#i have to be honest i drew this ages ago
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Hold me close - Prof!Carlisle Cullen (smut)
I know this isn't what you requested @emberfrostlovesloki – but I hope you still enjoy it! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Let's be honest, this is pure pwp, prof!Carlisle worries about the reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, prof x student, reader is legal ofc, age gap
Pairing: Prof!Carlisle x fem!student!reader (1.8k words)
The room was filled with students, a buzzing atmosphere that trapped them, forcing anticipation to flush through their systems. Every Thursday morning they found themselves in this room, eyes glued to the professor most of them fawned over, begging for a few seconds of his attention.
Professor Cullen had joined the university a few semesters ago, instantly becoming the students favourite professor. He had something to him that drew the students to him, lured closer by the man with golden eyes and frame so tall, they wondered how it must feel to have him towering over them. And trapped in the middle of it all was (y/n), one of the few students the professor called by her first name.
She couldn’t remember how it had all started, longing glances, inside jokes, cold touches. Nothing inappropriate had ever happened between them, Carlisle Cullen wasn’t one to cross lines that could end his career and ruin her future. And yet there was something between them that was anything but professional, an ongoing back and forth neither of them wanted to put an end to.
“(Y/n)?” His voice cut through the sounds the crowd of students produced as they left the class, already excited for next week. Their eyes met, drawn to one another like moths to flames, silently communicating. He watched her move closer, trembling feet struggling to support her frame, hand darting out to grasp the edge of the table he was leaning against. “Are you alright?”
Concern dripped from the professor’s voice, worried eyes wandering over her features, trying to stop his hand from reaching out to touch her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, trying to find her voice, but the room began to close in on her, unable to speak up as her vision grew blurry, head pounding.
“Come, let’s get you somewhere quieter.” This time he didn’t manage to stop himself from touching her, hand placed on the small of her back as he guided (y/n) out of the room. Neither of them spared the curious eyes of the other students any of their attention, while Carlisle found himself worrying about (y/n), her mind slowly grew clearer once again, hyperfocusing on his touch. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Just water, please.” A hum left the professor as (y/n) sank down on the comfortable couch placed in Professor Cullen’s office, the room she had been in numerous times before. He moved quickly, placing the glass of water down for her before he sat down next to (y/n), eyes not leaving her features once. “I think I simply forgot to drink enough, I’ll be fine.”
“Mhm, you need to take better care of yourself, love.” The word left his lips before his mind could pick up on the things his mouth was doing, hearing her heartbeat picking up its beat. Even though he’d never admit it out loud, Carlisle loved the way her body was reacting to the things he said, the things he did, wondering how it must feel to have her pressed against him, fully focusing on every little reaction. “I can’t have my best student passing out, can I?”
“Your best? I doubt that.” (Y/n) didn’t dare meet his eyes, breath stuck in her chest as his hand found her chin, forcing her to look at him. For a few seconds neither of them spoke, while her blood began to sing in her ears, his eyes flickered down to her lips, allowing him to focus on the thoughts he had tried to drown out ever since meeting her. She felt his thumb on her trembling lower lip, carefully stroking the soft skin as a gasp left her, unable to stop the sound from leaving her.
Before either one of them could move, the sound of his alarm going off ripped them apart. Carlisle rose to his feet with a sigh, reaching for his phone to silence it once again. “I’ll have to leave now for my shift at the hospital. Do me a favour and text me tonight, just a small update on how you are feeling.”
……
Ever since (y/n) had left Professor Cullen’s office, she had wondered if their moments together had truly played out like that or if her confused mind was playing a trick on her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but be grateful for it, clinging to the memories playing in her mind over and over again.
She wondered how long she should wait to text him, but ever since 8pm had rolled around, she had been sitting on her bed, eyes focused on her phone. Again and again she tried to type out her message to her professor, wondering what and how she should update him. Her fingers trembled at the mere thought of her professor, mind filled with sinful images she found herself longing for whenever she got time to think.
Before she could send her text the professor had taken it upon himself to reach out, a simple “How are you doing, (y/n)? Do you need something?”. Heat rose in her body at the sweet message, biting her lip to stop her smile from growing even wider. With her heart pounding in her chest she typed her reply, fuelled by her curiosity and excitement.
“I am alright, still a bit shaky, but no longer close to passing out. How was your shift?” Her phone was tossed away from her the second she had sent the text, insides churning in excitement, silently praying to whoever was listening that he’d fuel a conversation.
It didn’t take him long to get back, but not in the form of another text, forcing (y/n) to reach for her buzzing phone as he called her. A deep exhale of warm air left her before she picked up the call, murmuring a soft “Hello?”.
“I don’t like that you’re still feeling unwell, if it’s alright with you I’d like to check on you.” She was glad that the professor couldn’t see her, pupils growing wide as her lips formed another grin.
“I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do, I’m okay, promise.” (Y/n) could imagine him staring down on her, shaking his head with a displeased sigh leaving him, not trusting the young woman.
“Nonsense, text me your address, I’ll be there in a few.”
……
If somebody would have told her back then that within the next hour she’d end up in his lap, arms wrapped around his cold neck, lips locked with his, she probably would have broken out in laughter, doubting that he’d ever give into their game. And yet, here she found herself, straddling the man’s lap, fingers tangled in his golden hair.
Carlisle’s cold hands moved up and down her back, leaving sparks to shoot down her spine. She kept on trembling, though no longer because of her exhausted body, but because of the things the man made her feel. He kissed her as if he was in search of her soul, chaining her to him with a few simple touches that left her burning from inside out.
“You can always tell me to stop, love.” She couldn’t help but swoon at the care dripping from his words, holding her close with warm eyes getting lost in hers. (Y/n) cupped his cold cheek, pressing another kiss against his lips before a quiet “Don’t ever stop, please” left her.
For a few seconds he stared at her before he flipped her onto her back, pressed against her couch with her legs wrapped around his waist. Her gasps left him smirking in pride, lips kissing their way down her throat, allowing her shaking fingers to unbutton the black dress shirt he was wearing. Both were fueled by their desire, unable to ponder on the question whether what they were doing was right or wrong, needing to feel one another.
“My pretty girl, such a pretty sight. I want to take my time with you, but I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle.” The words left her moaning, eyes threatening to roll back into her head as her teeth left marks on her lower lip.
“Don’t be gentle, mark me up, please. Fuck me, professor.” (Y/n) whimpered the words, coaxing a deep grown from the man as he rose from his position. Without breaking eye contact both got rid of their clothes, bare bodies searching for one another’s closeness. Their lips met once again as he sneaked a hand between their bodies, making moans claw through (y/n). His cold fingers felt all too good against her pulsing bundle, the perfect sensation to push her closer and closer to the edge, once again begging him to fuck her.
Carlisle was rough with her, forcing his cock into her tightness without another warning, but she was aching for him, desperate for him, ready to give him whatever he wanted from her. The tall man didn’t hold back as he fucked her on her couch, forcing her further into the fabric with his eyes growing darker and darker.
“Jesus, you feel so good, fuck.” (Y/n) kept praising the man, eyes squeezed shut, desperate to focus on the feeling that felt so unfamiliar she wondered if she had ever been touched before. Carlisle chased her lips, hungrily kissing the moaning woman as he fucked her even faster, leaving marks that would turn into bruises the next few days. Marks she’d forever cherish, smiling at the memories she clung to.
Curses left the two as she clenched around him, unable to stop herself from cumming with his name leaving her, nails scratching at his skin. It took him a few more moments to let go, holding onto her with his dark eyes taking in every inch of her body. The groan leaving Carlisle as he came made (y/n) shudder, studying him with awe laced in her gaze.
“Fuck, that was-” she struggled to find any words as he gave into a laugh rumbling through him, kissing (y/n) once again before he pulled out of her.
“It was. We can’t go back now, I hope you know that.” (Y/n) pulled him down once again, mumbling a “As if I’d ever want to go back” against his lips.
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Adlers Lost and Found
Warnings: children, lost children, screaming, kinda angst, not really, very fluff. Let me know if there are more!
ADLERS x FEM!reader
MSBY ver.
Leave a comment or a reblog. They are always very appreciated 💕
Ushijima:
Ayumu: Age 6
Hiro: Age 5
Fate must hate Ushijima because though his boys were a blessing to him, they both had personalities that were polar opposite from his.
When he was little, he often drew in his little coloring book and maybe played outside with his dad.
But his sons seem to have more fun throwing the crayons at each other or using them to draw on each other or the wall.
It was the coach's 90th birthday, and he and his wife had invited over some of the old Shiratorizawa players to celebrate
Ushijima had just returned from Poland, and this would have been a great opportunity to see everyone again.
Ayumu and Hiro were so excited to go. They were city boys. They lived their whole lives in Tokyo, aside from the winter trips to Miyagi and the summer trip to California; they never really got out of the confines of their high-rise penthouse much.
This was going to be an adventure for them. When the boys visit their grandmother, they usually have to stay in the house or play in the courtyard because it's so cold, but they still love visiting.
And their grandpa lives in the city, so while it's also really fun, it feels like Tokyo.
You guys had arrived at the coach's house, and for the most part, things were going very well. The boys were calm, and Ushijima was having a great time with his old teammates.
Near dinner time, you decided to go in and help Tendou with dinner in the kitchen. Ushi only got distracted for a bit, but that was long enough because when Ushi turned his attention back to check on the boys playing. They were gone.
To be completely honest, Ushijima was not freaking out because, like a rational human, he knew they could have gone far, and if he just went into the woods a little bit, he would probably find them.
It didn't cross his mind that he should tell you the boys were gone, so he went in to find them without telling anyone.
The sun was lowering in the sky, but he finally stumbled onto them a few meters into the wood. They were covered in mud, and Ayumu was pushing his brother into the pond, yelling, "Walk the plank!!"
Ushi stood there and watched them playing pretend because, honestly, sometimes, their chaos was cute.
But then, just as Hiro was about to jump into the water, he remembered that Hiro can't swim.
Without much thought, he dove into the pond to save his little boy.
They trudged back to the house, muddy and soaking wet. Ayumu was on his back while Hiro was in his arms.
By the time they returned, everyone was standing outside worrying because the sun had set at least an hour ago, and they hadn't come in for dinner.
You wanted to be mad when you heard what happened, but they looked so funny you forgot your anger.
Kageyama:
Ren: Age 3
Ren was so much like his father. It was scary. Little Ren was not only a carbon copy of his father with the same raven hair and blueberry eyes, but he had his personality to boot.
It pissed you off a little. I mean, you held that little boy inside of you for nine months. Would it have killed him to be a little like you?
He could go an entire day just playing in his playpen, only going to find you or his dad when he was sleepy or hungry.
That day was the first day Kageyama would take care of Ren alone since returning from Italy.
It was a blessing to Kageyama that Ren was such a low-maintenance kid because all he had to do was feed him, keep him clean, and keep him alive.
It was just past two, and the boys had just finished lunch—a bowl of Udon for Kageyama and some pieces of Tonkatsu Ren. And with their stomachs full, sleep started to set in.
The boys curled up on the sofa. Ren rested his head on his dad's chest and snuggled into it, ready to nap.
Kageyama pulled a blanket on them and gave in to sleep himself.
He had only planned on sleeping for 30 minutes tops. But by the time he woke, the sunlight that filtered into the room was replaced with moonlight.
The clock above the TV read 7:00 pm. It was dinner time now, and Ren was gone.
Wait...Ren was...GONE.
This man shot up from the couch so fast. He actually tripped over the blanket, but he couldn't care less. He was frantically running through the house, calling Ren's name.
Nothing in the house looked out of place, so his mind went to the worst possible scenario: he either ran away or was kidnapped.
Was there a reason a three-year-old would run away from the father he cried for an entire year to see? No. Was there a way that anyone could get past the top-tier security system in the house to take his son without triggering the loud ass alarm and alerting every police officer in Tokyo? No. But was Kageyama thinking rationally? Also no.
Unlike the others, Kageyama just straight-up called you in his panic and told you what happened.
So you calmed him down, assuring him that Ren was still in the house, and told him to check the playpen. Ren had a favorite nap spot in the corner of the pen where it stashed a bunch of pillows and blankets and his volleyball plushy.
Thank god because when Kageyama finally saw his little boy cuddle up in those blankets in the corner, he felt his heart relax.
Hoshiumi:
Misa: Age 9
If I'm honest, he is the one that got lost, but he will never admit that.
And even before this, Hoshiumi had lost Misa plenty of times, but he would never admit that either.
Misa already knew the drill: if she "got lost." Just wait until your father realizes you're gone and for him to return and "find" you.
Misa was definitely less impulsive than her father, but nonetheless, she was an absolute daddy girl. Whenever Hoshiumi had time off, she was stuck to him like glue.
This led to him planning many father-daughter days while you were off at work.
That day, he decided they would go to the arcade; it had been years since he went, and Misa was finally old enough to enjoy it.
At first, they started on the kitty games like wack a mole, fishing, etc. Those were good warm-ups, but just like her father, Misa was ambitious and wouldn't let her age get in the way of having fun on the more challenging games.
But before that, they had to eat lunch. After all, you can't dominate the virtual world on an empty stomach.
The first game those two set their eyes on afterward was a shooting game called "Last Man Standing."
It was basically laser tag, and the winner would get their choice of anything in the prize booth and 50% off all purchasable items.
The game started with them playing together and having fun, but as Hoshi got into the game, he began leaving Misa behind to reach the target.
He did end up winning, but he completely lost sight of where his daughter was in the process.
He basically begged the arcade workers to shut down the place to find his little girl.
It didn't take long because as soon as they shut down the game and turned the lights on in the room. Misa was sitting in the corner, playing with her fingers.
He bought her anything and everything she wanted from the prize booth to compensate for what happened.
He usually did this every time she "got lost." Like when he lost her in the supermarket, they came home with 12 chocolate bars and a bunch of sugary cereal but none of the vegetables you had sent them out for.
When you got home, Misa was curled up in her bed surrounded by stuffed animals and unopened chocolate.
"You lost her again, didn't you?"
"No.........."
"Uh-hmm"
"It's true!"
#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyu oc#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu kids#haikyū!!#haikyu fanart#haikyuu angst#haukyuu fluff#haikyuu kageyama#haikyuu hoshiumi#haikyuu ushijima#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x reader#ushijima headcanons#ushijima fluff#kageyama tobio#kageyama x reader#kageyama headcanons#kageyama drabbles#kageyama fluff#hoshiumi x reader
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So a couple of days ago, I decided “you know what? I might as well try my hand at human designs for the Cookies”. Granted I only did the bust because I’m lazy. But yeah that’s what this is
And in addition to that because I thought it’d be fun, I gave myself a rule that the characters can only have natural skin, hair and eye colors, unless their character would make relative sense to have dyed hair or colored contacts, as you can see with Princess and Wildberry
I drew Dark Choco and Dark Cacao first since they’re my hyperfixations, they should be the first ones I draw. And then I drew the Hollyberry family because with their pink and blue hair, I thought it’d be fun to try and change them. But after I finished them, I didn’t know who else to put nor did I have a lot of room, so I just left it at them
I’m just gonna list random things about the designs now
I’m not entirely sure where Dark Choco and Cacao’s streaks come from, but I couldn’t just get rid of them. For Dark Choco, I’d say either dye or stress, and for Dark Cacao, either stress or age (though given he’s had them streaks since a young age, stress is probably the more likely option)
I gave Dark Cacao grey eyes, but maybe I should have gone with black instead. Probably more realistic. And for that matter dark eyes probably would have been the better option for Wildberry too. Hm
I admit, I probably should have gone with a lighter red for Hollyberry, Royal Berry and Princess’s hair, but I gave them that shade since I thought Hollyberry would look good with dark red hair
I really didn’t want to draw Hollyberry’s hair, it was a pain. I’d much rather draw it down, but the updo is more accurate to her, so eh
Royal Berry looks like a barber to me
I made Jungleberry and Tiger Lily’s hair black because I feel like it’s a thing for blue to be a substitute for black, like in older movies and such, so I did it the other way around, and also it wouldn’t make sense for either of them to have dyed hair
This was my first time drawing Jungleberry and I quite liked drawing her
Drawing Princess here was what finally got me to understand just what her hairstyle is supposed to be. I know I’ve seen it before, I think in Berserk, but I don’t remember who had it so I can’t show you a picture of what I mean. But I get how her hair works now
Speaking of her hair, I admit, I took liberties with making her hair curly, especially since no one else in her family has visibly curly hair, but to be honest I think I did that because I have dark red coily hair that’s also curly. So I was probably just taking reference from myself. I also share dark brown eyes, but I have no trace of her melanin, I am very pale
I made the red/pink eyes brown since I figured those were the closest colors and a good translation, but I ran into a problem when I realized Jungleberry already has brown eyes. So just shh there, ignore it
I don’t know how dreads work I apologize
In my head Wildberry dyes his hair red because that’s Hollyberry’s hair color, hence why it’s red and not pink
And I think that’s about it. I’ll probably do more of these since this was fun, but I don’t know when or who I’ll do next
#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#dark choco cookie#dark cacao cookie#hollyberry cookie#royal berry cookie#jungleberry cookie#princess cookie#tiger lily cookie#wildberry cookie#my art#human cookies
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Cunning Linguist
pietro maximoff x reader smut
warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence
word count: 3,990
a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol
he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!
Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.
Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam.
Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?
He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.
Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.
More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.
No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.
Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?
Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.
Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.
Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time. If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.
He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?
The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?
The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it.
But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?
Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.
Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well.
Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.
Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.
Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.
Anyway, about you…
Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.
For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.
Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.
Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something.
Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?
Pietro Speed Maximoff.
Eh, maybe not.
In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.
Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.
You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.
Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.
Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.
The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips.
His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.
A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?
Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.
Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue.
But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.
Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.
You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.
“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.
Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.
No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.
A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”
You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below.
Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.
Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.
Or…Agnes’s place.
Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.
You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want.
Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.
And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.
Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.
Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.
But first…he really should satiate your hunger.
One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red.
Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness.
The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.
Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.
Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.
Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.
You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.
Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.
Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.
Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization.
Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.
Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.
He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.
A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.
The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.
Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.
He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.
Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.
After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.
You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.
With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.
Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.
Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”
Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.
“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”
#peter maximoff x y/n#peter maximoff x you#peter maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x you#peter maximoff#pietro maximoff#wandavision#txt#sorry for dropping this in the main tags !!
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Is it in your DNA? (Phillip Graves x ofc)
Summary: Graves wants to find out who is his bio-dad. But when he finds out, the man isn’t exactly welcoming.
Note: Based on this post by @gravesrafe. You’re a genius, I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this. / The OFC is called April. / Maybe this is a part one. Idk. / The mistakes you might find in this are completely unintentional, I swear.
Until now, Phillip had been staying in his house, always keeping an eye on what was happening in the outside world and at Shadow Company, and getting ready for the perfect moment to return. His girlfriend kept him entertained most of the time, but when she left for a few days to visit her father who had just broken a leg, he realized that his thoughts could get quite wild when he was on his own.
She was really close to her dad, he had seen this several times with his own eyes, and this made him think. He never knew his father. His mother never talked about him, always avoided the topic when he asked, so around the age of twelve he gave up trying.
But now as an adult maybe it was time to find out. Maybe he could use his wealth and connections to hire the best private investigator available to find his father. So once he made up his mind, he made a few calls and soon found who he was looking for thanks to a friend.
“Thank you for coming here on such short notice,” said Phillip as they sat down in the living room.
The man flashed a polite smile at him as he leaned forwards on the sofa. “It's only natural, Mr. Graves, I know how busy you are, and it must be important.”
Clearing his throat, Phillip leaned back in the armchair and stretched his fingers on the armrest. “Well, it's a personal issue.”
“Your girlfriend?”
He couldn't help but laugh. He trusted her more than anyone, he didn't have a reason to start an investigation about her. “It's my father. I never knew him, but I think it's time to find him with your help,” he said after a short break.
The man thought for a second. “Is your mother still alive?” he asked.
“If you want to know if I’ve ever tried to ask her, then the answer is yes, I have. Several times. But she’s stubborn and doesn’t want me to know for some reason.”
“I see.”
That was all he said. Phillip thought he would refuse to work for him, saying it either wasn't worth his time or energy, or was a case that wasn't the kind he would normally pick to work on. But the silence stretched even longer, causing him to shift in his seat from the anxiety that was beginning to take over his mind.
And he wasn't the type to be anxious. The last time he felt that way had been a bit over a year ago, when his girlfriend got into a car accident. It was pure luck that he wasn't away on a mission at the time, so the moment he got the call from the hospital, he told everyone to man up and handle things without him for a week or two.
He wished April was there with him now. Just taking her hand, feeling the soft skin and warmth would have made him feel a lot better. But she wasn't here now, and he had to handle this on his own. After what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat to prepare for the question that had been on his mind for a while.
“Have you even tried to find him on your own?” the man suddenly asked, surprising Phillip. “I know about your company, I'm sure you have the resources and connections to manage on your own.”
“I'd rather have someone else do it,” came the honest response.
The private investigator suddenly stood up and dusted off his dress shirt before straightening his tie. “All right. I'll get to work tomorrow and get back to you once I know something about him.”
“Thank you,” was all Phillip said as he shook his hand.
Two days after this conversation his girlfriend finally returned, and she was extremely interested in his sudden urge to find this father he had never known. As they were lying in bed with her head resting on his chest, she drew circles into his skin as she kept asking him questions about the man he hired.
“Do you think he will find your father?” she asked quietly.
Phillip gulped at the thought. It's not like he hadn't thought of the possibility of the private investigator failing to do this simple task. Because how hard could finding one man be? “I'm sure he will,” he replied eventually.
She rested her chin on his shoulder as she looked up at him. “You don't sound too sure,” she pointed out, to which he only responded with a groan. “Okay, okay, I'll let you off the hook.”
“Have you talked to your dad since you got home? Is he okay alone?” he asked before gently kissing the crown of her head.
A sigh left her lips, then she simply turned on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “You know how stubborn he can be. His neighbor offered to help, I offered to hire someone to help, but he keeps saying he can manage on his own,” April replied, her tone giving away that she was tired of her father’s nonsense.
He couldn’t blame her for feeling like this, after all he had gone through the same thing with his mother after she had a surgery. Sometimes he joked that they should be together, maybe this would benefit them, but he knew neither of them would be happy.
Days passed painfully slowly, each feeling longer than the last, making him believe the private investigator got to a dead end. But then his phone rang, and he saw his name on the screen. “I was beginning to think you found nothing,” he admitted after the suggestion to meet for dinner later that night.
Phillip didn’t want company, so he reserved a private room in a fancy restaurant he often took his girlfriend to. The man arrived on time, as if he had waited outside until the very last minute. “As I said on the phone, I have good news, Mr. Graves,” he began as they settled down. He took out a thin file that he set down between them. “I found your father, although I must warn you; he’s a very private man.”
“But you still found some things, right?”
“Yes. His name is Russell Adler,” he began as he opened the file and handed his client a photo from the top. “He works for the CIA. I had to pull a few strings to get this information, but I’m positive that this is the case.”
As he picked up the picture, Phillip took a good look at the man. He looked similar to him, even had a nasty scar on his face like he did. Well, his scar apparently wasn’t nasty, at least his girlfriend always said she loved it about his face. A smile crept on his face at the thought of her, but he quickly regained his composure and looked up at the other man.
“How in the hell did my mother meet someone like him?” he asked, already afraid that the answer would be a drunken night out.
“Your mother lived in the same building for a short time. I don’t exactly know the full story, but they had a fleeting relationship,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, your mother never told him she was pregnant. He went on a mission, disappeared for months, then by the time he returned, your mother was already gone from that apartment building.”
The Shadow put down the photo and reached for the whole file instead. “So my mom didn’t want him to know, huh? I wonder why that is.”
“He’s… difficult. I talked to a few people he used to know, and they all said the same thing. He lived for his job. He’s known for being a true patriot, always putting the best interest of this country before his own.”
“Sounds just like you,” his girlfriend noted when he told her everything later that night. They were sitting on the couch with her head on his thighs, his hands buried into her hair as they talked. “Do you want to meet him?”
“I don’t know,” Phillip admitted. “He has no idea I exist. And if he was already working for the CIA when Mom got pregnant, then he could have easily found her after he returned from that mission. But he didn’t care enough to look for her.”
April reached for his hand that was resting on his stomach and raised it to her lips. “But what if he would be glad to find out he has a son? You’re successful, intelligent, and so stupidly handsome.” He couldn’t help but laugh at this. “You should give it a try.”
The smile that stayed on his lips grew wider when she sat up and turned around to kiss him. If his men knew how smitten he was with her at home, they would probably make jokes about him behind his back. But he didn’t care, not as long as they were together. She made him a better person, made him see things in a different light most of the time.
Even now she managed to convince him to meet that man. “But you’re coming with me,” he told her before kissing the tip of her nose.
And so a few days later they were sitting in a rental car outside the man’s house. Phillip was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, but he loosened up a little when she put a hand on his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.
“Listen, I know I said you should do this, but if you changed your mind–”
He shook his head immediately. “No, no, it’s okay, I’m ready.”
She didn’t find him convincing enough, but she nodded nonetheless. They got out of the car and walked up to the front door, which to their surprise opened before they could even knock. There was the man from the photos right in front of them, eyeing the pair with a suspicious look on his face.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Adler,” Phillip said with a nod.
“Do we know each other?”
He took a deep breath before pulling out an old photo of his mother from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Do you know her? Her name is Mary Graves,” he said, carefully examining the man’s facial expressions. There was a glint in his eyes, something that told him he recognized her. “So?”
Adler let out a sigh, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t be mistaken, I know who you are, Mr. Graves. The Shadow himself,” he began. “I assume that woman is your mother.”
“You never answered my question.”
“I used to know her, yes,” the older man said as he folded his arms over his chest. “Based on your possible age and the time I knew her, my best guess is that you believe I’m your father.”
“I hired someone to look into this issue, he was the one who found you. Look, I know it was my mother who left, and she never said anything bad about my father. She just… avoided the topic, especially after moving in with my stepfather,” Phillip explained as he put away the photo that was given back to him. “All I want is to get to know my bio-dad.”
As Adler took a better look at the man who claimed to be his son, Phillip absentmindedly reached out to take his girlfriend’s hand, fingers tightly laced with hers while they waited. “You’ll need a DNA test to prove this,” he finally spoke up.
Phillip couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “Of course. I was expecting this answer,” he said eventually. “I’ll arrange everything, you just have to be at home when they come for the sample if you agree.”
After a nod, the man turned to look at the woman on his alleged son’s side. “And who is she?” he asked.
“My girlfriend. She was the one who convinced me to come and talk to you.”
“I’m April,” she said with her usual kind smile as she extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
For the first time since they arrived, Adler’s lips curled into a smile. “Likewise. But as pleasant as this conversation is, I’d rather not invite you in yet. Let’s wait for the result of that test,” he said, his expression gradually turning into a condescending one as he turned to the other man again.
Phillip nodded. “That’s understandable. They will give you a call to arrange an appointment. See you later if the test proves it’s true. If not, then this is the last time you see me.”
“Have a nice trip back home,” was all he said before closing the door.
The two of them got back in the car, and Phillip began to drive towards the airport without saying a word. His girlfriend tried to talk, first about neutral things, like what they should eat for dinner or how they could go and spend the following weekend in his lake house. But he didn’t seem interested in any of these topics so she gave up and stepped back to give him some time to figure out how to say what was on his mind.
And sure enough, about half an hour later he licked his lips and said, “I can’t believe that guy. He didn’t even want to get to know me. He didn’t even consider being my real father, he denied everything.”
“He didn’t deny anything, honey,” April began as she reached out to take his hand. “You wouldn’t invite some stranger into your home only because they claim to be your son. He just wants to see the result of the test first. Once you’re proven right, he’ll be more cooperative.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I’m right,” she said with a laugh, earning a warm look and a kiss on the back of her hand in return. “He’ll come around. Don’t worry.”
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Why I'm Okay with Nancy/Tristan Having a "Soulmate" Connection and What That Means for Nace
Okay, this is going to be less of a theory explanation than a deep dive into the most prevalent (?) theory I've read/the theory I subscribe to, and why I think it's going to play out in an amazing and satisfying way for our beloved star-crossed lovers.
First, the theory: Tristan is the Sin Eater, destined to reincarnate throughout time and consume the sins of Horseshoe Bay. After what we've seen in 4x10 (the *spark*, "We've walked this path many times before.", "It was like he knew you."), it seems Nancy is some kind of light-energy-Sin Eater-counterpart. An Angel of Truth, perhaps? It seems she is also destined to reincarnate throughout eternity in order to reveal the truths of Horseshoe Bay.
Why I love this theory: Nancy is passionate about finding out the truth and has a dedication to honesty. It's ingrained in her from a young age, and plays a huge role in why she solves mysteries and how she navigates her relationships. She solved the biggest mystery of all (her own heritage) by "always seeking out the truth, even when it hurts.” Just like Kate taught her. And every single one of her relationships is colored by it—Nick pulling away because she wouldn’t be honest with him. Uncovering that Ace was lying and working for McGinnis. Pushing Bess to reveal her real identity. The list goes on.
We’ve also known Nancy to lie when it’s incredibly important for her—Recanting her testimony and destroying her credibility to save Ace’s life, lying by omission to Ace about the curse to keep him safe.
(also Carson calls Nancy their “better angel” and wow do I love a show that makes things work from 2 seasons ago).
How I think it will play out for Nace: Right now, Nancy seems pretty heavily into this so-called “romantic” connection with Tristan, and Ace seems rather forgotten doesn’t he? She talks about him as an “ex” and that Tristan is an “open and honest” communicator, and a “mature” relationship, implying that those things aren’t/weren’t true about Ace, which we all know is obviously not true.
But we learned that Nancy was the last sinner. Personally, I think (and hope) that Nancy’s confessed sin was about (momentarily) giving up HB in order to have a future with Ace. However, regardless of what the sin is, it’s HIGHLY likely that it is Ace and curse related, and if it’s Ace and curse related that means Nancy’s, and Ace’s (...and the crew’s, and the dads’, and…everyone’s) memories are altered. And you know what? If your memories are altered in some way that makes you forget you are cursed or forget that you love someone, this mystical Sin Eater/Angel of Truth soul spark connection thing is gonna feel pretty darn romantic to you.
So what happens when the truth is revealed? We have two truths to uncover here: Nancy’s sin, and the truth about what she is/her past lives.
Number 1: Revealing Nancy’s sin will help her see her relationships more clearly and remember her relationship with Ace. Remember, “our memories make us who we are and that is worth fighting for.”, and we have seen Nancy fight tooth and nail for Ace this season, every fight/break-up they had about their relationship and the curse being colored by their desperation to be together. When that comes rushing back, it’s going to be a big shift. Nancy tells Ace “That's all you're really left with... just messy, stupid memories that stick around, and... good or bad, you get to make more of them.” Nancy has memories with Ace and she’s going to fight for them. She’s going to fight to make more memories with him.
Number 2: We already see Nancy feel pretty strongly about freeing Tristan from his fate as the Sin Eater, and wanting to stop him from having to be reincarnated forever. When she finds out she’s the same, she’s going to fight to end it for herself too. So much of Nancy’s life has been fated/determined—being a Hudson, learning her life was a lie, being taken in by the Drews (Yes, they choose to raise her but did they really have the option to say no? Come on, it’s Carson and Kate), and now this? And so much of Nancy’s life has been about clinging to normalcy. She just wanted to go to Columbia to get away, to be normal. To have a regular family and regular friends. She didn’t ask to be pulled into a murder case and to hunt down supernatural killers. She didn’t ask to be haunted by Lucy Sable. She didn’t ask to be some supernatural reincarnated truth entity.
Nace is endgame. We know this. And right now the ‘star-crossed lovers’ of it all has taken on a new twist. Once cursed to not be together, we now learn that one of them is reincarnated and the other is not. Unable to even spend eternity together.
(Yes, I have Thoughts and Theories on how Nancy putting Ace’s name in the jar at the Lover’s Vigil may have created some connection here, perhaps forging an eternal/after death bond that wasn’t there before. And I also have Thoughts and Theories about that ‘mystical wedding vibe’ of the curse break attempt in 4x03 and how in a wedding ‘two shall become one’ and maybe now their souls are bonded which could influence everything, but that’s A Whole ‘Nother Post.)
So Nancy is going to choose Ace. Break out of whatever Truth/Sin eternal connection this is and choose Ace. Remember that Carson said “maybe we get more than one [soulmate]”, and he also told Nancy “You control your fate. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Maybe Tristan is Nancy’s supernatural soulmate, but Ace is Nancy’s person and she’s going to choose him.
The Naceplications:
Here’s why that’s an incredible thing for Nace, and is going to be an important thing for their character arcs, both individually, and as a couple.
Ace needs to be chosen. Ace struggles with insecurities of feeling lost, without purpose, and being unworthy. So much of Ace's life has been about proving himself—proving to his father he’s not a child and can make adult decisions, proving to McGinnis he’s not a screw up after he got caught hacking that database, proving his worth to Grant even as a brother by helping him, proving to Nancy he’s worth her time and attention by trying to always help her (and only in 4x06 does he realize maybe that’s flawed).
But what he doesn’t realize is he’s always been enough just how he is. Nancy loves him just how he is. She opens up to him about tanking her grades, tells him he’s brilliant when he starts making connections with Charity (actually Hannah) in 3x09, tells him “You never were [lacking].”, or even when she tells him in 4x08 “You really showed up for me, I noticed.” by knowing Kate’s anniversary, giving Nancy the necklace while in his body, supporting her breaking and entering. Those weren’t about doing stuff for her but just being there for her. Him. His presence.
So for Ace to learn she’s some immortal-truth-light-being-thing that’s been reincarnated and has this counterpart connection to the Sin Eater, he's going to think he has no chance against that, right? Of course she’ll choose Tristan. Except Nancy can’t lose him. Nancy is willing to and has risked it all to save him, to be with him, multiple times. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, and yet she chooses him.
Nancy needs to be chosen, too. She feels abandoned by everyone in her life (losing her mom, losing her perceptions of her family/her parents, even losing Lucy to an extent), and she feels that so much is out of her control. Nancy worries that she’s only the worst parts of everyone who came before her, and in light of everything—being a source of light and good, reincarnated throughout time—how much of her life was her choice? Does she solve supernatural mysteries because it’s a connection deep in her bones? In her soul?
She’s prickly and complicated and messy and has walls ten miles high, and she needs someone who will choose her through it all. Ace is that person.
There’s a recurring theme of choice for the two of them across the show. Think about Ace knowing there is a choice beyond something that’s bonded to your soul after his connection with Charity. Think about Ace remaining in Horseshoe Bay and telling Laura “I believe I have a purpose here.” Think about Nancy making the unthinkable choice, but saying “Blind spots, Temperance. I choose this.” Think about Nancy and Ace reading emails that say “I want to be with you. I don’t care what anyone else says.”
Think about Nancy, an Angel of Truth, tied eternally to a Sin Eater, choosing a mortal life. Choosing to be with the man she loves.
Think about her turning away from eternal reincarnation and saying “I face the mystery of this journey with courage because it is with you.” “In this world that tries to silence me the most dangerous words I can speak are that I love you.”
Think about how “it’s always been about love” and Nancy is choosing who she loves, not who she’s connected to through fate.
Love is an action, and love is a choice. Love is putting someone else’s needs first and choosing that person over and over. And really, someone that chooses you is far more romantic than a predestined soulmate anyway.
#nace#nancy drew cw#nancy drew spoilers#cw nancy drew#nancy and ace#nancy drew meta#i need a meta tag#my meta#scarletslippers posts#it’s about CHOICE. it’s about FREE WILL. it’s about CHOOSING WHO YOU LOVE
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A chance meeting.
(Aka I'm bored and messing about with ideas.)
The ninth Doctor.
Weeping Angels:
The bookshop is quiet this late in the day. Just shy of an hour before closing. Some patrons are muttering amongst themselves. Sometime to you to make their final purchases. Others begin to wrap up whatever they were doing on computers and laptops.
You hum to yourself as you check in books. Stacking them in the rolling cart to later be shelved. The dimly lit room is bathed in the red light of the setting sun. There is a comfortable warmth in the air. The last remainder of a warm summer day.
After a while you stand. Popping your back after having sat down in one spot for so long. You began directing the customers out. Wishing the regulars a good evening as they leave.
When the door bell chimes one last time you sigh. Flipping the open sign to close as you locked the door.
Silence. Save for the distant rumbling of cars and the howling dog.
You still had to clean up. Gathering bits of trash from people who couldn't see the clearly labeled trash can. You stacked coffee filters back up. Open a new container of tea. Made a note to buy more syrups and more creamer.
You began to hum to yourself again. Half mumbling the words to the Beatles Blackbirds as you swept.
"Take these broken wings and-" Youpaused. Your broom had hit something solid behind the curtain. The yellow straw curled around stone grey feet. You laid the broom against the wall.
Your fingers met the sun bleached blue curtains you hadn't remembered closing. Having opened up all the curtains and windows to let in a breeze. The bookshops ac had broken a week ago and David still hadn't found someone to fix it.
"What are you?" The words left you in a mumble. The curtain rings scrapped against the metal curtain rod when you drew the fabric back. What sat before you was an angel esque statue. It's hands were over its eyes.
Something about it felt off. An age old instinct inside you yelled. Raged against your new age brain. You reached your hand out despite this. Grazing your fingers against the back of the hand of the eerily warm statue. You shivered. Swallowed thickly.
With your hands now on your hips you huffed. Tutting your tongue as your grumbled. "David and his weird decor choices." No doubt he had hid the damn thing behind the curtain to spook you. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
You reached for the broom. Shivering as a soft breeze blew through the open window behind the statue.
It would just be your luck that you had to sneeze in that moment. Having forgotten to take you allergy pills that morning.
As you were wiping your nose with your handkerchief you just happened to glance up. Only to let out a curse and stumble back into an old bean bag. The statue had moved. Honest to god moved.
You shot to your feet. Eyes not moving from the statue as you walked backwards.
"Acho!" You and your luck. Maybe that's why you never won the lottery. The statue had moved again. A table sat between the two of you. The statue was grinning. Arm outstretched. Reaching towards you. You were close to panic. Hands shaking and palms sweating. You were cold despite the summer warmth.
You curse again when the lights began to flicker. A few bulbs in the children's section actually busting. Loud pops of glass had you flinching.
"I don't know what you are." You spoke. Reaching for a book left on the table. "But i'm not going to be that person who gets got in the first few minutes of a supernatural episode."
The book arced in the air. Smacking against the against the angel uselessly. The pages fluttered. Flew like confetti as the book exploded. More lights pooped. Slowly making its way towards the two of you.
You got the feeling that this thing liked your fear.
You began backing up again. Hands flailing behind you to guide your way. More lights burst. You hand meets the cold brass doorknob. You pushed the button to unlock it.
Nothing.
You tried again.
Nothing.
You jumped when you heard the whirring on the other side. Then the muttering of a man. Stupidly you looked away. Only to scream when the angel was right in front of you.
The door opened with a too cheerful "Ding!" And you fell into the arms of a man. The smell of leather heavy in your lungs.
"Hello!" The man spoke. His voice was accented.
"Hi." You spoke out quickly. Voice high with panic. Eyes still on the angel inside the book shop even as the man helped you to your feet. "You uh. You wouldn't happen to know what that thing is would you?" The man slammed the door closed and you got a proper look at him.
Leather jacket. Red shirt. Dark jeans. And a weird glowing pen in his hands. The sound of the whirring earlier obviously as he waved it around the door.
"That was a weeping angel. Quit lucky you." He pointed his pen at you before pocketing it. "I'm the Doctor by the way." He grinned.
"Y/n." You drew your name out as you spoke. A little more than confused. Both of you jumped when the door began to rattle.
"This is the part where we run. Come on!" The man, The Doctor. You'd ask Doctor who later. As it was it grabbed you hand and pulled. Leading you down the street as the world began to plunge into the night.
The Tenth Doctor:
Alien Invasion :
You had been painting when it happened. Sat out in an open meadow. Canvas only half filled. You wondered sometimes if it was still there. A burst of color in your otherwise greyed world.
The aliens had come without warning. Nothing save for the breaking of the atmosphere as their ships descended down to Earth.
You hadn't bothered to gather your things. Only turning and running before the behemoth of a creature could spot you.
Your truck had died over halfway through on the drive back. You later learned it was caused by an emp blast from the aliens. And so you ran.
It was late by the time you had gotten home. Both in the day and...
Still you could not think of it. Lest you make it more real. More tangible.
You chose to believe that they were ok despite the rumours surrounding the labour camps. You had been one of the few. The only who were outside those camps. The alien cities. Everyday was a fight for survival. Both against them and your fellow human.
As of right now though the squabbles have settled. At least amongst each other. Instead all of that fight was focused on one man who stood in the center of the room. Dimly illuminated by old oil lamps.
He called himself the Doctor and asked how he could get into the heart of The Capitol. The Aliens main base. A place that promised nothing but death.
"I have a friend there. Donna Noble. I need to get her out." There was a series of scoffs. Laughter. And uproar.
"Ya. You and everyone else here mate." A dark haired man spoke. You never bothered to learn his name. Or any others. To many people to lose to get attached. You had lost enough already.
You watched from your little corner in the room. Eyes fixated on the man as he tried to reason with someone. Any one in the room. There was something about him. They way he carried himself. When he circled his trenchcoat curled around his long legs. Brown eyes were darkened in the dim lighting. His lips were bit raw with worry. His shoulders tense.
"Please. Your the last group of people." Someone cut him off. The Doctor blew air out from his cheeks. Brows furrowed. He scowled. A type of anger you had never seen before flashed across his face. His mouth opened. Lips curled around teeth.
Until you stepped forward.
"I'll help." You told him. It wasn't some loud affair when you spoke. Quite the opposite. Your voice was quiet. Hoarse from lack of use. And when you moved closer to him Dian pulled at your sleeve. You shook her off. "I'll help." You spoke again. Wanting to clear away that look of disbelief from his face.
If it had been your family there. You would want help to.
.............
You were glad that you had helped him. Watching him interact with his friend. Donna had thanked you as well when it all settled down. At least now humankind will be able to re-build. Because of the Doctors efforts the Aliens had been driven away. Catapulted back into the skies where they had come from.
You had never met a man before that could instill so much fear with his name alone.
That left you here. Sitting well away from everyone as you sketched for the first time in a long time. Some skill had been left behind but the rest was still there.
You drew them. Happy. Smiling.
It hurt your very soul. Broke your heart. Even after all of this you still couldn't find them. And you had no one else to lean upon.
The pages darkened and his voice sounded in your ears. As did the sweet perfume you had first smelled as Donna sat beside you.
"What about you y/n? What are you going to do know that the earth is saved." You said nothing at the Doctors words. Merely shrugging your shoulders and closing the sketchbook before they could see what. Who you drew.
"Same thing I have been." You spoke quietly. Not looking at either of them as you looked over what had once been the Aliens Capitol. "Traveling. Moving." Alone.
You could see Donna look up at the Doctor from the corner of your eye. Such a kind and worried look on her face.
Then the Doctors hand on your shoulder. You look to see his face near yours as he bent down.
"Then how about traveling the universe? The stars? Lots more to draw than what's out here."
The Eleventh Doctor:
Crash Landing:
You are walking along the old graveled road to your home. Rocks crumbling underfoot as you go up the familiar trail. It's one you've taken for years now.
The air was cool and crisp. Sweet in your lungs as you breathed it in. In the distance you could hear the croaking of frogs. The chirping crickets. Here and there there was an owl. The sounds were comforting. Familiar.
Something was different about this walk though. Just. Have you ever walked into a room and it just felt different? Only to later learn that your friends or siblings had moved all the furniture a few inches to the left? That's what it felt like right now. That everything that you have seen for the last 15 years was moved a little to the left.
You took a step. Then paused. Ears straining to hear what you are no longer hearing.
The woods around you have fallen silent. No frogs, crickets. Nothing but the wind winding through the trees and the soft lapping of water on the shore from a nearby lake.
You turned on foot. Hand held light briefly lighting up the road, then the trees as you moved. You glanced up and into the sky. The moon was full and round. Almost bright enough that you didn't need the flashlight.
The air blew softly. Picking up with it the scent of wild flowers. It curled around you. Blowing around strands of hair and fluttering your open jacket.
You swallow thickly. Nervous. That was a new feeling on this road. This walk. Nervous. As if something was about to happen.
You stood on the spot for a few minutes. Eyes glancing about as you tried to find something tangible for this feeling. You drew in a breath. Held it. Then let it out.
!VAWHOMP!
You screamed when it came crashing through. It flung up wet earth and rock. Broke trees and it screamed. Yelled. A large blue box crashing and spinning into the Earth.
It landed some feet away and all you could do was close to hyperventilate. You body shook and your heart threatened to break your ribs with its rapid pounding.
The air was thick with the smell of freshly turned earth and wood. Normally it was comforting but.
The box made a noise.
"I... What?" You bag fell to the ground as you began to move. You almost fell into the trench it had made twice before you reached it.
The box made a wheeze.
You hand was on its side before you could think. Fingers running along the rough wood.
Curiosity got the better of you.
With some difficulty you clambered up on it. Skinning your knee in the process. After about a minute and some cursing and grumbling your were on it.
Police Call Box.
What was that?
Was that a door handle? It felt warm when you wrapped your hand around it. Pushing in did nothing. Pulling up on the other hand.
Smoke bellowed out when you opened it. It was thick and reeked of burnt motor oil. The door squealed on its hinges as it flopped to the other side. A bright light filtered through that smoke and for a moment you hoped that whatever you just breathed in wasn't toxic or radioactive.
Instead your lungs burned and you coughed. Hacking like that one time you had stupidly tried a cigarette when you were young. You waved a hand in front of your face trying to clear away some of the smoke. When it finally stopped bellowing out in thick clouds you stuck your head over the opening.
"How on gods green earth." You mumbled and leaned forward some more. Up an on your knees with your hands on the other side of the door way to brace you.
At a sideways view was the stranges thing you had ever seen. Some type of console you assumed a was in the center. Leading up to it was a walkway. At the end of the walkway was a man in a white shirt and suspenders. His face must have matched your own.
"How do you fit all of that in here?" The man shook his head. He was leaning on the consol thing. Rope in hand. He was coughing heavily every so often.
"How did you get up there?" He questioned back. You shrugged your shoulders.
"If you throw the rope I can catch it? There's a log out here I can tie it to." You offered. Questions can come later. And did you have a lot of them now.
#doctor who fanfiction#eleventh doctor#tenth doctor#ninth doctor#eleventh doctor x reader#tenth doctor x reader#ninth doctor x reader
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Red Ties
Chapter 27
Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.
Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence
Mary woke to the soft feel of lips touching her shoulder, trailing up her neck to her cheek, and lingering there for seconds, a rich colony flooding her senses. She moaned softly in the sheets, popping her eyes open to be greeted by a rustled James, whose hair was a mess but still sexy, a warm chest, and bright blue eyes. "Good morning," he whispered, his hand trailing over her shoulder and tickling her, and she drew out a soft groan, stretching in the large bed. It was like she had forgotten everything that had happened over the last three days. The lies, the truth, and the facts had been pushed to the back of her mind, and all she was in was bliss.
This was the effect he had on her—that he could cloud her mind and manipulate it to whatever he desired, taking control and making her forget anything bad. but she wasn't regretting her decision, and last night James reminded her how much she enjoyed being here with him; his touch had taken over and she was moaning his name.
"Morning," she murmured in her tired voice, and James tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, tickling her once again, which she squirmed at, turning over on her back and revealing her bare chest. James ran his hand down the middle of her breasts, circling a puckered nipple that was tender and sensitive. He placed a kiss in the middle of her boobs, running his lips and teeth up to her neck and to her lips, pressing them deeply for a good few seconds before pulling back.
"I missed having you here," he whispered against her, his hand resting on her cheek and twidling with her locks as he stared down at her. Mary grinned, biting her lower lip as tingles ran down her body, heating her up under the covers. She had missed it too.
but something was on her mind. She had said last night she didn't want the details of his mobster life, but something was bothering her, and she wouldn't be bothered by it until she asked.
"Can I ask you something?" she said, and he nodded.
"Of course," James said, feeling his stomach tighten as he wasn't sure what question was on the tip of her tongue.
"I know I said I didn't want to know anything, but how did this all start? You are doing what you do," she traced his bicep with her finger, and James sucked in a breath. He promised to be honest with her, and he wasn't going to back down on that.
"Well, it started a long time ago; my grandfather was the head of the mafia, and then he passed it down to my father, who passed it down to me. It's been in my family for generations and has been passed down ever since. When my father died, my uncle helped me get control of the business. My dad had pretty much taught me from a young age about everything, so it wasn't hard for me to grasp it," he explained.
"Do you think if your parents were alive, you would still be doing something else?" She hoped his answer would be yes, but the sigh from his nose suggested otherwise.
"My whole life has been involved in this, and from a young age, my father told me the things he had done and the reasons. It's in our blood. My grandfather was ruthless by the sounds of it; my father was very smart, and me, I guess you could say I'm a bit of both," he slightly chuckled at the thought of him having both his father and grandfather in him.
"I guess you could say I enjoy the power I have and the control I get from this city. It sounds sadistic and cruel, but I enjoy watching people fear me as I walk past them, knowing I have more people than anyone in this city," he admitted.
Mary didn't quite understand it all, but she was trying not to judge him. It sounded like this was a choice he couldn't make. She nodded silently, wanting to move on from the topic. It was early still, and she needed to get up and get ready for work.
"I should get going; I have to be at work for nine," she said, and James stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.
"I'll drop you off," he said, and she smiled.
Their car rides were back to normal, with his hand resting on her thigh, gripping it firmly, and his fingers inching closer to between her legs. She had to bat him away with a raised brow, and he chuckled, moving his hand to the steering wheel and swapping hands to rest on the window. If he left her hot and bothered for the rest of the day, she'd be craving him.
When they reached the hospital parking lot, he swaggered around to the door and opened it for her, letting her out.
"Stay with me, Tongiht," he asked, cupping her face in his hands.
"Okay," she whispered. She couldn't resist him, and she grinned up at him as he smiled in pleasure at her quick answer. He was going to have to make this a permanent change by having her stay with him every night. He couldn't bear to sleep without her, and not that he was judging, but his house was much better than her small apartment. He could probably sell it for an easy price and put the money in a savings account for her.
James glanced up when he saw a shuffling Peter in the distance, staring over at the two of them. He immediately leaned down to kiss her, swirling his tongue inside her mouth and grabbing her lip in his teeth. If he could, he'd give her neck another love bite of ownership and send her off to Peter to gloat.
Mary moaned, lifting her hand to his hair and running it through his locks, the tingle growing more and more as he kissed her. She had to pull herself back; otherwise, he'd never stop, and she laughed softly under her breath.
"I have to go now," she whispered as he pecked her once more, her fingers tightening in her hair.
"Can't you skip work?" he whispered back, and she shook her head with a grin.
"I don't think my boss would be very happy," she teased, and he growled.
"Leave him to me," he said, and Mary wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. She pressed her nose against his as a bid farewell as she pulled out of his arms, giving him a wave as she trotted off to the doors of the hospital. James watched in glory as Peter walked on by, trying to ignore the scene in front of him. James wasn't stupid; he could tell this guy liked her, and he wasn't having it. Mary was his and his only, and being the selfish man he was, he was going to do everything in his power to make Peter just as jealous.
Inside, Peter was in the nurses station, fixing a morning coffee for himself as Mary bounced in.
"Hey Peter," she greeted, and he smiled stifly.
"Hey," he replied. He couldn't get the image of her and James kissing out of his head, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his blood boil. It was obvious that they had made up.
"So have you and James made up then? I saw you in the car park." He smiled bashfully, and Mary nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Yeah, we made up; it was something silly anyway, and I'm glad we're over it," she shurried. If only that were the truth.
"Ah, that's good. Hey, do you want to come over later? We could get takeout and chill at mine if you're free," he suggested, his mood picking up slightly as Mary turned to him, pressing her lips tightly.
"I would, but I'm actually going to James's tonight," she said, and Peter nodded. Of course, she was. He shurgged as if it were no big deal, but deep inside he was annoyed. It felt like all her time was being taken up by him. He felt like she was becoming more and more distant. Before she met James, she, Peter, and Anya spent so much time together outside of work, and since he had come into the mix, it felt like she was disappearing. but Peter didn't let it show on his face and waved it off.
"Ah, okay, no worries," he said, and Mary felt a bit guilty.
"How about tomorrow? I'll come by after work," she suggested, and Peter nodded with a smile.
"Cool".
It wasn't long before the day was over, and James had walked into the parking lot a little earlier than he normally does. While waiting out into the hot summer evening against his car, he made a quick phone call to Steve, discussing business matters while he waited for Mary. His eyes were on the hospital doors intensely, waiting for the moment she stepped out so he could instantly hang up and pull her into his arms and smother her with kisses, lathering her up in his scent. He had something special planned for Thailand, which he was too excited to wait for.
To his surprise, he noticed Peter walking out alone, throwing his bag on his shoulder as he stepped down the steps of the hospital, making his way home. James watched him as he held his head down, his eyes lazily on the concrete floor, and as he began to pass the sleek black car that belonged to James, he called out to him.
"Peter" stopped in surprise, turning and furrowing his brows at James. He wasn't surprised to see him, but he was more surprised that he had called his name.
"It is Peter right," James sauntered over to him, making sure he had got the name right, even though he definitely knew that was him, and Peter nodded, clearing his throat so that hopefully a manly voice would appear as he spoke, but instead it cracked with a simple 'yeah',
"James, I don't think we've been properly introduced." He held his hand out to shake it, his large hand easily gripping the younger boy's hand and almost crushing it.
"Yeah, I don't think so," Peter murmured.
"Mary has told me so much about you," he smiled. Actually, she hadn't told him so much that his statement could be true. Peter slightly smiled, a ping going off in his head as if he had won a point in the battle of Mary. He hoped that Mary had said how much of a good friend Peter was—her best friend, in fact—in the hopes that I would make James annoyed. He was here first, after all.
"Yeah, well, we are best friends; we have been for four years now," Peter said smugly, and James chuckled.
However, Peter's smile slowly dropped as James continued. He took a step forward, easily towering over Peter as he rested his hand on the hood of his car.
"Listen, you might not think that I don't notice things, but I do, and you seem like a good friend, but Mary is mine. If you thought there was a chance that you and her might have something special between each other, then you might as well give that up. I'm not an idiot; alright, I know you probably like her. But she's mine, so do me a favour and stay out of her way." His voice had turned low and almost threatening. Peter was silent with hard eyes, and he swallowed. He balled up his fists beside him, wanting to fucking slaughter the guy, even though he probably didn't have a chance. The tension was thick, and that stupid smirk on James's face was pressing on him more.
But the sweet voice of Mary broke the tension between them, and Peter stood back as she nestled herself between them.
"Hey," James said with a smile, instantly wrapping his arm around her body and tugging her into his side.
"Hey, what's going on?" She asked, looking between the two men. Peter cleared his throat, shuffling awkwardly.
"I was just introducing myself to Peter; we haven't actually met despite you telling me about him." He acted so friendly and even offered Peter a smile, a fake one, and Peter nodded silently. He was feeling a little sick to his stomach. He badly wanted to drag Mary the hell away from him and tell her what an asshole he was. but he didn't want to ruin what she had, the smile on her face telling it all.
"Yeah, James came over to say hello," he said simply, wanting to escape this awkward meeting.
"That's amazing; I don't know why I hadn't introduced you two before. We should do dinner maybe one night with Anya," she suggested, and James nodded.
"Sure, anyway, we should get going; it was nice to meet you, Peter," James said as he pushed Mary over to the car to get her inside.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she smiled, and Peter backed off slowly, nodding his head with a stiff smile.
"See you," he murmured as she slipped into the car, and James padded over to his side. He gave one last glare to Peter before slipping in and immediately drawing out the car park. Peter watched, and as the car left, he groaned.
"Asshole".
Chapter 28
Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments
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Bruises on your pretty face
OneshotPair: Tord (post end) x reader
Song: Class Fight (Melanie Martinez)
Part 3
(A/n): The title didn't want to work
(Y/n) traces her hand over neck, trailing over to the red sweater she was wearing. She grabs the collar of it, pulling it away from her. 'This thing feels kinda ichy'
She brushes the wrinkles out the coat that covered her figuren she looks in the mirror of her room, checking if she looked tidy enough. She wanted to give an good impression on her first day.
There was a knock on the door. (Y/n) Strolls towards it, grabbing the door handle and opens the door.
On the other side stands a woman she regonises as one of generals. "(L/n), it's time to begin your first day. Are you ready?"
The (h/c) haired girl nods, closing the door behind herself. She gets lead through the facility, getting a few stares from other soldiers.
"Don't mind the other soldiers. It's been quite a while since we've gotten a new admission, I'm surprised myself" The general explains, holding her arms behind her back.
They stop at an empty training room, filled with equipment. "This is where you'll be training for the next weeks. It will just be the two of us, as you aren't on the same level of skills as other cadets".
"When will I be joining the other soldiers?" (Y/n) ask, curiously."Once I decided that you have enough experience and skill to keep up with the other. Continuing on..."
They continue walking through the halls, (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes observing the envoirment.
"Up ahead is the eating hall, where you'll be eating at eight, twelve and six. If you get lost, ask a nearby soldier" As the general speaks. (Y/n) notices a red door.
"Ma'am, may I ask where that door leads to?" She points towards the mysterious red door.
"That is Red Leader's office, the leader of this army. He is most likely in it, so we should not disturb him" The general responds, getting a nod of the girl.
┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓
Meanwhile
┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛Paul and Patryck stand outside, guarding. Patryck had his hand bawled up into a fist, pressed against his chin. A troubled expression was present on his face.It drew his follow soldier's attention "What's on your mind?" Paul asks, raising one of his thick eyebrows."There is something familiar about the new recruit, but I can't place my finger on it" Patryck answers, turning to the other.
Paul hums "Really? Which one?"
"(L/n), I think her name was. I had lead her to Senna's office a few weeks ago, it's not really a common name of I'm being honest" Patryck responds, still deep in thought.
"(Y/n) (L/n)?"
"Yeah, her"
"Tor- I mean Red Leader has mentioned her a few times. I don't remember what she exactly was to him, a friend, an rival or just someone he used to know"
"Why do I have the feeling this won't end well"
"That's the worse that can happen?"
┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓
Timeskip
┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛
(Y/n) holds up her arms infront, blocking the general's punches. Once she notices an opening in the general's attack, she pull her dominant out of the blocking position and punches the general in the stomach.
The general's figure stumbles back, surprised by the girl's action. "Good job, sproute" the general huffs. She pulls out a watch, looking at the time "Time for Lunch, I'll be see be seeing you after twenty minutes"
The soldier walks out the training room, she spots fellow soldiers, which she follow. Even tho this was her third day, she has failed to make any acquaintances.
Finally she reaches the lunchroom, filled with cadets. (Y/n) goes first to get good, grabbing a tray from a pile. After obtaining something to eat, she looks around for any place to sit.
"Hey, fresh meat, over here!" A voice yells. (Y/n) Looks over where it was, an girl a bit older then her, waving at her.
(Y/n) Walks towards her, sitting at the table. At it sat three girls and two guys, seeming the same age as the first girl.
"I had no idea that they accepted people. What's your name, newbie?" The same girl questions, looking interested at (Y/n).
"(Y/n) (L/n), I kinda joined the three days ago" (Y/n) confesses, scratching her cheek.
One of the boys lets put a snicker "Wow, I wasn't expecting you to be that fresh" he soon gets an elbow in the side from an other.
(Y/n) hears a small group past behind her. She didn't think much of it, till a hand appears in her sight. It was going over her shoulder and going towards her chest.
As if instinct, (Y/n) grabs the wrist tightly. She stands up, tugging the arm over her shoulder. Turning around, she slams the person onto the ground, pinning them to the ground.
It was a guy who didn't looked very remarkable, he hisses in pain "Get off me!" He yells, drawing attention from others in the room.
But the girl ignored his cries, making sure he was on the ground. Her gaze was filled with hatred, glaring down at the man beneath her.
She was soon tugged off him, being held back by those she sat with. The guy stands up, looking disgusted at (Y/n).
Unknownly to anyone, Paul was watching from afar, watching every that just happened. He takes a mental note of it and walks out of the lunchroom.
He walks through the hall, it was mostly empty with only a few soldiers in it. His strolls comes to an end, once he reaches the infamous door.
The Dutch man raises his hand and knocks on the door. There were a seconds of silence, before he hears a voice on the other side telling him to come in. Opening the door, Paul walks in. His eyes spot Tord or more known as Red Leader at his desk, doing some paperwork.
"What is it, Paul?" He chimes, nothing looking away from his work.
"There was a fight in the cafeteria between two soldiers. The one who started was a new recruit that joined a few days ago" Paul explains, clearing his throat.
Tord pauses "New recruit? Why wasn't informed of this?" He finally look up to meet Paul's eyes, putting down the pen he was holding.
"You weren't? Senna told us that they were accepted without hesitantion, I thought it was because you had mentioned her before" Paul responds, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
"What is her name?"
"(Y/n) (L/n), sir"
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With You At The End...
Universe: Hogwarts Legacy
Pairing: Aged Up Surprise x f!reader.
Word Count: Unsure.
Synopsis: Y/n finds herself standing at the end.
Warnings: Slight panic attack, fluff, aged up characters.
Notes: This... is my very first time sharing my writing with others outside of my immediate group. I hope you all enjoy..! I would love to know what you guys think.
.. this was it...
.. the end.
Y/n's dark earthy hues were locked. Focused solely on the reflection stood in the mirror before her. The gentle seam of her supple, though naturally pouted lips parting slightly at what she saw; and for the briefest of moments... it was like she couldn't even recognize herself.
How exactly had things come to this..? Y/n knew that if she were to be honest with herself, she had no definitive answer. No. There had been no plan; hell, there had been no intention-... It just happened. The pieces falling into place. Fitting perfectly like a jigsaw, but with no regard for what the outcome might be. And what was worse, it seemed to have all happened in such a blur.
The memories of her final years at Hogwarts steam-rolled through her mind, leaving it in a haze, and as a result, she lost the battle. Eyes forced to close as she drew in a deep, though shaky breath. A weak attempt to calm herself, she knew, but right now, it was all she could manage. Her hand lifting, she pressed it against her sternum. Holding it there for a short spell before it fell, and joined by the other, Y/n let her palms hit the polished rich oak that made up the more practical part of the vanity she was stood in front of.
So much had come to pass.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that she'd walked through the large and rather intimidating doors that led into the Great Hall. There was just no denying that she'd been a wreck; but being sorted into her house had been one of the proudest days of her life. One that had turned into one of the happiest when she'd finally taken a seat at her house table only to be welcomed by the smiling face of the one person she knew she would always want in her life.
".. it's time. You ready..?"
Torn, and not a moment too soon, from the tsunami of thoughts she was sure could consume her; Y/n lifted her head. Her eyes, filled with flecks of rich brown, and married with lighter tones of caramel, met first with their own gaze before she allowed her attention to drift. Her head turning, just slightly, she gave the mirror a profile of her sharp, though still delicate features as she instead peered over her shoulder at the one who successfully managed to pull her back to the present. His voice cutting through the mist as easily as if it were a knife gliding through butter.
".. as ready as I'll ever be..."
Y/n's voice was soft, barely hitting above a whisper. And much like her breathing, there was a slight shake to it. Though whether the words had reached his ears or not, the gentle nodding of her head gave him all the answer he needed. And it was that acknowledgement that had him stepping to the side, clearing up the doorway so that she could pass over the threshold.
.. this was it...
With each step she took, Y/n could feel her heart hammering in her chest- pounding mercilessly against her rib cage. The sound was deafening in her ears, and desperate to find an anchor, she let her hand reach out. Her nails digging slightly as she grasped tightly onto the arm of the man walking beside her. Taking his arm; hugging it flush against her side as though her very life depended on it.
.. this was the end...
".. you look beautiful, Y/n."
Once again, his voice was the lifeline that she needed. And lifting her head, Y/n was able to meet her gaze to Sebastian's. The vulnerability of the situation clear as day in her eyes. But as though he was reading her mind, he silenced all doubts with the soft touch of his lips brushing over her forehead. A comforting warmth spreading through her, causing her already lightly colored cheeks to burn brighter as the natural blush crept over them, ".. everything's going to be okay now, love."
.. It was the end of an era.
And holding her best friend's gaze a few beats longer, she knew he was right. It was all going to be okay. The corners of her lips twitching, Y/n couldn't seem to help the way they turned upward. A small smile dancing over her features, going so far as to reach her eyes, as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze of gratitude, ".. walk with me, Sebastian..?"
".. Always."
It was as though their next step had hit a trigger. The soul of her heel met with the beautiful underbrush of the forest surrounding the outer fields of Feldcroft, and as it did, that's when she began to hear it. The sweet melodious sound of violins filled the air, drifting over the gentle breeze, causing all eyes to turn toward the pair. Though she herself was looking in the opposite direction. Gazing adoringly towards the tall blond that awaited her at the end of the aisle. His eyes, while clouded, still managed to stare directly into her own, and Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat.
Constellations graced his features, and it was hard for her to fight the urge that had her wanting to rush the gap between them. She wanted nothing more than to pepper each of those beauty marks with gentle kisses. But she couldn't. Not yet. She had to be patient. She had to wait, just a little bit longer, and then she could have him. Her Ominis.
It was the end of an era... yes.
.. but it was the beginning of the rest of her life.
Note from author: A special thanks to @rosabellatonks for inspiring me to share my own writing with you guys. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to give me feedback - the only way I'm ever going to get better..! ^.^
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow x mc#ominis gaunt x mc#sebastian sallow x reader#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis gaunt x y/n#sebastian sallow x y/n#ominis gaunt x you#sebastian sallow x you#reader fic#ominis gaunt fic#sebastian sallow fic
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I just called to say I love you
I just called to say how much I care
I just called to say I love you
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart 💕🌸💐🌷🌻
Big Fanart of my 2019oc and his wrestling friend, Adrian Adonis🌸💐I drew maybe 1 month ago but take long time for writing their stories in English😂😂
Ok I post about Faren’s information already. And this post I’ll mention about one of his friends, Start with no.1 Adrian Adonis, a good friend/ big brother whose known him since they both was YoungLion and before go to WWF
*these pics below are low quality, high quality pics are following*
[Faren’s part]
My lovely brothers, Keith Adonis Franke a.k.a Adrian Adonis. He’s one of Raymond and my close friends since before we go to WWF, but reason why I still close with him because we are all obsessed with “Biker lifestyle”/ very long-winded, never stop talking😎 (different from Raymond whose more polite and taciturn / we love dressing as biker but Adonis’ style is better than me lol he spend so much money for this!
Adonis is older than me 7 years, chubby but good-looking/ nice hairstyle/ sassy man and big-mouth…and seems he doesn’t care about his weight that much. In the past we often go everywhere by our big bike/ ride in the same car, but when we both are in WWF we have different role, Adonis is heel but I’m babyface, we live in different locker room/ everybody has his own friends whose have the same role& same personalities and similar in age.. now we shouldn’t acting like close friend when go outside.
Adonis is funny person/ tough and good worker for someone…and sometimes he’s sassy man and like to act cocky for someone too, and one of these people are Lanny Poffo, one of my the first friends in WWF and Danny Spivey, one of dumbass Mike’s close friend.
I don’t know it can calls “luckily” or not that I’m one of persons whose don’t have problem with him.. we don’t have match to fight and eventhough we have similar style (or gimmick) that about biker, but we never have any problem about comparing who is better or who should be owner of biker gimmick, because we think we have many difference in their own way.
The fact that we have different role, we must act in different personality traits sometimes, and because we’re famous wrestlers to some extent , when we go outside we often see some fangirls excited to us and stop to say hi😅
Babyface like me must wave and say hi back to her even though that time I’m in a bad mood/ tired/ hungry or bored😐
But for Adonis when he notices some fangirl say hi,
He just act cold and said “get back in da house! ” . that’s why sometimes I jealous some heel wrestlers that can be honest with their feelings🫠 but at the same time I’m not ready to have heel role too, I can’t😖
Look at this👇🏻. It’s funny that we both dye our hair to blonde following some “backstage person” ‘s advice (Vince? Pat Patterson? or some bookers? I’m not sure who the hell is owner of these idea)
(Umm🫤idk I can call it’s just “advice” or not !?… I think I should use this word instead, “wanting” 🤔 I mean.. if some wrestlers don’t abide by the plans of boss’ idea , We can‘t know about our fate (wrestling role) in the future. They make you shine but they can ruined you also. Me/ Adonis and Dino Bravo are one of the people who agreed to dye our hair to blonde following their advise inevitably
Adonis must dye his hair bc he has gay gimmick of flower shop. Man.. he gain so much weight! Nobody can stop him! Ok I know that this guy is reckless, my I just can’t believe he can be reckless in this way too! 💀
I must dye my hair bc some backstage guy told me to “being more American”. Everyone knew I was the son of famous Hawaiian wrestlers “Ailani Kamealoha”, I have brown hair like my dad , but someone tried to change my identity, make wrestling fans forget everything whose son I am and where did I come from. Now I have become an American biker from Texas USA not Honolulu..I only talk about the biker lifestyle, dressing fashionably, Do not mention anything related to Hawaii or mention to my father who was a Hawaiian warrior.
Moreover, sometimes I have to act flirty, even though in fact I’m like my dad that clumsy and not good at flirting at all , I am not allowed to say that I have 3 children too🤥
Ok, back to Adonis. I want to share one of He has ever buy Pepsi for me during we are fixing a big bike(he often go out and back with some snacks).. but that time I keep that Pepsi can in my bag before bring it to hometown in Texas together and forget it in my house, and I wasn’t go back to my house for a few year after that. And not many months later, Adonis left WWF and goes to AWA and I’ve never saw him again.
Believe or not.. until this day in 2024 I still keep that can in my shelf that full of 80-90s stuffs. Seiji, my son whose doesn’t know anything often ask me to throw it in garbage because it’s expire food but I stop him😑
ok I accept the truth that I have some “old man habits” whose like to collect little things not only about biker. But I can’t help it! 🤷🏻
Stories between me and Adonis are just a short part of my whole career story, he passed away from car accident in 1988. Eventough we’re not close that much after we’re in WWF because we have their own friends/ own roles but I can’t refuse that Adonis is good brother for me and my fond memories include Adrian as one of them. He’s gone too fast, that’s the reason why I feel like…I still have unresolved issues and still not used to accept that he’s gone to somewhere. I still imagine if we both are 60 years old men, have white hair, sit together, drink some beer and share crazy journey of our wrestling career. I love you my brother, tell wrestling friends up there I said hi🤍
#Faren’s story#damn why I’m so sad🫠#art#original character#idk I should use hashtag or not#wrestling fic
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Morning crew definitely is a dynamic and not just people who wake up early, and doesn't include Aypierre or Phil, but the person who first coined the term used it to refer to Pac, Fit, Tubbo and Mike, and xe has always emphasized that Mike is part of it even though he hasn't been there in a while!
im going to be honest making the term does not equal cc(or actual)usage sob, since Fit Pac and Tubbo will always say 3/3, but soon that person will get the wish because I do genuinely just see Mike merging into it. That’d be like the person creating the first richas design dictating how everyone else drew from that design which just isn’t how that works. There was for a period that tubbo was calling everyone early morning crew but that stopped ages ago, and at the point any other references are just honorary, like when you help out a club and they call you a club member even though you aren’t. Ccs say 3/3, when listing morning crew members say Fit Pac and Tubbo, the morning crew snowmen were fit pac and tubbo, morning game night was fit pac and tubbo, meet up photos were called 2/3 3/3. Unless Mike leaves very quickly (i hope not) it’ll be 4/4 instead.
I have no clue why I feel so strongly on this I guess im a little hater whomp whomp this is so sad nothing even set me off I just decided to randomly be annoyed.
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Fingolfin for the character asks!
I'm not beating the "never answers asks" allegations, am I?
[ask game] edited for "not a tv show"
Why I like them
DILF. I want to do indecent things to him. Um ok, serious answers only.
I kind of just realized this, but there's maybe a parallel between him and feanor and manwe and morgoth. (mandatory disclaimer that I like feanor, I'm not comparing him to morgoth, and I dislike attempts to flatten him). In that fingolfin is willing to give feanor a second chance after, lets be honest, feanor screws the pooch. There's obviously some smart politicking going on with that forgiveness speech, but still. Compare it to manwe who believes strongly enough in mercy that he will give morgoth a second chance as well. I know some folks are kind of adamant that there's zero goodwill between feanor and fingolfin, but speaking from experience, shitty sibling relationships often contain that "we're not speaking but I'd still kill for you" (and he does, without a second thought). Just kind of obsessed with the loving your brother so much you dream up a better version of him in your head to forgive.
There's more that I like about him, probably even more than this, but this is what's on my mind right now.
Why I don’t
I can't think of anything to put here, love of fingolfin is clouding my judgement. Opening invitations for you or anyone reading this to drop their quibbles with fingolfin. (I'm not holding a mallet behind my back, I promise)
Favorite scene
I have a hard time picking a favorite, but the one I'm rotating in my head right now is one he and fingon share: coming down into alqualonde, seeing the fighting, and joining in without asking questions. Do they think the teleri are trying to prevent the noldor from leaving? Do they correctly know feanor started the fight? Do they join anyway in desperation to leave valinor? Or is fingolfin simply willing to kill for the older brother who can barely stand him just because he doesn't want to lose another family member?
Favorite line
Come, open wide, dark king, your gastly brazen doors! Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors! Come forth, o monstrous craven lord, and fight with thine own hand and sword, thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls, thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls, thou foe of gods and elvish race! I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face! (lays of beleriand)
Favorite outfit
Brain go brrr so I don't remember any canon clothing but nailsinmywall drew this picture of him in a massive fur trimmed cloak a while back that it's kind of printed on the backs of my eyelids. That's my fingolfin. He killed that bear himself ( <- to be read in the Ratatouille "with this thumb!!" accent).
OTP
I don't really have OTPs for fingolfin, per se? There are a lot of pairings I like for different reasons, and at different stages of his life.
Silly plug for "over the unclear eyes of memory" which I wrote a while ago for trsb but still really like. Reembodied fingolfin/anaire. In my head, anaire is great, I love my anaire.
And obvs you know "the room where they do what they don't confess" but I'll drop it here for any followers who missed it. Fingolfin/maglor inadvisable coping.
Brotp
I feel like brotp is such a weird way to phrase it, especially considering they're at each other's throats constantly, but feanor. Low hanging fruit, I know. I'm obsessed with how messy they are though.
Otherwise maedhros - which is like, a political union for the ages, and kind of a screwed up thing where they both try to re-do the whole feanor&fingolfin thing but do it right this time (but they can't make it better because feanor's dead, and maedhros isn't feanor because he's the one kneeling for fingolfin, and fingolfin isn't feanor because he's himself but he's not himself because he's king and - haunts the narrative haunts the narrative haunts the-)
Head Canon
I don't care what jirt says. His eyes are BROWN. They are dark BROWN.
Also: loves filing paperwork. Devastated when turgon leaves because fingon does not love filing paperwork.
Unpopular opinion
I think the fandom has drifted from "wow the charge against morgoth is so courageous, fingolfin is awesome" to "wow that is super depression-core and kind of a metonym for the future prospects of the noldor" to "... and this makes him less of a good person." which. I have issues with.
Yes, ditching your responsibilities as king to commit suicide is not ideal. But, I don't think jirt lauds this as great leadership anywhere in the text (no one sings about it because it's so awful - if it was good, there'd be a song). It's like. Orpheus turns around because he's narratively bound by the audience's human urges of love. Fingolfin does what he does because he's not a person: he's the noldor's narrative rage and suffering and useless perseverance and spite and revenge.
The only thing that chaps my ass more is saying it makes him a bad dad. At baseline I kind of hate the circular bad dad discussions but I don't think the solution is to cram more dads onto the list. And I have issues with "losing the fight with despair invalidates you as a parent." Like we already hashed this out with denethor and elwing, let's not do this with every other tolkien parent. And I think it super flattens the complexity of "you need to be a solid figure for your children" vs "you live in unabated misery and you have more interiority than just being a parent."
A wish
Reembodied, gets to see all his family again (and I do mean ALL), repair relationships, have a fancy beverage as a treat, etc etc
5 words to best describe them
charismatic, intelligent, steadfast, beefy, DILF (sorry, I'll see myself out)
My nickname for them
I shan't say - unless ? - no...
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How long I have been doing art
People occasionally ask me how long I’ve been drawing and that question gets me utterly confused 😅 um, probably since I remember myself?.. 😅
First of all, big reveal. I’m old. Much older than you probably ever guessed. Because I’ve been doing digital art since 2003, and I was not exactly a toddler at that point, he-he. Don’t ask me my age though – I’m still a lady and I consider it impolite 🤭 but that might actually answer the questions of many teenagers why I don’t particularly interact much 🙈
So anyways, now we have settled my “art career” span. But saying “I began doing digital art in 2003” – well… I don’t want to do that, because people will be like, “whoa, 20 years”?! And will freak out at such a prospect – 20 years to get to my level, which is, frankly speaking, far from professional. Not to mention that before digital art I also drew traditionally quite a bit.
But the main reason is because “doing digital art since 2003” does not equal “for 20 years”.
How about we revisit these years and look closer at my digital art journey? I can’t promise that I will recall everything 100% accurately, but I’ll do my best.
So around 2003-2004 I tried drawing in Photoshop for the first time. It was an image of a lion, and to be honest, to this day I’m hella proud of myself.
Yes, first attempt. Yes, I drew with a freaking mouse!
My second piece from the same year span is the “Dancer”. oh yes, the remakable hepatitis skin tone 🙈
To be honest, I don’t recall having a drawing tablet that long ago, I'm quite sure I got it only in 2008, but looking at it, despite its flaws, I can hardly believe I drew that using a mouse… I’m not sure, it’s a mystery. The Lion was definitely a mouse artwork.
From thereon I abandoned digital art for a while due to studying, then work, and finally online RPGs…
In 2008 I posted my first digital WIP after a 5 year break.
Oh my gosh... Remind me to never try realism again, clearly not my thing 🙈
I think I was trying to draw an avatar for myself, which doesn’t exactly justify drawing a woman aged probably around 40 🙈 I was not that old!! As far as I can see from my journal, that artwork crashed and only this snippet of it was what I had left. I think it’s for the good. I ended up commissioning the avatar from a proper artist, ha-ha…
Over the span of 2 months I posted 5 more digital art pieces, none of them ever completed actually 🙈 And yes, behold how ugly they are...
My ambitions were growing faster than my skills were improving. The piece with the couple with that naked girl is my special pain because I even attended a digital art course by an amazing artist I was really looking up to back then – Anry – to try and finish this piece, but I failed miserably. I was the only person in that course (5 day 12hr/day intense course) out of 15 people who came “just for fun” – the rest were pursuing a professional digital illustrator career.
This is what I left off with after that course.
In this collage you see on the left what I came with, the middle – what the teacher did after I explained my concept, and on the right – my attempt to take the piece to its final form. But I could never accept that the base was made for me and not by me...
It still grips my heart when I look at it because it was one of my greatest fails. I think that to die peacefully, I need to finish this artwork 😆 If anyone is curious about the story behind this artwork, I’ll post it separately.
Anyway, as I said, I didn’t reach my goal, was hugely disappointed in myself and dropped digital art in April 2008.
However, I came back 1.5 years later, in November 2009, when I got into anime 😂
I think that’s also when I first tried Paint Tool SAI. Up until March 2012, I uploaded roughly 20+/- digital artworks/WIPs. The quality was a bit inconsistent, but I was beginning to get the hang of it a bit, finally. Here are some of them (yeah, the span of the mood is extraordinary):
So, in 2.5 years – merely 20 artworks. Just to compare, in 2022 alone I made 75+ artworks, which doesn’t even include animations and stuff I considered to not be proper artworks.
So, my last artwork from that period was in March 2012 (the one with the winged dude blocking the way for the girl), after which I abandoned digital art again, for good this time. I actually thought - forever, to be honest.
I’m not sure what happened then. I guess I just lost my motivation, got over my fictional crushes, was depressed and not happy with myself…
Problem is that in reality, I don’t have any imagination at all. Part of the reason why I always suspected that despite being quite decent in drawing, I would never succeed as an artist, so I could only say that my dream was to draw for Disney. But I knew I never would. And I knew I can’t do original art. Fan arts – yes, subject to being highly inspired, a feeling similar to a crush. I was too dependent on the mood. But even so… my artworks never were particularly fancy or original, I admit it.
Part of the reason why I’m also so sensitive about AI now. I see people actually living my dream, and I'm so happy for them. Working as illustrators, having an income from what they create... And that is being stolen from them now. That’s why I will probably never accept AI.
Ugh, turned off the subject…
Anyway, as I said, I abandoned art in 2012 and only picked it back up in October 2021 because of Kakashi. 😆
If my math is correct, that’s a 9.5 year break. I have been going non-stop since October 2021, so I would say that my ongoing artistic journey lasts for almost 2 years now. The previous 2-year period with 20 artworks – I’m not really sure about the value of that. The previous 7 digital artworks – even more so.
If I had to sum up my entire digital art journey, – I would say it is around 5–6 years, but in reality probably won’t add up even to 3 years, because the 3 years adding up from a bit of 2003, a bit of 2008 and bits of 2009-2012 had me produce only around 30 artworks, a majority of which were never even completed.
My main progress happened between 2021 and now, so in the last 2 years. And to be honest, I understand that if I am to continue - this is only the beginning...
#my digital art journey#yeah if it wasn't for Kakashi I probably wouldn't be drawing now#Kakashi is literally the reason I got back into art#Kakashi for life#Kakashi#Naruto#thank you Kishi#artists on tumblr#art#illustration
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It's 04:00am and he's thinking of you.
☆ character: Aizawa Shouta
☆ reader: female, aged-up
☆ rating: fluff, mature content / very slight nsfw
☆ warnings: suggestive themes
☆ word count: 1001
⇢ Bakugou's 04:00am thoughts
⇢ masterlist
a/n: this makes the second piece to my 04:00am thoughts series. if you want to, feel free to let me know whom I should do next. enjoy!
minors, do not interact!
© all rights reserved to @ki-ka-katsuki. do not repost or plagiarize.
Defeated and tired from yet another day of preparing exams and planning class trips, he drags himself up from his old armchair to grab the lukewarm cup of coffee from the machine. His eyes, barely opened, are dull with exhaustion when he takes a careless glance at the old alarm clock, counting away minute after minute in what feels like mere seconds. 04:34 am, it says, on a chilly Friday morning.
Normally, he tries to keep his Fridays as free from work as possible. Two days off in a week of seven is just nowhere near enough. You spend one of them recovering from plodding around non-stop and the other preparing for the repetition. What a stupid custom, really. If he had the power to change it somehow, he would. But he doesn’t, so instead, he makes time for just half a day more. As much as his schedule allows him to, at least. And he makes it clear to everyone that if they have business with him on a Friday, they better be quick about it. Because after his early morning class, he’s gone.
Though today is a bit different from that.
Taking a sip from his cup, Aizawa leans against the wooden cabinet and takes a look out the window. In about twelve hours he’s going to pick you up from that train station down there, right where the bakery’s old ventilation engines drone peacefully, greeting occasional passersby, without rest.
Sigh.
He’s too old for this. Waiting like a small puppy, impatient and fidgety, for someone to finally arrive. To ease that demand for attention. Yet it seems he can’t quite fight that feeling because you’re not just anyone.
You’re his little secret. His new-found spark of hope that love hasn’t completely desert his heart yet, and he wants to trust it this time.
On that train a few months ago, when you had the courage to ask him for directions, he was sure you would fade into the obscurity of his mind just like the rest of the passengers. Ever since he became a teacher, he couldn’t allow himself to waste his capacities on trivial things anymore. Like memorizing someone’s face, let alone their name. But then you thanked him so kindly, so genuinely and with such authentic relief that he couldn’t help but wonder whether there was even the slightest chance he would get to meet you again someday. So that he could help you out once more, like on that day. Just to hear you speak such honest words again, like a breath of fresh air, causing all of his daily stress and concerns to fade away for just a bit.
Aizawa chuckles lowly, the corners of his mouth raising into a gentle, tired smile. He can feel his breathing increase a little at the thought of how he found you two days after that train ride. In front of a grocery store by the station, crouching down to collect a bunch of oranges that had fallen from an elderly woman’s grip. Your cheeks were flushed pink from the glowing sun rays as you waved her goodbye. And you still wore that beautiful smile when you turned around, ready to go home.
But then your eyes spotted a familiar silhouette standing on the other side of the street. It took a moment for you to realize, yet when it hit you, the last thing you could hear was the sharp breath you drew before the thumps of your heartbeat drowned out your entire surroundings.
Slowly, your feet carried you towards him, parted lips turning upwards as the distance between you dwindled.
“It’s you!”
It’s you.
Truly, it felt like fate.
To him, your presence is like a blessing, one that wants to be cherished with care – and he’s willing to try again. He’s far from perfect, he knows that – and by now, you do too – but with the way you admire him every time you meet, with the way you bring his flaws to his attention so respectfully, it seems he has found a reason to hope.
Today, on a rainy day at the end of September, he’s going to keep his promise and take you into his home for the first time. It’s ridiculous how the mere fact that he’ll be able to have you so close without anyone to see won’t let him sleep tonight. If it wasn’t for you, he might seriously fall asleep again during class – when everyone’s busy solving overly complex questions.
Another sigh escapes his lips as Aizawa turns his gaze over to his bedside table, a prickling sensation spreading in his stomach as he remembers how he made sure it wasn’t empty.
Again, he’s too old to be worrying so much, but you’re special to him. He wants to treat you right, so he lets you make all the decisions today. However you want to spend the night together, he doesn’t care as long as you’re alone and comfortable within the confines of his apartment.
Little does he know how you’re already tossing and turning in your bed right now, thinking of him in similar ways.
Your heart is beating with such force you wonder whether it might knock you out any second. No matter how hard you try to calm yourself down, the fuzzy feeling in your lower belly just won’t come to rest. You feel ashamed somehow, having these thoughts about a man you haven’t even kissed yet.
It's already 04:59 am, the rain has started pattering against your window as well, and you’re caught in that drowsy state between sleep and waking. A very abstruse and confusing state in which you find yourself struggling to tell apart reality from imagination.
Though one thing is certain: the man who has you feeling this excited and nervous in the middle of the night is undeniably real, and there are only 11 hours left until you’ll be able to make sure of that one more time – and afterwards, forever.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha#my hero academia#僕のヒーローアカデミア#aizawa#aizawa shouta#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#4am thoughts#aizawa smut#smut#bnha blurb#bnha fluff#aizawa fluff#bnha fanfiction#retro aesthetic#vhs aesthetic#80s aesthetic
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answering my own questions
[pt: answering my own questions]
dont really get sent anything and not many people sent in the questions when the games were posted and reblogged, and i wanted to talk about stuff, so here we are.
this might end up being a multiple part post series?
ask game one (link)
(if comfortable) tell us about your condition? as much info as youre comfy with sharing.
i have a defect in the base of my spine, since i was born its caused me chronic pain all throughout my development and in recent years its only gotten worse, twisting my spine, headaches, jaw issues etc. i've also got highly suspected rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and ive been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of anemia so bad that everytime a doctor looks at my results after bloodwork they give me a pained look and say "heyy...did you know your iron is low? like...really really low?". that and a hand full of other things, vitamin deficiencies, etc. i dont mind talking more about this
2. do you know about the spoon theory? if yes, what do you think of it?
i'll be honest, the majority of my knowledge of spoon theory off the top of my head is that "drawer with limited supply of spoons" is the disabled way of saying i only have so much motivation and energy (phys, as "battery" usually refers to social and emotional) in me. i've read up on it ages ago but would not be able to put into better words what i still remember about spoon theory (esp since we had a different host back then), i like that its just so much quicker and easier to convey my amount of ability to do things for the day by saying whether or not i have the spoons for it.
i do like to joke that my drawer is always stocked with knives and forks for the ablests, but sometimes that requires spoons to handle too. /silly
3. do you have mobility aids? if yes, which ones? if no, do you want any in the future?
i've mention how i really wish i could have a wheelchair if i were in a different situation, i dont know if i'll ever get one and i almost cried when my brother responded to my joke of "would you make on for me?" with an "i would if i could", i really would like a wheelchair of some kind in the future if the world were more accessible and i were in a safer place. right now though, i've just got my cane that still needs repainting. i guess my moms back brace counts too, i take it with me to work sometimes.
4. how did you find out about cripplepunk? what drew you to the community and movement?
i dont exactly remember but i've known about it for years. i (prev host) might have come across it looking up different punk aesthetics, though im not completely sure why it showed up in a punk aesthetic list, possibly because its punk and people misinterpreted it? my first glimpse was seeing patches on jackets, spiked customized aids, cripples/phys disabled people in your classic punk attire (piercings, dyed spiked mohawks, ripped jeans and fingerless gloves) and i loved it. im a sucker for self expression through appearance and customizing things and then when i found out it was a whole community for support and centered around being physically disabled in general and slowly came to terms with my own disabled body and started accepting myself, i kinda fell in love with cripplepunk in the "this feels like home" sense.
i could probably ramble way more but i'll stop there.
5. if you deal with any kind of pain, what's your method of pain management?
i use hot packs, ice packs, voltaren cream, sometimes i take a cbd gummy, i do little stretches when i remember them, i take walks and hot baths/showers, im trying to go back to the chiropractor and my favourite instructors in rehab (theyre trans friendly and complimented my cane when i first came in with it i love them so much), and i take whatever meds i can, normally anti-inflammatory like ibuprofen but because i cant swallow pills i either take liquid (yeah, childs liquid meds works, the couple hours of mild relief is still worth it) or powdered tylenol or something. the hot/cold stuff depends on the pain and where on my body the pain is.
6. do you stand or sit in the shower or do you prefer baths/find bathing easier rather than showers?
i take baths for my muscles and during the damn monthly ouch in order to relax my body. i take showers just for my shoulders and when im feeling icky and wanna rinse off or something, i take showers on a "regular" basis and i normally stand because the only way i sit is if im crouched in the tub and if i do that i get extra dizzy standing up to get out when i turn the water off. thankfully im no longer near passing out when i take a shower but i still have to sit on the floor matt after because my legs demand rest.
i gotta be careful with hot water cuz not only will it make me overheat quickly (i will not realize if in standing in blood-boiling hot water and turning myself into a cooked lobster until after im out) but it can also cause me to literally fall asleep in the bath which can go wrong.
7. do you have a sort of comfort item or safety blanket that helps you feel better, especially on the worst days?
a couple things. a few of them are stuffies/plushies, or music, games or books to help me keep my mind off it i suppose.
8. name 3 things you hate about hospitals/doctors/nurses/the medical system
a) a lot of them refuse to take people seriously or actually listen. sure maybe theyre tired or heard the same shtick before and wanna make sure this person isnt just a drug user trying to pity their way into getting more, but even then all matters a patient presents them with should still be taken seriously and never brushed off or mocked.
b) the fact that the er, the place you take a ticket and wait, is called the Emergency Room, when its normally scheduled appointments and people taken in by the ambulance that are top priority. sure its called the er because most visits through the er are rushed "emergency" last minute visits, people going there because they couldnt schedule an appointment and needed to see someone on that day, but still it feels wrong to call it the emergency room when its really just a waiting room and regardless of the visit they arent actually treated as emergencies. the whole system of just going to see a doctor feels messed up and most of the time you end up just going to see a nurse, get a check up and leave when they tell you what they got after a talk and examination or they schedule to see you again when a doctor is available. because of this i tend to prefer walk in clinics.
c) the fact that they charge to damn much, no matter if youre insured, it still charges so much. no matter what they do. and yeah, healthcare in canada is free to an extent if youre insured but a lot of times they charge more than your insurance can cover and not everyone can get/has insurance. not to mention the medical debt so many people have in america. i get that staff and hospitals need pay and funding but the government should have that covered and not have the patients charged so much for getting help. i almost got charged over 3k just for my short visit to the ward because there was an issue with my insurance and thats a whole angry story for another time.
9. whats an accessibility tool you wish was more accessible/that you had access to?
one of them is aac, the one i have on my phone i have to disconnect my phone to and has a limited amount of phrases i can pick from. id like it better if the app or just aac programs in general when directly to your device speaker by default, had more options for more ease conversing and none of them were behind a damn pay wall, in-app purchase or otherwise. i rarely use it for several reasons but i'd love if i could use it more with less limitations.
also wheelchair ramps. i dont have a wheelchair ramp but i wish people stopped walking on them when theyre clearly able-bodied, i wished my parents taught me and my siblings what the ramps were for and not to run up and down them as well as other parents to their kids because those things are supposed to be clear for a wheelchair user. i also think the corners should be rounded for ease of turning and that wheelchair accessible paths in general should be firm to the ground (not a wimpy matt on the sand that flips over and gets buried on the beach unmaintained), maintained and cleaned regularly, not have any gaps (ive seen so many of the small ones installed in doorways that have a height gap above the ground which causes trouble getting the wheelchair on the ramp let alone through the damn door) and not have railings made of metal if theyre outside (they can often reflect light into peoples eyes and get too hot to touch in the sun both of which are not good issues to have no matter how small they seem.)
those are at least the first to come to mind.
10. whats the worst accessability cockblock you've seen ableds do/make?
theres quite a few i've seen but atm nothing significant comes to mind other than overpricing mobility aids or placing paywalls in front of aids in general.
however there was the few times in more than one school i went to you had to go to the office, provide a 'valid' reason and ask them for a key to the elevator, otherwise they make you take the stairs. i know they do it because they dont want able-bodied kids messing with it n shit but its stupid, it should be accessible to everyone regardless. thank fuck both collages ive been to so far give free elevator use to any staff or student but in the schools i went to i was only allowed have the access key because i couldnt walk up the steps on my sprained/twisted ankle and i had to give it back at the end of every day. the last school even limited my use to just the morning or 1-2 periods that i had on the second floor. nevermind if my locker was up there.
11. whats an accessibility tool youre very thankful for?
screen readers. my little brother uses/used em more than me and i dont use them too often but im glad they exist in general i used them when i was younger and my english teachers gave us work on the computer, i used it like an audiobook and it helped me majorly. i hate that people dont always provide translations to things and make things harder on screen readers by using coloured, tiny, non-serif font-ed or 'quirked' text but ever since i was a kid i was just as happy they existed as i was about braille.
12. name 3 things you like about hospitals/docs/nurses/the medical system
a) that there are some people there who are actually hoping, willing and ready to listen and help others.
b) that they provide things for kids like toys in the waiting room, people who specialize in caring for kids in the hospital, some doctors even have their office decorated. one doctor i went to had her entire office winnie the pooh themed and it helped me out a lot when i got blood work done n stuff, it was really comforting to stare at pooh bear instead of the sharp pokey in my arm.
c) that things are usually kept quiet with low voices, as it reduces risk of overstimulation as well as avoids hurting anyones head and protects privacy of those talking about whats going on. voices are usually only raised to a normal talking level when in the privacy of a nurse or doctor office and its something i dont see really acknowledged anywhere.
13. do you have any favourite disability rep? (media or character)
not picking from my own sources, when it comes to physical disability rep, its hard for me to pick something that involves a realistic character because most of them arent very well portrayed or i cant personally relate to. i can list Freddy freeman as one, hes a crutch user and how the shazam movie portrayed him does well in expressing what ableism can be like for some visibly disabled kids in school. i could probably list some shows that handle disability well through other means if i thought of them, i know theres a few that handle it through super heros being disabled (the one spider-person who's got both a wheelchair and a cane from the recent spiderverse movie for example) or non-human characters having differences that are implied to be disabilities, and i adore that creativity, especially with showing disabled super heros as it tells disabled kids theyre still strong, not broken, they can still be cool and do great things just like able-bodied people.
hard for me to name specific things off the top of my head though, guess i like specific tropes around disability rep more than anything. it helps normalize disability and thats what really makes me happy with it. (thats a big reason why i made @/your-fave-is-crippled)
14. least favourite/worst disability rep?
not phys disabled but sia's fucked up movie right off the bat still angers me. i cant name any specifics once again, normally if theres some rep that i dont like i purposely forget they exist to begin with, they arent worth remembering if they arent gonna do it right, y'know? id rather forget and move on than linger and rage about it if i can help it.
15. list some creators (youtubers/bloggers etc) that are disabled and/or cater to a disabled audience that you enjoy? (if any)
@crippled-pvp, @cripple-culture-is are a couple blogs i follow that i enjoy seeing on my dash (sorry if you dont want to be tagged!)
there was a deaf/hoh girl i used to frequent the content of as she talks a lot about signing and i really enjoyed her videos, shes such a sweet person but i never remembered her name nor any of the other creators i watched/followed. no one else comes to mind atm
16. favourite aspect about the general disabled community?
i like that there are people with advice at the ready, whatever question you have or info you need etc, theres always going to be someone with the words you need. i just like how helpful people can be in general in this community and how easily support is accessed through the community.
17. least favourite aspect about the general disabled community?
the fact that theres in-fighting, fake claiming, judgment, quick assumptions, and general internalized ableism still going on when we're supposed to be a community helping each other out not tearing each other down. im not just talking about the fight over "inclusion vs exclusion" on cripplepunk and other sub/separate communities in the disability community.
18. favourite aspect about cripplepunk?
i think my answer to "what drew you to cripplepunk" also answers this.
19. least favourite aspect about cripplepunk?
honestly? none. i hate the people forcing themselves into a space not meant to include them nor benefits them in the first place. i cant actually think of an issue i have with the cpunk community, only issues with people outside being upset over how "exclusive" it is because they want in.
20. free space:
feel free to ask me about any of my answers! i'll make a second post for the second ask game some other time. its currently 11pm and i have to get up early for morning classes yuck
[ID: banner reading "dni if... proship, transx/id, syscourse/discourse blog, anti-mspec lesbians/gays, anti-lesboy/turigirl more in pinned rentry. this blog is protected by the addams family, the de rolo family and co." in all black lowercase text. It has a grey cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms with a cobweb in the top corner and symmetrically flipped on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina with the same cobweb in the bottom corner :End ID]
#cass rambles#disability blogging#actually disabled#physically disabled#cripplepunk#physical disability#cpunk#disabled#cripple punk#cpunk blog#answers
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