#enough to really have a good time at the museums and art galleries | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. is funded by 13 investors.

#enough to really have a good time at the museums and art galleries

mlmxreader · 7 months

Text

date night w/ MK characters

『••✎••』

: ̗̀➛ characters involved: Kitana, Mileena, Sindel, Ashrah, Tanya, Li Mei, Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Kuai Liang (Sub Zero & Scorpion versions), Syzoth/Reptile, Kenshi Takahashi, Tomas Vrbada

: ̗̀➛ x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ a few swear words here and there

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Kitana

Kitana leads a busy, tiring life. her idea of a perfect date night is kept simple and easy; maybe a walk in the gardens if the weather is kind enough. or just chilling together in bed with a good book if the weather is absolute shit. she's the queen's daughter, after all, she appreciates just being able to spend time with her s/o, especially if she's had a long day.

Mileena

Mileena likes to go all out if she's got the time, but if not, she likes to keep things simple. dates can either be her taking you into a very public, very busy situation like a ball or a festival, or they can be as gentle and simple as a long walk together, hand in hand. it entirely depends on how much time she's got on her hands and how much of it she can spend with you.

Sindel

very, very quiet dates. Sindel doesn't really like her love life being in the spotlight when there are more important things to worry about; she'll take you for a nice meal somewhere quiet - there's a little café in an alleyway, tucked behind a few other shops, that she often takes you to - and somewhere that she can really spend some quality time with you.

Ashrah

Ashrah doesn't really understand dates, but she knows that you like to show her all the different things on offer; museums, art galleries, restaurants, zoos, cafés, aquariums. she loves every moment of each one, but her favourite is definitely the museum; she loves how you light up when she asks you to explain something, and could listen to you talk for hours.

Tanya

Tanya doesn't really do dates, and never has. she cares, of course she does, she adores you - but dates are just one of those things. she'd prefer to bring you home some food from your favourite place, or get you a book she knows you wanted - things like that. but, occasionally, she does take you out; she likes to take you dancing, more than anything.

Li Mei

Li Mei isn't really the date type, either, but sometimes she'll offer to take you somewhere; it comes out of nowhere, a complete surprise each time, but she'll offer to take you to museums, to festivals, to sports events. she enjoys the quality time, and not having to look over her shoulder all the time, but she loves it when you get invested as much as she does.

Johnny Cage

FLASHY!!! FLASHY!!! the best restaurants, always. concert tickets to bands you've always wanted to see live, VIP included. expect a new outfit being bought for you every time. Johnny loves to spoil you, and date nights are no exception; you want to see Sabaton live? he's taking you, and after, he'll make sure that you can sleep in the backseat of his car.

Kung Lao

film nights, 100%. there is nothing that Kung Lao likes more than to either take you to the cinema for a few hours and then out for tea afterwards, or to snuggle up with you in bed and watch old films you both love with a platter of snacks. he adores film nights, and he'll take turns choosing what to watch with you. just don't watch Marley & Me with him.

Sub Zero!Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang doesn't really do the whole dating thing. he'd prefer to just sit in bed with you and read for a while, or to sit near you while you're doing something. any quality time is good for him. there'll be a rare occasion where he can take you out, but it's usually just for a few drinks and a meal - it's simple, but it's always a good time.

Scorpion!Kuai Liang

an absolute gentleman, expect the very basics in the best way. a few drinks and a meal, sure, but you can bet he's taking you somewhere that he knows does your favourite food and drinks. he might be basic, and he might not be flashy, but the dates you have with him always make you grin when you kiss him goodnight. simple, but brilliant.

Syzoth

he likes to take you out for long walks, doesn't really matter where or when; he isn't really big on dates, but he loves going for a long walk with you. just strolling hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing all the same. he just likes being around you, and he likes when you stop to pick up little snakes and arachnids, telling him all about them. it never fails to make him smile.

Kenshi Takahashi

ADORES taking you dancing. maybe it's just the closeness, maybe it's the fact that he gets to have you all to himself. but he adores taking you dancing for date nights; he always throws in dinner afterwards, too, and it's usually put on Johnny's tab. you still don't know why he lets him get away with it, but you know better than to ask. every now and then, he'll take you with him to Johnny's new films, as well.

Tomas Vrbada

he loves nothing more than to go to the zoo with you. sitting down in the picnic area and sharing drinks and bites of each other's sandwiches; it's nice for him to get away with you for a while, to just relax and enjoy being around you. trying not to laugh at people getting chased by geese. Tomas loves it when he can take you to the zoo for the day; just you and him, nothing else to worry about except seagulls stealing your crisps.

1K notes · View notes

rhenuvee · 8 months

Text

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with Genshin Boys [Modern AU]

A/N: This is not important but I almost wrote sea bass with the characters

»»———————————-««

Treats it like Minecraft. Farms the heck out of your island for materials, and makes his own little "base" that's bordered by fences. Has enough wood, rocks, iron nuggets, etc to supply him for a year.

Razor, Bennett, Albedo, Alhaitham, Chongyun, Gorou, Kazuha, Mika, Thoma, Tighnari, Wanderer, Xiao

Chaotic. Attacks you with a net, sends you purposely cringey notes with a smelly sea bass attached, dresses like a hot dog after telling him to dress nice for a picture, probably decorates his house like a demon summoning ritual.

Childe, Cyno (does it to make you laugh), Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Venti

Has sooo many bells... and from what?? He is your resident glucose father, always giving his bells to you to pay your debts. That 75,000 bell piano? It's yours. Really good with the Daisy Mae stonks, buys 100 turnips every time.

Alhaitham (asks you to catch a Coelacanth first), Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya

Broke. You’re the one with millions of bells. Takes so long for him to get out of the tent, and can't pay his home loans for days- but always has money for buying random things like a chair? Sometimes they have bells, but still ask you for some to annoy you. Also frequently gets scammed by Redd.

Bennett, Itto, Kaveh ("why does this feel oddly familiar..?"), Venti

Trash island. They are hoarders (honestly me). Your island's trees are still at the original random locations, along with weeds you have to pick every time, and some unknown "leaves" scattered everywhere. You say this is the reason Isabel gave your island a 2* rating but he denies it.

Bennett, Razor, Cyno, Itto, Venti

Clumsy. Always gets stung by wasps because he never takes out the net on time, falls for pitfall seed traps, and lots and lots of sea bass.

Bennett, Gorou, Itto, Kaveh

Treats it like Pokemon. Catches every single fish, bug and ocean species, completes the art gallery, every DIY. If you need something caught or made, he's your man.

Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Freminet, Kazuha, Mika, Razor, Heizou, Thoma, Tighnari

Wholesome af. This one gifts you sweet letters with nice gifts, aw. Plants lots of flowers outside your houses. Always gives you things you need. Probably decorated a small little space your you two, and gives the villagers nice gifts too.

Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Freminet, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Mika, Thoma, Venti

Doesn't really play video games... but he knows you like it so he tries to understand it. He's like a tourist, following you around, occasionally getting sidetracked by random things such as villagers. He doesn't know about the mailing system (yet) so he drops off gifts for you in front of your house.

Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Diluc, Gorou, Kazuha, Mika, Razor, Thoma, Xiao, Zhongli

Villager drama enthusiast (but chaotic). You tell him about your island and the personalities of your villagers. He goes a step further by making up gossip like "_____ cannot be neighbours with _____ because he cheated on her with _____!"

Childe, Kaeya, Kaveh, Lyney, Heizou, Venti, Xingqiu

The artist. Takes Animal Crossing very seriously. Has only the best clothes and furniture, sometimes making his own custom designs. Terraformed and decorated your island to a T, and takes cute pictures with you in the museum's aquarium, fireworks festival, etc.

Kaveh, Kaeya, Kazuha, Lyney, Venti

The competitive one. Originally he thought Animal Crossing was just a cutesy game. Once you introduce him to it, it doesn't take long for him to complain about Tom Nook being a capitalist and struggling to pay his loans and complete the museum. You offer to help but he insists on doing it himself.

Itto, Tighnari, Wanderer, Kaveh

»»———————————-««

553 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 4 months

Note

So! Idea! We've got a Sex-Neutral/Sex-Positive Ace Dream who has been trying to work more on improving his writing for sex scenes. He's had sex before. It was... fine? But he realizes, as he's trying to write it, he has absolutely no idea how these limbs should be working or if things would even feel good.

So he tries watching porn and reading other works as research. And it helps! But he still feels like his writing lacks something. Authenticity, he suspects. So, he asks a good friend of his that he trusts (Hob) to act out this scene with him so he can make adjustments to his writing as needed.

Hob, who has been pining over his friend for far longer than is probably healthy, agrees cause he's pretty sure this would be his only chance. And if he goes a bit off-script and lets his hands and lips linger a bit too long or holds Dream a little too close, a little too tight? Who's to say?

Dream's pleased enough with his findings. He's still not sold on the intense desire people have for it, but it was fun enough. And Hob's rather skilled as well, so that helps with his research.

Dream also asks him various questions as well. He'll be writing on the couch, Hob's sitting in the chair beside him, when Dream asks him to describe being horny. Which is an experience. Hob struggles through it and pats himself on the back for not immediately outing his feelings for Dream in the process.

Their "research" continues a few more times. Dream's rather enjoyed the time spent with Hob like this. He especially likes their chats just lying in bed, content and worn out from whatever sex scene Dream needed to visualize. He also realizes he quite enjoys the sight of Hob in the throws of pleasure. He likes knowing that he put that look on him and made him feel good. It's in the middle of the night as Dream is watching the gentle rise and fall of Hob's chest that he realizes he loves this man.

Eventually, Hob can't do the "casual" sex anymore. His heart can't take it. He confesses his feelings for Dream, who is initially shocked, but very, very pleased, tells Hob that he loves him as well.

They still do plenty of research together, but now it also encompasses quiet mornings in bed and dates to museums or art galleries and Dream's favorite: falling asleep on Hob's chest while his hair gets played with.

Actually screaming at the idea of Hob acting out sex scenes for Dream. I know that he totally would.

Poor Hob, though. He’s already dying every time he reads one of Dream’s books. He can’t help trying to squeeze out every drop of information in the fictional characters about what his friend might like in a partner. Or in bed. Once or twice he’s wondered if Dream’s make love interest characters could be a little bit based on him? But he quickly represses that thought! It’s a totally different ballgame (hah) when Dream asks him to actually bring those sex scenes to life, though!

Hob wants to make Dream happy as a writer, of course. But also wants to give him pleasure. And he wants to show Dream how good he is at sex, so maybe Dream will fancy him more… it’s all very complicated. Mostly he just loves Dream, and loves having sex with him for sure, but ultimately his ole romantic heart can’t take it any more.

The news that Dream loves him too nearly has Hob falling out of bed in shock. For all that he’d hoped, he never believed that he’d be good enough for his perfect friend. Dream wryly points out that he is far from perfect, but Hob still disagrees.

And yes, the brunet golden retriever boyfriend in Dream’s books may or may not be based on his ACTUAL boyfriend. And YES! Hob really can do that thing with his tongue that Dream wrote about. He does it frequently.

But most of their long and happy relationship stays firmly behind closed doors, where they can love each other and be weird happy gremlins in private <3

#kydrogendragon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

99 notes · View notes

malusokay · 2 years

Text

30 things to make life more memorable

Making memories is such a beautiful thing; what I had to understand is that those memories don't have to be major things like vacations or events. Small things, happy moments, and loving interactions are enough to make life more memorable. <3

Going for walks in the rain. I recently got caught in the rain while on a long walk with my dog, and we had so much fun!!

Exploring cozy coffee shops and cafes. One of my favorite weekend activities you can also read or study while there.

Turning off your phone. reconnecting and focusing on yourself.

Learning about things that you care about. Even if other people say it's a waste of time.

Celebrating the holidays more. I used to be a holiday hater until I just decided to go all out on holidays and celebrate them to the extreme; now I really look forward to them and love the planning process!!

Baking your own bread. Tried and failed many times, but when I succeed, the bread feels special and makes me a little bit proud.

Visiting museums and art galleries. You can also bring a sketchbook and collect inspiration (and look mysterious hahah).

Saying 'yes' to spontaneous ideas. Spontaneous adventures are always the most exciting ones.

Making a Bucketlist for each season. I'm currently working on my autumn bucket list, so stay tuned for that!! :)

Trying something new. I recently made ravioli from scratch and had such a good time; they also were delicious.

Watching sunrises and sunsets. A great way to catch a calm moment; I prefer sunsets.

Learning to be alone. Enjoying your alone time is so important; I love doing my skincare, writing my blog, watching cozy shows, and reading when I'm alone.

Going to a farmers market on the weekend. I have a tradition of having brunch with my dad on weekends, so I like to buy some fruits at the market for that!

Lighting scented candles and wear cozy knitted sweaters. I'm all about the cozy vibe; it makes me feel safe and comfortable.

Annotating books. Annotating while reading really helps to focus; you can also write down your thoughts while reading and look back at them later!

Cooking your own meals. It's such a simple and sweet act of self-care. You can also try making your own Jam or something.

Doing things that you enjoyed as a child. My favorites are horse riding, swimming, baking, and bubble baths.

Buying flowers for yourself. It doesn't have to be an expensive e and fancy bouquet, just some pretty flowers for your room.

Taking more Photos. You can also buy a cool vintage camera (I recommend looking on eBay!) to make it more aesthetically pleasing.

Trying crochet, knitting, or sewing. I'm trying to crochet a sweater for my dog right now, haha.

Planting a plant. I already told you about my avocado plant, but I really recommend it!

Making plans with your friends like going on a picnic. You could plan some themed picnics like cottagecore, homemade, food from your culture, strawberries, and so on; also a great opportunity to take some pictures!

Do volunteer work. You could help out at a shelter, for example.

Writing a diary. Writing down things that have happened and looking back at them feels really lovely to me.

Writing letters to your friends. Letters just feel more personal than text; you can also keep them as a memory.

Dressing in a way that makes you feel happy. Wearing outfits that make you feel confident will definitely make life better.

Petting stray cats. I love cats.

Starting to collect something. You could collect something small like jewelry or postcards!

Playing music in the background while doing stuff. I can't stop listening to the lofi girl stream on youtube, haha.

Going on gloomy walks in the Forrest. Name something more comforting. I will wait.

Please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧

2K notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 5 months

Text

Needed a moment to collect.

I hear the winds of the wasteland blowing through my head because it will feel so barren without them. It's not as if we see them in real time everyday...but... I already miss them.

It's the same feeling I had after the June 2022 Festa dinner. I was so bereft it was mind-blowing. They tried their best to convey what their plan was and to reassure us and they asked us to listen to them and trust them.

Many struggled with that request.

It was slow realizing it wasn't the end and then everything accelerated and these past few weeks/months have been a doozy. Look at what this past year and a half brought us. More Bangtan joy than I thought was possible!

Now, for me, its just knowing they won't be going about their regular crazy days staying up until dawn, or flying out in the morning just to sleep for the next 10 hours on a plane and land at who knows what time where ever, and hit the ground running. Or going out with their friends to a meat restaurant to just eat, drink and chill. Or working on music or choreo or planning whatever. Or visiting art galleries or museums and stopping for coffee on a beautiful day.

They certainly didn't update us everyday about those things but they did just enough for us to know that's what their lives entail and let us fill in the rest. All that's on pause now.

It is hard to comprehend that Jungkook just wrapped up a very successful solo release just to put it all aside and step away.

His heartfelt letter was precious. I expect something similar from Jimin.

They knew they were going to do it. We knew to expect it. Still...

This is something they are required to do, they are going to do and they are prepared to do it.

Let them do it in peace, grace and dignity.

They prepared some things for us. Be grateful.

Though it's tough knowing the time has come, I also know that they are not going to let those wasteland winds linger in my head very long. They are already dissipating because we have stuff coming down the pipe:

We heard last year that the Disney+ documentary was going to be a series and here it's coming soon. It will take us through to January.

And now the excitement is through the roof upon learning Jimin and Jungkook are about to head to Japan.

The MAMA Awards are being held at the Tokyo Dome, Tuesday, Nov. 28. They are leaving today/tomorrow. Plenty of time to relax, have a little down time and vacation, shoot some content, and then accept their awards Tuesday night.

We already know a "travel with Jimin and Jungkook" is coming soon. Should we anticipate a revisit to GCF Tokyo, or maybe something else similar? I love those two so much, they're always on my mind. They've been so sneaky and careful only because they know this is something special for us. Maybe it will come to us following the Disney series. We don't know what content they've got in the can, ready to follow.

Then we will have a few more months before Jin returns next summer.

Jimin and Jungkook. In recent months, I've gotten really good at filtering out the noise. I've sat here with calm understanding about Jimin and Jungkook, seeing them STILL the same with each other in every bit of new content they've shared. I only need my own two eyes and ears to detect that strong bond. They have the thing that is precious between two people. Grand gestures are not necessary and not their style.

They love their fans... that would be us: ARMY... they love us. They want to give us what we want. They live for that. So Jimin brought back his blonde hair, showed us his moons running down his back. And Jungkook stepped out of the shower naked. They KNOW what we want and want to give it to us as best they can! They know we love them and want to show off their chemistry.

Not gonna lie, this past year flew by for me. It was month after month of anticipation. And now here we are at the end of the year.

All the arguing and fighting and ugliness that some engage in is just noise. Our mens are gonna be the good and honest beings they are no matter what anyone says. Listen to them.

We expect them all back mid-year 2025. We expect a wonderful new most beautiful moment in life. We expect the best is yet to come. We expect something amazing and we won't be disappointed. Trust them.

Their plan is already in motion and has been. We wait™️.

#bts military service #we can do this #FIGHTING!#apobangpo #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #namjoon #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #bts chapter 2 #we wait #a year and a half passed fast since Festa 2022 #the next year and a half will pass fast too

119 notes · View notes

libraryofantiquitea · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡.

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x civilian female reader

summary: jake visits you at the gallery where you work after he's done training for the day. it becomes very apparent that you've both caught feelings.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! oh look, it's smut again! but this time there is [drumroll] some plot! unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), jake being turned on by his own callsign.

word count: 5.1k

author's notes: no beta, we die like goose. mainly because i didn't want to subject anyone to how long this part is!

i hadn't intended for this to become a series, but this is the third part in august slipped away.

previous: pt. i | tell me my name pt. ii | tokyo summer

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

There was a small art gallery just outside of Miramar; if you wanted to wander around for hours you’d need to make your way into the city proper to go to the San Diego Museum of Art, but if you just wanted to browse some more local art and perhaps purchase a painting or piece of artwork, Evergreen Brush was there for all of your artsy needs.

And that was where you worked as a curator, helping select the pieces and artists that you featured, and turning on your charm to sell artwork to sailors and aviators who might not know the first thing about artwork but wanted a little piece of San Diego to bring home with them.

Jake had texted you early in the morning, he was training pretty much all day but would come and pick you up after you closed the gallery and take you out. For what, he didn’t say, but you didn’t really give a damn where you went, you just wanted to spend time with him.

You had just flipped the sign on the door over to CLOSED for the evening as the familiar sound of fighter jets passed overhead, and you idly wondered if Jake was in one of them.

Fidgeting with some of the everyday rings you wore on your fingers, you wandered further into the gallery to do your “end of day” tasks. It had been a few weeks since you’d met Jake at The Hard Deck, a few weeks since you’d begun this situationship with him. You had promised yourself a very long time ago that you’d never get involved with another military man, but then had realized that if you were going to live in Fightertown that you really didn’t have much of a choice if you wanted to date ever again.

Jake was the type you should’ve run away from, but you had been powerless then to say no to his invitation out for a drink. He was definitely the type you’d normally go out with once, bring back to your home for the night, and that would be that. But there was something incredibly disarming about him that you hadn’t anticipated, a wall that he knocked down everytime you were in his presence.

You got the feeling that wasn’t something that he did often, and wondered what made you so special.

That first night, Jake had told you that he didn’t know how long he would be around. He couldn’t tell you much about what he was doing, it was very hush hush, but you got the impression that the mission was perilous enough that he might not return. And even if he did, this wasn’t where he would be posted long term. Whenever he left that would be it.

You’d had relationships, flings, with expiration dates before, but this was different. With the unknown “best before” date looming over your head, you tried your hardest not to catch feelings. It was fucking impossible with the likes of Jake Seresin.

Sighing, setting some invoices down on the counter, you raised your head and looked across the room to a series of abstract paintings, hoping they would put your mind at ease, quell the noise that would just not shut up.

There was no future with Jake, so it was best to just have a good time while you had him.

Convincing yourself of that was easier said than done.

In the employee lounge, the owner kept all kinds of liquor. Wine, whiskey, beer, anything a customer making a big purchase, an artist making a big sale, or a stressed out curator might crave. You made your way back there and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, knowing that it was Jake’s favourite. You didn’t know if he’d want to stick around, or what manner of plans he had for you both when he inevitably arrived, but there was no way you were going to have a drink and not offer him some.

You were just wrapping up recording sales for the day when there was a knock on the door. Glass of whiskey lifted halfway to your lips, you looked over to see Jake at the front door, hands in his pockets, smiling broadly when you made eye contact.

You giggled, feeling like a teenager being picked up for a school dance.

Somehow you managed to keep yourself from running to the door, though you moved as quickly as your feet and self respect could take you. From the other side of the door, Jake held your gaze as you unlocked it, before swinging it open and allowing him access.

“Hey darlin’,” he said brightly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close for a kiss.

“Hey,” you murmured, returning his kiss and draping your arms over his shoulder. “Gimmie a sec and I’ll lock the door.”

You mournfully pulled yourself from Jake’s embrace and moved to lock the door, while he stepped further into the gallery. “I never knew this place existed until you told me about it,” he said, looking around at some of the paintings.

“I don’t think it’s in the pamphlets they give you when you arrive at TOPGUN about sights to see while you’re here,” you teased, locking up and turning around. “I found a bottle of whiskey in the break room. Would you like some?”

“Baby girl,” Jake said, tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows as he turned to look at you. “C’mon.”

You grinned so brightly that your face hurt, and you walked over to the counter to pour a glass for Jake and another one for yourself.

“Very different work environment from mine,” Jake teased, taking a glass and then clinking it against yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated, watching him for a moment before taking a sip from your glass.

You couldn’t stop watching him; the way his Adam's apple bobbed as the alcohol slid down his throat, the way his green eyes practically twinkled in the low light, the closeness of him when he truly did not have to be that close at all.

It had been a few days since you’d seen him, and all you could think about was the last time you had seen him. Your face felt warm, and whether it was from Jake’s presence or the liquor you would never truly know.

“I just need to finish some paperwork, and then I’m all yours for the night,” you said, shuffling some papers and clearing your throat. More for your own benefit than Jake’s. “Feel free to have a browse.”

Jake smiled at you, before slowly pacing over to the wall of paintings. “I think I will, darlin’.”

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look down to finish what you had been working on, even if your eyes wanted to follow Jake through the gallery, watch the way his hand clutched at the glass of whiskey, the broad span of his shoulders, his perfect ass.

You told yourself the sooner you got done with paperwork, the sooner your hands could busy themselves with something else.

It was just as you were finishing up that you heard Jake say, “Could you tell me more about this one?”

Smiling, you moved from behind the counter, grabbing your drink along the way and sauntering over to where Jake was standing. When you realized exactly which painting he was talking about, something in your stomach began to flutter.

It was one of yours.

“Well,” you began, as you stood next to Jake, “this is a contemporary figurative painting. The artist specializes in the genres of portraiture and landscape. But, with this painting she has found a way to … sort of combine the two.” You looked out the corner of your eye to observe Jake, to find that he was hanging on your every word, and seemed genuinely interested. “The landscape in question is the artist’s own body.”

“Hmm,” Jake hummed, before looking closely. “She’s laying down, right? The curves of her body look like rolling hills.”

“That was precisely her intent,” you continued, looking over at Jake. “She isn’t always her body’s biggest fan, and society as a whole still has a problem with bodies that don’t fit the typical beauty standard. So, she is subverting their judgemental gaze by focusing on just a small part of her body, at an angle that most people would not see her in.”

Jake inhaled sharply, as if processing, and you briefly wondered if you’d made yourself too vulnerable, put too much on the table. Of course you and Jake had enjoyed some deeper discussions since meeting, and you’d talked about your art with him, but this was different than all of that. This was opening up in a way that you didn’t with even people you’d known for quite a long time. He’d be right to be put off by it.

“I think it’s stunning,” Jake said quietly, before polishing off what remained of his whiskey and then letting his arm hang loosely at his side, holding the glass by the rim. “And I’ve seen this body from this angle. It’s one of the most gorgeous and magnetic things I’ve ever seen.”

“Jake,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. You were alternately touched and thought that he was putting on quite the show.

“What?” he asked, turning his attention from the painting to look over at you, eyebrow raised quizzically.

“You don’t have to flatter me so much,” you said, reaching for the empty glass and offering him a smile. “You already have me.”

“Darlin’,” Jake began, his voice dropping into that low register that drove you wild, “I’m not … saying that to try and butter you up. This is gorgeous.” He gestured to the painting. “I don’t know much about art, but I think I know what I like.” He paused, simply looking into your eyes for a moment. “I want to buy it.”

“Jake,” you began, biting at your bottom lip and shaking your head slightly. “C’mon. You don’t really want to buy a painting of my back curving into my ass. There are so many better paintings here. If you want some art I’d be happy to -”

“I’m not playing at something,” Jake insisted, brow furrowing as you turned toward the breakroom. He reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey. I like you. We wouldn’t be doing … this, if I didn’t. I like your art. I want to buy some.”

You’d whirled around, facing him, and swallowed hard. God, he was going to make you talk about all of this, wasn’t he?

“I can make you some art. Some better art. You don’t want that one,” you insisted. “Besides, it costs far too much money.”

“So give me a discount then,” Jake said, smiling at you. You set the empty glasses down on a nearby shelf. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me to have this?”

“Do you really want a painting of a part of my naked body?” you asked incredulously, raising your eyebrows. “I have so much better work than that. Something that will actually look nice hanging in your home. Something that people won’t ask you questions about.”

“Yes, I want a painting of a part of your naked body,” Jake insisted, reaching for your hand. “I really like your naked body. I really like you. Besides it would be nice to have something -”

“Don’t.”

“- to remember you.”

Even though you had desperately wanted to have this conversation, even though your heart threatened to beat out of the space behind your rib cage every time you thought of him, the last thing that you wanted to talk about was the after. Aside from a couple of slip ups, you’d generally done pretty well about ignoring the fact that this was all going to end.

Somehow, Jake acknowledging it made the whole thing real, and worse, stating that he wanted to remember you felt like a dagger to your heart.

“We agreed not to talk about it,” you said simply, trying to turn away from him, but he was still holding on tightly to your wrist.

Jake pulled you toward him, against his chest, and held you close. “I know,” he said, a kindness in his voice as he relinquished his hold on your wrist to brush your hair away from his face. “I know we did. But, as we’ve established, I like you, want to remember you after I leave. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Because we agreed that when this was over, whenever that might be, that we wouldn’t,” you said sternly, trying desperately to act like your heart wasn’t cracking open like a ship against the rocks. But in a good way. You didn’t want to hold back what you felt, but you did it because of what you’d both agreed to. “And now you’re trying to change the rules. That’s not fair.”

Jake pursed his lips together. “You’re right, it’s not.” You puffed your chest out, having felt like you’d won a little victory. “But I never said I was fair.” He held you a little closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “I like you. A lot. More than I was anticipating. I don’t want to act like you don’t mean anything to me. You do. I’m not going to forget you when this is over. How could I?”

“I don’t want to talk about the expiration date,” you murmured, a little breathless. Jake was leaning in closer to you, his nose bumping against yours. “We have right now. We’ll worry about later when we get there.”

It was easy enough to say. You had been worrying about later since yours and Jake’s first date, when he’d left your home and headed back to the base, while you had sat on the floor, his come dripping down your thighs.

You wouldn’t have changed what the two of you had for anything in the world. Even if it would inevitably be painful in a matter of weeks.

“Right now,” Jake murmured in agreement. God, he was so close. You tried to close the space between you and he pulled back a little, smirking at you with a flash of perfect, white teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Fuck, you hated him in that moment. “I kind of want to bend you over something and fuck you.”

“Jake.”

“Dress hiked up over your hips,” he continued, his hands moving down along your sides before settling on your aforementioned hips.

“Jake,” you repeated, wrapping an arm around his neck and trying to haul him closer. He still wouldn’t kiss you, and you decided that you were done playing fair. With your free hand you reached down between Jake’s legs, and grabbed his stiffening cock through his pants.

“Fuck,” he growled, hips canting forward toward your touch.

“Hike my dress up over my hips then,” you breathed, squeezing him gently through his jeans, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Raw me.”

He said nothing, and instead gave you that kiss that you had so been craving. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle, and there was the very real possibility that your teeth knocking together would result in a trip to the dentist for one of you. But you didn’t care. It was so passionate, so incredibly raw, and you lived for the intensity that he put into every kiss that he bestowed upon your waiting and eager lips.

You found yourself crowded against a wall, between two contemporary impressionist paintings, and visions of your first time together flooded back in your mind. Not one to reminisce while in the process of being ravished, you turned your attention back to what was happening in the then and now, Jake’s teeth scraping along the column of your throat. You tangled a hand in his hair, loving the feeling of the soft tendrils wrapping around your fingers, where his hair was a little longer.

During a moment of respite, where you both needed to come up for air, you held Jake’s gaze as you hiked your dress up slowly, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and shoving them down your legs. Jake didn’t tear his eyes away from yours, but you could tell from the shift in his breathing that he wanted to. Your underwear off, you relinquished your hold on the hem of your dress and reached forward, palming Jake’s hardening cock through his jeans.

“Do you want me, love?” you rasped, and only regretted calling him love a little bit. It was a term of endearment that you used with many people, but it seemed like such a loaded word with him.

“Yes,” he gasped, still rapt as he looked into your eyes, nodding his head slowly as you began to undo his belt.

“Do you want to split my pussy open on your thick cock?” you purred, pulling the belt from its loops and tossing it onto the floor.

Jake leaned forward slightly, bracing one hand against the wall, the other against your throat. You gasped, tipping your head back slightly as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure. “Yes,” he growled, that southern drawl making your cunt pulse around nothing, his thumb smoothing over the delicate skin along the column of your throat.

Your hands trembling, you shoved the waistband of his shorts down just enough to free him. Your hand circled around his length, stroking him slowly, and you marvelled at how wet he was already, how eager he was. Whenever you were together you never doubted how much he wanted you. It was always quite apparent.

The angle was all wrong - he had several inches on you height-wise. Jake dipped his head down, claiming your mouth in one final brutal kiss, before he reluctantly pulled himself away. You whimpered, but didn’t have long to look at him questioningly, or look at him at all. He grabbed you roughly and turned you around, slamming your front against the wall. Your hands automatically went out to brace yourself, and you let out a satisfied groan.

“Not too rough?” he asked you.

“No,” you replied breathlessly. “Fuckin’ perfect …”

The only downside was that you couldn’t see him, and you loved looking at him, his face, watching as every emotion he felt, everything he thought passed over his features. At least with you. You looked back over your shoulder to find him stroking himself, and you let out a low moan, wriggling against the wall in anticipation. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he looked up and regarded you for a moment before reaching for the hem of your dress and pushing it up over your hips, just as he said that he wanted to.

“God, look at you,” Jake rumbled.

You let out a soft noise that died on your lips when he drew his hand back and cracked it hard against your exposed ass. “Oh!” you cried, forehead dropping against the wall. “Holy shit …”

“Okay?” he asked with some trepidation.

You appreciated him asking, but it took you a few moments to find the words. “Yes,” you finally replied. “I’ll - you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Those had apparently been the magic words, because you heard him groan, heard the slick sound of his hand moving over his cock before he smacked your ass hard again. He hit you with such force that you felt your entire body jostle from it, could feel the ache that lingered between your legs permeating through your entire core. You pushed away from the wall, pushed back against him, cock moving between your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, hips jerking forward, his hands settling on your hips. “Baby girl -”

“Jake, please,” you whined, wriggling against him. “Don’t - don’t make me wait.”

That was apparently the last thing that he wanted to do. One of his hands relinquished its hold on you, reaching between them to grab at the base of his cock. He shifted it so that it was nestled between your thighs, letting out a shuddering breath as it dragged against your clit, your lips.

“Fuck me,” you gasped desperately, reaching behind yourself and curling an arm around his neck, drawing them closer. His mouth immediately sought out your throat, and he nudged the collar of your jean jacket to the side with his fingers. “Hangman, give me your cock.”

You’d never called him by his callsign before, and he let out the most pathetic, devastatingly sexy sound you’d ever heard.

He didn’t make you wait any longer, pressing his fingers along his length and guiding it into your wet and waiting cunt. You both gasped, relieved, and seemingly melted against one another as he began to press inside. Jake’s hands sought your breasts, squeezing them gently through the fabric of your dress, your bra, a low moan echoing off the walls of the art gallery as he sunk deeper inside of you.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he moaned as you pressed back against him. “Baby girl … oh my god.”

You, in that moment, felt so incredibly powerful. You felt used, like a plaything for little more than his pleasure. But the way that he filled you, worshipped your body with every touch, every kiss, every shift of his hips let you know the truth - you were cherished, you were ultimately the one in control. You could bend him to your every whim, and he would go willingly.

You whined and gasped as he filled you, and when his hips met your ass and he couldn’t move any deeper inside of you, you made a small, frustrated sound. You would’ve gladly taken more of him if there were more to take - and he certainly wasn’t lacking.

Swaying your hips, you tipped your head back against his shoulder, your own hands settling over his, encouraging him to grab your breasts harder. “Hangman,” you murmured breathlessly. “Fuck me. Split me open, love.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he moaned, peppering your face and throat with desperate, messy kisses.

“Why would I do that?” you asked with a breathless smile, turning your head slightly so that you could get one of those kisses on your lips.

After taking a moment to get accustomed to the feeling of being inside you, of finding the position that made you cry out the most, Jake began to move. Slowly at first, but then in earnest, his hands coming to settle on your hips once more. He guided you along him as he moved, his hips snapping forward and meeting your ass again and again, the deliciously improper smacking sound filling the gallery.

Christ, how you wanted to see him.

“Jake,” you whimpered as he fucked you with abandon. “Love, I can’t - let me - I want to see you.”

He seemed only too happy to oblige, and though he reluctantly pulled out of you (you both let out mournful sounds), he quickly rectified it by manhandling you until you were facing him. Your eyes wide and startled, you barely had a moment to react, to adjust, before he was swooping in and kissing you, pushing you back against the wall. You lifted a leg, hooking it over his hip, and he groaned something against your mouth about you being so flexible, and you smiled. You ground your hips against him, and he bucked against you, growling as his tongue delved into your mouth.

“Put it - put it back in,” you whimpered, arching against him, draping your arms over his shoulders. The angle was still all wrong, and for the first time in a very long while you hated how short you were compared to him. “Jake,” you whined, frustrated, head thumping back against the wall.

You had no idea what had gotten into you that night, but you felt all manner of things all at once. You could scarcely remember a time when you had wanted anyone but Jake, despite the fact that he’d only come into your life a few weeks previous. Your heart ached from how strongly that you felt for him, and from the inevitable end of your relationship. You were so overjoyed, while simultaneously being absolutely gutted.

“Sweetheart,” Jake murmured, pressing his mouth along the curve of your jaw. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

One of his hands moved under the thigh of the leg you had up over his hip, while the other traced idle patterns on your other leg. You whimpered quietly, looking into his green eyes as he searched your face for a moment. You didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was you wanted to give it to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, as if he’d never said it to you before. He had, that night of your first date, but your heart felt full from hearing it again.

“So are you,” you responded in kind, and Jake smiled and bit at his lip.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he murmured. “A little tighter than you already are.” You did as instructed, looking at him quizzically. “Hold on.”

You didn’t have the time to ask him what he was doing. He hooked his arm under the back of your knee against his hip, and then crouched down, doing the same with the other leg, hoisting you up off the floor. You let out a startled noise and held onto him tighter, your hand fisted the collar of his shirt in your hand.

“Jake,” you gasped.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing his face against your throat for a moment.

Jake pushed you back up against the wall, using that as leverage to hoist you a little higher. You untangled one of your arms from being wrapped around him and reached down between the two of you, grabbing his cock and guiding the tip inside of yourself. Gravity took care of the rest.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, eyebrows furrowing as you looked down to watch Jake’s cock slipping inside. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

At that point, Jake seemed to be beyond even four letter, single syllable words, and simply pressed his mouth against your throat, alternating between breathing harshly and moaning, delicious sounds coming from that you hadn’t been aware he was capable of making.

You wriggled, attempting to move yourself up and down along Jake’s cock, using his shoulders as leverage. You were able to move slightly, but mostly it was left up to gravity, and Jake’s arms lifting you. He was so strong, but you were sure that he couldn’t keep that up for long. Thankfully, the angle was fucking perfect and he wouldn’t have to.

“Jake,” you gasped, tangling one hand in his hair and tugging. He moved shallowly, the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit. You wouldn’t last. “Jake!”

He gasped your name in turn, tongue darting out to taste your skin, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. “I’m - I’m coming. Come with me. Sweetheart, please -”

You didn’t need to be asked twice, his pleas and the way he stretched you open, hit all of the sweetest spots inside you ensuring that you came tumbling along with him. Jake was inelegant as he came - grunting and gasping and twitching against you, and it only spurred your own orgasm on further, your entire body trembling with the force of it. It rocked you to your core so hard that when you closed your eyes for a moment you saw the brightest of stars.

Gingerly, you attempted to lower your legs, but your feet still didn’t touch the floor. You could feel his entire body quaking against you, and he crouched slightly to pull his cock out of you, ease you onto the floor, still breathing hard, still making soft sounds against your skin. He seemed reluctant to pull away from the warmth of your throat.

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back against the wall, your fingers gently scratching at his scalp. “Jake …”

You had said little else for several minutes. They seemed to be the best two words, at least for the moment. They were good words. They were undoubtedly your favourites.

Jake leaned his forehead against yours, and you traded ragged breaths as you attempted to regain any semblance of composure. You didn’t know how the rest of the evening was likely to shake out, but you hoped that it didn’t include being upright for any length of time, as you felt you were barely capable then of standing without assistance.

He pulled away from you, and you were about to tighten your grip on his hair, not wanting him to go anywhere, but he began to slowly sink to his knees. There was a question that died on your lips as he lifted the hem of your dress, which you took a hold of in your hands and hiked up over your thighs as you watched him. Hands settling on your thighs, Jake leaned in and licked the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center. You cried out, relinquishing your hold on your dress with at least one hand, which you tangled into his soft, mused hair once more.

Without a word, he tilted his head to the side and began to lick into you and it was through a haze that you realized that he was licking his own come out of you.

You may have come again from the sheer knowledge of that alone.

“Oh,” you gasped, watching him intently. “Oh god. Fuckin’ ... Jake.”

He moaned against you like it was the sweetest thing that he’d ever tasted, his own release mixed with yours. And you didn't doubt for a moment that he thought just that. Jake ate your pussy like it was a goddamn honour.

“You … holy fuck,” you purred, fingers carding gently through his hair.

You spread your legs a little wider, Jake’s tongue probing your cunt, as if he didn’t want to lose a single drop. He was positively filthy, and looked so incredibly debauched on his knees in front of you, neck craned, brow furrowed in concentration. He opened his eyes to look up at you, and you shuddered under the heat and intensity of his gaze. When Jake deemed you sufficiently clean, he drew back, licking at his lips and smoothing a hand over his face, his eyes still locked with yours.

“I …” You found that you couldn’t speak, and instead let go of your dress, letting it tumble over your thighs. Your now free hand joined the other in Jake’s hair, the both of them sweeping down over his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Wow.”

Jake chuckled, turning his head and pressing a kiss to one of your palms. “Yes, darlin’. Wow.”

/end.

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #reader x jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #reader insert #writing #fic #antiquitea.fic #august slipped away

560 notes · View notes

lightsoutletsgo · 1 month

Note

mimi congrats on 500 <3, sending this for your event!!! (1) ship pretty pls :3 i listen to everything? mostly fall out boy, joji and the cure <3 i am a graphic designer. kinda hate dessert but i am addicted to energy drinks HEH. i love traveling to big cities! so very anti beach ❌. i’m lowkey introverted but very very extroverted online 😭 HEDJSIFKS dream date???? museums!!! very very into staying in but not against to going out? i’m very passionate about the things i like? but kinda sensitive to every other thing HEHEHE tysm! congrats again!

awi!! omg omg omg hi sweets!! tysm for sending this in - I'm so excited to do it for youuuu! (I got your other request about the nsfw bit dw) happy reading! mimi 🤍

MAX VERSTAPPEN ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you schat or liefje - has an obsession with your legs. loves having them in his lap when you're cuddling or wrapped around his waist - his love language is physical touch! he's a man of few words so it's small touches like a hand on your back or a quick kiss to your hand that let you know he's there and how he feels - max will do anything for you and he cannot help but spoil you. you barely have to mention something once before he's driving to the store or ordering it online for you. nothing is too big or too small for him to get for you.

max's music taste is... limited? so anytime you're driving anywhere, he's more than happy for you to have aux! he loves discovering new artists through you and with you and anytime you make him a playlist he always listens to it pre-race. of course he has to let everyone know that his amazing love made it for him. to which they usually reply "we know max, we heard the first time." (really they think it's sweet that he's so dopey for you)

he literally supplies you with all the redbull you could ever want! sometimes he 'jokes' that you're only with him for that reason but a quick kiss to his cheek has him blushing and flustered and the thought has left his head. speaking of blushing and flustered, max loves when you play dangerous games with him. sliding your hand higher and higher up his thigh at dinner before sneaking off to the bathroom with him.

max is obsessed with watching you come apart underneath him and he puts as much determination and passion into making you cum for him as he does into his driving. he loves how fucked out you look and he can't get enough of gently holding your throat and telling you to open before spitting, relishing in the way he feels you swallow under his hand. he also can't get enough of watching you in the mirror. bending you over the sink, putting you on your hands and knees on the bed, bending you over against the hallway wall; anywhere there's a mirror, max is sliding into you from behind and whispering filth into your ear as his hips roll into yours.

he loves jetting off to city breaks for the weekend with you when he can; new york, paris, seoul, budapest, prague, tokyo, florence, krakow, chicago, seville, nice; your passport is full of stamps and stickers from your trips with him. you've started a scrapbook together with a postcard and a polaroid of the two of you in every city you've been to!

he loves taking you to various art galleries and museums in the countries and cities you visit and he's become surprisingly good at being an instagram bf and taking aesthetic pictures of you in galleries and exhibits. max loves watching you as you look around, the way your face scrunches when you're focusing, the way your lips move as you read the placards, the way you excitedly tell him all you know or you've read about the exhibit and the way you're moved by the things you see. cosy date nights are a must with him whenever he's home and most nights (whether wild nights out or dinner dates at home) end with you cuddled into his side on the couch and the cats on his lap. it's his ideal evening and he won't tell you yet but he plans on hopefully making it a permanent fixture in his life soon.

max loves your passion for life and your passion and drive for the things you love, even if he doesn't love them in the same way or understand them. he learns so many new things through you and with you. he loves the way that you light up his life and make him feel warm. max swears he could never win another race for his whole career and he'd still get that world champion feeling just by looking into your eyes.

"schat, what do you think about going to paris next weekend?" max asks. you giggle and look at him leaning against the bedroom door frame as you lie on the bed, with jimmy curled up on top of your feet and sassy cuddled into your side, "max!" you point at the still half-unpacked suitcases at the foot of the bed, "we just got back from prague!" he shrugs, seemingly un-phased by your argument, "your point is?" "we can't go away again! what about the cats?"

max sighs and crosses the room to plop down onto the bed next to you, sassy glaring at him as he accidentally shifts her from her cosy spot at your side, you stroke her back absentmindedly as she takes up a new spot on your stomach, "we can ask lando to cat-sit!" you roll your eyes with a smile, max is grinning like a child, "you've already booked the tickets haven't you?" "nooooo..." "max." "maybe..." "baby!" he pouts at you and you can't help the way you laugh, leaning to kiss his cheek, "you're trouble, you know that?" he gently pushes sassy and jimmy out of the way and they almost huff at him before stalking out of the room as he rolls on top of you, pressing a dangerous kiss to your neck, "you love that I'm trouble liefje..."

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡#mimi.writes #mimi.thirsts #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #awi #omg you need to pick an emojiiiiI!!

53 notes · View notes

heartbreakgrill · 5 months

Text

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 2- "You're in my head..."

The beginning two weeks on tour were spent in the city of London, which I easily grewattached to. For the first handful of days, I fell into a comfortable routine of simplicity- I’d wake with Sam, have breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the band (avoid Oliver); set my sights on a few attractions; spend time in Hyde Park, catching up on my reading list; then return to the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner with Sam and the band. Most often, Oliver wasn’t there for those evening meals, said to be off somewhere, writing music, or having a smoke (thank God). I didn’t see him much outside of those breakfasts considering I was always off doing something and he had rehearsals. And I honestly liked it that way.

During the first two weeks in London, I tried to be nice to Oliver. I’d greet him every day at breakfast with a kind smile, a gentle, “Good morning, Oliver.” And he’d just ignore me. None of the others really considered it, or else I think they’d have said something to him. It was subtle enough that I could only ruminate over it in silence.

But, boy, did I notice the shitty behavior he exhibited towards me, that when I’d laugh too loudly at Max’s jokes or start up a conversation- breathe, basically- Oliver’s shoulders would tense. He’d sigh, just soft enough that I could hear it across the table. And, he’d become distant from the group, eyes glazed over, silent. If someone- other than me- said something to him, he’d respond. But, God forbid he say anything on his own accord.

From what I gathered, he had gotten to know me and, I guess, he just didn’t like me. Why he had covered up the time we had spent together on the roof, I did not know. Why he felt the need to completely ignore me- I really just didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I wanted to. I was having the time of my life, catching matinees on the West End, spending time in the Natural History Museum, riding the London Eye. I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse or sparring enemies during this time in my life.

Usually, at least, back home, I was always too nervous to go out by myself, afraid I’d see family friends or exes I was trying to avoid. Here, I didn’t have to worry about that. I was a whole new person- a whole new woman. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely sometimes, shopping or discovering new coffee shops all by myself. But, it was healing, too. I was learning to enjoy my own company.

At the beginning of the second week, however, I had run out of things to do. Due to my newfound luck, rehearsals had ended for the band Saturday, and they had the week off- save for Friday, when they’d perform, and the weekend, when we’d be heading up to Newcastle for the next show. But for now, Sam had an open schedule.

We toured the city together for a few days, spending more time together in those short hours than we had in nearly five years. We had a pretty close relationship, but due to our conflicting schedules and busy lives, it was rare that we found space to be with each other like this. It was cathartic- catching late lunches together, touring museums, art galleries, tourist attractions. Mom would’ve really loved to be there with us, in such a dream city, and I know we both held that thought close to our hearts for the entire week.

I didn’t attend their concert that weekend, involved with my own plans. I wanted to come see them perform at some point, but I almost wanted to spite Oliver by not going, too. It was, after all, his band, his music. So, instead, I planned on going to a local dive bar that was holding an open mic night. In such a vast, diverse city, I was sure to find fun there.

That morning, though, at breakfast, I almost changed my plans.

I sat down beside Sam, a plate of toast and eggs in my hands. Max looked up from his phone, where he had been texting someone, and grinned at me, “Morning, lovely. Sleep okay?’’

I nodded appreciatively, “I’ve gotten used to the time change already.”

“Just wait,” Sam stabbed at his stack of pancakes. “Italy is in a week. It’ll fuck you up again.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. I’ve gotten to do so much these past two weeks. It’s insane.”

Cy took a sip of his coffee before adding in, “Oh, to see London through the eyes of a tourist. I’m sure it’s nothing short of magical.”

“Gonna have a hard time leaving, that’s for sure,” I bit off a piece of toast as I replied.

Oliver and Adam joined us now, Adam rattling off some guitar notes to the singer. Their conversation was just background noise to ours, as Sam then spoke to me, brushing his hands free of crumbs from his toast, “Listen, I have your stage pass in my bag. You have to wear it to get into the venue or go backstage, okay? Don’t lose it. I won’t be able to check my phone much today, so I can’t help you out if you do.”

I looked up from my plate, a guilty frown settling into my face, “Oh. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna go tonight.”

Everyone turned their attention to me fully, even Oliver, though he seemed to look past my head, avoiding my eyes. Their expressions weren’t necessarily confused, but wondorous, curiously surprised by my declaration.

“You’re not coming?” Max asked, his tone a bit hurt.

I shrugged slowly, “I’m so sorry. I had plans to go out. But, I can- I can always change them-?”

“No, don’t do that,” Cyrus waved me off, defending my choice, “you’re allowed to do your own thing. You’re not obligated to come see us.”

“I mean, I will…eventually. I just…there’s so much I wanna do, ya know?” I stuttered a bit, my face flushed from my guilt. I knew they weren’t mad, but I felt like I was letting them down.

Max pouted as he crossed his arms, “So, we’re just not as important, love? I see how it is. Here I thought we had something special.”

“I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll come to a show sometime. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedu-” I chuckled slightly through my words to make the point that I was being sarcastic. But, then, someone interrupted me.

Everyone glanced at Oliver as he stood, chair scraping against the ground. He was pulling a cigarette from an emptying pack, balancing it between his lips. Then, he walked, so quickly, yet so casually, away from our table, towards the exit.

“Even Ollie’s hurt,” Max pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Funny thing is, I don’t think Max was too far off with his observation. Why else had Oliver stormed off like a child, leaving a full plate of food where he had been sitting?

Our first travel day was hectic. We had to wake up, bright and early Saturday morning, in order to board the tour buses waiting outside of the hotel. I was a little nervous to spend the next two days inside of the vehicle, eating, sleeping, and basically living within its confines.

But then it came easy. I slept in late, finding my bunk to be a lot more comfortable than it looked. Cy had joined our bus for that first morning, he and Sam working on some drum rhythm for a new song, or something of the sort. On our bus, too, was Ronnie, Sam’s close friend- he insisted- the band’s tour manager, whom I was growing to love.

She was all tattoos, colored hair, and bad-ass energy. She swore like a sailor, said whatever came to mind, and treated the boys like stupid little teenagers. I loved it. I found myself giggling at everything she said, especially when the boys would be too loud at a gas station, and she’d scold them. Whenever Oliver would grace us with his presence on these outings, he’d glare at my laughter, as per usual.

Anyways, I think I was a difficult pill for Ronnie to swallow at first, being so feminine in comparison to her more masculine demeanor. But, we began to really bond that first afternoon on the bus.

While Cy and Sam occupied the back room, drum pads rattling beneath their sticks, Ronnie and I took up the couches towards the front of the bus. I had just gone out for a cup of tea, hoping it would wake me up and encourage me to read or something. Instead, I ended up playing countless rounds of Mario Kart with Ronnie. I was never really into video games, but playing with her was so fun, and we just couldn’t stop. She teased me for being such an amateur, for choosing Princess Peach when she played as Bowser.

But, then we got to talking- about my favorite Taylor Swift songs, ex-boyfriends, childhood trauma. She was wise beyond her years and a comforting, womanly presence to have.

“Sam told me a little bit, but I never got the full picture. What are you going to school for?”

I glanced over at her, nearly crashing my kart because of the sharp corner I had to cut. “Oh, yeah, um…counseling. To get my LPC, so I can practice.”

“A woman in STEM,” she nodded slowly, a slight smile on her face. Her eyes were focused on the tv screen, but they held a glint of humor. “Hey, I respect it. That’s a difficult job. You like it so far?”

“I liked undergrad,” I shrugged. “I’m kind of scared about my master’s, though.”

She elbowed me softly, in an attempt to offer up some semblance of encouragement, “Don’t be. You’re not dumb. You’ll figure it out.” She was the type of person to not really compliment others, so it was sweet that she was trying for me, someone she barely even knew.

“Thank you,” I grinned over at her as our match ended.

She met my eye, fought back the wide smile itching at her face, and rolled her eyes, “Cmon, peaches. I wanna kick your ass on rainbow road.”

We continued on bantering, chatting about whatever came to mind. I knew then that she’d be a rock to turn to this summer, this suspicion exemplified by the fact that she even said she’d listen to one of the songs I mentioned, though she was a metal-lover, through and through. I was becoming like an exception to everyone, a bright, soft spot of sunshine in the black-clothed masses of this touring crew. It was heartwarming to be so beloved, even if no one would say those words directly (besides Max, of course).

So, what if Oliver didn’t like me? All of his fucking friends did.

So, things were coming up Daisy. I was making friends- most notably, Max, Cyrus, and Ronnie. Sam was right- Cy was incredibly smart. We spent a lot of time on the bus that weekend- and the next, when we traveled further up England- discussing school, psychological theories, cognitive studies. He knew a lot about a lot and it was stimulating to get to have such intelligent conversations.

Max was a handful, of course. Again, Sam being right- Max loved to flirt with me. I think it got on my brother’s nerves, but I found it to be a fun little game. At breakfast, back in London, he’d greet me every morning with a pleasant grin, a compliment on my hairstyle for the day or my lip stick color.

Of course, it would be followed by, “Would look better on me.” To which, I would laugh hysterically and Sam would try to fling eggs at his boss.

When this particular flirtation had been spent, I glanced around the group, giggling, when my eyes landed on Oliver. He was actually looking up, and at one point, he met my eyes. My bright grin did not falter, not until his lingering stare turned into a roll in his eyes. He looked back down at his phone and I decided then and there that I would not spend another minute ruminating on him and his negative energy.

Adam and I got along, but we weren’t super compatible, which I didn’t mind. Not everyone always matched with one another. We shared pleasant greetings and didn’t mind sitting next to each other at breakfast. He seemed to just keep to himself most of the time, anyways. Not that he didn’t spend time with the group. He just- was quiet, reserved.

We’d finished up the tour dates scheduled in England during those first three weeks. It had felt like a year long journey but, in reality, they’d only performed about six concerts in that time. We still had two and a half months to go. I was elated. Time on the bus was relaxing, passing by quicker than I thought it would. Though Cy’s bunk was on the other bus, he spent most of his time with us, with Sam. Max would even bus hop, opting for group movie nights with us or games of poker. We sometimes roped Adam into it, but Oliver never budged. His band mates would call him lame, tease him for being such a n introvert, but gave up once he’d roll his eyes at them.

I wondered how they put up with his shitty attitude all the time. It must be frustrating, this annoyance only made worse by the fact that he was so fucking talented. I refused to listen to their music anymore than what Sam had already shown because I just didn’t want to give Oliver the satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare. I had to remind myself that a lot.

The next two stops were in Italy, where we’d be for just a week and a half. The evening before we boarded the plane that would take us there, however, we all decided to get out for a big dinner. It was the first time I’d really be hanging with the entire group, outside of our bus and hotel breakfasts. I wanted to look good, knowing they were used to seeing me in sweats, hoodies, jeans, so I spent a bit of time getting myself ready.

Sam barely dressed up, opting for jeans and a nicer jumper, black Vans a staple to all his outfits. I picked out one of the nicer dresses I’d packed, blush pink, with a square neckline, sheer long sleeves, and a length that cut off above my mid-thigh. I wore my black platform boots, gold jewelry, and did my hair up in this silk bow I had purchased back in London. This was the first time on this trip that I felt really good about how I looked. Oliver’s burning hatred for me only made me more insecure than I already was. Not tonight.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting me, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I opened the bathroom door, my boots noisy on the carpeted floor. A sweet smile came across his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stood to take me in. His head tilted to the side.

“What?” I rubbed my hands down the front of my dress, feeling overanalyzed by his gaze.

“I don’t tell you enough Daz, but you’re beautiful,” Sam nodded, just once. Usually, I’d make fun of him for being so cheesy, so affectionate. But, this summer was bonding us more.

Instead, I grinned at my brother, but still reached out to playfully punch his arm. “Thanks, Sam-Ham.”

“Hey, you’ve done pretty well at not using that so far. Think the guys forgot about that one time.” We headed for the door now, back on our bantering like usual.

I shrugged at his comment, countering with, “Maybe I should remind them of it, then.”

Sam held the door open for me, but, as I said those words, he tried to shove it close on my moving body. I yelped at the impact and then dug my heels into the carpet as I pushed back against his weight. He laughed, heartily, before giving up on shutting me in. Because I was pushing so hard, I toppled out into the hallway, breathless, nearly falling on my face. Sam caught my shoulders and pushed me back on my feet.

As I looked up, I saw Oliver, standing outside of his own room, a quiet smile on his face. He had been observing our antics, passively, with an amused glint in his eye. I grinned back at him, my stupid heart feeling hopeful for some semblance of a spark to catch between us. As if he realized it was my eyes he was looking into, he turned his head.

But, then, just as quickly as he peeled his gaze away, he put it back on me. On my boots, fiery brown eyes dragging themselves up my body. They lingered over the curve of my hips, the peaks of my breasts, my glossy lips and, then, my eyes. He seemed to smirk at me, flashed his eyes, then turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

Sam hadn’t noticed the longing gaze Oliver burned into me because Ronnie was approaching us from down the hall. She didn’t really go to breakfast or dinner with us because she was always on the move. But, luckily, she was able to make it out tonight. And, whenever Ronnie was around, Sam was more than distracted.

I was too focused on Oliver, myself, staring at his retreating back with a slack jaw. Goosebumps littered the skin exposed on my chest, my legs, a chemical reaction eliciting itself from his burning eyes. What the fuck was that? I knew, deep in my soul, that I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was literally just a stupid man, and I was dressed in little to no clothing. As long as a vagina had legs, men would fuck the most insufferable of women. That was just it- right?

I didn’t have time to focus on my own racing thoughts, however, because Ronnie was talking to me now, teasing me about my dress, which I knew, for her, was just a hidden compliment.

“Jesus, it’s like Princess Peach in real life,” she chuckled, eyeing me up.

I turned to the two of them, licking my lips as if to snap myself out of my lucid trance. “Huh? Oh…uh- insert funny Princess Peach line,” I shook my hands around, forcing a smile upon my face, as I tried to banter back.

“Something like, ‘save me, Mario!”’ Sam mocked the character in a high-pitched voice.

This finally distracted my brain enough. Ronnie and I shared a humorously surprised expression, eyed Sam, before bursting out into laughter.

“That was fucking terrible!” Ronnie exclaimed, smacking Sam in the bicep. “I loved it.”

We made our way to the elevator, still teasing Sam for his terrible impression. He tried to save himself by acting like Mario, but that was just another train wreck, in and of itself.

“I’m-a sorry! Please-a forgive me-a!” He lifted his arms in a strange manner as he made another horrid impression. Ronnie held a finger up to her lips, “No, no. Shhhhhh…no, just…no.” I giggled into my hand.

We were supposed to meet the others down in the lobby, where we would take a pair of taxis down the street to some five-star restaurant the boys had recommended. I was lucky to have saved up so much at my job back home, to be able to do stuff like this all summer. I don’t think I’d ever been to such a fancy place before. I was more than excited.

When we stepped off the elevator, we spotted our group by the front doors. Max was in a sweater, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to Adam, who was also dressed nicer than normal. He looked over the guitarist's shoulder as the elevator dinged and spotted me immediately. Max gawked at the sight. He interrupted his band mate’s conversation in order to whistle. I flushed red, eyes rolling, though I secretly appreciated all the attention I was garnering with this little outfit.

“Oh, my god,” Ronnie murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead as though he was stressing her out. She and Sam moved off, out of the way, as Max approached.

He brushed past Adam, looking me up and down. He reached out for my hands, taking my fingers in his large hold. He lifted my arms up, as if to get a better examination of me. “Love, you look fucking gorgeous!”

I shook my head, grinning at the compliments, and it ruffled my hair over my shoulders. It drew Max’s attention to my intricate hairstyle. He moved his hand to touch my neck, softly, and turned my head to admire the hairstyle.

“Wow, love, just; wow!” Max appreciated me some more, settling a blush across my cheeks.

Then, he pulled me to stand beside him, looping my hand through his arm, laying it around his bicep. “Come on, love; you’re my date for this evening. Yeah?”

“Sure,” I patted his bicep. “Whatever you say.”

Max groaned, head tilted back, eyes shut. “Don’t say that! That’s dangerous-“

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Sam called from his spot beside Ronnie, a finger pointed warningly at Max. I hung my head, giggles falling from my mouth. Ronnie looked amused at the confrontation.

Max raised his own hand in defense, “Okay, okay. I’ll even admit that one was a little…out there.” Sam nodded firmly with a disapproving smile. Max tilted his head down towards me, his expression more polite now, words close to my ear. “Sorry, love.”

I leaned into his arm, winking slightly, “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Oh! That’s my girl,” Max tapped my nose sweetly.

I was on top of the world. I looked good- even Oliver thought so- I felt good. I was in the most beautiful country, surrounded by people I was forming tightly-knit relationships with. Nothing could ruin my elated mood.

I didn’t even care that Ronnie, Sam, and Adam had piled into the one taxi, leaving Max, Oliver, Cy, and I to share the other. I didn’t care that I’d have to share such a small space with the most insufferable man in the world.

Cy chose to sit up front, cutting off Oliver, who had most definitely been headed in that direction. Cy didn’t notice, though. His action was sacrificial for everyone else, not intentionally manipulative towards his band mate. Oliver, however, seemed to take it to heart, frowning deeply at the rejection and fisting his hand into his hoodie pocket.

I watched all this occur as Max opened the door to the taxi, helping me inside the back seat. “You okay in the middle?” He asked, head dipped inside the vehicle.

I nodded, “No worries.” I only realized after I saw Oliver round the car that this meant I’d be sitting flush against him.

I didn’t care. Though my face flushed with anticipatory anxiety, I didn’t care. I didn’t care- was that his cologne in the air- nope. Don’t care.

Max piled in, softly shutting the door behind him, leg and shoulder pressed up against my own. I buckled myself in just as Oliver opened the door. I tried to offer a sweet smile, still choosing kindness over returning his awful behavior. He didn’t mirror any gesture in return. My smile faltered.

No. I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me. Tonight was going to be fun, whether he wanted it to be or not. If he chose to sulk in my presence, then that was his problem. I shook my shoulders about, basically shaking him off of me. Though, it would be my problem during the car ride. He slid into the seat next to me and I swear I could feel his negative energy fill up the car. Besides, he was tall, legs and arms long, shoulders wide. I know he was trying to shove himself up against the door, but he couldn’t just not touch me. His thigh was warm against mine, his shoulder tense. I leaned into Max to try to give him more space, but that was unfair to him.

The bassist shifted in return, looking down at me, apologetic for thinking he had taken up too much space, “Sorry, love.”

“S’okay,” I looked away from Oliver, focusing my attention on the road before us as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to sink into myself. But, I was still flush against either man.

I could smell Oliver’s cologne, too. It was sweet, musky. It overwhelmed my senses. Though I tried to process Max and Cy’s blossoming conversation, appeal myself to them and only them, all I could think about was Oliver. How he smelled. The curve of his thigh.

Oliver’s large hand on his knee, slender fingers curved over top of the limb. Oliver’s chest, in the corner of my eye, moving up and down slowly, in a controlled rhythm of breathing. Oliver’s scent, so strong to my senses, so…distracting. He smelled so damn good.

I shifted in my seat again. My thigh pressed up against his more. I squeezed my legs together to avoid his, but there wasn’t enough room. I glanced at him, an apologetic smile on my lips.

He looked down at me, lips pursed slightly. I held his eyes for a moment, trying to read his expression. Just as I went to turn my head away, his eyes dipped down, over the peaks of my breast again.

Okay, he was not helping the situation. The way he looked more over was just making him seem more attractive to my stupid brain.

I flushed, skin spotting with color from the red blush. I took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as I tried to control the heat in my body. I saw from the corner of my eye that Oliver was still staring at me. He shifted this time, tugging his hoodie down his belt. I furrowed my brows at the movement, flicking my eyes over his lap, where the hem of his jacket had now settled. Oliver coughed, large hand holding the edge of his hoodie down over where he had moved it to. I did a double-take, realizing after a moment what that meant.

He had a boner.

He had a boner because of me.

Oliver had a boner because of me.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t think straight. I clutched the edge of my dress, knuckles white from the pressure in them. My chest only fell faster, breathing short, goosebumps littering my flushed skin again. I could feel Oliver look over at me, over and over. He just couldn’t look away. He shifted countless more times, thigh pushing against mine. It sprouted a wildfire across my skin.

I didn’t want to play games, but he was making it impossible to be the neutral position in this narrative. One day, he hated me, rolling his eyes at my laughter. Then, the next, he’s checking me out, battling a boner in the seat beside me? So, maybe I should just choose a side. Maybe I should play back.

I spread my legs, only a centimeter due to the lack of space I had, pressing my thigh into his more. It was noticeable to him, and him only.

He felt the pressure, eyes dragging down my body to my leg. The hand he still had curved over his leg squeezed his knee cap, knuckles flushing white, like my own. I smirked to myself, though I knew he could see the expression on my face. He let out a breathless huff, as if he was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I continued pushing my leg into his, though he slowly began to cower into the corner of the car, knee turning towards the door. I felt victorious, confident in the way I had made his body react.

Though my hands still shook from the heat of the moment. The game paused during dinner. Oliver went back to ignoring me, eyes trained on the menu or his lap. I knew it was partially because he didn’t want to have a boner in front of our friends. Though, he conversed a bit more tonight, to Ronnie about tour dates, to his band mates about the setlist, to Sam about some stupid bit they were all involved in. I knew it was just because of the camaraderie between everyone.

Everyone had a really good time, myself included, though I was sweating. We were all laughing, sharing stories over numerous glasses of wine. Of course, my hand was a little heavier than the other’s when I’d poured myself some of the maroon colored liquid. I needed to drink in order to get through this painful plane of existence. This was not how I thought the night would go, but there was no going back now. I needed to make him uncomfortable, needed him to see me. He couldn’t ignore me any longer. Not now, not when I knew that I had him in such a taunting way. When dessert was brought out- slices of chocolate cake- I stepped back into the game. I was a little more brave now, encouraged by the wine. I was tipsy, sure, but I also knew exactly what I was doing.

Oliver was seated right across from me, accidental on either of our ends. But, lucky, nonetheless. I pushed my feet out underneath the table, taking up more space than I needed to. Eventually, the toes of my boots hit the tips of his black converse.

He had been eating his cake, eyes trained on the white cloth of the table. But, when I knocked our shoes together, his eyes flinched up, towards me. His brows furrowed. He dipped his head down and lifted the cloth up slightly to look at our shoes under the table. Oliver met my eyes again. He rolled his eyes and went back to his cake. I smirked to myself. He thought I was just being stupid, stretching my legs out. No- I was a smart girl. I knew what I was doing. This was all intentional. I hated him, but he thought I was hot. So, I could finally get back at him for all of his shitty behavior. Could use my good looks to my advantage.

I put my boot atop one of his converse. His foot wriggled beneath mine, in an attempt to knock it off. But, I pressed down, keeping it there. Oliver looked back up, annoyance evident in his face.

I took the opportunity to have a bit of my cake, slipping the fork between my lips slowly, tongue flicking out to swipe the bottom of it seductively. Oliver’s eyes widened as I drug the utensil from my lips. I twisted it around in my mouth, cleaning off every inch, lips pursed. He sat up in his seat.

I had his full attention now.

I scooped more cake onto my fork, though I didn’t bite into it this time. Instead, I licked the fork, dragging it down my tongue. Oliver’s eyes watched my mouth, his own tongue flicking out over his lips.

I swallowed, noticeably so. He shifted in his seat, hands in his laps now. I set my fork down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. I let myself grin at him, having successfully made his dick hard again. He was a stupid, easy boy. It didn’t matter who I was- so long as I was wearing skimpy clothes and being sexy- he was weak. Sure, he probably still couldn’t stand me- but his dick was hard.

Oliver’s jaw clenched. He tilted his chin up towards me, as if to say, “Okay. I see how it is.”

I flicked my brows at him, reaching out for my wine glass, and maintaining eye contact as I took a long swig. “Should we go out for drinks?” Max asked from his end of the table.

I glanced down at him, my wine glass empty now. Sam wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, searching everyone’s expressions. “Could be fun,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I could go for some beer,” Adam shrugged from his seat.

Ronnie nodded, too, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Cyrus raised a hand to motion to the waitress that we needed our checks. I reached around to the back of my chair as she approached, ready to grab my wallet. Though we had already laid out how the checks would be split, she never gave me mine.

I furrowed my brows as she passed over me, handing out bills to everyone else. But, then I saw Sam laying his card down on his bill and nodded to myself. When we left the restaurant, and began walking down the street to the closest bar, I caught up to him and Ronnie. I looped my arm through his, gaining his attention, “Thanks, Sam Ham.”

He looked confused by my gratitude, but didn’t have time to focus on that because he was too busy being offended by my choice of nickname. He moved to fuck with me, to tickle my waist or something, but I quickly ran from him. Max and Adam were walking a few feet ahead of us. Laughing loudly, I headed to them, running in front of Max. The wine I had drank was making me loud, silly. I appreciated the ability to relax, unwind. Be myself without any filters holding me back.

Max nearly tripped over me, but when he heard Sam calling out, trying to get to me, he quickly grabbed me by the waist. “Leave my girl alone, you monster!” Max shouted, tossing me over his shoulder and racing further down the street.

I clutched onto his arms, yelping at the hectic movement. We reached the bar before everyone else, Sam having given up on chasing us after he nearly tripped on the curb. I watched them all approach where we stood from over Max’s shoulder, breathless.

I patted his back and said, “Okay, thanks, but you can let me down now.”

“Mhm,” Max turned towards the group. “Appreciating the view, love.”

“Max,” Ronnie was even getting protective over me. She moved in front of us, an annoyed look on her face, “You’re disgusting.”

Max huffed, and replied, “Okay, okay, here,” before settling me back on my feet. He grinned down at me, booped my nose again before heading into the bar with Adam, Ronnie, and Sam.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cy and Oliver, having been trailing behind our group. Cy smiled kindly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. I noticed Oliver was looking up at the sky. I trailed my eyes down over his body, towards his crotch curiously. His black skinny jeans looked just a liiiiittle bit tight, again.

I smirked to myself. “Cmon, Cy,” I pushed Oliver gently out of the way in order to grab onto his friend’s arm. We walked into the bar, leaving Oliver in the dust. I made sure to swing my hips just so for his gaze, which I was positive was glued to my ass.

The game was back on. And he would lose.

Max handed me yet another drink, a sweet, drunken smile on his face. “Here you are, lovey.”

“Thank you, friend!” I wriggled around on the bar stool happily. I lazily wrapped my lips around the thin black straw in the glass I now held tightly in my hand. The bitter taste of alcohol, diluted by the cherry grenadine and orange slice clipped onto the rim of the glass, flooded my tongue. I shut my eyes as I enjoyed the taste, drunk enough that it didn’t actually matter how gross vodka was.

I set the glass back down upon the bar, then twisted my stool around to observe the small dance floor. It was some local dive bar we’d settled on, a place Max had been to loads of times before. It was getting crowded, especially as the night wound down. Every seat at the counter was full, the tables were occupied, and everyone on said dance floor was pushing up against each other. The couples dancing there were sights for sore eyes, all sloppy hips and wandering hands.

I moved my head side to side, with the rhythm of the song playing, lips pursed. I knew some of the words, mostly just the chorus, so I sang along when I could. I glanced over to the pool tables when I heard Sam and Ronnie cheer loudly. They were playing against Adam and Cy, who seemed to be losing quite badly. I giggled to myself as Sam chest-bumped with Ronnie.

Max, who had been talking to Oliver, who was sitting- sulking- beside us, turned his attention back to me. I was still his ‘date’ for the evening, so he had refused to let me buy my own drinks. This was incredibly dangerous. Not including the two glasses of wine I’d had back at the restaurant, I was already on my fourth drink. The liquor was making my stomach warm, my limbs loose. As for Oliver…I had been too busy enjoying myself in the bar to play with him. I was feeling like just giving up, satisfied with what I’d accomplished, growing bored of him as the alcohol filled up my attention. Besides, the man seemed uninterested in anything anymore.

“I still owe you a dance, don’t I, lovely?” Max’s voice was low in my ear, his cheek brushing against my hair.

I grinned up at him, “I think you owe me at least two.”

Max dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink before offering me his hand. As he did, Whitney Houston began playing. My mouth opened wide in excitement. I hopped off the bar and drugged him behind me, jumping to the rhythm with each step I took towards the floor. I sang to Max, holding onto his hand, pointing with every lyric, popping my hips. He swayed, but mostly let me have my moment. He pulled me every so often and my hair would whip past my shoulders.

“Spinning through the town- ah!” I squealed as Max spun me towards his chest. I clutched onto his shoulders as he dipped me, hands low on my back. As I hung there in the air, I burst out laughing, my head falling further backwards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of Oliver, now turned in his stool to face the dance floor. He wasn’t smiling, no, he was basically incapable of doing so. But, there was a small curl in his lips, a glint in his dark eyes each time the flashing lights burned his pupils. Nevermind. I was back in. I was so back in the game that it was probably unhealthy, and I’d probably regret it. The song ended, and, to my luck, S&M by Rihanna began playing. I grinned at Max as my back straightened up, my chest pressed against his.

He tilted his head at me with a playful smile, “I have a feeling Sam won’t like this.”

I wrapped my arms around Max’s neck, pushing myself flush against him. I stood on my tiptoes, glossy lips barely ghosting his earlobe as I whispered, “I don’t care.”

As I pulled away, I watched Max throw his head back and roll his eyes. “You’re killing me, love!”

“Good!”

The chorus began thumping through the speakers. I pushed Max’s leg through my own, feeling his boney hips against mine. I rolled my waist to his, tossing my hair back, leaning into his hands. He pushed his touch lower, over the curve of my tailbone, dangerously close to my ass. We danced through the song, pushing into each other, hips rolling. As it reached the bridge, Max pushed me away, still holding my hand, encouraging me to dance on my own for a moment. I did, jumping around, screaming the lyrics, hair whipping over my face. Max then spun me back into his chest.

When I thumped against his body, I knew I was going to puke. Vile pushed up my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I stumbled, ripping my hand from Max. He was speaking to me, asking if I was okay, or something of the sort, but I couldn’t hear him.

I needed to get away- get to the bathroom, get fresh air, something. I didn’t know where the ladies room was, so I b-lined for the front door, tripping through the crowd, until my fingers touched the push bar handle. My knees scraped against the pavement as I fell into the curb, retching the contents of the dinner I’d had into the bushes outside the bar. I tried to brush my hair from my face, but it was sticking to my face in bunches, sweat acting as a bondant.

Out of nowhere, I felt someone else’s warm hands on my neck, fingering my hair back into their fist, peeling strands from my cheeks and lips. I braced my hands against the dirt of the curb and some of it lodged up under my fingernails. My knees were burning, probably all cut up from my crash landing.

After a few minutes of relentless gagging, my stomach was finally empty. I pushed myself back onto my ass, tears dripping down my cheeks, black mascara smudging all the way down to my neck. My back pressed up against the stranger’s chest. I felt my shoulders shaking from the exertion my body had just gone through.

“It’s okay,” they were shushing me throughout it all, their voice now processing in my ears. They wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me to their chest as they swayed us slightly. Their other hand continued brushing my hair from my face soothingly, coaxing me down from the high of the moment. “It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

“I wanna go home,” I sobbed slightly, words slobbered from my salivating lips.

“I know, I know, s’okay,” they continued soothing me. “Think you can stand?”

I glanced down, looking over the hand that was helping me. Silver rings adorned the person’s long, slender fingers, and their pale wrist led into an arm that disappeared under a black sweatshirt. As my brain processed their voice, their sweet smell of cologne that was encasing me, my eyes widened.

“Ol-” my voice cracked, “Oliver?”

He peered over my shoulder as I looked back at him, managing to meet his eyes. “Yeah? You okay? Think you can stand, darling?”

I wanted to be angry, to jump up and yell at him for being so fucking weird, for acting like my existence was a burden, but falling to his knees whenever I was in danger. But, I couldn’t right now. I just wanted to go home. Back to the hotel, curl up in bed.

“N-no,” I admitted guiltily, brows furrowed. “I…don’t feel good.”

“S’okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. Here,” Oliver braced my back with a hand as he stood, ensuring I wouldn’t fall over onto the sidewalk. When he settled onto his feet, he pulled his phone from his pocket, shot a quick text to someone. Then, he crouched down, scooped me up, easily, into his arms. I lazily wrapped my hands around his neck.

The crevice of his shoulder was warm, so I nuzzled my head there. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping rapidly through his hoodie. I focused on the sound as he began walking. My eyes, unwillingly, fluttered shut. I didn’t know where we were going or, honestly, what the fuck was happening. But, I couldn’t care. I just needed my world to stop spinning. Besides, being so close to him felt…good. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. But, he was…he felt good.

Eventually, I guess, we made it back to the hotel. I came to from my sleepy trance when I heard the elevator ding. I took in a sharp gasp of breath, lifting my head from Oliver’s chest.

“Doing okay, Daisy?” He looked down at me. I felt us shift as the elevator lifted up on its track. I shook my head, only having enough energy to do so once, frowning deeply, “Not really.”

“S’okay, darling, we’re almost there,” Oliver assured me. My brows furrowed when I heard the pet name pass through his lips. “What?” I questioned. I suppose he’d used it a few times now, but this was the first I’d noticed it. It was…entrancing.

Oliver glanced back at me, having trained his eyes back on the doors before us, “Said we’ll be there soon, yeah?” “Darling,” I whispered, mostly to myself as I lay my head back into his neck.

I heard him chuckle softly, as though he heard my inquiring tone. The noise rattled against my cupped ear, deep, hollow in his chest. I liked the sound. I wanted to hear it more often. I cooed and felt Oliver’s chest constrict beneath my chin, as though he was taking a deep breath. We were moving again, down the hallway, towards mine and Sam’s room. Oliver stopped outside of it and shifted me in his arms. “Okay, darling, need your help here. I’ve got your purse. Could you get in it, get your key? Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

My mind was so rattled by his free use of the sweet names that I struggled to focus on the task at hand. Jaw slack, I stared up at him, hypnotized. He smiled down at me, still humored by my shock.

“Darling? Please? Your purse.”

‘‘Purse,” I nodded slowly. Then, somehow, I managed to reach for the pink strap slung over his shoulder. I fished my purse into my lap, dug around, trying to find my wallet. As I continued to search for it, I began to grow frustrated. I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep. “Can’t find it.” I began to cry again, sniffling lamely.

He soothed me with soft hushes, “S’okay. Darling, s’okay. You can just..” he huffed as he tried to come up with a solution. He peered down the hallway, towards his room. “You can just stay in my room. Don’t cry, Daisy. S…okay.”

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than me. He backtracked down the hallway, stopping before his door now. “Okay, just one more favor, darling. Can you do that for me? One more?”

“Yes,” I slurred.

Oliver tapped his fingers against the underside of my thigh. It released a net of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you reach into my back pocket, get my wallet? Yeah?”

I shifted in his arms, straining my arm over his shoulder as I reached for the wallet he spoke of. With a few soft groans from me, and the help of Oliver, who lifted me up further so I could reach, I retrieved it. I flipped it open, eyes immediately drawn to his driver’s license in the clear slot.

“You’re cute,” I muttered to myself, rubbing a finger across the picture. “December 22. Your birthday is seven months away.”

“Yes, it is, darling,” he chuckled down at me. “Now, listen-“

“My birthday is next month,” I tilted my head back, pointing my glazed smile up at him.

“Oh, yeah?” I watched as his grin grew upon meeting my eyes.

“The 12th,” I moved my hand from the wallet to his cheek, touching it softly. “You’re cute.”

His face grew hot beneath my touch. “So are you, darling. You wanna get to sleep, yeah?”

The words drew a yawn from my throat. I arched my back into his hold, nodding lazily.

“Would you take the hotel key out and press it against the handle, please? Daisy-“ he demanded my eye contact. I gave it to him, easily. I would do anything he asked, I knew at this moment.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, pushed it open for us. Oliver moved through the threshold, pressing a kiss to my temple shortly. When he spoke, his lips were so close to my ear that I felt his words in my legs. It vibrated through my veins, like the music at the bar had. He said, “Good girl.” I managed not to make a guttural noise.

Oliver carried me to his bed, gently laying my body down over the covers. I immediately curled up into myself, shivering at the cold in the air, eyes squeezed shut. I’d forgotten any conversation I’d started with him in the hallway. I was too focused on getting to sleep.

Oliver sat down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He shook me, softly, “May I take off your shoes?”

I groaned in response, hoping it came out as a positive signal for him. He laughed again, before moving his touch down to my calves. He was so warm.

Oliver lifted my one leg, just slightly, unzipping each boot before sliding them down and off my feet. He leaned over the bet to set them on the floor.

When he straightened up, he leaned in to get a closer look at my knees. “Scraped yourself up pretty good.”

I hissed as his fingers dabbed at a cut. He apologized, softly, before adding, “Let me get a cloth, okay?” His hand was on my cheek now, thumb brushing away some of the mascara that was dried on my face.

I gave him a thumbs up, my hand hitting his shoulder. He took my fingers in his and lay it back against my chest. I held his hand there, snuggling my cheek to it. Oliver sighed at the action, but then took his hand back. I heard him get up. I heard the faucet run. Suddenly, he was back, pressing a warm, damp cloth to my face.

‘‘C’mere, darling,” he sat down again. Oliver’s fingers cradled my cheek as he lifted my head up and lay it in his lap. His fingers were rough from playing the guitar, but it was nice to feel them brush the hair away from my face. He was cleaning the makeup off my face now.

Meanwhile, I was far too drunk and tired to notice the way my body reacted to his touch. Butterflies ate away at my stomach, heat sprouted from every ghost of his fingers. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, eating away at me like acid.

He moved his focus down to my knees, using some alcohol pads to wipe off dried blood on my legs. He bandaged them with whatever he found in the bathroom.

“Would you like to change out of your dress?” Oliver then asked. He was still stroking my cheek now, but the cloth was abandoned. There was no makeup to take off. He was just…touching me, just for the sake of touching me.

“Please,” I peeked open my eyes. His face was so close to mine, it almost made me flinch. But, I was taken back more by the brightness of the lights glaring down on me.

When my squinting eyes met his gaze, he grinned, “Think you can sit up for me, darling?”

I nodded, a smile forced onto my face from his beautiful expression. Oliver braced my back again, large fingers splayed out over my waist, helping me to lean against the headboard. I wanted his hands all over me. I hoped I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t think I did, but who knew at this point.

“Would you like a hoodie? T-shirt? Pants?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, hoping to find something for me.

“Hoodie,” I murmured in response, staring at the blank, black screen of the tv.

Oliver went to stand, but I reached out, fingers grasping at the strings of his jacket. He settled back onto the bed, brows furrowed as he looked down at my touch. He pointed to his chest, “This hoodie?”

“Please,” I stared at the string as I played with it. Oliver chuckled, again, before tugging his arms from the sleeves, peeling the hoodie up and over his head. My eyes glued to his chest as his shirt rode up, revealing his toned stomach, the line that I knew led to his dick. His hair was all ruffled from the movement, too, only making him more attractive to me.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed, darling?” Oliver touched his pointer finger to my slack jaw, drawing my eyes to his.

I met his dark stare, flushing red. I smiled, “Both.”

“One thing at a time. We have all summer,” he shook his head, the volume of his words lowering as he spoke, like it was a secret we were sharing with each other. What the fuck did that mean? That meant something. That meant…everything. What the fuck?

I managed to lean forward so Oliver could unzip my dress, though my mind was somewhere else. It was racing, especially as his fingers brushed down my spine. My back arched into his touch. Heat sprouted like a garden on my skin. I needed…

Oliver pulled his hoodie over my bare body. When my head popped through the opening, we shared a sweet grin. Oliver glanced up at my hair, then ran both his hands over the mess, patting it down. He cradled my head in his hands, his large, warm, hold simply gazing into my eyes.

The pace of my breathing sped up, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. I didn’t care that he was confusing, that he was an asshole 99% of the time. I didn’t care that he probably tasted like cigarette smoke, that I’d puked thirty minutes ago, or that he was my brother’s boss.

I needed his lips on mine. He had been the center of my thoughts these past few weeks. And he was finally right there for the taking.

I pushed forward with so much effort that I tackled Oliver onto the bed. I grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, guiding his lips to mine. He made a noise as his back hit the bed, the air knocked out of him. I straddled his waist, somehow, sloppily kissing him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Oliver touched my waist and kissed me back. Then, he braced his hands against my shoulders, leaned his head back far enough into the bed that he could get away.

“Daisy-“

“Oliver, please!” I tugged at his shirt, whining like a child who had their candy stolen.

Oliver laughed at my puckered lips, squeezed-shut eyes. He sat us up, me in his lap, his hands moving to my waist. The movement forced my eyes open, my lips coming to a frown on my face. I furrowed my brows, puppy-dog eyes staring up at him with a pleading in my pupils.

“Daisy, you’re drunk,” he touched my cheek, trying to ground my gaze to his, hoping the explanation would make sense to my drunken mind.

But, it didn’t, of course. Besides, this was rejection. Rejection from the guy who rolled his eyes everytime I spoke. Rejection from the guy who got hard because of my thigh pressing against his leg in the car. The confusion of the situation was overwhelming me.

And the only thing I could think to say was, “Why don’t you want me?”

Oliver’s gaze softened. He didn’t even have to think of his response. It came so naturally, “I do. I…I do want you.”

His voice was soft, a whisper passed between just our breaths. My grip on his shirt loosened as I relaxed in his lap. I was still frowning, though, still confused, “Then why…why are you so mean to me?”

“It’s complicated, darling,” he searched my face, worry in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just…let’s just get you to bed, okay? We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling? Besides, we have a plane to catch in five hours.” I nodded, though it was slow, unsure. Oliver helped me under the covers, tucking them up to my chin sweetly. He brushed my hair back again, eyes lingering on my fluttering-shut eyes. I mumbled, barely coherent, slurred words, “Please lay with me.”

Oliver shook his head, “I can’t do that, darling.” “Why?” I pouted my lip.

And, though I forgot a lot of details about this night, his response was something I would never, ever let slip from my memory.

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #sleep token x y/n #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel (sleep token) x reader

82 notes · View notes

honey-minded-hivemind · 15 days

Note

Another cute scene I thought of:

Kitty: what did you guys get on question 6?

Pietro: I got 7

Wanda: I got 9

Kitty: Damn, I got 42, guess I flunked this math quiz… Reader, what did you get?

Reader, with this expression 🫠: I got George Washington…

-Later-

Professor Xavier (who’s favorite student definitely isn’t reader, what are you talking about?): I got your tests back. Except for Readers, sadly your test…drowned. You get an A though

- ❤️ Anon

🤣😂😅 Oh dear... I can see that happening! But I raise you this: What if Reader actually was correct? Now that would be hilarious 😆...

• I headcanon Reader is great with things like algebra and multiplication, just maybe not word questions in math or English

• Reader is good with drawing notes, charts, and diagrams/pictures for science, biology and anatomy classes. Scarily accurate, in a way, at least compared to the other teens closer to their age

• Reader has weaker arms, but really strong legs. They're a good defense on sports teams, so they're more likely to block someone or hit/kick/strike the ball to someone else (they accidentally kicked someone in the shin, hard enough for then to fall over in agony)

• Reader is good at baking/cooking. They tend to be okay with measurements, but struggle a bit when it comes to dry vs. wet ingredients and diffent oven temperatures

• I'm going to say the campus appears similar to a boarding school: Everyone lives there, basically

• Reader does not have a roommate; they are invited to stay over with others, though... or have a few platonic yans invite themselves to stay over with Reader in their room

• The town near the school (it's a few miles out) is pretty much like a ghost town, save for a few odd individuals... There are places to go for field trips, such as a science and history museum, an aquarium, an art museum, and some landmarks/environments such as a mountain range, the beach/coast, and a few forests...

• The Town has a few places to visit, for food or clothes or movies, it's just... really, really quiet... If it weren't for the few people living there, one would think they're in the middle of nowhere...

• Is there a uniform? Not exactly? Everyone has to wear a wristband that states their name and school number, but otherwise? There isn't much of a dress code

• The campus has dorms, it has a few built-in cafes and galleries, as well as an auditorium, gymnasium, pool, garden, library, and a few other places... (Don't look beneath the /&>=# &!))... )

• The students and teachers have their own living areas and recreational rooms. Sometimes the students throw large sleepovers in one or two of their rec rooms, because no one's room is big enough to hold everyone; Reader, once they join the school, is being invited to these sleepovers almost every time

• The students, the mutants ones, have their mutations. Sometimes they have to take a day or two off, due to them (namely those who have feral mutations and instincts, those with mind-reading or telepathy, those with specific needs where their mutation has to be controlled, ex. Rogue wearing gloves, Scott wearing glasses, etc.)

• Reader has a mutation, but for some unknown reason, it isn't showing or known to the students or teachers... They've had tests done and had the feral mutants see if they can scent the X-gene from them (it causes a distinct scent), and so far Reader has passed each test... It's confusing for a lot of them...

• There is a dark secret buried beneath everything, something pulling a few characters' strings and forcing paths and actions... But this secret keeps itself hidden and unknown... What I can say, without spoiling anything, is that it's not one person who's behind it... It's several...

And these are a few fun facts to know about the 📒Mutant High🧪 AU!

(Thank you, ❤ Anon, or Bee🐝!) (Or BeaBee🐝!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #📒mutant high🧪 au

20 notes · View notes

ochipi · 21 days

Text

I went to a local art museum yesterday and I was shivering to my core. AI has made it into a museum.

The right panel is the third panel of a 17th century triptych (oil on wood). The left is an AI generated image with white painted letters over it.

I’ll try to keep it short as to why I don’t like this piece of “Art”.

A 17th century piece (which looks very pretty and well painted) completely taken out of its value, place, context ... Placed between “modern art”.

The panel was part of a triptych. Remake it at least as such or don’t add any additional work, as it was never ever intended to be displayed as such. (You can have them mirrored, but leave space between them).

Call me dumb, but my first instinct when I saw it was “both are fake”. The AI image looks good. But I really had to get close to find the paint cracks on the right panel to assure myself.

17th century art is as photorealistic as painted art got. The portrayal of emotions, movement, action, thought and light have never been more accurately put to life. On the left a dude just added a bunch of words into a computer….

Mind you, this picture was taken April 4th. The work dates “2024”. Some dude just really did this and the museum was like “gimme!” There hasn’t even gone time over it for the world to do something with it. No (online) debate, no gallery display, no articles,… it was just… made and hung up.

The artist didn’t even come up with an original idea (a Frenchmen in the 1970s did something similar). He didn’t even have the skill to manually create the mirror image. He just went to his computer, got himself white paint and had good enough handwriting to at least write in a straight line. “Art”

I’m not enough of a pro to go more in depth. Also art is never singular. Please, let’s start the debate. I’m curious to hear everyone’s vision on this.

#history #art history #baroque #dutch baroque #ai art #artificial intelligence #debate #museum

22 notes · View notes

brw · 2 months

Note

5 headcanons about Beast!

5 headcanons about Wonder Man!

And for an encore, 5 Wonderbeast headcanons. :)

For Hank!

Really enjoys cooking but does so extremely rarely because of the whole fur thing. Sometimes he'll just stand behind someone in the kitchen with his arms crossed like an Italian father at a construction site so he can feel involved. Jarvis quite liked having the company.

Has a quite deep voice, particularly when singing. My explanation is that he sings Sinatra in the tub and Sinatra's a baritone, and you know Hank has had enough karaoke nights to know his range.

We've never seen it but I choose to believe he visited Wanda and Vision and the twins at least once! Definitely brought a large collection of books that were way too advanced for some 8 month olds but justified that they'd be old enough for them eventually. It affected him more than he's ever really articulated that they never got to that age, because they were the first superhero couple he really knew to have a family.

I think the Scottish side of his family is from Nairn and I think he visited there once as a child and absolutely hated it but couldn't say this and slightly dreads the thought of ever going there again (his mistake was visiting over Christmas. Nairn in Winter is fucking miserable)

He's an anonymous patron to various art galleries and museums, along with Charles Xavier. Talking to each other about art is the closest Hank feels to Charles and is something he values to try and remind himself of all the good Charles has done for him and all the opportunities he's given him (said through gritted teeth)

And for SIMON.

Played the violin from a young age. This wasn't something he was necessarily forced to do but it was something he kept up for far longer than he would have liked to because of his fear of disappointing his father etc. He's still quite good at it but doesn't make a habit of playing. Eric was taught the piano and if Simon does ever play he's always imagining piano keys accompanying it.

To go with Hank, sings in a surprisingly high pitched register despite his actual voice not being that high. It just makes sense these two would match each other very well for karaoke. Does this count as a Wonderbeast headcanon. Oh well.

Puts on a kind of generic Californian accent most of the time but slips into that run-on, very fast-paced Transatlantic when he speaks to Eric and Vision. Occasionally Hank, if he's not watching himself, and it's something he's oddly self-conscious about.

Every time he returns from death his powers seem to jump forward. Part of his long standing fear of death was the knowledge that it came with him becoming more and more unrecognisably human. Going off the 90s Wonder Man solo, he probably should be able to stop time if he thought about it next time he dies but luckily for everyone he's not going to think about it.

The very few times something penetrates his ionic skin, the underneath glows a harsh magenta until he can concentrate on covering it up with human-appearing skin.

And finally! <3

They do each other's ties before any formal function. I think this started proper at Simon's first premiere and I think the few times they ever did stuff like that during Hank's feline form it's something Simon took very seriously and Hank was very emotionally touched by like the sap he is.

They would be extremely pretentious about their vinyl collection together. Sarah Vaughan is the soundtrack to every lazy Sunday morning.

They can't watch movies together because Simon takes a kind of perverse joy in telling Hank what assholes some actors are to work with or like background rumours and it completely distracted from what Hank calls his cinematic experience.

Simon isn't allowed to go shopping alone because once he bought an entire aisle's worth of eggs because he doesn't know how either shopping or the food requirements of ordinary people works. Hank can no longer eat omelettes as a consequence.

Both of them have pretty good night vision so occasionally they'll be up late chatting or basking in comfortable silence and absolutely scare the absolute shit of some unwilling Avenger coming for a midnight snack and sees a pair of glowing red and yellow eyes hovering in the living room. They make an accident but very creepy pair. Or maybe it's not 100% accidental, who's to say.

#thank you :3 #i had fun writing these i tried to share ones i haven't already! but i might have forgotten so apologies #hank mccoy #wonder man #wonderbeast #retag later

16 notes · View notes

rippedstitch-s · 4 months

Text

S C O R C H E D E A R T H .

Below the cut is a moment in the life of ASA HOLLAND, in his 4th floor apartment in Manhattan.

Please be aware of all trigger warnings before proceeding.

tw // murder, blood, gore, torture mention, medical malpractice

--- - -- --

Scorched earth.

His ribs are a burning church and the devil's set it on fire.

But the same hands pouring the kerosene are the ones that chase away the fumes. Tug his heart free and out just in time. Crisped by the lick of the flame, but alive.

Very much alive.

Too alive.

He feels everything too much.

It's a burden, now.

He yearns and aches and the pangs are now bullets. He staggers from each shot, but he stands. Leaning and frail, dripping black ichor onto a ceaseless floor.

Still stands.

There is blackness behind his eyes now. The shine of light, the reflection of sweetness, has faded like a candle burnt for too long.

The wick's been doused out in its own hot wax.

Consumed and encased.

Consumed is a good word for it - the way he’s trapped in mania. The enticing fingers of long shadows, the snapshot of puddles of blood. It's scorched into retinas.

Red likes to filter over his vision like he’s sitting in that darkroom. The photos hung in the darkness are unintelligible- just as black as everything else. Maybe bodies, maybe parts, but disembodied.

Every face is blotted into smudges like charcoal.

An illustrator sees art in the slaughtered and mangled. In the gnarled scab across his chest, the twisted fingers beneath ink and bandage.

And absolutely in the demon who kisses and cleans him.

A lover who brings him to fever, then wipes his sweat-stained brow. Drains the bad blood from his body in his sickbed.

Medicinal, the comfort it brings.

Depraved, the thoughts it tugs through.

It's chiaroscuro; the shadows deep within the planes of his lover's face - dark, bold blots, no light until suddenly there's plenty. Whereas in his own, the cross-hatching of fine ink across Asa's nose, mouth, cheeks. Thin lines in meticulous detail. The building up of shade.

Forms of black and white, so different but a similar medium. fit for a gallery, perhaps a museum.

Meant to be studied, really.

It’s in this creativity that his mania sits and holds out its hands. As the scratchy lines come in a fervor from charcoals and pastels, as blood drips from a lip bitten too hard and for too long in concentration.

The mania smiles, and collects his pieces into an embrace.

It’s not too hard to connect the twisted body of his father scrawled on drafting paper to the ink blot that grows around him.

Abysm, after abysm, after abysm.

But with its arms it becomes...

Still. So still.

There’s no buzzing and pounding in his head. The oil spill has coated everything and muted it all in molasses.

It's floating. No pain.

No pleasure, either. It just... is.

A finger finally traces the blood that’s streaked into graphite and chalky dust, realizing it’s there for the first time.

Thick, sap-like on his fingers as he traces another drop and watches it peter out into nothing. A streak of alizarin crimson - an artist's palette. Acrylics. Oils.

Such material is easy enough to find, if he wants it. If he searches for it. The texture is far better than most paints.

It's so still.

Has the clock stopped ticking on the wall, or is he deep in a state again? Is it the batteries, or is he... batty?

....he didn't used to be, did he?

It's his father's fault. In his hopes of avoiding his son's insanity, he ensured it and came face to face with it.

Conor Holland died for his crimes against his son. As he should have.

Dr. Hartley. Torture. Medical malpractice. Defunct equipment. Killed. As he should have been.

Romeo Valtori. Apartment manager... rude. Misogynistic. Disgusting. Killed as well. Goodbye.

Maybe it's not so difficult to find people who deserve it. Just squint and there they are.

Laid out in funny little rows.

More red for a palette. More bodies for the ink blot on the kaleidoscope. More peace, more stillness.

A win win.

The church's charred remains fall. Debris everywhere. An explosion of fire and brimstone.

Yet his heart beats, thrums in the hands of a killer. A lover. He holds it so carefully for someone so cruel.

A ribcage can be rebuilt - the church can be reconstructed.

And the burning just smells like winter, and hydroquinone, and a night wrapped in silk sheets.

Peace. Stillness.

#asamuse #selfthread #phew. emotional to write tbh #but i love working on asa's state of mind #tw torture mention #tw murder #tw blood #tw gore

19 notes · View notes

janeblr · 2 months

Note

Do you have any thoughts/headcanons on ge//ri//ta??

SO many thoughts. It’s the foundational ship for this fandom ofc.

Firstly, let me establish that I am a Germany-is-HRE truther. Everyone knows that EXCEPT Lutz himself but they all just kind of agree to not mention it. So Feli KNOWS that the boy he love(s/d) is RIGHT. THERE. But he can’t say anything to suggest they’re the same person because to Lutz, that’s a different nation who died, and Feli doesn’t want to confuse or upset him. But Lutz does love him, and not just because of any lingering memories from before!!! He fell in love with Feli completely on his own, and he would fall in love with him over and over again. AUGH. Once they both get their heads out of their asses and express their feelings for each other, FELI is actually the one who takes it slow because he’s afraid of making Lutz feel like he’s just a stand-in for HRE. Feli doesn’t want to jump right to “established relationship” because even though that’s how it kind of feels for him, that’s not how it feels for Lutz. So they take it slow <3 first dates, flowers, first kisses… augh.

Anyways enough with the amnesia agony. THE AGE GAP!!!! Lutz, in his experience, is only about 150 years old. But Feli has been around for over 1300 years. Cradle robber smh. It just cracks me up. And Feli forgets sometimes that Ludwig doesn’t remember anything before the 1870s so he’ll offhandedly mention something that happened hundreds of years ago as if everyone knows it, and Lutz is just like ??? I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. So even though Lutz often thinks that he’s the more “mature” one, Feli will make some joke about Byzantine Empire being bad in bed and Lutz suddenly feels very, very young. Feli often has to explain in-jokes between all the older nations to him or provide an INSANE amount of context for a simple passing comment. Lana del ray wants what they have.

Ok enough background. Let’s get to the headcanons

Their first dates were very simple <3 Museums, restaurants, art galleries, etc. Feli loves taking Lutz to art galleries and explaining the artworks and their historical backgrounds in vivid detail, and Lutz could listen to Feli talk passionately about art and architecture all day <333 Really I think he just likes the sound of his voice, his musical accent and animated speech. Every once in a rare while Feli will sing, maybe just a couple lines to a song, and Lutz fucking MELTS. They stopped going to restaurants after their first few dates after Lutz was like. Actually. Your cooking is way better and I like helping you in the kitchen. So let’s just do that instead. <3 Realistically a lot of their dates are things they were doing before they were a couple, just in a different light.

Feli taught Lutz how to relax <3 lounging in bed all day, curling up on the sofa with a cup of cocoa and a good book, just enjoying life without worrying about deadlines and routines. Although I don’t think Lutz will ever be able to sleep in the same way Feli can, they absolutely spend Saturday mornings in bed until midday, just tangled up in each other with not a care in the world <3

Conversely, Lutz taught Feli the joys of physical activity besides the walk from the sofa to the fridge lol. Hikes, bike rides, anything that gets them outside and moving. Feli has never been super outdoorsy or active, but breathing in crisp Alpine air and being surrounded by trees older than him is incredible. And he’s enjoying it with the man he loves <3

Meals! Entrées are Italian, desserts are German. Feli never acquired a taste for German food but goddamn that man can make a pie like nobody else. Feli is a lot more passionate about cooking (and Lutz can’t be trusted in front of a stove) but Lutz is happy to help chop vegetables or stir a pot of sauce. The one time they switched roles, Feli was stuck eating some sad, burnt to all hell potato and beef thing, and Lutz learned that he really hates tiramisu. This is not a condemnation of German food, they have some bangers, Lutz is just a bad cook lol.

They do indeed fight and argue like every other couple. Feli tends to be messy, leaving laundry all over the place and not cleaning up his dishes, whereas Lutz is neurotic about cleanliness and goes INSANE trying to convince Feli to just. Put his laundry in the fucking basket. Feli gets mad because sometimes Lutz will treat him like he’s incompetent or just outright stupid. Like there’s a reason he’s still alive and thriving after all this time. Get fucked mate. Ultimately their fights often come down to Feli being inconsiderate and Lutz being condescending.

They’re both fucking obsessed with how the other looks. Lutz is all strength and muscle and Feli wants to bite down on his forearms like a chew toy, and Lutz will never get enough of how Feli’s little waist feels in his hands or having those long legs wrapped around his hips. Also Ludwig is often like:

lol anyways. That’s all I’ve got right now, I have to do my timesheets or I won’t get paid for this week.

#mypost #japh

11 notes · View notes

defectivehero · 1 year

Text

cat and mouse

“The thrill of the chase consumes you,” the detective says aloud. There’s no one else in the museum, supposedly, but he can sense the thief’s presence. He tries to think of something else that may lure them into conversation. “It gives you an inflated sense of self.”

“You forget yourself, detective,” the thief whispers, their breath hot on his ear. The detective can’t help but stiffen, although the thief’s proximity is only for a moment. Sure enough, the thief is soon standing a few meters away. “Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” the thief asserts. The detective can’t exactly take comfort in that statement, for obvious reasons. He supposes the words would mean something if the thief were trustworthy but, unfortunately, they are not. The thief’s beliefs and attitudes are fickle. The detective could be in their favor one moment and on the chopping block the next. No sense in rationalizing that kind of waverance.

“You’re a thief, not a murderer,” the detective feels the need to say regardless. The thief levels them with an inquisitive gaze for a rather long time. Just when he begins to twitch under the pressure, they look away.

“Or so they say,” the thief says casually, making an encompassing motion with their hands. The gleam in their eyes speaks to their amusement, but the dark smile on their face is pure malice.

“You don’t want me dead,” the detective backtracks to the thief’s prior statement. He stares at them, trying to find hints of their thoughts in their posture. Somehow, the thief is a blank slate. There is nothing memorable in their frame or their expression. The detective can’t help but think that they’re practiced at hiding behind a facade.

“Not just yet,” the thief answers, crossing their arms over their chest. They bring a hand to their chin in evident contemplation. “Might have to ask again in a few weeks.”

“You're going to the Renaissance art gallery,” the detective realizes aloud, shooting the thief a questioning look. For a long moment, the burglar just stares at them in silence. The detective frowns and tries to think of the error in his statement. There will be a gallery in exactly three weeks in this very museum. The thief’s eyes had flitted about the space as they uttered the phrase: “a few weeks.” The detective put two and two together. It was a simple deduction, really.

“Very clever, detective,” the thief then remarks, falling to a crouching position. They mess with something metallic in their hands. The detective wants to identify what it is, but the object disappears in the blink of an eye. The thief must sense his gaze and they smirk. “You truly are as sharp as they say.”

“Perhaps not,” the detective sighs. His next words slip from his lips with little effort. “You always seem to allude me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” the thief remarks. Before the detective can so much as flinch, there are hands pulling at his collar. To his surprise, when he looks down, he finds that the collar of his coat is folded down. The detective scowls and squints at the thief, who materializes in front of him within a few seconds. Was that really necessary?

“You have some sort of superpower,” the detective announces instead. The cogs and gears in his mind are beginning to turn- albeit a bit more slowly than he’d like. The thief remains infuriatingly silent. “Enhanced speed... Agility?”

“You’ll get there, eventually,” the thief smiles understandingly, which is a strange expression to witness. Their gaze has yet to move from the detective’s face and it’s starting to throw him off. “I have faith.”

“Coming from you, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” The detective frowns.

“I’m offended, dear detective,” the thief chuckles. They procure a golden coin out of seemingly nowhere and spin it on the tip of their finger. The detective becomes so focused on the coin that it takes them a few moments to process what the thief says next. “My faith is the eighth wonder of the world.” The detective lets out a choked laugh, resisting the compelling urge to facepalm.

“Ah, so you can play along. Good to know... for future reference.” The thief remarks, the mischievous grin on their face only increasing. The detective takes a deep breath. “Well. As fun as this has been, I really must get going.”

The detective doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for remaining quiet. The thief maintains eye contact for a bit, as if searching for something in his expression. The thief then nods and their image phases for the briefest of moments. A hand slips through the detective’s for the briefest of moments. The detective looks down, only to find that he’s now grasping a single rose. The thief’s laugh echoes throughout the halls of the museum. It seems that, in the detective’s distraction, they managed to escape. The detective can’t quite summon the frustration that he should be feeling.

When he makes it back to his office, the detective places the single rose in a vase on his desk and resolutely pretends not to think about the alluring thief.

apparently, a performer gives a rose to the person that they dedicate their performance to! [I definitely did not just learn of that through an ace attorney fic]

also, it pissed me off that “waverance” isn’t a word so i made it one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ grammar is my bitch.

finally... listening to gimme!gimme!gimme! by abba while writing this was THE MOVE. the!!!!!! move!!!!!

TAG LIST: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments

click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!

#defectivehero #hero x villain #heroes and villains #detective x thief #detective #thief #thieves #yuh #writing #short fic #snippet #writeblr #writers on tumblr #I haventposted in a while and im forgetting the tags #how embarassing #PLS FORGIVE ME PEEPS

113 notes · View notes

ramblingandwritings · 2 years

Text

V fluff alphabet

A = Activities (What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?)

V is a sucker for museums, graveyards, and art galleries. If you can take him to see Blake's art in person, he'll be tempted to marry you then and there. He's never been so happy in his life

B = Beauty (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?)

Your patience with him. He's having to adjust to being his own person while still being half of someone else and adapt to being in a relationship on top of it all. He knows he's not exactly easy to be around some days

Plus dealing with Griffon is it's own thing. Even he struggles with handling him from time to time

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Face to face or half spoon. Falling asleep together, you're likely to wake up tangled in the blankets, fully pressed against each other. He really doesn't mind, it's warm and cozy

D = Dreams (How do they picture their future with their s/o?)

He wouldn't mind getting out of demon hunting and helping Morrison with background work or maybe opening a bookstore

No matter what he ends up doing, he'd like to have a home together. He's not picky about choosing a house, he just doesn't want to spend another night in Nico's van

E= Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

It's a partnership through and through. Most decisions are made together unless they're just petty choices, then it defaults to whoever is more interested in it

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He can't see kids being in the picture. Putting up with Dante, Nico and Nero is enough as it is and they're grown

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He understands the importance of a good gift and he'll never get you a bad one. He pays close attention to the stuff you like and chooses carefully

When it comes to receiving gifts, he loves chokers, jewelry and books of course. The things he cherishes the most are things that belong to you that you give to him

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He doesn't always want to hold hands, but he'll never reject you if you reach for him. He understands the need for human touch too well

If you're in a crowded space then he'll grab your hand just to make sure you don't get separated

I = Inspiration (Did their s/o change them or the other way around?)

You've helped him solidify himself as a unique person fully separated from Vergil. His identity is a confusing mess to navigate, but atleast he doesn't have to go it alone

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

Occasionally, but he knows you aren't responsible for his feelings. He'll just let the issue go unless someone is deliberately hitting on you and then he'll passive aggressively respond to them. If push really comes to shove then it's time for Griffon and Shadow to come out

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser?)

His kisses are slow and sweet, he's in no rush, neither are you. He might leave you with a few marks on your neck depending on how he's feeling at the moment

L = Love Confession (How would they confess to their s/o?)

He says it in the back of Nico's van while everyone is out. He knows it's not the most romantic place or circumstance, but there was a worry pressing in the back of his mind that he could lose you at any moment. Maybe it was just anxiety or the horrifying knowledge that he's always in danger and so are you. Either way, he couldn't ignore it. He quietly urged you to sit next to him, so he could say what he needed

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?)

He's all on board with marriage once he makes sure he won't disintegrate into nothing, he doesn't want to get married and die soon after. Seems rude to marry someone and then widow them immediately

The proposal is fully private, V only wants to hear your answer and no one else's comments on it. He'll tolerate the questions from the others later

N = Nicknames (What do they call their s/o?)

Beloved, love and angel

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

He sneaks glances at you when he thinks no one is looking, Nero immediately recognizes the looks he gives you but says nothing. Griffon isn't as kind and will ruin the moment damn near everytime he sees it happening

He goes out of his way to be a gentleman, opening doors, pulling chairs and offering his hand if you need to step off of something

P = PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Are they rather shy when others are watching?)

He's fine with light touches and hand holding, maybe a light kiss or two. Truthfully, even without all of that, it's obvious you're in a relationship just from how close he stands

Q = Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.)

His affinity for magic comes in handy frequently

R = Romance (How romantic are they? Cliché or rather creative?)

He's an absolute hopeless romantic. He's planned a number of picnics for the two of you, if that says anything

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He doesn't exactly see the point in hiding himself after it came out that he's the human side of Vergil. He's honest about what he's feeling and what he wants, he expects the same from you

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Not long. After you went out on about four dates, he was comfortable committing to a relationship

U = Understanding (How good do they know their partner?)

V is incredibly capable of manipulation which requires a certain knowledge of how people work. He's got a pretty good handle on how you tick because of that alone

V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

You're his number one priority and Nero 100% encourages it. Quite frankly, so does Dante, but that's because he doesn't want to deal with Vergil 2.0: Heartbroken Boogaloo if anything happens to you or the relationship

W = Wild Card (A random Fluff Headcanon.)

He kisses the back of your hand every night before sleeping. It's a habit of his, something that reassures both of you that neither of you are going anywhere

X = XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

V basks in all the attention you can give him and returns it gladly

Z = Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?)

While not as destructive as Vergil, he's still willing to go to extreme lengths to keep you unharmed, including black magic

#Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry x reader #V x reader #V #DMC V

163 notes · View notes

lumsel · 8 months

Text

What is art?

To answer this question, we must first ask a different question:

What is a chair?

It's hard to define exactly, because chairs take so many different forms. Sometimes they have legs, sometimes they have a back, sometimes they're soft... there's a lot of variation that makes it hard to define a chair with specificity. But if we do want an all-encompassing definition, the best one I can come up with is as follows: A chair is an object intended to be sat on.

A simple enough a definition, but it carries some weighty implications. You'lll note, it doesn't describe anything about the object itself. You could take apart an object atom by atom and find no concrete information as to whether it was "intended" to be sat on. The definition is entirely reliant on the "intent" behind which the chair was made.

This gets weird if you bear it out. Imagine a perfect cube, with a slightly plush texture. Is this a chair? The answer is... it depends on what it's for. Giant novelty dice? Not a chair. But if it's made to be sat on, that's a chair. You might argue it's not that good a chair, it's got no back and it's a little too firm for your butt, but it's still a chair.

On the other hand, a urinal is not a chair when it's in a bathroom. You don't sit in THAT. But... if you detached a urinal from its wall, and put it next to the table in your living room, put a cushion inside it, then isn't it a chair now. You have "made a chair" out of the urinal! It, too, may not be that comfortable, and maybe it's more than a little wanky, but it's hard to say it's not a chair at all.

This, on its own, is not a chair, but it can be made into one without any alteration to the object itself by altering the context in which it is presented. In the woods, this rock is not a chair, but in the lobby of a museum it way well be. The rock has been transmuted into a new object without any modification to its form. And on the flipside-- even the most perfectly chair-shaped rock is not a chair until a human comes along and designates it as one, recontextualises it. Until then, it is still merely a rock. The process of making something into a chair is not necessarily a physical one, it can be as simple as redefining an object with no alterations made!

Art is like a chair. It is defined not by any aspect of the thing itself, but by the intent with which it is created, or the context in which it is presented. Chairs are made to be sat in, art is meant to instill some emotion or idea in the viewer.

You can take things that were not art before, and modify them into becoming art. And yet, you can also make things into art without any alterations to the object at all. A urinal in a bathroom is not art, but in the display case of an art gallery it may well be. It is possible to have two objects, indistinguishable from each other on the molecular level, but one is art because it is presented with artistic intent, and the other is not, so it is not.

A lot of categories function like this: whether something could be called a "digging implement" also depends on the intent. A shovel is made to dig with, so it counts. You might have a really bad shovel, one brittle and rusty with barely any handle, and you could say that's a bad digging implement, but it's made to dig so it still lands in the category. An oar for a canoe can be used to dig with, but it's not made for digging, so you wouldn't count it as one.

It's not universal though, some categories really do have very concrete definitions. Water, for example, is a chemical consisting of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, generally in its liquid form. This is can be defined objectively without taking into account context or intent. Art, and chairs, are different.

And one last point: if you come across a fallen tree in the woods, you could potentially "use it as a chair" by sitting on it. In that sense, you take a non-chair object but bestow chairhood on it for the period of time that you need it for. And when you sit up again, it reverts to being just a log.

I wonder if you can do the same with art?

#txt #art

29 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

heroinazer0

Don't Take This Seriously. Seriously.

lostedits

bee-1-bee

I Barely Do Anything

kvtli

Untitled

walakamingurl-blog

Gustong pumasa