#This comic and the last one are supposed to be a set though hopefully they work on their own

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

No homo, but let's synchronize our instruments together.

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#poorly drawn mdzs #MDZS #season 1 #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan qiren #wwx gets a new outfit! which he doesn't keep for long because we are just about to hit all the flashback content #This comic and the last one are supposed to be a set though hopefully they work on their own #I hope it captures the chaos of the lan juniors. #also please for the love of god I hope it reads as one cursed arm rapidly flying about and not 4 limbs slapping Ye Ol'Uncle Lan around #so far in the script i have LQR doesn't show up past this scene so...sorry LQR fans #I don't know how to draw an absence of something but I hope you guys know its canon in this universe than his ass is *so* flat #the lan qiren big naturals are for another world....

[cyren-myadd]

Avatar One-Shot: Child Support

As the clone of the late Miles Stephen Quaritch, the recombinant Miles is the legal beneficiary of all of his genetic donor’s property, wealth, and rank. Unfortunately, he’s also the legal beneficiary of his debts. This includes the fifteen years worth of child support for Miles Socorro.

The day started out just like any other day during Spider’s captivity in Bridgehead. Quaritch collected him from his “room” (AKA, the cell Quaritch had added a few amenities to after Spider started cooperating with him) and brought him to the cafeteria so he could eat before they set off to continue the recoms’ survival training in the jungle. The other recoms had already eaten and were off doing whatever it was they did when Quaritch wasn’t bossing them around, leaving Spider to shoulder all of his early morning bossiness alone.

“Get your hair out of your face, boy. And don’t pick at your food, just eat it.” Quaritch ordered impatiently while Spider prodded the contents of his plate. The brown lumps before him were allegedly some kind of sausage, but Spider didn’t trust the RDA’s menu anymore than he trusted their propaganda about wanting to “build a peaceful future with the Na’vi.” A group of scientists walked past with their breakfast trays in hand, and Spider eyed the large cinnamon rolls on their plates in envy. Their sweet fragrance taunted him as the scientists sat down nearby.

“This stuff is nasty. Can I have one of those things instead?” He pointed to the frosted pastries hopefully.

Unsurprisingly, Quaritch dashed his hopes by nudging the plate of “sausage” under his nose. “The last thing you need for breakfast is a bunch of sugary shit. You need protein.”

“Uhg.” Spider slouched miserably onto the cafeteria table and rested his head on his arm. 

“And sit up straight for Christ’s sake, you look like you’re falling asleep.”

“I am falling asleep,” Spider mumbled into his elbow.

Quaritch opened his mouth —to boss him around some more no doubt— but before he could say anything, a loud BANG! interrupted him. Both of them jumped in their seats and whipped around to see the source of the noise; somebody had slammed open the cafeteria door so hard it’d nearly been knocked clean off its hinges, and that somebody was marching straight towards them. All the RDA personnel in the cafeteria stared at him in varying shades of annoyance and curiosity.

“Miles Quaritch!” Hollered the man who’d caused all the ruckus.

Spider’s eyes went wide. He knew that voice. “No fucking way,” he hissed under his breath. Never in a million years had he thought he’d ever see him again.

“I got a bone to pick with you!” The man, who was wearing the obnoxiously bright orange uniform of the mining crew, stormed right up to Quaritch like he owned the place. Everyone around them stared. Spider leaned around Quaritch to try and catch his eye, but the man wouldn’t so much as glance at him. All of his attention was on Quaritch. It was a comical sight. Spider would’ve laughed if he wasn’t too busy wishing he would look at him. Even though Quaritch perched awkwardly on the cafeteria bench that was much too small for him, the man still had to crane his neck to meet his gaze.

Quaritch looked down at the angry little man with an odd expression on his face, like he couldn’t decide if he was more irritated or amused by this interruption. Luckily for the man, Quaritch’s amusement won out in the end and he gave him a smile that was only half sarcastic. “If you got a bone to pick with Miles Quaritch, you’ve come to the right place. Now who might you be?”

“My name is Nash McCosker.” He huffed and crossed his arms, watching Quaritch’s face for a reaction. Clearly, his name was supposed to mean something to Quaritch, because he looked even more irritated when he didn’t react at all.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCosker.” Quaritch replied dryly. “I reckon I don’t need to introduce myself since you already seem to know who I am, so I’ll introduce you to my, ah… translator. This here is Spider. Say hello, Spider.”

He nudged him with his knee, but Spider didn’t say hello; he didn’t think he could even if he’d wanted to. His mouth was as dry as the land around Bridgehead, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Spider stared silently at McCosker, waiting for him to say something or look at him or do anything to acknowledge his presence. Even with Quaritch making an effort to introduce him, McCosker still wouldn’t even glance at him. He might as well have been a complete stranger. The silent rejection stung like a slap and Spider’s breath caught in his throat. His legs bounced in place, itching to move. Part of him wanted to march right up to McCosker and smack that stupid mustache off his face while another part of him wanted to run so far away he’d never have to hear his voice again. But Spider didn’t dare do any of that with Quaritch breathing down his neck, so instead he settled for clenching his fists and glaring at the floor. If McCosker wanted to act like he didn’t care about him, then fine! Spider didn’t care about him either! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quaritch’s ears flatten back at his reaction, but if it bothered him he didn’t say anything.

The silence stretched from awkward to downright uncomfortable, and Quaritch seemed to accept he wasn’t going to get a proper salutation out of Spider anytime soon. “Eh, sorry about that. This one’s not much for manners.”

McCosker scoffed. “Heh. Tell me about it.”

All of Spider’s resolve to pretend he didn’t care evaporated in an instant. “You—!“ he hissed as he lunged to his feet, and McCosker recoiled with his fists raised. Fortunately for McCosker, Spider didn’t get any further than that because Quaritch put a hand on his chest and pushed him right back into his seat. “Whoa! Easy, there!”

The reaction came so quickly that Quaritch only could’ve been expecting it. He kept one hand securely on Spider and with the other he gestured for McCosker to relax. Spider shoved his oversized hand off him with a snarl, but didn’t bother with trying to stand again. He crossed his arms and glared at the next table over. The group of scientists seated at the table suddenly became very interested in their plates.

“Alright, would either of you like to explain to me what the hell is going on here?” Quaritch asked as he looked between the two of them. The novelty of the situation was wearing off quick and Quaritch was going from amusement to irritation even quicker.

“Look, sir, I’m not looking for trouble.” McCosker must’ve sensed the danger in Quaritch’s mood, because he switched to a much politer tone. “I’m just looking to get what I’m owed.”

“Uh-huh. And what exactly is that?”

Before McCosker could answer, the sound of rapid footsteps made all three of them look up. A man in a suit rushed towards them from the same door as McCosker. He clutched a haphazard binder full of papers to his chest that sent the occasional loose sheet fluttering into the air behind him.

“Hello, everyone, sorry I’m late.” He said breathlessly as he arrived at their table. “I tried to keep up with you, Mr. McCosker, but you took off so fast I got left in the dust, heh, heh.” He chuckled awkwardly before clearing his throat. “Good morning, Colonel. My name is Mr. Ford. I’m from the HR department and I will be mediating this agreement between you and Mr. McCosker today.” Mr. Ford offered his hand for Quaritch to shake, but Quaritch ignored it and narrowed his eyes.

“An agreement for what exactly?”

Mr. Ford lowered his arm and jammed it into his pocket. “Well, you see, sir, as the clone of the late Miles Stephen Quaritch, you are the legal beneficiary of all of your genetic donor’s property, wealth, and rank. You know this, correct?”

“Yes, this was all explained to me when I decanted. And?” Quaritch prompted impatiently.

“Of course you already know!” Mr. Ford fidgeted nervously. “But are you aware that you also inherit any and all debts belonging to Miles Quaritch?”

At that, Quaritch’s ears twitched back against his skull. “No… I don’t think that was ever mentioned. But I didn’t— I mean— him, the original Quaritch— he didn’t have any debt when he died, so why does this matter?”

“Well, not quite, sir. You see, your, eh, predecessor, left behind a child when he died.” He glanced at Spider and gave him an awkward smile that went unreturned. “And as I’m sure you’re well aware, children take a lot of time and effort to care for— a lot of labor, if you will, and I think we can all agree that so much hard labor ought to be fairly compensated for, so, well, you see, um—“

The more Mr. Ford stammered, the stonier Quaritch’s expression grew. “Get to the point already.”

“Mr. McCosker wants to be financially compensated for raising Miles Socorro!” He blurted out in a rush.

Spider scoffed loudly and Quaritch’s face pinched in confusion. “I’m sorry— what?” He turned to McCosker with narrowed eyes. “Who did you say you were again?”

“I’m Nash McCosker. I was one of the people who chose to stay on Pandora after Sully went native on us. Since your kid was too young to go back, somebody had to look after him, and that somebody was me! I raised him for fourteen years! Fourteen years! And now I want what I’m owed!”

Quaritch shook his head in disbelief. “I ain’t calling you a liar, McCosker, but this whole time I’ve been under the impression that this kid was raised by the natives.”

“He wasn’t. Me and my wife bent over backwards to give him the most normal childhood possible.”

“Are you seriously telling me that this boy was raised by two humans?”

“Yes!” McCosker snapped. “You think I’m lying, huh? What reason do you have not to believe me?”

“What reason do I—?” Quaritch repeated incredulously before pointing at Spider. “Fucking look at him!”

For the first time in over a year, McCosker looked his foster son in the eyes— the boy he’d raised and left behind for a chance to rejoin the RDA. Spider bared his teeth and hissed. He looked close to lunging at him again.

“Does this boy look like he was raised by humans to you? Heh?” Asked Quaritch.

“I know how he looks, but that doesn’t change the fact that you owe me fourteen years of child support!” McCosker yelled so forcefully that he sent up a spray of spittle.

“Please calm down, gentlemen!” Mr. Ford cried.

“Is he serious?” Quaritch asked him with the barest hint of a snarl in his voice.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, sir.” Said Mr. Ford. He clutched his overstuffed binder to his chest as if it would protect him if Quaritch decided to attack. “If he’s telling the truth, then, legally speaking, you do owe him child support. The RDA is willing to enforce this if we can confirm his claim.”

Quaritch hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is unbelievable. Are you seriously trying to make me pay for something that happened while I wasn’t alive? And what do you mean, confirm his claim?”

“Well, that’s the other thing. We can only enforce child support if it’s proven that Nash McCosker did indeed raise Miles Socorro for fourteen years, and we obviously don’t have any legal record of what’s happened on Pandora since the RDA left. So I need some kind of confirmation that McCosker is telling the truth before we can proceed.”

McCosker frowned at Mr. Ford, looking as equally confused as Quaritch. Apparently, this was the first time he’d heard this too.

“What kind of confirmation do you need?” Quaritch asked.

“Well…” in answer, Mr. Ford simply nodded his head behind Quaritch. In tandem, both Quaritch and McCosker slowly turned to look at where Spider sat sulking in the cafeteria chair. He slouched back with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Spider looked up at Quaritch, whose ears were pinned back in irritation, then over to McCosker, whose face flushed pink from anger. The whole cafeteria went silent, everyone waiting to see what Spider would say.

After a long pause, Spider straightened up in his seat and stared directly at McCosker. “I’ve never met that man before in my life.”

“What?” The word exploded out of McCosker so loudly that his voice cracked. His face went straight from pink to firetruck red in a matter of moments, and a prominent vein throbbed at his temple.

“He’s lying!” He roared, pointing an accusatory finger at Spider, who shrugged innocently. “You don’t actually believe him, right? I had him under my roof for fourteen years! You can’t throw the money away just because he’s lying about it!”

Mr. Ford backed away from McCosker with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCosker. If you cannot prove you raised him, then the HR department cannot enforce your claim.”

Quaritch smirked. He looked an awful lot like a cat that was proud of itself for making a mess. “You heard the man, McCosker. It was a real pleasure meeting you, but me and the kid gotta get going now.”

“No!” Protested McCosker as Quaritch and Spider got up to leave. When Quaritch’s back was turned, Spider sneakily flipped him off before scurrying after Quaritch like he hadn’t done anything. That was the last straw for McCosker.

“You ungrateful little shit!” He howled, spittle flying everywhere. Before anyone knew what was happening, McCosker lunged at Spider, his hands going straight for his throat. They collided, and Spider stumbled back into Quaritch’s legs. Quaritch whipped around with a startled hiss. He moved to pull McCosker off of Spider, but before he could get a hand on him, Spider had already taken care of it. Snarling just as fiercely as any Na’vi, Spider shoved McCosker off him. He staggered back, almost losing his footing from the force of the shove. Before he could recover, Spider punched him in the jaw so hard his head snapped back like a bobblehead. Then he hit him with a kick that knocked him clean off his feet. McCosker collapsed on his back. Blood flowed from his slack-jawed mouth. He hacked and wheezed, then spat something small into his hands: a tooth.

For a moment, McCosker stared in shock at his tooth, before glaring up at Spider. “I hope they execute you, you damn race traitor!”

“Fuck you!” Spider screamed back as he lunged toward the fallen man.

Quaritch was still frozen where he’d moved to protect Spider from McCosker. Now he realized he actually needed to protect McCosker from Spider.

“Stop!” He ordered, but it fell on deaf ears. Spider managed to get in another vicious punch before Quaritch grabbed him around the middle and hauled him off the ground. “Spider, that’s enough!”

A few bystanders who also wore orange mining crew uniforms rushed over to McCosker to help him to his feet. They ended up holding him back instead when he tried to lunge for Spider again. He yelled at him, blood and saliva dripping down his chin and mingling in his facial hair. “You’re gonna get exactly what’s coming to you, you fucking bastard! Nobody wanted you around and nobody will miss you when you’re gone!”

“Fuck you!” Spider screamed again. He thrashed so hard in Quaritch’s grip that it was a struggle to hold onto him without hurting him.

Quaritch hauled him away from McCosker and back towards the entrance to the cafeteria. He roughly set him on the ground and shook him. “Get a hold of yourself, boy! There are cameras in here.”

Spider grit his teeth, his breath coming out in short, angry hisses, but he finally stopped fighting against him. His eyes went to the corners of the ceiling and sure enough, there were multiple cameras trained on the unfolding drama. The idea of Ardmore watching him jump an RDA employee after Quaritch had promised he would behave himself sent a chill down his spine.

“C’mon, let’s take a walk.” Quaritch never took his hand off Spider’s shoulder as he marched him out of the cafeteria. The mining crew hauled McCosker in the opposite direction, screaming curses and death wishes at Spider the whole while. Mr. Ford had made himself scarce a long time ago. Every set of eyes in the cafeteria was trained on Spider. Now that the tunnel vision from his anger had faded, he was painfully aware of all the stares and whispers. He looked down at his feet, letting his thick dreads hide his face from view.

“Alright!” Quaritch barked at the crowd of onlookers. “Show’s over, folks, there’s nothing else to see here.”

All it took was one look from Quaritch to send everyone’s eyes back to their plates. Quaritch marched Spider through Bridgehead’s cold, twisting hallways before pulling him into a small room used for storage. It was so small that Quaritch had to crouch to fit inside, but at least they had some privacy. Spider paced as much as he could in the small space, his hands clenched in trembling fists. Quaritch sat back in a corner of the storage room and watched him pace with an unreadable expression on his face.

CLANG! Without warning, Spider punched a nearby crate as hard as he could, leaving a small dent behind in the cheap metal. His knuckles came away bloody, but he was too angry to care.

“I hate that son of a bitch!” He yelled, and he moved to punch another crate, but Quaritch grabbed his arm.

“Hey, don’t go messing all these boxes up.”

“Get the fuck off me, asshole!” Spider hissed. As soon as he said it, he immediately regretted it.

Quaritch’s eyes narrowed. “I’m gonna let that slide ‘cause I know you’re upset, but you better not use that tone of voice with me, young man. Now, try again.”

Spider closed his eyes and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Then in a much calmer voice, he said, “please let go of me.”

“That’s better.” Quaritch made a big show of releasing his arm and leaning back to give him space.

Spider bounced on the balls of his feet and tried to look anywhere but Quaritch. Anger buzzed under his skin like a nest of hornets, filling him with a restless energy. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He wanted to hit something. Preferably McCosker’s face.

As if reading his mind, Quaritch raised his hands and extended them so his palms were facing Spider at shoulder height. “Here. You wanna hit something, put ‘er there.”

“What? But why would I—?” Spider shuffled a few steps back.

“Aw, relax, tiger, it’s not like you’re gonna hurt me. C’mon, gimme that same southpaw you gave the prick in the cafeteria.”

After another moment of hesitation, Spider half-heartedly hit Quaritch’s palm.

Quaritch scoffed. “You call that a punch?”

He hit him again, harder this time.

“C’mon, you can do better than that!”

This time, Spider put his whole body behind the punch, just like when he’d knocked McCosker’s tooth out.

“Atta boy! Now gimme a right hook!”

Spider punched Quaritch’s fists again and again, the dull thud of flesh against flesh driving away the angry buzz under his skin. Once he didn’t feel like he wanted to hunt McCosker down and knock the rest of his teeth out anymore, Quaritch stopped. The absence of anger left him feeling oddly hollow.

Quaritch whistled appreciatively, massaging his sore palms. “You could’ve been a boxer in another life, kid! Woulda been the next Muhammed Ali!”

Spider wasn’t sure what that meant, but he could tell from his tone that it was a compliment. He looked down and scuffed his heel against the floor, unsure of how to react to the praise.

“So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?” Quaritch probed.

“I… lied. I actually do know that man.” He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he spoke.

Quaritch snorted. “I figured that much, kid. Who is he?”

“He was my foster father— er, he was supposed to be. He was alright when I was little far as I can remember, but after his kids were born, well… I dunno how to explain it. I still lived with him and his family— slept in their home, ate their food and all that— I was never neglected or anything— but it was like I was a guest or something. I was just… there.” Spider shrugged casually, like it didn’t bother him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at Quaritch. He wanted to stop talking. Any information he let slip now could be used to manipulate him later. He knew he should stop talking, but for some reason he didn’t. These were thoughts he’d never voiced aloud to anyone, not even Kiri, and for some reason they came spilling out of him in front of Quaritch of all people. “It’s why I spent so much time in the forest instead of with the other humans. Some of the Na’vi didn’t want me around, but my friends did.”

Spider fiddled with the songcord on his belt, rubbing his fingers over three beautiful blue beads; they represented the day he’d befriended Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak. “They actually cared about me, you know?”

Okay, skxwang, you’ve said enough, stop talking now. His brain screamed, but it was drowned out by his traitorous mouth. He continued spilling his guts to an insane Na’vi-killer. “And then when the RDA came back, Ardmore offered the humans a deal to rejoin them, and McCosker wanted to take it. I wanted to stay with the Na’vi, but the grown-ups forced me to go with him. And the crazy thing was, I was actually gonna suck it up and go with him until my friends came back. But then McCosker captured them. He was gonna turn them in to Ardmore in exchange for a better deal. That fucking bastard. Mr. Sully trusted him and let him go back to the RDA with no hard feelings and he betrayed him—” if Quaritch scoffed at that, Spider pretended not to hear it.

“So I helped ‘em all escape. We busted outta there and found Mr. Sully. He wanted me to turn myself in to the RDA ‘cause he thought I would slow them down—” Quaritch made another noise in the back of his throat that almost sounded angry, but Spider ignored it too, “but I proved him wrong! I ran twice as hard as everyone else and I kept up. We all got away safe and sound.” The memory made Spider’s chest puff out in pride, and he almost felt good enough to look Quaritch in the eyes again, but then he remembered everything that came after that and he deflated.

“Anyway, after that, I thought I was never gonna see McCosker again, until… you know, until today.” Spider scuffed his feet against the ground once more. To his horror, his eyes started to prickle with unshed tears. He stubbornly blinked them away before they could fall. “It’s stupid. When I saw him, for a second I thought he was gonna— gonna— I don’t even know. Do something other than ask for money, I guess. But that was stupid. He only talked to me when he had to before he left so I don’t know why I thought he would be different now and—”

THUD! The sudden sound of flesh against metal startled Spider so much he finally looked up at Quaritch. He’d punched one of the metal crates, leaving a larger, deeper indent just above where Spider’s smaller hand had punched it earlier. When Quaritch pulled his hand away, his knuckles were bloody, just like Spider’s. Now they matched. If Quaritch cared or even noticed the blood, he gave no sign of it. He stared blankly at Spider, as if looking through him rather than at him, his face twisted into a rictus of fury. There was so much pure vitriol in his eyes that Spider physically recoiled. His back hit the wall and he slid as far away from him as he could in the tiny storage space. Oh great. Now he’d done it. All his rambling had pissed him off and now he looked angry enough to murder.

“Whoa, I’m sorry!” Spider blurted out quickly.

Quaritch blinked and his eyes snapped back into focus, now looking at Spider instead of through him. “Why?”

“For pissing you off, I didn’t mean to start talking so much, I just—”

“Oh,” Quaritch’s eyebrows pulled up out of their angry scowl and he stared at the dent he’d left in the crate like he didn’t remember making it. He took in the way Spider recoiled away from him and his demeanor instantly changed, all aggression leaving his body. “Wait, kid, no, I ain’t mad at you. Relax. I was mad about something else.”

Spider eyed his bloodied knuckles warily. “You sure?”

“I promise.” He put his palms up to show he meant no harm. “You did nothing wrong today. It sounds like that guy had it coming. I don’t want you worrying about him anymore, you hear me? If he comes round again I’ll put him in his place.”

“Okay… thank you.”

Quaritch tilted his head to the side. “What are you thanking me for?”

Once again, Spider found himself unable to look Quaritch in the eye. What was he thanking him for? The man had kidnapped him for crying out loud, the last thing he owed him was an apology! In the end, all he did was shrug.

“You don’t know? Well, that’s funny, cause I’m the one who oughta be thanking you.” Quaritch gently reached out and brushed a knuckle under Spider’s chin, hard enough to nudge his head up, but still light enough so Spider could pull away if he wanted to. When Spider reluctantly made eye contact with him, Quaritch smiled— it was a real one this time, not like the mean, sarcastic ones he’d given McCosker.

“You just saved me from giving a shit-ton of money to that asshole.” He said with a slight laugh in his voice.

Even though Spider still felt pretty shitty, he smiled back and shoved Quaritch’s hand away from his chin. “I didn’t do it for you, skxwang, I did it to spite him!”

“Well, I’m thanking you for it anyway!” Chuckled Quaritch. “And you know what, I think I owe you a little something now.”

Spider watched on curiously as Quaritch reached into his side pockets and withdrew two little bundles wrapped up in napkins. When he unfolded the napkins and offered them to Spider, he was delighted to see two cinnamon rolls. He must’ve snagged them as they were leaving the cafeteria when Spider wasn’t looking. The gesture made Spider’s eyes widen. Usually Kiri was the only person who took note of Spider’s favorite foods and went out of her way to give him some when he was feeling down. Even McCosker had never done anything like that, and he’d raised Spider for fourteen years.

“You gonna just stare at it or are you gonna eat it?” Quaritch asked. He telegraphed his movements as if he were going to take the rolls back, but before he could, Spider snatched them out of his hand.

“Mmm!” Spider wasted no time sinking his teeth into a cinnamon roll. Sweet sugary icing and spice exploded on his tongue; it tasted even better than it smelled. He would always prefer natural Pandoran food to Earth food, but if he had to pick a favorite from Earth, it was definitely this.

“Don’t inhale it all at once now!” Quaritch laughed as he watched him scarf it down. “We’re not in a rush. Just make sure you eat it all before we go meet up with the others. If Wainfleet sees it he’s gonna want on too.”

“Mm-hm!” Spider nodded through a mouthful of pastry.

For some reason, eating the cinnamon roll made him feel instantly better, which was odd. Spider had never been a comfort-food kind of person. Maybe the human chefs put some strange magic in their cinnamon rolls. Or —as he looked up at Quaritch, another idea occurred to him— maybe it had less to do with the roll, and more with the fact that Quaritch had thought to give it to him.

#but lets be for real right now if quaritch owes anyone child support its probably jake which is fucking hilarious #spider socorro #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #avatar quaritch #atwow #avatar #avatar the way of traumatizing spider #avatar the way of water #ao3 #avatar fanfiction #avatar spider

[losingherface]

The Flowers part. 1

Ellie x fem reader

warnings: small mention of violence i guess?

info: Ellie’s been receiving flowers with letters attached to them every day on her porch.

Ellie’s POV•

It was another afternoon, the hot spring air was in full force and all I wanted to do was get back and read a new comic I picked up on the way.

It was an old comic with the photos nearly smeared away but the bold letters still clear. I wiped away the sweat off my forehead and walk up to the porch of my small yet cozy little home. On the porch I noticed a bouquet of flowers. Some were sunflowers, some were tulips and one of them was a rose, all tied up with a piece of yarn and a folded paper inside.

The look on my face was confused, flattered and scared at the same time.

I unfold the letter and it reads:

Ellie, I wanted to hand this to you personally but then that would reveal who I am and honestly that’s the last thing I want. Sort of. Anyways, when you left for patrol yesterday, you left your boots out on the porch and one of our dogs started running through town with it. I caught him and smelled the inside of your boot. Yes. The inside. How else would I know who to return it to? So I recognized that familiar smell. Remember Karaoke night? Everyone in town was there and it was really fun. Well, I was there too and I was getting some beer when I noticed you walking in with Joel. You were wearing a blue flannel and you hardly looked my way. I got my beer (tasted amazing by the way!) and walked past you. I actually walked past you a few times that night, still you were focused on the beautiful Dina. Anyways, you smelled really good and unique. A minty and woody smell I suppose. It’s unique to me because how could you smell that great when soap bars are only collected, if you’re lucky, on patrol? Anyways, I hope you love the flowers, I picked them out myself because I can’t get you out of my head. I hope you don’t think I’m weird or a stalker, I’m completely harmless. Well, I gotta get back now to the farm, hope we talk soon.

Kisses, Someone you could know.

I feel a chill on my shoulder. Was someone watching me? I glance all around me like i’m in a horror movie and rush inside. I wasn’t paranoid, but then again I was…The flowers were beautiful though. I set up a tall rusted cup on the counter and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside and the note beside it.

I laid on the bed and pondered about who this could be? There was plenty of women in town, plenty my age so it was tricky. Hopefully it wasn’t a man. God please don’t let it be a man.

•

The next morning, I woke up, a random silhouette of a woman on a my mind still wondering who she could be. I showered and got dressed for in-town work.

As I opened my door, I see Dina attempting to knock on my door.

“Good morning!” She says

I look at her suspiciously…can’t be Dina. Her handwriting is much messier than that.

“Good morning. Quick question, are you fuckin with me?”

Dina slightly tilts her head. I walk inside and grab the note, showing it to her.

“Aweee you have a secret admirer.” She says in singsong voice.

“It’s driving me crazy. It was on my porch. Whoever this is thinks we’re together..by the way.”

“Oh…..well you should write a note back. Tape it to your door. Or wherever they leave their notes. And I’m hungry, I was here to invite you to brunch with Jesse and I. You in?”

“I’ve got some work to do with Maria and Joel. So…maybe tomorrow?”

Dina nodded and I walked her out of the house. As I step outside, my boot steps on a paper. This person just left a note on my porch and is probably watching me right now. Probably saw me walk Dina out of the house.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m trying to make this person know that Dina and I weren’t together but we weren’t. She loved Jesse. Did I have a small crush on her, yes. But it subsided in a few weeks.

This time, only a single flower was attached to the letter. I grabbed it and walked back inside.

The letter this time said:

Ellie, I saw you yesterday afternoon. You looked stressed and hot. Like the temperature not hot like you’re gorgeous- even though you are gorgeous, I wouldn’t call you hot, you’re way too beautiful for that simple description. Okay so, while I was watching you- not in a stalker kind of way, just in a I happened to be there kind of way, I was knitting with Maria and she told me about the first time you two met. She doesn’t know I have a crush on you but she knows I would like to get to know you. She keeps telling me to just go and talk to you but it’s hard!!!!! I feel so insecure every time I see you with Dina, I feel like I could never live up to that. I wish you knew who I was and I wish we talked. I have a question for you to think about: How would you want me to reveal myself? Do you want me to reveal myself?

Kisses, Someone you could know.

I rushed to my art desk and grabbed a pen and a separate sheet of paper. I wrote a letter back to this person. My letter said:

Yes! Please reveal yourself, but be smart, I won’t hesitate to blow your head off. But if you’re sweet, we can talk for sure. SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE!

Sincerely, Ellie!

I didn’t bother folding the paper and instead taped it to the same spot I found this person’s letter on my porch.

I finally walked in silence to Maria’s place and got to work. I wanted to ask Maria about it but I was sort of into her revealing herself to me. Plus, a name meant nothing, I didn’t know many people in town so this was new to me. Guess we would just have to wait & see.

•

•

A/n: Hehe ^_^ i love this idea! Anywayys part two coming soon i love itttttt btw story hits different when you listen to The flowers by regina spektor <3

#the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

Manfred von Karma: For Real This Time

Hookay, got the fluffy poetry out of my system. Now it's time to break down Manfred in scientific terms - his role in Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright, why he works and perhaps some shortcomings as well. This will be formatted similarly to my Damon Gant analysis, though hopefully more well structured (and much, MUCH longer lol). Bare with me on this!

The Build-Up

First, CONTEXT!

By Case 1-4, chances are you've built yourself up pretty high. You've matched Edgeworth - the "Demon Prosecutor" - twice in succession, having to deal with non-cooperative police and systemic corruption all the way through. Both Redd White and Dee Vasquez may have had their share of strings to pull but you managed to cut both down in the end. They were shaky wins though, so there's still room for you to be afraid of what comes next.

Case 1-4 shakes things up massively; Edgeworth is framed for murder, the police seemingly have no leads, and your own investigation comes short of being able to figure anything out. But... who's prosecuting the case if not Edgeworth? A new prosecutor? Payne, even?

Enter; Manfred von Karma. As mentioned in my Gant post, he is built up to mythic proportions before you even step in the court. 40 years undefeated. 10-20 times as ruthless as Edgeworth. He is spoken in godlike terms, and by Edgeworth himself no less! By the time you see him, you're already dreading what you're about to face with so little evidence or leads to back you up. And the first thing he actually does?

Shut the Judge right down. The Judge! The guy who - dim as he is - is supposed to be the one calling the shots! And he holds on to that control for the rest of the trial before Udgey finally stands up for himself when Nick requests Lotta to testify again. Even still, you are no closer to proving Edgeworth innocent than you were before - you just bought time with the only contradiction you could find.

As far as first impressions go, Manfred is nothing short of perfect - winding up the tension until striking you as hard and fast as they can with this monster of a prosecutor before you even have the chance to collect your thoughts.

The Character

Now, this is where Manfred gets a ding on his otherwise spotless record, because... He's honestly not that interesting as a character.

Most of his character comes down to being a perfectionist - he's willing to do whatever is necessary to maintain what he sees to be a perfect life. When someone disrupts that perfection - say, Gregory getting him penalised for falsified evidence - it's enough to send the man into a murderous vendetta that will last long after you are dead, and paid back by your descendants. Hell, he tazed Nick and Maya for so much as daring to spoil his perfect victory when they reveal the note he wrote (good going btw Phoenix... you'd think he'd have learned by then). He doesn't get many chances to be humanised in AA1 though; he is presented to you as a monster and stays that way through to the end.

Terrifying to a capital T and a worthy final boss, but he's no Damon Gant or Godot as far as personality or motive goes. He does what he does because he is obsessed with his idea of perfection, from his actions in court and his abuse towards his children/protégé Franziska and Miles. There aren't too many other gears spinning in his head beyond that.

He's more a presence, a force of nature, than a character with the same depth or humanity as Edgeworth before him or Damon Gant after. I won't say that's a bad thing necessarily though! For what the story is aiming for, a pure-evil villain in a lavish suit does the job well enough. It helps that Edgeworth carries the majority of the character growth so that his mentor can mostly coast off his fear factor alone and get by well-regarded anyhow. Plus, he's not above being as comical as every other Ace Attorney character - see his ATM number line for my go-to example of him being an absolute cartoon.

"I set my ATM number to '0001', because I am number 1!"

You'd almost be endeared by his supervillain ego if he wasn't making you soil yourself all the way through the case.

The Impact

DL-6. This event defines almost the entirety of Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright - it's hinted at as early as Case 1-2, likely the reason why your mentor Mia was murdered by Redd White and why the Fey clan is in such shambles in recent days. It's the reason Edgeworth is such a cold, ruthless person, as it stripped him of his father and put him in Manfred's iron grasp. That event ruined the life of an otherwise innocuous bailiff, to the point where he was willing to kill his former attorney to frame the child he was convinced was actually guilty all along. DL-6 was a defining event for a lot of characters and the ripples of that case continue to affect them up to and after Case 1-4.

And it likely never would have happened if not for Manfred.

A man so consumed by his ideas of perfection, he decided 15 years ago, in that moment, to set in motion a chain of events that would weigh on everyone in proximity; From Misty Fey to Maya, Mia and Nick, from Gregory to Miles, from Yani Yogi to everyone he had to push away to keep his façade going. Had Gregory not been murdered that day, Miles likely would have continued on his path to follow in his fathers footsteps. He, Phoenix and Larry may have kept in touch instead of suddenly breaking off contact under Manfred's wing. Hell, Phoenix himself may not have become a defence attorney at all! He was more likely to have been an artist as Trials and Tribulations would reveal if not for this one event.

The name "Manfred von Karma" is synonymous with this event. The lengths he went to in order to hide his involvement - up to and including framing Miles, taking him in as his own, and keeping a bullet wound untreated for 15 years - ensured that none of these threads would be resolved by the time they dealt serious damage to everyone involved in the resulting trial. Though, as with any Ace Attorney culprit, his cover-ups leave a trail of lies we can trace all the way back to him. The only downside is that he's more than used to playing dirty to get the result he wants - resulting in a case that starts out as hopelessly as possible and continues to be so, up until Yani Yogi decides enough is enough and confesses his involvement.

Huh. In hindsight, Yani might have inadvertently gotten his own back against Manfred for essentially ruining his life. Don't think he expected us to nab him for DL-6, but a victory is a victory!

I could go on and on, especially regarding Miles and Franziska, but wiser people than I have spilled their guts on those two and it would be much, much too long a post otherwise. It's important to cover everything, but it's more-so to know when something is done. So I will leave with this;

Manfred von Karma is a simple meal well made - a pure-evil villain with more than enough menace and deeds to carry him through the final case of Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright. It's easier to get something right when there's not much to get wrong, and as far as simple villains like this go?

I dare say he's nothing short of perfect.

Almost perfect.

Really, who shouts their ATM number in the middle of a packed courtroom....?!?!

EDIT: As mentioned in another post, I had mistakenly assumed Phoenix was pursuing a prosecution career for some time. This post mentions the same misconception which has been removed for accuracy's sake. Sorry bout that!

#ace attorney #ace attorney phoenix wright #manfred von karma #dl 6 incident #gregory edgeworth #miles edgeworth #yani yogi #misty fey #redd white #character analysis #karma posting...? #nah don't think we'll be doing that.

[ryuseiired]

Hello I would like to ask you which ryuseitai stories you’d recommend? I want to like them more but I don’t know them very well so I thought understanding them as a unit and as characters may help with my goal, have a lovely day!!

Hi Anon, thank you so much for the ask! I'm kind of honored you'd ask me about this actually... this got a bit long so I've put it under a read more cut, but under that I have written out what I'd recommend as a reading guide to Ryuseitai... keep in mind I wouldn't consider myself a definitive expert on this and a lot of my recommended stories/reading order is just opinion! But hopefully this helps you out ❤️ I've also included links to translations/notes on where to find stories.

So! The first story I'd start with for Ryuseitai is Supernova. This is just overall a good introduction to the unit, it shows off their respective characters and early dynamics with each other starting out really well IMO. This is also the Ryuseitai story the anime chooses to adapt so that sort of backs me up on this as an intro I suppose haha.

After that I'd recommend some of the other lighter event stories from ! era, like School Festival 4 or Sweet Halloween. School Festival 4 has a bit of everyone, like Supernova! It's just a fun read that again helps get a better read on the early Ryuseitai dynamics. Sweet Halloween is also a Ra*bits story and has some cute Hajime and Tomoya interactions, as a bonus if you like them, but on the Ryuseitai side it focuses largely on Chiaki. Ryuseitai as a unit benefits from having a dedicated translator for it, so I get to include links for basically every story here which is nice!

I'd also rec Orihime and Hikoboshi, which is Ryuseitai's Tanabata Festival story shared with Trickstar! It's got some really nice interactions with Shinobu and Mao (they are friends and it's sooo sweet), and some... tense but narratively interesting interactions between Midori and Subaru. And as a bonus, Chiaki and Kanata are not the focus here and don't show up for a lot of the story, but I think the interactions they do get in this story are very silly.

(I'd also recommend: Scroll of the Elements if you're enjoying Shinobu, which is a shared story with Akatsuki that focuses on him and Souma. Buddy is also a cute gacha story focusing on Chiaki, and Christmas Live is more a 2wink story than a Ryuseitai story, but has some cute moments for Ryuseitai in it, especially featuring Shinobu and Tetora's friendships with Yuta and Hinata respectively. You can get away with skipping these, though.)

Climax is Ryuseitai's Repayment Festival story, and is the second-to-last ! era story I'd say is "required reading" for them. This one focuses a lot on Midori, and is really important for his character development, but by the nature of being set before graduation it's got moments for everyone.

Lastly... Meteor Impact, the one everyone knows about because it's a bit famous in the fanbase. This one is a longer and heavier read than just about anything else I've recommended so far, as it's Ryuseitai's Reminiscence story focusing on Chiaki and Kanata during the War. It's important to read this last. It gets hyped up a lot, and people get excited for you to read it, but it loses a lot of its impact if you haven't read at least some other Ryuseitai stories first. Take your time with reading this one, it's got a lot in it and you'll want to be sure you can process all of it. If you're a fan of Akatsuki or Madara, they've also got some good moments in here.

(If you're liking Kanata after reading Meteor Impact, you can also read Aquarium and Comic World, which are both a bit lighter Kanata stories that just read a bit better with the context of that lore.)

MOVING ON TO !! ERA... and oh God this got long I'm so sorry we're only just now getting to this section... you will want to know what happens in the !! Main Story to proceed with Ryuseitai stories. If you haven't read this already, it is really hard to find any full fan translations of it online, but it's available to read for free in the ENGstars app.

Motor Show is the first event story in !! era for them, shared with Alkaloid. It establishes the status quo for Ryuseitai at the start of !! era, with the unit split into two sections: "Ryuseitai-M" led by Chiaki (the same format as before) and operating as ES idols, and "Ryuseitai-N" led by Tetora within Yumenosaki. Focuses on Tetora struggling with growing into his role as a leader of the unit.

After this is Comet Show, which is... a heavier one. This is Chiaki's center event, and establishes the main conflict that's going to continue throughout the next few !! era event stories. Ironically, despite being Chiaki's center, this also has some really standout Midori moments in it.

(If you're looking for something lighter to read before moving on to the next story, and you're a Midori fan, you can also read the Dollhouse gacha story. Chiaki's shuffle unit story, Date Plan, is also cute and expands on his friendship with Kaoru. I don't have a translation link for Date Plan, but it is available on ENGstars.)

Submarine is the shared SS arc story for Ryuseitai, paired with Akatsuki again! (Can you tell there's a lot of connections between these units...) It is very important to have read Meteor Impact and Comet Show before reading this or you'll be confused. I read this early and I didn't really understand it lmao.

This one isn't quite so plot important, but is actually more lighthearted unlike a lot of the other !! era Ryuseitai event stories so I recommend reading it, Ninja Clan is Shinobu's center event! It's a fun read. Shinobu I love you.

Next up is the Big One, Tetora's center, Supervillain, which features another major status quo change for the unit, some really good character development for Tetora my beloved, and resolution of the conflict that's spanned across Comet Show and Submarine.

After this the most recent event story is Tropical, Midori's center. It's fun and relaxing after Supervillain, and focuses on the unit adjusting to their new arrangement. Optionally, if you're a Kanata fan and liked Meteor Impact, there's also a recent lookback scout ABYSS dropped for him recently that focuses on his childhood with Madara and Souma.

I am. So sorry this got so long, but hopefully it helps as a reading guide for getting more into the unit!!

#asks #Anonymous #ryuseitai #enstars #wow a theo original

[mattievictoria]

I’m happy to announce my first public post about a personal project I started last April in 2022: an illustrated horror novelette (a novelette at this point in time, at least!) about turn-of-the-(previous)-century lumberjacks!

Yes, you read that right, lumberjacks. I may have to sell that to some of you, so I’ll keep it brief: isolated wilderness, incredibly dangerous work, superstitions and folklore… Hopefully, some of you have stopped chuckling at how silly the words “lumberjack horror” sounds (hopefully). Why an illustrated novelette and not say, a graphic novel? I just hate drawing comics. I love *reading* comics, manga and graphic novels, but honestly I just hate drawing them, plain and simple.

I am serious about this though, and I’ve spent the last 16 months reading 100+ year old books on Archive.org, knee-deep in Lumberjack facts (shorthand: Lumberfacts). I even took a 2,444 mile round trip-road trip from Los Angeles to the Pacific Northwest, where my story is set. (I mean, I also went with my partner to visit his family that lives up there, fortunately they tolerated me asking about old-timey lumberjacks… and Bigfoot.) Some of the most helpful books I’ve read are Pinery Boys: Song and Songcatching in the Lumberjack era (which is a 1926 book by Franz Rickaby that fortunately had a 2017 re-issue) Holy Old Mackinaw by Stewart Holbrook and The Parish Of The Pines: The Story Of Frank Higgins, The Lumberjacks' Sky Pilot by Thomas Davis Wittles. I’ve also spent a lot of time researching the history of the area, including Chief Jospeh of the Nez Perce and the union history and influence that the IWW had on that region. And back to the subject of Lumberjacks (though we left the subject for like, a sentence), I researched the logging town of Maxville, Oregon. Maxville was a community of Black loggers and their families at a time when Oregon was still a Whites-Only state, and is today historically preserved by the daughter of a Maxwell logger, Gwendolyn Trice. I suppose you can say I spent SO MUCH TIME researching because I just love history, and everything I uncovered were subjects I either knew little about, or nothing at all.

So what is my story about? What’s the deal with the three-eyed black dog and the half-tree lady? In all honestly, a lot of it I’m still figuring out. That’s been the hard part of this project— I started with a setting, not a character or a plot outline. I’ve felt like I’ve been moving backwards, and a lot of the plots I’ve developed during the past 16 months I’ve abandoned. However, I finally feel like I’ve grasped something tangible that I can work with. I don’t want to reveal too much yet, but here are some concepts I’m working with: Isolation, the supernatural, folk songs and folklore, man vs. nature, forgotten history, and of course, the deep, dark woods. Two existing works that have inspired me so far are The Man Whom the Trees Loved and The Willows, both written by classic Weird author Algernon Blackwood. As for the art side, I’ve been exploring various styles and looks, but I haven’t really attached myself to any one style in particular. I’m excited to share more with you all as I work more on this project!

Thank you for your continued support of my work,

Mattie

#dark art #folk horror #lumberjacks #pacific northwest #dark fantasy

[commander-writergirl]

Little Family of Four

Synopsis: Five or six years after getting married, Marc finally feels like he’s were he’s supposed to be. With you by his side, he has never felt lighter or happier.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, talk of trauma, talks of difficult pregnancy

Word Count: 1,451

A/N: This takes place a five or six years from the last Hanukkah story, I wanted to write something happy where Marc was comfortable with himself, his identity, and who he’s become. Also hopefully I wrote DID correctly or as close as possible. I got the idea from the comics so fingers crossed. 

Tags: @romanarose

     Marc stood adjusting Wes on his hip. He refused to call his son Wesley even though it was the compromise you two had made in the form of using Wendy’s name.  

    You hated the name Wendall and was much too close to Randall. Marc argued that you didn’t need to honor his mother, but you just raised an eyebrow and pointed on the small bundle in your arms saying, “This is your son, I can’t even see any of my family in him at this moment after spending ten hours pushing him out of my body.”  

    Elias backed you up, saying how much Wes looked like Marc. Except his eyes, his eyes were all you. Bright, full of wonder. Not brown but green. The type of green Marc saw every morning when he woke up and every night as he fell asleep. He was proud Wes had your eyes.

    Marc looked back at his son to see the four-year-old playing with the Chai necklace your parents had sent as a gift for Hanukkah. It was small and was on a leather cord instead of a chain. It had become Wes’s favorite thing, no toy compared.  

    Marc kissed his head, “Do you know what that symbol means?”

    Wes nodded, “Life.”

     “Yes, it does.” Marc smiled.  

      “I want to light candles.” Wes said having a similar permeant pout to his lower lip like Marc does, though neither of you know if Wes forced it a little more or if it was part of him growing.  

     “How about you help me tonight? Then we can practice so next year you can light them yourself. Deal?” Marc held out his pinkie. The only way Wes believed any promises or deals could be kept, and Marc refused to ever break one.

     “Deal.” Wes wrapped his little pinkie around Marc’s.  

     Marc smiled and kissed his son’s cheek before tickling his belly. Wes giggled and squirmed curling into his father even more. When the two of them heard squealing, they looked over to see you walking in with Rachel.

     Rachel, the compromise in honoring Randall.  

     Rachel, Marc’s little star. He didn’t understand how even being married with a child, your father still dotted on you and hung on to every word. But Marc understood now, from the first moment Rachel was placed in his arms, he knew he would do anything to make her smile.  

     “Alright, we are all cleaned and changed.” You smiled at Marc as you stood next to him, one arm supporting the baby wrap you had invested in after two months of arm fatigue with Wes. Marc even had his own when he was too busy to keep both arms from being busy.  

    “Sissy sick?” Wes looked down at his little sister. Marc had taken to explaining what being a big brother meant.  

     “No sweetie,” you reached over and stroked Wes’s curls back. “She’s just a baby and her getting bigger sometimes means stinky diapers and spit up.” You smiled as your son nodded. “Now, we should light the candles before anything else comes out of this little one.”  

    Marc chuckled lightly and nodded, grabbing the Shamash. He gave it to Wes as he grabbed the lighter. Wes kept a tight grip on the Shamash as Marc let the wick catch fire. Marc set the lighter down and wrapped his hand around Wes’s and began saying the prayers as they began to light the eight candles.  

“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b-mitzvotav, vtzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.”  

     As you, Marc, and Wes finished the prayer, Rachel made a cooing noise. You smiled and kissed her head. “Happy first Hanukkah my little Rakhel.”  

     “She came just in time.” Marc whispered against your temple.  

    “Ha, two months early and four weeks in the hospital early.”  You sighed and rubbed the flat of your knuckle against Rachel’s cheek. “I was so scared for a while.”  

     “Well, she’s here, and healthy. Wes is healthy.” Marc rubbed your back. When Rachel was born, he called his father. No prompting, and nothing but his own fear.  

     Elias had walked Marc through the Mi Shebeirach (Prayer for Healing) as he sat with Wes in the hospital chapel. Three days later Elias was in New York and taking Wes back to the apartment so Marc could sit with you. And then Elias came back and sent Marc home with Wes and took over watching you.

    “And you are healthy my moonlight.” Marc said. You turned to face him and nuzzled your nose against his.

    “I know. How are the boys?” Since the stress with Rachel passed, Steven and Jake have been giving Marc time to bond with his daughter.  

      They had done it with Wes, something about letting Marc bond to help with the last few steps towards what you had titled ‘Recalibrating the Mental Understanding of Life.’ It was a joke you had come up with when Marc popped the question. He got a laugh out of it since his therapist said if it wasn’t for your understanding nature and willingness to work with Marc in your relationship, he probably would have kept going the way he was before.

     Of course, with everything it meant Jake and Steven fronted less but Marc assured you that he could still hear them and feel them. And you always welcomed them and still loved them.  

    “They are good, excited to meet the new little star.” Marc chuckled hearing Steven’s excitement and Jake’s threats if anyone should hurt her.  

    “Well, I miss them. So, it will be nice to talk with them.” You smiled and walked over to the couch. Marc followed and sat down, sitting Wes between you.

    Marc closed his eyes and listened as you talked to Wes, letting his mind drift.  

        “You’ve done amazing Marc.” Marc could see Steven sitting in the library he always found comfort in.

    “We’re proud of you, amigo,” Jake raised a glass, the bar setting he always seemed to fit into.

     Marc looked at his own mental safe space, at one point it had looked like an alter room to Khonsu but now it looked like the nursery with Hamsas and a mezuzah on the door frame. The toddler bed and crib on either side. Somewhere he could hear you humming.  

     Then a thought occurred to Marc, “I know I’m getting better but... you guys won’t leave me, will you?”  

      When Marc looked over at a mirror his eight-year-old self stared back at him. 

    “We’ll always be with you Marc; we can’t leave you anymore then you can completely forget your trauma. We’ll just be... quieter.” Steven said giving a gentle smile.

     “Besides this time, we’re going willingly, unlike that time you shoved us both so far down when the cracks started you couldn’t handle it.” Jake said taking a sip from his glass.

    Marc winced at that memory. It had been before you met you and right after Khonsu. He remembered some missions, but Jake had confessed to having been the front of a few that needed a little more.  

    “We’ll be here. Besides as long as Y/N wants to see us we’ll find ways to stay present,” Jake smirked making Marc roll his eyes and Steven try to hide a laugh.

    “Abba, Abba wake up,” Marc smiled at the sound of Wes’s voice and could feel him pushing on Marc’s shoulder.  

    “Go, spend time with the family. We’ll still be here.” Steven said with a smile.  

    Marc nodded and slowly started breathing as things faded away and Marc could feel Wes jumping.  

    Marc quickly pulled Wes down and tickled his belly. “Hey little man, you got to be careful.” Wes giggled and grabbed Marc’s hand. “Don’t want to accidently hurt Ema or Rachel.”  

    Wes nodded and looked at Marc’s wedding band. He began to trace the blue opal center and watch the light shine off it. Marc used to spend hours staring at it himself, finding it hard to believe that anyone would marry him.

    Wes giggled as you tickled his feet. You wore your wedding ring on your right hand in the traditional place of your index finger. Mainly because even before you were married you wore rings mainly on your index fingers. So, as you tickled your son’s feet, Marc could see the rose gold ring on your finger with in-laid blue opals.  

    He moved closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your head.

     “Happy Hanukkah Y/N Spector.” He smiled feeling you nuzzle his shoulder.

     “Happy Hanukkah Marc Spector.” You adjusted Rachel as she began to whine and Marc watched you as you laid her against your chest, Wes moving to cuddle you on the opposite side.  

#moon knight x reader #Marc spector x Jewish!Reader #marvel universe #fanfiction #Sammi writes #moon knight x jewish!reader #steven grant #jake lockley #daddy!marc spector #jewish!marc Spector #marc spector #Jewish!reader series

[bvannn]

Weekly Update February 2, 2024

I think I’m mostly better. The medicine I take is once a week, and it’s supposed to last me all week. Last week it brought me through about Tuesday, this week I was good until Wednesday, hopefully next week it’ll last the full week. I’m doing fine today too because Fridays are when I administer it. I think I’ll be fine real soon. Unfortunately I am swamped with homework, but I can manage it pretty soon.

This week as far as art projects was mainly me messing with music. I found the trick to getting good electronic instruments, and that is a little free plugin called Krush. I don’t know why music software companies like mortal kombat so much that they spell everything like that, but the ones that do make nice stuff so I won’t judge. I also started fiddling with Melodies for some instrumental themes for OCs, Shaun and Romeo are first up for that, planning to make progress tonight. Cleaned up my other project files as well and found a nice bass and drum line I must’ve made while I was delirious on medicine after surgery bc I don’t remember making it but it sounds nice so I’ll keep it. I’m the process of cleaning up a Zelda medley, I’ll probably post the piano version of that alongside the full instrumental. Finally, another one that’s set for vocals even though I technically haven’t finished the first one. I’m impulsive. The first one is just missing vocals and lyrics really so once I’m in a good headspace I’ll try to lyric out both of these in one go and fiddle with vocaloid after I know what words I want.

I also finally started prodding at Vocaloid 5. I’m going with v5 over v4 because it has a more user friendly UI and I’m under the impression that the attack and release feature is unique to v5, although I may be wrong on that. I’m still not sure exactly which voicebanks I’ll want to use, obviously the Kagamines would be a good choice because having a male and female option packaged together is cool, but the Zolas are also a package deal and have a bit more variation amongst them. I’m not sure how well they do English though, since they’re not built for it. I mean I guess people won’t really care, people still seem to be big fans of the Vflower English songs even though she’s also not built for english *or the genre most of those songs are* and they eat them up anyway. The Zolas are also less marketable than the Kagamines or Vflower, though. Also I guess Miku is an option and probably an inevitability if I do start making vocaloid music but I don’t need to start with her, you know? Idk maybe I’ll keep working on song stuff and consider which vocal fits the best, maybe I’ll draw them a bit too, see how much demand there is.

I haven’t been doing any comic work because I’ve still been sick, plus now I’m waffling since I don’t have a big animation project anymore and I guess I could fill the void by making that project an animation, but I’m still unsure. It might be smart to do both, and at a minimum my thumbnailing out the comic makes sure that everything is paced correctly and the dialogue flows. Tonight I’m hoping to pick back up where I left of before I got sick: I had finished the first third of the first ‘episode’, and was moving on to act 2.

Today especially I’ve been bit by the TTRPG bug again and kinda want to write out and draw stuff for that, but normally I do my best conceptual writing while I’m delirious in bed after my sleep medicine is kicked in but before I fall asleep. I stayed up late last night alternating between chemistry homework and playing ghost trick so tonight should be a good night for writing. Maybe I’ll get more comic outline writing done too, who knows.

And finally I also just really need to get more drawings done. I posted those epithet challenge ones the other day, which people seem to like. And I really want to do a drawing of Lynne, I like her because she reminds me of an OC of mine, can’t say which one or why though because that’s a spoiler for both characters. I really need to do more art in general, so I threw together a wheel of small little doodles to do, but all that still relies on me having free time, which is a lot scarcer now that I’m working. Still, if I get back into the habit of chugging out those comic pages, I can probably do a little more.

I’m still not sure what to do tonight. I keep flipping back and forth over whether I want to do music or drawing, and end up with little in the way of posting. I did find out that I can post audio to tumblr easy now, so I’ll try to do that more often. Idk. I’m exhausted from today specifically, and this past week has been busy, but I’m hoping it’ll die down and I can do more this upcoming week.

#weekly update

[redrobin-detective]

lipstick on your cape

“Robbie?” Tabitha looked up from the phone she wasn’t supposed to have on patrol at Nightwing. Hopefully Peg wouldn’t tattle on her to Bruce. “You got a little something on your cape. I think it’s that dark red lipstick they can probably see from the Watchtower.”

Beth examined her cape and, sure enough, there were some mysterious red smudges on the inner yellow lining, just past the right shoulder. She scrubbed at it with her gloves, how’d that even get there? Alfred would have a fit if this stained. Peg grunted as she sat down next to Tab on the edge of the building.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” Peg asked, deceptively casual.

“About what?” Beth questioned.

“About why you’ve been sporting colored lips the last week,” Peg said softly. “I mean it’s pretty and all but its very,“ she paused. “It’s grownup. Are you trying to impress someone? I know things with you and Arianna are over but maybe someone on your team?”

“No, it’s not like that!” Beth blushed. “I don’t know, I thought it looked nice?”

“You’re 15 baby girl,” Peg said with a little frown. “You don’t need to look nice, you just need to be yourself. Especially as Robin.”

“I am being myself. I don’t have a reason, okay! I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, I like girly stuff I guess. Its a safety risk to wear fun earrings or necklaces on patrol so, I don’t know, the other day I put on some lipstick and thought it looked cute so I kept doing it.”

Her mother had been a tomboy, more at home in the dirt than society but Tabitha had always been impressed at how she could transform. The nights they were home, when they had to play the part of the Drakes, were special. Mom would do her hair, nails and make-up just so and become someone else. She went from Tab’s flighty, distracted but stubborn mom to a princess. Her smiles were calculated, her posture perfect and she could glide across a ballroom in six inch heels and a sleek dress like she was born for it. And she had been but she’d rejected it for her dad and archeology but mostly archeology.

Tabitha loved computers and skateboards and comics and cars but she’d spent so many hours learning to style her hair in different ways, to paint her nails like a pro and to layer her lipstick like she was ready for murder. It was a side she hadn’t indulged in much lately. Being Robin was it’s own sort of freedom but it had its restrictions as well.

“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing,” Peg said thoughtfully, leaning back to look up at the moon. “I guess Jan and I set a bit of a precedent huh?” Robins were crime fighters. They laughed at criminals and fought against the worst of the worst. They were efficient, practical and inspiring. They didn’t wear lipstick. Beth brought a glove to cover her mouth.

“Sorry, I guess it’s not really appropriate, is it? I think I have some make up remover wipes in my belt.” Peg grabbed a hold of her wrist.

“No, no, keep it on,” Peg insisted. “It does look nice, you did a good job and it really compliments the red of your suit.” She shifted so they were holding hands. “My mom used to do me up in makeup before shows, so the audience could see our faces. I can still feel her fingertips running over my cheeks.” She said with a soft voice, eyes closed in memory. “Moving in with B, I couldn’t do makeup that extravagant. I had to make a good impression and then, as I got older, I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression from lipstick and eye shadow.” 

“It’s such a burden to be beautiful,” Tabitha said with an eye roll even though it kind of was. She saw the way people ogled Peg at events. Tab had tripped one particularly creepy guy right into the punch bowl. Bruce had given her a thumbs up across the hall.

“You’re not Jan, no one expects you to be,” Peg said softly. “We just want you to be yourself. That’s the beauty of being Robin, you get to be whoever you want to be.”

“And what about B?” Beth questioned.

“You introduced yourself by breaking B’s rules,” Peg said with a grin, breaking the hand hold to ruffle Tab’s hair. She angrily straightened her clip and re-fluffed her bangs. Just because Nightwing just had a simple ponytail doesn’t mean some vigilantes didn’t care about merging style and function. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, okay,” Beth said, scooting over to lean on Peggy’s shoulder. She loved her mom, missed her a lot but having a big sister was pretty great too. “You could add a little color to your lips too if you want.”

“I think I’ll pass. I’ve seen the colors you wear, baby bird,” Peg chuckled.

“Well how about your hair?” Tab asked, sitting up. “I could teach you how to do a simple french braid, or more fancy if you’d like. Still be functional but adds a little bit of style.”

“Tomorrow, my place, my hands always cramp after too long using the grapples. I’ll order some of that disgusting pizza you like,” Peg grinned. Tabitha grinned, her lips a dark ruby red under the Gotham moonlight.

Robin didn’t do her make up every night. Some nights she was running late, finishing clipping on her cape as she ran to the Batmobile. Other times she was too tired, too pained, just not in the mood for such frivolities. But other nights, she sculpted her eyebrows with an eyebrow pencil. She rubbed primer, foundation, blush, sealant on her face that could hold up against wind, rain and rogues. She poured over her ever growing collection of lipsticks and lipstains and picked a color that spoke to her.

Red was for when she was feeling daring, bold, she had many different variations of the color but deliberately shied away from Joker red. When Spoiler took to the streets she acquired all sorts of different purples to complement the laughing boy’s costume. Pink was for when she felt soft but strong, when she was making a statement to the worst of Gotham that it couldn’t change her. Black was only to be used on the nights she knew would be bad. Bart got her a glittery gold one that she loved but used sparingly because it caught the light easily. Peg had laughed when when Tab shown up once with Nightwing blue lips, her braided hair dancing in the breeze.

She was Robin, she was a hero, a role model, a symbol. But she was also a girl, a girl who loved dresses that flared out when she spun and lots of shiny, sparkly dangles and doodads and she loved the taste of matte lipstick as she jumped into the fight. Sometimes people were just a pile of different things all mushed together. And the rest of the world was going to just have to get over it.

#wayne girls au #been a while since I used that tag #I never properly stop thinking of my girl Robins they just go to sleep and occasionally strangle me #please Do Not turn this into a make-up arguement #I treat it as a fun thing to do when I want to and inspired by me wearing this dark purple lipstick on Tues and feeling divine #(I project so much onto Tabitha don't look at me) #I think Tab would have an interesting relationship within femininity and Robin #Neither Peg nor Jan were into it so she's in a way breaking out of the mold by expressing herself in that manner #but she does become the go to for traditional make up (even B and the boys) #I also have strong feelings on Beth giving Nightwing the braid that would become her signature #sisterly bonding and Peg embracing a little bit more of that femininity she'd sort of abandoned trying to fir into society/male hero society #I have so much gd lore and headcanons for these bitches its insane #they go to sleep but then I pull them out and take like 5 minutes to download all the bs I've come up with #(Peg was originally Rachel and I'll always be thankful for Lox pointing out that Peg is a MUCH better Fem Dick name) #anyway I love ridiculous lipstick colors and it amuses me to think this baby lil teen shows up to a crime scene with dayglow purple lips #my 90s babe shops at Clairs and buys the most obnoxious jewelery and does wild nail polish colors and is a pretty punk princess #I'm love her so much #blorbo from my self projections

[homemoviess]

Post #11 - A Step Towards Background Design

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

✔ - Vote in the poll.

After a much-needed break, I am happy to return and try to crack down on one important element of comic creation; backgrounds. Being a lazy artist, (everything must be created within a short time frame, or oops, there goes my attention span) sitting down to render a well-thought-out scene is the bane of my existence. At least with writing, it is easier to say what I envision. With visual art, there requires a bit more skill and time to bring an idea to life. So naturally, I am no expert at setting a compelling scene, but I plan to take the next 7 days to change that.

We're heading to art school at YouTube University. We'll have a lot to learn. Everything from the composition, to the perspective, to the layout of a background. I will try to pick up the basics, and hopefully improve as the comic gradually progresses. By the time the last page is drawn, and before the project comes to an end, I hope to have a product that is alluring to gaze upon.

I hope to have something that invokes a strong emotion within the viewer.

The images in this post are the three base categories of study; interior, exterior, and wider landscape/cityscape shots.

I wanted to track my progress, as well as see how much I currently know, (spoiler alert, not much) so the above was drawn without references. They are the barebone sketches that currently plague my portfolio. Something quick, something easy. I can't say for sure that this will change all that drastically, but my main goal is to find the happy medium between my lazy art and a compelling scene to stare at.

I will be releasing a post sometime next week that will detail the aesthetic direction I want to take the world. There's going to be a little more thought put into the details to create something that fits with the themes of the fanfic while still keeping true to the Undertale elements. There will be a mood board accompanying the post, (with a few images from my trip) so you'll get a bit more insight into exactly what I mean.

One last thing to touch on, I recently re-read a comment on The Salt Circle regarding the look of the Frisks/Charas, and though this story has nothing to do with that one, it did leave me thinking about the designs of the characters. The poll is still active, and currently, we have two options that are neck and neck; starting from scratch with a brand new AU, or going with Swapfell Gold. I think I will leave the poll up until my big post next week to see which one will win, but I am liking the idea of something new and of our own. Something made just for Fawn. Of course, as a project, I want to share and build along with readers. Therefore, the majority rules, but I suppose we'll have to see which answer wins before really cementing any ideas.

In the meantime; I will be starting the first day of background building tomorrow. We'll start things off easy by referencing the official map of the Underground as well as Clipstudio's guide on How to draw iconic cityscapes.

#Class is in session! #Another Undertale Update #But we have started the next stage #wip update #learning to draw #Backgrounds backgrounds and more backgrounds

[owltypical]

super long dump post about various irl things

a coworker of mine passed away at the beginning of the week. he’d actually left the company back in september, so i hadn’t seen him in several months, and i wouldn’t say we were super close, but. he was on my team, and we saw each other and talked and interacted and spent time together at work hangouts pretty much constantly over several years.

he was only 29. not sure how it happened, just that we heard from his family that it had, and his memorial page and viewing/funeral times were shared with us. it was definitely a great shock to us, i hid myself in the bathroom for a bit and cried. hadn’t cried properly in a long time due to my brain meds, so i had a sadness headache for a couple days.

he was a very pleasant, polite, and nice young dude. politics rarely come up at work though i knew he came from a religious catholic conservative background, but he was pretty socially conscious and angry/disillusioned about a lot of the shit he saw going on; i saw him grow from those roots over that time and i wonder how he’d turn out in the end if he’d been given proper time to finish growing. one of the kindest, most patient phone voices i ever heard.

it sucks so extra hard when somebody suddenly dies young like that. technically he was already out of my life when it happened, but that’s the closest to someone’s death i’ve been in ages, possibly ever, other than i suppose my cousin who passed away a few years ago. i’ve never been to a funeral, the few deaths i’ve encountered have been very distant and slightly unreal, even with family. but this was someone i knew and saw irl and who was part of my everyday life for quite a while; now he’s just suddenly gone, he’s ceased to exist. just memories and pictures.

literally the next morning after that another of our team members had some sort of medical episode at work; paramedics came and took her away in an ambulance. not sure what happened, she seems to be fine now thank god, but it was very scary at the time. that one-two punch in less than 24 hours made for a very mentally and emotionally strained week for us; so far 2023 for me has been kind of muted and spent grieving.

speaking of brain meds: started a new mixed dosage of stuff just today. the previous prescription was helping, but not enough, and had side effects that i felt were hampering my progress elsewhere. hopefully this new combo works out! i want more energy during the day, i want to sleep better at night, i want to have this dumb brain in a more orderly shape. i want to feel artistic and draw again.

not sure what i’ll do if i start feeling better about art again, though. i keep fretting that i just don’t have it in me to do big detailed print-ready longform comic stories, and never really have, despite how many times i’ve tried over the years. maybe i really do just need a partner to work with, i don’t know. i’m also second-guesing myself about the overall setting of outliers. i was always very tickled by weird/background stuff in comic book superhero settings since my youth, but the last few years i’ve completely soured on exactly that; the absolute glut of comic book movies and tv series have been overwhelming and tiring and obnoxious, it’s made me very jaded about the whole thing. and i don’t want to be seen as part of riding on that particular bandwagon either.

kind of trying to figure out what the hell to do in general. i make enough to survive just fine, but not enough to actually grow or go anywhere or make any real changes. affordable housing is nonexistent these days, absolutely everywhere, not just the places i would actually be interested in moving to. wages suck, everything costs way more now, good luck getting where you’d like to go without selling a few organs and cramming into some hole with three other equally desperate roommates. i’d donate plasma but apparently one of my arms has bad invisible veins so i got told to go away.

it’s real existential crisis times over here, i guess. i’m less than two years away from 40 now; i thought i had more time to figure some things out but an injury and good ol’ covid stole a large chunk of my prime 30s away from me. i want to move and improve my station in life, but how? i want a partner, but dating’s hard, especially the older you get and especially when you’re ace. i want to draw, but i worry that i don’t truly have the stamina and time to do everything i want to do, and that i’m running out of time in general. it’s stupid, i know it’s just youth-oriented culture and the world’s aggressive ageism messing with me, but it’s hard to feel like the countdown to 40 isn’t some sort of doomsday clock terror. too late for love, too late for family, too late for careers and making something of myself artistically. brains are stupid.

well. here’s to the brain in question getting better via updated meds, and here’s to 2023 having something good happen during it, i suppose. i hope.

#the illustrious life of owltypical #long post #very long post #death //

[erwinsvow]

𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

summary: it's nothing short of magnetic, the hold your step-brother, eren, has on you.

warnings: step-cest, manipulation, posessive behavior + unhealthy/toxic relationship, light angst, attempted sexual assault,

author's note: hi everyone, here's the third piece in my step-cest series. this piece is much darker than the others and please read the tags thoroughly before reading. i hope everyone likes it and thank you for the support <3 this is the first part of what will hopefully be a series!

There’s something so inherently wrong about it, thinking about Eren the way you do.

Your step-brother has never been one to mince his words, to soften his expressions or take a minute to look at things from your perspective. No, Eren is all hard, angry gazes and firm stances. He doesn’t have an ounce of give in him.

You don’t know when you became so susceptible to it, though. Doing things prematurely to avoid that look of anger and disappointment in his eyes. Making sure you’re always home an hour before curfew, never staying out too late with your girlfriends, despite how much they plead for you to join them for one more drink.

No, you even watch how much alcohol you consume to make sure Eren doesn’t get upset with you. It’s almost child-like, the way he treats you, the way he has a firm grasp on all the different parts of your life. A part of you hates it, and another part of you can’t imagine living with it.

It’s the control he brings, the firmness, the solidity to your once haphazard life. You were so used to taking care of yourself, making sure all the responsibilties were handled for your mother, in an almost comical role-reversal. Until the Yeager family entered into your life, and suddenly your mother had a new husband and you had a new brother.

A brother who liked to take care of things, who wanted to make sure there weren’t any worries clouding that pretty head of yours. A brother who set rules and expected you to follow them, despite how you noticed he was always breaking them himself.

And you suppose that’s how you got to where you are now, perched on the couch beside Armin, as he rambles about something you can’t bring yourself to pay attention to. Armin is your friend too, and you love him dearly, but he’s going on and on about something silly when all your thoughts are focused on Eren and the pretty girl he’s guiding up the stairs, to his bedroom.

Eren’s rules for your house parties follow as such, the first being that you’re not allowed more than three drinks of any kind. You had a beer hours ago, or so it feels, because the three or four shots you snuck in rapid succession while Eren was distracted (or was it more like five and six?) are making you feel dizzy and heavy-headed at the same time.

You want to pay attention to what Armin’s talking about, offer him advice for his unrequired crush on a girl in one of his classes and laugh at how you two are probably, or at least were, the most sober people present, but you just can’t.

It feels like you’ve forgotten how to breathe all together, watching your step-brother disappear up the stairs, the girl’s slinky party dress being the last thing you see. Suddenly the music’s much too loud, the air is much too hot, and your head and heart are pounding when you think of what Eren and that girl are doing together.

You stumble to your feet, much too quickly and causing a head rush that only makes you feel worse. Ignoring Armin’s concerned words and pushing past the strangers crowding your house, you desperately attempt to get to the back door for some fresh air.

Without even realizing it, you’ve just broken rule number two; don’t go anywhere alone or without telling Eren.

But you can’t help it. You think you’re gonna throw up, and you already regret breaking the first rule, even though it had felt like fun hours ago, and now, chest heaving in the backyard as you try to catch your breath, you feel hot tears running down your face.

It was hard enough trying to fight off your feelings for him on regular days, ones where you’re both home alone and deciding what to eat for dinner, teasing and laughing through a movie on the couch and feeling so comfortable and happy that you never want the day to end. Or at least, you don’t want your parents to return home just yet. It was hard enough to hide your glances when your parents were around, when you’d be eating breakfast with them and Eren would come down shirtless to get a glass of water, or when he’d come back from the gym and your mother was trying to talk to you about something and your eyes kept leaving hers to find Eren.

But it’s somehow even harder in this moment, realizing that you’ll never be more than the bothersome little sister to him, another responsibility to burden. He’ll never look at you the way he looks at his girls, never comfortably wrap his arms around you in front of all his friends, never disappear with you in the middle of the party. No, these aren’t things he can do with his step-sister.

You’ve chosen just about the worst time to break down over this, with the party in full swing behind a single set of doors. There’s no way to reach the bathroom, or your bedroom without running into a hundred people, some who recognize you, some who don’t, but all likely to comment on the state of your tear-ridden, sniffling face.

It might be better to sit in the garden until you calm down, you decide finally, crumpling down into the soft, dewy grass and bringing your knees to your chest.

Why does it hurt so much? Why is it so hard to tear your thoughts away from Eren? Fresh tears roll down your face as you think more about your relationship over the course of the last few months. Your head’s spinning at the idea of how it’s only been months, because it feels like you’ve known him for years with the way that you two are with each other.

Everything is so effortless, from the way you address him as Eren-nii to the almost mechanical way you comply with his rules. You’re breaking another one, you realize, feeling around the grass for your phone but rememebering that it’s still beside Armin back in the house. Don’t go anywhere without your phone.

It’s down the list somewhere, five or six, because you were always so good with all his rules. You didn’t need to be reminded of them anymore, they just came to you so naturally, like your body and mind knew how eagerly you wanted to please him. And whenever praise left his mouth, you were sucked right back into it.

But he wasn’t here to praise you, you think bitterly, the horrible taste of jealousy seeping into your mouth and filling up your chest. He’s with her.

You don't even know her name, and it’s not this specific girl you’re mad at, either, it’s all of them. It’s the aftermath of watching so many girls be head over heels for your Eren-nii, listening to people on campus whisper about him, feeling the cold gaze of the last flavor of the week on you as Eren walks to you his car. It’s the burning jealousy you feel when someone at the party asks their friend who you are, and why you’re so close to Eren, and their response especially that makes you see red.

“That’s just his sister, nothing to worry about.”

Because after all, that’s all you are. Eren’s stupid little step-sister. The one who fell in love with her step-brother, the one who can’t bear to see him with girls that he can actually be with, the one who’s crying in the garden wondering what time it is because she can’t bring herself to break any more of Eren’s rules.

Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow, you think to yourself, trying to find the strength to get on your feet, legs stumbling like some new-born animal. You let out a deep breath, trying to steady yourself when you hear the click of the doors opening, the noise from the party seeping through and infecting the quiet stillness you’ve been in.

A boy staggers in, someone you don’t know personally but recognize as a familiar face that’s always at Eren’s parties. He seems harmless enough now, but when you were more sober, you had noticed how he never leaves the girl he’s fixated on alone, always seems to be watching with sly, narrowed eyes like a predator stalking his prey. When you were sober you noticed how his friends have to drag his drunken body away from the innocent girl he wouldn’t stop bothering, and Eren’s subtle comments of ‘Stay away from guys like that.’

But of course, you’re not sober now.

He sees you, shaky legs in a short skirt, leaning against a tree for support as you groan from how dizzy you feel. The lighting in the back of the house is dim, the porch lights and open door only giving enough visibility to see his figure stalking over to you. You’re not sure how to react, when you can barely hold your head up and you feel like your legs will give out at any second. Now you understand why Eren was so strict about his three-drink rule.

“You need help, pretty girl?” Floch asks, eyes locked on his next target. He’s a little bit more drunk than usual too, as a result of most of the girls inside the house rejecting him and him taking it a little too personally. You’re not looking into his eyes, but they’re swimming with joy at the sight of a girl he doesn’t think is clear-headed enough to turn him down.

“N-no,” you finally get out after a while, trying to think of words in your head but nothing coming from your dry mouth. “I need ‘Ren-” You take a step towards the house, wanting to find your brother and give him a piece of your mind, but your mind works faster than your legs, making your feet stutter and causing Floch to grip your arm to steady you. If his hand wasn’t wrapped so tightly around you, almost bruisingly so, you might not have noticed anything wrong with him. But when you raise your head to look at the stranger’s face, finally catching the devious look he’s been sporting the whole time, you start to struggle against him. You want him to let go, but your arm is in a vice grip and he’s giving no signs of up letting up.

“L-let go of me,” you plead, trying to move away to no avail.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me take care of you. What’s got you crying here all alone, huh? Practically beggin’ for someone to come save you,” Floch says, his other hand moving your hair aside so he can press his face into your neck. You struggle against him, finally regaining control of your limbs from the adrenaline running through your body and flailing your legs. You move your knee to hit him in the groin, causing him to let out a yelp as you finally get away.

Your breathing is heavy and heart is pounding as you hear him just a few steps away, calling out into the darkness.

“You little bitch,” he spits first, followed by a slurred spew of obsecenities. Your heart’s racing, trying to find the way back to the door even though all the lights seem to be spinning. You can hear Floch’s steps behind you, catching up as he overpowers your hand that was reaching for the door handle and yanks you back.

“I’ll teach you a lesson,” he says, hand moving to your waist as you let out a scream and try to elbow him. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, sickening you even more as you feel your exhausted arms about ready to fall, ready to give up, when the door opens and you hear a familiar voice yelling out.

“Hey! ‘Ren, I found her- you son of a bitch-!” you hear the voice say, before the tall figure comes at you and gets Floch away from you. You slump against whoever it is, eyes refusing to stay open as you murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ against his sturdy chest, and give in to your head that’s been screaming for some rest.

…

When you wake up, you’re in your room. Your eyes flicker open to the sunlight pouring in, and you move your head away from it. It’s entirely too bright, and your head still hurts, and you don’t know when you ended up back in your room because the last thing you remember is being downstairs with Armin.

You turn to your nightstand, grabbing your phone to look at the time—it’s half past nine, but you don’t remember plugging your phone in. You don’t remember how the cup of water and bottle of aspirin got there either, but you’re grateful for it as you try to figure out exactly why your head is pounding and you’re only dressed in the top from last night and a pair of panties.

“Sleep well, princess?” the voice comes from the direction of your door, causing you to jump in your bed and nearly drop the glass of water. You don’t even have to look to know who it is, but you do anyways, turning to see Eren leaning against your door-frame.

He’s not smiling. For some reason, you had expected him to be smiling, just there to tell you good morning, tell you what he’ll be doing today and asking you for your plans. But Eren’s not smiling, in fact, he looks the closest you’ve ever seen to being angry at you.

But that doesn’t make any sense, because why would he be angry at you? You haven’t done anything to deserve that, and you’re quite sure you’d remember if you had-

“I asked you a question,” he says, arms folded and expression growing more and more disappointed by the second. It’s horrible, the way he’s looking at you. It makes you want to crawl under the sheets and disappear, makes you think you’ve done something terrible when you can’t even remember anything after leaving Armin’s side and heading to the backyard—oh.

Your eyes widen and chest sinks as everything from last night clicks into place, the extra shots you weren’t supposed to have, walking to the garden without telling anyone, without your phone, the horrible boy that wouldn’t let you go, someone yelling out that they found you—who was that?—all of it.

You let out a shaky breath as you meet Eren’s eyes. They’re so pretty, you’ve always thought, pure emerald green that stands out even more against his tanned skin in the summer, from all the beach parties he throws, when you sit with your book under an umbrella and watch him play volleyball.

Eren almost feels bad doing this. He’s noticed the way your soft eyes have drifted off to another thought entirely, ignoring his question and refusing to deal with exactly what you had done last night. Broken half of his rules, rules that he created with the sole purpose of keeping you safe and away from guys like that, but what had you done? Defied him, for absolutely no reason.

“Are you deaf?” it comes out a bit harsher than he intended it to, because your eyes snap back into focus and immediately fill up with tears. Eren’s a strong guy, but when you start crying, there’s little he can do against it, because it breaks his heart. This, all of this, was only ever to make sure you were okay. That’s all he ever cared about, and he just can’t get understand why you would go against him like this.

“N-no, I-I’m, I’m sorry. My head is pounding.” Last night you had been so angry at him, you wanted to blow his head off, but now, with him standing at the foot of your bed and eyes practically drilling holes into yours, the anger in your chest has disappeared and is replaced with a searing, flaming feeling of shame. It takes over your entire body slowly, like a flame following a path of oil, leaving you red-hot as tears run down your face and a sob escapes your lips.

“I-I’m so sorry, I, he- I had no idea he would do that-” you cry out, burying your head into your hands and your entire body shaking with sobs. Eren knew this would happen, in fact, a small part of him was hoping it would. There’s nothing he loved more than taking care of you.

He moves swiftly, sitting down on your soft covers and wrapping you in his arms effortlessly, as though he had done it a thousand times. You lay your head on his chest, shaking in his grip and tears making his shirt all wet, but you know he won’t care. Your body jerks a little when you feel his hand rub up and down the soft skin of your back, under your shirt, though you hardly care that this isn’t how he should be touching you. You crave it, more than anything, the intoxicating way Eren makes you feel when you’re alone with him, despite how wrong it is.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you repeat, sounding more and more like a broken record as your body is wracked with sobs. You’re so angry, so hurt, so ashamed at yourself, how could you break his rules like that? How could you make your Eren-nii so upset with you, how could you get so drunk some strange boy almost took advantage of you?

You look up at him from your position in his arms, eyes and cheeks glistening with tears and an expression on your face that makes Eren’s heart twist and churn.

“It’s okay,” Eren starts, his tone much different than earlier. “I know you didn’t mean to, but this is why we have rules, so things like this don’t happen.” You nod eagerly against his chest, learning your lesson and ingraining this feeling into your heart, so you never disappoint Eren again. You don’t want him to let go, to stop talking, as you feel the vibration of his chest as he speaks and how his arms feel, tight against your body.

“Who knows what would have happened if Jean hadn’t found you.”

Jean. So that’s who saved you last night.

“Can you tell him I’m sorry?” you whisper in a small voice. Eren knows Jean’s not upset in the slightest, more worried than anything. Too worried for Eren’s liking, but he can’t say anything, not when he’s the one who found you while he was busy with Hitch.

“I will, but you have to apologize to Armin, too. He said you walked away without any reason, alone, even though you know you can’t do that. Hm?” His tone is somewhere in the hazy space between condescending and degrading, talking to you as though you weren’t even smart enough to realize how rude you’d been last night.

I was plastered, nii-chan, you want to say, but you bite your cheek. You don’t think he knows about the extra shots, the ones that broke rule number one, and you don’t want his tone to revert to what it had been just moments ago, making you feel like a toddler getting scolded.

“I will, Eren-nii,” you mumble against his chest, face flushing with heat. You’re not sure if it’s from the hangover, or the way your door is open and your parents could easily walk in and see Eren’s hands roaming your exposed skin, or a combination of both. “We should, uh—before Mom comes up, or something,” you say, awkwardly, pounding head mixed with emotions. You don’t want to pull away from Eren’s soothing touch, not when this your turn to be alone with him, just how another random girl had her turn last night.

And it catches you there, just for a second, how fucked this is. You’re not one of his girlfriends, or hookups, and you have no business comparing yourself to them, or thinking moments like these with Eren will make him see you in a different way. No, this is probably the worst thing you could be thinking, but Eren doesn’t help matters, either.

“They went out, earlier,” he says, hand finally leaving your body and running his fingers through his hair. “Besides, we need to talk about your punishment.”

The word alone has a choked laugh escaping your lips, one that you regret immediately when you notice how stern and serious Eren’s eyes are. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve seen him like this, maybe once when he was kicking a boy out of the party for being too handsy with you, or the time he had snuck his arm around your shoulder when you were talking to a guy in one of your classes about getting together to study sometime, the boy taking off as soon as Eren’s eyes settled on his.

“M-my what?” you question, taking a sip of the water and hoping this is all some kind of silly joke he’s playing. Sure, you broke his rules, but it’s not like you’re actually a toddler he has to reprimand. You’re almost an adult, and yes, you made a mistake, but it’s only human.

“Your punishment. You broke the rules, baby, you have to get punished.”

“What are you gonna, spank me? I’m not-” I’m not a child, you want to say, but the dead-pan expression on your step-brother’s face makes the words falter as quickly as they had came.

“Don’t give me any ideas. Three weeks, one for each rule you broke. No going out and no inviting anyone here.”

An incredulous sigh leaves your mouth, wide eyes staring at Eren. You’re at a loss for words. He gets up from your bed, walking towards the door before he turns back to you. “You think I can’t tell when a rule’s been broken, baby? You’re lucky I didn’t make it one week for every shot you took.”

#ok part one. let’s see if there’s ever a part two my guys😭 #tw stepcest #eren yeager #eren jeager #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager imagine #eren jaeger imagine #aot imagine #aot #attack on titan #snk

[spencersawkward]

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay. 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie. 

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?! 

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since. 

or, really, for your cat to try it. 

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.  

taglist (lmk about adding/removal or add yourself to the list here!): @jareids @reidsconverse @xoxomgg @may-b-a-u-shewritestoo @la-vie-en-amour1 @g0lden-cth @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @kisseslikecoffee @spenxerslut @slutforthegubes @spookydrreid @depressedgothgrl @flipper-kisses @multixfandomwriter​ @willowrose99​ @gingeraleluke​ @chasemoonlight​ @spencerreid9​ 

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #wes x reader #wes dollface #mgg smut #mgg fluff #mgg character smut #mgg characters #dollface

[high-functioning-lokipath]

All About Eavesdropping - Loki x Reader - Words: 1,835

“You want us to what?” You yelled. 

“I need you and Elsa here to go to Greenland for about a month,” Tony said. You stared at him from across his worktable in his lab. 

“Why in Valhalla would we need to do that, Stark?” Loki retorted. “And don’t call me Elsa.” Tony had called the two of you in there right after breakfast saying that he had a very important job for you. This, however, did not seem to be all that special.

“For purely scientific purposes, of course,” He replied, mouthful of blueberries.

“And those would be?” You sighed, facedesking. 

“The new winter stealth suits I designed. I need them tested in the field. I’ve run as many lab tests as possible but,” Tony shrugged. “Field tests are absolutely necessary. Everything you’ll need is either in these boxes or in the house in Greenland. If you want to take any other personal stuff you’ll want to grab it before you leave.”

“And you think we’re the best for the job?” You asked.

“He’s already a popsicle so if it gets too cold he can deal with it and you can heal yourself or him anyway,” Tony said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Loki tensed at his words but didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine,” Loki grunted. He grabbed the box Tony had marked for him and headed for the doors. 

“You leave at 6! Don’t be late!” 

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Stark,” Loki sassed before finally stalking out. 

“Have fun!” Tony grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“First of all, perv. Second of all, ain’t gonna happen!” You replied. “Why are you doing this? This whole thing is a direct attack on a part of him he doesn’t like to address!” 

“Well I figured he has to grow up one day and deal with it. We all have inner demons to fight. I figured I’d help him.”

“A bit not good there, Sherlock.” Tony snorted in laughter and shook his head. 

“Would you rather I send him with Steve?” Your eyes widened comically.

“Nope!” You exclaimed, popping the p. “I think we’ll do just fine.” You grabbed your box and headed out as well.   

By 6 o'clock, the two of you were flying out on one of Tony's jets. "So, what do you think of the new suits?" You asked Loki, trying to make some conversation.

"They are no match for true Asgardian leather and would be greatly improved by at least a cape," He replied sounding rather bored. 

"Oh," You said. "How exactly are we to be testing the suits again? I forget what Tony said."

"He said nothing, darling. It was all in his infernal little packet." You blushed lightly at the pet name and nodded. 

"Alright, well, I guess I'm just going to," You paused, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Loki was not interested in conversation but there wasn't much to do on the jet. "I'm just going to sit over there," You said, getting up quickly and moving to the other side of the jet. The rest of the flight was quiet, Loki only speaking up to alert you that you were about to land. 

"Surely the man of iron could not possibly want us to stay here," Loki said, getting out and seeing the small house.

"Maybe it's bigger on the inside," You said hopefully. Gathering your few things, you both headed in. "Oh this is so much worse," You groaned. The large main room consisted of the dining and living rooms and the kitchen. However, it was very sparsely decorated. You could see a stack of groceries in the kitchen along with a note. Loki wandered off to explore the bathroom and bedrooms, you assumed, while you read the note. 

"Find anything of interest?" Loki called out, surprising you.

"Just that Tony said if we didn't like the food or somehow ran out there's a grocery store about 10 miles away."

"And just how does he expect us to go there?" Loki yelled, getting increasingly frustrated. 

"The note says our transportation is out back." You walked down the small hallway to the back door and looked outside. Stifling a laugh you called out, "Hey, Loki! I think your ex is here!"

"My who?" Loki replied, very confused. "I have no 'exes', as you call them, on Midgard." You smirked and moved aside so Loki could look. When he saw what was in the backyard, a strange look crossed over his face. "Run," He said in a dangerously calm voice. 

"I beg your pardon?" You replied.

"Run if you don't want to lose your phone," He smirked back. You laughed but you did take off running. He chased you back out to the main room but you ran out the front door. "Don't think you can escape me!" He called out. 

"Wanna bet?" You called back, running to the backyard. You quickly jumped on one of the two horses you had seen and took off. 

"Oh, you'll regret saying that, my dear," Loki grinned, getting on the other horse and taking off after you. 

The next few days continued in a similar pattern. There wasn't much to do so you and Loki would often spend your time exploring the woods behind the house or riding the horses or just talking. Loki had warmed up to you quite a bit, pun intended, and you were quite happy. Of course, you recorded the events of each day in your diary. Well, it was less of a diary and more of a collection of special moments you wanted to remember and sketches you'd made. You had just finished writing today's events when you heard a loud clatter and Loki call you from the kitchen.

"Y/N!" He said. "Can you come here please?" You quickly put your notebook in the nightstand drawer and hurried out to the kitchen.

"What in the world happened, Loki?" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. Loki was laying on the floor, covered in a mixture of flour and eggs it seemed, with various cups and bowls around him. 

"I was attempting to reach a mixing bowl on the top shelf when I slipped on an egg and pulled the shelf down," He admitted.

"You're telling the truth!" You gasped, openly chuckling at the situation now.

"Of course, love! I couldn't lie to you." You blushed brightly, as he often made you do with those pet names. 

"Uh, well," You stuttered. "Why don't you go wash up and I'll finish," You paused, glancing around. "Whatever you were making."

"I was attempting to make breakfast," He grinned. "But I think I should make myself clean instead, hm?" 

"Yes, you should," You smirked. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you were greying early."

"You-" He exclaimed, standing quickly. For a moment you thought he was truly angry, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached onto the counter and threw a handful of flour at you before running off to the bathroom. You laughed, dusted yourself off, and got to work on breakfast.

About an hour later, he came back out and sat across you at the counter. "Your breakfast, my prince," You smiled, presenting him his plate. He smiled and you ate in silence for a time. 

"I've been reading a lot lately," He commented. 

"Mhm," You replied, mouthful of syrupy pancakes. 

"The last book I read had some rather interesting sketches in it too."

"Really?" You asked, truly interested. "I love art. Can you show it to me?" You took a large gulp of milk as he replied.

"My dear," He said, setting down his fork. "I read your diary." You coughed, almost choking on your ill-timed drink. 

"You what?" You screeched. "How dare you invade my privacy like that and-"

"Don't you care to know what I thought?" He interrupted.

"Why? So you can laugh at me, oh Mr. High-and-" He cut you off by leaning over the counter and kissing you earnestly. "Oh, that's nice," You said once you pulled away. 

"Just nice?" He smirked. "I guess I'll have to work on that." He kissed you once more before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"I just remembered something!" You gasped. 

"What's wrong?" You quickly pulled out the pamphlet Tony had made you about the suit testing. You then gestured to a paragraph under a subheading of RECORDING ANY AND ALL TEST RESULTS

ALL TEST RESULTS MUST BE RECORDED BY THE TESTERS USING THE STEPS LISTED. TO ENSURE NOTHING IS MISSED, HOWEVER, THE HOUSE WILL ALSO BE UNDER 24/7 SURVEILLANCE TO TRACK ANY UNRECORDED RESULTS.

OUTSIDE - AUDIO/VIDEO

INSIDE - AUDIO ONLY

Loki grinned and leaned into you, lips brushing against your ear. He whispered something and you giggled. "Loki!" You gasped. "We can’t do that here!"

"Oh, yes," He purred. "We can do it anywhere we want if we're creative enough." 

"But outside is so much more exciting," You grinned. "So," you paused, struggling to find the right word. "Freeing!"

"Please do not do anything outdoors where I can see!" You heard a loud voice yell. You both quickly realized it was coming from the monitoring system.

"Steve? Is that you?" You called back with a chuckle. 

"Yeah, Tony insisted I take a turn on guard duty," He grumbled. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted," He paused awkwardly. "Whatever you were doing but could you please not do it outside? Outside has cameras." Loki laughed loudly and you did too. 

"We really didn't mean to prank you, Cap. I thought Tony was on the other end of that mic."

"I however have no objections to how this turned out," Loki added. You whacked him arm lightly and shook your head. "Truthfully, though, we were only speaking of testing another aspect of the suit. I whispered to Y/N my idea and-"

"I get it," Cap replied quickly. You couldn't see him but you could tell he was embarrassed. "I'll make you two a deal. Behave yourselves, finish the tests, and get home early and I'll help you prank Tony here in the tower. Ok?"

"You have yourself a deal, Captain," Loki grinned. 

"Alright. I'm going to take a nap now. Don't do anything stupid."

"Oh we won't," Loki smirked, wrapping his arms around you and planting light kisses on your neck.

"Loki!" You squealed.

"Do you want to prank Tony or not?" Steve yelled. "I can't see you but I can hear you! And that didn't sound like suit testing. Get to work! If you do as you're supposed to, you'll be done in a week."

"Yes, sir," You both grumbled. Loki, ever the mischief maker, wasn't about to let up. He grabbed a towel and twirled it, smacking your backside with it as you walked away. 

"What was that for?" You asked.

"Loki, did you just-"

"For purely scientific purposes, I assure you," He replied. Steve groaned in frustration.

"This is gonna be a long week."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

​Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

@lokislittlesigyn

#loki #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x reader #marvel #avengers

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost in Japan

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post. Thanks for sending it in! 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Premise: Taehyung gets lost while shooting Bon Voyage in Japan with the members. Thankfully, he runs into you.

You were fairly certain that your eyes were deceiving you. Standing awkwardly outside of a convenient store, staring down at a map that one of the employees was holding up, stood Kim Taehyung. 

His Japanese was only getting him so far. From what you could hear, it sounded like the real problem was the fact that he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to be in the first place. 

You weren’t the only one that was starting to notice who was loitering about downtown Aomori. 

Taehyung kept glancing up, assessing the growing crowds that were beginning to form, all of them waiting anxiously for the light to change to cross the street. The employee seemed to notice his worry, beginning to lose his patience. 

“Take the map,” the employee sputters out. “Just buy it really quickly. It looks like you need to get going soon.”

Taehyung blanches. “Er...I don’t have my wallet on me...” he pats his jeans as though his wallet might magically appear. “Could I come back later...?”

The employee looks a bit uncomfortable, mirroring Taehyung’s expression. “I don’t know...if you’re lost already, who’s to say you’d be able to find your way back?”

You hardly realize how close you’ve gotten, but as you watch Taehyung’s eyes drop to his shoes and red color his cheeks, you take the last few strides up to him. Both men look up at you, apprehension in their eyes.

“How much is the map?” You ask without thinking, already fishing your wallet out of your bag. 

Taehyung stares at you with unabashed embarrassment. “Oh, really don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

You shrug, already handing over some cash to the shocked employee. “It’s fine. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blinking at you like you might have suddenly grown another head, Taehyung slowly shakes his head. “...no. I’m not. Do you know...who I am?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you barely manage to contain your grin. “Do you mean have we met?” You shake your head, taking the map the employee extends out to you and folding it meticulously. “No, I don’t think we have. Are you lost?”

Again, Taehyung looks a bit dazed but nods his head nonetheless. “I am, actually.”

Now you allow yourself to smile at him fully, fidgeting a little at how intensely he’s looking at you. “Well, I can call you a cab if you want. Just explain to me where you’re trying to get to.”

“Can I trust you?”

You blink, heart aching a little at the question. “I would say yes, but I’m a little biased. But either way, it looks like you’ve got about...ten seconds to make a decision.”

The traffic lights change, and suddenly a horde of people are making their way across the street and heading straight toward the convenience store. The employee has already retreated indoors, appearing to be boarding up for a storm. Taehyung looks back and forth between you and the other group almost comically before stepping toward you.

“Alright, let’s go.”

~~~~

After some careful maneuvering through the convenience store and out into the back alley, Taehyung chuckles. You give him a quizzical look, marveling as he runs a hand through his curly hair. 

“What’s so funny?”

Taehyung shrugs, giving you a genuine smile. “I feel like James Bond or something!”

“I’m pretty sure James Bond doesn’t get lost so easily,” you tease, heading down the alleyway with the idol in tow. “So where exactly are you trying to get to? Describe it to me.”

Taehyung does just that, and you recognize the location almost immediately. “Really? I know exactly where that is.” Heading toward the street, you wave down a cab. “I’ll just give them the address and they’ll take you straight there-”

“Um, about that...” Taehyung watches with a wary eye as the cab pulls over. “I don’t have any money, remember?”

“Ah...I’ll just pay him right now. Don’t worry about it.”

You lean down to speak to the cab driver but stop as Taehyung’s hand lands on your elbow. Ignoring the blush undoubtedly creeping up your neck, you look back at him.

“I’ll Venmo you,” he says.

“...ok.”

“But...”

“But?” You straighten, frowning. “What?”

Taehyung looks at the cab, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, don’t you want to get your money’s worth?”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting in the backseat of a cab giving Kim Taehyung a tour of Aomori. 

You whiz past several monuments, wracking your brain for some sort of historical fact you can give the idol. Whatever you do say isn’t all that impressive, but Taehyung goes along with it. 

“You’re an amazing tour guide,” he croons, a teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, pointing out the window to the setting sun.

“And here we have the sunset. This phenomenon happens every evening, and is often subject to many poor-quality photos.”

Taehyung laughs, going along with your joke. “So why do people take pictures if they don’t turn out right?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe because they want to remember it? But it never turns out as good as the real thing.” This time you laugh along with Taehyung before something catches your eye.

“Oh!” You all but shout, pointing frantically at an upcoming building. “This is the hidden gem of Aomori. Best restaurant ever.”

Taehyung follows your line of sight, eyes landing on a dingy restaurant. it’s small, one of those that you’ll miss if you blink. He smiles softly, glancing back over at you with a curious expression. Leaning forward in his seat, he taps the cabbie on the shoulder. 

“Pull over please. We’ll be stopping here.”

You try to protest, frowning at him. “But we’re not there yet, and it’s too far to walk-”

“We’ll take another cab,” Taehyung reassures you. “C’mon. Dinner’s waiting.”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, seated across from Kim Taehyung in a restaurant that you’d never realized was so run-down until you were bringing a global star through its doors. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. No, Taehyung is grinning as he orders his food, looking over at you every so often. You do your best to not notice, with no success. 

“I’ll have the yakitori as well, please,” you manage to choke out. Hopefully the warmth inside the restaurant is a good enough excuse to cover up the redness in your cheeks. 

Taehyung sips on his drink, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Here, let me Venmo you.”

“Oh,” you start, shrinking back in your seat. “It’s fine, really. This was kind of my idea-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Taehyung clarifies. “And now I’m treating you to dinner. So, Venmo. Now, please.”

Looking at the way his hair falls into his eyes and those eyes appear so solemn yet boyish at the same time, you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to him. 

You certainly can’t.

Taehyung begins asking you simple questions, and you fire them right back at him while you wait for your food. 

“Why are you in Japan?” You ask, taking a long sip of your drink. Taehyung sits back in his seat, looking around the restaurant. 

“I’m visiting with friends. On a vacation of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” You arch an eyebrow. Taehyung smiles softly, eyes alight with some sort of inner glow. 

“How do you know your way around so well?” He asks, completely ignoring your latest question. You decide not to push it. 

“I’ve lived here for a while,” you shrug, watching as a waiter appears with your chicken skewers. Your mouth waters at the mere sight of them, and Taehyung chuckles while watching how your expression changes. “Cheers,” you croon, immediately diving in. 

Taehyung follows suit, groaning as the chicken makes his tastebuds dance. “This is amazing.”

You grin, waving the skewer in the air before chomping down. “Told you so.”

You’ve made it through nearly two skewers before you realize that the two of you have been eating in complete silence. Glancing up, you see that Taehyung must be thinking the same thing as he looks over at you with a sheepish smile. 

Covering your mouth, you cackle and relish in the way Taehyung laughs right along with you. He’s read your mind, setting down his skewer and quickly answering a text before returning his attention to you. 

“Are those your friends wondering where you are?” You ask, heart dropping a bit. Taehyung nods. 

“Yeah. I told them that I’ll be back a little later.” He grabs another skewer. “Should we head out?”

You finish off your chicken, trying your best not to look a little crestfallen as you agree. Taehyung smiles warmly, thanking the waiter profusely as the two of you head out. 

This time Taehyung waves down the taxi, repeating the address you told him earlier. “That’s the right place, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve got it.” You take a step back. “Thanks for the food.”

He looks back at you, the cab drawing nearer. “Thanks...for everything today.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I actually had a lot of fun.”

You grin. “Me too.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before extending it out to you. “Could I maybe have your number?”

Now you’re unable to stop grinning, and you quickly type your number in, triple checking that it’s correct before handing his phone back to him. “There you go. Now, you should probably get going. Cab’s waiting.” You begin to walk away, not wanting to look like some lost puppy as he leaves. 

Taehyung nods, that dazed look back in his eyes as he hesitates. “Actually...” You whirl around a bit too quickly to be casual, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Could we maybe take a photo together?”

You smile, recalling a bit of your conversation from earlier. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that takes low-quality photos of the sunset.”

Taehyung’s face lights up, a laugh rumbling through his chest. He meanders over to you, smiling down at you. “What? I want to remember this.” His eyes convey the message that his lips fail to speak. I want to remember you.

So you smile for the picture, and ask him to send it to you. As you wave goodbye as the car takes off down the street, you jump a little when your phone pings twice in a row. 

The first is a message, the photo Taehyung just took. 

The second is a Venmo notification sporting a ridiculous amount of money with the caption, Cab $ - let me know when you make it home.

~~~~

It’s only three days later that you find yourself sitting near the back of a large room, fans everywhere chatting or singing along to whatever song is currently playing. You smile down at your phone, Taehyung’s contact coming up as he sends off a text. 

Tae: I’ll call you in a couple of hours, heading into a meeting. 😊

You snort. He has no idea that you’re here, does he?

The past few days have been a dream, living in nearly constant contact with Taehyung while he enjoys his time here in Japan. However, you never quite found the right time to tell him that you actually know who he is. Let alone the fact that you were going to be in attendance at the fan meeting today.

A couple of moments later the boys appear at the front of the room, and the event begins. 

Your heart pounds as you line up to meet the boys, clutching the item in your hands that you brought for Tae. Most of the boys don’t recognize you, which you expected. Only Jimin gives you a double take, but he shrugs it off a moment later. 

He must have seen the photo Taehyung took with you.

Tae hardly looks up from where he’s focused on each fan, making you smile. The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears as you step forward until you’re in front of him. He’s looking at the fan that just left, who’s still speaking to him. 

You slide your photobook across the table to him, and he immediately begins to sign it. 

“Have you been having fun so far?” He asks, still not quite looking up at you. You grin.

“I have,” you say. Then, sliding the same map you bought from the convenience store toward him, you say, “I got you this. You know, just in case you decide to get lost again.”

Taehyung frowns but looks at the map. His mouth falls open before looking up at you, that beautiful smile taking over his features. He has to physically restrain himself from leaping up, but settles for grabbing your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he breathes out.

You smile, and wonder for a moment if you’ve stopped smiling in the past three days since you met Taehyung. “Hey. So, do you like your gift?”

His eyes never leave your face as he grips your hand a bit tighter. “It’s great, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Oh?”

“Not when I have you as my personal guide.”

masterlist

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #v x reader #tae x reader #tae x y/n #bts x reader #taehyung fluff #kth fluff #kth x reader #bts fluff #bts request #bts requests #taehyung requests

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 5, 2024

I’m still recovering slowly. I never mentioned this because I want to be as vague as I can about my big congenital medical issue, but the surgery last week removed some tissue that affects my endocrine system, and now that it’s gone I’m having some problems with my mood. I have a medicine that corrects it, but I need to wait another week and a half to get my dosage adjusted, so all next week I’m going to be volatile which sucks. Stomach has seemingly gotten better though so hopefully that pain was just caused by those cysts and nothing else was wrong. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much tonight, I am loopy because of the endocrine stuff so I might go on too long. Anyway artstuffs.

I got a music project done. It was for Mav, and it was pretty small but I stayed up all night working on it. Working on it I discovered a big set of plugins that I got somewhere that look to be automatically doing some of that balancing I was worried about. I still need to double check what exactly it can do, since I’d like a widener plugin, but I don’t want to stack my brain over it if I already have one. I have a few ideas floating around for the next song thing, I’m a bit hesitant on continuing that vocal one I haven’t finished because I watched a bunch of videos today in the bad lyrics of the Wish soundtrack, and the lady kept bringing up cadence and pentameter which are concepts I know about but can’t hear. Like, pentameter is supposed to be the natural inflection a syllable has, but like whenever I hear it, I just hear the inflection of the vocalist. I think I’m overthinking it, since she used a writing scheme to explain it and I think the vocaloid software uses that same writing scheme so maybe I can learn through practice? Or I can just write lyrics that match the melody and call it good as long as the flow sounds natural because of subconscious understanding, like how I figured out how to do harmonies. Whatever. Music theory is hard but my stupid will and brute force is harder.

Other instrumental things I’ve been kinda thinking about include a little Zelda medley that I already recorded the melodies and stuff for, instrumental themes for my OCs because of course. And then I kinda want to just do a big fat medley that goes on for like an hour-ish because I love those kinds of medleys they’re great for car rides and stuff. And the final two I’m thinking about would be for animation memes: either an arcade beat-em-up style boss fight sounding theme, or a cover of a 90s pop-punk-rock (idk what genre) song. I think that one would be cool because I could use it as promotional stuff for a comic.

Oh yeah that O’Malley comic! I actually did good thumbnail work on that this week! I was going to do more today but mood and sleep schedule were wonky, plus I had a meeting this morning, so good chance I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But either way, chipping away at it, trying to watch more movies so I can get better at understanding shot comp, watched Kill Bill part 1 last night and wasn’t expecting it to be like, the best fucking movie ever? Like why does everyone talk about it like ‘eh it’s pretty good’ like no that shit was *Phenomenal*! Hoping part 2 lives up to the first, planning to watch it maybe tomorrow night? Definitely before I go back to uni. Anyway pitch comic is coming along nice, after it’s drawn I can either work on the rest of that story or a pitch for the secondary story I’ve been working on, depending on demand. Right now leaning towards series, since I have general synopsies for a couple more general ‘episodes’.

Also only done like one general drawing for comsheet practice hehehe it’s fine I can try others as time comes and is appropriate. Also did epithet stuff but not as much as I’d like. My original plan tonight was to work on TTRPG stuff but maybe I’ll do writing or thumbnailing instead. Or maybe both.

TRGA: got shot 1-4 done enough. Also got Jon tweened for 1-5. I need to clean him up and do his face and stuff. Tonight maybe if I’m having trouble focusing on the other stuff I’ll clean him up, I think I want to go back to that ‘one significant development a day’ schedule I was on for a bit, but pushed a bit further since I have better strategies now. I’ve also started the ‘every time I sit down and open clip studio I’m going to draw one (1) prop’ strategy so hopefully props won’t be as bad in the future either (even the ones I can’t just recycle). Tomorrow if I’m doing better I’ll try to get 1-5 Jon’s face done (and clean him up too if I don’t tonight) and maybe do another drawing. Maybe more epithet TTRPG stuff maybe not.

I’m trying to get my priorities back in order. 1) TRGA 2) Comic work 3) fix your commissions 4) other projects. Inspiration is fickle though so I’m really all over the place. My mood being volatilized is also not helping but I’ll keep going until my brain explodes. For now I’m able to plan out enough with time for sleep and stuff. I don’t know what’s exactly going to happen when classes start but I am taking *fewer* credits than normal so theoretically that means more time.

#weekly update