#I want to do watercolor fire hair

[leviathanspain]

OMG I am living for the Finnick content!!! Could I request something with angst to fluff, with the prompt “look at me, look at me, you’re okay, we’re okay”? Maybe set after catching fire when they both wake up in district 13? Thank you!!

watercolor eyes

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think you would ever see those watercolor eyes again…

a/n: i used hearing loss as reader’s injury, there is no real explanation, so make one up :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it was a stunning color, almost indescribable. he was saying something, his hands moved frantically, you could see them in your peripheral. yet you remained in a trance with his eyes, watching them as they frantically searched yours. then, you realized his lips were moving, and you couldn’t hear him.

“do you think she can hear us?” he blinked, refusing to get emotional at just the thought. from how close you had been, it definitely could’ve resulted in hearing loss. the rescuing of who they could get in the arena didn’t go very well, and he hated to admit that he almost lost you. how he lost peeta and johanna, something that already weighed heavy on him.

suddenly, a scream erupted from you. finnick rose from your side, hands trying to calm you down. you were getting redder as you screamed, exhausting yourself.

“y/n!” he shouted, hoping you’d hear him and stop, but didn’t realize that you were screaming because you couldn’t hear your own voice.

you were panicking. from the looks of finnick, he could hear you, but you couldn’t hear your loud screaming. you felt the vibrations of your own voice, hand at your throat. but nothing was heard. your breath hitched as the stark realization dawned on you. you couldn’t even hear ringing in your ears.

helplessly, you gripped finnick’s arm as he searched your eyes. a doctor practically sprinted towards you. you panicked, gripping onto finnick as you fought off the doctor, a syringe in his hand. you screamed again, now out of reflex. finnick was trying to calm you down but it was hard for someone who had gone temporarily deaf. or at least he hoped it would be temporary. there was no knowing the damage.

“y/n.” he spoke as if you could hear him, shouting wouldn’t change things. you could feel his fingers on your cheek, gently wiping them as tears escaped your eyes.

you wanted to look at him, focus on his eyes, imagine the engulfing waters of the ocean, free to take you and finnick to places you could only dream of.

but the needle stabbing you wouldn’t let you float your mind away.

you wouldn’t be able to hear the ocean, let alone see it.

you grilled finnick’s arm, eyes fighting to stay connected to his, but they fluttered shut, getting one last glimpse of those watercolor eyes.

finnick watched as your eyes fluttered shut. he had been comforting you in a way he knew wasn’t helping. “you’re okay…” he whispered, “you’ll be okay.” he brushed a hair from your voice as your expression calmed. the doctors had decided to sedate you upon your outburst. “i’m sorry.” he whispered more, laying you down back into the bed, words repeating like a broken record.

it had been a week.

your ears were still sensitive, and you had been ordered to stay away from any and all loud noises, which meant you often stayed behind for when president coin called her meetings.

katniss had been making progress, from what you had gathered in whispers from finnick.

“only whispers.” he had whispered the first words you were able to hear. “doctor’s orders.” he smiled brightly. you exhaled, nodding as you matched his whisper. even the sound of your own voice was excruciating in volume. you had tried to force yourself to get used to loud volumes, but it was impossible.

it was more pain than it was worth, that even sometimes the whispers were too sharp.

so you and finnick often settled for a comforting silence. he would hold you in his arms, brushing your hair from your face as you stared deep into his eyes.

he grounded you, from the moment you met him, he had been nothing but kind. he loved you, killed for you, saved you.

“i love you.” you whispered so quietly you wondered if he could even hear you.

he looked down at you, having glanced away for a mere moment. his smile extended up to his eyes, “i love you more.” he whispered, still careful to be quiet.

#finnick odair oneshots #thg finnick odair #finnick odair x female!reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair angst #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #thg x reader #thg angst #thg imagine #finnick x y/n #finnick odair

[incorrectbatfam]

If you could create and add a new DC character, what would they be like?

I'm going to tell you about David, and knowing you guys, you'll agree with me when I say he should have his own comic.

David has been my best friend literally since we were 8. He is the only constant I've had through my life. He introduced me to the drums and helped me get a motorcycle after I got my license. We are each other's platonic ride or die. If he asked me to bury a body, I'd do it no question, and I know he'd do the same for me.

That said, I clearly have the braincell in this friendship.

Don't get me wrong, he's smart in certain aspects. He's a talented musician, good athlete, taught himself to fix most plumbing issues, speaks decent Japanese, easily clicks socially, and is super empathetic. But in others, he's like a plate in a knife drawer.

Some highlights from over the years:

He ate the brown paper bag his lunch came in on a field trip

He thought hot chocolate was just cocoa powder (no milk or water) in a mug and the microwave would melt it. His sister had to call the fire department

He gave a stray dog his scarf for warmth and never saw that scarf again

He licked the dust off an XBox controller

He got a speeding ticket outside the DMV literally five minutes after getting his license

He made gender reveal cupcakes to come out to the rest of our friend group when we were 17, but he threw them into a Ziploc and they jostled around his backpack for half a day before lunch

He thought closing a browser tab would get rid of a computer virus

He tried hotboxing his own car while driving

He almost seasoned his food with pepper spray before someone stopped him

He had a tire swing on a tree in his backyard. He decided to stand on it while swinging and smacked his forehead against a branch in front of him. It was literally the most hollow thwock ever, as if confirming his lack of braincells. He then proceeded to get pissed off and punch the tree. He said it was his most gender-affirming experience

He brought me along on a family road trip and used me as a footrest in the car

He frequently writes drum tabs the way he'd write guitar ones (in short the two are very different kinds of sheet music and I'd need three hands to play them). He absolutely knows better. I think he's messing with me at this point

He mistook wasabi powder for matcha

He once got drunk at a frat party, crawled out the lawn of the house, and began eating grass like a cow

I wanted to know what kissing a dude was like out of curiosity and this was before he started physically transitioning, so to make it a more "authentic" experience, he gargled Gatorade beforehand

He tried to make his first battle jacket with washable Crayola markers

He also tried to dye his hair with his sister's watercolors

He's worn the same sweatshirt since he was 14 and I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him wash it (I was over at his house a lot)

He's the motherfucker that wears running shorts in the snow

He thought his area code would automatically change when we moved to a new state

He once kicked a soccer ball into an oncoming train

BONUS: when he came out to his parents, they were accepting and while he was at school, his dad mounted a fish on David's bedroom door because men I guess

So yeah, if I worked at DC, I'd insert David in the background of every comic just being his chaotic himbo self. David is beyond space and time. There could be a battle on fucking Oa and David would just be there doing a kickflip. That's who I'd choose.

#character idea #original character #personal #batfamily #batfam #batman family #justice league #gotham #batman #dc comics #superheroes #don't try this at home #transgender #lgbtq #story #himbo #tw swearing #tw food mention #tw alcohol mention

[beelsbignaturals]

What is the perfect birthday gift MC can give to the brothers, in your opinion?

🎂 BIRTHDAY DEMONS🎉

Lucifer hates surprises. Probably because anytime someone "surprises" him, it's almost always his brothers fucking shit up catastrophically. But… he does have a soft spot for you. If you are insisting on surprising him with something nice for his birthday just… promise you won't give him more gray hair, okay? Honestly, just keep it simple. Get the other six out of the house, set up a cute candlelit dinner, grab some demonus and you are all set! If you really want to go all out, that coveted factory tour to top it all off would be very much appreciated.

As much as Mammon would be so down to be a sugar baby… he really doesn't want you to spend your life's savings just to get him a gift. I mean, if it's from you, it's worth more than its weight in gold in his eyes. I think Mammon is the type to keep absolutely everything you give him. Tickets from when you went to the movies, a rock you found that you claim matches his eyes, one of those weird spider rings from an arcade. You get the point. He is absolutely whipped. So yeah, something nice would be cool. But he would treasure a handmade card or jewelry just as much, if not more. Simply because it's from you.

I think Leviathan would really appreciate something that ties in to one of his interests but isn't super obvious. Like, of course, everyone gets him Ruri Chan or TSL merch. But something from an anime he showed you once or twice means a lot to him but doesn't have a huge fan base? Levi would cry. Because it means you really do listen to his endless rambles. It's more about the fact you care, that you don't tune him out, rather than what the gift itself is. 

Take Satan to a used bookstore. You can hold hands while walking through a maze of dubiously organized bookshelves, your pinkies linked together while you browse. Let the fourth born pick out a new book or two. If you want to be extra as hell (pun intended), go the extra mile and get him a cat plushie. Preferably with a green bow wrapped around its neck. It's a guarantee that you will soon find Satan and Catan curled up with a book and some tea. He won't let anyone else know it, but Catan is his most prized possession now.

Asmodeus would absolutely love something romantic. Maybe a simple locket. Heart-shaped and rose gold with a picture of the two of you inside. Preferably a photo where you guys look goofy. Perhaps from one of your spa nights, when you were covered in homemade face masks (that Beel had taste tested…) Or, if you want to go old school, a lock of your hair instead. Something that shows the love you feel for him, as opposed to lust.

This is 100% inspired by the Devilgram where Beelzebub teaches you how to snowboard, but.. I honestly think Beel would be the type of person who prefers an experience over a physical gift. And I'm sure the Devildom has some sort of magic ski resort that is always snowy. So why not spend a day snowboarding with Beel?! You can hit the slopes early and then grab some hot chocolate together, sitting inside by a fire until you can feel your fingers again. End the day with an impromptu snowball fight that leaves you breathless, the cold air stinging your lungs as you both collapse on the ground laughing.

I think Belphegor would appreciate something like one of those paintings of what the night sky looked like on an important date. Like maybe your birthday, or the day you first climbed the stairs to the attic, or your first date. Something like that. A gorgeous watercolor background with an exact chart of what the night sky looked like that day, a moment frozen in time. He would keep it right near his bed so it's the first thing he sees every morning. It makes getting up less awful.

#om! shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me x reader #shrimp writes #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me headcanons #request

[leapdayowo]

It’s finally finished!

Them!! My silly lil guys! The ones that make cartoon noises when they splat!!

Oh man, what a fun project :) I’ve been wanting to do a proper watercolor for one of my favorite current fanfics Redstone and Skulk by @silverskye13 and I have done it! I really love Tango and Tanguish’s dynamic and envisioning them working together on decked out. Putting the name tag on the warden is one of many scenes that sticks out to me :)

Since it’s one of my goals for this year, I tried to make the lighting more interesting and dynamic. Tango’s orange, fire hair was a wonderful contrast to the blue ice cavern! I did heavily debate putting my usual line art with a pen, but decided not to so as not to lose some of the details from my colored pencils. Unfortunately, I once again forgot to take a picture at the sketch phase to show the progress :P

Regardless, I hope I captured just how much these two are creatures in my mind :3

#them <3 #redstone and skulk #tango tek #tanguish #watercolor #traditional art #my art #seriously this story is a great comfort to me and is a such a lovely and captivating piece :) #I highly recommend checking it out! You don’t even need to be all that familiar with what hels are to enjoy it #Hopefully I’ll have time and stamina to make some other pieces :3 I have stuff planned out it’s just a matter of executing them

[weemssapphic]

I saw your requests are open and I was hoping you could write a Larissa x f!reader :)) reader and Larissa are already in a relationship but reader is still very shy around her. R is an artist but only ever draws plants and flowers which Larissa loves but one day she decides to draw her girlfriend and keeps the drawing hidden in her sketchbook (cause she’s shy and nervous about it) until Larissa flips through it one day and finds it. I think she would get really emotional and think that the way reader sees her is really beautiful and would be so soft with reader and shower them in so much love and affection <3

A/N: thank you so much for the request, i'm sorry it took so long and i hope it turned out to your liking <3

this is heaven

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

words: ~2.2k | ao3 link in title

content: fluff, lots of fluff, brief moment of anxiety there in the middle

Art had always been a passion of yours. Every scrap of paper that found itself under your hands eventually ended up covered in doodles, the walls of your quarters were plastered with canvases of your own paintings. You worked with nearly every medium you could get your hands on, from watercolor to acrylics to oils and everything in between, though the subject matter was always the same - plants, flowers, foliage. 

The beauty of nature simply captured your eye like nothing else had ever managed to do. Until you met your girlfriend, Larissa Weems, that is. God, that woman managed to light a fire inside of you, bringing parts of your heart to life that you previously hadn’t known to exist.

You still didn’t know how you’d managed to woo a woman like Larissa but you were so grateful for it. She was everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. Months into your relationship she still made your heart flutter and butterflies erupt in your stomach every time you looked at her, and, if you were honest with yourself, her piercing gaze still managed to make you a bit nervous. You felt like a giddy, lovestruck teenager.

“Darling?” Larissa’s lilting accent pulled you out of your daydream.

“Hmm?” You hummed absentmindedly as she stepped in front you, fingers carding through your hair, crimson lips pecking your own in a chaste kiss.

“You’re staring again.” There was a teasing smirk plastered on Larissa’s face but your cheeks burned all the same.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. 

“Don’t be sorry, I love it.” Your girlfriend wrapped her arms around you, placing her chin atop your head, and you could feel the soothing vibrations of her voice as she spoke. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes and I have to prepare. I’ll see you tonight?”

You pulled back, smiling and pressing a final kiss to her lips. “See you tonight.”

~~~

Your classes passed achingly slowly that day, your students busy with painting a still life as you sat at your desk. Having finished your grading for the week and answered all of your emails, you pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a blank page, hoping to pass the last hour of class by filling the paper with a few doodles. 

Your pencil hovered over the paper as you thought for a moment. Perhaps a simple rose, or a lily, just a little sketch to kill time. Your mind drifted back to that morning with Larissa: to the wisps of silvery hair framing her face, the angular lines of her clavicles, the curves of her hips hidden beneath her dress, the smooth muscles of her long calves.

With butterflies fluttering madly about behind your navel, you decided to try something different and started to draw, your girlfriend’s stunning form slowly taking shape underneath your pencil. It was wildly out of your comfort zone and you were sure the drawing would never see the light of day - something for your eyes alone - but it didn’t look half bad.

Your drawing was inspired by a picnic you’d gone on over the summer. Larissa had looked so stunning in a light green, sleeveless dress, one that bunched up deliciously around her tummy and thighs when she sat on the picnic blanket, revealing long, pale legs which she crossed demurely at the ankles. She’d tilted her head back to bask in the warm glow of the midday sun, looking so blissful and carefree - face devoid of any frown lines, any creases between her eyebrows or on her forehead. When she’d felt your gaze upon her, she’d smiled brightly at you, sapphire eyes shining, crinkling at the outer corners. A light flush had adorned her cheeks and you hadn’t been able to resist the urge to kiss her senseless, committing the sounds of her giggles to memory.

You were so engrossed in your sketching that you nearly jumped when the bell rang, signifying the end of your workday. You hastily shoved the sketchbook into your bag and dismissed your class, excited to spend the evening with Larissa.

~~~

Larissa let herself into your shared quarters, toeing off her heels and setting her purse down next to the door.

“Darling?” she called out, knowing your classes had already ended and you were usually home before her. 

“In here,” came your reply.

Larissa followed your voice into the kitchen, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips when she saw you chopping up some vegetables for dinner, focused completely on the task at hand. She came to stand behind you, pressing herself into you and kissing the sensitive spot beneath your ear, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Hi, baby,” you breathed, setting down the knife and tilting your head to the side to give Larissa full access to your neck.

“Hi, love,” she murmured between the sloppy kisses she planted down your neck, leaving a trail of red lipstick prints in her wake.

You turned in her embrace so you could kiss her properly, groaning as her tongue parted your lips and began to explore your mouth, sliding smoothly against your own.

You pulled away reluctantly, your hands settling on her waist as you pecked her lips.

“Let me just go to the bathroom really fast and then I’ll finish prepping dinner, okay?” Larissa hummed in approval and you pressed a chaste kiss to Larissa’s cheek before padding off down the hallway.

Larissa sighed and leaned against the counter, gazing absently around the room when her eyes fell to your sketchbook poking out of your bag. She was enthralled by your artwork and loved when you’d show her what you’d drawn throughout the day. Surely you wouldn’t mind…

Curiosity got the better of her and Larissa plucked the book from your bag, flipping through it. Her lips curled into a smile at the different flowers and plants you’d drawn, some she didn’t even recognize, making a mental note to ask you about them.

Her fingers turned to the most recent page and her heart began to hammer in her chest.

She recognized the scene you’d drawn, she knew immediately the woman in the drawing was her, though it was so beautiful it made her pause. Her finger traced over her own image, enraptured. 

Larissa wasn’t blind - she knew she wasn’t unattractive. Still, she’d never thought of herself in quite that way before. As a child she was bullied for her height, her androgyny. As a teenager she’d experimented with her shapeshifting abilities, desperate to find little ways to change herself in order to make herself more palatable, to help herself blend in more.

As an adult she had accepted herself, even grown to love herself, for who she was. But the scars from her childhood remained, and would always influence the way she saw herself and presented herself to the world.

For someone to see her, all of her, and truly love her? To see the beauty in the little crinkles next to her eyes, her wide smile, her unusual height? To even draw inspiration from her? It was enough to bring Larissa to the brink of tears.

~~~

You exited the bathroom and made your way back to the kitchen, coming to a halt in front of your girlfriend, who was looking down at a book in her hands.

“Rissa?” She looked up at your voice, tears in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

You were immediately alarmed, unsure what had inspired this sudden onslaught of emotion. That’s when your eyes fell back to the book in her hands. Your sketchbook. 

Your stomach dropped and you felt your face and chest turn bright red. You knew exactly what Larissa had seen.

“Rissa, I’m, um, I didn’t mean for you to-” you stuttered, close to tears yourself as you couldn’t read the emotions on her face. You just weren’t as experienced in drawing people. What if it was no good and she felt horrible about it and you’d just made her feel awful?

“Is this how you see me?” she whispered, holding back a choked sob. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding nervously, an icy cold shooting through your veins.

Larissa dropped the sketchbook unceremoniously onto the counter and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug.

“Is… is it okay?” Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, voice muffled against Larissa’s shoulder.

“Oh, darling,” Larissa leaned back, cupping your cheeks in her hands. “It’s beautiful. You make me feel beautiful.” She smiled brightly, a contrast to the tears still streaming down her cheeks. You reached up, swiping them away with the pad of your thumb.

“You are beautiful, Larissa. A silly drawing could never do you justice.” You held her gaze, staring deeply into watery sapphires, hoping she would believe every word. A lovely blush akin to a sunset tinted her cheeks at your words.

“And yet you did a marvelous job, my darling,” she murmured, taking your chin between her fingers and capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“May I keep it?” Her eyes shone brightly as they searched yours.

“You want to keep it?” You were stunned.

“I want to be able to look at it every day, so I can always remember how you see me, even on days when I don’t see myself that way.” Her smile wobbled a little and you cupped her cheek, tracing your thumb over her jaw as unshed tears of happiness glazed over your eyes.

“Of course, Larissa,” you murmured.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, picking you up off the floor and spinning you in a circle, eliciting a series of giggles from you that filled your kitchen.

When she set you down, you were out of breath and slightly dizzy, grinning up at her. 

“Were you nervous about your drawing?” she asked, looking slightly concerned as her hand came up to cup your cheek.

“A bit,” you confessed, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Darling, you are the best artist I know. You know I love everything you draw.” Larissa planted a kiss to your lips. “You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear. I love you.”

The way she looked down at you with such warmth and care in her eyes gave you a surge of confidence and you pulled out of her embrace, her eyebrows furrowing as you hopped up onto the counter and parted your legs.

“Come here,” you giggled, and Larissa came to stand between your thighs.

“You are so stunning, Larissa, it makes my heart stop when I look at you. I just had to draw you, even knowing I could never do your beauty justice.”

Larissa blushed a lovely shade of pink at your words, ducking down to tuck her face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t hide from me, my love,” you murmured. You took her hand in your own, bringing her knuckles up to your lips and kissing each one lightly before flipping her hand over and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm.

“Such beautiful hands,” your breath fluttered over her skin, sending a visible trail of goosebumps up her arm, which you chased with your lips. “Soft, perfect skin.”

Your lips reached Larissa’s shoulder and you pulled back her dress a bit to kiss the skin there. “Adorable freckles,” you giggled as you kissed your way to her neck, reveling in the airy moan she let out as your lips lingered there, sucking a bit at her pulse point.

Your lips connected with her jaw, tracing a path from left to right. “Strong jaw…” You hovered over her lips for a moment, not quite making contact before smirking and pulling away to pepper kisses all over cheeks. “Lovely, blushy cheekbones.” They were warm under your lips with the heat of her flush.

“Hair spun from moonlight,” you tucked a stray wave behind Larissa’s ear, gazing lovingly into her eyes, which stared at you with such an intensity your knees might have buckled, had you been standing. “Eyes as blue as the clearest ocean.”

Your hands worked at the buttons at the front of her dress, revealing the swell of her cleavage covered in a lacy bra, and again your lips bypassed her own as you attached them to her collarbone, nipping gently at the skin. 

“My goddess, sculpted from marble,” you whispered against her skin, your kisses moving down her sternum until you reached her breasts. You pulled her bra aside to nip and suck at the soft flesh, before flicking your tongue over her nipple. Larissa squirmed under your touch, whimpering as your teeth grazed the slowly hardening bud.

Your hands soothed over her hips before coming to rest on her ass, roughly palming her through her dress, drawing a moan from her chest.

“Darling,” she panted, and you glanced up at her. “Just kiss me already.”

You surged up, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss which Larissa immediately deepend, licking into your mouth and letting out a heavenly whine.

“Let me worship you?” You murmured against her lips. If the responding moan wasn’t answer enough, surely the way Larissa gripped your thighs and dragged you closer to her was.

You allowed yourself to be dragged to the bedroom and all you could think was that this, right here, Larissa’s fingers threaded through your own, her lips attacking every bit of skin they could reach, this was heaven.

x

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“You Have The Right To Remain Silent” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part 2 of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series (Read Part 1 Here)

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader (eventually)

Tags: Fluff and Flirting

Word Count: 2200

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Fire and Firelight" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: “Big Sky”, ABC)

You were patrolling on foot. It was the third of July. The sun had set. The sky was a watercolor swirl of pinks, purples and blues. The temperature dropped maybe ten degrees from the afternoon. You guessed in about half an hour your jacket would need zipping.

You shouldn’t have made eye contact with Linda. To be fair, she had marched right up to you in the path so there wasn’t any way you could ignore her. 

Corey had asked you, Marie, and Elwood to stagger your shifts for extra coverage around the campsites over the rest of the week. In case anybody got a little extra randy with their Independence Day festivities.

Corey had been surprised you’d agreed to some late-night hours without that much of a fuss. The holiday pay was enticing enough. He didn’t need to know the chance to see Beau Arlen at campsite 15 was a personal bonus.

Unfortunately, you had to pass by campsite 14 and the Devonshires to do that.

~

You shake your head, sure you hadn’t heard Linda Devonshire correctly.

“I’m sorry, what is it you think Sh-” you halt, remembering not to mention Beau’s law enforcement title “-Mr. Arlen is doing?”

“You know, pot,” she whispers and raises two pinched fingers to her mouth and mock inhales.

You stifle a grin. There’s a ten percent chance Linda has dabbled. Donning what you hope is a serious looking stare, you nod slowly for added effect. “Mary Jane?” you ask.

“Yes. I’ve been smelling it since he’s been back.” She crosses her arms. “Can you arrest him?”

The laugh can’t be held back this time. “I don’t have the ability to arrest someone. But, we can give the authorities a call, if we have our suspicions.”

“I’ve read up on it. It may be legal to use in Montana, but not outdoors and in public spaces where impressionable children are only a stone’s throw away.” She sweeps a hand over toward her family plot.

“You’re correct about the legalization law.” You smile. “Thanks for keeping an eye out for the well being of our visitors.”

“Happy to help.” She smiles back, all accomplished and proud, then trots off to her RV.

Linda was right. There’s a smell as soon as you round the back of the Devonshire’s camp site and tread closer to Arlen’s.

But you know the odor. And it isn’t marijuana.

He’s not outside. There’s a small part of your brain that thinks maybe you round the site and head back to report on your findings to Linda. It might shut her up for a while. But, you realize that’s a ridiculous leap. Instead, you decide to pay the sheriff a house call.

You tap on the door with a friendly knock. In no time it opens outward and a wide smile greets you.

“Ranger.” Beau is in jeans and a pale blue button up. The shirt is untucked and a bit creased. His hair is a little mussed.

He looks yummy.

“Beau.” You nod. “How are you this evening?”

“Not in trouble again, am I?” he asks, looking hopeful with a tilt of his head. You can’t quite tell if he wants to be reprimanded. And that gets all sorts of untoward thoughts in your head. You blink in quick succession to try and wipe them from your mind.

“Not unless you’ve been smokin’ skunk.” You deadpan.

He shakes his head and grins. “Not lucky enough to have any of that lying around. No, I ran over some fresh roadkill that I ID’d of the black and white striped variety a little too late. Lucky me, that smell followed me home.” A finger waves about the outdoor chairs. “Don’t want to be outside tonight.”

Your nose crinkles. “I don’t blame you.”

“Still working?” He frowns along with his question.

“Some overtime. Celebration shenanigans and all.”

He nods in understanding. “Yeah, we’ve had to stack the station too this week.” His brows raise. “You want to come in and do a thorough search?” Leaning down, he whispers, “In case Linda’s watchin’?”

“That’s mighty nice of you to let me take a peek without a warrant.”

“An amenable criminal. That’s me.” He waves you in.

You step inside. The trailer isn’t stuffed as much as it is lined with the life of the Sheriff. The sliding door of a closet is open. Inside, his array of jackets hang along shirts with some filing boxes filling up space beneath it all on the floor. There’s a strong temptation to slide the door to the other side and find what you suspect is rows of cowboy boots. His cowboy hat rests on a hook by the entrance. The airstream contains all the basics one person needs. Food prep area with a bit of cabinet storage and a tiny counter, sink and cooktop. At the other end past the closet, and another door that is most likely the bathroom, you spot a bunk bed. The top bunk is being used for clothes stacking and storing other odds and ends.

When you’d stopped at Dewell & Hoyt Private Investigations the other day, Cassie hadn’t been there. But, Denise, receptionist and knower of all the things, greeted you with a smile and a cup of coffee. You’d caught up with her and got your fill about “Bobo” - Denise’s nickname for Sheriff Beau Arlen.

There was an ex-wife who had a new husband. Beau had a teenage daughter with the ex. Ex-wife, new hubs, and Beau’s daughter had all moved to Montana about a year ago. They weren’t that far from Helena but far enough from Houston, Texas. The city in which Beau Arlen lived and worked. Taking over the sheriff duty for Tubbs wasn’t appearing to be an entirely altruistic favor.

You realize how much stock you're taking of the man’s state of living and attempt a friendly nosiness. “Are you ready to plant some roots and find a place in town?” Your gaze trails back to his face at the end of your questions. He’s been staring at you with the kind of intensity you think he saves for witnesses to a crime.

He shakes his head. “Nah, not yet. Haven’t been lookin’ to be honest.”

You squint. “You know, you’ve only got a few more days in the campgrounds.”

“At this campsite.” He emphasizes. “If I coincidentally happen to move to a new site while Corey happens to forget the fourteen day max stay every thirty days…” He shrugs. “Accidents happen.”

You chuckle. “Negotiating any discounts in the process during all this happenstance?”

Beau laughs at the insinuation. “Hey, I’m payin’ for my stay fair and square.”

“Of course, Sheriff.” The playful tone in your voice has Beau raise an eyebrow, which then makes you clear your throat.

Those green eyes rivet you in place as his expression softens. “Actually, I’m hoping my daughter might be staying with me in a couple weeks. We’ve camped in this tin can a bunch of times.”

“Oh?”

He smiles. “Emily. The one Denise mentioned to you.”

Crap.

“She said you stopped by the office earlier in the week.” He walks and talks his way to the kitchenette, which only takes about two steps along those bow legs capped with pointy leather boots. How much more Texas cowboy billboard can he be? He’s a lite Marlboro Man without the cigarette odor. And there’s nothing unpleasant about the way he smells. Whatever cologne he wears lingers in the RV. The small space amplifies his inviting scent and nature.  

You are crushing way too hard and way too fast for the Sheriff. You know this because you’ve obviously lost a few seconds staring at him. And he’s apparently asked you a question and is waiting for the answer. “Sorry?” you stammer.

He pops a little smirk as he’s haloed by fluorescent lighting. There’s only a couple inches of headroom between him and the ceiling. His freckles are on full display. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Your head shakes. “No.”

He grumbles more to himself. “Damn. Would have been a perfect night for it then.”

You know you didn’t miss that much of the conversation. “Huh?”

He beckons you with a hand. Following his direction and closing the distance, you see a small tray with two cedar planks soaking in water. Out of a mini fridge disguised as a cabinet he pulls two neatly wrapped brown parchment packages. The distinct smell of seafood wafts out along with them.

“Is that…” you stop yourself from daring to assume.

“Salmon,” he finishes, sighing with obvious disappointment. “I was gonna fire up the grill and see if I could tempt you over with a taste test. See if it measures up to back home. But the smell won’t make for a pleasant cooking or dining experience out there. And I don’t have anywhere to eat in here.”

You swallow down wanting to ask why he would be thinking about your food  conversation from a few nights back. Why he’d go to all this thought and trouble? But you don’t. Because you’re extremely grateful he hasn’t asked why you’ve been getting details on him through the locals without coming to the source.

“Maybe it’ll keep until tomorrow. If you’re available for dinner, that is?” Beau asks.

You smile. “I’ll do you one better.”

~

Elwood owed you. You reminded him of that when you requested the favor. He was a good ranger. But the kid was chronically late for his shifts at least once a week. You’d been covering his ass since he began working at Black Sandy six months ago.

So, Elwood was now adding your corner of the park to his security sweep. You were taking an extra long break at one of the unreserved campsites. Far enough away from the watchful gaze of Linda Devonshire and the stink of skunk.

You’d given Beau instructions to meet you at a certain time and damn if the man wasn’t punctual. He strolled up, illuminated by the flames from the fire you’d stoked in the designated area.

The cooler he holds bops a bit with each step. Boot heels settle in the dirt with a swish as he shuffles.

You try your best pensive and serious stare. “Were you followed?”

“Don’t think I’ve got a tail.” Beau grins and places the cooler on the ground. “I could hear Linda on the phone in her trailer when I tiptoed past.”

“Good.” You smile.

He stands tall and takes in the scene. “You weren’t kidding about handling everything and me just bringing the food.” He gestures at the small portable grill.

“I’ve always got camping stuff in my car. Ranger brain.” You state and point to the empty camp chair next to the one you’re sitting in. “You can settle in after you get the salmon started.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your heart stutters at the way he teases you with the formal address. You don’t know this man well enough for it to feel this easy and familiar. But you trust your gut and relax. 

“Sure you aren’t gonna get in trouble?”

You shrug. “I’ve got the sheriff to vouch for me if I do.”

He rubs his hands together. “Alright then.”

~

Beau Arlen looks even prettier in the firelight. It complements his demeanor. He’s as warm as the flickering fire you both sit around, feasting on the grilled salmon he’s prepared. The orange-yellow glow from the flames dance over his frame. It adds to that little dash of mystery about him that’s so enticing.

Yeah, you are the moth in this scenario. You take a sip from the bottle of pop. Beau offered a beer but considering you’ve got a few more hours on the clock, it’s probably best to steer clear of alcohol.

“Sorry I couldn’t manage the asparagus and mashed potatoes.” Beau chews, thoughtful, his gaze darting from your face to your plate and back again.

“Do you seriously feel there’s any need for an apology?” You swallow the mouthful. “The salmon is moist and flaky and so tasty.” After the compliment, you dare and prod him. “I’m wondering what I did to deserve such special treatment.”

He gulps a bit of beer and leans back. His long legs stretch out by the edge of the firepit. The plate balances precariously atop thighs, tucked into the space created by his bow legs. “You do a great job taking care of this park. Hard work deserves special treatment now and again.”

The blanket of night and the warm glow of the fire hides the blush coloring your cheeks. You’re extremely grateful.

“And, well,” he clears his throat, “I’ve enjoyed your company. Figured offering a favorite meal would ensure another opportunity.” Firelight sparkles in his eyes along with a heated, serious stare at you. “I also thought you wouldn’t be averse to seeing more of me” –he lifts a shoulder– “considerin’ you had a lot of questions for Denise.”

Your tongue trips over itself. “Beau… I… you…”

He raises a hand. “Darlin’,” he murmurs, “just remember you have the right to remain silent. Or I may end up holdin’ a lot of things against you.” He grins.

You are without a shadow of a doubt being hit on by Sheriff Beau Arlen.

“Way I see it,” he continues, “we should spend some more time together. When neither of us are workin’. So I don’t feel like you're being hospitable just out of duty and you don’t think I’m interrogating you like a suspect.”

You smile. “That sounds an awful lot like a date.”

He nods. “I accept.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

[juniperjellyfish]

Happy last day of pride everyone! Here’s an unedited sneak peak at Extinction Part Two

(REMEMBER, THIS IS UNEDITED)

“Kai, hurry up!” I pound the door and hear the rush of water go silent.

“Relax, Cole,” his muffled voice comes over the shuffling of clothes. He opens the door and lets me in.

I bite my tongue and hold back a gasp of shock as he stands there in gray sweats, towel in hand… and no shirt.

“You good?” He backs up and wrings out his shoulder length hair, dripping it into the bathtub.

I watch as he bends over and brushes his hair off with the towel. Averting my eyes, I grab my toothbrush and mutter a weak, “Yes.”

I put toothpaste on it, wet it, and start brushing my teeth as Kai continues talking.

“Ya know, with how many times we’ve rebuilt this place, you think we would’ve put in another bathroom.” He stands and flips his hair over his back like a model, sending a hot flutter through my chest.

I nod in agreement and force myself to look away.

“Wanna go a few rounds in Lava Zombie 2?” He leans into me casually and the heat from his skin makes my heart stop.

I spit out the toothpaste and wipe off my mouth with a tissue, “Oh, I- I- I should get some sleep. I have patrols with Zane in the morning.”

“That’s okay buddy.” He gives me that oh-so charming smile of his, “I get if you don’t want to lose your winning streak.” Kai cracks his knuckles and laughs with a hint of pettiness on his tongue.

“Ha ha, HairGel. You know you’ll never beat me.”

He tilts his head and smirks, looking me up and down. The way he bites his lip makes it seem as if I’m the size of an ant and he towers over me. “You’re probably right. Also,-“ he slicks his hair back and leans in closer to the mirror, “-you mind if I crash in your room tonight? Lloyd kinda took over my bed and that kid kicks like no other.”

“You know I snore right?” Where did that come from? Of course I want him to stay in my room!

He flexes his arms and smiles into his reflection. “Yeah, but I don’t feel like being a third wheel to Nya and Jay or Zane and Pix, plus Lloyd’s room smells overwhelmingly like candy.”

“Okay!” I purse my lips from my burst of excitement, “You can stay with me no-problem.”

“Thanks!” He puts his arm up on my shoulder and I stare at the floor, “I’ll just take your hammock.”

I clear my throat, “O-okay, do you need any blankets?” Of course he doesn’t! He never uses them! He’s the master of fire! He’s always hot!

Literally and figuratively.

Shut up.

“Ha!” He waved his hand at me, “The Master of Fire doesn’t need blankets!”

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a second.” I step out of the bathroom and glance back, admiring Kai’s dark golden skin, the small drops of water that roll down his back, the way his muscles flex when he moves, and…

Snap out of it, Cole!

I shake my head and walk silently into my room, images of him swim through my brain, making my cheeks burn.

I slide the door shut behind me and walk over to the window sill, basking in the warm pink and orange light that bleeds into the clouds like watercolors on paper.

Stepping back, my heart pounds in my ears while I slide open a black dresser drawer and pull out a woven hammock.

The thumping of the blood in my head drowns out the thoughts of Kai, at least until my door opens and artificial, yellow lights spill in, casting his perfect shadow across the floor.

“That was fast.” I laugh quietly, trying to hide the edge on my voice.

Kai walks over to me and takes one end of the hammock from me, “All I needed to do was brush my hair.”

We hang the hammock on the hooks in the walls and he hops in, swinging back and forth about waist high on me.

He puts his hands behind his head and speaks softly, “Thanks again, man.”

“Yeah,” I sit on the edge of my bed, “No problem.” Laying down, I close my eyes and pull a blanket over myself. My heart twists in my chest with an addicting pain.

This stupid crush is only getting worse.

If I made a move on him now, would he accept it?

Probably not, I doubt he even knows I don’t like girls like he does.

There’s always a chance that he would accept an advance, though… right?

The thought of me taking Kai’s hand and pulling him onto the bed with me explodes in my brain with a flash of color. The way I’d pull him under me and watch the steam rise off his body…

Nope!

My eyes snap open.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Stop it Cole, you’re being creepy. You can’t do this. Nope. Nope. Nope.

I roll over and face the wall away from Kai, burying my head in my hair.

Maybe some day.

“Hey, Cole…”

I turn back the other way, “Yeah?”

“I have a question to ask you.”

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lego #extinction ninjago #ninjago extinction #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago cole #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #Ninjago Zane #Ninjago pixal #lava #lavashipping #ninjago lavashipping #kai X Cole #Cole x kai #jj writes

[lesbianwriter]

Sword fight between two enemy queens with some sexual tension

“I won’t let you win, this time.” Hero warned, the words hauntingly familiar on her tongue; she could nearly taste the memory from her childhood, the thought of it stirring as she stared down the enemy queen, Villain.

“My, my…have you been practicing?” Villain marveled, drawing her sword from its sheath, twirling it with an odd lackadaisical grace, as if handling it required no effort on her part.

Hero narrowed her eyes to daggers.

“Exile gives you plenty of free time to practice.” She spat out, gripping the hilt of her sword and pointing it at Villain. “I’ve come to get my kingdom back from you.”

“Didn’t you receive my letters? I offered a solution…”

“I burned your letters for kindling.” Sneering, Hero glared at Villain with a fire flickering in her gaze. She wanted to wrap her hands around Villain’s neck and throttle her—she wanted to slam her against the wall and make her sorry—she looked at Villain’s lips and she wanted…

Furious, she shook her head and gripped her sword tighter. What was in the past was in the past—they were once children, and they were once arranged to marry, but that was the past. Hero had to leave it behind to succeed.

Still, yet, ghostly fingers played at her mind—teased her into thinking about what once was, as she readied herself to attack a once lover.

Villain glared, raising up her sword, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips. “You won’t win this fight.”

“I will, and I won’t have mercy on you.” Hero sneered, then lunged, aiming to cut Villain down atop the very steps of her throne.

Quickly, Villain moved a step to the side and the two of their swords clashed, the sound of metal striking metal echoing through the vaulted ceiling.

Hero growled and reared back, charging once more. Her blade sliced to the air, narrowly missing Villain’s neck by mere centimeters—the faintest brush closer, and Hero would have won. But, Villain was a little too fast, just a hair quicker, her reflexes a half-second sharper. Only a single drop of blood dripped onto the marble steps, and Villain laughed at the attempt.

Before either could blink, their were clashing swords again.

“You might’ve become better, but you didn’t become good enough.” Villain seethed, an odd smile twisting onto her lips, her eyes honed on Hero with the intensity of a hawk.

“I will win this.” Hero insisted, teeth gritted.

“But you didn’t win the war,” Villain taunted in a chilling whisper, her sword scraping against Hero’s, sparks flying in the air. “If you can’t win with an army, how do you expect to win this?”

The two pulled away, but a flame was burning in Hero’s core and advanced again, fighting with increased intensity fueling every blow and strike. She thought of the Villain she once knew, but whoever that was…she was gone. She was dead, in Hero’s eyes. She fought harder, not holding back a single scrape of her hatred. She would be deadly.

As she continued to advance, the battle of skill and wit stirred up dregs from her childhood. Whenever they played games together… Villain always won unless she let Hero win. Blurry, watercolor memories of the two of them discovering they were arranged to marry became fuel for a fire. It roared with anger.

How could Villain have betrayed her?

The stars said they were destined to be together, and here Villain was, sitting on a stolen throne.

Hero grunted as she was sidestepped again, and struck her sword out.

“I’ve been waiting for this a long time.” Hero hissed furiously, her eyes ripping over Villain.

That neck, those lips, that curve of her shoulder—how was this the same person she’d loved? The same person she has wanted to marry?

She could smell Villain’s perfume—it was the same one Hero remembered all the times she was nuzzled into Villain’s neck and inhaled deeply. She looked at her eyes and saw the mischievous gleam hidden behind the coldness.

Villain smirked softly. “You must still love me if you’ve been dreaming about me this much.”

“You sent me letters while I was in exile, I think you love me more.” Hero scowled.

“You came in here and tried to kill me. That’s devotion.” Villain mused tauntingly, holding up her blood-stained sword.

Hero clenched her jaw and attacked again, blindly, but was halted by the cold, sharp edge of a sword in her skin.

She stood frozen, her eyes drifting down to the sword in her body and the hands wrapped around the hilt.

“Maybe if you were to fight strategically instead of like a wild boar, you never would’ve lost your kingdom. All this misplaced confidence…oh, Hero, exile hasn’t changed you. Made you a little gloomy, but you’re still the same at heart.” Villain hummed, looking at Hero’s eyes.

“You…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fetch the finest medics I can. Now that I have you here, I can’t simply let you go, can I?”

#villain x hero #hero x villain #sapphic #writing snippet #royalty #sword fight #heroes and villains #wlw #my writing

[chitsuu]

OC Kiss Week 2024: Lost

Doing this little challenge this week, with my FFXIV character and his husband (@kitshunette's son)!

I actually forgot that the paper of this watercolors sketchbook is not really forgiving when it comes to multiple layers, so that should help me not overthink the sketches

Also, I'm not much of a writer, but I decided to write a little something for each drawing, little windows in their story (which is also why I'm using the @ockissweek prompt list but not in order)

Jisul was walking fast, almost slightly running, as he did not want to be late to his meeting with the Viscount Jannequinard de Durendaire. Getting accepted in the Athenaeum Astrologicum had not been the easiest task, considering he was not from Ishgard in the first place, and Ishardians were still a bit wary of foreigners. But Jisul was highly motivated, and he really wanted to make sure they would not regret their choice. So getting to the school late was simply not an option.

In insight, what happened was totally predictable. Just as he was about to reach the entrance, there was a loud thump, a collision, and astrology cards went flying everywhere amidst the falling snow as both the Au Ra and an Elezen lost their balance.

“Are you alright?”

Hearing the voice, Jisul’s heart went strangely still and the world tilted.

***

The city was burning. Smoke rose everywhere, the sky was red, intermittently illuminated by flashes of light, and ashes were slowly falling like snowflakes. Jisul somehow remembered how the city looked before - large paved streets, city lights, the muted noises of long robes fluttering around. Now the only sounds left were the fires raging all around, and soft cries.

He felt an infinite amount of grief piercing his heart. Grief for what had been, what was happening and what was going to happen next.

Yet, in the midst of all the chaos, the only thing that felt right was the man standing in his arms. Jisul reached up to cup his lover’s face in his hands, and the grief he felt suddenly seemed tiny and laughable when faced with the clear eyes looking straight at him. The sense of loss brought by looking into those eyes was being deeply engraved into his very soul, as if willed into existence by creation magic itself, while the world crumbled around them.

“Let’s make a promise. No matter what, we will find each other again. In every live.”

His lover spoke in a low voice, unfaltering in his conviction, and yet the pain was lurking just below the surface, a pain mirroring Jisul’s.

“We will. I promise you. We will find each other again, no matter how long it takes. I will stand by your side again.”

“So will I.”

They both smiled, but the sadness contained within was overflowing. That vow was made on burning, empty grounds.

His smile is so beautiful, even now.

Jisul was unable to stop the thought from forming.

Without thinking, without a word, their lips found each other, as if to seal the promise. The kiss tasted like ashes. The feeling of losing a part of himself was overwhelming. The world was lit ablaze.

***

“Are you alright?”, the man repeated, a touch of worry in his voice.

As Jisul drew his gaze to the clear eyes looking straight at him, the world tilted back in place, and his heart started beating again, albeit a little faster than usual. The eyes belonged to an Elezen with tan skin and darker hair. The very image of the already disappearing memory he just experienced, except for the pointed ears. Then again, in that particular vision, Jisul had neither scales nor horns.

“Ah, uh, yes, I’m very sorry about this, I hope I didn’t hurt you…”

Jisul offered his hand to help the man stand, suddenly feeling shy.

What was that memory?

As they got back on their feet, the Elezen smiled, saying there was no harm done, but maybe they ought to pick up the cards before they could get damaged by the snow? Flustered, Jisul agreed and started collecting the stray cards, pondering on the already fading vision, just like a dream leaving in the morning.

Jisul would have doubted his brain entirely, if it was not for that quiet sense of a promise fulfilled swelling in his heart, filling the hole of having lost something he did not even realize he had before, along with a part of his soul contentedly humming, deep down.

Found you.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #oc kiss week 2024 #Elidivien Greystone #Jisul Neuntsa #Elijisul #FFXIV #my art #sketch #my oc #fanart #WOL #watercolors #EliJisul

[pierrotsmoon]

Love (and Logic)

Chapter 1- Temple of Love

(crossposted from my Ao3)

Going to Miskatonic as an art student is tough enough; the pretentious boy in Y/N's anatomy course is somehow making it worse.

A/N: I researched bone structure for this, any skeletal enthusiasts feel free to make corrections. Also character's thoughts will be italicized.

Herbert West x Fem! Reader

Warnings!- Enemies to lovers, harrasment, dr. Hill being creepy, first day of classes, budding friendships, DAN AND HERB RESPECT WOMEN!!! tell me if I missed anything!

Going to Miskatonic as an art student was what Y/N had wanted for her entire life. The prestigious institution allowed her a full-ride scholarship, probably because they needed more fine arts students to keep getting grant money. Best not to dwell on negatives! As Y/N opened up her backpack, she shoved in her sketchbook, textbook, pencil case, and field watercolor kit. Swinging the pack over her back, she broke open her apartment door and sauntered out.

Y/N opened up the pink class schedule she had written, anatomy, wonderful. The medical students at Miskatonic seemed good at first, but tended to look down upon the arts, especially during classes often shared by both majors. As soon as she walked through the door, the eyes of the few students inside turned to her. The instructor came up to her.

"Good morning. I’m Doctor Carl Hill, and I'm pleased to meet you."

The doctor smiled at her, and Y/N felt a chill climb up her spine. This man did not leave a good taste in her mouth, and she didn't like how he placed his hand on her shoulder. She quickly found a seat next to a young man who was glaring at the doctor.

“He’s such a creep around girls.”

The man whispered to himself loudly enough for only them to hear. Y/N looked down at her watch; it was 20 minutes until class  started. The brunette in scrubs turned around to look at the young woman, giving her a (far less creepy) smile. He wore gloves on his hands and appeared frazzled, with messy hair and untied shoelaces. 

"My name is Dan, and I'm a medical student; what are you studying?"

Dan gave her a boyish smile, and the young woman smiled back. 

“I’m Y/N, I study visual and fine arts.”

The boy looked momentarily amazed, like he had stars in his eyes. He looked at her casual clothing, sweater, a skirt, and Mary Janes—and he knew he had finally found a friend in his least favorite class. The two of them began making small talk as the sound of footsteps broke the conversation.

“Good morning doctor, is the skull functions quiz today?”

The professor visibly tensed.

“Dr. West, a pleasure as always.”

Y/N turned her head around to meet the eyes of a scrutinizing figure, almost glaring at her with lips that slowly sunk into a frown. 

She immediately looked away, annoyed by his insistence on looking at her like she was Satan.

“Is she even in proper scrubs?”

The eyes of the entire room, which was now rather packed, turned to Y/N. She looked back at him with fire in her eyes.

“I’m just a spectator from the arts department, I hope that doesn't bother you too much.” 

He gave off this perturbed hmph before sitting down in the only chair left, right between Y/N and Dan.

“Come on, Herbert, she’s nice!”

Herbert pointedly turned his head away from his roommate’s incessant whining. He didn't need to become friends with art students. What would they ever do for him? The girl would just be another squeamish failure; why should he tolerate that? He turned forward to see the skeleton model come out of the industrial closet, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl rapidly flip to a clean page in her sketchbook. ‘So unprepared.’ Herbert was aware that the few art students in the class would leave after this semester, when the lessons on bone structure and anatomy concluded. He'll be glad that his routine will be back to normal.

“Does the femur support more than the leg bones and knees?”

Herbert looked to his side again, polished shoes tapping impatiently on the white linoleum. ‘ Why was she asking such easy and insufferable questions?’ 

The professor animatedly stepped closer, leaning over her shoulder and answering intently. Herbert sighed ‘a plagiarist and a creep.’ He was getting ready to go back to his own clipboard, until he saw the professor's hands begin to get closer and closer to her hip, horror filling her already scared eyes.

“Professor! Could you assess these notes on the pelvic joints?”

It disgusted Herbert to see how he looked genuinely disappointed at the prospect of not getting to harass a young woman who looked close to tears. Dan noticed the spectacle, looking around one more time to see that everyone else was focused on their work. He gave Herbert a pointed glance, a non-verbal good job.

   ★

The students all gave their half attention to the professor when he opened up a filing cabinet, grabbing a manila folder and opening it. He handed out a copy to each student. 

“Alright then! A new semester with new students allows for another project. Since our new students hail from the arts sector, I’ve planned an art project for the class.”

‘Oh God, why?’ Herbert was well aware that he didn't have a good reputation with Dr. Hill, but failing a project would result in a significant drop in his grade; after all, art had never been his strong suit.

Dr. Hill began listing off all of the pairings, most of whom were rather excited to get to know one another.

“ And Y/N with Herbert.”

The two young adults turned around and stared at one another, shortly before Dan broke the silence.

“Just make sure you two keep it quiet.”

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

the future chapters are gonna be better

#herbert west x reader #reanimator #herbert west #horror films #horror movies #horror x reader #slasher x reader #miskatonic university #enemies to lovers #dan cain #the reanimator

[sarasa-cat]

Aahhhhhhhh stopped into a posh art supplies shop that I have been desperate to visit. Ahhhhhh. 🥰

The emotions I feel in such a shop. Makes me an absolute sucker. (credit card on fire)

When on our return visit I need to pick up some traditional gilding supplies, some very unique London-based pigments that look yummy and will make me happy when using them, and a good supply of Windsor & Newton series 7 brushes and perhaps some other kolinski sable brushes which are tricky if not to impossible to get in the US for dumbass reasons, and illegal for shops to ship into the US so I always stock up with I in Europe — except pandemic happened. All my good watercolor brushes are from pre pandemic and are in really in sad shape, particularly the tiny ones as I use lots of tiny little watercolor brushes for tiny details when working in a botanical style. Making do with nice synthetics designed by a botanical artist (shipped to me from England — Rosemary Brushes are lovely to use) but synthetics wear out faster so, yeah. They hold water a bit differently too.

Putting that big purchase off til later bc I don’t want to truck a brush bag full of brush-hair gold halfway around Europe/Asia and back again on this somewhat hectic too-many city tour (lots of business trip mixed in with other things) so waiting til I’m back here in mid January for a few final days before my sad as all hell return flight (at a godawful early AM hour why? why was that the only choice???? Crying) … oh that flight back to hell, aka the isolated edge of globe to sadsack Gaslight City, USA

Anyhow: feast your eyes on an absolute orgasm of an art shop that I love and my body is still whirring with emotion:

I can’t figure out how to include the google link that points to all the photos ppl have posted of the shop but you google fingers can find it and enjoy the ppurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. (The shop was too busy for me to be rude and take a bunch of snaps)

Oh— and I got a little kit of super granulating watercolors and I am dying to swatch them. Dying. To. Swatch. Plus high end watercolor paper for botanical art that is not available in the US.

Siggghhhhhhhhh. Still awash in pppuurrrrrring emotions.

I’m the same way in a good art museum. Paintings make me turn into a puddle of emotional oooooze.

[magnoliacharmed]

Breezy

(not my gif!)

Rob Van Dam x Fem!Reader one shot

[Also available on Archive of Our Own!]

Word count: 485

Tags: Picnics, sunsets, weed

Summary:

Prompt: Breezy | You and Rob have a picnic by the lake.

Author’s note: Prompt from @fluffyfebruary​! I’ll be posting various stories using their prompts throughout the month.

A particularly strong breeze rushed by you and Rob Van Dam as the two of you scrambled to make sure your napkins didn't float away into the sky. You both sat criss crossed on a large picnic blanket with a big basket of snacks close by. Sure you wanted to make sure you had plenty of food for the day, but the unwieldy basket also served as a cover. You and Rob craned your necks awkwardly to stare at the ground up weed below you. Your hands cupped around the little green pile as Rob quickly gathered it up to roll it into a joint. You realized how silly you two probably looked, foreheads almost touching and intense expressions on your faces. A passerby would've thought you were trying to disarm a bomb with the concentration that was being shown.

You tore your eyes away from Rob's fingers as he continued on. The breeze did feel good even if it was a little annoying. You especially liked the way it made his hair fly around him, the soft wisps of it whipping out of his ponytail. A small smile spread on your face as you returned your attention to the task in front of you.

"Okay, I think we're good." Rob's voice-- always calm, cool and collected-- hesitated slightly. He raised the perfectly rolled joint up to his lips to seal it while his large, pretty eyes stared away at you. His long lashes blinked closed while you turned away from him self-consciously.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Your fingers reached into the picnic basket for a lighter.

"You face away whenever I look at you for longer than a second."

"What can I say? You get me all shy."

Rob laughed in that laidback way you loved. His hand reached out to pass you the joint, your fingers brushing by his. No matter how many little touches you shared with him, you still got the same electric feeling you did from the very first time. The lighter was passed over to him and he attempted to strike the flint of it. Every time his finger rolled against the metal, a gust of wind extinguished it in a flash. After a few more attempts you were finally able to catch the fire. One deep inhale later, you were on Cloud 9. You placed the joint between your lips, letting it dangle as you scooted over to Rob's side. Your lips kissed against his fingers when he reached to grab it gently and take a puff. The sun was setting, washes of orange, pink, and lavender all mixing together in that watercolor painting sort of way. With the joint between his two fingers you leaned in to take another hit, then rested your head on his shoulder. Prickles of light danced against the surface of the water in a show just for you two.

#rob van dam #rob van dam x reader #rob van dam fanfic #wrestling fanfic #wrestling #wwe fanfic #wwe bret hart #wwe imagine #magnoliafanfic

[marivenah]

OC Aesthetics - Naturecore

I was tagged by a bunch of people @purplehairsecretlair @statichvm @leviiackrman @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine (and saw @adelaidedrubman do this!) thank you for the tags, beloveds!

tagging (no pressure); @natesofrellis @sstewyhosseini @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @confidentandgood @aceghosts @thomrainer @hoesephseed @lethal-justice @poeti-kat and anyone who wants to do this!

Rules: Bold what always/definitely applies to your OC, italicise what somewhat/sometimes applies, strikethrough what definitely doesn’t/never applies

did the ones I associate the most with nature in general!

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes, fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors, biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion, watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, oragami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms, shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore 

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore 

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes, fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors, biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion, watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, oragami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms, shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore 

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore 

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

#oc: paloma garcía #oc: laurie devin #I'm surprised palo got cottagecore I actually expected jungle but I like it for her! #what laurie got forest? what a surprise :o #might be the first tag game where I didn't include zoiya #I also tried to do aiden but not even he worked that well #seems like my clowns are too picky #tag game

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 4.8

oh fuck yeah flashback! This addresses something that I was thinking about with the class list last chapter: Lucy being listed as a Faerie swordfighter when we haven't actually seen her do/learn any of the fighting.

“You had another style when you dueled me, distracting the goblins from Brie Callie.  Changing weapons.”

no idea if this is the route Lucy's training is going to take, but I could see a path where the Kennet Trio, at least in combat, focuses on fluidity. Thinking back to descriptions of Verona using glamour to switch forms in mid-motion, or Avery using the rope to jump around the edges of a battle. Add in Lucy swapping weapons mid fight, and you've got an adaptable team. It's a very cool visual to me.

“You.  You specifically, there’s something else there.  You should run, you should call for help, you should be visible, you should defend yourself.  Except, for Lucy Ellingson in particular…” “Except… if you always run or walk away, if you always take that sensible course, if you defend yourself, and they, the worst people, they’re always on the offense?  Looking for fights?  It feels like I’m, we’re, ceding too much ground.”

Adds an extra layer to her frustration at having to be the practical one, urging the others to be careful when that's not what she wants either

I’ve talked with Avery at length about who she wants to end up becoming.

don't like that! especially since he's shaping both of them to be warriors

“If we had the summer I’d annoy you into breaking loose,

so the exact opposite of what she was trying to do in Ray's class

A picture.  Lucy with the fox mask on, surrounded by rolling smoke.  There were swords and daggers lying around.  It had been done in watercolor.  Her hair had pink to it.

someone has to have made fanart of this

Wary, she held out a hand, and she accepted the glamour.  It was like dust, but heavier, and it felt like cold metal that had just the edges heated by sun.

it would be very cool to wield the dangers her Sight shows her as weapons

She moved her hands with care, drawing out a sword.  It was crude and lacked detail, and the edge was wobbly.  But it more or less lined up. When she looked down, the sword was refined, accurate, detailed, with touches of rust and cracks here and there. There were others in the background, too.

UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS

For most purposes, this is something good to set up, if you have the time.  It gets faster to set up each time you do it.  If you don’t like the arena you’re fighting in, decide the arena.

so a Reality Marble? Or, if we're going PGTE instead of F/SN, a domain

Another apartment draws all the pests in the building to it. They pile up into a roughly human shape, go through their day, boot up a laptop, work an eight hour shift as tech support.

insert joke about cs/tech support here

he is in the midst of making a play for the Blue Heron Institute while simultaneously reaching out for Kennet. He thinks I have something secret and essential to my power there. A power source, a key contact, or whatever else.

wildly theorizing here, but what if Bristow is right? There are a lot of mysteries going on in Kennet, and we don't know who's behind anything. Admittedly it would be weird for any of the Kennet Others to be working with an outside practitioner, but I don't think it's out of the question

“It’s nice to be on the other side of this, as an observer while someone else is dealing with the threat of things being metaphorically set on fire,” Nicolette said.

Nicolette is great

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

[brett-is-afraid]

cc!Nikibur playlist

But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same. Rises the moon. Days fade into a watercolor blur, memories swim and haunt you. But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke. Rises the moon

I can't do these long drives sitting in the back seat, thinking 'bout that one night when the world caught fire, baby. And your eyes brightened up this dark scene. You told me I would be fine, I called you a liar. The seven seas and all the ocean tides will fall into my dreams. I'm drowning, I wish you weren't so far from me.

Tripping eyes and flooded lungs, northern downpour sends its love. Hey moon, please, forget to fall down. I missed your skin when you were east. You clicked your heels and wished for me. Through playful lips made of yarn, that fragile Capricorn, unraveled words like moths upon old scarves.

I, I, got a little paycheck. You got big plans and you gotta move. And I don't feel nothing at all, and you can't feel nothing small. Honey, I love you, that's all she wrote. Heaven help the fool who falls in love.

I can feel you lying there all on your own. We got here the hard way, all those words that we exchange. Is it any wonder things get broke? 'Cause in my heart and in my head, I'll never take back the things I said. So high above, I feel it coming down. I can't save us, my Atlantis, we fall. We built this town on shaky ground.

In a far and distant galaxy, inside my telescope I see, a pair of eyes look back at me. He walks and talks and looks like me. Sits around inside his house, from room to room he moves about. Fills his life with pointless things and wonders how it all turns out.

Mars and Venus, so far apart. Hoping, just barely hoping, bleeding and broken from open hearts. Take my hand if you can take me as I am. And take my love, if you can love me, that's enough. But don't slip away before the dawn, morning's about to come and everybody needs someone. And I'll be here waiting.

I'm the best thing you've ever seen, a karaoke teenage dream. My hair looks great and I'm a queen. You wanna grow up just like me. I'm a scaredy cat, a drowned rat. I don't wanna lose my mind, so I'll just pretend I'm fine. I get up, I get down. You should like it if you want me around. Ask me how have I been? I've been lots of ways, who am I today? I get up, I get down.

Looking out my window at the city below from my fancy hotel suite. Tell me where the wind blows, tell me how a heart knows. Where a soul can find some sleep. I can see the sunshine, breaking through the skyline, I can feel the warmth it brings. I can't help but stop and think. There's gotta be a place, love's the only way.

#nikibur #cc!nikibur #niki #wilbur #playlist #rpf #rpf safe #pro rpf #rpf playlist #brett speaks

[hepatosaurus]

national poetry month, day 21

After My Brother’s Death, I Reflect on the Iliad The water cuts out while shampoo still clogs my hair. The nurse who swabs my nose hopes I don’t have the virus, it’s a bitch. The building across from the cemetery calls itself LIFE STORAGE. My little brother was shot, I tell the barista who asks how things have been, and tip extra for her inconvenience. We speak only to the dead, someone tells me—to comfort, I assume, or inspire, but I take it literally, as I am wont: even my shut up and fuck and let’s cook tonight, those are for you, Stephen. You won’t come to me in my dreams, so I must communicate by other avenues. A friend sends an image from Cy Twombly’s “Fifty Days at Iliam” —a red bloom, the words “like a fire that consumes all before it”— and asks: Have you seen this? It’s at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. If I have, I can’t remember, though I did visit with you, when you were eleven or twelve, when you tripped silent alarm after silent alarm, skating out of each room as guards jostled in, and I—though charged with keeping you from trouble—joined the game, and the whole time we never laughed, not till we were released into the grand air we couldn’t touch and could. You are dead at twenty-two. As I rinse dishes, fumble for my keys, buy kale and radishes, in my ear Priam repeats, I have kissed the hand of the man who killed my son. Would I do that? I ask as I pass the store labelled SIGNS SIGNS. I’ve studied the mug shot of the man who killed you; I can imagine his hands. Of course I would. Each finger, even. To hold your body again. And to resurrect you? Who knows what I am capable of. If I were. Nights, I replay news footage: your blood on asphalt, sheen behind caution tape. Homer’s similes, I’ve been told, are holes cut in the cloth between the world of war and another, more peaceful world. On rereading, I find even there, a man kills his neighbor. “Let Achilles cut me down, / as soon as I have taken my son into my arms and have satisfied my desire for grief”—this, my mind’s new refrain in the pharmacy queue, in the train’s rattling frame. The same friend and I discuss a line by Zbigniew Herbert “where a distant fire is burning / like a page of the Iliad.” It’s nearly an ontological question, my friend says, the instability of reference: The fires in the pages of the poem, the literal page set afire. We see double. You are the boy in the museum. You are the body consumed, ash. Alone in a London museum, I saw a watercolor of twin flames, one black, one a gauzy red, only to learn the title is “Boats at Sea.” It’s like how sometimes I forget you’re gone. But it’s not like that, is it? Not at all. When in this world, similes carry us nowhere. And now I see again the boy pelting through those galleries a boy not you, a flash of red, red, chasing, or being chased— Or did I invent him? Mischief companion. Brother. Listen to me plead for your life though even in the dream I know you’re already dead. How do I insure my desire for grief is never satisfied? Was Priam’s ever? I tell my friend, I want the page itself to burn. —Elisa Gonzalez

#elisa gonzalez #after my brother's death i reflect on the iliad #poetry #national poetry month #npm2023 #grief