#also i tried drawing a beard for like the second time

[taintedcigs]

eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x tattoo artist!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine

[m-artsoul]

23/05/23

"Why are you so stubborn?" asks Cas. The gauze in his hand feels so alien and wrong. He could get rid off those injuries in a one swift move of his hand if not for the hunter's determination to be treated in the human way. Perhaps Cas still has a lot to learn about humanity because why one would choose the slower option while given a quick way out? Perhaps Dean's reddening face should be the missing clue...

reply to be added to the tag list

NOTE: didn’t feel like drawing beards so here’s earlier seasons boys. i tried this pose once before but it turned out completely different so here’s a second take. i love reading about cas tending to dean’s wounds (i mean, it’s like the third time i draw dean with bandages, go figure...) and the implication of touch-starved dean seeking comfort in those moments.

this is the second time i use gardenia in my pieces and what can i say, it’s a very pretty flower with a fitting meaning: you're lovely, secret love.

also! i’d like to thank you all for your support these past few months :> i read all of your lovely tags and comments and they fill me with a lot of joy, so thank you.

tag list: @gaymishacollins ; @dakrapatops ; @hauntedpearl ; @vwwingsandthings ; @your-endless-oblivion  ; @jessika12-3​ ; @malicmalic​ ; @pleaseraisemefromperdition

#art #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spncreatorsdaily #spndaily #deancas #casdean #spn #fanart #mgeekingout #digital #full color #2023

[viking-raider]

Salt in Our Wounds - Chapter I

Summary-> You and your family live in a tiny coastal town, on the French side of the English Channel, during the Second World War. Things aren't easy for the four of you, for obvious reasons, with France being under German Occupation. But things become ever more complicated, when you find a wounded man washed ashore and you feel obligated to help him.

Dragging your family and town into a dangerous situation.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 4.3k

Warnings-> PG: Blood, Language, Infidelity

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

Climbing and cloudless, the sun beared down on the sapphire English Channel below. Its roaring waves lapped against the shore of one of France's many serene and far-reaching beaches, washing in bits of seaweed and sea life with its eddies and tides. A trio of gulls circled above one area of the shore, letting out their shrill call in agitated excitement, while making mock dives for the prize they had their beady eyes on.

You, out on an early morning, seaside walk, lifted your hand against the shining sun, to study the sea birds. Interested in what they were so adamant about, but also felt cautious, as you approached. Since times were not the best to find surprises on the beach. Especially not here, along the Channel. But you couldn't stop your curiosity, and edged ever closer to the birds and their would-be meal. The nearer you got, the more you felt a growing alarm, seeing the foamy, salt water tinged with something red.

You froze, horrified to see the water rushing by your bare feet. Realizing it was blood. Following the tentacles of blood a few meters up the beach, you found the shock of a lifetime.

Startling back with a yelp, you tripped over the wet hem of your skirt and tumbled backwards, falling hard and knocking some of the air out of your lungs. Eyes fixed on a limp hand gently floating in the water, the skin of the finger-pads wrinkled from long water exposure. But it was the man attached to the arm that alarmed you, his thickly bearded face turned to one side and rocking to the ebb and flow of the water he laid half submerged in, a wound somewhere on his person seeping out around him.

You were sure he had to be dead, why else would he wash ashore in the freezing Channel water. You had only been sitting in it for a few, short minutes and were already shivering, while he only stirred because of the current.

Poor man. You thought, your brow pinching with heartfelt sympathy for him and whoever his family was.

Finally getting to your feet, you twisted some of the water out of your skirt, frowning to see some of his blood had soaked into the rough fabric. But there was no help for that. You knew you'd have to return to the village and inform the authorities of him. So they could retrieve his body. Especially before the village kids found him. The evil little rascals. They enjoyed poking at anything dead that washed ashore. You'd seen them pestering a poor seal corpse just last week. But you also knew, you should actually make sure he was deceased, before running off to inform Director General Trottier about him. You just needed to find the courage to draw closer and touch him.

To hold a hand against his nose, in search of any breath.

“Perhaps I should just go get the authorities to do this?” You mumbled to yourself, wringing your hands anxiously. “They have the experience.” You tried to reason, looking over your shoulder towards the village. “But what if he is still alive.” You said, looking back at him. “And he dies, while I run back for help.”

“Christ, why did you have to wash up here?” You huffed, a rush of frustrated confidence flooding you.

You waded to him and bent, bringing your dripping hand up to his nose and held still for a long time. Wanting to make sure it was actually his breath against your palm, and not the wind. The longer you left your hand there, the more positive you became that this strange man was still, to some degree, alive.

That just left the conundrum of what to do with him.

You needed to get him out of the icy water, that was for sure. If he didn't die from his wound and blood loss, he would surely suffer from hypothermia. He only had on a thin, long sleeve and half-button down, collared shirt and pants of the same material, paired with suspenders, belt and boots.

“What were you up to?” You frowned at him, seeing he was bleeding from a wound to the right side, before hooking your arm under his shoulder and bracing it under his, then started pulling his heavy body further up dry land; as far as you could get him. “Mmph!” You grunted, laying him down in the sand, unable to carry him any further.

“Oh gosh.” You panted, flicking back several windblown wisps of hair out of your face. “You are a beast of a man.” You were about to try and move him a little bit more, when you heard your name being called, and felt your heart jolt into your throat. “Oh, Christ.” You fretted, hands beginning to shake, sure you were busted by one of the patrol officers.

You frantically looked around, but there was nowhere to hide the man, you were in the open and the beach was mostly flat and smooth. So, you did the one feeble thing you could think of, you rushed around and put yourself between them and him.

Though, you found it to be useless.

“What are you doing?” Your brother huffed, coming up to you, breathless, before finally spotting the unconscious man you were trying to shield. “Who the hell is this?” He barked, waving a hand behind you.

You started to lie to him, but saw the look in his eye and gave that up. “I found him in the water.” You blurted out, turning around to face him. “He's still alive. Barely. He's been wounded in the side by something. But I pulled him out of the water and I was going to get help.” You looked at your brother, eyes wild. “However, you showed up.”

Your brother looked at you, critically, obviously furious. “That's a bullet wound!” He hissed at you, grabbing the front of the man's shirt and rolling him onto his uninjured side, to get a closer look.

“He's been shot!” You gasped, leaning over to see. “We have to help him, Edmund.”

“Help him!” Edmund barked, lifting a brow at you. “Are you quite out of your mind! If the Patrol finds him with us, they'll finish killing him and likely throw us in an interment.”

“Edmund.” You whispered, gasping the back of his arm.

He stared at you for a long second, then growled down at the man. “Fine.” He huffed, begrudgingly. “I just don't know how you expect us to move him, without getting caught by the Patrol.” He said, looking back towards the village, it was a good two hundred yards away, plus the eighty or so yards from the edge of the beach, along the edge of the village and to where you lived with your elderly father.

“What about your truck?” You perked up, looking at him, your eyes bright with the idea. “We can carry him to the edge of the beach, hiding him. I'll stay nearby, to keep an eye on him, while you go get your truck and come back. Then, we'll put him in the back and cover him with some of your tarps. Perhaps, take a short drive to some place and go back home. To reduce suspicion.”

Edmund stared at you, his expression conveying how skeptical he was about your plan, before he shook his head and threw up his hands. “If we get caught, I'm going to be so angry with you!” He chided, grabbing the man beneath the arms, much like you had. “Grab his feet.” He huffed at you, jerking his head at the man's boots.

“Yes, right!” You nodded, flustered, rushing around and grabbing his ankles. “Oh gosh, even his legs are heavy.” You groaned, stumbling to keep up with Edmund's quick pace as he rushed down the beach, wanting to work quickly before anyone came along.

“How do we not know this man isn't one of them?” Edmund puffed, breath wheezing in his throat as the exertion became too much for him, but he pushed through it.

You frowned at your brother, then looked at the man, and studied his pale face. Something in your gut told you he wasn't a collaborator or one of the enemies inflicting war on so much of Europe and Humanity.

“We don't.” You murmured, biting the corner of your lip. “However, I just feel that he's not.”

“Oh, you feel it.” Edmund huffed, mocking you. “Well, let's go on a woman's intuition.”

“There's no need to be crass, Edmund.” You barked at him, irritated by his remark. “You have no more evidence that he is, than I do that he's not. But you can't tell me if he was one of them, they'd not have called the patrol to come out and look for him by now.”

Refraining from answering for a short time, to save his breath, while you moved him to the edge of the beach. Resting him beside some brush and rocks that were there, Edmund finally answered you, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve.

“Aye, you're right. I don't think they would have left him.” He sighed, staring down at him, still troubled by the situation. “I'll be back. But if you see a patrol coming, don't try saving him. Just turn and walk away.” He told you, grasping your wrist and staring hard into your eyes. “Let them have him.”

“He's not worth your life.” He said, his eyes pleading with you.

“Go, get your truck.” You answered, softly.

Rolling his eyes, Edmund headed back towards home, walking at a quick pace, but not fast enough to hopefully draw any attention or suspicion. He turned the corner onto the street your family lived on. You and your father, Mael, lived in the cottage across the road from where your brother lived with his wife, Willa. He said a silent prayer, finding the street empty, minus a few vehicles, including his truck, that he used for his trade as a handyman.

“This is going to get us killed.” Edmund muttered to himself, pulling open the driver's door and sliding into the worn, black and leather bench seat, then pulled down the sun visor for the keys.

The truck roared to life and Edmund maneuvered it away from the curb, nervously drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I could have been a Private in the Army, fighting in Belgium or some place. Maybe even join the Rebellion, help liberate this country.” He rambled, gritting his teeth. “But no! I get stuck with a medical condition and a sister that wants to save some bloke that could be a Collaborator!”

You paced nervously, giving the man quick glances, then shooting a look towards the road, mentally urging your brother to hurry. It felt like every eye in the village was secretly watching you. You wouldn't be surprised if at least three pairs were watching from some high window. But you didn't dare look at any of the windows that lined the other side of the road from the beach. Knowing if you did happen to meet someone's nosy eye, it would only implicate them later on, if you and Edmund were caught.

“Thank Jesus.” You gasped, hearing the rumble of your brother's truck coming up the road, though it did little to dampen your anxiety.

Edmund pulled his truck to a stop and got out, never killing the engine as he moved to the back, dropping the tailgate. “Is he still alive?” He asked, coming over to you and glancing at the man.

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip. “I can actually see his chest rise now.”

“Great.” Edmund sighed, carding a hand through his hair. “Looks like the fool is going to live.” He said, grabbing him under the arms again. “Let's get him in the truck. Rounds are going to start soon.”

You grabbed his feet and helped haul him over to the bed of the truck. It was a bit of a hassle, but the two of you finally managed to get your mystery man in and covered up with a couple of the cloth drop tarps Edmund used for work, making sure he was able to breathe. It was just as Edmund was securing the gate closed, that the hard tap of a boot heel echoed down the street towards the two of you, causing your stomach wrench and Edmund to grunt; catching sight of the Patrol Officer through the back window and windshield.

“It's just the kid.” He muttered to you, under his breath. “Go, get in the trunk.” He told you, taking a deep breath.

“Ed-”

“I said, go.” He hissed, the muscles of his jaw flexing.

Gulping and trying to act casual, you walked around to the passenger side, yanking open the heavy door, as the young Patrol Officer reached the truck's front bumper. You gave him a sweet smile and a nod of your head, then slipped into the cab and pulled the door shut. So he couldn't start a conversation with you. He stopped by the window of the driver's door, giving you a wide and overexcited smile, then turned his attention to Edmund.

“A good morning, yeah?” He greeted your brother, who had started for the driver's seat.

“Yeah.” Edmund replied, glancing up at the sky. “Looks like a very good morning, indeed.” He said, grabbing the door handle.

“Truck?” The officer motioned, a questioning look on his face.

“It's my truck.” Edmund answered, frowning at him, not quite understanding.

“What's—in?” He asked, trying hard to work through the language barrier.

“My trade tools.” Edmund told him, turning to face him, putting himself between the younger man and the truck. “I'm a carpenter.” He tried to explain, reaching into the back and pulled out his tool belt, holding it up for him to see.

“Ah.” The Officer nodded, smiling. “And, that?” He asked, pointing to the tarps.

“Nothing.” Edmund said, setting his belt down. “She...” He pointed over to you. “Found a dead seal out on the beach and pestered me into taking it away, before any of the village kids found it.” He hoped to convince him and prayed he wouldn't want to take a look. But, that worry soon passed, watching the kid blanch.

“Yeah, you go.” He gulped, taking a step back, as if he had gotten a whiff of the dead seal underneath the tarps.

“Well, have a good day.” Edmund smiled, giving him a small wave and yanked his door open.

“That took a moment.” You muttered as he slammed his door.

“He was asking questions, that's why.” He huffed back, glancing into the rear view and relaxing as he watched the kid continue on with his Patrol, not look back at you. “Luckily for us, he's squeamish.”

“How does someone that's squeamish get drafted?” You commented, shaking your head.

“Well, he's not really doing anything in the War, now is he?” Edmund snapped, glancing over at you, an offended glint in his eyes. “He's a damn Patrol Officer for a town his Country is occupying. He's not seeing any of the real action.”

“I'd laugh to think if they let his rifle have bullets in it.”

You snorted, bringing your hand to your mouth, in an attempt to cover it. “I'm sorry.” You said, when Edmund shot you a look. “But that boy does look like he'd injure himself with a pocketknife.” You explained, staring back at your brother, who held his angered expression for three seconds longer, then burst, filling the cab with his hearty laugh.

Edmund could never be angry with you, or not longer than a few minutes at least. The two of you were ten years apart, but were closer than pearls in an oyster. Edmund had been planned by your parents, well mostly by your mother, who thought a child would help your father snap out of his shell shock from his time in the First World War. But having a screaming child in the house had only seemed to exacerbate it. Until Edmund was four years old, when he started to show an interest in Mael's metals and memorabilia.

As for you, as Edmund always put it, seemed to have just shown up one day.

He didn't remember your mother being pregnant, only her going away for a few days and coming back home with you in her arms. He remembered her rushing about the house every time you made the slightest sound and telling him to make sure you didn't cry. Which, honestly, wasn't all that often. You had been a quiet and easy baby, compared to him. But he looked after you, showing you his favorite metals of your father's, and telling you how he had gotten them in the War.

When you were five and Edmund was fifteen, the two of you came home one day from school to find your father in one of his episodes and your mother gone. Edmund had sent you next door to stay with a neighbor, while he worked on calming your father down and found out your mother had been seeing someone and ran off with them. It took Edmund calling your father's doctor to finally calm him down, giving him a sedative. The physician had suggested moving somewhere else, that the city life was too much for Mael's nerves, somewhere quiet and abundant with sea air. That would do him a world of good.

That's how the three of you ended up in your quaint, coastal village on the French side of the English Channel. It had a population of just under five hundred. A real, everyone-knows-everyone community. They welcomed the three of you warmly. It's where Edmund had met and fell in love with Willa. It's where the four of you were now under the thumb of German occupation, and with a strange man in the bed of your brother's truck, just passing by the last building and into the rolling hills, that took you to the nearest town.

“All right, wise woman.” Edmund sighed, folding his arms against the steering wheel and leaning forward. “What's your grand plan on getting your Robinson Crusoe into the house?” He asked, cocking a brow at you and dying to hear it.

You had sat beside your brother for the last twenty minutes trying to figure out that very plot point. Part of you really wished whoever this man was, would do the two of you a favor and come back around to consciousness. Then, maybe, you could just say you found him injured on the side of the road and help him into the house. However, you knew if that happened, word would spread and the Director General would be knocking on your door, demanding to see him.

“I don't have one.” You finally admitted. “I shouldn't have gotten us into this mess, Edmund. Maybe, we should just turn him in?”

“Oh no!” He snapped at you, straightening up. “That one Patrol Officer already thinks he's a dead seal! If we go back into the village and confess, we'll be in deeper hot water than if we'd been up front.” He rambled, dragging both hands through his hair, in his agitation.

“Could we keep him in the truck til night fall?” You suggested, weakly.

“And if he wakes up by then?” He asked, blowing a hole through it.

You sighed softly, glancing down at your hands as they rested in your lap, but frowned seeing the brownish outline of dry blood on the light blue fabric. You were rubbing at it, when an idea finally popped into your head and looked over at Edmund.

“How heavy are all of your tarps rolled up together?” You asked him, lifting a brow, curiously.

“They can be pretty hefty.” He replied, rubbing the underside of his scruffy jaw.

“So, it would be almost believable, say we carry him into the house, wrapped in a few, under the pretense we're making a couple renovations to the house?” You inquired, your eyes steady on your brother's face. “It's not like we and the village don't know that Papa and I's cottage need them.”

“Badly.”

Edmund sat there, staring out the windshield, as he processed the likelihood of your little idea working. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth, pressing his top lip down on it for a moment, before popping them forward, a slow wag of his head building into a nod.

“It might work.” He finally said, convincing himself of it. “I'll have to bring in a few of my tools and spend some time there every day, to make it look like I'm actually putting the work in.” He built on top of your plan. “Of course, I'm not leaving you and Pops with this guy, so I'll be coming over anyway.”

“We could use the old cellar room in the basement to hide him.” You chimed in. “In case, someone from the Patrol or anyone from the village comes over.”

“That's a good idea.” Edmund nodded, licking his lips. “I can build something, along that wall, for a hidden door into the cellar.” He said, already mapping out the plans in his head. “This could actually work, Peanut!” He grinned over at you.

“There's the confidence I love seeing in my Captain!” You beamed back, slapping him on the knee. “We should get going too. It looks like our beautiful morning is turning into a dark afternoon.” You said, peeking at the sky. “I'm worried it'll start raining on our friend back there.”

“Oh, he's our friend now?” Edmund teased you, pushing open his door. “We don't even know his name! But, by damned, he's our friend!”

You smirked at him, shaking your head. “I'm just trying to be positive, Eddie.”

“I know.” He replied, a gentle smile on his face, as he reached over to playfully pinch your cheek.

“Quit!” You laughed, slapping his hand away. “You brute!”

“We should do it here. Where no one can see us.” He suggested, heaving a sigh as he got out.

“That's a smart idea.” You nodded, following suit.

Edmund did a quick look around, before dropping the tailgate and hopping into the bed, beside your friend. You peeked over the side of the trunk, watching Edmund pull away the tarp from him, and let out a small breath of relief to see him still breathing. But frowned seeing the small pool of blood underneath him.

“I'll need new tarps after this.” Edmund commented, snarkily. “There's nothing I can say to explain blood stains on them. Short of sawing my arm off.”

“I'll compensate you for them.” You replied, pulling yourself up beside him.

“With what money, exactly?” He asked, cocking a brow at you.

“Hey, I get a decent enough salary working at Remi's store.” You cut back at him. “I've been helping you keep food on our tables.”

Edmund nodded, not about to discredit you on that. “True enough, Peanut.” He replied, then returned to the task at hand. “I'm going to turn him to his good side. I want you to support him and his head, while I situate the tarps to go underneath him.” He instructed you, carefully pushing his hands underneath the injured man.

You nodded, as Edmund grunted with effort to lift and roll him towards you. Grabbing onto the thigh of his pants and cradling his head in your palm, you watched Edmund spread and straighten out the tarps, draping one half of them over the side of the truck. You could feel his faint and warm breath on your forearm, coming in an irregular pattern, but it gave you an odd comfort to feel it, nonetheless.

“All right, that's all of them. Put him down on his back again.” Edmund pointed to the smoothed out tarps as he stood outside the truck now.

Biting your lip, you pushed up on your knees and leaned forward, trying to roll him onto his back as gently as possible. Unsure of how much he could feel. You didn't want to cause him any more pain than necessary as you situated him, catching a slight twitch of his brow as you let go of his trousers, only supporting his head.

“Sorry.” You mumbled to him, automatically, wincing.

“Come on, let's get him covered up, so we can go.” He rushed you, feeling antsy and the cool, damp air stir around him, indicating the imminent rain.

Tenderly letting go of his head and reaching out for the other half of the tarp, you carefully covered him up, tucking it in around him, mindful of the still seeping wound, while trying to make it not look so much like a body in a rug. Nodding at Edmund, you climbed back out of the truck and he rearranged some of his tools, hoping to add to the disguise.

“Here's to hopin'!” Edmund huffed, starting the truck and backing off the outlook, he'd pulled onto after putting several minutes between you and the village. “Or all three of us will be dead seals!”

You and Edmund laughed, having a light moment, before the village came into view and the sobering resolve of action came back over you.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Salt in Our Wounds #Salt in Our Wounds *fic* #gus march phillips #Gus x Reader #Gus/Reader #Gus & Reader #Gus March Phillips x Reader #Gus March Phillips x You #Gus March Phillips/You #Gus March Phillips/Reader #Gus/You #Fluff #Blood #Language #German Occupation

[cryptidclaw]

Cricketstep!

Design Notes:

I love giving enby characters beards and eyelashes i cant help it!!! Cricket only has tiny eyelashes tho :P

I gave them fluffy hair on the back of their neck, does this count as a mullet? I think they would have a mullet.

Fun fact I used the old design's face as the sketch for this one but I gave them a new pose!

Character Bio:

Cricketstep

(Cricketkit)

Nonbinary; they/them

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 8 cycles, 6 moons; 50 Hyrs

Title meaning: -step = a cat who is light on their feet; a cat who carefully thinks out their steps and actions

Warrior of Thunder Order

Mentor: Specklesnap

Mother: Dappledew

Father: Stormtail

Siblings: Downnose

Half Siblings: Star Bluefrost; Snowstorm; Dustpelt; Ravenscourge

Other notable kin: Thrushcloud (Uncle); Shriketail (nephew); Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew); Cowstep (niece); Lambcry (nephew); Ryewhisper (nephew)

Character Summary:

Like with Downnose, they dont really think of Bluefrost and Snowstorm as kin bec they were never like family growing up, they do respect them as Order mates however!

Cricket is an anxiety express and very jumpy but they are the most calm when they are focused on hunting and scouting. They love sneekin :)

They are bffs with Downnose and Mousebite, and they also tried to be close to their little brother Raven since they saw themselves in him. They could tell he was keeping secrets tho...

They are very proud of Ravenscourge when they see him all grown up!

Their gender is pretty boy (gender neutral)

They are mostly just a side character so I dont have much on em, they just vibin, I love them.

They pass away during the beginning of the second arc from illness which is made worse by the famine at the time :( , they were pretty old tho, almost to elder age!

....

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Cricketstep an au version of Cricketkit from warrior cats. They are sitting with their right side showing and their left front paw lifted. They are looking back to the left with a surprised expression of their face. They are a small short furred white cat with orange and black calico patches and orange eyes. they have a fluffy hair tuft along with longer fur on their neck, and longer fur on their chin like a beard./End ID]

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #warrior cats design #warriors #warrior cats #cricketstep #cricketkit #oc #? kindof

[catt-leya]

Hiiii

I was wondering if you could write a fic with the prompts; 1,9, and 17 :)

If not it’s okay! Have a good day!!

Drunk (18+) || Rick Grimes

1. This cock isn't going to suck itself

9. Don't give me that look

17. I really dont care, you look hot and I'm trying not to fuck you senseless right now

Summary: You are wearing a red lipstick at a party and Rick can't get his eyes off you.

Trigger: dirty talk, semi public sex and my smutty stuff

With your lips pressed together, you stare into the mirror in front of you and try to suppress the slight tremor in your hand.

Concentrating, you frown and try not to paint yourself on, like a clown.

It's been ages since you've put on makeup, and when your best friend Charlie brought you that dark red lipstick, you didn't expect to even touch it, but now that she's decided to celebrate her birthday the way it used to be done, with plenty of alcohol and music, you've decided to give the lipstick a try.

The only problem is that you haven't been this stressed in a long time, as you have been for the last 20 minutes trying to somehow get this nonsense together.

You hold your breath and before you can draw the final line, your boyfriend calls out from the kitchen, "Honey? Is everything okay? You've been in the bathroom a long time."

Tense, you answer loudly, "Five minutes, then we can go. Are you wearing the shirt I laid out for you?"

You hear an approving hum and turn your attention back to lipstick's instrument of torture.

Concentrating, you pull the last line and lean back to inspect your work.

You didn't go overboard with the makeup, but the lipstick is fierce.

Unfortunately, you also have no idea how well it will hold up and where you'll end up leaving lipstick marks when you're drunk too, but for now, you look good.

Especially with the white dress, you look like you did before the walker Invasion.

You set your lipstick down on the edge of the sink and turn away from the mirror to walk over to your boyfriend, who is surprisingly patiently waiting for you.

As you go round the corner, he's just rolling up the second sleeve from the blue shirt you picked out for him.

Rick looks so good in that blue shirt that you mentally pat yourself on the back.

Quietly, you clear your throat, "I'm ready."

Smiling, he turns to you and freezes when he sees you.

You stare openly at him, too, because he looks so…clean.

There's usually dirt stuck to his face and he's wearing his pants, which are probably older than you are.

But today he's wearing new pants and his hair is neatly combed back, too.

Not to mention his beard, which he's trimmed, and his eyes, which only shine brighter at the sight of you.

Rick always thinks you're beautiful. Whether you walk up to him drenched in walker blood or wearing one of his old shirts.

But today you look to him as if you had fallen straight from heaven and he was not worthy of you at all.

The short white dress hugs your thighs and the thin straps of the dress leave a lot to his imagination.

But the red lipstick takes away all innocence from the dress.

He can't help but stare at your lips and is sure that every guy at the party would turn to look at you.

Even when you're out in shorts, he sees guys looking around for you, but today they'll be lusting after you and he'll have to block everything and everyone out without thinking too long about how your red lips might leave marks on his skin.

He pulls himself together not to gape openly at you and reaches out a hand to you, "You look incredible."

The way he looks at you and tries to reach for you brings a blush to your face, and you clear your throat softly as your fingers cup his, "You look great too, Rick."

As soon as he can touch you, he pulls you to him.

He's pulled so hard on your hand that you're swaggering against him, having to brace yourself with your hand against his chest to keep from landing face down in his pretty blue shirt and soaking it completely, "Wow, slow."

Greedily, his gaze slides back to your lips and you lightly punch his broad chest, "Don't even think about it. It took me forever to get the lipstick like that, so you can give me a kiss on the cheek, but stay the hell away from my mouth."

You see his eyes slide to your neckline for a moment before he looks you in the eye again and smiles slightly, "I love you."

Your heart warms and you turn your cheek to him, "I love you too and now give me that kiss already. I deserve it."

As you demand, he leans forward and presses his soft lips to your heated cheek before murmuring softly against your skin, "You smell so damn good."

When Rick speaks as softly as he does now, his voice is a little deeper than normal and your whole body reacts to this small change.

Of course he senses it and asks in that exact tone, "You sure you don't want me to ruin that lipstick?"

His hips are pressed against you and his closeness clouds your thoughts so you almost say 'Do it', but at the last moment you break away from him and shake your head laughing, "Stop it."

Rick lowers his head a little to look at you through his lashes, knowing full well you're going for it, but you lift a finger and wave it back and forth in front of him, "That's it. Stop hitting on me like that. It's not fair."

His smile widens and he gives you a quick nod, "And I don't think the dress is fair."

Playfully, you roll your eyes and walk past him to the door, "I'm sure Charlie's waiting."

As you expected, an extremely large amount of alcohol is flowing and you wonder how Charlie was able to find these masses in the first place, but when she falls around your neck and shortly after also presses the first glass of wine into your hand, you already don't care so much anymore.

At the effusive greeting, Rick has taken his hand off your back and after Charlie has fallen around his neck too, he announces that he's going to go find Daryl.

Once he's out of earshot, I quietly ask Charlie, "How did you get Daryl to show up here? He's not into that at all."

Coquettishly, she adjusts her dark green dress and chirps, "I have some talents that can be extremely persuasive, sweetheart."

Laughing, I shake my head, preferring not to ask further.

"Red looks really good on you," she says with a wink and grabs my hand, "Come on. The others were already betting on when you'd show up and your lover would finally get his hands off you."

In fact, you never expected to find a best friend in Alexandria, let alone a group of four people who are incredibly important to you.

But now you're heading toward your friends Jon, Ellen, and Marc with Charlie, and you're pulled right in by the latter, "Well, here you are at last."

Grinning, you take a sip from your glass, "You guys act like I arrived hours late, when it's maybe half an hour. Tops."

Ellen raises her glass of bronze-colored liquid to her lips and finishes it in my gulp before wiggling her eyebrows, "So what happened in that half hour."

You take a sip from your glass, too, "Stop with the dirty thoughts. It's not like we're gonna fuck all day."

Quietly, Charlie mutters, "That's not what I heard."

"What?" you stare at her and she shrugs her shoulders with a grin, "Harry takes care of the gardens, and on the odd occasion he once told me that you two were doing it like rabbits. Besides, you both like to leave the windows open and when he cuts the bushes, he hears interesting things. Especially how your lover likes to order you to bend over and-"

Before she can finish the sentence, you tear yourself away from Marc and press your hand over her mouth, "Okay, got it. Harry? Seriously?"

Wordlessly she nods and you take dhand from her lips, "How old is he, 15? 16?"

Jon stares to the other side of the room and purses his lips, "Bullshit. He's 20 and probably so horny without access to porn that he'll happily listen to your free show."

Shit.

But there are worse things in the world than a boyfriend who loves you immensely and a 20 year old who tells around that Rick likes to make you his little slut during sex.

Sighing, you raise your glass, "Let's get another round. After all, we have to toast to my terrific sex life."

It doesn't stay with this one round and at some point Jon disappears to, in his words, 'test out what this guy is like' and by that he means a guy who came to Alexandria a few days ago and hasn't been able to take his eyes off Jon since and the other way around, it hasn't been any better.

Your field of vision wavers a bit as you look to Charlie and Marc, who are discussing whether vodka or tequila is the better alcohol, as large hands lay on your stomach from behind.

You wince briefly, but quickly realize that it's only Rick, who is completely drunk and presses himself against you from behind.

You wait to see what he's up to, and you don't have to wait long before he lowers his head and murmurs in your ear, "I hate that these guys are looking at you like they can have you."

Fueled by the alcohol, you press your ass against his crotch, "What guys?"

His breath is hot and heavy as he hums, "To your left at the bar."

Your gaze slides to the bar Rick described and sure enough, there are three men you've seen from time to time on the streets of Alexandria sitting there staring at you, one of them less in your face and more focused on your body. They don't seem to care that their leader has his crotch pressed against you, his hands sliding from your belly over your ribs and holding under your breasts.

Only his thumb brushes the underside of your breasts and you take a shaky breath, "Touch me."

He laughs hoarsely against your neck, "Dirty girl. Right here? Where everyone can see how well your tits fit in my hands?"

You don't take your eyes off the three men and breathlessly say, "Yes, Rick. Now."

You're tipsy, but Rick is drunk to the core and doesn't give a damn that you've invited him to touch you in public, and reaches out with his right hand to grab your breast.

His hand fits your boob perfectly and you gasp softly, "They are still looking at me."

"Why are you telling me this?" he growls against your neck and as he squeezes tighter, you sigh softly, "Because I want you to realize that they can stare at me as long as they want, but you're the one who gets to touch me like this."

A 'fuck' slips from Rick's lips as you press harder against his hardening cock, and he sends a shove prayer to the heavens that he's had a few too many glasses, but not so much that he can't fuck you anymore.

Your nipple in his hand tightens and sliding a hand to your thigh, you gasp softly, "I have a secret to tell you, Rick."

He starts spreading wet kisses down your neck, mumbling between them, "Hmmm," so you say in a raspy voice, "I didn't have panties to go with the dress because you would have seen everything under the white dress, so I didn't wear any at all."

It takes a few seconds before it gets through to Rick that you're naked down below, and he could just stuff his fingers in your pussy right now without having to worry about disturbing layers of fabric first.

His cock presses uncomfortably against his pants and just as he's about to slide his hand under your dress, Charlie shrieks, "Guys. For real now? We're standing right next to you."

Tighter than Rick would have given her credit for, she grabs his wrist and tugs his hand off your thigh, "Rick Grimes. Stop drunkenly groping my best friend right now while you're still at my party."

Rick freezes behind you and you can't hold back your laughter as you see Charlie's face, "Oops?"

At that, you wonder how she even knows it's her birthday. Especially since you can't even tell what month it is, but you actually trust Charlie to have been counting, so you don't question it further and she shakes her head with a grin, "New episode for Harry?"

Confused, Rick looks first at Charlie and then at you, "Huh?"

It occurs to you that Rick doesn't know anything yet about you having a 20 year old in your backyard and instead of telling him, you gently push his hand off your boob and intertwine his fingers with yours instead.

Reluctantly, he allows you to pull his hand from your soft tit and breathes a feather-light kiss on your cheek as you look to your best friend with eyes glittering with anticipation, "We'll be right back."

He can't help but grin victoriously in the direction of the three idiots as you pull him by his hand through the clusters of people and Charlie yells after you over the music, "Not in my room."

To be honest, he doesn't even know where you're going with him, but he's sure he'll get his money's worth, so he stumbles more than walks after you and lets you push him into a small bathroom that adjoins the living room.

He takes a few steps inside and his eyes have to adjust to the sparse light of the candles standing around before he turns to you and watches you push the door shut with your back and look at him with huge eyes.

The candlelight flatters Rick's already handsome features immensely and you can't stop looking at him.

You've barely seen Rick since you arrived at the party a few hours ago, and now you wonder how that was even possible.

The shirt sits tight against his shoulders and his forearms are only accentuated by the rolled up sleeves, making your heart beat faster.

Your eyes wander back up to his face and the way a few curls fall into his forehead makes your knees go weak. He looks so bold and like your biggest dream at the same time.

God, he's beautiful.

It's almost ridiculous how easily he can read what you're thinking about in your face, and the look you're giving him right now leaves nothing to the imagination.

He realizes he doesn't have the smallest ego, but when you look at him like you'll do anything for him, it just drives it up.

"Get on your knees," is all you need to hear to groan softly, and though your first reaction would be to do exactly what he's asking, you bat your eyelashes seductively, "You're ruining my lipstick with that, Rick." And at the same time you couldn't care less, but you just want to tease him a little, which works very well, because by doing so you draw his gaze to your mouth and his drunken brain can't force him to look you in the eye instead.

When you part your lips to take a deep breath, he doesn't care how rude he sounds as he growls, "On. Your. Knees. This cock isn't going to suck itself."

You hesitate for a brief moment, wondering if you want to take it any further, but decide against it because you can't wait to hear Rick's deep growl yourself as he thrusts his tip all the way down your throat.

So you take a few small steps towards him and submissively drop to your knees in front of him and look up at him.

He would probably never forget the image of you kneeling in front of him in your innocent dress without panties and about to spread your red lipstick on his hard cock.

How you're looking at him with wide eyes and he could take it all from you.

The cool tile under your knees makes the pressure between your legs a little more bearable as you watch Rick pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs and hold his cock in front of your face.

He loves to see you waiting to finally start and when you open your pretty mouth, he doesn't hesitate for a second before pushing his tip between your lips and having to grab the sink rim next to him at the sensation to keep from pushing his cock all the way down your throat.

Still wide-eyed, you look up at him as he fills your mouth and he reaches into your hair, "Don't give me that look."

You know full well that looking at him while you suck him off drives him crazy, but you save that privilege for right now and temporarily fix your eyes on his cock, sliding it into your mouth again and again, leaving red screams from your lips each time.

Rick grip in your hair is so tight that you can barely move more than back and forth and when it almost hurts, you put your hands on his thighs and dig your fingers in.

It's not long before he's just holding your head in place, moaning as he thrusts deep into your throat again and again.

Each thrust brings tears to your eyes and when he slides so deep into your mouth that your nose hits his pubic bone, you gag.

The gag reflex makes Rick's cock twitch and when you think you can't breathe anymore, you look up at him.

Staring down at you with his mouth open, he can't believe he deserves you.

Seeing you like this is more than he deserves.

How tears run down your cheeks because you don't want to disappoint him and try as hard as you can not to gag.

How all your lipstick is smeared and your fingers cling to his thighs as he fucks your mouth.

Another vibration goes through his body as you start to gag again and he pulls you away from his cock moaning.

His whole body is screaming to cum in your mouth and make you swallow it all, but he knows you're wet and without your panties, it's probably sticking to your thighs, which he's dying to see.

As soon as he lets go of you, you support yourself with your hands on the cold tiles below you and take a gasping breath.

Your makeup has become so indifferent in the last few minutes that you wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and dry your tears, not caring if you now look like something out of a horror movie.

You take one last deep breath and then softly gasp, "I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop gagging. I can do better than that."

Only then do you look at him again and he bites his lower lip hard, "I know, honey."

You feel the need to please him, and that includes giving him the kind of blowjob he can actually expect from you.

But today went anything but as you expected, and he nods to the door and growls, "Go."

Pleading, you look him in the eye, "Don't send me away. Let me try again. Please."

You couldn't stand to have to wait outside the door while he jerks off because you weren't able to satisfy him.

But before you can go back to begging, he brushes a few strands of hair out of your face and smiles gently at you, "Relax. I'm not sending you away."

He puts a hand to your chin and strokes your swollen lower lip with his thumb, "You did good, honey."

Briefly, he slips his thumb between your lips, but before you can suck on it, he withdraws his hand and murmurs, "But you're probably so wet you're soaking the whole floor. Do you really think I'd want to jerk myself off when you're more than willing and ready to let me fuck you? I want you to go to the door and brace yourself there, understand?"

You have to blink several times before what he wants from you gets through to you, and then you push yourself up off the floor.

Your knees are soft with excitement and the alcohol in your body makes you feel everything even more intensely when you turn your back to him and he immediately grabs you by the waist because you're swaying a bit.

Slowly, he pushes you towards the door and breathing heavily, you rest your palms on the it.

You don't even have to look to know that Rick is standing inches behind you as he softly breathes, "Do you want me?"

You squint your eyes and push your ass toward him, "Yes, Rick."

Gently, he pulls you away from the door a little more, so that your hands slide a little lower and you're bent forward so that all he'd have to do is lift your dress to thrust his cock into you.

But where would be the fun in that?

He puts both hands on your thighs and drives them up to your butt, so he can put your dress down on your hips.

Naked and vulnerable, you stand bent over in front of him, presenting your most intimate part, as he takes a step back and sighs proudly, "I knew it was already running down your thighs."

At his words, your pussy tightens and you realize yourself how embarrassingly wet you already are for him.

Silently, he watches you as you whimper softly, trying to hide how much you need it, and when you snivel, "Please" he finally buckles and steps behind you again, "I'm right here, honey."

You lower your head and moan miserably as he slides his cock long through your pussy before attaching his tip to your entrance and gripping your hip firmly, "Good girl. Be loud for me."

You've always been a louder partner in bed, and Rick never thought he could get off on it like this, but the first time he slept with you, it went to his head how loud you could get and end up screaming his name.

Even now you're gasping loudly as he presses himself inch by inch into your wet warmth and growls himself, "Fuck, how can you still be so fucking tight after I fuck you almost every day?"

You know he doesn't expect an answer and as he's inside you with his entire length, your legs start to shake and you whimper, "You have to hold me."

Quietly he replies, "I always hold you, don't I, my darling?" And your heart leaps.

No matter how long you've been together, you still haven't gotten used to how important you are to Rick and what he wouldn't do for you.

You trust him unconditionally, and that's what it takes to engage in the kind of sex you have with him. You know that he wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to and he knows exactly how far he can go.

He gets closer behind you and you try to pull away from him a bit, so that he's not quite so deep inside you.

Then his grip tightens and he growls softly, "You like it when my cock is inside you, huh? Be a good girl and squeeze it. I know you feel stuffed, but do it for me."

When he talks to you like that, you can't help but do as he says, and you moan in sync as you tense your muscles and feel every inch of his cock deep inside you.

He pulls out of you far too slowly for your liking, only to thrust into you hard again, and you have to use all your strength to keep your arms from buckling and slamming you head against the door.

Groaning, he thrusts into you again and each time you have the feeling of feeling him deeper inside you.

As he gasps your name you lift your head a little and look over your shoulder at him, almost cumming for the sight alone.

His face flushed, he bites down hard on his lower lip and the vein on his neck stands out clearly.

You're barely able to make anything but high-pitched noises when your eyes fall on the door and you wince, "Rick, the door."

Between thrusts he growls, "What about it?"

His cock hits the right spot inside you at that moment and you jerk around him and yip, "The party's right on the other side. They can hear everything."

That's when he grabs your hair again and pulls your head back enough to growl in your ear, "I really dont care, you look hot and Im trying not to fuck you senseless right now."

With that, your hands slide off the door and Rick presses your back against his chest.

Before you can even bring a sound past your lips, his mouth is already on yours, pushing his tongue into you without restraint.

Again you tighten around him and notice a knot forming in your stomach and whimper into his mouth, "I'm cumming. I can't hold it back."

In a low voice he grunts, "Let go. Tighten around me and show me how much you want me."

That's when a high and drawn out sound releases from your throat and with the first contraction Rick's cock starts twitching too and gasping he fucks us through your climax.

You cling limply to Rick's hand as he sets you down and pulls up his pants with his free hand, "I love you."

You smile weakly at him and murmur, "I love you too."

All the adrenaline is pumped out of you and even Rick seems a little sluggish as he helps you clean yourself up and then wipes the remnants of your make up off your face with a wet rag and says softly, "You looked really great with that red lipstick, but you don't need that at all. You look downright gorgeous as it is."

Gently, you smile at him and take him by the hand as you open the door and step out.

Immediately, a handful of heads turn to look at you two and Charlie appears next to us with her lower lip pushed forward.

Reproachfully, she looks at Rick, "Can you please tell a few gentlemen your secret to making her scream like that? I want to experience that sometime."

Then she looks at you and laughs softly, "Maybe you should get the remnants of your lipstick off your lover's face too."

You jerk your head around and sure enough, Rick looks like he's kissed a bloody wound.

He looks at you questioningly and you set about salvaging what can be salvaged with your fingers and sigh softly, "Why does that lipstick actually look better on you than it does on me?"

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @acciocarlgrimes @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @targaryensswp @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 🤭)

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes x you

[dross-the-fish]

What do you think Erik's past was with women, when it comes to dating and women. I'd like to know what your take is.

"dating" is probably not the word I'd use. Delving into the text of the book there are two parts that stick out to me as indicating that Erik may have a history with women other than Christine this segment here from the scene at Apollo's Lyre where Christine is recounting events to Raoul "You wanted to know what I looked like! Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a very good-looking fellow, eh? … When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me for ever. I am a kind of Don Juan, you know!' And, drawing himself up to his full height, with his hand on his hip, wagging the hideous thing that was his head on his shoulders, he roared, 'Look at me! I AM DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!' And, when I turned away my head and begged for mercy, he drew it to him, brutally, twisting his dead fingers into my hair." Seems to indicate that this kind of thing has happened before. It is possible Erik is speaking generally and it's not definitive proof but it is interesting, the verbiage he uses.

And this scene towards the end of the book when he has Raoul and the Persian in his torture chamber

"What are you running away for?" asked the furious voice, which had followed her. "Give me back my bag, will you? Don't you know that it is the bag of life and death?"

"Listen to me, Erik," sighed the girl. "As it is settled that we are to live together ... what difference can it make to you?"

"You know there are only two keys in it," said the monster. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to look at this room which I have never seen and which you have always kept from me ... It's woman's curiosity!" she said, in a tone which she tried to render playful.

But the trick was too childish for Erik to be taken in by it.

"I don't like curious women," he retorted, "and you had better remember the story of BLUE-BEARD and be careful ... Come, give me back my bag! ... Give me back my bag! ... Leave the key alone, will you, you inquisitive little thing?"

And he chuckled, while Christine gave a cry of pain. Erik had evidently recovered the bag from her." He says he doesn't like "curious women" and makes a reference to Blue Beard, which is a fairytale about a serial killer who murders his wives. There's a scene in Blue Beard where the most recent wife discovers a room with the bodies of his previous wives. The first quote could be dismissed but this is the second time Erik has indicated a dislike for curious women. Erik's lair is canonically full of traps and features a very cruel torture chamber. By evoking the image of Blue Beard in particular the narrative seems to be further implying that Erik does have some history of women and not a pleasant one. It's possible that Erik is just trying to scare Christine out of looking in the room but it's equally likely that it's not an idle threat. He's shown that he's not above putting hands on Christine and treating her roughly despite his claims to love her. I have a personal theory that Christine is not the first but Erik knows she is going to be the last. I've always kind of run on the idea that throughout the book Erik is aware his health is failing and the clock is winding down for him and that's why Christine is different, because she's his last chance and in the end she does give him, not a living bride, but something much more needed: redemption and forgiveness from someone he's harmed. Proof that he's not unworthy of human compassion. A lot of people in the Phandom don't seem to recognize how dark of a character Erik is. I find him legitimately scary as much as I also find him sympathetic and I think he is fascinating in part because there is something genuinely terrifying about him that tickles my love for horror stories. I feel like it's vague enough that you can leave it up to interpretation, so if you don't really like the idea that he's had women in his past that he ended up killing you can chalk it up to Erik just trying to frighten Christine into compliance but I think it's interesting to look at the darker takes and speculate about the skeletons in his closet.

#The phantom of the opera #book theories #literary analysis

[sashi-ya]

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ♡ ᴅᴀʏ 13 ➡ 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒. nsfw .minors dni 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Anonymous asked: 𝙷𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒, 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟹 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛? 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 + 𝚊𝚍𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎? 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝟾 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔! ❤ ❤ 𝐓𝐰: nsfw. shanks is kinda the dom here. usage of toys: vibrator/dildo, cock ring. masturbation. vag sex. 𝐰𝐜: 920 ➡ hentober masterlist

Slick material, almost transparent. It goes up and down. It makes you tremble. “You like this, babe?” he asks. “I do, daddy” she whines.

A little bag with no branding awaits for you over your bed. It puts in red marker “for (Name). Love, Shanks”. You wonder what it could be, he hasn’t arrived yet, you can’t ask.

Curiosity makes you scrutinize the contents of the bag, founding inside quite an interesting surprise. Two vibrating devices; one for you, one for him. A dildo and a cock ring.

“Shanks….” You sigh, blushing with the pleasure toys in your hands. You turn them on, fidgeting with them on your palm to see how powerful the vibration motions are. “Ah.. lord…”

“I see you have found my little surprise” the voice of your lover scares you. “Shanks… what-?” you ask, showing him both vibrators.

“I thought that, even if you are younger than me, you have become old enough to play with my type of toys”

You gawk, nothing makes Shanks hotter than the looks he gives you whenever he tries to get serious and dominant. “Then… why don’t we have a play date?” you propose, smirking and looking at him with your head tilted to the side.

Both bite your lips. And as you call him with a beckoning finger he attacks you. His black coat ends on the ground, as well as the rest of his clothes. Tanned skin, the graze of his subtle beard against your face. Falling into the bed, making the frame creak, both laugh with your lips pressed.

Shanks stops kissing you for just a second so he can grab the vibrator. “Turning it up to… level 2” he says, as the dildo begins to buzz. “Suck it a little bit” he commands, taking it to your sticked out tongue. You do, and when it becomes shiny from your saliva you watch him place the device over your nipple.

“Fuck ~” you whine, squirming under him as he makes your breasts hard and your sex wet. “Lady, is that a word to use?” he scolds you, pressing the button to increase the level of vibration. “I- weren’t I big enough to play with your toys, daddy?” you ask.

An evil smirk draws over his countenance; “We will see about that, cutie” he whispers, taking your panties off. You wait for whatever he is planning to do, squeezing your breasts in between your arms and spreading your legs so he could fit in between them.

“M’gonna use this, let’s see how it goes” the red haired man says, inspecting the little circle thing that’s supposed to fit like a ring around his sex. With care he slides it like a condom, from his tip to the base. It looks good on him and looks like an interesting accessory you are dying to try.

He flops back over you, but this time -and after he had grunt when turning it on- with the ring vibrating around his shaft. Shanks guides his sex so it is properly placed over your wet entrance, perfectly aligning the bullet part of the ring over your clit.

You close your eyes, biting your lips as it begins to work wonders against your core. “Look at you, you are already enjoying this” he moans, because he is also experimenting the pleasure of it.

It might not be necessary to have his dick inside you with such direct stimulation to your pleasure button, but who would say no to his cock? Your eyes turn white, as climax could hit you at any moment, but Shanks won’t let you come so simply. Humping one against the other is not enough fun for him.

He stands up, kneeling on the mattress in between your legs. He pumps his dick a few times, admiring how wet it became from just having it grazed against your entrance. “Use your toy for me, let me see if you know how to use it” he orders, smiling.

“Let’s see ~” you purr, sucking the tip of the silicone toy and taking it to your already needy and so pulsating sex. You slide it slowly, up, and down and then inside you. A whimper plead escapes your lips while your eyes fix on his red ones.

Shanks looks down at you, pumping his own dick now next to your face, with a sexy and superior smirk while you give pleasure to yourself. He orders to increase the vibration level each and every single time he wants, and you complain.

And, it’s not long before you begin to feel spasms taking over your body while pleasure fills your brain.  “Now… fuck me, I like the toy, but I want your dick” you beg, with your tongue sticked out tasting Shank’s salty precum right from the tip of his also overstimulated sex.

Shanks laughs, he enjoys way too much hearing your needy moans, his ego rising as you beg for his dick excites him more than the vibrating ring itself. And, because he is complacent to what his lover wants he gives it to you.

“I wonder how it will make you feel while I’m fucking that little wet pussy of yours” he says, as he slides himself inside you. Shanks does not wait and as soon as he is deep into you, his hard thrusts finish the job the toys have started.

Every blow makes the ring vibrating bullet hit your clit, making you fall dumb into a pit of endless pleasure and overstimulating climax…

“I was right, you are old enough to play with daddy’s toys”

#shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece x reader #shanks one piece #shanks hc #kinktober 2022 #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece shanks #shanks headcanons #hentober #shanks x y/n #red haired shanks #kinktober #shanks imagine #sashi ya #one piece x you #one piece x oc #sashi-ya #shanks smut

[babyrdie]

I gave my Patroclus curly hair and, as a fellow member of the "naturally curly hair" club, I wondered what it would be like to come back from the fight with some parts covered in blood. Really, in Patroclus' place, I would look forward to a bath at the same time as I would regret in advance the amount of time I would spend just on my hair (and in his case, a beard too). That's why he looks so sulky here lol

Armor

I remembered that Achilles' second armor (the one made by Hephaestus) was highly described, but I didn't remember the first one. So I went back to the scene where Patroclus wears it (Book XVI) to get a clue and there is a description, although short: the breastplate was made of bronze and had stars, the ankle cnemides were adorned with silver, the helmet had a horse's plume and the shield was huge. It's mentioned that Patroclus also took a bronze sword with silver ornaments, but I cannot say whether it belonged to Achilles as well. The Iliad clearly says that although Achilles is primarily a spear user, Patroclus did not take his ash spear with him because of the Achaeans only Achilles could lift it (it was a gift from Chiron to Peleus). As you may have noticed, this still leaves a lot of detail out, so the rest I made up from imagination.

I'll make it clear now that none of the armors in my drawing really matches Mycenaean times, they're more like "resembling" Mycenaean times. But in my defense: I've never seen anyone use the Mycenaean armor design when drawing the Trojan War characters either! In theory, it would look like this (although obviously we consider that this piece is old and has already been greatly altered by external conditions until it was found):

Dendra armor. See here.

So I tried to improvise to still get something close to the things I found, but that's it: I still doubt that my drawing is accurate, so let's use artistic freedom.

I was a little inspired by this vase, taking the Mycenaean tunic from it and the clothes decorated with fringes. Another site has attempts at reconstructing Mycenaean armor, which is convenient. Even more convenient is that the site indicates by name who is wearing whose armor (it also has Agamemnon, Odysseus, Diomedes, Hector and others from armies instead of specific characters). There are two versions for Achilles, but both are Hephaestus' armor, so neither is what I was looking for. I used a little of each for inspiration.

However, I still simplified the design instead of copying the reconstruction because I'm not much for drawing very detailed things. I'll probably change it more often, since here I only managed to draw the chest part due to the framing and the pose. And because it's after a battle, not even the helmet is present. So, I didn't do the entire armor design all at once, but rather "chopped it up". Result: I can't guarantee that I will keep what I already have because I don't know if it will be harmonious with the rest when I design it.

As for Achilles' hairstyle…well, truth be told! I've seen male characters being represented with a bun, as is the case with Apollo, but there is a catch: these representations of Apollo do not follow the Mycenaean period! From the Mycenaean period, you can tell that men had long hair, but I imagine by that they mean something more like at most chest length (average, at least). But my Achilles has hair so long it almost goes down to his butt. As a bonus, it's voluminous! It's a very impractical amount of hair, it can't be left loose. I could make a ponytail like Patroclus' (there's even a representation of Achilles with a ponytail), but I think with that size it wouldn't be enough because it's still easy to get in the way, so a bun and an accessory that helps move the bangs away. Of course, this would conflict with the helmet, but that's precisely why it's a low bun. From the images I saw, this part of the head was uncovered.

As for Patroclus, we have no description of an armor he wears other than Achilles' as far as I can remember. In other words, his armor had to be entirely invented, but I still used the same sources to get an idea of how to do it. I admit that I considered doing something generic for him, with the internal justification that he's neither a prince nor a king, so it wouldn't be so unrealistic and I would save time on this drawing too! But then I thought to myself if it would make sense with Achilles' character to not find a way to put Patroclus in a good armor and I came to the conclusion that it wouldn't make sense, so here we are. It took some work, but I'll tell myself that my man Patroclus deserves his non-generic armor too. And since he also has long bangs, I also had to add something to keep it out of his sight.

#tagamemnon #IK #patrochilles #the iliad #epic cycle #patroclus #achilles #achillesxpatroclus #patroclusxachilles #greek mythology #digital art

[laviejaguardia]

It gets a little too much sometimes. It mounts up, a pressure under Joe’s sternum that won't let up, the world dims around him slowly, so gradually he doesn't notice it until it's too late. Especially if they've been doing back to back missions, or he's had to be away from Nicky a lot.

Nicky notices, but also knows Joe's too stubborn to recognize it. He'll insist he's fine, that it's all good, until one day he's sketching and everything he draws comes out ugly, until he tries to find one of his colourful paints and realizes he doesn't even remember where they are; it's been too long since he used them

That's when Nicky finds him standing somewhere, completely still, eyes and expression vacant but his cheeks and beard already wet with streaming tears.

Then Nicky stands close gently, so as not to startle him, and wraps one arm around his waist, pressing their sides together so Joe can tuck there. When the warmth of his body finally soaks through, Joe turns just a little and presses his face on the crook of Nicky’s neck, hiding from the world that seems so grey and harsh into the one place he knows it's always safe: his husband's arms. Then, and only then, he's able to let go.

"I hated it," Joe confesses against the warm private nestle of Nicky’s neck. Nicky can feel his lips against his skin and the wet press of his scrunched eyes. He hums and cards his hand through his curls, resting his own head over Joe's. His curls tickle his nose so he gives them a kiss. "Every second of it. They made me-" he takes a shuddering breath and pivots so he’s hugging Nicky, their fronts connecting. He tightens his hold on Nicky's back and in turn, Nicky gathers him impossible closer, something soft and broken mending inside of him as Joe rests even more of his weight on him. "I had to do awful things so they wouldn't suspect me."

"I know, hayati, I know." His soul aches for his lover. His Yusuf, so full of emotion and kindness, masking them hurts him, it borrows and festers inside of him like an infection. "But we got them all out. You got them all out." 

Joe's breath hitches with the reminder, Nicky's neck feels wetter.

"It was horrible, so horrible, Nicolò." He pushes himself off and Nicky lets him, meets his big brown reddened eyes when he looks up. The lines around them are deeper, hinting at a fraction of their real age. "How can people still do this?" He asks with a desolation that knows no bounds. "How can they- of all the options in this world- I just- how can they choose to do this, Nicolò?" He pleads, not looking for a real answer. "I'm so tired."

Nicky reels him in again, close and tight to his own body, which has felt like half a life ever since they parted. It's been so long, too long. Neither of them does well with distance. And even though they knew it was the best course of action it didn't mean they enjoyed a single second of this aspect.

"I missed you," Joe burrows further into his skin and Nicky starts to feel his soul start to settle in his body. He clutches him closer, tighter, until there isn't an ounce of air between them. If only he could split his ribcage open and tuck Joe inside, keep him sheltered from all of this world's pains, feed him only with his love and show him only the world's most beautiful things.

But then he wouldn't be his Yusuf. He wouldn't be the man who first leaps into danger, yet never does more harm than necessary. He wouldn't be the man able to find the hope in the darkest of time, the humour -jaded and dark if needed- in the direst of moments. 

"I missed Nile. And Andy. And Booker." He lets out a wet laugh that holds no humour. "I missed this," he says and squeezes him again, dutifully, Nicky squeezes him back, drops another kiss on his curls and rocks them softly back and forth. "I missed your cooking and Andy's teasing and Nile's sarcasm and Booker's opinions on cheeses. I missed my family," that last part dissolves into a sob.

"We're here, Yusuf," Nicky reminds him. "You have us."

"And those- god those girls, Nicky. They will never get to go back to their lives, not in the same way. I shouldn't be complaining."

Nicky frowns and tuts, carding his fingers more tightly in his curls.

"We've left behind our own lives more times than we can count, Yusuf. And thanks to you those girls are getting back to their homes and can start to heal. You know their families will be eternally grateful, you've given them their lives back."

Yusuf sniffles and pets his back, a long stroke from the small of his back to the curl of his shoulder blades. The feeling is so comforting in its familiarity Nicky finds himself blinking back tears. 

"I love you." Joe's lips brush his skin with the words. Nicky wonders for a second how many times has that happened by now. No matter how high the number, it'll never be enough. "So much it’s beyond words."

Nicky huffs a laugh, not dismissive but pleased. Under his hands he can feel how Joe's back has relaxed, his breathing is coming more smoothly. "That's not what you were saying a thousand years ago but okay." 

"A thousand years ago you hadn't learned to cook a stew so good it made me weep."

"Ah yes, the stew of romance," Nicky chuckles and lets Joe push away to reveal his face. "My greatest achievement. Filled our bellies and made you fall in love with me all at once." He gives him a whisper of a smile, lost in the memory.

It hadn't been of course that easy. The stew had been their first meal with meat in months and Nicky had spent more time batting Joe's hands away from the pot than stirring it. When it had been finally done Joe had been practically drooling. At the first spoonful he'd almost couldn't swallow it with the way he was groaning.

"Oh Allah be merciful. Nicolò I love you, please marry me," he'd begged over Nicky's snorting laughter.

Nicky hadn't thought much of the comment at the time, taking it for the jest between friends it had been. It was in the middle of the night, gripped with unusual insomnia despite his warm and full belly that the words had come back to him. It had made him realize how far they'd come, and how he couldn't envision his future without Yusuf in it now. 

The deeper feelings would take longer to surface, but when Joe had asked him when he'd started to suspect there could be more between them, it had been the memory of that night and that stew that had come back to Nicky as clear as the night sky. 

Now that same night sky seems to be stuck on Joe's pupils as he stares up at him. His cheeks are wet and his eyes red. He looks tired on a fundamental level that Nicky knows will take him a long time to rest and recover from. 

Nicky brings a hand to cradle his chin, thumb resting on the curve of chin. He had to keep shaved for the job and it’s been slow to grow back properly, another thing Joe doesn't like. Each glance in the mirror has been a sour reminder.

His eyes hold pleas and apologies that there's no need to utter. Nicky smiles softly at him, his chest burning with how much he loves him.

"I know, tesoro, I love you too. We'll be okay, I promise." He tips Joe's chin closer and seals his words with a soft, gentle kiss.

#a little Joe whump cause someone has been getting me in the mood #the old guard #tog #tog fic #kaysanova #joenicky #immortal husbands #joe x nicky #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolò di genova #mmine #my writing #undercover aftermath #demonicneonfishy #usernati #userlyde #nilefreemans #trying to figure out what tags to use is SO STRESSFULL

[apphiarothowrites]

Au where black beard gets his fruit sooner and steals away whitebeards first commander

Bb makes a trade with the worst warlord doflamingo information and alliances for the famous phoenix

Corazon tries to warn law away from the guilded cage that doflamingo keeps. Tries to tell him the man inside is too broken.

“He talks all the time.” Law rolls his eyes, with a proper amount of exasperation of a 10 year old can produce. “You just suck at listening.”

For the second time law shocks both Corazon the brother and rocinate the marine into silence. It’s stupid, it is and reckless and every other thing he shouldn’t be doing because he’s already pushing it with law half the time. But Corazon sits in front of the cage during his watch. The man inside is haggard, blood matting shaggy hair and cuts that ooze. One piercing blue eye stares back out from the damage.

“Are, you.. ok?”

A beat, then raspy laughter breaks out quickly dissolving into a wet cough. “A marine masquerading as a pirate asks if I’m ok.” The man tilts his head, as words pour out in choppy gasps. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

- Corazon now has to steal law and marco away from doflamingo.

-Marco does help slow the spread of amber lead

- marco is mostly sane still but he’s also very very traumatized: bb kinda tortured him into breaking so that’s a thing. He was kept drugged and chained for a long time

- white beard is still looking for marco

- doflamingo goes celestial with marco quite a bit (my property and all)

Uhh yeah, what can I say. I was listening to loser baby again and this is now my new favourite thing.

hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah once again you have the best shit in stock racccoon

When the day comes that Cora-san is taking Law, he knows he has to take Marco with them. With Law passed out and half-delirious with fever in the little single-mast dingy he's 'acquired' (a bad day for the kid), he uses his fruit to it's fullest extent.

The man is awake-eyes barely open with crusted old blood staining his eyelashes-when he silently slips past the usual guard. The key in the lock, normally a loud clanking thing, is utterly soundless. The creaking, groaning resistance of the rusty hinges of the cage have only specks of falling dirt to signal their protest. Marco lifts his head just barely, eyes pulling as wide as they can. A cut under his jaw drips red.

Cora-san pulls on a pair of gloves he stole and sets about removing the seastone thorns and chains in total absence of sound. By the end he's sweating with the effort-each thorn and nail pulling a harsh jerking movement from the man that makes no noise. Marco's wounds steadily worsened and blood flows freely to the floor of the cage.

But the moment the last cuff slides off, Marco throws himself backwards. Blue and gold heat rushes to fill the space and Rocinante staggers to the other side of the small cage to watch in silent awe.

The Phoenix is beautiful, and angry. It's eyes scream murder and it's beak opens when the flames properly clear, but just as the half-hour preceding didn't, no sound comes. Rocinante knows they're running out of time for this to work, so he offers a hand to the man-turned-creature and, finally, lets his voice be known.

"We need to go. I have a way off this island."

The Phoenix's eyes narrow to dangerous slits, but it's wings draw in and the fire sheds off it's body like feathers. The man, Marco, stands in it's place utterly pristine. An enviable power, Rocinante thinks only to himself as they sneak away.

An enviable power indeed, he thinks again as Marco-without a word or even the suggestion of help-puts his healing hands on Law and the flush of the boy's fever fades within minutes.

The thought changes, envy caving under something else, as days turn to weeks seeking answers for Law's condition. Marco disappears on the second island they visit and for an hour or so Rocinante thinks that he's taken off, returned to his father's fleet that he speaks of only fondly with a tired smile. Instead he returns just as Rocinante and Law do to their transport, his shoulders pulled back confidently.

He says nothing of his disappearance.

Then, the night that he finds the fruit, Law's fruit, something changes. He falls, bleeding out, against the most valuable treasure chest in the world believing Law is safe knowing Marco is waiting for the kid just offshore in a raft. He passes out knowing he won't wake up.

He wakes up.

Curled up against his side near his hip is Law, patches of white skin already gaining color. Standing at the end of the bed is a nurse in the most unprofessionally tight set of scrubs he's ever seen. Sitting in a chair to the side of the bed, behind Law's tiny back, is Marco with his head tilted back and eyes closed, snoring lightly.

#AR answers #raccooon once again on that good shit #marcora #finally figured out a ship portmanteau for them!!!

[vole-mon-amour]

3x09, part 1.

The opening with that music is sooo unusual for them? :D Reminds me of circus.

No but the amount of fans there? That's a lot. That's cool, but also unusual.

"Whistle! WHIIIISTLE!" Give him a freaking whistle lmao.

This moment in the trailer is from another angle and it looks sooo much fun there. First Jamie and Keeley, now this. Some poor choices were made in the editing room. Let me see Beard falling!!

What the hell is Isaac doing? Why are they trying to create this fake drama? "I'm mad at you bc you didn't tell me"? He didn't HAVE to tell you. Not even for a second I'll believe Isaac is homophobic. Colin is his best friend, come the hell on.

Scene forward when Colin tries to resolve it and offers to have a bear and a chat, and Issac refuses. Hello???? What IS this???

I dislike this kind of picking on your friend, but the fact that Richard is ok with that and Jan immediately pats him on the shoulder, like, "It's okay, mate." I love seeing those boys being friends.

*whines* Can we, as a fandom, PLEASE jump on the train of Rebecca and Keeley being girlfriends? I've been struggling here alone since s1. There is so much!! possibilities!!! And they look great together. And they love each other. Ahhhh. Ughhhh.

I'm on this boat!!!

"I saw this spa with kittens" Keeley is everything. This show gives me so many ideas. Ok, Rebecca agreeing to go to a spa with Keeley so the kittens walk all over them??? I need someone to draw that, PLEASE?

The way Rebecca looks at her. GUYS. GUUUUYS. That's love.

<3

You know what's going on here? Jamie does the same thing with Keeley. Ot3 when? My tinfoil hat is always on.

LMAOOOO. When two independent women stare you down silently & judge you & suddenly, you're not so tough.

I actually love that they're doing this bc sometimes I feel like Roy is getting too comfortable swearing and acting like a bully and thinking it's ok. I love seeing Rebecca as a boss for real and putting Roy in his place. :') I also think it's bc she tries to protect Keeley, but yeah. I like how supportive she's with Keeley. Girlfriends. Besties.

Jade is the real one. Her look with shitty men, "I see right through your bullshit." I don't buy her buying his bullshit, "he's nice-like." Impossible that she doesn't know what he did to Rebecca and isn't just being nice with Nate about his boss.

You can see that he did that to Rebecca as well & it's creepy as fuck.

Beard nearly had a fight with press. I love that man. The press also loved their time with Beard, so I don't see a problem here. :D Roy is an ass, though, for doing this to Rebecca.

SCREAMING. You honor, there's been a murder. Get Beard back in the room. :D

#natiswatching #ted lasso #colin hughes #roy kent #rebecca x keeley #roy x jamie x keeley #rebecca welton #coach beard #he's getting his own tag as the show comes to an end yep

[bridgertonbabe]

Are birthday crown/ hats a thing in the Bridgerton Household?

If so how is Sophie’s first birthday and getting her first crown from the Bridgerton’s after ABC rescue her from the witch bitch…?

Oh yes they're still very much a birthday tradition in the Bridgerton household, carried on from Grandpa Ledger.

During Sophie's first year at Hogwarts she doesn't actually mention to her brand new friends when her birthday is, not wanting to cause any fuss and seeing no point in telling them, and besides it was going to be one the best birthdays in recent memory regardless since she wouldn't have to be spending it with Araminta or Rosamund.

Her 12th birthday was going well as it coincided with the school day which had all of her favourite lessons and during breakfast and lunch she treated herself to bigger plates of food to mark the occasion - but then suddenly a school owl unexpectedly arrived in the middle of the lunch hour presenting her with an envelope. When her friends asked her what it was she shrugged it off and went to stuff it in her bag when a second owl landed in front of them; this time with a big parcel and a letter addressed to Phillip. When Colin and Michael turned their attentions to him, Phillip equally tried to dismiss the late arrival of his post. However Colin wasn't accepting the excuse and snatched the envelope from him and upon opening it he was shocked by what he found.

"A birthday card?!" he blinked incredulously at Phillip. "It's your birthday today?!"

Sophie looked to Phillip in disbelief as she realised her fellow Ravenclaw had also never disclosed the date of his birthday.

"Well... yeah." Phillip nodded shyly.

"Merlin's Beard, Phil! Why the hell wouldn't you mention it to us before now?!" Colin cried out.

A gasp then drew the group's attention to Michael, and Sophie's eyes widened when she spotted the opened envelope in his hand - the envelope which she had only just hastily stuffed into her bag.

"Hang on - it's your birthday too?!" Michael gaped at her.

"WHAT?!" Colin spluttered.

Sophie's mouth hovered open as she looked from the aghast expressions of Colin and Michael, and then glanced to the surprised look on Phillip's face before she gave a little nod.

"What the hell?!" Colin exclaimed. "You guys do know you're meant to share stuff like this with us, right? Birthdays are meant to be a celebration; why would you hide it away?!"

"It's no big deal." Phillip shrugged at the same time Sophie uttered; "I didn't want to cause a fuss."

Colin and Michael shared incredulous looks with one another, stunned with their best friends self-effacing answers.

"Well it is a big deal and we will cause a fuss!" Colin declared as he got to his feet.

"Yeah!" Michael cheered before the pair ran off.

Sophie then had the chance to read her card, genuinely curious to know who it was from seeing as she hadn't expected anyone to acknowledge it. Much to her surprise she discovered it was from Posy and she wondered how her muggle stepsister had managed to get the card delivered via owl. It only took a glance towards the head table where the teachers sat, where she caught the eye of Professor Danbury who raised a goblet with a knowing smile on her face to provide Sophie with enough of an idea of how the delivery came to be.

"Who's your card from?" Phillip asked, drawing her attention away from the head table of the Great Hall.

"My stepsister, Posy."

"What about your stepmother?"

Sophie quickly shook her head. "It's not really her thing." she replied in a quiet tone. "What about you? Who's your card from?"

"My mum." Phillip replied with a soft smile. "She always gets me magnolia-scented cards." he said and gave the card a gentle flap and a second later Sophie got a waft of the sweet floral fragrance. "We always have picnics, just me and her, under the magnolia trees back home."

"That sounds really lovely." Sophie smiled sweetly.

He nodded with a fond faraway look in his eyes before he turned to her. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Happy birthday to you too." she smirked

"So, I guess that makes us birthday twins?"

The smile on her face stretched even bigger at the recognition that her and Phillip's connection now had another layer to it, her heart warming at the thought that their shared birthday meant that they were always destined to be best friends.

"I can't think of anybody else I'd rather share my birthday with than you." Sophie said, affectionately bumping shoulders with him before the pair of them burst into giggles.

Meanwhile with Michael following after him, Colin had hurtled out into the courtyard where he found his elder brothers hanging out and he breathlessly tried telling them about an emergency. When Anthony and Benedict got him to calm down and explain things in less of a rush, they were both taken aback to hear that not one but two of Colin's best friends had failed to mention it was their birthday.

"Why didn't they say?" Anthony frowned.

"Dunno! They said they didn't want to cause a fuss or anything!" Colin threw his hands up in disbelief.

Benedict's heart panged with sympathy, feeling bad that neither Phillip nor Sophie seemed accustomed to celebrating their birthdays with any fanfare whatsoever.

"What are we meant to do? Even if I wrote to mum and dad and asked them to send something it wouldn't get here until tomorrow!" Colin huffed.

"I could write to mine since they're closer by." Michael put forward. "I'm sure mum would be able to get her hands on some tins of shortbread to send by this evening at the very least?"

"Yes! Do that!" Colin nodded agreeably and immediately Michael began rummaging through his bag to grab a quill and parchment. "And we can make cards during History of Magic - but what else are we going to do?" he whined.

"You could go to the kitchens and ask the house elves if they could make a cake for them?" Anthony suggested. "Offer them an old T-shirt or something you're happy to part ways with and they'd definitely be happy to do it for you."

"That's good, that's good." Colin nodded along. "Gah, I just wish I could give them birthday crowns like Grandpa makes us."

"Well why don't you make some yourself?" Benedict pointed out.

Colin pulled a face back at him. "I don't know how to make birthday crowns!"

"What's with the confused look?" Benedict laughed. "They're easy enough to make."

"But I've never made one before!" Colin continued. "And besides I won't have time considering I've got to find a house elf to barter with and make cards as well!"

Anthony and Benedict exchanged a look and rolled their eyes at Colin's ridiculousness. However, they both knew Colin just wanted to do his best to celebrate his best friends' birthday as best as he could and they supposed it was a lot to put together in such a short space of time.

"Alright, how about this; I'll find something else for you to give them as presents and Ben will make the birthday crowns for you." Anthony offered.

"Really?" Colin's eyes lit up. "You'd do that for us?"

"Of course." Benedict nodded. "Sophie and Phil deserve to have a good birthday."

And so while Michael scampered off to the Owlery, Colin sped away to the kitchens, and Anthony made a start on figuring out what else to give the birthday boy and girl, Benedict began making the beloved Bridgerton birthday crowns for the pair.

Benedict's efforts continued into his lessons though fortunately Divination was a doss that he could carry on making the crowns in without interruption. Finally he was able to finish them up in Charms class, and he even got advice from Professor Danbury about a charm he could implement that would change the colour of the crowns depending on the moods of their wearers.

At dinner Sophie and Phillip were just about to dig into their meal when they were startled by Michael and the Bridgerton brothers singing them happy birthday. Cards were then distributed to both of them (with Anthony and Benedict managing to make their own cards as well to give to the birthday pair), the deliciously appetizing chocolate cake was presented to them by Colin, and Michael gave them tins of shortbread and also gifted them a knitted scarf each which he said was from his mum (Helen Stirling had knitted them for her son ahead of the cold Scottish winter but upon his panicked letter to her at lunch she sent the two she had already made knowing she could easily whip up another one for her son). Anthony then gave them a bouquet of flowers each (which he had managed to nick from the greenhouse behind the Herbology professor's back) and then he and Benedict proceeded to adorn the pair with the birthday crowns. The crowns both turned light pink to match the identical blush on the Sophie and Phillip's faces, both of them in shock at the lengths their new friends had gone to in celebrating their birthdays.

They thanked them all profusely and when Sophie received a hug from Benedict, it went completely unnoticed by the Bridgertons how her mood-influenced crown turned a deep pink to reflect the newly turned 12 year old's blossoming crush.

#asks #harry potter au #sophie beckett #phillip crane #colin bridgerton #michael stirling #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

[adelphenium]

do you have a fave player to draw from each team? or if you haven’t drawn a player from each team (/maybe even if you have and he wasn’t your fave) who do you think they would be?

ahh this is gonna be a long one! i'm taking you at your word and listing one from every team..... under the cut :D

also i've divided it up based on the teams each player was on when i drew them!

favourite players i have drawn, by team:

East

sens: definitely chabby! however i will also note that i have not yet drawn timmy in a finished piece and i am very much aware of how criminal that is. i will try to rectify this soon.

canadiens: i haven't drawn many but probably pk!

leafs: auston bc he's got really nice distinctive features! conversely i don't like drawing mitchy bc he's too conventionally attractive :( another forbidden answer is bertuzzi . he was so rancid i HAD to draw him and it was admittedly fun.. but it was only a one-time thing.....

panthers: obviously matty tkachuk :)

bruins: sway! he's got the sweetest face BUT so too does ully.. hm..

red wings: dylan larkin, gorgeous nose

pens: s. crosby, legendary nose

flyers: nolpat! love his blush and lashes and terrifyingly blue eyes

canes: brady skjei in all his grey glory <3

devils: nico!!! amazing brows

West

avs: natemac, no question. PHENOMENAL nose, dare i say the best. though cale is a close second!

wild: kirill!!! squishy and doughy

jets: i've only drawn heller and his HUGE ears but it was still fun

stars: robo my beloved!! though seggy kinda reminds me of mtkachuk (?just me??) so he's been fun too

chicago: so far only seth jones

oilers: i Cannot Believe i'm saying this but...... connor. he seriously grew on me like a zebra mussel. i had such a hard time getting his features right at first (why is his mouth so small. why are his eyebrows Like That. what's up with his facial hair) but he's. he uh. listen davo propaganda is real and i have submitted completely to it. i love drawing him now

sharks: i've only drawn ekarlsson but he was so fun with the flow and twirly mustache

ducks: definitely jamie drysdale! i am a sucker for freckles..... praying for his contract 🙏

canucks: only quinn as of yet but he is fun and pretty

kraken: only matty beniers but he is extremely fun!!

knights: only mark stone but he's been fun too

teams whose players i have not drawn but want to:

East

lightning: i tried drawing vasy once and it went Very Badly. i think it'll be the same for stamkos. so maybe bogo!

sabres: definitely need to draw jeff skinner!! maybe i'll draw him with ej and josty just to make myself sad

islanders: mat barzal bc he reminds me of a handsome version of br*ndon urie

rangers: zibanejad!! i'm quite fond of him bc he looks like a male bearded version of one of my friends 😭

caps: nicke or sonny!

blue jackets: i don't really know these guys but maybe gaudreau.. he always looks a little freaked out, so. interesting

West

yotes: matt dumba! he reminds me of another one of my friends

preds: erm.... i gotta admit ryan o'reilly. he's very pretty to me and i don't really know anyone else on the preds...... i love tbear but he's a little plain for me 😭

blues: brandon saad, super cute smile!

flames: i've drawn matty tkachuk while he was on the flames but he's otherwise represented on the list so i don't think he counts..!! so maybe naz or hanny?

kings: either kopitar or pld!

i really like to draw players with distinctive faces, but i am extremely partial to those i've emotionally imprinted on.. as well as those i've already drawn multiple times...... you can see i've got a bit of an eastern atlantic bias haha

#also they're listed by division/conference bc i straight up made a list like this a month ago ermmmm... #this was ridiculously fun ty! #ask!

[reinarandraw]

"Why do you cut your hair?"

OFMD Rare Pair Week 2023 @ofmdrarepairweek

Day 07:   Free Day [Art + Fic 700 words]

The reason why I draw my old Sam Bellamy with short hair instead of long hair. It can be seen as a missing scene for The Last Voyage.

Ao3 link [HERE]

You can click read more and read it here!

Izzy had been working as Sam's first mate for a while now. He really enjoyed working for the man because he was always clear with his direction and goal. He valued Izzy's input and never dismissed his concern. He never played guessing games or played tricks on him. Izzy liked how Sam could separate business from pleasure. Sex didn't have any real effect on their professional relationship. Izzy really appreciated how structured Sam was so ready to do anything to help Sam.

One thing that he was required to do was cut Sam's hair. Sam had thick straight hair that would be a hassle if he kept it long. Well, Sam used to have his hair long. Edward also had long hair and beard, but he was an outlier. Izzy respected Sam's decision to keep his hair short even though deep down he thought long hair really suited Sam. He remembered seeing young Sam - pre Whydah - and his glorious long black hair. That was how he got his nickname Black Sam. Sam Bellamy and his long black hair.

He wondered how Sam would look now with longer hair. The man had a peculiar gray hair pattern that was concentrated on his bangs. Sam's hair was also strangely healthy and soft despite the fact they were on a pirate ship. Izzy really enjoyed running his fingers through Sam's hair during sex. It felt like silk.

Would Sam be even hotter with his long hair framing his face? He tried to imagine Sam leaning to the bulwark as he pushed some loose hair strand away from his face. Izzy found himself hot and bothered by his own imagination.

So one day, when Sam asked him to cut his hair, Izzy dared himself to ask him a question.

"Why do you cut your hair?" 

The question caught Sam off guard. "For practical reasons. It's hot here and I don't really want people to know that I'm still alive."

Fair enough. "Long hair didn't bother you much when you were young."

Sam took a moment to think about how to answer that. Sam tried not to keep any secret from Izzy. He seemed reluctant to do it. There must be a good reason for the hairstyle change. 

"Three things," Sam suddenly said. "First, to make me less recognizable. Second, hair loss. Long hair is making me lose more hair.  It became gradually worse over time. I don't think I can pull a bald look like Paul. Would you still like me if I'm bald?"

"Shut up," Izzy snorted, smiling.

"And third," Sam continued, "I can't tell you. It's between me and the sea."

Although he was still smiling, there was something melancholic in Sam's eyes. The palpable sadness tugged something in Izzy's chest, making him want to protect this man from any harm that would come his way. 

“It’s not like I don’t trust you,” Sam continued. “It’s just…”

“Yeah, ok,” Izzy cut him. If Sam wanted to keep it a secret then it was his choice. He could take care of his captain without knowing all his secrets. The fact that Sam allowed him to cut his hair was enough to prove that he trusted him. “When do you want me to cut your hair?”

It wasn't until that time Sam told him about the dark days he had after Whydah that Izzy finally learned Sam cut his hair during one of his breakdowns. His long hair reminded him of his failure. His once pride and joy now brought him terror to his heart. He blamed himself. The guilt tormented him. Sam cut his hair to help him get through the guilt of being the only survivor.

"Do you like me better with long hair?" Sam asked one day when Izzy was cutting his hair.

Izzy's put the scissors away. "Would you like to grow it back?"

Sam didn't say anything at first. "I don't know."

Izzy put a hand on Sam's shoulder and leaned down to kiss Sam on the top of his head. "Do what you want with your hair. I don't care."

Sam snorted. "Even when I go bald?"

Izzy chuckled. "Yeah. I bet you're still hot with a bald head."

Sam reached out to touch Izzy's hand. "Thank you, Israel."

Sam probably wouldn't grow his hair back anytime soon, but who knew? Maybe one day, when the wound had healed completely, Black Sam would have his long beautiful hair once more.

#ofmdrarepair23 #bellhands #sam bellamy #izzy hands #and that's a wrap! #i won't stop my Bellhands agenda until we got Sam Bellamy in canon #or maybe I'll just continue day dreaming about this dreamy man I created for Izzy lol #thank you for omfdrarepairweek mod your tag made me smile

[finchness]

25

it was a good year, and this is a good age. i like the square numbers of my birthday (4 16) and i like it when i turn a square age, and the ages that have been multiples of five (5 10 15 20) have historically been good for me. when i was five i drew in pencil on the radiator of my childhood bedroom and noted that i was five, and did this again at ten, and fifteen, and now i guess this blog is my drawing on the radiator. victoria pointed out that we've been friends for over a decade, and my blog predates our friendship... i remember when my personal post tag was "charlotte is 14." and yet i remain on the website. also i have a beard now and i didn't a year ago at all

it was a good day, too; i ran up and down the small hill by my house 25 times and thanked the past versions of myself and the people who have come and gone from my life. it was hot and i don't remember a lot of it, just that it felt the way phil must feel hitting that big stick against the ground. and then i went to school and did my normal tuesday tasks and sent people hearts and things, and called michael and my siblings and dad on the phone, and tried to call victor to no response. and ate real sushi and watched abbot elementary. a stress-free life. and now i'll go to sleep soon

evaluating my goals from last year:

"consistently apply sunscreen to my stupid bald head before standing out in the sun for several hours" FAILED :(

"give houston at least four months before i decide that i hate it there" NUANCE in that i loved houston, and texas, the moment i got here

"start lifting once i have access to the university gym" FAILED however i can now run 15+ miles without stopping, and victor and i are going to lift together over the summer

"stay sober?????" FAILED although i drink significantly less than i used to; excluding Lindsey and Jason's Great German Adventure I had maybe twelve? drinks total in the past year, and a quarter of those were on new year's eve (and only one since then)

goals for next year:

consistently apply sunscreen to my stupid bald head before standing out in the sun for several hours (second attempt)

eat omurice at some point

go on one date

finish an ultramarathon

#vegan memes

[caw-rky]

New redesign of the pillars :DD And... I'm still unsure for some of them x"DD I hesitate to swap Stygian and Starswirl for example. And I also hesitate to make umbrum (making them more earth-pony like than unicorn-like) and either make Stygian or Somnanbula one. But yeah, here I will just talk about timeline in my AU :DD (I think I will do character by character drawing of them at a moment as I did with the mane 6) The timeline begins with the Unknown Era. Or the time before the sun and moon needed benders. Before the weather needed help to regulate itself. The time when the elements were working together as a well rodded machine. That Era was put to an end at the arrival of Grogar and him breaking all of the natural cycles to control them himself.

We then enter the Era of Monsters, which funnily enough is also the time where the different pony types were created by Grogar. The different earth-ponies type (zebras, donkey, earth-pony, ...), the closest to the originals inhabitant of Equus. Made more resistant and stronger to be able to survive the long hours of difficult work that were put on them day after day. Their hooves the new rythm at which the magic of the ground beats. The flying types (Pegasus and Bat-ponies) to control the weather, one from the sky by creating and manipulating clouds, one from the ground, helping all types of mist. One able of high flight, one able of impressive dashes and jumps thanks to their wings despite being grounded. Both lighter bodies that the others to be easier to control and herd with powerful flying monsters. The magic-type (unicorn, kirin) one centered on the elements of the nature their creator destroyed, one centered on emotions. Their bodies weak and fragile. Some says kirins were a mistake by Grogar, a first try for unicorn, to explain their second form, the nirik. Some says that, kirin were the first try for alicorn, to force an element inside the body of the pony so they would control it. And finally, Alicorn. The final type, the type Grogar would gave to his better followers. Traces shows that most to all tried to overthrown Grogar before they completely disapeared. The one beating him would be Clover the Clever after uniting for the first time the different pony type and stealing his magical source. The Era of Monsters would still last centuries before the Era of Unity begun (The Era still continuing to this day), before the two alicorn sisters unites below them ponykind. But before that and after Grogar, when the pony types are still separated and most thinks a unity as such as the one against Grogar couldn't happen without a world threat, a young Kirin assembles a group of heroes from all over the young Equestria, the Pillars. That group would unknowningly pave the path of unity while fighting the monsters still rooming all over Equestria, bringing chaos and destruction. Alas, they would all disapears a few years only before the sisters step up.

That legendary group let only few traces to new generations, a few tales of a group of ponies fighting to save towns and cities. Most of those tales only talks about six heroes. Fewer sometimes mentions a seventh one. The only sure fact is the presence of the still-famous Starswirl the bearded.

#mlp friendship is magic #mlp stygian #stygian mlp #stygian #somnanbula #mlp somnanbula #somnanbula mlp #mlp redesign #mlp pillars #pillars of equestria #pillars redesign #starswirl the bearded #mlp starswirl #mlp au #mlp pony #mlp kirin #mlp alicorn #mlp unicorn #mlp batpony #mlp earth pony #mage meadowbrook #mlp meadowbrook #rockhoof #mlp rockhoof #rockhoof mlp #flash magnus #mlp flash magnus #flash magnus mlp #mistmane #mlp mistmane