#AND i kept it under 30 layers!!!! what!!!!

[melatien]

testing default brushes in CSP

#yoichi shigaraki #shigaraki yoichi #one for all #my hero academia #first ofa user #mha yoichi #mha #i put effort into the skin for once are you guys proud of me!!! #i did this in 4 hours omg sugi is rubbing off on me this is a ceritfied achievement. #AND i kept it under 30 layers!!!! what!!!! #for reference my most reference drawing has 600 layers #yeah.... #we dont talk about that one #my art

[allfryam]

weight gain drive story

Shane had always coasted through life on his good looks. He was a popular football player in high school, and he somehow avoided the freshman 15 in college. His life was perfect until his girlfriend of 3 years, Ashley, broke up with him out of nowhere. It broke Shane. He didn’t come out of his room for a week, and he spent most of his days crying in bed.

but Shane quickly recovered and hopped back into his normal life. He wasn’t one to just leave a relationship though. He had to make Ashley jealous. He started going to the gym every single day. He always thought he was a little skinny and wished he was bigger. He was talking about it on the phone with one of his buddies when a strange man overheard him. “You tryna get big?” The strange man said. “Uhhh… yeah?” Shane replied. “Take this. You’ll be bigger in no time.” He tossed a small bottle to Shane and walked away. Shane examined the bottle. “GET BIGGER EVERY DAY!” Shane was skeptical, but he reluctantly drank the liquid and tossed the bottle.

Shane took note of his starting weight. 155 pounds. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Hopefully this junk works.” He said to himself. the next morning, Shane rushed to the bathroom to weigh himself. 156 pounds. That shit only made him gain a pound. What a waste. He went about his week like normal until 4 days later. He checked his weight to see 160 pounds. Huh. A pound a day? That was a lot faster that he normally gained weight. He looked at himself in the mirror to see his midsection growing ever so slightly. There was just a thin layer of softness that was beginning to cover his abs. Shane didn’t notice however. He saw his arms getting slightly wider and he was ecstatic. He was finally starting to gain some real muscle.

a week had passed, and Shane was still gaining exactly one pound a day. He was up 13 pounds from his starting weight, and his friends started to notice. “Yo. Lay off the ice cream, tubby” his friend mark commented. Shane looked down to see that his gym shirt didn’t quite cover his belly all the way. There was a small but noticeable layer of pudge peeking out of his shirt. His face got red and he tugged his shirt down. “Maybe I should stick to the weight im at now.” He thought to himself. But the weight kept coming. Exactly one pound a day. 169. 170. 171. 172. It kept climbing. Shane was starting to get worried. How long would this spell last? Would he continue to gain weight forever? Shane was frightened, but looking in the mirror, he had never looked stronger.

after the first month, Shane was up 30 pounds. He hit 185 in no time. Sweatpants were all that fit over his round butt, and he wore hoodies to try and conceal his growing belly. That didn’t really help though. Mark was constantly making fun of his friend’s weight gain and poking Shane’s belly. Shane would even try to stop eating for a day, but the weight still climbed. Shane was ready to give up. What’s the point of eating healthy if you’re going to gain weight anyway? Shane decided to treat himself by eating whatever he wanted from now on.

after two months, Shane was ahead of schedule. He was supposed to be up 60 pounds, but when he stepped on the scale, he was up 70! He was still gaining a pound a day, but all of the pizza and ice cream he was eating was also making him even fatter. Shane almost didn’t recognize himself anymore. He had a double chin, his pecs began to melt and get saggy, his toned arms grew larger and softer. But his stomach was the worst of all. It was like having a beach ball under your shirt at all times. Not even his baggiest hoodies could contain the mass of his gut.

after 100 days, Shane was up 139 pounds. He almost hit 300! He was at 294. The spell seemed like it finally wore off, but what had Shane done to himself. His belly was huge! It hung over his tight pants and bursted through the buttons on his shirts. Shane’s entire body jiggled with each step, and he was constantly out of breath. But his arms were huge. He looked like he could lift a truck with his pinky. Shane decided the belly was a sacrifice he was willing to make to keep these bear arms.

thank you to everyone who participated in the weight gain drive! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you have fun reading it. I may do more like this in the future so stay tuned. I hope everyone has a merry Christmas!

#fat #fat belly #fatty #gaining fat #chubby #fat gut #fatty piggy #gaining #gaining weight #getting bigger #male wg #hot male #fatboy #sexy belly #big boy

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hi! Would you be able to do a Nizea x reader. Nizea overworking himself so much that he ends up sick but is stubborn about it until it gets really bad and then reader takes care of him? Thank you!!

I'm assuming that "Nizea" is "Nozel" ^^' Apologies if it isn't ^^'

But I was in mood for some Nozel writing, so I hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Nozel x gn!reader Genre: Fluff (or hurt-comfort??) Fanfic type: Oneshot Contains: reader has feelings of annoyance about how much Nozel needs to work, the word "hell" is used one as an expiration, Nozel being stubborn and reader tries to get him to rest, a lot of beckoning and reasoning with Nozel, Nozel is referred in one part as "braid-face" but he's also "[my] braid-face" so affectionate, sleepy Nozel, he thanks reader at the end, a bit romantic Word count: ~1.9k

You sighed. It was a heavy, heavy sigh that made you lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling, giving your eyes a moment of rest from staring the text right in front of you. And with the motion, your body bending backwards and your eyes lifting up, it almost felt as if tension was flowing down and gathering to your feet. Which... wasn’t still exactly comfortable or relaxing, but it was better than staying slouched over your desk.

Though you knew that you shouldn’t slouch. Or study too much continuously. Take breaks. Drink water. Stretch and move. All of this you knew. What you were supposed to do.

But somehow, you never got around to it. You kept on doing the same thing as before. Maybe because it had worked this far, so why wouldn’t it continue working from here on?

Though... as your eyes fell back down, without focus, as if staring nowhere while you became immersed into your own thoughts, you thought about how you barely had time for anything else in life than this. Working. Reading. Studying. Going through all these papers and text and notes and... everything that came with it.

Sure, it was useful. And you wanted to do this, help the squad and do your part.

Hell, you knew that Nozel worked harder. He might not have seemed like the type outwards; a hard worker. Rather someone who just had gotten the job via family connections and had it easy because of his excessive mana pool. But in reality, he worked harder than most.

Both when it came to his own magic, as well as governing the squad.

So... maybe... maybe you shouldn’t complain. About how it was hard. And tiring. Because... you did want to do this. Too. It was just that... sometimes you didn’t want to do it so much.

You wanted to live a little. More. Live a bit more.

Live with Nozel.

But he had his convictions and responsibilities, so while he was caught up with that, you might just as well make your time useful. Though... life wasn’t all about being useful. Life was meant to be lived.

Your eyes turned to the candle on your desk, ready to burn out. And somehow, as ludicrous as it might have sounded, it felt like the candle was mocking you. Or maybe telling you something. In any case, you found yourself becoming irritated by that candle. About how it was burning out.

About how a certain braid-face was burning himself out.

Because, he might have been a braid-face, but he was your braid face. As questionable as his fashion choices might have been, he had a heart of gold. Deep down, under all the layers of struggling to communicate his feelings.

He was too precious to burn himself out before he was even 30.

And so, you got up, and marched out of the library with a quest to find your beloved.

Most likely he would be in his office, so that was your first destination. And it wasn’t too far from the library, since there might have been a need to revise some books for work purposes. So, it didn’t take a long time for you to get there.

You knocked on the door haphazardly before already opening the door, squeezing the door handle while still feeling that irritation bubbling and swirling inside of you. And all because of that stupid candle and what it meant for you.

“What is the meaning of-“ he managed, but stopped, seeing that it was you.

And you... you stopped because of the sight in front of you.

Nozel was ... looking like himself. Only that the bags under his eyes were worse, and he was slightly slouched, wearing his cape, which... he rarely did while sitting in his chair, because it got too hot. But his eyes... they were so, so very tired. Tired and somehow still held that stubborn glare that he often had.

The next thing he did, was sigh, before speaking out. “I’ll come to bed when I’ve finished this,” he told you while directing his gaze back onto the paper in front of him.

“What do you mean when ‘you’ve finished this’?” You asked, having concluded to yourself that he wasn’t well.

He let out a hum, and quirked an eyebrow at you, but didn’t say anything.

“You look sick. When was the last time you ate? Are you feeling feverish? And how much sleep did you get last night?”

“More than the night before,” he answered, which wasn’t all that informative, because he got up before you did.

So, you crossed your arms, expecting him to elaborate on his answer.

Which he didn’t, perhaps because he knew that you wouldn’t like the answer. And he’d have to hear about it.

Instead, he turned his eyes back down and begun writing.

“I take it that you barely did. Any of those things,” you told him with a sigh of your own and pushed the door closed behind you.

Annoyance and contesting him would get you nowhere, you knew as much. Sure, Nozel was sensible and would talk out a lot of things, if he saw it necessary and or beneficial, but it didn’t mean that he’d respond well to being contested. Even by you. At least not directly, and as blatantly as one might imagine contesting to take place.

“Look...” you continued while circling around his table as your arms fell down to your sides, only for your right hand to lift back up so that it might land onto his forehead.

His braid brushed against your skin as your fingertips came in contact with his damp and warm forehead; a touch away from which he didn’t move. If anything, it felt almost as if he was leaning into it, sinking into the sensation of your touch. Under your hand, and what it meant for him.

“Your hand feels cold,” he told with a hushed tone, gaze barely lifting from his desk and to glance at you from the corner of his eyes.

“No,” you replied with a small shake of your head and a tender tone. “Your forehead is burning up.”

His eyelids closed, as if in a silent prayer, and he swallowed. Because, he was caught.

“I cannot be sick,” he finally said, after a pause, sounding tired, and defeated, but also adamant and stubborn.

He was strange like that. He held a lot of paradoxes within himself.

And you knew that he had gotten where he was because of that stubbornness. By refusing to give in. Which was one of the things that you loved about him.

“No one asked if you can or cannot. That’s how life works,” you told him as your left hand found its way onto his chest, and slid across the fluff of his cape lower, as if looking to engulf him into an embrace. “You’re sick no matter whether you can, or cannot. No one asks for it, but it needs to be taken care of regardless.”

And for a moment, it felt like he was taking a deep breath, and succumbing to it; the lure of a comfortable bed. Maybe some warm soup and rest; sleeping by your side. But then he tensed up under your arms again.

“I still need to finish this,” he replied, the all too familiar determination clear in his tone. “You go ahead, and I’ll-“

“We’ll go together,” you told him. “You’re not in this alone, and you need to be well, so that you can do your job properly.”

His eyes turned back to you, even if only barely, as if inspecting how much of that determination of yours was in your gaze. But he kept his silence.

“And... the way you’re headed, makes me fear that you’ll have a heart attack when you’re 30.” It was a slight exaggeration, but not much. “I was planning on spending the rest of my life with you. I’d hate to have it so short-lived.”

“The life of a knight is dangerous,” his eyes closed in a slow blink, but his tone was again hushed, speaking of his willingness to give in, little by little. Only little by little, because he was bad at simply rolling over and admitting defeat.

“So why ad to that danger? Do you not seek to minimize all hazards, hm? And what about the family we’ve talked about?” The last one was a tad bit of a cheap shot.

But if it’d get him in bed and resting, you’d take it.

He took a deep breath under your touch, which told you that he was getting there. He was giving in. All it needed was a little nudge more.

“And I miss you,” you cooed while giving his temple a small kiss.

He sighed, and relaxed, as if melting in your arms.

You had won. And the notion of victory made the corners of your lips tug up.

“Alright...” he whispered while getting up from his seat, during which you tried to swallow some of the smile you were wearing. Because you didn’t want to seem too happy about your triumph. Happy, yes, but not too happy.

And yet, as he had barely gotten up from his seat, you took his hand, gentle and secure and begun leading him to your bedroom.

“I’ll ask for some soup and something for you to drink before we go sleep, because you need to keep your strength up,” you glanced to him over your shoulder as your steps bounced off the walls. “Then you’ll sleep, as long as you need. I’ll send a word to the headquarters and ask Nils to take on your duties, as much as he can, for a while.”

A frown climbed onto his brows, because he hated feeling useless. You knew as much. But he wasn’t. He simply needed rest and time to heal. After all, he was only human.

“I’m willing to bet that he’s grateful for your return, after you’ve healed. Because you do your job the best,” you told him, soothing his feelings a little, and giving him a small smile.

And a faint smile settled onto his lips as well, which was accompanied by a nod. Without a word. Just a smile. But that smile told you just how much those words meant to him in that moment. Just how precious they were along with what they meant.

Your journey continued in silence, and you slipped out of the bedroom just long enough to ask for some soup and drink for Nozel as he took a shower and changed into his pyjamas. And as he ate, you took yours, so that once you slipped under the covers, and he buried his face to your chest, seeking your comfort and warmth, all was well.

You let your fingers glide through his hair as his chest rose and fell in a steady manner as sleep was overtaking him. But before it did, you heard a soft and silent “thank you”, which made your heart skip a beat, as a wave of the most tender of emotions washed over you.

“You’re welcome, my silver prince,” you whispered back, unsure if he had already fallen asleep or not. But, somehow, you were certain that he heard you, even if he had.

#black clover fanfiction #nozel x reader #nozel silva x reader #black clover oneshot #black clover x reader #black clover x you

[mintymarabell]

A sliver of luck

A/n: This is honestly something I just thought of in the moment.

Summary: Curiosity kills the cat in this case it might have killed you after standing on a frozen lake to get the perfect view, what happens when an unwelcome visitor comes along.

Word count: 687

He didn’t know he could cry. But you proved him wrong that very day. It all happened so fast, one minute you were standing on the frozen lake telling him how beautiful it was. The next a xenomorph was crashing through the ice and pulling you under. He had ran, ran as fast as he could, onto the ice, it cracked under his heavyweight but he didn’t care. He dove into the lake, he turned his mask onto thermal, your body far under. He made light work of the xeno, he pulled your limp body to the surface, laying you onto the ice. He placed an oxygen mask onto your mouth as he began chest compressions. 1…..2…..3….4….5…..6 he did this until he got to 30, he checked your pulse. Nothing.

You two were light years from civilization, from a doctor, from anyone. Even if there were other yautja, there was a bigger chance they’re outcasts, bad bloods even. After counting to 30 again he checked your pulse, nothing.. he yanked his mask off throwing it somewhere along the iced lake, he roared into the cold air, and then silence. What was he gonna do? You're his mate. And yet he couldn’t even protect you.. he leaned over your form, taking in your paled face. He always was the one that ran hotter in the relationship, but you were never this cold. Not even when you’d put your cold feet against the back of his legs while you both laid in bed, he never minded it, he loved it even, it let him know you were alive, let him know his mate was just right behind him.

As he looked at your face two droplets of water fell onto your cheek. Water? He reached up to his eye, was he crying? Hunters were not allowed to cry, they were not allowed to be kept in the grasps of emotion, one can not hunt when they are overwhelmed with emotion? And yet here he was crying over his little ooman mate. Why did you have to walk on the ice.. why did you have to be too curious.. why didn’t he come with you… if he had come with you then he would have been able to save you before you went under… oh what he would give to see your smiling face.. he tore at his tendrils and the many quills on his face, this was his fault. Your death was his fault. If only… if only he had been with you, instead of sitting on the shore to watch.. he’s so dumb.. he’s unworthy of a mate.. he is undeserving of you.

A choking sound was heard. He quickly swung his head in your direction, was that you? He looked at you, you quickly rose, yanking the mask off to cough up water. After your coughing fit was over you were quickly enveloped into a hug. “Igor?” You spoke as you hugged him back. He clutched onto your wet clothes, “let’s go back to the ship and get you into warm clothes.” You nodded to which he picked you up bridal style, he walked over and picked up his discarded mask before running back to the ship.

After you both got back to the ship he practically stripped you of all your clothes, wrapping a fluffy pelt around your body as he went to prepare a bath. He laid out some dry clothes for after the bath. He picked you up, pulling the pelt off he eased you into the bath. The temperature was just right, though for him it was quite cold but he didn’t mind as he eased in behind you, he took a hold of your soap and started lathering your body.

Once he was done he drained the bath as he toweled you off and put on your clothes. He laid you in the bed, layering multiple blankets and furs on top of you, he then crawled in beside you, pulling you to his chest. “Please do not scare me like that again, little bug.” You pat his side, “I won’t, I promise.”

That night, he held you just a little tighter.

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja angst #angst with a happy ending #lucky

[tlonista]

Multifandom Hurt/Comfort

Everything hurts; just hope you've got somebody to hold you together when it does. My multifandom writing highlights.

Careful, I Bite (Baldur's Gate 3)

Seducere (14,000 words) - Astarion's complicated, mostly terrible 200-year relationship with seduction, and his less terrible relationship with Tav.

A Crimson Night (18,000 words) - What if Astarion's quest involved an uncomfortable proposition at a masquerade? A Ren'py visual novel with BG3 mechanics and extensive player choice.

The Jayvik Cycle (Arcane)

City of Sunlight (10,000 words) - Vignettes about classism, alienation, and Viktor adjusting to life in Piltover.

Bad Machinery (27,000 words) - An AU where Viktor never left the undercity, but he found Jayce anyway.

Burning Paper Curses (26,000 words) - Viktor's exile after the Council bombing, and the birth of a fake-enemies relationship with Jayce.

Blood and Blue Diamonds (73,000 words) - A detective!Jayce love letter to '30s Los Angeles noir.

City Slang (14,000 words) - Viktor has a terrible night in the undercity, but it's the push he needs to confess some feelings to himself.

To Gold and Redwoods (4,000 words) - A marshal!Jayce and outlaw!Viktor classic western AU.

Love and Demolition (Danger Days)

Better Living Through Anarchy (35,000 words) - Fun Ghoul is a captured zonerunner. Gerard Way is a Battery City TV showrunner. A Killjoys origin story.

Graffiti Tarot (50,000 words) - The Fab Four live... but Ghoul's in prison, Poison's in a coma, Kobra's a brainwashed killer, and Jet's raising a magical girl. A post-SING AU.

The Ship Is Isaac/Misery (Dead Space)

Apostles to the Dead (5,000 words) - EarthGov kept videos of what it did to Isaac on Titan. Ellie finds them. Set during Dead Space 3.

Vacuum Lullaby (11,000 words) - Liz Cross lives in the DS remake. After Aegis VII, she and Isaac try to patch each other up.

Miscellaneous

Ant Farming For Beginners (6,000 words, Doom Patrol) - Larry Trainor's time in the Ant Farm, leaning hard on the fourth wall.

Simulacron-12 Is Smooth Again (4,000 words, Blade Runner 2049) - K is under Niander Wallace's control. Reality is breaking down. On a couple layers of existence, Joi does what she can to help.

A Kindness of Dreams (4,000 words, Darkest Dungeon) - Before the hamlet, Baldwin comforts Sarmenti in the tyrant's court.

#hurt/comfort #whump #arcane #jayvik #danger days #dead space #astarion #new pinned post who dis

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo Queer Cinema Syllabus

Not to sound repetitive but, I had a busy couple weeks, but finally had a second to return to @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus. I am currently working my way through Unit 4: Heartbreak Alley, the totally light-hearted, definitely not agonizing section of the syllabus where I get to watch countless acts of violence be committed against queer people. Thank fuck I have Lesbians waiting for me at the end of this unit. The films in Unit 4 are: Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004), Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986), Philadelphia (1993), The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffery (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995).

Today I will be talking about

Parting Glances (1986) dir. Bill Sherwood

[Run Time: 1:30, Available: tubi and fubo, Language: English]

Summary: As Michael and Robert, a gay couple in New York, prepare for Robert's departure for a two-year work assignment in Africa, Michael must face Robert's true motives for leaving while dealing with their circle of eccentric friends, including Nick, who is living with AIDS.

Cast: 

John Bolger as Robert

Richard Ganoung as Michael 

Steve Buscemi as Nick 

__

Well, I have to say this was very much not what I was expecting for the first AIDS related movie of the syllabus. After some pretty hefty violent deaths of queer characters in the first half of Unit 4, I was very much anticipating the heart wrenching tragedies to continue immediately once I hit the AIDS epidemic portion. But Parting Glances very much subverted my expectations of what I was walking in to, because honestly…so much of it was lovely. 

It’s not that tragedy is not a part of this movie, it is, it’s just hidden under the layer of friendship, community, and love that feels like the core theme of the film. I am thinking about the party at Joan’s and how much happiness and celebration was happening there, with community abound, and yet how Michael kept telling people they should call Nick because he would appreciate it, showing just how much Nick has lost of his own community since his HIV/AIDS diagnosis. 

I really loved how real these relationships to one another felt, the way that Michael and Robert were playful with each other, the way that Nick sat on Michael’s lap so casually for a few minutes when Michael cooked him dinner, I loved the conversation Robert had with his ex-girlfriend, the young and hopeful queer boy who wished to live forever. I just loved watching the queer community be a queer community. 

Even in the moments that get a little dour, where Michael gets especially weepy with Nick, those scenes did not make me sad, did not destroy me the way other films in this syllabus have, because that is just grief. Grief is a mighty and terrible thing, but I find beauty in it as well. I find beauty and loveliness in the fact that those tears came from Michael finally admitting to Nick that he loved him, that Nick got to hear himself that he was loved, especially when so many people seemed to have fallen away from him after his diagnosis. I find comfort in the conversations about death that Michael and Joan have together, because those are conversations I’ve had, they feel familiar, they feel like a natural part of life, perhaps they should not have to feel those points so soon, but Nick himself is right, living forever is the only thing none of us can do. 

I really loved that we saw Nick when he was at a stage in his illness where he was simply being careful, but was still full of life, energetic, that he was able to be a support system for Michael and was not only being tended to. We know what is coming, but we are not made to see it. I was really in to what the film did with it’s use of ominous backing track, that Nick could hear it, that it felt like the progression of his illness, that it felt like a sense of impending doom, a cloud that hangs over Nick. 

Throughout a lot of this film I found myself thinking about The Inheritance Part One & Part Two, a play written in 2016 based off of the book Howard’s End by EM Forster. I saw this play a few years back and was lulled in to a false sense of security that this would not be a play about AIDS because it was set in the relatively modern day with a focus on younger queer characters, but ohhhhhhh how wrong I was. Towards the end of the first part, we hear a story from a character named Walter, an older gay man that lived in the same building as the main characters, and he recounts the story of his life, how his husband, Henry, built a farm outside of New York city for the two of them to live in…right around the time that AIDS started decimating the area. How that distance still was not good enough for Henry so he would leave on business trips, because his fear of catching AIDS was so strong. 

Walter tells the story of when he went back in to the city for the first time, and ran in to a friend he used to know, who had acquired AIDS and was on the brink of death. He talks about how when Henry was away, he brought that kid to the farm Henry had built to hide from AIDS, and Walter cared for that boy until he died. Walter talks about doing that again and again and again and again, dozens of times, he would go in to the city, bring a friend back home, and care for them until they passed. 

^[sidebar: I very much do not like Robert]

Part of the play ends with Walter being asked what it was like at that time, Walter asks the main characters to name someone they know, they give a name, he says “they’re dead. Give me another name, he’s dead”. For what felt like minutes, name after name after name is called and name after name after name is dead. When I saw that scene I broke down in the theater, I cried for the entirety of the walk back to the train station, I was brought to the brink of tears at the thought of that scene for a month after I saw the show. 

I mention this because it was all that I could think about while watching Robert and Michael interact with one another, while seeing this plot unfold. Robert fleeing New York while Michael stayed to care for his dying friend. Knowing that Walter and Henry stayed together after all was said and done, after Henry had stopped running from reality, and the death rates had slowed; then seeing Robert decide not to go to Africa, and how Michael did not show any signs of planning to break up with Robert knowing, despite knowing how Robert felt too settled, how Robert had chosen to go, despite knowing that Robert was running from loss, and running from being a support for Michael when the love of his life finally dies. 

So despite the fact that Parting Glances didn’t evoke the same feelings, though I felt like overall it was a relatively upbeat, uptempo, gentle film, the current underneath it all, the dying underneath it all, the tragedy is right there but it is just out of reach. 

Favorite Scene 

I think my favorite scene is when Joan and Michael are laying in bed together, holding stuffed animals at Robert’s going away party while they just casually talk about death and dying. It just felt very much like a conversation I have had with my best friend on multiple occasions, especially lately because we've had a number of deaths happen in our lives recently. And yes, my friend and I both match the type of conversation part this scene, and also the beating each other up with stuffed animals part of this scene.

Obviously we do not spend enough time with the other characters at the party to know exactly what is going on in their lives, and there is not doubt many if not all of them have lost loved ones to AIDS, but we know that Joan and Michael are really the only two people who go and visit Nick, and it feels so symbolic of the weight that they are shouldering caring for their dying friend to have the only two people who have not cut themselves off from Nick be sitting together, in another room away from all the other gay attendees, discussing, speculating, joking about death. 

Favorite Quote

We all know the real right answer is: “Straight men are jerks. Gay men are jerks. Straight women are jerks. That leaves lesbians and they are off in their ivory towers laughing their heads off at the rest of us. I should’ve been a dyke” 

But I am going to go for the more serious:

“...look at the others, waiting, wondering if some innocent moment of pleasure long past can set them up with the ultimate form of [German word my subtitles did not state]...  I’d like to stage a piece in which all of the performers are people who are terminally ill, can you imagine the intensity, the concentration, the purpose”

This is said off-handedly in a conversation between Joan and a heterosexual male artist who was attending the party. I put it here for two reasons: a) the first half is a very succinct commentary on the state of the queer community (at least who were at the party) and feels like general commentary about the movie’s premise as a whole. Especially because Nick talks about how he didn’t realize how long the gestation period of HIV was, and by the time he started taking protective measures it was already too late. b) because the second half is just the most pretentious, absolutely mindless, careless, and shitty thing to say to someone who is actively losing a friend to a terminal illness. This fucking hetero artist came in to a room full of queer people and decided that dying people would be great to put in to his next project for ~The Vibes~ and I love that comment so much because first, it shows how much he Does Not Get It, and second because of how much disgust is baked in to Joan’s “Excuse me” as she leaves before he can finish his thought. 

Because to say that to someone who is watching loved one after loved one after loved one die before their eyes is an absolutely disgusting thing to do (in my opinion). 

Final Score

8/10

Up next, Philadelphia (1993)

#bengiyo queer cinema syllabus #queer cinema syllabus #parting glances #parting glances the movie #parting glances (1986) #unit 4: heartbreak alley

[fruitchouli]

Isabelle Adjani on Perfume

Her first emotional experience

"I am certainly not the only one to be bewitched by the famous N°5 by Chanel, which must have marked a whole generation of girls. It has such a strength that it has made me aware of scents for life, and it is certainly thanks to it that I can't go a day without wearing perfume. It is also and especially the perfume of my mother... The one who wears it becomes a little bit my mother, that is to say! As a little girl, I was forbidden to touch it, and before I dared to wear it myself, I got drunk on Cristalle and N°19, such pretty young girl perfumes! Now I sometimes wear N°5 when I miss my mother... "

Her memory box

"Like Marilyn's beloved elixir, Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue is another magical fragrance. I was 17 years old and making my theater debut at the Comédie-Française. I liked fine boutiques, so with my first money I went to Guerlain, at 68, avenue des Champs-Elysées, their mythical address. I remember first trying Vol de Nuit and Mitsouko, then Après l'Ondée (of which I kept a bottle) to adopt L'Heure Bleue. I wore it to play a few years later in L'histoire d'Adèle H. by François Truffaut. It followed me, it is a sensor of "moments" and a source of memories. It symbolizes my roles in the theater and is essential for my films in costume. It is a perfume that I rediscover all the time, I fall in love with it each time, without any feeling of use or wear, it is an absolute for me.

Her adrenaline triggers

"Between the ages of 25 and 30, I discovered Passion and Heure Exquise by Annick Goutal. By always wearing them together, without separating them, a crazy alchemy occurs, it is the love equation par excellence. Each time, it's amazing and ecstatic, as if I hadn't been looking for them but they had found me. It's amazing that fragrances like this exist and overwhelm me every time."

Her other self

"Aromatics Elixir by Clinique: I smelled it one day on a friend and it was a shock, something crazy, intimate and irrational. I like it when it's strong, it doesn't scare me. A bit like Tom Ford's Jardin Noir collection, right now it's Café Rose, a singular statement to the Damask rose, captured in its black-clad bottle. I wear them when I want to surprise myself, to have that feeling of an unusual other self. It's as powerful for me as changing my haircut."

Her eternal obsession

"Since I was a teenager, I have been fascinated by Eau Sauvage by Dior, my father's perfume. Although it is impossible for me to wear it, I have several secret weapons that bring me back to him, such as Escale à Portofino, still by Dior, Eaux 1, 2 and 3 by Sisley, and the very successful Jardins du Sud by Fouquet's. Some smells act on me like spells and confuse me without me being able to explain it. Whoever wears Dior Homme, for example, is bound to be irresistible!"

Her troublemakers

"I love layering scents. There was a time when I would stop by Comptoir Sud Pacifique and mix currant and vanilla, cocoa and grapefruit... I think I contributed to their inspiration! For the same reason, I have a thing for Jo Malone who has reinvented the art of combination. I am a fan of Blue Agava & Cacao and Jasmine & Mint. I love that incongruous side of the mix, I love that people are a little confused about how I perfume myself and wonder what I'm wearing."

Her mystical trips

"I had a long period of Angel by Thierry Mugler, an incredible fragrance where sugar was treated in a new way, and another under the seal of Serge Lutens, especially for his Daim Blond and his Rahät Loukoum, a concentrate of sweetness. His creations intoxicated me, they are like mystical ointments that come from afar. I often go to Jovoy, a store where everything makes me dream, and I found Misiones de Fueguia 1833. Beyond the incense scent that I look for everywhere, there is the refined bottle, the wooden box... A pleasure found for more than ten years at Frédéric Malle, I have a soft spot for his Lipstick Rose, a delicious interpretation of the powdery smell of a lipstick.

Her recent conquests

"I wear my perfumes in cycles but I keep them all in very strong cases where nothing breaks, I don't throw anything away. Always on the lookout for a new olfactory coup de foudre, I'm like a little girl in the luxury boutiques. In the duty free shops, I try absolutely everything I don't know on my skin and when I get on the plane, it's all over! I read all the articles on perfumes and I do some scouting. I recognize myself in the world of Terry de Gunzburg and particularly in his Ombre Mercure, but also in Diptyque's Eau Duelle which echoes my preferences. I don't understand women who don't wear perfume, it's impossible for me and it depresses me for them!"

[saltchipfishshop]

Vegan Passover Pecan-Banoffee Pie: my magnum opus

I set out with a dream. An impossible dream. To create a vegan dessert for my synagogue seder that was also kitniyot-free. Did I have to do this? Not really, my shul allows anything vegan, vegetarian or pescatarian that doesn’t have chametz, and we have a section for kitniyot. Am I vegan? No. Do I even keep kosher for Passover myself? Also no. But, you see, I have an almost pathological need to feed as many people as possible, and I am intractably stubborn, so once I realised how difficult this was going to be it only made me dig my heels in further.

It turns out to be borderline impossible to find vegan substitutes for pretty much anything that don’t contain soy, oats, cornflour, chickpeas, or some sort of forbidden legume. Subsequently this recipe is heavily reliant on coconut milk; luckily for me I live in an area with a large Muslim population and it’s currently Ramadan, so tins of coconut are front and centre of every supermarket display.

It’s taken almost a full month of trial, error and meltdowns in the butter aisle of Sainsbury’s, but I finally did it. I had to cobble bits of the recipe together from half a dozen different sources, so I feel relatively justified in calling this my own invention. The pecan crust is borrowed from a Tori Avey cheesecake recipe, I just swapped pistachios for pecans. I really think the crust is what makes it, to be honest. You could probably skip the ganache layer if you can’t be bothered, I just feel like it helps cut through the sweetness.

Recipe under the cut. Please please tag me if anyone decides to make this! I would be so delighted to see it out there in the world.

Crust

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

60g (½ cup) matzo meal

66g (⅓ cup) granulated sugar

71g (5 tbsp) Kosher for Passover vegan margarine (Rakusen’s Tomor*), melted, + extra for greasing

Pinch of salt (optional)

Ganache

113g KFP vegan dark chocolate (Lindt Excellence 70%, Green & Black’s 70%, Green & Black’s cooking chocolate are all KFP)

113g coconut cream/full-fat coconut milk

A few drops of vanilla extract (optional)

Caramel

200g caster sugar

100g KFP vegan margarine (Tomor)

200g coconut cream/full-fat coconut milk

Whipped cream

200g coconut cream/full fat coconut milk, kept in the fridge overnight

15-45g KFP icing sugar (check it doesn’t contain maize starch. You could probably omit the sugar and leave the cream unsweetened if you can’t find it, or grind your own- there are recipes for Passover powdered sugar online.)

¼ tsp vanilla extract

3-4 bananas

cocoa powder or grated chocolate to serve (optional)

chopped pecans to serve (optional)

Method

Make the caramel. Place the sugar into a medium / large saucepan. Place the pan on the hob over a low heat. Allow the sugar to melt, this will take around 5-8 minutes. Don’t burn the sugar! Make sure to stir constantly to prevent burning. You can use a wooden spoon or heat proof spatula.

When all of the sugar has melted and is a golden / amber colour, add in the margarine. Be careful, as the sugar is very hot. Remove the pan from the heat and stir to combine. Allow the margarine to melt into the sugar. It might bubble but that's fine. Once it’s combined, it might have a thick consistency. It might look like the margarine isn’t mixing with the sugar, but it should combine once you add the cream. Now add in 200g coconut cream. It will steam and bubble again so be careful.

Add the pan on the heat and allow to simmer for 3-5 minutes to help thicken it up.

Remove the pan from the heat. Set aside to cool for 30 minutes, then transfer / pour the caramel into a heat proof jar. Place the jar into the fridge. Allow to chill overnight. The coconut cream for the whipped cream should also be kept in the fridge overnight, to encourage it to separate and firm up.

If the caramel separates overnight, use an electric whisk to combine into a smooth consistency until there are no remaining lumps. It’ll be a more custard-like texture but still delicious. Keep caramel in the fridge until needed.

Make the crust. Preheat oven to 180˚C. Grease a loose-bottomed tin with margarine and line with greaseproof paper.

Blitz the pecans in the food processor until finely processed. Add matzo meal, salt and sugar and pulse until the entire crust is uniform in colour. With the processor on, drizzle the melted butter into the machine.

Once all the butter has been added, turn the processor off and dump the wet crumbs into the bottom of the lined pan. Using the back of a spoon, press the crumbs evenly into the bottom and up the sides of the pan (it doesn’t have to go all the way up, just as much as you can).

Place the crust in the oven for 8-10 minutes, or until the edges of the crust start to brown a bit and smells fragrant. Leave crust to cool for about ten minutes and then transfer to the fridge to finish cooling.

Make the ganache. Finely chop the chocolate and put in a medium-sized bowl. Put 200g coconut cream in a microwave-safe bowl and heat in the microwave for about 1 minute, watching to make sure it doesn’t bubble over.

Pour the warm cream over the chocolate chips and let sit for 2-3 minutes. Don't stir yet.

After 2-3 minutes, whisk the chocolate/melted coconut milk until smooth. Add vanilla if desired. Let cool in the fridge for around 30 minutes.

Make the whipped coconut cream. Chill a mixing bowl in the fridge for ten minutes (you can do this while the ganache is cooling to save time). Put 200g coconut cream (the thick white part, not the clear liquid) in the chilled bowl. Beat for 30 seconds with an electric whisk until creamy. Add vanilla and icing sugar and mix until creamy and smooth – about 1 minute. Avoid overwhipping because it can cause separation. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed.

Carefully run a knife around the edge of the crust tin and remove the crust from the tin.

Spread a layer of the cooled ganache over the bottom of the crust. Top with a layer of sliced banana and return to the fridge to set for ten minutes.

Add a layer of the caramel, another layer of sliced banana, and return to the fridge for ten minutes again.

Top with the whipped cream (I like to leave the edge of the bananas visible around the edge). Dust with cocoa powder or grated chocolate and add chopped pecans if desired.

*Tomor contains sunflower oil, but sunflower oil is not considered kitniyot in England: https://www.kosher.org.uk/article/sunflower-oil-kitniyot

#Passover recipe #pesach 5783 #pesach 2023 #pesach recipe #passover #Passover 5783 #Passover 2023 #Passover food #pesach food #פסח 5783 #פסח #פסח שמח #jumblr #judaism #jewish #jewish food #kosher #kosher food #kashrut

[psychologicalwarclaire]

Donnie and no. 30

:]

Donnie + Dangerous Temperatures

Donnie hadn't kept his eye on the dark clouds on the horizon, like he'd promised Raph. Donnie hadn't remembered to bring a coat, like he'd promised Leo. And Donnie didn't 'get home soon' like he'd promised Mikey.

The first flakes of snow drifted down right in front of his nose, landing on the heap of junk he was currently perched on.

"Shoot," he cursed. Glancing up, he saw that the clouds above the electric lights if Repo's yard were much too dark for five o'clock, even at this time of year.

A sudden gust of wind whistled through the mountains of scrap. Donnie's feet-- already rather numb from being without shoes in November-- slid out from under him.

Fortunately, he didn't fall far.

Unfortunately, something caught his fall.

Donnie's legs punched through a precariously placed sheet of metal. Reduced though the feeling was, he could still feel shards of metal tearing up his calves. He couldn't stop the scream that leapt from his throat. It echoed through the silent scap yard.

The only thing that moved was the thickening deluge of snow.

Okay... he thought, quelling his panic. This is fine... I just need to-- need to--

Until another gust ripped through the yard. Donnie's only warning was a creak, the screech of metal on metal, and a sudden shadow on the dull sheet around his legs.

Pops of color exploded in front of his eyes as pain did likewise upon his cranium.

Everything

went

dark

----

The first thing he noticed was a distant rattling sound.

The next thing that he noticed was the cold pressure, soaking into his bones.

The last thing he noticed was the pain.

As soon as Donnie became aware of these things, they all increased tenfold. He cracked his eyes open.

The rattling came from himself. His jaw was sore from chattering. Donnie shivered intensely enough that the metal sheet he was slumped over practically vibrated. Metal sheet...

Ah yes. The one trapping his legs. Come to think of it, they hurt quite a lot. As did his head. He tried to sit up.

He couldn't.

Donnie's cheek and hands were stuck to the metal. Of course. Why not. Frozen in place.

A layer of snow covered the rest of him, maybe a few inches thick. Raph said the storm coming was supposed to drop a few feet. And by the looks of it, the blizzard would only worsen. If Donnie didn't move he would be buried.

With immense pain and immediate regret, Donnie tugged his face off the metal. The whipping snow stung what was surely torn skin. His hands came off more easily. Not because they were less frozen or less painful, but because they were almost entirely numb.

Tearing his legs from the metal was agony. The snow around him was immediately stained with deepening crimson.

Numb yet still wracked with pain, Donnie toppled down the rest of the pile, crashing all the way. The snow already drifting at the bottom did nothing to cushion him.

Donnie moaned, shivering so much he couldn't even see straight. Finally free, fear settled over him like the snow. There was no way he could walk back to the Lair. And with visibility of about ten feet and unknown wind speeds, flying with his battleshell was entirely out of the question.

But there was frostbite. And hypothermia. And likely a concussion. And the possibility of bleeding out.

Donnie was dead either way.

The thought hit him so hard he would have sat down had he not already been sprawled on the ground. He legitimately might freeze to death.

He needed to find shelter... or... or something...um... where was he...?

Distantly, he registered that confusion was a symptom of hypothermia.

Oh. Oh no.

I'll be a purple popsicle by the time my brothers find me...

Donnie began to chuckle. Desperation, terror, and probably hysterica bubbled out of him in laughter. And he couldn't stop, gasping and choking on his mad cackles. The next thing he knew he was sobbing. Howling lost to the wind, but crying all the while.

He sobbed again. The tears were blissfully warm on his cheeks.

Donnie curled up into the tightest ball he could. He couldn't keep his eyes open.

As the weight of snow piled up on top of him, he could almost hear someone calling his name in the distance.

He thought he saw a blue figure sprinting his way.

And he fell into icy darkness.

#hehe thank you for asking me my dear dear Pixel #i had a lot of fun with this one #i might write another part to it or something #having lots of fun even if I'm not getting to every ask #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic #cookie crumbs #my writing #ask game #angst

[minhosblr]

hello! i hope ur day is going well! im not really sure how to word this but ur one of my favorite gifmakers on this site!! and i was wondering if u have any tutorial or would be willing to tell how!! do u make ur gifs so sharp! along w being so smooth and gorgeous im foremost always just stumped at how beautifully sharp ur gifs r!! not to mention the coloring!! regardless of if u get to answer any part of ur process or not, i just wanted to tell you ur gifs r very very beautiful. im always so awed and admiring wnv i see them! so warm and prettily colored yet so sharp!! apologies for gushing here, pls have a good day!!!

AHHH THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY, ANON! It always makes me so happy, when I get any kind of compliments on my gifs, so this really really really warms my heart!! ♥

I did a gif tutorial like 1,5 years ago which you can find here! My sharpening has changed slightly from back then, so I'll just tell you what I do now.

Much more detail under the cut (this got way longer and detailed than I had expected)!

This is a walk through of my sharpening/effect process, so if you want any tricks about colouring or anything let me know!

The first important step to sharp gifs is the video quality! The higher the video quality is, the prettier and sharper your gifs will be. TS files are the highest quality (most of the time, sometimes they kind of scam you ngl) files you can get. Else 4k videos are great too! For me I usually don't go under 1080p (with few 720p exceptions). Sometimes I don't really like TS files, because they're a bit too sharp for me. This is mostly if it's a variety show. Concerts tend to be not as sharp in my experience.

I use vapoursynth to resize my gifs before putting them in photoshop. I usually don't do any sharpening or denoise in vapoursynth. This site has everything you need for vapoursynth!

For sharpening and stuff in photoshop, I usually do camera raw + topaz denoise + sharpening + 1% blur at 30% oppacity.

A bonus tip is, if you've done everything and tried soooo hard to make it non-grainy, but you just can't get it to do whatever you want it to... embrace the grain and add a noise layer! I do this with big gifs (540x540) usually.

To go more in depth, my settings for those are as following...

Camera raw

Texture (tekstur) I usually go between 20 and 30, depending on the thing I'm giffing. For Clarity (klarhed) I do the same number as texture, but minus 10. Idk why, it's just how I usually roll!

For Topaz denoise I usually only use a little bit. Like 0.04-0.06 overall strength. I don't really have any "this is what I always do" settings, but usually my shadow is at 0.90 and my highlight is 0.48 (because I liked it one time and then just kept it). You can also use the denoise option in vapoursynth, I just prefer photoshop, because it feels like I have more control over it. I know a lot of people don't use denoise at all, but I usually do with files less than 4k quality!

OBS! Using topaz denoise on smart objects in photoshop is a bit tricky, but I made a video about it once, so here you go! (the video is kind of outdated for me, so ignore the sharpening part and focus on the "how to do after you've put denoise on your gif" part. Also ignore my voice, thank you).

Sharpening:

These are my settings for sharpening. If I think the gif is a bit too sharp after I've added a blur filter, I change the amount (mængde, sorry my ps is in Danish) to 80% and that usually does the trick!

If you use all of these, this is how the smart object will look, before you convert it into frames

Let me know if you have any other questions or anything at all!! ♥

#ask #answered #anon #tutorial #kind of #I've kind of considered doing a “maja's tricks and tips for colouring and other stuff with gifs” post so let me know if that has any intere #i answered this as soon as i got home cause I got excited that someone was asking me for tips ♥

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 41. brb x oc

a/n: BOY did i just made shit up in this chapter. hey, listen we don't know a lot about carole,goose and rooster's backstories....and I can't just have a character be flat. I M TRYING OK

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, mildly suggestive content, Rooster is a teasing demon and I have proof

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 

@lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny 

-

He had to remove more boxes from the upper compartment in his closet, Beatrice standing next to him with her head tilted up as he pulled out a long closed box with the writing ‘treasures’ in thick black copic marker, “Found them.” he huffs, setting it on the bed before he shoved the rest of the boxes back inside, “The box is a bit dusty though..”

Beatrice gently ran her hand over the top flaps, wiping the thin layer of dust carefully so it wouldn’t land on his sheets nor on his floor, throwing it on the trash can close to his desk. She looked up at him, smiling when he settled himself cross legged on the bed and she pulled herself closer to his seated form. Rooster’s hands were on the edges of the box, rubbing his thumb pads against the flaps, almost opening it but not doing so. Beatrice lowers her eyebrows, touching his shoulder, “Brad? Do you need a moment?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, his jaw clenching, “I haven’t seen these…in a long time.” he mutters, tapping his fingers in an unknown rhythm against the cardboard as he looks down at the box. “My mom kept a lot of things in here.” he explains, “Not only photo albums.”

Beatrice scoots closer, keeping her healing ankle out of the bed and tucking her good leg under the other limb, “There must be a lot of memories here.” she whispered, rubbing his forearm then the back of his hand, “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”

“No, no I want to. It’s just…” he narrows his eyes, chuckling tiredly, shaking his head, “I don’t know, I have seen some of the stuff  in here before. I know what they are. I don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

Her heart hurt seeing him like that, he looked so nervous and worried, Beatrice bit her lower lip looking down at the cardboard box then back at him, “...I haven’t opened my nonna’s music box ever since she passed.” he turns his gaze towards her, “I loved that music box, it was like stepping in another world, I loved watching the little ballerina spin and the tinkling of the song being played…but after she passed it felt…wrong to open it. I tried many times over the years but I never gathered enough courage. Because I miss her so much and I know that if I do that, I’ll remember she’s no longer here.”

Bradley’s eyes dropped from his girlfriend to the cardboard box, he doesn't know how she does that, how she hits the nail on the head when it comes to his own struggles without him saying anything. He laughs softly, licking his lips, “...yeah, I get that.” he whispers then clears his throat, breathing in enough courage to open the flaps. Slowly revealing that much like before, everything was stacked up to the brim.

There was so much stuff in there. How did his mother even do this? Everything was nudged and positioned in angles that nothing would pop out if the box was opened. The albums were in the middle, several tiny boxes were lodged on the sides and right on the bent of the box was a tiny, scuffed, blue bear. “Oh, wow.” he chuckles, “I can’t believe it.” he reaches for the bear, gently pulling it out of the box. It was much lighter than he remembered, smaller too, the stuffing in some parts of it’s body were thinner than the others making the limbs a bit floppy.

Beatrice looks at the little bear with black beady eyes and the frail red satin bow tie with a little smile, “It’s so cute.” she says, gently touching one of the little arms and feeling the soft curly fur touch her thumb, “Was it yours?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “It used to be inside my crib when I was a baby.” Bradley holds the tiny bear like it’s precious, with both hands and brings it to his nose, “It still smells like baby powder.” it looks rough, obviously it’s been thirty six years since he actually held it in his hands, it was much lighter and thinner than when he was younger, “I thought I lost it, I think my mom kept it hidden all this time.”

Beatrice couldn’t help but smile when he hands it over to her, still rummaging through the box to check the inside, she places the tiny bear on her lap after bringing it to her nose just like he did. Bradley grabs the three photo albums from the inside, placing it to his left on the bed so he has a clear view of what was left. He pulls out some of the smaller boxes, popping the lids open and pulling out a baby onesie with a tiny plane sewn on the chest, close to the buttons, “Oh my God, it’s so cute.” she says, gently grabbing it from his hand to hold in front of her eyes, “You were a big baby, Brad.”

“I sure was.” he chuckles. “But according to my mom I was a quick baby, got in the hospital and thirty minutes later I was born.” there’s more baby stuff in the other boxes, shoes, a few more toys which included a plane. He looked down at the jet plane with his eyes low and his smile minimal, turning it in his hands, “My dad gave me this one.”

“It’s really nice.”

“I took care of it with my life. I didn’t even play a lot with it.” he smiles, gingerly placing it back in the box clearing his throat when he feels the known itch on the back, deciding to check whatever was inside the box. There were some books, a few papers, one of his mother’s favorite scarves folded in the corner and a jewelry box that kept very few of his mother’s jewels. 

Since there weren’t a lot of other things left, he grabbed the albums and placed them on his crossed legs. The first one was a minty blue colored one with the writing ‘Baby’s Album’ on the cover and a little angel looking up at the viewer “Your baby pictures.” she says sweetly, “Can we see it?”

Rooster chuckles, arching his eyebrow at her little smile, dropping his eyes to see the little bear’s ear being stroked by her thumb and forefinger, “I don’t know baby, I’d probably embarrass myself.” but he was joking, he wouldn’t mind showing some pictures to her. There were more than one album that had pictures of him, but he knew this one was specifically when he was still an infant. 

The album’s plastic cover creaked when he opened it, the very first picture was of a scrunched up red face of a baby with thin light colored hair, “Oh, my God.” she covers her mouth to hold back her squeal “Oh my God, look at you! You looked so cute!”

“I look pissed.” he laughs, “I look like I want to be put back inside.”

“Every baby looks angry, Brad.” she says, waiting for him to flip the page where it shows his parents: his mother lying on the hospital bed with the little Bradley burrito tucked against her shoulder and his father right next to her, leaning down to face his newborn son. They look absolutely enamored by their baby, with reason. It’s the first time she’s seen a picture of his mother as well, even if the light wasn’t great and the photograph was a bit orange because of time, she noticed that Bradley’s mother was beautiful. 

He doesn’t stay too long on that picture, she doesn’t blame him, before flipping the page again. The rest of the pictures were of little Brad growing up until he was about four years old, looking absolutely adorable and making Beatrice squeal in pure delight at every single photo, “Okay, it’s done.” he snaps the album closed, “I think I embarrassed myself enough.”

“Well, there are still three more albums.” she smiles, “And you didn’t embarrass yourself, those were such cute pictures Brad! You were such a cute blonde baby!” she couldn’t really help the squirming in her heart upon seeing baby pictures, trying to clear her head and not think too much about it because it was just a random baby fever, nothing more.

“Hey,” he pouts a bit, “Was? I’m not cute anymore?”

Beatrice rolls her eyes, hugging his neck to pull his head closer and kiss his pouty lips, rubbing his cheek as she pulls back, “You still are super cute.” she assures him, making Rooster smirk a little bit and kiss her again, humming happily against her mouth hoping to deepen it but Bea holds him back with a hand on his chest, “Brad.” she gestured to the rest of the albums.

He groans out a sigh, but he’s smiling as he grabs the next album. Most of them have pictures of his parents,him and Mav. Then it turned into him, his mother and Mav, then into him and his mother only. Usually, he wouldn’t have gone so far while looking at these, but Beatrice being next to him while he does definitely helps, she’s a presence that comforts him as he reminisces about parts of his life he genuinely forgot.

The pictures with his father and Mav, especially the one where the three are fishing - well the two of them were, he was too young to hold a fishing rod and was sitting on his father’s lap - tugged at his heart. Over time the pictures with Mav got fewer and fewer, until he was no longer seen as he got older, it was him and his mother. 

He was so angry at Mav for so long, he didn’t know how much he missed him until he saw him again at TOPGUN. He was so furious because he felt lost and he wanted to throw that anger at Pete, he wanted to hurt him like he was hurting. 

He regrets a lot of things, he regrets telling Mav about his father, he still remembers how hurt the older man got when he said his father trusted him. Part of him was elated, yes, yes good, feel the pain I’ve been feeling you deserve to feel it, but the other part of him tried to show how that wasn’t the right thing to do. 

His father wouldn’t want that. He’d never want that. 

Rooster was glad they resolved everything, he was glad that they were back in talking terms and that Pete was the closest thing to a father he’d get now…and he was okay with that. He flipped another page on the album, smiling a little bit when he saw it was his parents’ wedding day and Maverick was right behind his father as one of the groomsmen, clapping with such a proud smile it was infectious.

His parents looked so happy, his mother looked beautiful as always and his father couldn’t look at anyone but at her. It’s the way he looked at Carole with a dreamy smile, and the way his mother looks right back at him. “You know,” Beatrice’s voice snaps him out of it, “You look a lot like both of them. Of course the mustache makes you look a lot like your father, but now that I’ve seen the pictures of you growing up…yeah, you are a perfect mix of both.”

Bradley tilts his head towards her, giving her a small smile, “Yeah?” she nods, looking back down at the wedding picture with him, “How so?”

“You have your father’s facial structure.” she begins, still looking down at the picture, “But I think that, here,” she gestures to her cheek bones, “And here,” then her eyes, “Are very much your mom. Everything else is a huge mix.”

He couldn’t help the smile on his face, his chest exploding with so much love for this woman he questioned if that’s how his father felt with his mom. She was just so sweet. For a second, for a very quick second, a sentence appeared on his head and he felt his whole body shudder before he shook his head, “Thanks babe.” he chuckles, still trying to get rid of the words in his head, “I’ve been told I look like both of them but I guess I never noticed it too much.”

“If it helps, people say I look a lot like my father. Maybe that’s why me and my nonna are so similar too.” she smiles, looking down at the little bear on her lap and bringing it up to her eyes, “You know, my parents kept most of my stuffed toys. They are all back in my old room back at their house…actually I think everyone’s rooms are still the same from when they moved out.” she murmurs, thinking more about it, “We always told them to make the rooms into guest rooms,but, “ she shrugs, “I guess they don't want to.”

Rooster hums, nodding quietly, “Then that means I’ll see them when we go to their Christmas Celebration, huh?”

Beatrice flicked her eyes towards him, her lips curling up in a smile and her cheeks heating up, “Yeah. You’ll also be bombarded by my mother showing you all my baby pictures.” 

“Ooohh, sweet sweet revenge.” he says, leaning closer to her face and smiling when she laughs softly, not meeting his eyes, “I just can’t wait to see how cute you were as a baby. And not in the past tense because you are still the cutest person alive. You’d just be cuter.” he kisses right below her jawline, grinning to himself when she squeals in surprise, turning her head to kiss his lips and cup his face.

Beatrice chuckles, pressing their forehead together, “You are a smooth talker.” she whispers as if she’s telling him a secret.

“Just for you.” he whispered right back, pecking her lips one more time then straightening himself, “Now…” he gestures to the albums and especially at the open one on his legs, “What sort of ideas are we getting?”

Beatrice blinks, looking down at the wedding picture, furrowing her eyebrows while thinking, “Hmmm…I mean, I think we could write something down.” she suggests, leaning back to where her drawing supplies were on the floor, flipping the pages until she found a blank one and clicked her mechanical pencil before writing ‘tattoo ideas!:)’ on the top of the page. 

While she was flipping through the pages to find a clean one, Bradley caught glimpses of more drawings she made and an idea popped into his head, “Bea…” he licks his lips, “Why don’t you design my tattoo?” she snapped her head up so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, looking up at him with wide eyes.

 He gently takes the drawing book from her, flipping the pages back so he sees the several doodles she’s been doin. Some of them were of his apartment, some were of animals, some were Jolene while others were of characters from the TV shows they liked to watch. “Me?” she asks softly, “No, Brad,I can’t!”

“Why, not?” she had no response for that, she just looked at her own hands, “You can draw, you are incredible at it. You could draw something for me.”

“....but…” she looks worried, wringing her hands together, “But…what if it’s not good enough?”

Bradley tsks, looking down at her drawings, especially the ones she made while they watched the latest episode of Peaky Blinders, the face of Tommy Shelby was so well done it was almost like a black and white picture, “It will be. You don’t have to get too realistic with it if you don’t want to, just-” he shrugs, “Let your creativity run free.”

Beatrice looks down at her drawing book, then up at him, chewing her lower lip nervously. She gently grabs the drawing book from his hands again, bringing it to her lap as she looks down at it, shaking the mechanical pencil on her left hand for a few seconds, “...okay…I’ll try.” she says with a small smile, “What um…what sort of things did your parents like?”

He voiced out a list of things, for his mom he said she liked flowers - red roses and lavender the most -, she loved reading, loved to sing and her favorite time of day was the sunset where the oranges and reds would mix like a painting. As for his father he based off the things his mother and Mav told him over the years, he too liked to sing and play the piano obviously, he loved to go fishing, his favorite season was Summer and his favorite Hawaiian shirt was one his mother gave him after their first year together.

Beatrice tapped the mechanical pencil, not drawing anything yet, just pressing the graphite to the paper without moving it. She chewed her lower lip repeatedly, that was such…a request to make. His very first tattoo and he wanted her to design it for him? And it’d represent his parents?? She tried to not show how nervous she was, it was possible she was failing but he hasn’t asked her anything yet.

She was asked to draw stuff for people before, her friends mostly and she never asked to be paid for it, it was actually really fun. But it’s different when your boyfriend wants you to draw something to represent his deceased parents for his very first tattoo. She wanted to do a good job, not only because it was Rooster but because it was special for him.

With a few deep breaths for courage, Beatrice started doodling random things her brain created, some of them weren’t good enough so she quickly erased them as Bradley waited patiently, sometimes he’d try to sneak a peek but Beatrice would lift the book up to her nose so he wouldn’t see anything. He had to admit he was a bit excited, he knows how talented she was - even if she sometimes couldn’t see that - and it just felt right to ask her to do it for him.

It’d have a deeper connection than he ever planned. While she’s busy, he puts some of the stuff back inside the box, smiling when he picks up the jet plane…he decided he’d leave it out. He liked that toy a lot and, well, his apartment wasn’t decorated a lot so why not use one of his favorite toys as a piece of decor? At least in his room. He sets it aside, putting the albums back inside as well and only looking back when Beatrice announces she’s done, holding the drawing book close to her chest with her lip still being chewed on, “Promise me that if you don’t like any, you will ask Taboo to draw it for you.”

“I promise.” he chuckles, grabbing the teal colored drawing book with both hands to hold on top of his lap. His silence made Bea even more anxious, the blue bear still on her lap was the chosen one to let out her worries, squeezing the plush toy with both of her hands but not tight enough that’d rip the already frail fabric that kept it together. Bradley parts his mouth to speak, but then he doesn’t, instead he brings his hand to his lower jaw to support his head as he looks down at the drawings.

Beatrice questions if she should ask him about what he’s thinking, did he like it? Did he not? Was he figuring out how to break the news to her that he didn’t like any of the drawings she made? She did draw them quite quickly, so maybe that’s why. Yes, that’s obviously why he’s quiet. His name barely leaves her lips before he finally speaks up, “Bea…I– holy shit.” he says weakly, “...I don’t even know which one to choose.”

Oh.

She blinks in surprise, releasing the little bear in her grasp as she looks at the sandy haired pilot who now had a small smile on his lips. Her heart feels a bit lighter seeing his lips curl up like that, but she’s still a bit worried, “...well…I-I did try…”

“You did great.” he assured her, sending her a sweet look with his eyes glazed over. He clears his throat, putting on a brave face as he tries to not get choked up as he moves his eyes all over the drawings. He loved all of them, but his gaze kept returning to the one in the corner which was a Canadian Goose flying in front of a circle that went from red to orange then yellow and if you looked at the right angle you’d notice it had a rose mixed within the colors. It was subtle, but it was there.

It wasn’t exactly small, but he preferred this one over the others. He asked her to draw something and she did. She did wonderfully too.

“I like this one.” he says after a few minutes, pointing to the Canadian Goose flying on the rose sunset. Honestly she drew that without thinking much, it was a bit wonky and the colors weren’t as bright because she thought he’d choose a different one, one of the smaller ones that she had done.

“This one?” she had to make sure she was seeing right “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s perfect.” Bradley says with a smile, looking at it like it was one of the most precious things he’s had ever seen, “It’s bigger than I had planned but…” he looked down at his leg, tugging his sweatpants up to expose his calves “I could do it on my leg.” he turns his calf back and forth “How long do you think it’d take?”

“Oh um…I’m not sure, do you want the colors and everything?” she doesn’t know why she’s asking, it’s obvious he does, but Bradley nods either way, “Maybe four hours? Taboo is pretty fast and she loves details like these,” she says pointing to the feathers she drew.

Bradley never had a tattoo done, but he knew they’d sometimes take a while to be done and this one was going to be detailed and colored. “...alright, sounds good. Do you think you can message her? See if we can schedule?”

She blinks, still shocked by everything that happened in the amount of time they’ve been there, but nods dumbfounded. She reaches for her phone on the nightstand, opening her contacts to send Taboo a message. Meanwhile, Bradley looks down again at his future tattoo, then to Beatrice who was focused on typing on her phone. 

She did this for him. And she did such an amazing job. He couldn’t help the smile on his face, running his fingers over the flying goose then the rose that was camouflaged within the sunset behind it. She managed to do this in minutes, minutes and she was still worried she didn’t do a good job.  “Okay, um,” her voice makes him snap his head up, “She said she has time for you in december, the second weekend of december that is…is that okay for you?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Okay, okay I’ll let her know.” she says quietly, “Let me just.” she grabs the book from his hand to take a picture “Sorry, she wanted to see the drawing and check the size. Do you want it on your calf?” he nods “Okay!Okay, yeah I’ll tell her.”

Bradley’s cheeks flexed when his smile widened, putting the drawing book aside and pushing himself closer to her, almost crawling on top of her as she types. His mouth meets her neck where he presses butterfly kisses to the skin, chuckling to himself when Bea whispers his name in a confused tone, then in a warning tone, “Don’t mind me.” he says once he reaches the curve of her jaw, “Just kissing you.”

“I know, but–”

“Ssshh, don’t mind me.” he repeats, his crawling forced her to lie on the bed so he could be on top, still pressing kisses up and down her neck, her throat and part of her collarbone. Since he’s holding himself up with his arms, he’s not pressing against her as she talks to her tattoo artist, so he can see every time her fingers stall when he kisses right where she likes it and the soft mewl goes past her lips.

He can’t really help himself, not when she’s this amazing woman who snagged his heart like a vice and she was just so perfect and so sweet without her even noticing how much she does for him. Rooster dragged his teeth on the skin underneath her earlobe and Beatrice moaned quietly, “Roos…” she whispers,dropping the phone on her chest, stopping mid sentence to slide her fingers through the sandy colored locks.

Rooster groans softly in reply, paying special attention to that spot with his teeth and tongue. They couldn’t do much until her foot healed properly, but he could give her a taste of what was to come once it did, “Yeah, gorgeous, talk to me.” he mutters on her skin, she could feel that smirk on her neck easily.

“I-I need to focus.” but she does press his face closer to her neck, ignoring her phone completely, “S-So I can ty-type…” there’s an amused laugh on her neck, that comes deep from within his chest, it’s almost devilish when it does vibrate against her skin.

“Oh, of course.” he says after biting her neck one more time, “But you can multitask, can’t you?” Beatrice makes a noise of complaint, “Of course you can, you do it all the time at the bar.”

“Brad…”

He chuckles, pulling back to hover his head above hers, kissing her flushed cheeks and parted lips. She moans into his mouth, gasping out softly when he breaks the lip lock and pulls himself away from her body, “I’m going to put this back inside the closet.” he tells her, leaning down to kiss her clothed thigh “And leave you to it.”

Beatrice narrows her eyes with a frown, “You are cruel.” “Oh yes,” he smirks, balancing the box on his arm after he closes the lid, “I’m the big bad wolf, gorgeous. And I’m going to eat you up as soon as you get better.” the exasperated shout of his name makes him laugh even more, turning his back to her as he faces the closet to shove the box back inside.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

1, 22, and 30!

1: What's something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

I'm going to steal your answer here and say that this was my first go at some pure, self-indulgent fluff. My other (non-stolen) answer is that it was my first successful go at plotting a fic as I went, since The Hedgehog's Dilemma kept unexpectedly expanding and evolving as I wrote. I'm honestly really proud of how the fic turned out and there's not much I would change if I could go back and do it over, but while it's nice to know that I can plot and write at the same time, it's not something I'm likely to do again (at least not on purpose).

22: Share an excerpt from your favourite scene

Posted excerpt from chapter 3 of The Hedgehog's Dilemma:

Somehow, he found himself on the floor of the toilets for the second time in less than a day, wedged against the cool metal of the stall, tears tracing itchy tracks down his cheeks. His throat felt thick and clogged; the tile dug at him hard through the thin material of his shorts. His head ached and so did his stomach, and now his nose was running and when he wiped at his face with his sleeves those were wet, too, and itchy, clinging to his skin, and why the fuck did everyone have to be so loud he could hear them all the way through the walls, footsteps and voices all layered over each other, stabbing into his ears.

Unposted excerpt from chapter 2 of Flightless Birds:

They walked around the block, Roy with one crutch for stability as he inched forward, red-faced and growling under his breath at the glacial pace while Jamie jogged backwards ahead of him, ‘cause he weren’t much good at walking slow. “That’s proper hideous,” Keeley said, squinting at a house across the way. “Beige siding? Eugh.” She shuddered theatrically. “I dunno, it’s got character,” Jamie said, to be contrary. It really was proper hideous, all fake-Greek columns and black shutters and trimmed round hedges. “Draws the eye, like.” He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, honestly, but Keeley said it all the time while she was setting up photoshoots. “Babe, I love you, but you’re ruining my reputation, here! How’s anyone supposed to trust my taste when my favourite acolyte’s going around complimenting that horror?” She danced around Roy to shove him lightly in the shoulder. “Excuse me, I’ve got great taste!” “Yeah, for a fucking toddler,” Roy said. “I’m with Keeley on this one. That’s a fucking monstrosity.” “Ha!” Keeley shouted, arms held up in victory. “Alright, Royo, you choose the next one.”

30: What's something you want to write in 2024?

I have a list of like six or seven projects in my ideas folder, but the ones I'm most looking forward to are Wrong Answers Only (the Ted timeloop fic, because I love timeloops) and Jamie's Autism Crisis, which has expanded in concept to also be my post-season 3 Jamie reconnecting with his dad is a terrible idea, actually fic.

#asks #ask game #fic: the hedgehog's dilemma #fic: flightless birds #series: symbiosis

[new-poets-society]

The Lion is a Doctor

I’m up way past my bedtime

pacing the halls, 

rushing like good blood pressure. 

The house is empty, yet the sound of me echoes in the ears of loved ones

no matter where they lay their heads. 

I understand. It’s hard to tell if blood is spilling or boiling, or pumping, 

But not to worry--

I can trust myself tonight.

Therefore, I have the authority to flamboyantly waltz around my home, 

A place so alive it feels like a friend,

And spend an evening living without wondering who or what I’m killing. 

  I’m headed to the heart of the Lion 

Specifically, his wardrobe. 

The lion is a doctor, 

and the doctor is not in. 

I rummage with delicacy and delight,

Admiring every textile.

I shall wear whichever torn up tee-shirt I desire,

 It is an honor to don the fluffy robes of a king. 

cloaked in soft armor, 

I dance flamboyantly 

in well-worn slippers

I will never fit. 

I feel small in the best way, 

Like a child 

excited to see how much they’ll grow in one year. 

  My mother let me wear her clogs back when I had the smallest of feet. 

They, too, did not fit. 

The space between my toes and the wood only stood to remind me that at any moment those shoes could come off, 

if they didn’t, they’d threaten to for the duration. 

Every step required grip,

 I kept those clogs on my feet with all the bones and toes I had.

It felt free and wicked 

to kick off that hollowness. 

Let the clogs fall where they may.

  Heavy is the head who wears the crown of Tie inspector,

and I take my job seriously.

 I meticulously examine each one,

naturally fragrant with childhood, 

Memories of young, chaotic mornings woven into silk. 

Silky threads made of a fond routine I always found beautiful and complicated. 

The Lion looped the silk swiftly and seamlessly and frequently

he didn't have time to notice the miracle in the minutia.

30 years on I count their silky crests like a four star General.

I need to make sure everyone is still here,

still intact.

  I spend the remainder of the ritual picking through the Lion’s wardrobe, 

mining for colorful cashmere sweaters.

I tried them on in a cautious frenzy,

with zero intent to return them. 

The layer cake of trial and error reminded me of rainy middle school days. 

When it rained the Lion roared and ordered his cubs to put on a sweater, 

a jacket, boots, gloves, and a cowboy hat.

But what about our hair, Dad?

He braided our manes flawlessly under those cowboy hats 

with tact and finesse we could’ve sworn we were Cleopatra, or Joan of Arc.

We were too small for our armor, sure,

But we knew we’d grow into it. 

In those moments, I didn’t drown in the emptiness of the clogs,

(Not unless I put them on).

The Doctor’s armor is heavy,

The heaviness inspired me 

to grow strong enough 

to carry the weight of battle 

with poise

To wield weapons to protect,

to never forget 

all swords are double edged,

and enemy fire and friendly fire are distinguished

only by which side of the frontline you’re on,

and what you’re fighting for.

  The heart of the Lion was big enough for 10 men..

How did he become so vast? 

The lion’s daughter was almost too busy growing herself

to contemplate the Lion as a man. 

What did the Lion have to do in order to become? 

Who did he have to fight to evolve? 

Which kingdom did he defeat 

to claim such vast internal territory? 

What did he have to survive to keep it? 

Vastness of the soul comes at a cost.

 Is he aware? 

Does he feel that way, too? 

Heavy is the head that wears the scrub cap, 

The cowboy hat, 

The tuxedo,

The tie, 

The torn-up tee-shirt, 

The big slippers, 

The robe. 

 Powerful are the hands

that slice and sew strangers just as beautifully as they braid their baby girls’ hair,

that tie ties,

and bows,

and pack lunchboxes, 

and lay out multivitamins like loose diamonds.

Whatever it took to get here was worth it. 

  The unwitnessed waltz of the wild child is sacred when performed correctly. 

It must poignantly convey the whimsy of childhood 

and punctuate one’s distance from it.

 It should be so comforting that you make room to be confounded---

 this is a delicacy in my culture. 

The discomfort is just as delicious as its saccharine counterpart. 

Tonight, I revisit the inkling I intuited while wrapped in rain gear— 

There is so much more to the Lion than I will ever know. 

The slippers are still too big! 

Will I ever know what it feels like to fit?

 Let alone, fit into these slippers? 

To know exactly how they feel? 

  The answer is of course not, And the Lion wouldn’t have it any other way.

 If I am to become a Lion, I have to survive like one. 

I have to fight for my life especially when I don’t want to.

I have to make room for blissful moments only found in the minutia 

or else, let my soul starve.

 If I don’t learn to hunt and gather my dreams

I won’t know what it takes to keep them,

I won’t know how to make the room necessary

to become, 

to begin,

to be a person I’m proud of,

to remain a person I can trust with my life.

  Tonight, I do not have the answers.  

Wouldn’t I like to know, Dad! 

It would be ungodly of me to ask you.

But I will anyways, 

Just so we can talk a little longer. 

God Bless the Lion man and the parts of his journey I will never know. 

Author: Alexandra Wolf

March 2023

www.alliewolf.com 

#spilled ink #poets on tumblr #poetry #new poets society #new poets on tumblr #new poets corner #submission

[suicide-with-dazai]

Cuddling with Dazai.

- Winter morning soft cuddles with Dazai.

stuff i must mention:

fluff

genderless reader

s/o dazai

winter had hit yokohama around a week ago by now, its freezing pretty much everywhere you go. the trees like stitching around the town centre-all left with no leaves and the park covered in snow. the port mafia hq too, almost frozen in place. 

its around 10:30 am when you find yourself waking up to a surprisingly cold room. it hit you, you stayed in dazais room last night instead of signing off duty and returning to your own. 

youd think that dating while in the same mafia agency would cause a problem but life couldnt be better for you, everything in this moment was perfect. waking up in your boyfriends room to a comfy bed and sheets smelling of him. your eyes adjusted to your surroundings and came to your senses. the room was a little.. too.. cold...

“dazai?” you stretched your arm to dazais usual sleeping place, right next to you, and felt around, no sign of him. you struggled and yawned as you sat up and brushed your hair from your eyes. “dazaii ? dazai ?”

adjusting your shirt and underwear you slept in, you arose from your bed and yawned yet again. still getting your eyes adjusted as you were still waking up, you staggered over to the window to shut it. you approached the glossy-white framed windows and balcony doors and reached to shut one of the windows, but as you walked closer, you heard a familiar voice from below, dazai ? whats he doing down there?

you quickened your pace as you became more awake and ran to the other side of the room to grab a large sweater and some slippers. having a brisk look in your shared wardrobe, you saw your favorite of dazais sweaters, that one black one with the long fit and puffy sleeves. you put it on over your head then slipped into some bunny slippers.

back at the other side of the room, you unlocked the balcony doors and stepped out into the thick layer of snow on your balcony. the crunchy sound giving you a weirdly warm feeling. you walked closer to he edge to look over- to find out what your boyfriend was doing down there,, all the way at ground level. you could still hear his voice but couldnt quite spot him, well,, you WERE 20 floors up. 

“y/n !!!” you heard a shout from noone other thant dazai himself, “over here, my love !”

you looked to your right to see him talking with akutagawa about probably business or mafia stuff, you couldnt care less, you were just cold. 

dazai gave a quick smile up to you and wave, then continued speaking to akutagawa. “eh, okay. so what i was thinking was we could attack from all angles because-”

you had enough of being cold already ! so you went back inside and kicked your slippers off and kept the hoodie on but put your arms back inside to skillfully take off everything else underneath. you threw the shirt you slept in on the floor and adjusted the hoodie you had on. the soft material and the scent of dazai made you feel warm. you got back under your covers in nothing but underwear and a hoodie and wrapped yourself up again. you thought about dazai being there with you right now, warming you and cuddling you from behind. waking up without him always kinda crushed you inside, like he didnt even bother to tell you he was leaving and give you a sweet morning kiss on the lips and a tight loving hug as he leaves the bedroom to go out.

you started to drift off back to sleep even though you were so cold you felt like you were going to freeze right then and there. soon, you were fast asleep again, and the bedroom door flung open and dazai walked in and you were none the wiser. 

he shivvered, as he took off his coat and waistcoat, revealing only his white button down and pants. he felt warmed from the core when he saw you, scrunched up in his own white sheets, sleeping peacefully. he decided to hop in behind you and wrap his arms around your chest. you relaxed into his touch and bent your knees so he could be your big spoon in order to keep you warm. he sighed a long and heated breath, onto the back of your neck- slidig his hands up and down your folded legs to create some friction and therefore some heat. 

dazai loved you so much, and always wanted to protect you so he continued on with keeping you warm. he streched his chin out to put it on your shoulder so now, he was completely (or nearly) covering you fully, of course with the thick, white duvet too. you awoke slightly again from your interrupted sleep, but for a good reason. “dazai?” you croaked.

“baby im here, youre freezing” he cuddled you tighter.

“i-i know,” with chattering teeth you murmered, “lets cuddle”

“come here then, love” he moved back to the centre of the bed and gestured for you to accept his embrace, you turned to face him and willingly entered his open arms. you snuggled up to his warm frame and wrapped your arms around his waist, and he hugged you too. you buried your face in the crook of his neck and he placed his chin onto your head, his breathing pattern sending comforting tingles down your body. you wrapped your legs around him too- to keep as warm as possible and he couldnt help but let out a completely satisfied and happy sigh.

you cuddled and slept for about 3 and a half hours and by that time, it was time for your joint mission.

the alarm clock beeps.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

dazai yawned as he awoke, sounding completely and utterly yet simply- happy. you just made him so stupidly happy with everything you did. and he did the same for you.

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

#dazai #dazaiosamu #osamudazai #dazai x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #fluff #dazai fluff #dazai x chūya #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #fluf #slice of life #port mafia #yokohama #bsd atsushi #akutagawa ryuunosuke

[fiction-giga]

She-devil

30 Day Blurb Challenge

blurb prompt list

Day 6 - Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Cursing, name-calling (all playful)

Word Count - 850

The rain was relentless, not letting up for days on end.

You had refused to let Eddie drive as recklessly as he did in this rain. So you ended up driving him to his Hellfire meeting.

When you had dropped him off, the rain had eased up a little.

“Maybe it will stop?” You questioned as you leaned closer to the steering wheel to look up at the gray clouds. Wishful thinking.

Instead of letting up, it started to pour harder than it had all week. It was like monsoon season was sweeping through Hawkins.

You normally would wait for Eddie at Hellfire by killing some time reading at the park. But with this weather, the park was not an option. So you just settled for the Hawkins High parking lot feeling like an 80-year-old grandmother waiting on her 9th grade grandson that had been pumping sugar into their body.

It wasn’t until four hours later did the outline of Eddie and the kids appear outside the door. They just stood there under the awning as they looked up at the sky.

You looked around your backseat until you found the umbrella you always kept in the car. Sure, Eddie and your friends would poke fun at the umbrella, calling it useless and a waste of space. Bet you they aren’t thinking it’s a waste of space now.

You waited until it was just Eddie standing under the thin sheet metal roofing as Dustin and Mike crawled into Steve's backseat. When the time was right you popped open the car door and made a run for it.

“BABY?!”

You squealed when your shoes got soaked when you ran through a pond puddle.

“Why did you get out of the car?!” Eddie yelled at you as your momentum launched you into his arms. He caught you as you giggled into his chest. You wrapped your arms around him to snuggle further into his warmth.

“I missed you. Been waiting in the car for hours.” You shouted up at him over the rain with a smile curling up your lips.

“You’ve been in the parking lot this whole time??” He chuckled at your messy state. Hairs sticking to your forehead as you pant through a smile. Drops of water drip down your skin as your clothes soak through his. "Why didn't you just come in? You could've watched us play."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Dunno. My book was getting good anyway so I didn't mind the peace and quiet."

"You callin' me loud?" He pretended to be offended.

"Of course."

He scoffed as he took the open umbrella from your hands. He held it over your head and with his free hand he gestured to your parked car. "After you, she-devil."

You gasped and held a hand to your chest sarcastically. "And they say chivalry is dead!"

His eyes went dark as you practically saw his lightbulb light up. "Alright!" He ran out into the downpour and held the umbrella over his head. He stood a few yards out but it was far enough out to ensure that you would get soaked. "You lost your privileges!"

"How mature!" You giggled at him.

"Oh, shit, were you using this? I mean, if you want it you can have it," His lips stretched into a big smile.

"What's the catch?"

"Oh I'm not moving. You want the umbrella...you gotta come get it."

You smiled so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. "You asshole!"

"You want me to move further away? Did I hear that right?" He took a cheeky step back, making the distance between the two of you larger.

You took a deep breath pretending to contemplate your decisions, like you had one, before you took off running towards him. You squealed as the cold water hit your skin. By the time you got under the umbrella your shirt had gone from damp to soaked through.

You laughed breathlessly as Eddie's hand caught your hip. The umbrella forced you into tight quarters, chest to chest with. You always told him he was like a human heater. Even under all the layers of leather you could feel the strong warmth radiating from his chest.

Your eyes locked onto his doe ones. You sighed as your body melted into his. Your hands grasped at the collar of his leather jacket. His face grew closer to yours until his warm nose was touching your freezing one. You leaded up on you tiptoes to close the gap between the two of you.

The kiss grew passionate within the span of a few seconds. You figured that all this playing around had gotten him riled up, which didn't surprise you in the slightest.

You felt Eddie melt into you. His grip tightened on your hip as his other hand lowered enough for you to reach. You took the moment of distraction to snatch the umbrella out of Eddie's ringed hand.

"YOU DEVIL WOMEN!" He screamed after you as you ran away giggling.

It's safe to say that by the time you got home, you were both a wet, giggling mess.

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[heyharoldsboo]

Happy Valentine's day Bestie.

As gift for all your hard work here is a small snippet for your Weniver heart. I hope you like it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday finds herself storming into Xavier’s dorm room after waiting in the quad for 30 minutes before realizing he wasn’t just running late. She hears herself muttering under her breath ways she wanted to kill him before stopping short to find him lying relaxed on his bed, still in the clothes she saw him wear this morning, a book open in his lap, eyes closed shut. 

“Xavier Thorpe. You stood me up because you fell asleep. I have tortured people for less.” She says out loud as she makes her way to the bed, dropping herself next to him and places her hand on his chest ready to shake him awake. Before she can blink an electric current runs up her spine towards her neck and throws her head back. The last thing she sees is his ceiling.

Wednesday quietly takes in her surroundings.  

Darkness. Moonlight shining through a window. A chill from the breeze outside. A melody softly playing. A cello. Warmth. Light from a fire. A fireplace surrounded by dark mahogany wood, Victorian cravings in the frame. A sigh. 

The outtake of breath grabs her attention as she snaps her head to the velvet couch that lays across from the fireplace and its occupants. A man sits in the corner as he watches the flames. The glare from the fire lights up his face and she finds herself staring at Xavier. Only it is not, not the Xavier she knows.This one looks older. It seems he still has kept his hair at its long length, the brown strands falling into his eyes. He looks soft in this light, his eyes unguarded. She watches as his eyes drift down and that is when she notices his hand movement. It runs up and down on something dark. 

Wednesday tries to adjust her eyes in the dim light and finds herself looking at more hair. Black hair. A little girl. In this older Xavier’s lap is a small child, dressed in black and white, sleeping soundlessly in his chest. He looks at the child like…. Like she was something precious, something angelic. 

“It looks like you were right, my love.” His voice rings out, breaking Wednesday concentration . She looks back up to the man only to find him staring right back at her. Directly in her eyes. “It seems she loves the cello. Just like her mother.”

Wednesday feels the rush of air flow back into her lungs as she finds herself staring back at the ceiling of Xavier’s dorm room. 

“Wednesday.” She hears as warm hands cups her shoulder with a slight squeeze. She turns to the voice to find Xaiver awake looking at her with concern under the layer of sleep still lingering on his gaze. 

“What are you doing here?” 

She tries to find her voice but she feels herself still shaken to the core from the scene she just witnessed. What was it? A dream? A fantasy? A vision? She swallows down the unsteady feeling and looks back at the boy to give him a tight lip smile. 

“You never showed up. I was waiting for approximately 30 minutes.” She finds herself answering, feeling a little more like herself as each second passes. 

“The Quad.” He replies, throwing his head back. He moves his hands away from her shoulders to his face as he rubs his eyes before running it through his hair, brushing the brown strands away from his face. “I am so sorry Wednesday. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Didn’t think I would fall asleep.”

“It’s okay.” She hears herself say and sees him look back at her. She takes a second before adding. “Did you have a good sleep?”

She watches as the corners of his lips lift up into a grin. Something flashes across his eyes, almost like recognition she would dare to say. Does that mean it was his dream she saw? Or was it a vision that she happened to stumble upon? Did he know? About her presence?

She watches as he tilts his head to the side, smiling at her with a hint of a teasing smirk and she prepares herself for what he is about to say. 

“Something tells me you already know.”

~*~*~*~*~

Love you.

BESTIEEEEE THIS IS ADORABLE ADORABLE ADORABLE

I LOVE MY GIFT <3<3<3

I NEED MOOOOORE

so so so so soft XAVIER WITH A BABYYYYYY

#heyharoldsboo talks