#simple sunset painting easy

[luffyvace]

☆彡PHANTOM TROUPE RELATIONSHIP HCS ☆彡

(separate)

Disclaimer: Credits to the artists!! I own none of these pictures!

I procrastinated on these for way too long.. still! Enjoy! <3 (these exclude hisoka & Kalluto)

Chrollo:

Chrollo is a lover that takes care of whom he loves!

therefore, he takes care of you!

Any hobbies you have, he’ll indulge in them with you

any supplies you need for said hobbies?

art supplies, ski gear, ice skates, computer, hiking equipment!

The list goes on

even if you never actually use the stuff he buys he doesn’t mind :)

cuz hey! He didn’t actually buy it! 🤪

chrollo will truly do anything in his power to keep you happy

and we all know power is something he certainly does have

he can buy you a luxury house and car all the way down to cuddling in the warm rays of the sunset while having a cookout

i guarantee if your upset, he’ll make you happy within the next hour

chrollo probably never learned how to love properly

but with you?? The definition of love doesn’t matter. he’s just grateful he has it.

you make him feel like he knows what he’s doing with himself in life.

he’s less lost, if I may say.

he’s found a home, in you.

Nobunaga:

nobunaga was never familiar with love and never even thought about the fact that he wasn’t interested!

but here you are simply having a conversation, chatting.

and yet even with such a simple act he feels so nervous?? While excited and happy at the same time??

he wonders why he even feels so fidgety!

your just talking!!

how on the earth are you making him act a fool like this?!

like yeah your pretty and he likes your personality and you two have the same interests plus all of your interactions have gone good…..man he really is in love huh

WHAT IS THIS SOME SAPPY ROMANCE MOVIE?

now I know it only seems like he has a crush

but you two are actually already in the relationship!!

and yes, he still gets nervous. The feeling never goes away

once he tried to ask if you still get butterflies n stuff and if you said no he was so embarrassed!!!!

seriously he brushes it off like it didn’t bother him and never brings it up again

Feitan:

feitan will probably do better with a nonchalant or sadist partner so 1) you can enjoy torturing with him or 2) you won’t care or get grossed out that he does

If your not doesn’t matter he’s still gonna anyway-

he’s not the typa dude to change for love

but that aside

he likes your quiet company

so like reading together (whether it’s two different books or not)

and reviewing to each other

learning new skills from/with each other

actually sometimes feitan teaches you cool human body facts!!

Like how brains are around 60% fat!

or that they weight 3 pounds! ;D

how cool is that?!

yes this is his tastes in topics and humor

and he only laughs if you say stuff like “gross!” Or “ew that’s disgusting!”

he will be satisfied if you find it cool too

Long story short don’t go into his library

you won’t find any books you like there unless you like what he does

Machi:

She’s an assertive domestic girlfriend

Plus she’s really caring

but caring doesn’t always mean sweet and happy all the time

while she has no problem taking care of you..

you better either get up and do some things yourself or return the favor !

She expects you to at least be able to get daily tasks done

either that or clean the whole house like she was gonna do. you choose.

your place is probably really simple yet well decorated

Not for an aesthetic but because of just general things you have

like a shoe rack, the pretty furniture and rugs, the dart board she owns, any hobby equipment you own (easel, paintings, hockey equipment, hiking equipment, etc)

it all just makes a really cozy look for your house

and yes you two definitely play darts together

she will win unapologetically and won’t hold back

she wants to genuinely see you improve so she doesn’t go easy on you

“You can’t get better by playing against somebody worse than you”

Phinks:

phinks in a relationship is literally the definition of a guy who could pull more if he was less nervous

but he obviously pulled you and that’s what matters most

he gets flustered easily but tries to hide it

(Spoiler: he fails)

phinks will try to be romantic but it’ll either get ruined by his friends crashing the date

*ahem* shal and fei 😒(😂💗)

or he’ll just be so incredibly nervous that it doesn’t go as smoothly as he planned

he thinks up these brilliant romantic scenarios in his head but can never seem to execute them 🤨😕

it’s the thought that counts 🤷‍♀️💝

he would truly be such a romantic if he could just stop freaking out

I mean don’t get me wrong it’s not like it never works

when it does, he’s excited in the moment

but as soon as it’s over he’s worrying like crazy about how he’s gonna upstage that from last time

Especially without screwing up and making a fool of himself

little does he know you love him all the same 😂

Shalnark:

is really teasing and playful so I hope your not hot headed

if your aren’t and choose to prank him back instead?

it literally becomes prank wars

at some point the pranks started a real (petty) argument

after it was settled you decided not to terrorize each other anymore

now you target the troupe with your antics! 😆

your main victim is phinks

mostly because his reaction is really funny

Plus he’s the easiest to get mad

LOL

but back to the original topic where your hot headed….

yeah the argument probably ended up happening sooner than not

although at first he doesn’t take it seriously because your always getting mad like this

then you say something that makes him realize your serious

he feels really stupid for not noticing sooner

he’ll genuinely apologize (for literally once in his life)

and direct his pranks to someone else

after that you probably end up watching the victims and find it funny too

so you still end up bonding over it 😅💖

Franklin:

Franklin is not necessarily gentle

he’s just more coolheaded than not

like the time he started fighting with uvogin in the 1999 version

like he’s chill until you say the wrong thing

but that’s just how he is in general

he never gets mad at s/o

his patience is infinity+ for you

You may have secretly tried to make him angry or at least annoyed-

but if it one day goes too far he says “stop.” with a very serious tone/look and you probably stop from there 😀

😗

otherwise if you don’t decide to test the waters from jump, Franklin doesn’t have many hobbies so he’ll literally just indulge in what you like

like it doesn’t even matter if he finds it boring

you’d never know because he’d be so supportive of you doing what you love

but it’s more likely than not he’ll enjoy a few

franklin is also decent at like every house chore ever, cooking, sweeping/cleaning for example

like he knows how to do everything, but he’s just average at it

Shizuku:

Shizuku is very forgetful

she forgets chores, how to cook certain things, favors you asked her to do

But you don’t have to worry about her forgetting things about you solely because she would never date anyone she doesn’t know enough to remember

She probably wouldn’t remember she likes you so why would she?!

Unless like she forgets how long she’s known you-

AND LIKE- MAGICALLY THINKS YALL BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS WHEN YALL MET 6 MONTHS AGO

That’s a writing prompt

she’d be remembering memories that never happened and everything 🤦‍♀️

But we won’t go into that here…

it’s probably low key annoying that you have to do a lot of things because she keeps forgetting

so I sure hope your patient..

“huh? You never asked me to do that..”

”no! You didn’t, I remember! you never even came in the living room!” (Her saying ‘I remember’ is ironic I know)

With a more motherly and provider mindset reader she’d do just fine

At the very least shizuku will remember your favorite things and gift you them when she can<3

isnt that sweet?!

see?? It’s not like she’s being a jerk!

she genuinely forgot!

Pakunoda:

pakunoda is wife criteria

she can do everything

she is gentle, caring and strong

she can protect and advice you

she remembers all your favorite things—everything about you!

she always cooks your favorite meals

paku loves to relax on the beach together with some wine~

she loves road trips and mini calm adventures

Take her on some!! She deserves it with all she does for you!

and you definitely do!

you guys create lots of fun and heart warming memories together

out in the grass, in the wild life, in forests, in the dessert!

she’s a great cook and a outstanding baker!! 😍😋😋

her signature dish is raspberry pie

ITS SO DELICIOUS

she makes random desserts and pastries for you as a love language

getting up to her breakfast is the best way to start your day possible

you literally can always expect a good meal with her

if you’ve been having a bad day???

at this point a bad day ain’t a bad day no more cuz you already dancing knowing she gon hook you up‼️💃🕺

Bonolenov:

bonolenov is so grateful that you act normal around him

like you have from the start, you never alienated him

before and after he took off his bandages

he can cook but others wouldn’t think so because his tribe’s traditional food is different than the norm

If you tried it and liked it he’d be overjoyed!!

He’d feel much more confident about cooking and do it for you more often

he’d low key question if your from his tribe and wonder if you’d say no to a blood test

(BRO another writing prompt!! Bonolenov finding a reader from his tribe!!)

if you didn’t like it I’m sure you let him down gently since you love him

and he gets it

maybe it was just that one dish though?

he’d want you to try a few more of different types (breakfasts, lunches, dinners, desserts and snacks) before you completely give up on it

if you truly end up not liking it he won’t be angry or anything

it simply wasn’t for you :)

he’s actually a pretty chill dude

Even more so around you

he likes to lazy around a lot and you two might cuddle often

not intentionally but like you just both end up napping together all the time

if you want he’ll teach you his tribes dances and such

as well as traditions

he’ll be impressed if you master the dances fast

(him wondering if your from his tribe again)

Even If you take a bit longer he’s patient :)

he’s open to taking off his bandages around you if your not uncomfortable

if you are that’s fine they’re pretty comfy !

Uvogin:

uvogin is very rough

I mean it’s kinda hard to be gentle at that size-

if he hurts you on accident you’ll get a brief ‘sorry’ but know it’s genuine

don’t worry it doesn’t happen often enough to be concerned

but don’t stand behind him.

you’ve learned your lesson on that….

he squashed your toes once and it was not fun

don’t get me wrong he’s not some monster

he’s just big

so he’s gotta watch out for a bunch of tiny humans you know??

okay put it like this, imagine a grown man/woman is running full speed because they’re late to work and they run into a 3 year old and knock them down

was it intentional?? No. Do they apologize and feel bad?? Yes. Is it a little funny after everything’s okay?? Also Yes.

I will say it is fun to ride on his shoulder and sit in his lap/on his leg

(another prompt could be uvogin with a s/o as big as him..)

it’s fun for him to carry you around

it’s like have a little portable buddy

that idea is kinda wholesome ☹️💗

AND DON’T FORGET HIS BIG SMOOOOOCHIES 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

he loves you 😊

FINALLYYYYYY GOT THIS DONE💥💥

I love the troupe :) the police needs to stop hating on they’re emo band fr 🙄✋

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #anime headcanons #hxh 2011 #hxh anime #hxh #hunterxhunter headcanons #hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x hunter #chrollo headcanons #chrollo lucilfer #gn <3 #x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #nobunaga x reader #nobunaga hxh #feitan portor #feitan headcanons #feitan #phantom troupe #machi komachine #phinks magcub #shalnark ryusei #shizuku hxh #uvogin #bonolenov #kortopi #pakunoda

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

How I long for the time, when your lips would kiss mine

Mihawk x reader.

Title is an excerpt from Blind and Frozen by Beast in Black (again).

This brief fic is the conclusion of a story that started with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart) and continued with (and if nothing brings you back) Surely, I'll roam through life in black.

*****

Three months later.

You smile, more satisfied than greedy, as Vice-Admiral Garp slids a parcel across his desk, close enough to let you take it.

"Thirteen million berries, including the bounty you were owed since last year." he explains as you lift the parcel to stash it in your satchel, without bothering to open it to count the bills neatly stacked inside: you know you can trust the Navy - regarding the money you are due even if not about everything else "Don't take it the wrong way, (name), but I was surprised you had decided to take on this assignment: it is quite a bit below your usual level."

"I am aware. I have been... in poor health, which is why you haven't seen me in a while, and I wanted something simple to make sure I had gotten back to full fitness. From now on I'll be only taking on level three bounties, as usual."

Garp nods, promising to call you when your services will be required. "Got plans for tonight?" he idly adds, leaning back in his chair as he observes you rising from yours.

"I am flattered, Vice-Admiral, but I never mix business and pleasure."

"That was not what I meant. I was simply wondering if there was a reason why a certain man who never spends a minute more than he has to here at our HQ has been sitting in the waiting room for almost two hours twiddling his thumbs."

The mental image makes a smile blossom on your lips; you don't bother trying to deny it, since it would be clearly pointless. "Figuratively, I imagine."

"Probably. Still..."

"Still, thank you for your time. I'll see you soon, Vice-Admiral."

Garp laughs; he seems to find the whole matter highly amusing, which means it is probably a good thing he is discussing it with you and not with the other interested party.

"He was very worried about you; I could feel it in his voice." he suddenly adds, almost as an afterthought.

A simple, inscrutable smile is the only answer he receives, and a moment later you have left his office and are walking down the corridor toward the room Garp mentioned.

Mihawk is alone in the room most of your (less memorable, but still dear to your heart) meetings have taken place in, an half-empty glass of red wine in front of him. He is perfectly still, sitting and apparently lost in his thoughts, but the moment you appear at the door he turns to look at you, relief evident in his gaze... or maybe, just maybe, it is you who are able to perceive it.

"Hello."

He reaches you at the door a moment later, Yoru hanging from on his shoulders, and for a moment you remain face to face, silent as you simply relish being in each other's presence once more. His hand brushes against yours; holding back from hugging him is the hardest thing you have ever had to do.

You happily follow him when Mihawk suggests you go outside to talk, but once you have reached the plaza facing the Marine HQ neither feels the need to actually speak; night is falling, a beautiful sunset painting the sky of a hundred shades of red.

"Has your leg healed?" he asks after a while, as you unhurriedly walk down the pier, the salt-laden air making you feel at home; after all, you were born on an island.

"Perfectly, thank all the Gods. And I took down the pirate i was sent to kill in two days, which means I haven't gotten rusty despite fifteen months of indolence." you happily inform him "I have started with something easy, so as not to overexert myself, but I am tired of sitting around doing nothing; I am ready to get back to business."

"That is good to hear."

You smile, finally taking his hand. "I have missed you." you murmur; it is easy, even pleasant, to utter those words, because no matter how usually strict Mihawk is in judging others, you know you don't need to hide from him, not even the most fragile, most painful part of you "I am so sorry I never called or wrote, I... I needed to be alone. To come to terms with what I had discovered."

"I know, (name). I am not crossed, and..."

"And?"

He sighs; for a moment you simply know he wants to ask whether those three months actually helped, if your heart healed along with your leg or the pain of knowing you will never be a mother, never raise the children you have wanted for nine years, is still part of you, slowly gnawing at your heart like waves gradually wearing away the sturdiest rock. If he did, you are not sure what answer you would give, because you don't have one for yourself. Rationally, you know the passing of time will help, at least a little, and since you have always thought suicide is not the answer you can't help moving on, or at least going on, by inertia if nothing else, and the occasional moment, hour, or even day, of sadness and complete despair doesn't prevent you from cherishing the small and great joys life still throws your way, from the gentle, protective hug of your mother to the pleasure of seeing your bullet, shot from half a mile away, hit the bullseye in the middle of the target's skull... to being finally back in the presence of the man you have never stopped thinking about, even though you had forbidden yourself from using him as an incentive to get back to what you had been. You don't want to be the sort of person who needs her loved one's affection to carry on; you want to be better than that, for yourself first of all and for him as well.

"It is good to see you." Mihawk says after a while; he can't read your mind (or at least, you have no reason to suspect he can; on the other hand, you wouldn't be too surprised...) but you could swear he knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling, or maybe he simply has the gift to say what the person in front of him needs to hear "I have missed you. Again."

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to apologize. I just meant..."

"I know, Mihawk. And... I feel the same."

Silence falls between the two of you, and while it is not uncomfortable or tense, as usual when you are with Mihawk, you perceive you can't simply enjoy it as you let time pass you by. You have already wasted so much of it, fifteen months after your first night together (a night thinking back to which makes you still shiver in such a pleasant way; a night that was the beginning of something marvelous, even if not what you hoped) and three after you had quietly confessed to each other you both wanted to be more than simple acquaintances and drinking buddies. You are still young, and rushing things rarely helps, at least when feelings are concerned; but as you said, you have been idle for so long, and you want, you need, to regain control of your life.

"A new restaurant has just opened not far from here; it is pretty good, I am told." you mention after a moment, suddenly thinking back to Garp's conjectures "Would you let me buy you dinner?"

Mihawk grimaces. "I'd be more than happy to dine with you, but you have to let me take the bill."

"I have earned thirteen million berries twenty minutes ago. I think I can afford a dinner for two." you point out, relieved that scowl was not due to the prospect of spending the evening with you.

"That changes nothing. I would have imagined a noblewoman would have been keen on respecting traditions."

You smile; Gods, you are so happy to see him your heart is singing. "Then..." you begin, lowering your voice to an intimate murmur as you take both of his hands in yours, the distance between your bodies reduced to a breath "What if I let you pay for the dinner, and then I take care of dessert? In my inn room?"

Mihawk sighs, his usual serious demeanor betraying his actual feelings: amusement, and relief, and desire. "I suppose an after-dinner drink wouldn't hurt."

"Great."

He kisses you - on the forehead, since you're still in public; when you raise your eyes to his, you can see him smile. "Let's go, then."

The descending night hides you in its dark mantle as you set off along the pier, your fingers still interwined.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

[glitterinmyveinss]

// say yes to heaven //

johnny knoxville x reader

authors note: Johnny goes by PJ, some things might be innacurate apologies in advance, mentions of homophobic slurs (i can say it)

❥༄ It's a warm july evening, the sunset sky looks like cotton candy, the kids are still out playing, and me and pj are on the steps of his trailer drinking some cold beers. i've known pj ever since me n my mom first moved to Tennesse at age 5. i ponder back on that moment, the memory still fresh in my mind.

❥༄ "y/n! get your boxes from the back of the uhaul girl!" my mother shouted. i sighed and made my way from the empty field to the back of the van we came in while my mother put her belongings inside our new home. a boy around my age with dark chocolate hair, warm brown eyes, and a horrendous haircut came up to me. "are you my new neighbors?" he asked enthusiastically. i nodded shyly. "cool! i'm pj by the way. my trailers right there." i glanced over to where he was pointing. i noticed a brown trailer with white stripes, white steps, and various beer cans and cigarette butts littering the patch of grass in front. i turned back to him and introduced myself back. "my names y/n. my parents divorced so we moved here." "mine are divorced too! wanna be friends?" we've been inseparable ever since.

❥༄ i set down my can with a sigh and put my hands in my hair. i've lived in the same trailer ever since, things never really got better for me and my mom. i started working at the local jcpennys working the beauty department but that's it, and Pjs been working with his dad at his auto repair shop ever since we were 13. pj turned to look at me, his brows furrowed and his eyes fixated on me. "what's troublin' you doll?" i picked my head up with a sad smile. i loved when he called me that. "whens it gonna get better peej?" i let out a dry chuckle. "i mean are we just gonna stay in this town our whole lives? living pay check to pay check?" he huffed and turned away from me. "i don't know y/n...why are you bringing this up?" "because i don't want that to be my life pj. maybe it was good for our parents but...don't you want different?" he took another sip from his can and a long drag from his cigarette and was quiet for a while. "of course i want different but it's not that simple y/n...plus the world needs workers like us and our parents anyway." i couldnt belive what he was saying. it was so out of character for him. he was never one to conform to society despite us growing up in the south where you'd get called a fag for just about anything. but people didn't care when it came to pj. he could be wearing a tutu and still look cool. that's why i didn't understand why he was giving up his future to stay in a town like this when the world had so much more to offer him, to offer us. "you know, i don't get you sometimes pj." i threw my can on the porch and sat up. "when are you gonna wake up y/n?" he shouted at me. i looked at him wint utter confusion painted on my face. he stared back at me with those piercing dark eyes. anytime i looked into them, it was like i was stuck in place, and like the rest of the world was no more, just me and pj. "w-what do you mean?" i spoke. he scoffed at me and continued, still shouting. "do you think it's that easy? that we can just leave this all behind and start a new life like that?" i huffed in frustration and crossed my arms, "that's not what i meant and you know it. i just meant that we both have dreams pj. what about your writing?" he turned away from me and shook his head, his eyes were even darker now due to his mood. i noticed there were imprints on his can due to his grip on it. "what about my writing y/n? you heard my dad." a while ago, pj shared with his dad his dreams of being a writer, and how he wanted to write for this magazine in LA, just to get his foot out the door. his dad didn't take it well at all and said he better get the wrench he asked for because writing won't pay the bills. i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. pj got up to stomp his cigarette out. when he was done he locked eyes with me. he stared at me with such intensity, it made my knees buckle and my stomach flip. maybe it's a good thing he wore shades 99.9% of the time. i wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him, let him know that anyone who doubted him didn't know what they were talking about. that me and him could make it on our own. but we were just friends. and he was even more stubborn drunk than he was sober. he turned to go inside then stopped. "you better get home y/n...it's getting dark." i felt the tears sting the corners of my eyes, like bees in the summer time. this wasn't the first time we fought like this, but it's the first time he didn't invite me in afterwards. usually he'd say something along the lines of sorry, or how he has some left over apple pie he needs help eating, really he would say any excuse. but this time, it was like he wanted nothing to do with me. "you're a coward philip and you know it." i shouted. "you have just as much potential as anyone else in this world to do something great, but you're scared!" he stayed with his back towards me, his fists clenched and his head low. "leave y/n."

❥༄ i stared at him until my vision became blurry with tears, which didn't take long. i've always been emotional. i ran away from him, in the direction of our old elementary. i always went there when things became too much to handle and i just needed somewhere to escape to. once i got there i sat on the old rusty swings that squeaked each time you swayed. i felt like shit. maybe i was too hard on pj. it's just that all i wanted was for me and him to have a good future. maybe the reason why i got so mad was because i imagined our futures would be us as lovers, not best friends. i wish i brought one of those beers before i left. i heard rustling coming from my left side and when i turned to look, i saw pj. i turned away and stared at the ground. it was quiet for a while while he sat on the swing beside me. "i'm sorry doll. i didn't mean to yell at you like that, you know how i get when i drink coors." i began to sob as i spoke, "no peej i'm sorry, i was too hard on you." i put my head in my hands and hid my face. pjs eyes scrunched up as he began laughing at me. "oh come on y/n, no need to bring out the water works. we're all good girl" he moved his hand and began rubbing my back. i sniffled and picked my head up, turning to him with a small smile that he returned.

❥༄ it was like that for a while. just me and pj swaying back and forth, till he spoke up. "you know i'm not a coward y/n..." i faced him and frantically began explaining myself. "i know pj i'm sorry it's j-" he cut me off. "the only reason why i'm not doing what i want is because... i wanna keep you close to me." i stayed staring at him. my eyes wider than usual, and my lips tucked between my teeth. "the magazine i wanna write for is based in LA. that means i would have to move there." i remained quiet. he turned to look at me. "come on y/n say some-" it was probably the alcohol more than me, but out of no where, i decided to kiss him. his lips were warm snd soft, i could still taste the cigarettes and coors on his breath. i felt euphoric and nauseous all at once. i pulled away awkwardly and faced him. "i'm sorry peej, i don't know-" he cupped the side of my face and pulled me in for a second kiss. after a minute we pulled away, but we were stuck staring at eachother, like one would disappear if the other dared to look away. "i'll go with you." i spoke, barely above a whisper. pj scrunched his face in confusion. "pardon?" i rolled my eyes at him. sometimes he was such an airhead. "i'll go with you to LA. just say the word and i'll go pj." he stared at me with a goofy crooked smile and picked me up from the swing. i squealed as he threw me over his shoulder. "let's start packing then. we'll get the first flight out as soon as we're done." even though i was upside down and felt dizzy, i couldn't be happier.

#johnny knoxville #philip john clap #johnny knoxville x reader #philip john clap x reader #jackass #jackass x reader #jackass headcanons #2000s aesthetic #fanfic #trailer park au #steve o #steve o x reader #chris pontius #chris pontius x reader #dave england #ehren danger #wee man #bam margera #preston lacy #dave england x reader

[iphigeniainaulis]

Background paintings in Ikevamp and why they matter

...even if you are not familiar with art.

Warnings: minor spoilers for all routes, though I tried to keep it as vague as possible

Time to talk about background paintings in Ikemen vampire because…why not?

First, let me warn you that the following is nothing but a theory based on some visual resemblance. While it may occur that Ikemen designers wanted to hide a few Easter eggs, it's also fair to mention that sometimes the sky is blue just because it's Sunday morning, and that’s all. 

Nevertheless, one detail may hint at the former statement being true. And this is because there’s a significant difference in how different paintings are shown in the game. 

Some of them are blurry, overdark or too bright. While we can distinguish some unclear silhouettes, the rest is on our imagination.

For example, it seems that the first picture is the natural landscape (probably, sunset in the forest) as well as the second one with the Ionic style columns being placed in the center of a garden. Still, we’re not sure.

But the thing is it doesn’t matter. The amount of details the viewer is given is too small for us to make any art-historical assumptions. Based on these mere images we can figure out neither the artist who painted them nor the narrative. Therefore, these paintings have only a secondary function of background decorations and proof of demonstration of their owner’s wealth. 

On the contrary, there are paintings that we can easily detach because their creators are too famous to be unfamiliar with. But even within this scope of paintings there is a slight differentiation due to the way they are incorporated in the game design. 

Some of them have been revived by the hands of geniuses who once created them. This is the case of Leonardo’s Study of a woman’s head and Study of Hands

 or Vincent’s Sunflower and the Olive trees

While it’s easy to reduce the meaning behind this design decision to simple hype, I think that it also serves as a visual representation of the suitors' character traits. What is the point of redrawing the painting that was already brought to life a long time ago? For Vincent it means years, for Leonardo - centuries. My guess is that for artists like them it's never enough. Life is too beautiful to be captured once and forever. A woman’s face is never a mystery solved. While for many people it’s okay to achieve a goal and forget about it the exact minute they are done, for geniuses like Leonardo and Vincent it’s always different. You must improve. You have to work further. There is always something new an artist’s eye can capture. That’s why they painted it again, again and again. 

Let's move to another group of paintings. Spotting The Starry Night in Theo’s room is not a surprise because we know that, first of all, they’re brothers with Vincent, and, secondly, Theo is an art dealer.

What deserves to be brought into focus is that this work is regarded as the elder Van Gogh’s magnum opus. Sure, you can argue that the real Theo and Vincent thought little of this painting, calling it “a failure”. To which I reply that, again, this is a game for numerous people across the world, including those who are not familiar with art history. For many of us The Starry Night is viewed as one of the most popular art works, a special work, a valuable one. Therefore, by omitting historical accuracy Ikemen writers and designers try to achieve something more contributing to the plot - they try to evoke certain emotions. Putting the art of such great significance in the room of one of the brothers should be a clear indicator of the amount of respect and love the two of them share. Describing the emotional bond between them is mainly the prerogative of writers. But sometimes game design plays no less if not more meaningful role in the process of us as readers getting familiar with characters. The painting here becomes a subtle part of the plot as it highlights certain prerequisites of their relationship and prepares us for what is going to come next.

The latter is especially relevant to Vlad's route. The female portrait in the pureblood’s room is what takes background paintings in Ikevamp on a fundamentally new level - the level of plot-forming core.

Unlike those paintings I mentioned at the beginning, these ones are no longer a substitute for the room decor. Instead, they serve as a device that pushes the plot forward. It accumulates three major points that are relevant to the plot:

It adds the mystery element for triggering our curiosity. The portrait is ‘faceless’, and even though we all see the resemblance in features, there is this ‘if’ element. What if they decided to go with a classical Dracula plot? Eternal vampire loses his lover and waits for her to be reborn? Is this MC? Why can’t he remember her face?

The portrait itself allows us to get for a second into Vlad’s head and understand his feelings towards the mysterious woman. Vlad drawing her portrait is caused by the act of kindness she showed him. His entire motivation is connected to the single painting. She was the one who he wanted to be with. In order to do so, he had to become strong, to accept his tragic loss and move forward. The portrait serves as a silent reminder about what was his goal and why he chose the path he chose. 

It circulates the narrative. At the beginning, MC faces the challenge of being the third one in the relationship with Vlad and his unknown lover. She questions the identity of that unknown counterpart of hers and secretly wants to learn more about her. By revealing the truth of Vlad’s past and their connection, MC figures out who was the woman in the painting which in some way pushes her to find enough strength for making a certain groundbreaking decision. 

Finally, there is the third group of paintings that possess what I call ‘potential meaning’. These paintings maintain the main features of the two previous groups, namely, vague silhouettes combined with a rather clear narrative that somehow increases the possibility of them being more than a decorative object.

Take a look at the two paintings in Vincent’s room. In comparison to all other paintings these ones differ not only in terms of shape but also in terms of color. The lines seem to be more fluid, and the color palette is dominated by ochreous, blue and black which is typical for East Asian classical ink art. By taking a closer look, you can actually see the vague outlines of the sea and shrouded in mist mountains in the background. Personally to me such landscapes together with a specific composition angle remind of Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji which can be a great allusion to Van Gogh’s obsession with Japanese prints and their role in his artistic career. 

The huge painting in Comte’s living room has been haunting me for years, I shall admit. It portrays a marine landscape with a single boat chasing the wild waters in the dark or right before the sunrise. When talking about marine art, the first person that comes to my mind is Ivan Aivazovsky. Yet, it is evident that Aivazovsky’s style was pure romanticism with heavy realistic elements, whereas this painting looks like it's more about light and colores rather than clear and precise lines. And also this sun, this strange orange sun..that can be spotted only in Claude Monet's Impression. Sunrise. 

The mansion’s copy is a darker mirrow image of the original work. Nobody knows why Comte chose this painting for the mansion, but isn’t it a bit of irony that the painting that praises France, the country that suffered from the war with Prussia and was on its way to revitalisation, is located in the house that is about to face the battle between the lesser vampires and their haunters or rather the figurative war of two different morals (we are yet to know about it, though)?

Another version is that the painting serves as a metaphoric description of the character. In various routes MC mentions how Comte reminds her of the sun that made manifest, and everything supports this claim to be true, from his golden eyes and hair, to the brightness of the room and..paintings that symbolize the master of the mansion.

Finally, I wouldn't forget about the massive backlash Impressionists had to face at the early stage of the movement’s existence. It was only until the 5th Impressionist exhibition in 1880 that the artists finally got praised by critics. Just a bit more than 10 years before the MC’s appearance. However, we know that the creation of the mansion had taken place before this event. So, my point is that probably Monet’s painting was purchased by the greater vampire during the times when Impressionists were still harshly criticized by the Salon. And if so, the display of the painting that represents the les misérables of the art world speaks so much volume about Comte’s character and devotion to fulfill what he perceives as his noblesse oblige - to support those in need, to help them reveal their talent no matter what social class they belong to. 

The game room’s central painting is another amusing detail as it’s completely out of mood. Playing cards, watching chess games or taking any other light leisure activity with a glass of brandy in your hand, you rarely expect to raze your gaze from the table only to stare at the image of ruins. Yet, this is what we get here - a typical capriccio painting like those of Alessandro Salucci and Leonardo Coccorante.

Capriccio artists dared to do something new in the history of art - they put real archeological signs into fantasy surroundings, sometimes from the same time period that the artists lived in. To an extent, they brought the ancient past and allowed it to live in the future, which is not a bad allusion to the original purpose of the mansion’s creation.  

And here is what we can spot in Shakespeare’s room. At first, I didn't think much about this painting in Will’s bedroom but something felt odd. And then I understood. 

You see, there’s this famous Vincent’s work named Cafe Terrace at Night. The painting is created from the north eastern corner that allows us to see the starry night without facing an obstacle in the form of the cafe's roof. 

But this is how the modern cafe looks from a different perspective. Yellow elongated building with two wide niches that serve both as windows and entrance. 

Do you see it, right? RIGHT?

I headcanon that Vincent was so eager to spoil his new friend with a present that he decided to redraw his favorite work and  give it to the bard. But being an empathetic and observant one, Vincent immediately figured out Will’s admiration of everything unique and rare, so he decided to create a completely new version of his own painting instead of just redrawing it from the same angle as he did with sunflowers. 

Aaand this is what we get in the living room. Random at first sight, the composition of various unrelated pictures actually makes sense. The most evident one is, of course, the image of theater curtains. What else should we expect to see in the manor of the great Bard of Avon? The same curtains, by the way, appear in almost every scene where MC and her suitor are invited to Shakespeare’s play.

Just a small detail, but I think this is one of those rare occasions when we can actually name the place Ikemen writers took inspiration from (apart from, of course, Louvre and the University of Paris). What helps us here is the curtains over which we spot golden metal lambrequin with a cartouche that imitates the image of the sun.

Such a prolonged lambrequin with the sun image (in honor of Louis XIV, the Sun King and also the father of the Paris Opera) in the center actually exists only in one Parisian theater - Opera Garnier, where in 1888 Shakespeare’s  Roméo et Juliette was staged.

Just to make sure, look at the curtains in some of the most popular theaters that existed during the historical period in Ikevamp -  Théâtre du Châtelet or the Opéra-Comique. You won't find a similar one.

Two last possible Easter eggs may be related to the two historical objects that existed during Shakespear’s era. The first one is still connected to the curtains for as you see, there were rumors (modern archeological findings prove them to be true) that the first venue of Shakespeare’s plays was called ‘the Curtain Theatre’.

And the second thing I want to point at is two images of the chair. Honestly, I highly doubt that a person like Will who has an almost narcissistic obsession with expensive staff would put a painting of such low value in his private apartment. But I can understand it, if this is not an image of  some random piece of furniture but the well-known Shakespeare’s Courting Chair, wherein, according to William Henry, ‘the bard was used to sit, during his courtship, with his Anne upon his knee’. 

Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much. Thank you for reading!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #cybird #ikemen series #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp theo #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen le comte #ikemen leonardo #ikemen theo #ikemen vincent #ikemen shakespeare #ikemen vlad

[filmtv2022]

One More Ride (18+ MDNI)

All Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Reader 

Summary: Rhett & Y/N spend their last night in Wabang together. Pushing away the weight of the world by falling into one another's arms. 

Warnings: SMUT (this is probably the filthiest thing I've written so far) + language 

A/N: I've had the general idea for this story brewing for a while. This story is a one-shot standalone that isn't connected to my series "By Your Side", but if you want more Rhett content... might I suggest that you go read that too! Enjoy & I apologize for any mistakes! 

Bright hues of orange and pink washed over the wispy clouds high in the sky above the pasture. The mountains and far-off forest sat dark on the horizon. An evening breeze picked up as the sun continued to sink, throwing goosebumps over your socked feet and bare arms. It would have been easy to go and grab a hoodie from the cab of the old pickup, but you didn’t want to miss any of the sunset. Digging your toes underneath the pile of blankets that covered the bed of the truck, you leaned back, letting the warmth of Rhett’s solid frame behind you soak in your skin. 

Night was quickly settling over the wild landscape, the Abbott house was barely more than a black spot in the distance. The quiet moment stretched on as you memorized the way the light painted the sky, creating a glittering mosaic of colors. The saturation changed the longer you watched. The bright oranges and pinks faded into dusky blues and purples, which you knew would eventually morph into inky blackness. Sitting here, the reality of what was coming felt heavy in the air. Change was coming, and if tradition held, the Abbott family did poorly with accepting that the world continued to turn, paving the way for the future. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, reveling in the woodsy musk of Rhett’s cologne. His lips pressed a constant kiss to your hair as his hands held firmly to him. An edge of anxiety was obvious in the way he kept you close. One hand gripped tightly onto your waist, while the other drew absent-minded patterns over your thigh. Tracing over the bumps and frays of your jeans before following the line of the seams, picking at the loose threads. 

“You don’t have to do this you know? You don’t have to ride tomorrow. We can leave tonight,” Turning your head to look up at him, you watched his jaw clench, “You just say the word, Rhett, and we’re gone.” 

Looking down at you, his blue eyes ran dark in the dusty light, “You know it’s not that simple.” 

“I know,” reaching up to hold his cheek, you pleaded with him to stay with you, to not look away, “but I also know that the only person in that house right now that gives a shit about you is Amy. And she already knows what's going to happen or has guessed as much anyway. You don’t owe them shit, Rhett.” 

“They’re family.” A pained look furrowed his brow. 

Shifting further, you settled yourself in his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Your face now sat even with Rhett’s, as your hands came up to hold his face, his stubble scrapped lightly at your palms. Scanning over his features, you caught the way his anxiety had settled between his brows, the lines growing deeper the longer he sat with the knowledge of what was to come & the guilt of knowing he was finally going to escape. 

“Yeah, they’re family, and that doesn’t change when you drive away from this town. They will always be here, waiting for you, Rhett. But that’s the thing, they’ll always be here. Do you remember what you said? What you've promised me every year since we were eleven?”

“I don’t remember…”

“Bullshit, you remember. Tell me what you said.” 

Locking eyes with you, he spoke the words in a whisper, “I said that I'd get out, that I’d get both of us out.” 

“That’s right, and you know what, it’s been long enough. It’s time. Nothing is holding us here, and If we don’t leave now… I don’t know if we ever will. This place is killing you, Rhett, and I’ll be damned if I let you stay here to die.” pressing your forehead into his, your soft breath fell over his face, “Be selfish for once in your fuckin’g life… ‘cause I can’t do this without you.” 

“One more ride, that’s all that I’m askin’ for. Then we’re out.” 

“For you this time, one more for you. Promise me that.”

“Promise.” Holding you close by the hips, his hand slid up the length of your back, burying itself in your hair so that he could press a gentle kiss on your lips.

The glow of the sunset cast his face in shadows as the gusts of air fluttered the loose pieces of hair around his ears. The errant strands, tickled the delicate skin along your temple, making you smile. Gingerly, you reached out and tucked them back into place. You weren’t ready to relinquish the feeling of him. Trailing your fingertips down the side of his neck, you rested your palms on his chest. Rhett used his strength to haul you even closer, as if he needed to pull you inside of himself, your chest flush with his as he slid a hand down your spine. His wide hands came to rest on your ass. Raking your hands over his sides, a shiver ran over his body at the feeling of your touch. The beer he’d been drinking sat sweetly on his breath as your lips brushed together. 

Desperation for you filled his every move, you were the answer to every question that ran unchecked through his mind. His mouth found your neck, nipping at the tender flesh and leaving marks in the wake. Pushing up the hem of your shirt, he shifted beneath you, slotting a thigh between your own. Using his strength, he forced your weight down. Your thoughts swam at the pressure of him holding you in place on top of him, your hips moving of their own accord. A groan fell from his lips as your head fell back in pleasure. 

Sinking his fingers into the sliver of skin that sat exposed between the hem of your shirt and your jeans, a shaky breath rattled from his lungs, “Fuck.”

“Rhett.” His name was nearly a whine as you called for him.

“I know, baby.” 

Helping you move, a low groan rumbled from his chest as you continued to brush up against him. Each movement sent shock waves through his body. Rhett’s hands wandered, skimming over your chest before sinking back down. Toying with the button on your jeans, but leaving it closed, he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband. His callouses were rough against, you as he continued to move. Your lips found his neck as he ghosted over your core, the pressure just enough to leave you wanting more. Taking him by the wrist, you held him in place, encouraging him to continue and silently begging for more. The rapid rise and fall of your chest spurred him on, his nerves alight with anticipation. 

A whimper tumbled from you as Rhett removed his hand from your hold, but the disappointment was short-lived. With his eyes locked onto you, Rhett's fingers fumbled with the button on your waistband. Popping it open, he wasted no time dipping his fingers below the fabric. 

Your slick coated his fingers, “So fuckin’ wet. This all for me, Darlin’?”

“Yes, Rhett, all for you.” The touch was nearly too much and yet not enough. 

A wanton moan ripped from you as he continued to bring you closer to the edge. Losing his self-control, Rhett rather hastily turned you over. Settling his weight between your legs, and rolling his hips into yours, earning a heady groan from you. The ridges of the truck bed pressed sharply into your back even through the layers of blankets, but that was so far from your mind. The only thing that mattered was him.

Rhett’s hands once again slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your bra. Mouthing at the top of your breasts, his patience for the garment in his way lasted only so long. His hand slipped behind your back, grasping for the clasp, and finding it. Moving just enough to free it from your body, he tossed it to the side before tugging your shirt the rest of the way off. You reached for the hem of his t-shirt, and he realized what you wanted, and quickly got rid of it 

With both your tops dropped somewhere nearby, he dipped back down to capture your mouth, the kiss hungry and wild. Accepting everything that he gave, your back arched as he worshipped every inch of your body, his lips, and fingers tracing over the contours of your curves. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful” he whispered as he trailed down the expanse of your stomach with featherlight kisses. 

Moving lower, he gripped at your still-covered thighs, pressing kisses over your hips before turning his attention to your core. Carefully, he pushed your legs further apart, his thumb running lightly over where you needed him most, his lips following close behind, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

“Don’t be a goddamn tease, Rhett Abbott” Twining your fingers through his hair, you tugged at the strands trying to guide him in the right direction. 

A low huff of laughter rumbled through his chest, “Getting impatient aren’t ya?.” 

Sitting up, he peeled your jeans from your body, his hands raking over the newly exposed skin. The heat flowing through your veins left you reeling. Adjusting your position so that you were able to look into his eyes, you brushed your lips over his as you spoke, “Yeah, I am. Are you gonna do something about it… or should I take care of myself?” 

Your hand smoothed over your underwear, pushing it aside, and you dipped your fingers beneath drawing a gasp from yourself. You stayed focused on him, daring him to make the next move. A challenge he happily accepted. 

“Callin’ me a tease… jesus christ woman" Stripping off his own jeans and underwear, as quickly as he could, his boots also discarded, he wasted no time returning to you.

Crashing against, you, his sure touch replaced your own. Panting into his mouth, you gave yourself over completely to him. Moving in gentle strokes and circles with his fingers, he worked you closer and closer to the edge. Feeling your body stiffen, and your breaths turn into erratic heaves, he continued to rile you up. 

“Fuck, Rhett!”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” 

“I want- I need to-” You couldn't finish your thought, but he knew very well what you were asking for, he could feel how close you were. 

“After what you said earlier… you sure you deserve it?” he relished the scent of the whiskey on your breath from earlier as he swiped over your bottom lip, nipping lightly, before tasting you. 

Ghosting over your entrance, he moved at a languid pace, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to tip you over. 

“Don’t make me beg, Rhett.” Your hand that had been grasping at his ass, slipped between you two, finding him aching and waiting for your touch. Wrapping your fingers around him, you stroked him roughly, earning a deep groan.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you beg. Just let me enjoy this for a minute, darlin’” Smirking, he pushed your hips down into the blankets as he kissed down the column of your neck. 

He paid close attention to the way your breath hitched as he expertly found your most sensitive areas. Working his way down your frame, he held you in place as you writhed under his touch. Rhett’s warm breath, breezed over your core, causing you to clench in anticipation. His lips found your clit as his fingers curled inside, ripping a needy moan from you as he hummed against your body. Unable to stay still, you rolled your hips up to meet him, begging him for more. Listening to your silent pleas, his tongue worked in steady strokes, pulling you further from reality. Hanging on by a thread, you gasped in shock at the sudden loss of his touch. 

“What the fuck-” 

“I want to feel you around me when you come.” 

Kissing you deeply, he pressed into you in one fluid motion. Both of you let go of desperate moans at the feeling of having one another so close. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he waited for you to give him permission to continue. 

“You all right?”

“I need you to move, Rhett.” 

“Good girl. You feel so fuckin’ perfect... like you were made for me.” 

“Holy shit” Digging your fingers into this hair and back, you trembled at the feeling of him, your nails sinking into his skin. 

The pair of you were insatiable. You rolled your hips in time with him, pulling delicious moans from each other with every thrust. Reaching up, Rhett laced his finger with yours, holding your hand up by your head as he continued to move. His pace faltered as he felt himself drawing closer to his own release. Pleasure consumed the pair of you heart and soul. 

“I’m close.” his voice was airy and light as he whispered his confession.

Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, you pulled him closer, “Let go, Rhett. I’ve got you.”

Weak moans left your lips as he quickened his pace, chasing his climax. Reaching between you, his fingers once again found your clit, “Come with me, Y/N.” 

Snapping his hips in time with his touches, he felt you clench around him as you cried out. You climax washing over you in waves of lightning, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Feeling you go, Rhett was right behind. With one final thrust, you felt him fall over the edge, joining you with his release. Swallowing his sharp exhales and groans, you kissed him deeply as he came. 

Slowing down, Rhett stayed buried inside of you as he shifted so that you were lying on top of him. His body was so spent that he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to keep from collapsing on top of you if he’d stayed how you were before. Silence fell over the two of you as your lungs returned to normal, your muscles warm and pliable as you soaked in the feeling of each other. Tugging the edge of a blanket over the top of you both, Rhett ran his finger down the length of your back. The feeling of your skin soothing away the last remnants of worry. Lost in each other’s arms, it was easy to forget every fear that threatened to tear the two of you apart. Here, like this, the future seemed limitless.

“I love you, Y/N. And we’re getting out of here, just like I promised.” 

“I love you too, Rhett.” 

#rhett abbott x reader #lewis pullman #rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x female reader

[omgahgase]

modern au were obi-wan is the bob ross of the PBS channel and cody tunes in for every episode

i saw a video of bob ross doing his thing on tiktok and my mind immediately conjured up obi-wan as bob ross, thus leading to cody developing a lil super fucking big crush on the pretty painter with a nice voice. i don't really know where i was going with this, but i had fun while doing it, and isn't that the whole point? the fic's under the cut, i hope you enjoy!

it started off as him dabbling in the arts, wanting to learn how to paint landscapes bc, as a nature photographer, he can capture nature's beauty, but he just can't paint it from his mind's eye.

he heard from his brothers about a tv show starring a guy who paints beautifully in simple and easy instructions so cody—thinking it's not possible to fuck it up if even his most creatively challenged kin can do it—can do it as well.

only, cody did fuck up and it's bc the guy who greeted him with a friendly, "hello there," and said that they're going to paint today is super fucking pretty and has the gentlest, most relaxing voice cody has ever heard. he's wearing a simple button up and slacks, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his eyes—dear god his eyes. they're a stunning light blue but under different lighting they shift from green to grey to—is that a mole? cody squints, leans in real close to the tv screen, and he groans. this guy has a beauty mark to the right of his nose, a little ways below his eye and it's so fucking endearing. he even has an accent, one cody can't decipher when his gaze is trained on the painter's—obi-wan's, his mind helpfully remembers—long, elegant fingers. hold a brush, a knife, gesturing in quick, stuttery movements, anything his hands do, cody's eyes follow relentlessly. obi-wan is saying something about happy clouds and reassuring his audience that even if they mess up, it's okay bc it's their world that they're creating so mistakes are happy little accidents and, suddenly, cody doesn't care about his blank canvas. all he wants to do is watch this pretty man with the velvet soft voice speak to him and say that life has its ups and downs but it's still a beautiful thing that cody should be happy to take part in.

and cody is happy, very happy, actually, bc with his new found motivation to watch every single episode, he learns how to paint. he learns newfound patience for himself that he thought he mastered after raising so many of his brothers. hell, he even develops a celebrity crush on obi-wan bc no one has ever spoken to him like that and, despite it being through a screen, cody feels as if he's painting with obi-wan for real, as if he's right next to cody, guiding him through creating trees and oceans out of nothing.

though, after so many weeks of watching, cody's crush stays as stand-still as ever when the person you long to know on a personal level doesn't even know you exist.

cody guesses that's why he books a little trip to the mountains, to take a break from the screen and from painting to go back to his first passion of photography. cody hikes through the shrubbery and finds himself wandering on a cliff looking out across the deep, green valley of forestry and rivers, content to snap as many photos as his camera's memory allows. he breaths in the fresh, crisp air and feels at home amongst the chirping birds, the sounds of shifting earth and rushing water, and for the first time in months, cody allows himself to forget about the pretty painter who so carefully carved himself a place in cody's mind.

(and in cody's heart, but he's not ready to admit how far his crush has gone.)

it's sunset when cody starts descending down the mountain trail and sees an open area overlooking the west. his photo-hungry brain tells him to capture one more picture of the sun's rays, the oranges, reds, and yellows blending into deep, dark purples and blues. he quickly jumps off the trail and makes his way to the opening through the trees, but stops short when he notices a painter, engrossed in his art and the beauty of the sun setting behind a curtain of mountains, facing the spectacle at the perfect angle—the same angle cody was hoping to stand in.

it's fine, though, because after carefully stepping around the painter because cody knows on a deep, personal level how frustrating it is to be interrupted in the middle of your craft, he finds a spot that's just as good as the one he wanted. cody gets his camera out and takes the obligatory photos his brain is telling him to take. After a couple dozen, he feels satisfied with the landscape's outcome, but a louder, more intuitive-feeling voice is saying to snap a photo of the painter.

cody doesn't photograph people, he found that he'd rather take his skills to the outdoors where he feels more comfortable, but now he has a deep, almost painfully knowing need to take at least one picture of the man standing with his back to cody. so cody does. he moves quietly, swiftly hopping over fallen twigs as to not step on one and spook the painter (and ultimately rat himself out in the creepiest way possible). cody has a stunning view of the canvas and it's breathtakingly likelihood of the setting sun and blooming night sky, but the man's face is covered by the collar of his jacket and the beanie sitting low on his head. cody feels a pang of disappointment at not being able capture the man's side profile, but the sun is quickly fading and he's in a race against time to still have enough lightning to showcase the canvas, so he snaps a photo.

then that photo turns into two, then three, and by the fourth one, cody's camera is bursting with shutter sounds that echo across the clearing. but the painter still hasn't noticed him. cody, thanking whoever's looking down on him, is eternally grateful because with how he's crouched behind a tree and pointing his camera directly at him, the painter wouldn't hesitate to call authorities on him at first glance.

with his need quelled, cody decides on one more photo for the road when a merciless gust of wind rips past both of them. the painter's hat floats off his head and he immediately drops his brush to reach for it, collar lowered and face fully exposed in cody's direction and—

"no fucking way," cody whispers.

click!

the fly-away beanie hits cody right in the face and over his camera lens, but he got it. he took a photo of the painter who, in just the few seconds his face was unobstructed, struck a chord of familiarity deep in cody's chest because he looks exactly like the reason why cody decided to escape into the mountains.

frantically, cody ignores the "hey!" called out to him in favor of scrambling behind his hiding place and desperately scrolling through his photos for the last one taken. he mentally curses himself for not changing the default settings and starting from his most recent photo as he fingers through the hundreds of previous ones he took. cody is almost to the bottom with the tiniest sliver of hope a frenzied, erratic thing rattling around in his chest when he hears footsteps getting closer.

he's there, he's almost there, just a little further down and he'll see if it's really—his camera dies. right in his hands.

cody lets out a frustrated, low guttural groan at his luck because of course this happens. he wouldn't have expected anything less when it comes to him because only cody can develop a crush on a man who doesn't know he exists then creepily stalk someone who looks scarily similar to said obtainable man. who's cody kidding? he's hallucinating, for christ's sake. he would've followed an apparition off a cliff if it looked like obi-wan and cody isn't afraid to admit that now.

the footsteps grow in volume until a pair of heavy hiking boots stand right in front of cody, most likely attached to a pair of legs that'll lead up to a man who's seconds away from calling the police.

"excuse me?" he says.

"yeah, yeah," cody waves him off, dejected and uncaring of how rude he might sound. he stands on shaky legs and shoulders his camera, eyes unable to move from his feet. he unclenches the beanie in his hand and dusts off pieces of leaves imbedded in the knitting. "Sorry about that, i'll delete the photos if you want. i know i didn't get your permission and it's super fucking creepy of me to just take photos of you—"

"on the contrary," the man says, "if you were taking photos of me, i'd very much like to see them.

the man has such a familiar accent that it has cody's head shooting straight up because there's no fucking way.

"hello there," obi-wan greets, grinning that sweet, gentle smile he wears during every episode of his show.

"uh—um. h-hi." god, could cody sound anymore stupider?

obi-wan's smile broadens and isn't that something? being on the receiving end of something cody's ever seen through a screen? cody feels like he just ascended.

"would you mind sharing them?" obi-wan asks, pointing to cody's camera. "it's not every day i allow someone to take candids of me, especially by someone as handsome as yourself."

okay, cody must've hit his head on something because the guy he's been crushing for months did not just call him handsome. there's just no fucking way.

"uh—i, um," cody clears his throat and manages not to choke on the embarrassed little stutter of his voice, then says with barely any mind, "yes, i'd like that."

if the sun were to burn out in that instant, then cody believes that the unrestricted smile obi-wan gives him could take it's place. it's bright and so genuine for someone he doesn't know let alone just met, and cody thinks he's undeserving of such a thing.

"wonderful. if you'd let me just pack up my things, then we can walk back together."

"i can help!" cody so foolishly blurts. he flushes, cheeks warming under obi-wan's gaze and...and he really doesn't care anymore. Because obi-wan's laughing and the corners of his eyes are crinkling in that cute way he laughs at himself when he makes a mistake on his canvas, and cody thinks this is the most mortified he's ever felt. but dear god is it worth it. he'll embarrass himself to hell and back if it means obi-wan can giggle like that again.

obi-wan takes him up on his offer and that's how cody finds himself standing stiffly next to him, holding open a briefcase as obi-wan carefully places each tube of paint back into it's labeled home. he handles his equipment with grace, the same way cody handles his cameras, and it strikes it then: that he's actually here. obi-wan is in front of him, talking about his reasonings for trekking out this far from his studio and why he's so particular about the set up of his paint, a fact cody knows from his hours of sitting in front of a screen with or without paint and a canvas, and he's speaking to cody in that soft, gentle tone of his that cody—cody can't make a fool of himself anymore than before, so what's there to lose?

"i watch your show," cody says all in a single breath. obi-wan stops talking, a bit startled from cody's outburst, and raises a curious, bushy eyebrow.

"do you now?"

cody nods because it's the only thing his body knows how to do while under the undivided attention of a pretty man.

"yes, all the time. i-i've seen every episode. and i've even thought of sending in a letter and photo of my paintings but i just—i never did."

obi-wan hums, inquisitive, the sound warming something gentle behind cody's ribs. "why is that?"

cody shrugs. he's not about to admit that if he did then he'd be acknowledging how permeant obi-wan's become in his life, a deeply-rooted thing that cody thinks about every hour of every day and has never felt such strong feelings for despite never meeting in person.

that is, until now.

"didn't get around to it," he says instead. obi-wan takes that as an acceptable answer, though, because as soon as it fully sinks in, he's leveling cody with a hopeful stare so promising that the warmth in cody's chest implodes, nearly caving him from the inside out.

"well, i'd love to see those too, if you'd let me." obi-wan swipes the tip of his tongue across his lower lip in an unsure fidget—an action that cody's eyes greedily devour because how could he not?—then he's speaking with certainty that cody only wishes he could have. "i'm not sure why we're meeting like this, nor do i think it's just a coincidence that my hat decided to leave my head and assault you like that." they share a laugh, a private, little thing that cody's going to treasure forever. "but i feel like—like something is telling me to not let you go."

cody eagerly nods along because he knows. he's felt that exact same stomach-swooping tug the moment obi-wan appeared on his screen with a blank canvas and an open smile, happy to meet someone he can't even see.

"same here," cody agrees. "i feel it too, like there's something leading me to you. a—a sort of—"

"force," obi-wan breathes, eyes shining in the dimming light of the setting sun. "yes, exactly that. i'd like to further understand that feeling, why it's there and what not. and," obi-wan takes the case from cody and steps closer to him, until there's barely a foot's length of space between them. standing this close, with obi-wan looking directly into cody's eyes, cody can see that obi-wan's taller than him by a few inches at most. cody would've never learned that though a screen.

"i'd like to get to know you, too," obi-wan says, voice a velvet soft litany in cody's ears. "if you'd let me that is," he adds as an afterthought as if cody would say no.

as if cody would say anything other than yes.

"i'd like that." he smiles, the corners of his lips stretching side across his face, a mirror imitation of obi-wan's.

the sun has fully descended behind the west mountains by the time cody and obi-wan are finished, everything packed up in the bag that hangs from obi-wan's shoulders. the ground lights on the trail illuminate the path back to the main road and they follow it engaged in conversation about cody's work and obi-wan's humble beginnings, for the tv show and even before his decision to become an artist.

"i wanted to be a singer," he confesses, shyly looking down at his boots as if they're more interesting than the disbelieving look on cody's face.

"you can sing?" obi-wan nods, a cute, little shake of his head and cody's heart soars. "i can play the guitar. and i sing a little, too."

"really?" it's obi-wan's turn to look at him, eager and nothing short of extraordinary. "amazing. then you can serenade me as i paint elaborate landscapes dedicated to your likeliness."

that pulls a laugh from cody, the sound a joyous echo in the forests space. "don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. serenading is third date material," he says, then promptly shuts his mouth. maybe cody can get stupider because what the actual fuck? he chances a glance at obi-wan to make sure he hasn't disrupted the casual thing they have conspiring between them, but his expression in unreadable in the dark of the forest.

in that next second, they step back onto the main road and underneath a streetlamp shining down on a large map that reads 'YOU ARE HERE' with a bright, red arrow pointing at their location. in the light, cody can see obi-wans pondering stare, the furrow of his brows and hand under his chin. cody closes his eyes, sure he messed up a good thing before it even started.

"would dinner tomorrow night at my hotel count as our first, then?" obi-wan asks, timbre high and expectant.

cody releases the shaky breath that was caught in his lungs, relieved. then, because he's feeling bold and stupid and so revved up on everything obi-wan, he says, "no, that would count as our second. splitting a shake and some fries at that mcdonald's down the road can count as our first, though."

obi-wan starts to grin that happy pull of his lips cody's seen as many times as he can count on his tv and he wonders how many dates it'll take to kiss a different sort of happiness to obi-wan's mouth.

"sharing milkshakes already, are we? how brave. we've already evolved so far into our relationship and i don't even know your name."

cody mentally berates himself because, yeah. with all the excitement and emotions running him through the ground, he forgot the most important thing when trying to shoot your shot with the pretty painter: his goddamn name.

"i'm cody. cody fett," he introduces, hopefully sounding cooler than he really is when he's pushing 35 and desperately pining over someone he's met just shy of ten minutes ago. though, cody's known obi-wan for months now, so maybe he's not a total loser. cody shifts his camera strap more securely over his shoulder then extends his right hand. "it's a pleasure to meet you. and you are?"

obi-wan giggles and no matter how many times cody hears it from now and how ever long he's able to, he's sure he'll never get used the gentle chime of it, how it's directed to and for him alone.

"hello there, i'm obi-wan kenobi." obi-wan takes his hand in a firm grip and cody swears sparks fly from their joined palms. "and, i'd love to join you for a milkshake. chocolate flavored, please."

that catches cody off guard. "chocolate? i would've figured you'd be more of a vanilla type of guy."

obi-wan releases his hand but holds onto cody's fingers, letting them hook over each other in the shared space between them. "you have a lot to learn, my dear. i have many secrets that people don't know about me."

cody sucks in an optimistic breath, eager to learn every single one.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #after mcdonald's they head back to obi-wan's hotel where they spend the next couple hours just talking #they both fall asleep on the couch and by morning cody has a terrible kink in his neck but he's also in love so there's that #obi-wan isn't too far off either bc he wakes up with a handsome's arms wrapped around him and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven #star wars #star wars the clone wars #omgahgase writes

[elysianeclipxe]

sunrise sights | genshin impact kazuha

genre/au: fluff, boyfriend!kazuha // warnings: nothing // wc: 0.5k

summary: you never knew the sun could be so pretty

sidenote: the burnout is real but i'm trying my best, still have an intense love for kazuha tho, he's just wow. also this like, tested my literature and poetic soul wth

Be it sunrise or sunset you never really paid attention to it. To you, the sun was just the sun. Nothing really important as all it did was bring in sunshine and heat, but that thought changed after he dragged you to see the sunrise one day.

It was weird at first, waking up so early just to watch a sunrise, plus it didn't help that your precious sleep was cut short. Still, you woke up and let yourself be dragged to who knows where by Kazuha. You kept on telling yourself to just humour him as it will end sooner if you do so. And you did. To this day, you are so glad you humoured him.

That day you saw a sunrise, was the day you saw the prettiest sunrise in the world admired by the prettiest person of your world.

"Do you see it now? How beautiful the scenery is as the sunrise shines on the sea. It truly is a wonderful sight to behold." He closes his eyes and breathes in the fresh air. You watch his body slowly relax and fall into ease, a smile crawling onto your face.

"It really is. This is.. wow!" You focus your sight back to the colours that paint the sky in the early morning. The mood right now is something you've never experienced before. It feels so peaceful and freeing, like it's just the two of you awake and living life in this world. No other presence detected, nothing else mattering. So you allow yourself to relax in his arms that he wrapped around you. "I want us to just admire this forever. Can we just stay here for the rest of the day?"

He lets out a light laugh at your words and shakes his head in amusement. "As much as I want to, we cannot. The sunrise only lasts for a moment and we have other things to attend to." He turns his head and seeing your frown he tells you something.

"We can always come back later for the sunset. Then we will wake up early once again tomorrow, awaiting the next sunrise." He presses a kiss on the crown of your head before continuing. "I guess that is the wonder of this world. How we are so busy with our own intricate things and yet, something as simple as a sunrise or sunset can distract us so easily, even for just a moment. It is so naturally beautiful that it makes you crave for a new day just to see it again."

His words are deep but so easy to understand. It gave you a new view of the sun. How it didn't just give sunshine and heat; how it also gave you a moment's peace and appreciation towards the beauty of life. "I want tomorrow to come so bad now!" You laugh.

"Patience, my love. Let the hours pass by first and when the sun rises tomorrow, we will be here again, waiting to see it." Oh how you love the sun. Not only is it wonderful to admire when it rises or sets, but it also gets you to admire how he looks in it. The sun really does him justice in this light.

Comment, likes, and reblogs are appreciated <3

© elysianeclipxe. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my content onto other platforms.

#astrid writes🌸 #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact imagines #kazuha fluff #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

[froottalks]

Unveiling Hearts - Kara Danvers x fem!reader

[summary: kara and reader getting ready for their date and going out and having fun, and they talk and share things about each other, kara tells reader about her life on krypton before it was destroyed and how coming to midvale was a huge change and about her life with eliza and alex. Later some soft cheesy romantic fluff scene and kara and reader share a kiss.]

Masterlist

{Part 1} {Part 2}

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, Kara found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror, nervously fiddling with the necklace she had chosen for the evening. Tonight was the night she had been waiting for—a chance to spend time with Dr. (Y/n) (L/n) outside the walls of the DEO.

She had opted for a simple yet elegant outfit, a reflection of her true self rather than her Supergirl persona. The soft blue dress she wore matched her eyes, and she couldn't help but smile at her reflection, her heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

Meanwhile, across town, (Y/n) stood before her own mirror, contemplating her outfit choice.

In the days that had followed, Kara's revelation felt like a whirlwind for (Y/n). Her interactions with Supergirl—now known as Kara Danvers—had taken on a new layer of meaning. The walls between them had crumbled, revealing the vulnerability that lay beneath the heroic facade.

Her heart raced with a different kind of anticipation. Kara, or rather Supergirl, had asked her out—a fact that still felt like a delightful dream. Eventually, she settled on a casual yet stylish outfit—a reflection of her personality. With a confident smile, she adjusted her attire and added a touch of lip gloss.

The sun began to set, and the city was bathed in hues of gold and amber. Kara stood outside (Y/n)'s apartment building, her heart racing with anticipation. She had taken the time to prepare a bouquet of daisies—a symbol of new beginnings—and held them tightly in her hand.

Kara raised her hand and tapped the door lightly thrice, trying hard not to break the door using her super strength in her excitement.

The knock on her door startled (Y/n), and she took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before opening it. There stood Kara, looking even more stunning in person, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"Wow, you look amazing," Kara said, her blue eyes sparkling at the sight before her as (Y/n) opened the door, her smile lighting up the corridor. She looked stunning, her outfit exuding confidence and warmth.

(Y/n)'s cheeks flushed, her heart fluttering at the compliment. "Thank you, you look gorgeous too Kara."

Kara held out the flowers in her hand, her cheeks slightly pink as she offered (Y/n) the bouquet. "These are for you."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise, her smile growing as she accepted the flowers. "Thank you, Kara. They're beautiful."

Kara's smile matched the warmth of the sunset outside. "You're welcome (Y/n). Shall we?"

Kara extended her arm, and (Y/n) took it with a smile. They walked down the dimly lit streets, the evening air was cool and crisp, a perfect backdrop for their date. They strolled through the city streets, their steps easy and comfortable, their conversation flowing effortlessly, ranging from light-hearted banter to the things the liked and enjoyed, as they discussed their favorite books, movies, and shared interests. Kara's infectious laughter filled the air, and (Y/n) found herself captivated by the woman beside her.

As they settled into a cozy coffee shop, the atmosphere became more intimate. They delved into deeper conversations, sharing stories from their pasts. Kara opened up about her life on Krypton before its destruction— painting a vivid picture of a world filled with wonder, rich culture, and advanced technology, and the sense of belonging she had felt.

She spoke of her family, of the joy and love that had defined her early years. The sadness in her eyes was palpable when she mentioned the loss of her planet, the weight of that history evident in her voice.

"Coming to Earth was a huge change," Kara admitted with a wistful smile. "But being with Eliza and Alex made it feel like home again."

(Y/n) listened attentively, hanging on to every word. She felt a connection to Kara, a kinship with a shared sense of longing, understanding of what it meant to yearn for a place to belong.

"And you, (Y/n)?" Kara asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "What brought you to the DEO?"

(Y/n) chuckled, her gaze thoughtful. "I've always wanted to make a difference, to help those in need. The DEO offered a chance to do that, and well, here I am."

Kara smiled, her hand reaching across the table to cover (Y/n)'s briefly—a gesture of comfort and understanding.

Their conversation continued, going from one topic to another. The evening air was filled with the soft hum of the coffee shop, the world outside fading away as they became immersed in each other's stories.

As the night grew darker, the two found themselves walking along the city streets once more, the air crisp and refreshing. They walked side by side, their fingers brushing against each other's ever so often.

The sight of a park bench bathed in moonlight caught Kara's attention, and she gently guided (Y/n) toward it. They sat down, the world around them still and peaceful.

"This has been an amazing night," Kara said softly, her voice filled with warmth.

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, a contented smile on her lips. "It really has."

Kara's heart raced as she looked into (Y/n)'s eyes, the connection between them undeniable. She reached out, gently cupping (Y/n)'s cheek. (Y/n) leaned into it, Kara's touch felt soft and tender.

"(Y/n)," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. "There's something I've been wanting to do all night."

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat as she felt Kara's gaze intensify. Her heart pounded, anticipation mingling with nerves.

Without another word, Kara leaned in, her lips meeting (Y/n)'s in a gentle, lingering kiss. The world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, their connection deepening with every stolen breath.

When they finally pulled away, their eyes met—a shared understanding and a promise of something more. The moonlight painted their faces with a soft glow, the universe itself seemingly aligning in their favor.

As they walked back towards (Y/n)'s apartment, their fingers intertwined, they couldn't help but feel that the stars themselves had conspired to bring them together. The night was young, and their journey had only just begun.

THE END

#supergirl #x reader #supergirl x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female y/n #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers #kara zor el #doctor reader #doctor y/n #fluff #cute fluff #one shot #oneshot #romantic #date night #romantic date #cheesy #part 2

[julianrchandlerx]

setting: blank slate  featuring: julian chandler & open

Art could be therapeutic. Julian had learned that from a young age and spent most of his time when stressed or upset with a pen and paper in hand, just sketching until the restless thoughts and difficult feelings melted away and his entire focus was instead on the artwork he was creating. When he died and then was turned, he spent most of his time alone with his easel just trying to make sense of what happened and what he was now. It had helped for the most part, at least to keep him somewhat centered and feeling like himself. So when the dust settled after the nightmare which Lunar Cove lived through, Jules turned back to his most trusted method of coping.

Many paintings of blood splattered frozen lakes and fiery stage scenes later and now he was at a usual Wine & Paint night, assisting a smaller than normal group with a simple painting which he hoped would maybe give them a mental reprieve. Tonight was a particularly easy one; a pink-orange-yellow sunset background with an all black beach silhouette at the foreground. A very easy and forgiving composition anyone could master, the customers sure to walk away that night with a canvas they could be proud of. As one of his coworkers lead the instruction, Julian went around to offer individualized help and supplies. The smile that grew on his face was warm and genuine, pausing as he came onto an in progress painting which caught his eye. “This is wonderful,” he said softly, a dash of excitement present in his low voice. “You did a fantastic job at painting that sunset — isn’t it fun to see your painting come together so beautifully as you build upon it?”

#lunarcovestarter #&& convos. #// I know I’ve done a wine & paint starter before but ssh let’s ignore my lack of originality #blood tw #death tw

[forevrus-in-love]

What Are Some Valentine's Day Date Night Ideas?

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and what better way to celebrate your love than with a night to remember? Let's dive into some easy-to-follow late-night Valentine's Day date ideas that promise to spark your celebration.

1. Romantic Dinner at Home

Setting the Atmosphere

Soft lights, candles flickering, and your favorite love songs playing in the background. Creating a cozy atmosphere is the first step to a perfect late-night Valentine's Day. Illuminate your space with a gentle glow, and don't forget to add a touch of magic with those flickering candles.

Cooking Together

Turn your kitchen into a shared adventure. Pick a recipe that speaks to both of you and let the culinary journey begin. It's not just about the food; it's about the laughter, the teamwork, and the joy of creating something delicious together.

Indoor or Outdoor Picnic

Who says picnics are only for daylight hours? Lay out a comfy blanket indoors or venture outside for a moonlit dinner. Pack your partner's favorite snacks, and under the stars, enjoy a romantic evening that feels simple and extraordinary.

2. Outdoor Adventure

Stargazing

Escape the city hustle and bustle for a quiet spot where the stars take center stage. Lay back, hold hands, and let the night sky be the backdrop to your intimate conversations. See if you can spot constellations and, who knows, maybe catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

Sunset Hike or Walk

For a mix of romance and adventure, explore a scenic trail or park as the sun dips below the horizon. Pack a small picnic to savor during your journey, turning your late afternoon into an enchanting experience.

Hot Air Balloon Ride

Take your love to new heights with a hot air balloon ride. Feel the thrill of floating in the sky, surrounded by breathtaking views. Share a toast mid-air, making this Valentine's Day an unforgettable high point in your relationship.

Also read more Valentine’s day date ideas 

3. Creative Activities

Paint and Sip Night

Discover your inner artist with a paint-and-sip night at home. Create a painting station, follow a tutorial, or let your creativity run wild. Sip on your favorite beverages, and revel in the joy of crafting a masterpiece together.

DIY Craft Night

Unleash your creativity with a DIY night. Choose a project that interests you, whether personalized gifts or unique home decor. Crafting together isn't just about the result; it's about the journey and the shared memories you create along the way.

Couples' Massage Night

Transform your living space into a serene spa for a night of relaxation. Take turns giving each other massages, using scented oils and soothing music to enhance the experience. It's a simple yet intimate activity that fosters a deeper connection.

4. Movie Marathon

Personalized Film Selection

Craft a movie lineup that holds sentimental value for both of you. Whether revisiting old favorites or discovering new ones, a personalized film selection adds a personal touch to your late-night movie marathon.

Snack Buffet

Elevate your movie night with a variety of snacks and treats. From classic popcorn to homemade goodies, create a snack buffet to indulge in while immersing yourselves in the movie marathon. Set up a cozy movie-watching space with blankets and pillows for added comfort.

Share Thoughts and Memories

Between movies, take a moment to discuss favorite scenes or reminisce about shared memories related to the films. These reflections deepen your connection, making the movie marathon more than just a passive activity.

Conclusion

As Valentine's Day approaches, consider these late night date ideas to create an extraordinary celebration of love. Whether you choose a romantic dinner, an outdoor adventure, creative activities, or a movie marathon, the key is to focus on quality time and shared experiences. Make this Valentine's Day unforgettable by embracing the simplicity and beauty of creating lasting memories with your significant other. 

#late night date ideas #late night date #valentines day #valentines day date ideas #date ideas #romantic date ideas #dating ideas #dating tips

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

LOVE APPROACH Day 3. by Nagi - Translation

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Day 3

Found you! As I thought, you were on the rooftop.

Who do you think Nagi is? No matter how big this mansion is, it’s easy enough to find out where you are.

Evidence #1: After lunch yesterday you were looking at the painting on the entrance.

It’s a replica of a famous impressionist work that features a beautiful sunset over the ocean.

Evidence #2: Yesterday it was raining, but today the weather is very nice.

That is to say, the thing you would most likely do this evening would be to watch the sunset, right?

(giggles)

Amazing, isn't it? As expected of Nagi!

But if you look a little closer at something like this, you’ll realize it right away. It’s way too simple to be able to call it a deduction, isn’t it?

(giggles)

What am I doing here? What should I do when you ask me something like that?

Am I allowed to say that I had no particular reason and just came to meet you?

(giggles)

I can clearly see you’re troubled. If I don’t keep an eye on you, I’ll get worried.

Fine, I’ll tell you the real reason.

I couldn’t help but want to meet you, that’s why I came here.

How do you feel about Nagi?

Were you thinking “I want to meet him”, like me?

Are you listening properly?

It would never be normal for me to be thinking about one person this much. It’s like a miracle!

So please think carefully. Not just about your own feelings now, but of me too, okay?

Hey, hold out your little finger.

(pinky swears)

It’s a promise! There’s lots of time, so stick to what you decide.

However, if you can’t grasp your feelings properly, leave it to Nagi.

There’s no mystery that I can’t solve. Including love.

What is true love? How do you feel when you fall in love? I know it all, because I have you.

Next ⇒ LOVE AFFAIR with Nagi

#uta no prince sama #utapri #translation #english #he★vens #love affair #nagi mikado

[gerardspuppy]

Thoughts on the Valar and Maiar and their styles from someone who knows nothing about fashion beyond "diy everything".

Manwe and Varda - All white, very swoopy very fine fabrics, sometimes translucent, often skin tight with flowy skirts or sleeves. Not the most practical or comfortable looking but beautiful, white corsets and tiaras, lots of white glitter absolutely everywhere, on clothes, makeup, skin, hair, etc. Mostly minimalistic silver jewelry. White feathers appear a lot. (Wearing all white also helps to cover up the presence of bird shit on your clothes but they would never say this out loud).

Aule and Yavanna - Full on hippie look, bright colors and messy patterns, chunky jewelry with various wooden beads or gemstones, patterned headbands, large loose pants and shirts, lots of organic looking designs, goggles with tinted lenses, messy hair, usually done up in Maiar of Aule and loose in Maiar of Yavanna. Maiar of Aule also switch to leather work clothes and metal welding masks in the forges when required.

Orome and Vana - Who needs clothes anyway?? Lots of animal pelts flung hastily on, various pigments (blood) used as war paint like makeup, but otherwise not much in the way of style. Very practical clothing is favored, stuff which is loose, blends in with the forest, and is easy to move around in. They often wear animal masks carved out of wood with designs painted on.

Irmo and Este - Pastel colors, poppies are very popular both as crowns or as designs, dreamy, hazy patterns often depicting moths or owls, thick veils and shawls, long night gown like robes, bare feet or comfortable slippers, iridescent colors, pale pinks and oranges like sunsets, hazy greys, blanket like capes with moths wings on them.

Namo and Vaire - Black so dark you can't make out form, long veils that you can see nothing through, low hoods, no jewellery, no visible faces or hair or skin, dark silk gloves that are incredibly soft and make you want to take their hand, dark slippers that make no sound, the occasional glimpse of smokey breaths from behind the veil, no patterns, utter emptiness. Vaire weaves their clothes out of darkness and death itself.

Nienna - Extremely simple, drab clothing and colors, lots of greys and browns and dark greens, translucent veils which are often the only decorated part of the outfit and have patterns of weeping eyes or bones on them, thick comforting fabrics, often with hoods, the Maiar are always ready to shrug off a layer of their clothes to give to any who need it more.

Tulkas and Nessa - Clothes that lend themselves well to movement, whether that be dancing or fighting. Lots of bright reds and warm colors, often no shirts with loose pants, or close fitted sleeveless shirts. Many belts and loops to hang ribbons or weapons or maybe both from. Armored masks are often seen, in the shape of a deer to honor Nessa. Colorful ribbons and small metal charms for luck are braided into the hair.

Ulmo - Very few clothes but most are made out of dead sea animals. Skin tight suits of seal skin, shiny objects and seabird feathers as jewellery to attract fish, glittery body paint swirled around to mimic the shapes in seashells. Fish scales are sometimes stuck to the body or to clothing. Any fabrics used are rough and stiff to survive prolonged salt and sun exposure, and are thick enough to withstand stings from any sea animals. Sea urchin spines are stuck onto clothes as defense, and the most fierce Maiar have the fins and spines of dead lionfish stuck to their clothes, kept alive and potent through magic (mishaps and accidents happen much more frequently than anyone wants to admit). Extremely bright colors in everything that they wear, often for non everyday wear clothes many colorful frills and tendrils are attached to mimic the looks of certain fish and sea slugs.

Melkor - The original punk rocker of Arda. All black clothes, often form fitting, leather gloves and straps, silver or black jewellery everywhere, especially rings and piercings, teased gothic hair, masks with horrifying blank expressions and horns protruding out of them, heavy gothic or death metal makeup, metal spikes absolutely everywhere, thick heavy duty boots. Very gruesome designs often depicting severed bodyparts, bodies deformed through torture, and rotting bones. Parts of bodies are often mummified and used as accessories, especially hands, eyes, or entire heads.

Bonus third age Sauron because he was practically a Vala in his own right by then and Mordor followed his look - Steampunk, grotesque rotting bodies held together by beautifully polished metal parts, metal armor hammered into the very flesh of soldiers, lots of golds and reds, gold piercings and rings (hah), bodies half split open and their whirring mechanical insides visible through the flesh, steam rising from every surface, elegant, tight fitting black fabrics with red and gold accents.

#silmarillion headcanons #this is just a reminder so i dont forget to draw them #the valar #manwe #varda #tulkas #este #vaire #nienna #orome #namo #irmo #ulmo #aule #yavanna #nessa #vana #mairon #sauron #the silmarillion #tolkein

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine.

Word Count: 484

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter.

Warnings: Fluff

----------------------------------------- Epilogue

In the spring of the following year, they found a piece of land that would hold four homes with plenty of space for privacy. Maria did use her powers to make it all legal.

Then, when they were standing there on the land, she let her powers bring their dream homes into reality. The houses were spaced far enough away from each other that sound wouldn’t travel, and they wouldn’t bother each other.

Sam and Jess took the house closest to the front of the property since the two were still going to college, and it would be a shorter drive on and off the land. John and Mary took the one that was further back and to the right of that first home. It was a simple home since it was just the two of them with no plans of having future children.

To the far left but still near the front of the property, she teleported Bobby’s home and his scrapyard to the land so he could continue doing what he loved, other than hunting, which was working on cars. There was one more home, nestled in the back of the land. Maria and Dean hugged everyone before they got in the Impala and made the short drive out to it.

She bit her lip as he parked in front of the two-story home. It was beautiful. The exterior was adorned with a covered porch, including a porch swing in just the right spot to watch the sunset. Even with the home having just been created, it was like the architectural design was timeless, with a pitched roof and dormer windows on the second floor, allowing natural light to filter into the cozy spaces within. The exterior was painted in warm, earthy tones, blending harmoniously with the landscape's natural beauty. 

“Come on,” Dean told her, taking her hand as he got out of the Impala.

Maria took a deep breath, letting him lead her out of the car and up the few steps to the porch. He smirked as he leaned down and picked her up, bridal style, causing her to squeal in surprise before he opened the door.

“Well, gotta do this the right way,” he smirked as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

“We’re not even married yet,” she giggled, but her heart fluttered at the thought.

Dean carried her inside but didn’t set her down; he just kicked the door behind him and kissed her, “I love you, Maria.”

“I love you too, Dean,” she replied softly.

Maria knew that due to what she was, she wouldn’t age, not like he would, but that wasn’t going to stop her from spending the rest of his life with him on Earth. Then, when the time came, she’d join him in Heaven, and the two would have eternity together. Oh, the adventures they could have then.

----------------------------------------- A/N: The End Folks. Thanks for taking this interesting journey with me. I may or may not revisit this and add to it, or I may write some as one-shots. Stay tuned...

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

#supernatural #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x femaleoc #nephilim #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fic #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn #spn au #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #nephilim fanfiction

[fountainpenguin]

"They're alive, they're awake, while the rest of the world is asleep ... Below the mine shaft roads, it will all unfold..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 3 - “Spotted”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

---

Mumbo and Impulse arrive in Evernight City... If they manage to shove past BigB and the rest of the raiding party at the gate, it'll be a night of drinks and fine dining for them! Impulse deserves something nice for being such a lovely escort this week, I reckon.

Of course, it's never that simple... is it?

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Spotted

Three evenings later…

---

Sunset lasts forever in the empty Between dimension. It paints the pink sky all rose petal-red. The desert flatness made it worse, though they're starting to tip into valley land now. That will block most of the sun. Impulse calls the biome a "dry valley," specifically. This isn't Mumbo's first trip to Evernight, but he lets Impulse ramble on about nature and rocks and snow… and it does take his mind (however briefly) off the fact that one of the llamas meandering behind him is full grown while the other is stumbling along on baby feet, her scarlet blanket much too big for her.

"What about this one?" he asks Impulse at one point, indicating the narrow valley they're walking through now. "Dragon-made or wither-made, do you reckon?"

All the land is brown and gray. In some places, the ground scoops so dramatically, Mumbo's certain he wouldn't believe Impulse even if the guy does insist their path was carved by dragon paws. Most of the rocks are pointy, but they're following a thin, semi-trodden path that's at least easier on the llamas' pads. The valley's origins may be a mystery, but the path certainly isn't. This came from other wandering traders. Certainly not Evernight's teleporting natives. When Mumbo pricks his ears, he can hear the distant sounds of minecart wheels in a shaft deep underground. The echo is familiar. It's half-tempting to take a detour and look for redstone dust to collect. Especially if no one out here's using it.

But then… If it were easy to access, other wandering traders would have pinched it long ago. Mumbo resigns himself to keeping on the path with llama reins in hand, hearing out Impulse's every rambled story. In response to his question, Impulse turns a full circle. He starts walking backwards for a few seconds with hands tucked away in his overall pockets. Mumbo waits to see if he'll trip on his tail. Impulse tilts his head. Maybe he too is listening to the echo of the empty world around them. The valley breathes in sunset quiet, apart from the occasional bounce of a rock skittering downhill (tipped by prowling mobs). Down south, the creepers are built like leopards with lithe bodies, pale colors, and fat snowshoe paws. Gleaming eyes size them up. Still, they make no move to approach. Mumbo watches one lick its haunch while an enormous vulture shuffles its wings overhead.

"Technically the valley's natural, actually," Impulse finally says.

"How can you tell, mate?"

Impulse lifts one arm to point. "Old ripple marks way up there. See 'em? There used to be a river running through this place. My guess is the Ender Dragon used commands to drain the water from every chunk in a certain radius around the city. For her kids' sake, I guess. Or half her kids? I actually don't know if endermite hybrids can swim." Then he crouches down and picks up a black and white stone. "I mean, yeah… Some of these rocks are pointy, but you can tell a lot of them had their edges smoothed away across the centuries. That's running water doing its thing."

"I suppose that makes sense… Reckon a boat ride there would've been nice, though."

"Mmhm." Impulse bounces the pretty stone. "How do you say 'stone' in Illager?"

"ᓭℸ ̣ 𝙹リᒷ"

"Geez. I don't think I could pronounce that if I tried."

"What's your native tongue?" He never did ask. It didn't seem the right time to bring it up after Impulse stared so uncomfortably at his to-do list weeks ago.

"Ooh…" He toys with the rock, sliding it between his fingers, and shrugs. "Technically I was raised to speak Ender, but we phantoms accent it with chirps and whistles. You know how we get about contact calls."

"Ah. Ender… Yeah, I can't speak a word of that."

"Really?" Impulse looks back. "So you can't understand dragons? Or does the Wander Dragon speak Illager?"

"Nope. My mum's never been one to coddle her offspring and she's too proud to stoop that far. If we expect to get anywhere in this world, we learn from others or pick it up while traveling ourselves. I'm sure someone in Little Sun could've taught me, but there are just so many languages out there, I didn't know where to start."

Impulse pats his shoulder in sympathy. "Well, I know you've been to Evernight before, but if you need any help understanding the locals, I'll be right with you. They use teleporting as a punctuation mark. Even Skizz laughs at my accent because I substitute wing flaps in for that… but I know enough to get by."

They lapse into quiet again, at least content with it this time around. Mumbo is tired and sore. Impulse is hungry and cold. This late in their travels, his thermos of souls is dry as the valley around them. He keeps glancing sideways. Mumbo catches him lick his lips and clear his throat more than once. That is…

… It's a bad, bad combination of 'tired and hungry' when one of you's a wandering trader on a mission 11, nearly 12 days from your species' spawn temple and the other in the pair is a phantom hybrid. But thus far, Impulse hasn't mentioned it. He keeps a polite distance, walking in front. The speckled rock disappears in his pocket. Like some sort of habit, though, he keeps twisting and untwisting the cap of his empty thermos. It bounces in his hands.

Oh dear…

Eventually, the man will have to eat. Not even soup will take the edge off phantom hunger for that long. Mumbo paints on a smile anyway, forcing it out when Impulse turns. "Almost there," he says, like a sinking ship. It's all been heat and sand and mesa blocks for ages, until the biome shifted and blanketed them with nothing beyond dry rocks and patches of never-melting snow. After a moment's pause, Impulse inclines his head.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, we're almost there, dude. I think we'll see the first buildings around the next bend. I can fly up and take a look if we want." His eyes glint gray in the rosy sunlight, sparking with glints of green every couple seconds. "You feelin' homesick yet?"

That's not… him looking for an opening to take me now, is he?

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

#MumboJumbo #impulseSV #bigbst4tz2 #trafficblr #hermitblr #mcyt #BigB #ridwriting #fic announcement #apparently art #My one regret is that this preview image does not make it obvious Impulse was just waxing poetic about tasty emeralds #traffic life smp #Skizzleman #Imp and Skizz #Criminal Experience #Pixels Imperfect

[welcome-to-maniac]

MANIAC – Recon

tw for; murder, strangling, arson, cage-fighting ig, severe injury, Minho is unconscious

“Don’t return until the hybrid has been retrieved and that venue is burned to the ground.” Their Boss’ words are clear as they hand out weaponry and earpieces to the five men standing outside the now shut doors of MANIAC. The plan was simple in theory; grab AJ, destroy the underground fighting ring. But nothing surrounding the bar, the owner and its staff was ever simple.

“Stay alive, you lot.” A promising smile, and an outstretched hand. For all their mystery, the owner has their own reasons for staging a recon for Jeongin’s boyfriend, rather than ignoring it in favour of running the – very successful – bar. And Jeongin is well aware.

“You got it Boss; thank you.”

The minivan is largely quiet, par the radio, the five all occupied with one thing or the other; Jisung resting his feet on the dashboard of the vehicle while he stares outside the window, Felix keeping an eye on the supplies they were going to be using to get in (namely, passes for the ‘event’ and vials of poisons) and watching the road from behind Minho’s spot in the driver’s seat. The other two are in their own world much the same, Hyunjin listening to Jeongin’s plans to douse the venue in question in gasoline. He’s done it before, with promising results, and his usual dealer promised to drop off several barrels of the stuff.

It’s approaching sunset, and Jeongin wants to paint the sky in oranges and reds.

The vehicle comes to a sudden stop and laughs echo when Jisung all but screams in shock, a pout of feigned hurt on his face as he gets himself upright. Seconds later, Jisung now sitting upright like a regular human being, in Hyunjin’s humble opinion, Felix hands out the passes and four other vials he had been protecting.

“What are we playing with this time Lix~?” Hyunjin hums, turning the vial in his hand and pocketing it. Felix has changed so much from the beacon of innocence he first saw him as, and something in Hyunjin’s heart warms as he listens to Felix talk about what they all do with a fire in his eyes.

He was Dr Frankenstein, and Felix was his perfect little monster.

“Tetrodotoxin~ I put them in syringe vials, and this is some expensive shit, so only use it when you really have to, aight?” Felix instructs, the Australian accent peeking through the end of his sentence. He’s shelled out a few grand for each vial, and if it gets wasted Felix can’t say who he’s going to hurt (Jisung) in compensation. It was his money on the line, after all.

Jeongin and Hyunjin are the first to split up and set themselves up; Hyunjin finding a vantage point on an abandoned building opposite the venue, a perfect line of sight for his first few targets. With some well-placed shots, the ‘bartender’ could be in and out with plenty of time to scout the building before the youngest ultimately sends it all up in smoke. Watching Jeongin slip inside from his spot, Hyunjin sets his sights on the first of the many organisers and official looking people on his hitlist tonight.

That’s it, turn around so I can see that pretty face.

A push on the trigger.  The effect is immediate, and the smirk grows on Hyunjin’s face like it was always meant to be there. Too easy. Clean up will come later, preferably from the fire that already has Hyunjin warming up at the thought. They could even make some twisted version of campfire roasted marshmallows if they find a convenience store open at this time. The hum of thanks from Jisung rings in his ear and Hyunjin watches as the vandal starts making his way into the back rooms. A helpful little source gave them a floorplan, and the five have committed it to memory lest they get lost.

“Your turn darling~” A sigh. A loving sigh.

“I’m boutta start calling you Sam again if you call me darling one more time Jin-ah…” Felix chuckles, putting his phone to his ear to mask the earpiece sitting just behind it.

“You should. I like hearing you call me Sam.” Another sigh. Hyunjin knows he’s pushing it, but his English name just sounded that much better coming from Felix. Everything sounds so much better coming from Felix.

“Fine; but just this once,” the Aussie knows it won’t be the last time. It never is. “You see the guy taking our passes, Sam? Take him out the second I get inside. We need some chaos to distract the audiences.”

Fire once Lix is inside; easy enough.

“Oh Bbokkie, I could listen to you talk like that for ever – fuck, you’re my perfect little monster.”

The conversation dies after that, and Hyunjin gets into position, his mind running with more than just the sightline his rifle is giving him of the bouncer checking the passes. Felix isn’t too far behind, a handful of people ahead of the raven. The line keeps moving, and the movie reel in Hyunjin’s head gets louder, more vivid, and Hyunjin can remember that night perfectly.

Four people left.

Sam waits at the top of the building. Yongbok’s been the best thing this messed up world has blessed him with. A ray of sunshine in a world of sin. Ready to be corrupted. Ready to be moulded.

Three people left.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it Yongbokkie? The world at your feet.” Sam hums, leaning against the wall as Yongbok stares at Gangnam’s night view. He could show Yongbok the world; give him the world. All he needs is for Yongbok to do this one thing for him.

“Beautiful, Sam…You just want to fall right in.”

Two people left.

“Would you fall? Fall for me?” Sam’s voice was sin; dripping with honey and hidden promises of something more if Yongbok just gives in. Gives in to the warm touch on his cheek that the Australian is subconsciously leaning into. His back is to the edge of the roof. He’d fall if he took a step backwards. Fall twenty-five feet to the concrete below.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. “I’d fall for you, Sam. I’d fall of this building for you.”

One more.

A hand on his chest. Sam stares at him with an intensity he’s never seen before and maybe Yongbok doesn’t hate it. Doesn’t hate that his life is now in the Devil’s hands.

The Devil always was God’s favourite.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Yongbokkie, do you want to hear it?” Fuck, the way Sam says his name…there isn’t a breath in his throat anymore. So he nods; eager and desperate.

“Yes— please…” Sam leans in and Yongbok listens intently. His chest is tight with anticipation.

“My name is Hyunjin.”

And Yongbok falls. He falls all twenty-five feet to the ground below, and Hyunjin is there, falling after him.

The shot is clean; right between the eyes just like Boss taught him. He hears Felix’s laugh at the commotion happening below and that’s the sniper’s cue to get off the roof and pick his second position.  The roof was grimy anyway – what a waste of architecture that never gets to see the light of completion.

Minho’s the last one to go in, pocketing the pass in his hand and sliding in through the panic. If someone asks to the see the pass, he’ll have it on hand; for now, it’s useless. The venue is somewhere he’s never been before, but everything is all too familiar. Too real now that he’s inside and can hear the sounds of fighters getting ready. Even without the map committed to memory, Minho will probably be able to find the arena with little difficulty.

This was his life too, at one point. Fighting to earn a coin before retreating to your room – or worse, some place on the streets – to lick your wounds if you made it out alive.

His chest seizes as he hears the sound of the MC, the stars in his pocket glowing warmth in the coldness of his environment. The former fighter palms over the pendent; reminders. Reminders that his family – his new one – are waiting for him to come home safe. His surroundings start to slip away, however, as he looks down at his hands and sees eighteen-year-old Minho’s hands staring right back at him.

He's back there.

His hands are bloody now, shaking as he looks up and sees a dead man laying across from him. Minho doesn’t mean to kill him, but he’s young and they promised to give him an extra portion of food and few extra bills of cash if he wins tonight. It’s someone’s brother, his mind remembers; Kim Jun-something. A twenty-two year old with enough luxury to live in the venue with his younger brother.

He killed him. He’s a murderer, at eighteen. He’s not even an adult yet.

The ringing in his head gets louder. And louder. And louder—

“What’s this, everyone? The ace himself, Lee Know has returned!” Blinking, Minho’s confused; how do they know the alias he used? And then he sees it; he’s in the cage, and the doors are shut. Felix is in the corner of his eye, and Minho can hear him saying that Sung is gonna cut the lights, distract them for a bit. Sorry hyung, but we gotta improvise.

“I don’t fight any—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence when pain blooms against his ribs, his opponent intent on causing as much damage as possible right off the bat. It stings, and Minho feels several shards. He checks his jacket, ducking from his opponent and his face falls.

They’re broken.

There’s nothing left to lose, and Minho throws his jacket to the side and lunges. If playing along and cage-fighting will give the kids enough time to get stuff done, then so be it. Cage-fighting is dirty, so he plays dirty; the butterfly-knife he keeps in his boot is brought out and Minho wastes no time in dealing with opponent after opponent, the rhythm returning to him much like bike riding.

He’s winded by the time the lights finally go out, only just managing to find his jacket and run out as the cage door is no longer electronically sealed.

Never again.

“Hello again, Lee Know hyung.”

Jeongin has been running ever since he set foot inside the arena, searching and searching for any sign of AJ in the halls of dorm rooms. He sticks out like a sore thumb; skin unmarred and well-fitting clothes. He’s heard stories from Minho about what his hyung used to do to earn money, and as much as he’s glad Minho isn’t in that position, that position is exactly where AJ has been forced into.

Using the wall to stop his momentum, Jeongin freezes. He hears whimpers, and he swears he saw something familiar in the corner of his eye. His heart drops. Kicking the door out of the way and ignoring the looks from the other people in the room.

AJ wasn’t…were they? No, no, they couldn’t have been.

The lights go out as he’s searching AJ for any injuries and he curses, bringing out a lighter to continue when he’s pulled onto his feet and spun around so fast he nearly gets whiplash. It’s a tough-looking thug, someone who would have easily scared Jeongin if he wasn’t hellbent on saving his boyfriend.

“The hybrid’s mine kid, fuck off before I beat you with your own ribs.” Jeongin laughs. He laughs, switching on his earpiece and letting his hyungs in on the conversation he’s having. It’s Jisung who picks up, and Jeongin knows he can stall for at least a good five minutes.

He’ll have to sacrifice one of his good lighters, Jeongin realises, as he watches the beefy thug walk up to him; the height difference isn’t too substantial, and the arsonist bites back a crafty grin as he spots a cotton thread. A necklace.

“Take one more step big boy and I’ll make a barbeque out of your neck.” Jeongin hums, yanking the bigger man to eye level and flicking the lighter dangerously close to his ear, the roar of the flame that much louder grazing the thug’s ear. There’s a look in Jeongin’s eyes as the words leave his mouth – he knows this – and it screams of a crazed sincerity.

It’s unnerving.

“Fuck man, I’ll leave you and the— sorry, your boyfriend alone. Just get out before the guards see you.” Just to reiterate his point, Jeongin sears the cotton thread off, singing the thug’s neck and leaving a grown man yowling in pain as he works on picking his boyfriend up, sneaking him out of the building.

He throws the minivan door open and bundles his boyfriend in thick coats and a blanket, kissing their forehead and sighing in relief. AJ was safe now.

“Hyungs, I’ve got him. Ransack it before I send it up in smoke.”

Jisung chuckles as he approaches the room Jeongin was in not that long ago, the same look in his eye. What he lacks in physical height he makes up for in strength and force of presence, however, as he ransacks the room and aims his bat at anything worth smashing. Pocketing anything of value to pawn off later, he does the same to any other open rooms he comes across, leaving a trail of Jisung-shaped destruction in his wake.

He meets Felix and Hyunjin at the offices, both men beat up with guards lying dead at their feet. There’s a few bruises on the pair of them, but it looks like Hyunjin got the worse deal – a gash on the taller man’s arm.

“Did I seriously miss the fun, again?!” He whines, much to the amusement of the other two as he kicks in the door and nearly screams because, yes the door is open, but fuck did he just snap his ankle doing it? Either way, the door is open, and the trio spend little time going through every safe and computer they can see, stealing an unused duffle bag to stash any wrapped up bills of cash.

“Has anyone heard from Minho hyung?” Jeongin asks.

The room freezes. Three pairs of eyes ask silent questions as Jisung dashes out of the room, swearing under his breath as he tries to remember the last time they collectively heard Minho say anything since he mentioned heading into the arena.

The arena. Minho is at the arena.

Minho can faintly smell gasoline as the hand on his throat squeezes tighter, his head spinning. Jeongin must have start spraying the gasoline, his mind tries to tell him, but all he can focus on is that he’s currently being strangled against the wall of the arena, and his assailant knows him enough to call him hyung.

“Look I— fuck, I don’t know how you know me, but you’ve got to let go.” Bad idea. The hand gets tighter, and through the white noise in his ears, Minho hears it.

“You remember Kim Junseok, don’t you hyung? My brother?”

His ribs are already battered and bruised, and Minho’s sure he’s sprained something, but the name brings back years of suppressed memories and suddenly the bartender can recognise who’s hellbent on killing him. It’s Junhyeong. His first victim’s younger brother. The look of recognition on his face must shine like a neon sign, because Junhyeong laughs. He laughs and tightens the grip on Minho’s neck even more. It’s going to leave bruises – if he makes it out alive, that is.

Minho’s phone isn’t in his pocket, likely dropped somewhere he can’t remember as he flails to try and pry the fingers away from his neck, black spots dancing in the corners of his vision. He needs to get Junhyeong’s hands off of him soon, or he’s going to be out cold. Permanently, if the expression on Junhyeong’s face is anything to go by.

Then he hears plastic. Plastic zip-ties.

“Let’s get this fucking thing off first hyung…” Junhyeong reaches for the necklace, and Minho panics. His pleads fall on deaf ears as the pendant is crushed under Junhyeong’s boot, the bartender’s heart breaking along with it. It spurs on the last of his adrenaline, however, as Minho reaches for the tetrodotoxin syringe in his back pocket, silently grateful that it’s remained intact.

He plunges the needle into Junhyeong’s neck, ripping it out and wincing at the spray of blood as he tries to pry the zip-ties off. Sorry kid…at least you’ll see your brother again.

He can’t get it off in time, and he slumps against the wall as his mind registers the smallest  hints of footsteps.

Jisung nearly cries in relief when he finds Minho, texting on the older man’s phone to Jooheon, rambling as he relays what he’s seeing for himself. And then he sees the zip-ties and Jisung has to scramble to remove them because how long has Minho been without oxygen? He pockets the broken pendant too, hauling Minho into his arms bridal style and booking it as fast as he can out of the venue because they all need to leave now.

“Jisung hyung—! Is— is Minho hyung..?”

“Just about alive!” Jeongin relaxes almost immediately. AJ is safe, and no one is dead. Throwing the rest of the nearly-empty gasoline barrels towards the building, the arsonist stares at his good lighter. A lighter shaped like a deck of cards. There will be others, he reminds himself, as he throws it as hard as he can and watches the flames start to engulf the venue, the inmates and struggling fighters left inside no longer his concern.

It's as beautiful as he imagined it.

Felix nearly passes out as he drives them all back home, dizzy from the after effects of the adrenaline rush and a job well done.

“I can’t wait to get some good fucking sleep.” Hyunjin groans. They laugh, tired, beaten, some unconscious, but alive. They all need sleep after this.

Perhaps a hospital.

#🍹 jeongin.txt #🥂hyunjin.txt #🥃 minho.txt #🍷 felix.txt #🍾 jisung.txt #💼bar owner.txt #📖 story.txt

[ravenkinnie]

I'm on a minor brainrot but brain goes brr I love fear of abandonment and punk

ao3 link

The corner of the handheld mirror is shattered. It paints Gwen’s face into a body horror mosaic held together by the heavy black sculpted vines crawling over the handle, the frame. There's no dimension where this mirror belongs to Hobie, probably borrowed or just picked up from someone else living in the abandoned warehouse turned graffiti-painted squat he's staying in, one of the voices Gwen can always hear beyond the partitions Hobie set up to carve out his space.

She turns the mirror to peek at the shaved line of her hair; it looks odd and choppy, even though the line has never been even, Gwen’s own hand not particularly steady at lining the hair. It might be because Hobie cut it to the sharp dark contrasts of this dimension, his dimension, where everything looks heavy and choppy to Gwen. In her own, the hair on the shaved side falls soft and smooth, lines blending into each other perfectly.

She tips the mirror again, to look at Hobie’s head behind her shoulder, where he's bending over towards the floor.

"It's crooked," she says.

"It doesn't conform." Hobie gathers chopped strands of hair into his hands, throws them into the cardboard box on the floor working as a trashcan. Gwen is pretty sure the other week the box doubled as a hospital, when one of the cats always lounging around the squat gave birth inside it.

She turns the mirror, giving a theatrical pout as she pretends to examine Hobie’s work again. "Maybe a hairdresser would have been better."

"Don't buy into the industry, Gwendy." Hobie throws himself down onto the sagging couch with sides ripped apart by cat claws. He grabs a box from underneath the couch, lays the lid on his lap before smoothing a rolling paper on it, messily putting together a blunt. "Create an idea, make it a fake art, sell your own body back to you, all bullshit."

It diffuses like gentle oranges of a sunset above the Hudson, right behind Gwen’s ribs, the easiness in the pointless conversation. She hasn't felt this easy with someone since Miles, the only one since Peter.

She lowers the mirror, turning around on the uncomfortable barstool serving as a chair to face him. "You fixed those wicks yourself?"

"I paid in favours like we were meant to live." Hobie pauses for a moment, trying to roll the blunt tightly enough. "And Blue Ribbon."

He gets a chuckle out of her, in the same easy way Hobie always manages. Maybe being around him is so simple, so uncomplicated because he reminds her of Miles. They have the same air about them, the same genuine, straightforward way of being unquestionably good. No conversations or discussions around whether Hobie would give Gwen a place to stay when Jessica introduced them, no questions when he gave her the thick mattress to sleep on, taking the space on the floor himself.

Or when she freaked out at the Spider Society headquarters that first day, when the notification on her phone went off, a reminder of the oestrogen injection that has been a part of Gwen’s life for so long she didn't think about leaving her supply back home, about the consequences of cutting herself off everything back home, everything crashing down in the moment the stupid alert popped up on the screen. It felt stupid to worry about an injection too, with the magnitude of everything that has happened, that could happen as explained by Jessica and Miguel but the awareness of how silly it all seemed in the grand scheme of things only made the tears sting more. Hobie didn't have to ask, just took one glance at her phone and clucked his tongue. The next thing Gwen knew was the wordlessly offered paper bag with the vial and clean syringes, the same one that Hobie always leaves next to the mattress now.

Gwen squirms on the stool, itchy hair trapped underneath her shirt – Hobie’s shirt, small clusters of holes on sleeves, bigger ones with uneven cigarette burned edges by the hem as if Hobie stubbed them out on his own clothes. The logo for his band faded in the wash, bleeding some colour into material; it's an old logo too from three bassist and two drummers ago, before he threw the drumsticks to Gwen, told her to show what she got.

It's not like Gwen doesn’t have practise being taken in like this. After her mom died barely few days before Christmas that year, in the drained stark white and greyish blur of days, May and Ben became almost permanent fixtures at their already tiny apartment. Her dad was there but he might as well have been gone, his face just as drained and his eyes as empty as everything around. He scared Gwen somewhat, the utter stillness of him that felt in such contrast to everything reeling and storming inside her, all the facts and details of her reality yet to sink in.

There was no questions then too, about where they would spend that Christmas and every year after that, no hesitation when Peter and May took her hands in theirs, her dad on the other side, bowed their heads as Gwen muttered the gratitude prayers, her dad's lips barely twitching, barely moving to repeat the words. She hasn't really prayed by herself since, the thought of sitting at that dinner table thanking anything watching over the universe feeling wrong, tasteless.

She slips off the stool, tries to shake the hair out of her shirt. Her foot almost slips on the pile of pinkish slide on the floor; the life in the warehouse isn't just human and feline but the cats take care of the mice, the rats just fine. Gwen wishes they would do it cleaner too, the tiny macabre piles on the floor making her stomach churn every time.

Maybe that's what Hobie likes, the strays. The anomalies that find new ways to fit into their situations. He likes Miles, Gwen knows from how all the colours of him flicker when she talks about him, like Hobie can't help the fondness that bleeds from Gwen into him.

Her fingers brush the choppy shaved line. She lets the longer side grow out but every time her hair gets to her ears on the other one her mind keeps repeating the words she heard from her mom once, about how hair holds memories. Her mom's straw blond hair stayed the same shape that Gwen has seen in her parents’ wedding photos, wispy bangs and ends brushing shoulders. She's not sure whether it makes her feel closer to her or to Miles sometimes, but it doesn't matter anyway.

She catches Hobie’s eye, right before he lets his gaze fall to his lighter. A brief look, a little hesitant maybe like he's checking whether she likes it.

Gwen smiles at him. "It looks cool."

Hobie smiles back, softer than the sharp curl of his lip that shows his canines. Maybe Gwen is just drawn to kindness, the same way Hobie is to anomalies.

***

The day is saved.

The day is saved, Gwen repeats to herself, again and again but the words don't stay. The anomaly is contained, already sent off to the headquarters but the wreckage left behind, most of the sketch linework of the city crumpled and shattered under its heavy reptilian feet, looks gruesome. Squashed and ruined, impossible to imagine being put back together.

She's shaking a little, grasps onto her thighs through the thin layer of her suit to stop her muscles from twitching. Aftershocks from adrenaline, one thing Gwen still hasn't learned to cope with yet, hasn't figured out how to stop. Right at the top of the list and after that: the sour taste in her mouth seeing the destruction in so many universes, so many different ways to take a home and turn it into dust.

A hand grasps onto her arm. Gwen turns around quickly, keeps her feet firm on the ground to stop her body reacting instinctively against the intrusion as the frazzled linework on one of the civilians her web got out of the way of the beast registers. The thankful words, the gratitude in the way pencilled hands hold hers comes through her ears muffled, like the blood rushing through her systems turned everything inside into cotton, blocking all ways out, all ways in.

Still feels good, though. Still makes it feel worth it.

Her wristwatch pipes up the moment the person is out of sight. Jess' hologram shows up with barely a graze of Gwen’s fingers over the buttons.

"How’s it going?" Her voice is casual, light in a way that immediately rings an alarm bell in Gwen’s head.

"Good!" She coughs to cover up the edge in her voice, waves her hand as if to disperse dust from the wreckage around her. There is none but Jess won’t be able to see that. "All good, just cleaning up, you know how it is."

Her hand goes instinctively to the sting in her ribs, right underneath her breast, burrowing into her to make its way into her heart. Or maybe out of it, the embarrassing desire to hear Jess say Gwen did good, not just that she did fine. She tries to cover it up with quips and bits but around Jess it's much harder, harder to pretend Gwen doesn't want her to see something in her, to recognise some mystical magical spark that means she doesn't just get to stay, that she even belongs somewhere, by right and talent. She might hope it lessens the adrenaline shakes, the sour taste at the aftermaths, make Gwen’s words always steady and her actions always fruitful like Jessica's herself.

"Good, good." The nonchalance in Jess' voice as her hands move out of sight, probably adjusting computer screens, gets to turn Gwen’s stomach for a moment before she asks, "So I'm supposed to see a boat parked on a highway here?"

Gwen turns around. On the docks there is an unmistakable empty space that should be holding something. "I was just about to sort that out," she says, her chin raised to give her false confidence some basis.

"Proactive," Jess comments. She gives Gwen a sharp look. "Now be quick too. Before it catches on other monitors." She wouldn't tell Miguel, not before she gives Gwen a chance to fix her mistakes. It's not exactly kindness, Gwen guesses but it's the closest she's come to one with most people.

Dread pools in her stomach regardless, at the thought of Miguel finding out about another of Gwen’s mishaps, another issue caused by her. Peter says he's all bark, no bite and while Gwen has never felt those fangs sink into her, the bark itself made her trace the shells of her ears, checking if the eardrums burst leaking blood onto her white suit. Besides, he doesn't even need a bite, all he needs is to decide Gwen doesn't have what it takes, that she should go home. A possibility much worse than anything else Miguel might do to her, than any of the anomalies might.

She considers calling Hobie, but it makes her feel stupid, a child tugging on an adult’s sleeve begging for help. Even though Hobie is barely more of an adult than her but with everything he's done for Gwen so far, the scale doesn't balance. She's on her own just like him, she should figure it out on her own just like he does.

The anomaly is extremely easy to find, if only because a massive passenger yacht stuck in the middle of a traffic on a highway causes a bit of a scene. The other reason it's easy to find: the hastily drawn lines of the yacht make the cartoonish large eyes with perfect flicks of lashes it gained in this dimension look uncanny. She has to blink few times before she sees Peter Parkedcar in the mess of smog and beeping cars, engine revving in a way Gwen doesn't know how she recognises as sympathetic.

In the end, its better she didn't call Hobie, his whole shtick probably the worst thing she could subject an inanimate object that gained consciousness by fluke to.

"It's just a road." Gwen isn't sure what she would imagine a boat to sound like but the small rasp makes the wheels in her brain turn: is it the engines inside that produce the low tones? Has she ever spoken to Peter Parkedcar? How does a car get bitten by a spider, actually? Maybe she should have spoken to him before.

"All there is, a road, I can't... I can't go on like this, always going on." Gwen can sympathise - she thinks she would be equally freaked out if she suddenly happened to gain consciousness too. Or maybe she did, in a way, that’s why the crushing weight on her makes every new sensation so overwhelming.

She turns around for a moment, to assess the damage of the traffic and hide the giggle threatening to burst out but she barely makes it few steps away before the boat rasps, "Don't leave, please, don't leave me."

Well, that Gwen can relate to.

Back at the headquarters, Jess gives her a tiny nod. It's almost nothing, a blink and you miss it gesture, but in Jessica Drew's language it might as well be a full-bodied hug.

***

The washing machine sounds like a helicopter taking off. It waddles too, rattling from side to side like it's about to gain its own consciousness and walk out of the dingy apartment it lives in.

Gwen isn't sure how Hobie’s ex-girlfriend can sleep in the same room with the heavy ruckus, the pull-out couch only few steps from the kitchen corner. It might be why she only let them in before heading out herself. Gwen was too flustered to think about it then, with the quick look the girl gave her, with her snappy this your new lass, yeah?. Before Gwen even had time to process and protest, the girl tucked the long side of her hair behind Gwen's ear, smiled and with a quick sweet thrown Hobie’s way she was gone.

Gwen takes herself to the bathroom where Hobie is soaking his crust pants in the tub. The apartment is tiny, the distance from the washing machine too small to help with the noise but watching Hobie swirl his pants in the water with a broom stick like he's a wizard perfecting a potion is far more entertaining than the waddling washing machine.

"I went home the other day," Gwen says.

Hobie doesn't even look at her. "Liar."

He doesn’t say anything more; Gwen can't help a smile. He never asked for the full story, for the exact reason why she showed up at the headquarters shaking with her mask in her hands and Jessica's arm around her shoulders. He must assume there is one, the same way Gwen assumes there are many behind the squat, the ex-girlfriend who still lets him use her apartment to do laundry, the blue laces in his platform boots. It's a silent agreement to not push for these things but Gwen suspects if she did, Hobie would tell her. Hobie’s presence is comfort either because of or despite that, Gwen isn't sure. If Hobie pushed, she’s not sure she would tell him, but she is sure he won't push in the first place.

She scratches her eyebrow, the dry itchy skin around the irritated eyebrow piercing. He probably shouldn't have given it to her on the sagging couch with just a needle and a lighter, but the irritation is mostly Gwen’s fault. She can never learn to stop poking things.

Peter did a double take seeing the small titanium balls hugging her eyebrows. "That's... nice," he hesitated, Mayday wriggling in his arms. If she were Miles, he would probably make a quip, comment on the redness blooming around the piercing, maybe chastise him for the conditions he got it in because really, Miles? Do you want to actually lose your head?

But Gwen is not Miles, she's just another person with a shadow of Miles behind her, one that hangs heavy between her and Peter. He's another layer between her and Miguel, one much softer than Jess, a voice behind her back saying go easy on her. But outside those moments, he seems to avoid her like the heaviness of things they hide from that shadow between them is too much, fractures starting in the foundation they stand on.

There might be other things too. The way sometimes Gwen looks at him and it appears as soon as it passes, a brief flicker of thought that her Peter will never reach that age, that Gwen will but she will never see that age on him. And another, even quicker than the former, that there might be another face Peter sees when he looks at her, one he would never mention because she's just a kid but one that throws different shadows, obscures Gwen completely sometimes.

Gwen Stacy dies in every universe. Miguel didn't mince his words telling her, didn't cushion them with any soft places to land. Gwen twists and turns on the thick mattress some nights, the words replaying in her head, along every other Gwen falling through the sky, the brief moment where they are suspended like Gwen is but knowing there's nowhere to swing, there's only the ground to crash to. She knows the exact feeling, the lightness, the speed of falling through the sky, the absolute peace of being stuck, for just a brief moment, in the space of nothingness, no structures, no walls to hold her. But she knows the hand in hers too, that Gwen can always find her way up, that if she can't then Miles would. She only knows herself though, maybe all the other Gwens were sure of that too, that there was always a web to swing on, an arm to grasp theirs. Maybe they were sure one time too many, that one time being enough.

The question slips out before Gwen even realises she's about to ask it, "Do you think Gwen Stacy dies in this universe too?"

Hobie looks right at her, his usual air of distanced irony gone, everything serious and stable colours. He's never voiced it but it's not hard to guess the depth his doubts about Miguel's theories go or at least the distance he chooses to maintain from them.

Probably part of why he lets her crash in his dimension is that he doesn't believe an anomaly will cause anything. I don't believe in nomalies to believe in anomalies and Gwen wishes she could too but then she remembers the falls, no web to swing on. And she remembers the blue uniform splattered with blood, all the times she watched her watch light up in swirls of watercolours before switching it off. She can't risk it, she doesn't want to risk not believing.

Hobie might have seen her corner of the warehouse light up with pastels, might know what's hiding behind her words. It might be why he says, "She looks fine to me." He uses his hand to wring the water out of his pants; it comes out grey, much duller than anything in his dimension is. Gwen doesn’t stop herself from making a disgusted face. "I don’t believe in paradigms."

"You calculated the number of chords per each Ramones album."

"Patterns I believe in, yeah." He shakes out his pants, his eyes steady on Gwen. "You gotta look for the right ones."

There's a weight to his words, like he's weaving something between the letters for Gwen to find later.

The watch feels heavy on her hand. It leaves red marks on her skin when she shifts the wristband.

***

The parties at the squat are nothing like the shows Gwen has experienced before. Not that she's been to that many, sneaking off maybe twice while her dad was on night shifts, but the contrast is so sharp it makes her head spin.

It's so loud, the bass and reverb making the walls shake but it's barely music, a chaos of instruments that do not go together with a soundtrack from someone's boombox adding more layers of pure noise. It’s a large wave, current that takes everything inside her head and washes it out leaving only the riffs and the lyrics that don't match shouted from different corners of the warehouse.

She takes over the drums, beats to the rhythm then out of the rhythm then to another rhythm until it all converges, until her hands hurt and her breath catches. Then she turns in the crowd, stomps with Hobie’s chucks that couldn't hope to make the same thud and shake the ground the same as all the platforms around her. Someone grabs her hand, pulls her into a mosh pit and it’s all a mess, the outside matching the inside, all better than thinking about the quivering pathetic thing in her chest, at Miguel's anger and at Miguel's words and at her mistakes almost sending her back, almost causing the worst, triggering the canon that she has to escape, has to stomp and turn away from.

A girl with a mohawk of vibrant blues and greens taps her chin and Gwen has seen that gesture before, has felt the light tap on her chin. She always shook her head, but she can only blame the tremble in her chest and the reverb tingling in her fingers when she opens her mouth, sticks her tongue out, lets the girl put the little pill on it. She doesn't think before she swallows it.

At first, nothing happens. Gwen continues turning on the makeshift dance floor, her heartbeat beating to the rhythm of the drums, her head full of noise the same as before. Next moment she knows, she's talking to someone and everything shifts, her stomach drops and everything melts. All features blended perfectly into a mess of colours that radiates then softens, her heart almost melting with it because everything feels gentle and diluted and just like home. None of the lights and outlines and contrasts feel sharp, dark shadows with a luminous quality instead of black nothingness, a giggle bubbling in her chest, full of relief and hope.

She loses herself in pastels, finds herself again minutes or hours later with her back on the dirty floor, the lights on the ceiling blending together into tender kaleidoscopes. A hand comes into her line of sight; Gwen grabs, lets Hobie pull her to her feet.

He lays her down on the mattress, sitting next to her to keep watch. Gwen turns onto her stomach, cheek pressed against the pillow. It smells like his ex’s laundry detergent, soft from the fabric softener so much so that she grasps the sheets to make sure she doesn't sink through the mattress, through the floor, into the earth.

She watches Hobie, his legs stretched out, his guitar on his stomach, strumming the strings gently. He looks softer too, the harsh edges and shadows of him blended like candy colouring melting onto fingers, like all the kindness inside him could stain her if she managed to touch it, the tickle in her fingers she only gets around Miles. Suddenly, her chest gives a painful pang, an empty ache, all the watercolours draining into a greyish hue.

But Hobie stays painted into tender shades, emptiness inside spreading like it could swallow Gwen whole, a sudden need to take it in, to feel that softness for herself. She props herself up on her elbows, pushes herself up until she can press a small butterfly kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Hobie’s hand comes up to the back of her neck, stopping her before she can lean back in again. "Gwendy." He gives her a soothing squeeze, leans away slightly. "You don't want it."

Her eyes sting, his warm hues blend through the sudden blur of tears obscuring her vision. "Don't tell me what I want. I want-" The words slur in Gwen’s mouth into a bitter sludge, impossible to find the ending to the sentence in the mess. "I want to-"

Gwen doesn't see Hobie lay his guitar to the side, but he must have because he pulls her to his chest, tucks her under his chin. "Tell me when you stop trippin'," he says, his heartbeat strong in his chest.

Gwen breathes in and out with the thud of his heart, feels the rough worn-down material of his shirt under her cheek, the studs on his jacket digging into her arm. Her mind comes to a slower swirl, a barely there pace of thoughts escaping her as her eyelids grow heavier.

"Why Gwendy?" She manages to get out, the words blurred like his colours.

Hobie’s breath is warm on her scalp when he says, "'Cause you left Neverland."

Her mouth still tastes bitter when the light of the morning comes through the large windows, the shutters open. She opens her eyes, blinking rapidly against the unbearable brightness. Her mind feels even heavier than her tongue does in her mouth, all limbs turn to lead.

Next to the pillow, on the floor right by the mattress, stands a full water bottle and a Styrofoam box giving off the scent of fresh pastries. It's as comforting as a heartbeat in a chest against hers.

Gwen turns to her other side pulling the covers over her head as her foot hits something heavy. She groans in tune to the annoyed meow.

***

Her hand hesitates above the watch. This time, the screen doesn't bleed watercolours, it radiates the steady lines and rich colours of Earth-616, the skyline that feels familiar now.

Jess' words keep replaying in Gwen’s head. "I told Miguel you can handle it." The sharp look above her glasses, the warning in her gaze. "Don't prove me wrong."

Every time her hand grasped the watch before, every time she imagined this exact moment, it was different, though. It would be a reward, not a test, nothing but Gwen’s own want making her press the buttons. Nothing that Gwen would have keep from Miles, no words to swallow, everything spilling out about the stray cats leaving mice in her sneakers, the sharp contrasts of Hobie’s world, Hobie himself. Her dad.

She can't lie to Miles, she's not sure she ever could. But keeping things from him isn't the same, yet it feels like the difference is so minor it might as well not exist at all.

But then the ache in Gwen’s chest grows and grows just thinking about Miles’ easy eyes; she doesn't want to do the better thing. She doesn’t want to say she can't do it, to hand it off to someone else, doesn't want to see Jessica's disappointment. She wants to go, to see Miles, to prove she can.

Maybe it's why Gwen has always been drawn to kindness, because the right thing doesn’t come as easy to her, because she needs to be near it to feel its warmth, let it seep into her skin, stain her fingers. A pattern she can recognise, slurred sentence in her mouth she can at least finish.

The portal opens with a loud whirl of sounds. Gwen doesn't let herself think twice before stepping through it.

#my writing #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #hobie brown #atsv