His shoulders were slumped as he worked now, his pace was slowing even when it came to cooking the meals, she caught him rubbing at his red and heavy eyes frequently, and his grinning "Of course, Nami-san"s were a thing of the past.

Even so, he never complained or asked her to let up on him. He took every midnight wake up call in stride and never fell asleep on watch, he scrubbed the deck on hands and knees every day and left it perfectly squeaky clean, no job assigned was half-assed.

And it pissed Nami off more than ever. She was happy he was back safe and sound but it didn't seem fair to her that he should get off scott free like Luffy had allowed. She was not so lenient on betrayal as their Captain. Those two may have settled things in that field, but she had gotten no such closure yet.

The crew had all begun to give him sympathetic looks when Nami would order him to help one of them out, they would insist they could manage on their own but she insisted harder. Still, no one spoke up against her because everyone knew this was something she needed to do to move past it and so they let her take out her frustration while giving Sanji apologetic little smiles. Chopper had spoken out at one point but Nami had silenced him with a glare that had left him leaking little tears out of his eyes as he went back to crushing herbs.

Even Zoro, who had initially been very amused by the workhorse role given to the cook, had winced and very nearly resisted when Sanji showed up to take watch for the third night in a row. He had settled on a silent exchange of understanding between the two of them and then a muttered "If you need me, you know where to find me" before retiring to the bunks.

Usopp, Brook and Luffy attempted to make any chore he was given that was a task they themselves should be doing less of a burden by telling jokes and trying to make him laugh. It worked sometimes, but not nearly as much as it used to.

Robin was the one who took actual, physical initiative to alleviate the burden on Sanji's shoulders and Nami was annoyed to see a second pair of hands frequently working alongside the blonde while their owner sat in a deck chair reading as if nothing was amiss. Sneaky, Robin, but not sneaky enough to get past Nami's observant gaze.

Something had to give, she knew it and he knew it and everyone knew it...but she refused to budge, he was going to break first and once he was begging for her to let him get back to his normal duties and get some decent sleep THEN she would let up. But he didn't, he showed no signs of begging for anything, and it was irksome.

Nothing lasts forever and strings pulled so tight were bound to fray and snap eventually, and everything came to a head one early morning during a request for sugared tangerine peels at 2 AM on his night off from watch.

"Sugared tangerine peels is definitely a new one." Sanji commented as he sliced expertly around the fruits just deep enough to penetrate the peel but not the flesh underneath. His skills remained sharp even in his exhausted state, the dark circles under his eyes and the heavy downward turn of his lips were the only signs of how tired he truly was. Normally he was all smiles when cooking anything, especially if it was for her or Robin.

"I just had a craving, that's all." Nami replied, checking her nails as if this whole situation was a bore to her. Secretly though, she was admiring the skillful way his hands worked at the task. She had always been fascinated by how naturally he fit in the kitchen, like he didn't even need to think about what he was doing at all. She had taken on the role of cook in his absence and she hadn't been nearly as good or fast...but she had managed to keep the crew fed and alive anyway. It was hard work, providing for that many people, three meals a day. She had to admit that he earned his keep.

"Happy to make you anything you want, Nami-swan." His sentiment was the usual, but even though she knew he meant it as seriously as ever, there was a weariness in his tone that hadn't been there before and Nami smirked at the realization he was beginning to fold under the pressure.

So why not add a little bit more? Just for fun, of course, because it was always so easy...and she would never admit out loud that she had begun to miss his normal, lust-filled gaze; it had been replaced by exhaustion for a while now. So she waited until he had turned to place the newly removed peels on the tray he had set on the counter between and then she stretched her arms over her head, purposely accentuating and pushing forward her chest that was covered only by her very thin and lacy sleep camisole. She added a cherry on top by making a very sensual sound as she stretched the sleep induced tension from her muscles. Sanji's throat bobbed as he swallowed tightly, she noticed, and she caught his gaze on her chest a moment before he noticed her watching him and he averted his eyes immediately. Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction she wanted...how could she tease him if he refused to even look at her long enough for it to count?

"See something you like?" She asked, her tone deadpan.

"Everytime I see you."

What kind of response was that? Honest and open and infuriatingly innocuous.

Annoyed that her little plan had failed, she crossed her arms and leaned back from the counter, pouting slightly with her brow furrowed. She didn't know how to respond to that so she went back to observing him instead. He worked silently, laying the peels out perfectly even on the baking tray, but then she noticed the tiniest trickle of red descending on his upper lip. A nosebleed, of course, but a singular drop from flared nostrils and not the typical steady flow. She found herself even more annoyed that he'd managed to keep his composure even when her little display HAD effected him after all.

"Why do you always do that?" She griped, gesturing vaguely at him.

"Do what?" He finally looked up at her again, wiping away the small drop of blood with the back of his left arm and quirking his stupid, singularly visible curly eyebrow at her questioningly.

That made her even more annoyed, the swirl above his blue eye reminded her of where he came from and the secrets he'd hid from them all for so long; her mind filled with the leering gazes of his brothers when they'd seen her and her gut twisted at the memory of the look in Sanji's own eyes when he had looked at her. Not sexually like his brothers, but with such intense hatred she was sure she would burn up on the spot.

"Flare your nose like that?" She clarified, hotly. "It's like you're trying to smell me or something. You can't, can you?"

For the first time since she'd woken him up, his lips quirked in an amused smile.

"Of course not. Not from over here."

"Well, how am I supposed to know what you're capable of?" Her tone was cold, accusing, and his smile faltered. She should have taken that as a cue not to say anything more, that he had received the message loud and clear, but her words spilled out too fast for her brain to stop them. "You're a failed science experiment, after all."

The silence that followed her statement was deafening and her regret was instantaneous, but there was no taking it back and she knew it. The line that she had been toeing so carefully between reasonable punishment and pure sadism had not only been crossed, she had practically made a leap from one side to the other. The way he was looking at her made her feel sick to her stomach, she had never seen such an expression on his face before and she never, ever wanted to see it again.

She couldn't speak. He couldn't speak. Neither of them made a sound. They just stared at each other for what must have been mere seconds but felt like an eternity.

"Sanji...." she began, not even knowing where to go from here, but she closed her mouth almost immediately. To her absolute horror, tears had begun to well up in Sanji's eyes and she felt her heart plummet to her belly.

He broke their staring contest first, ducking his head and turning his back to her, shaking hands reaching into his pockets to find a cigarette and his lighter. He pulled one out and put it between his lips and it shook there too. His lighter's flame shook as well from a mixture of his unsteady hands and the staccato rhythm of the very quick and short breaths he was taking. The flame burnt out and he tried again. After four tries, he managed to light up and he pulled in such a deep drag that Nami found her own lungs burning in sympathy.

When he finally released the long held breath, smoke billowing out around him, the full weight of her words struck Nami solidly in the chest and her own eyes began to tear up. She knew the details of his unfortunate past, she knew why he had done what he had done, she knew everything that had happened to him while they were separated, and she finally saw him with eyes unclouded by betrayal and anger. This is was still her Sanji in front of her, the same idiot who had fallen for her the second he'd seen her on the Baratie, the same fool who had sacrificed himself for her safety over and over again, the same moron who would do anything for a mere whim of hers to become reality, and the same man who had seen no opportunity to save his crew again without taking it all on his own shoulders. Not a failed anything, but her friend. Maybe her BEST friend. Maybe more...? But she'd been treating him like a prisoner, like someone she felt nothing for, making him suffer more than he already had.

Judge Vinsmoke's final words to his son as they had passed by him after stealing Sanji back rang in her head. She had sounded just like that horrible demon of a man just then and she hated herself for it!

"That was..." she tried to speak again but Sanji interrupted her this time.

"How you really felt." He finished her sentence for her, although not at all what she would have said. His tone was flat and empty, lacking the pain and tearful choke she thought it would have held. The nicotine in his veins must have been doing it's job; he was calm. Too calm. "And also the truth."

"It's NOT!" Nami let go of every ounce of anger she'd been holding onto in that moment, pushing the tray of carefully arranged tangerine peels out of her way so she could launch herself across the counter to stand in front of him, reaching out to grab his shirt, fisting it firmly in her clenched hands. "It's not the truth and it's not how I really feel!"

His calm tone had been a carefully maintained wall, she knew as soon as she looked at him. His voice may have come off calm and collected but his face told a whole other story. His eyes were no longer just brimming with tears, they were freefalling off of his long, dark lashes and sliding down his reddened cheeks. His jaw was trembling from the effort of holding everything inside, but it was what she could see in the blue tinted windows to his soul that got to her most of all: understanding.

Understanding because he truly believed what she had said, what everyone said about him, what he's been told over and over again.

"It's okay, Nami, you're not wrong," He managed to get the words out somehow, however stiffly they left his mouth, "I just didn't expect to hear you say it."

Her grip on his oversized sleeping shirt tightened even more, impossibly firm to the point her nails were digging into her palm even through the white material. She tried her best to give him what she hoped was the most intensely repentant look she was capable of.

"I was wrong! He was wrong too! You're not a failure in any way! You're GOOD, Sanji, you're so, so good and brave and strong and...and..."

Human. He was so starkly human. His mother's sacrifice had been a success. Like Bellemere had given her life for two girls who were worth more to her than life itself, Sora Vinsmoke had given everything she had so that her children wouldn't be remembered by the world as mistakes. He was living proof of the power of self sacrifice and the profound strength of a mother's love, just as she and her sister were.

Nami found she couldn't put all that into words that would make sense outside of her mind at the moment, she would have to tell him later when she was put back together again...when she had put him back together as well.

Her tears had only just begun, her words cut off by a blubbering wail as she leaned into him, her fists in his shirt loosening to lightly pound at his chest in frustration with herself. She buried her face in his shoulder and just cried it out while he stood stiffly with his back pressed against the counter from her weight being thrown into him so suddenly. He wasn't daring to move, she could tell, so she would have to move him....in due time. For now she just wanted to cry and inhale the smokey smell of him, getting second hand effects from his nicotine laced exhalations.

"Nami..." his voice almost startled her because it was so unexpected, and the touch of his hand in the center of her back was equally unexpected. Both were incredibly welcome, however. She gathered her courage and leaned back slightly to be able to look up at him.

"I'm so sorry. For what I said and for everything I've made you do since you got back! I can't believe how nasty I've been! I promise, I'll..."

Her words were cut short again, this time by his hand coming up to cover her mouth. He looked at her with a firm sort of expression, a quiet "shhhh" his only sound for quite a long while as he just seemed to study her closely. Boldly, she reached out her own hand to rest on his wrist and he removed the hand from her mouth, dropping it to his side as his eyes also lowered to stare at her shoulder to avoid her eyes.

"I forgive you. I'll always forgive you, no matter what, you know that." He said, and this time the tears and shaking made their presence known in his voice, making Nami's chest ache all over again.

"I know you will...you're just that way." She scoffed, but it wasn't in a bad way. Her voice was still unsteady and tight with the threat of more sobs breaking out.

"Luffy said something like that not long ago too..." Sanji seemed to be a bit dazed by his thoughts regarding her comment. "I guess you both meant it in a good way but I don't really get it."

"Good. Wouldn't want you getting too cocky about it." She teased, almost smiling for a second before she ducked her head and sighed, staring at his exposed collarbone from the stretched out neckline she'd caused. Absentmindedly, she placed a fingertip on the jut of bone and traced it gently, making the skin there twitch in response. It probably tickles, she mused silently. "Never change, okay?"

He swallowed hard, her eyes caught the movement of his Adam's apple and she knew his mind had finally been successfully distracted from his painful thoughts and had come to focus on the fact that they were so close and that she was touching him in a way she'd never done before.

"Okay." His reply was simple, and there was definitely a different sort of tightness in his voice this time. Not one of sadness being kept at bay, but something else entirely. "So....is my punishment over?"

"Consider your debt paid up." She assured him, stepping back to break whatever sort of spell was starting to fall over the both of them. He looked relieved but it took a good amount of time for his hand on her back to slide off, quickly occupied by the need to tap the ash from his long forgotten cigarette.

"Good. Because I need to sleep for a week to make up for all those night shifts and your crazy midnight cravings."

He glanced over his shoulder at the peels that were now a mess on the tray when he'd been so careful to place them so perfectly.

"Do you still want these? I'll make them for you, no problem."

"Sanji..."

"Hm?"

"Get some sleep."

Another order. His grin was back. "Of course, Nami-san."

#sanji x nami #post whole cake island #i hope I got this info right because I haven't actually gotten to the arc yet but I know a lot about it #Panja Writes #I just had this on my mind and had to get it out

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