#this one doesn't really apply to me but I figured I'd make it

[colleendoran]

How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

#snow glass apples #chivalry #neil gaiman #drawing

[ddejavvu]

can i request a derek fic where readers also in BAU and they’re married and everytime someone says “morgan” both her and derek turn around or show up and the teams figuring out how to differentiate the morgan’s and dereks just all smug like “yeah she’s MY wife”

i love you’re writing btw!!!🩷

"Morgan?" Penelope calls from the kitchen, "You're scheduled for a retake of your ID photo today at 12!"

The responses she gets are a, 'What?' from you, and a, 'What'd you say?' from your husband. You blink bewilderedly at him, and relish the way that his grin lights up the room between you, like a sunbeam shot into your chest.

"Oh, not you," Penelope huffs, peering over the open door of the fridge to glance between you two, "I meant the pretty one!"

"That doesn't narrow it down, babygirl," Derek raises an amused brow at her, drumming his pen on the wood surface of his desk, "You talking to me or my wife?"

"Your wife!" Penelope all but snaps, "Derek, your ego is so inflated."

"It's your fault," You tease Penelope, who withdraws from the fridge with a can of soda and a slightly guilty expression on her face, "I seem to remember you answering just about a thousand of his phone calls with, 'Ahoy there, sexy'."

"Stop," She pleads regretfully, cracking the tab on her soda can with more force than she needs to, "Don't- stop! I didn't know you two were- were hitched! -were canoodling! I never would have talked about his abs if I'd known he was taken."

"It's okay," You promise her, and you really mean it, because you know for all of their sex-crazed banter, they're friends to the highest degree, and Derek is faithful to you. "Penelope, if it weren't for you, he wouldn't know how to paint nails."

"It's true," Derek nods, grabbing your hand to showcase the baby blue color he'd applied for you just yesterday, "You're my personal trainer, P.G."

She surrenders with a sigh, and you're glad that she seems to not harbor any real guilt, because you'd hate for her to be burdened with it. She leans in to peer at your hand Derek has on display, and when she looks closely at your ring finger, her nose scrunches in a grimace.

"You got it on her cuticles, Derek," She chides, disapproval apparent in her tone that makes your chest shake in a gleeful laugh, "Have I taught you nothing?"

#derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan one-shot #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan headcanon #derek morgan headcanons #derek morgan hc #derek morgan hcs #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fic #derek morgan blurb #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan dialogue #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan x reader fanfiction

[jazeswhbhaven]

Maybe I want Him to Bite...(Lucifer Selfie Card Prologue React III) *Spoilers*

You know the drill lovelies...back it up to part 2 if this is the first part you're seeing!! ->

From there you can be linked back to Part 1 if you haven't read that first either. If you've read both, yay you made it to the final part! Let's goooo (༎ຶꈊ༎ຶ╬)

Alright so let's see what' this goofy ahh bitch did...

We done broke all the rules up in here and I'm-

Good LORD he looks like that????

I was startled because I'm like oh no boo you gonna have to warn me before you pull a "jeff the killer, creepypasta, the rake, smile dog" on me. /j

LMAO I can hear this even though MC doesn't have a set voice.

And everyone else was silent asf like not saying a goddamn thing. Even Gamigin who's usually loud as fuck was saying nothing. LMAO

Yes MC, you did. All in order too like? XD Even though this is some shit I'd do personally, I would also be like "Oh damn I didn't die??"

And Lucifer was like "What are you talking about?" and MC was panicking trying to get an answer from the nobles being like hello????? but silently and Marbas and Morax hit em' with the-

"Ah so staring at him and touch his snake doesn't do anything. Got it."

This would have been me.

Because what do you mean?????? YOU HAD RULES AND WAS JUST THROWING MC OUT THERE WITHOUT CONFIRMATION????

This is why I have trust issues. Lol

So it turns out Lucifer was reacting the way he was out of being startled, not because he was going to end someone's life. But I think we all know what he looks like when he actually is out here in murder mode. The event was clear in that regard.

So Lucifer calms down the snake on his clothing, and MC comes up to also touch it out of curiosity. So this tells us, the snake doesn't really cause any harm per say...but I'm sure it does something more so give Lucifer the power to do something.

Snake boi

MC apologizes and well Lucifer doesn't really understand why for a moment (he does laugh at the action though mostly from amusement). But MC lets it be known that they are apologizing to the snake and him.

WAIT WAIT WAIT "Child of Adam?????" AYO? I need more lore about why he said that, which I can only guess why he said that. (and honestly, now I'm thinking of Adam from Hazbin Hotel lmao)

But I mean, this statement just shows he's a least learning to observe MC for their own personality. Not Solomon's.

MC is confused tho, but Lucifer is like "You're amusing"

ANd then????

HE BITE?????

HE BITEEE

h e

b i t e

Stop. Why is this so hot?

HES SO GODDAMN HOT????? BITE ME SOME MORE????!?!?!?!

SO AFTER HE BITES MC HE ORDERS THEM TO TOUCH HIM?

And this is where I was freaking out on that post. Because I had a headcanon I didn't share here, that because of Lucifer's power he could basically order you to do whatever and you'd have to carry that out.

i.e. If he said you aren't allowed to touch yourself ever unless I give you permission, that means no matter how horny you are you can't get off or do anything until he says so and that brings in a whole new kind of foreplay/dominance type thing where literally his word is to be followed. But at the same time....there could be loopholes if you're smart enough to figure them out and want to be a brat.

Whoever gets his card and unlocks the rest of the story?? I'll be waiting patiently.

Okay, so I'm gonna say that from this prologue alone, his selfie card is possibly the best selfie story out of the 5 kings. I was vibin' with Mammon's but this one rightchea? Phew. Mostly because I wanna see how Luci gets down and it already seems like his venom is some kind of aphrodisiac. Because sheesh MC was getting worked up and horny quite immediately from being bitten and you know what?

I wonder if you can extract the venom and have it applied to foods for the same effect...(Don't tell Bimet he'd capitalize on that shit)

But man. I told you all that once his card released I'd probably stop caring about Juno and transition over and well that happened. (still gonna do the reader fic though)

It's funny also that I did this prologue faster than I did his event which I STILL have yet to post about. lol

But as always lovelies, I thank you for sticking through my crazy reacts

-your lovely admin ♥( ˆ⌣ ˆԅ)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer #whb paradise lost bois 🤍 #whb gamigin #whb spoilers #L card spoilers #whb selfie cards #part three had a lot of gifs which is fine because lol

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting into a fight with my old boss for replacing me?

I (M19) worked for this guy (M late-30s) as a teenager for a couple of years in a very physically laborious job. I had a pretty shitty home life, and I came to see him as kind of a father figure. He was a bit gruff but was one of the only people who supported and looked after me. He helped me with school, taught me the ropes of the job, and consistently gave advice and backup when needed at work. Most importantly though, he helped me get out of my home situation, which is something I will always be grateful for. I tried my best to make him proud and be helpful to him.

However, while working there, I had an accident that prevented me from working for a while. I won't go into detail, because it would take time and I also don't want to get too gruesome, but I suffered major physical harm and couldn't work, go to school, or really do anything. It wasn't his fault at all, but he was the one that found me after it happened. I think he blames himself for what happened to me. It devastated me, because I really loved working there and working with him, and don't blame him for what happened.

I didn't see him for a while after the accident. In the time it took for me to recover and to be deemed okay to work again, I was desperate to return and see him again. It's actually a miracle I was able to work at all, as the professionals I'd seen all thought there was no hope for me. However, when I did go to see him, I realized that he had hired someone else for my role while I was gone.

To be clear, I hadn't applied for a job with him. He didn't have a job posted or anything, but knew about my home situation and offered me a chance to get away from my family and make some money by basically acting as his assistant.

So he didn't need to hire this other guy (M15), he could've left my position free for me to return to or just got rid of the job entirely. It doesn't help that he acted the same way with this other kid that he used to act with me, like some kind of a father figure/mentor. This other kid even looks like me, it's actually creepy. For all intents and purposes he replaced me.

Furthermore, the thing that caused my accident in the first place hadn't been removed either, which is just neglectful and puts others in danger.

I got so angry and jealous that I lashed out and took over Gotham's criminal underground, naming myself after the old alias of his greatest enemy, the Red Hood, and masterminded a plan to fuck him over. I beat up my replacement while wearing my old uniform, and told my old boss, Batman 🦇, that he could either kill me or kill the thing that caused my accident - or death - which was the Joker 🤡. He choose the Joker, so I blew up the building we were in.

In retrospect, I wonder if I might've overreacted slightly, so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #unreality #batman #red hood #good enough to post on purpose

[ask-spiderpool]

Ngl ,i love your work,but it rubs me wrong how Peter's discomfort w venom doing sexual things without Peter's consent or knowledge is treated as a joke,or just generally kind of dismissed. Also- I'm autistic and love love love autistic peter parker hc,but the fact he was called 'on the spectrum' soley because he got upset at venom for this and 'couldn't put himself in venoms shoes' also kind of felt really bad.

ough, bless you anon! I really appreciate you vocalising your thoughts and concerns in a really sincere respectful way. I want to respond so you don't feel unheard!

I'd also like to take this chance to say that the actions of one Wade W. Wilson do not reflect the thoughts of the ask-spiderpool moderator. The ask-spiderpool moderator does not condone his words or actions. He is a bad man. The words he's saying are bad.

Deadpool is definitely playing the role of a villain here, and he's kind of intentionally choosing his words with the intention of punishing Peter and invalidating him. He knows what he's doing. And Spider-man knows it too.

I know it's something a lot of people don't like to see from Wade – but it's a part of his character that I find interesting to explore and to see him eventually overcome. His ability to weaponise everything, and his instinct of self-sabotage. It becomes dangerous territory to write sometimes because people generally want to side with Deadpool and believe he'll do no wrong, but - I don't know, to strip him of all his ugliness would be untrue to him. Similarly with Peter – I guess I'm just really interested in parts of Wade and Peter that you don't really get to see explored in fanon very often.

It's kind of a problem though that yeah - when you write this sort of a thing there's the risk of people who don't look at it critically - so you get people idolising or siding with Deadpool when what he's doing is really bad actually. It's kind of a miracle, the sorts of things Wade gets away with, while Peter's attacked for it - and that's something I kind of like to examine, too.

I think I do have a responsibility to make this blog feel safe, but also challenging and interesting - and I think I'll be working hard to kind of find a balance between the two. I'm still trying to figure it out - to write what I find interesting, knowing my own intentions but knowing it probably will be misinterpreted – or writing something else that is easy and pleasing to everyone (not really my bag, and also near impossible!), or just not write at all (also impossible for me! Got a brain-itch to scratch...)

I really appreciate when people read my writing and see what I'm getting at – but it doesn't always happen, and it isn't really anyone's fault. I kind of like to offer explanations and further meta, and the fics, because I love to be understood - and the server where I love to have discussions with people about how they receive these posts. The reason I love running this blog is the discussions I have with people about it. The back-and-forth, and so I really do love people to look at Wade and Peter a little deeper.

I have a genuine interest in autistic Peter and it's something I want to explore further in a sincere light, this is kind of just the first tease of something I want to explore more later, if the asks permit. I think every Peter Parker is autistic-coded - I've written a little bit about it here! I'm no expert on diagnosis - but as fantastical as ask-spiderpool can get sometimes - I kind of always want what Wade and Peter are going through in their heads to feel real and tangible and understandable, and come from a place of sincerity.

The consent issue is a complicated one – (as is the way with applying real-world-logic to the realm of alien sex with what you thought was just a slick space-age onesie...) Peter's relationship with the symbiote occupies more of a realm of metaphor than anything - and I don't think there's any sort of 1-to-1 comparison to the real world. (Has your sex-toy ever gained sentience and passed judgement upon you? Peter Parker's worst nightmare!)

There is a running theme of Peter kind of having his boundaries crossed - and the symbiote is sort of tied to that theme. The symbiote was entirely responsive to Peter's thoughts and didn't do anything Peter didn't will it to do - the real issue is the mortifying ordeal of being perceived. And it's a running theme with Peter - he hides so much and very often his privacy is violated.

It's often played for laughs, because Deadpool doesn't always take Spider-man's boundaries seriously and likes to push him – but it's something that will come to a head, and Peter will be laying down the law very soon.

I'm really thankful for your message anon, and I really hope this response reaches you with similar sincerity that you reached out to me with and that I'm understood! - I love you so much anon! My DMs over on @sciderman are also open if you'd like to talk to me more!

#mod speaks

[judasofsuburbia]

nancy wheeler's no homewrecker but hearing robin ramble about what to do for her next date with vickie made her really want to be one. not that robin and vickie were even official-- not really--but it seems like nancy has become the confider of all of robin's romantic panic and it was beginning to tear her up inside.

she wanted to be the one that shared a milkshake with robin or slap her money down first for the movie tickets. she wondered why steve couldn't be this all-knowing date decipher for the girl but she wasn't about to shove robin away either.

"so tomorrow's date three," nancy says with a teasing inflection.

robin's picking at the holes in her jeans with trembling fingers. "y-yep, date three. big deal."

"i think so," nancy says, going for encouraging but probably sounding patronizing by the way robin's eyes flash up to her.

"what would you expect from a third date?" robin asks.

nancy adjusts herself on the couch while she thinks. "well...it depends. if they've already kissed me before, probably some making out in their car. heavy petting if things are going well. i'd expect a longer date too."

robin's eyes are as wide as saucers. "b-but i haven't kissed her yet."

nancy blinks in surprise. she's not sure why she's surprised, figuring robin would have probably told her already all the intricate details of the way vickie kisses.

"no?" nancy asks.

robin shakes her head rapidly, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"that's okay," nancy says slowly. "this would probably be the date to kiss her, though."

"fuck," robin mumbles. "you're right."

her tone hits nancy like a freight train. "you haven't kissed anyone before, have you?"

robin rolls her lips into her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. her nails are digging into those holey jeans, ripping the threads one by one. pop. pop. pop.

nancy instinctively grabs robin's hands to keep her from digging into skin. robin's eyes open and they're scared shitless. nancy squeezes robin's hands and smiles tenderly.

"it's gonna be okay," nancy assures. "a quick goodnight peck is easy."

robin groans. "i'm fucking nineteen years old. if i kiss her all clumsy, she's gonna know and everything will be ruined and i'll never find love and die an old spinster with a hoard of cats that'll eat my dead body for sustenance."

nancy's nose wrinkles at the visual but she laughs gently. "stop it. kissing is simple if you pay attention. vickie's kissed someone before so you just kind of follow her lead."

"follow her lead?" robin asks.

is nancy going to do this? is she really going to do this?

"do you want me to show you?" nancy blurts.

robin's eyes grow even wider and her fidgety body goes completely still. "w-what?"

nancy's really gonna do this, huh?

"doesn't have to mean anything," nancy says quickly. "just...practice."

"practice," robin repeats lamely.

oh lord, she's really gonna do this.

"would it settle your nerves?" nancy asks.

robin thinks for a moment but inevitably nods her head.

"then i can teach you," nancy says with as much confidence as she can muster.

"o-okay," robin stutters. "can i get some chapstick first?"

nancy lets go of her hands and nods. nancy goes to dig in her purse too. they settle back down on the couch and slowly apply some chapstick to their lips. when they make eye contact, the two girls burst into small giggles and nudge each other with their elbows. nancy gets on her knees on the couch and robin moves to mimic her stance. robin's breathing heavily and her eyes are darting all over the place.

nancy taps her knee and says, "robbie, we don't have to--"

"what's step one?" robin interrupts with a shy smile.

nancy exhales shallowly and scoots closer. she holds up a tentative hand to robin's cheek and tucks her hair behind her ear. "okay, so, there's a build-up. the moments before the kiss. you could be anywhere when this happens, really, but it's important to read people's expressions."

"i'm terrible at that," robin whines.

"check for simple things, then," nancy says calmly. "like if her eyes dart down to your lips." nancy demonstrates a few times and watches robin's eyes follow her movement. "or if she moves closer to talk to you." nancy leans her face in and sees how robin's face gets a little flushed. "she might even ask you if it's okay to kiss you."

"s-she would?" robin whispers.

"maybe," nancy whispers. "can i kiss you, robbie?"

robin nods again.

"so she'll lean in," nancy whispers, her lips now a breath away from robin's. nancy tries to stay in the zone but she's drifting slowly. wrapped up in robin's orbit. "and gently...kiss you."

nancy presses her lips delicately to robin's. a small peck before leaning back. "see? simple," nancy whispers breathlessly as her heart pounds against her ribs.

"do i...press back?" robin whispers.

"mhm," nancy hums. "i'll kiss you again and you press back, okay?"

nancy kisses her again and robin hesitantly moves her lips against hers. it's not as uncoordinated as nancy was anticipating, but it lasts a little long. nancy moves her lips again, pressing repeatedly to keep things moving. all gentle pecks. robin gets the gist after the first few and follows her lead, just as she instructed earlier. nancy knows they're getting carried away here but she can't will herself to pull away. not yet.

robin's confidence ramps up and she holds nancy's cheek. nancy hums contently and kisses her deeper. lips slotting on top of each other softly and languidly. robin is the first to pull away, taking in large breaths and nancy's about to speak but robin just pulls her back in.

"don't," nancy pants against robin's lips. "forget to breathe."

"yeah," robin murmurs, dazed.

nancy wonders if she should say more but instead, she follows her impulse to suck gently on robin's bottom lip. robin gasps and holds nancy's face closer, tilting her head to sink further into nancy's mouth. nancy tastes her chapstick, root beer flavored, which is so fun and so sweet and so robin it makes her brain spark.

her tongue pokes out and robin drops her jaw enough but nancy hesitates.

"um," nancy whispers. "is this okay? can i--"

"please," robin begs quietly and then clears her throat. "i mean, show me, um, if you want to."

nancy grins, she can't help it. she uses her grip on robin's face to coax her mouth open again and she traces her bottom lip delicately before dipping behind robin's teeth. robin moans and presses her tongue up against nancy's. it's all so slow and intentional that it heats up their bodies, quickens their heartbeat, and heightens everything.

eventually, they're laying down on nancy's couch, sinking into each other, kissing kissing kissing until their lips are puffy and numb. the friendliness of this exchange, if there ever was any, has completely vanished.

as nancy continues their "practice" down robin's neck, robin knows she’s gotta cancel on vickie. because there’s no way robin wants to kiss anybody else after this.

#emily writes #thinking about women kissing on this fine evening!!!!!!! #ronance #ronance ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fics #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

[fereldanwench]

So back in March or so, I applied to be a part of the closed beta phase for Tumblr's new community feature rolling out, and my Cyberpunk 2077 virtual photography community was accepted!

(pls don't judge the banner, i had to throw together something really quick for the submission and admins can't update community settings yet 😭)

This is a public community, which means when the feature goes live to everyone, anyone can view it and join without a special invitation. For right now, though, I can only invite 25 people* to be members. I've already invited a few folks who I know love VP, and I'd like to open up 10-12 invitations to the broader community!

*I can request more spaces once I hit the limit, and I'll make an update when those become available.

Shortly after I posted this, our member count was increased to 500, so we have plenty of room for anyone interested!

EXPECTATIONS FOR MEMBERS

You do NOT need to be following me to join.

You do NOT need to be a ~*virtual photography expert*~ to join. Newb or veteran, PC or console, mods or vanilla--Doesn't matter! If you enjoy the artform, you're welcome here!

You DO need to be at least somewhat active on Tumblr. I'd like to invite folks who: - Post at least one new CP77 virtual photography image a week - Have daily reblogs of other CP77 posts (VP, gifs, art, meta, etc) Note: This will not be a permanent requirement as the community feature grows, but since space is limited, I want to ensure the first invitations go to the folks who will make the most of them.

You DO need to be willing to deal with beta phase hiccups and growing pains. This is a new beta feature on Tumblr--We have encountered, and will continue to encounter, Hellsite™️ nonsense, both in terms of technical issues and figuring out how to best use the space. (For example: a part of the reason I've put off sending out a bunch of invitations at once was because, until recently, it was getting people shadow-banned, lmao.)

You DO need to join with a main account--Sideblogs can't join yet. As I understand it, this is something Tumblr wants to change in the future, but right now, invitations can't be sent to sideblogs. You'll have to be comfortable posting and interacting under your main account to join.

HOW TO APPLY

Just send me an ask* telling me you're interested! I'll reply privately when the invitation has been sent. If all the slots are full, I can put folks on a waiting list for when I can get the member count increased.

*Mutuals can DM me, but I think my current settings prevent anyone whomst I don't follow from messaging me, so asks are the best way to go.

#tumblr communities #tumblr community #cyberpunk 2077 #virtual photography #cp2077 screenshots #cp2077edit #g: cyberpunk 2077 #t: wench.txt

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 1) "transmission"

gif by me, moodboard by the lovely @sp00kymulderr ♥

pairing: frankie morales/nb!oc (they/them) rating: T (for now) chapter warnings: discussions of sexuality/gender (frankie doesn't understand some things and may use language that would be harmful, but it's not intentional), limited knowledge of the military, goth stereotypes abound, mentions of drug addiction/recovery, swearing, cute shit word count: 2.7k dividers by @saradika

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary and turn on alerts ♥

series summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

a/n - i can't thank y'all enough for giving my fic a chance! i'm really nervous about posting it since i haven't properly written anything in years, but i've had some lovely cheerleaders (@scenaaario - who is also my lovely beta, i want to kiss you on the mouth for making this fic sound like i wanted it to ♥♥ - @undercoverpena @mrsquill and @kedsandtubesocks i love you guys ♥) along the way that gave me the motivation to post this little story. comments and reblogs are super appreciated! i'd love to hear what y'all think <3

In 1994, the U.S. adopted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as the official federal policy on military service by lesbian, gay and bisexual individuals. It was officially repealed in 2011. Seventeen years. For seventeen years, LGBTQ folks, Frankie included, had to hide. At least, he felt he needed to.

He knew he was bisexual when he and his childhood best friend Mateo were in their sophomore year of high school. Frankie and all the other boys started to hit puberty the year before and things were changing: facial hair was slowly growing, voices were dropping.  Mateo started to develop a little faster than Frankie did. Frankie really liked how Mateo was developing. It was a little weird, because they’d been best friends since they were still wearing underoos, but Frankie started to feel things whenever he hung out with Mateo. Things he normally only felt whenever Alana in third period flipped her hair over her shoulder, or whenever Charlotte in fifth period stretched before she started writing and her sweater pulled over her chest a little too much.

Frankie didn’t know what to do with this information or these feelings. He didn’t have a word for any of it, so he just never said anything. He had a couple girlfriends throughout high school, and to anyone who cared to think on it, would see that Frankie was like any other straight, high school boy.

In 1994, Francisco Morales joined the military. He was nineteen. It was never his plan growing up to join, but his dad always wanted him to. When he didn’t have his own plan after high school, he figured it was a safe bet since he had family in the service. While there, he worked his way up in the ranks and eventually met his brothers: Santiago, Benny, Will, and Tom. They would die for each other, had signed up to do so, in fact. He’d grown closest to Santiago, and it was the first time since he was 15 that he got those feelings again. He pushed them to the side, though, because that’s when she came into his life. He didn’t need those feelings getting in the way.

Frankie’s bisexuality really only came into his life a couple of times. His first girlfriend in the military, Layla, was also bisexual and that’s when he learned what the word was and that it also applied to him. She only ever told him since Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in full swing. Of course he kept her secret, because she also kept his.

The only one of his group of brothers that didn’t know about his sexuality was Tom. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him, and the others agreed it was best to keep it quiet. Santiago was the first one to know, then Will, and finally Benny. Ben was Ben about it when he found out. He immediately hugged Frankie and excitedly suggested they go to a gay bar instead of their usual hang out. It made Frankie laugh and Will smacked Ben on the back of the head. (They did end up going to a couple of gay bars from time to time. Frankie only went home with a guy once and the guys gave him a lot of shit for it, asking for details. Santiago gave him a smile and patted him on the back and said, “I’m glad you’re finally here, hermano.”)

Frankie had one man he’d consider a “boyfriend” in his life. After he left the military and after DADT was repealed, he went on a bit of a binge. He started hooking up with people more often, despite his introverted nature. He was always careful, safe, and eventually kept to one man for a couple years, before an especially messy breakup.  They were both pilots in the military, but were based in different states; Frankie in Florida, and Jackson in Kentucky. They bonded quickly after meeting at a nightclub in Nashville. Neither one of them remembers why they were there, but they made it a point to see each other frequently, each of them taking turns flying out to see the other.

The breakup happened after Jackson found Frankie’s stash for the last time. The military affected everyone differently. For Frankie, his coke addiction is what got him through the sleepless nights. Jackson had found Frankie one too many times leaned over the back of a toilet and snorting god knows what. Jackson had his own problems with drugs and felt that Frankie ignored them in search of his next fix. Addiction had completely taken over Frankie’s life for the better part of five years. Frankie hated Jackson for leaving him when he most needed him, and lashed out, accusing Jackson of only ever wanting to fuck. That broke Jackson, as he thought about how deeply he loved Frankie. Gay marriage was legalized a year later, and had things panned out differently, they might still be together. He doesn’t blame Jackson for leaving anymore.

Frankie’s daughter, Marisol, changed everything. She was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. After going back to his days of sleeping around after Jackson left, he met Maya. He kept telling her that he would get clean and go to therapy while she was pregnant, but not until he held his little Marisol in his arms for the first time did he commit to both. He and Maya never planned on being together officially, and decided co-parenting would be their best option. 

He’d been clean and sober for two years by the time Santi told him about the Colombia job. He hadn’t flown, or been allowed to in that time, and was pretty content to never do so again. Every time he got in the pilot’s seat, it would take him to terrible places. But Santi was his best friend, so he took the job. He relapsed when he got home, after Tom. He never blamed Santi for it. He gave Frankie a choice, and where he could’ve said no, he didn’t.

Which brings him to where he is now, two years after Colombia. He’d crossed the street and stood in line for the entrance. He hadn’t been to this nightclub in a while. He looked up at the sign for the club, and raised an eyebrow. The Night Owl. That… isn’t what it was called last time. Was it sold? Apparently, it had recently undergone a rebranding, with new owners, and a slightly… different clientele. 

The best way he could describe it now was that it was a goth club. Frankie had never personally been to this sort of club, not really being a fan of the music or subculture, but never had a negative opinion either. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered, the bouncer giving him a once over and chuckling, but letting him in anyway. 

He made his way over to the bar and had a seat, taking in his surroundings and started people watching. He planned on going out tonight, and possibly go home with someone. A club is a club, so he decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. 

The walls shook with the heavy bass and beats of the music. It wasn’t like anything he’d heard before. His nostrils filled with the scent of clove cigarettes and hairspray. Everywhere he looked, someone completely decked out in teased hair and black clothing caught his attention. He smiled softly at all the variations in people’s style, wondering how long it took for all of them to get ready in the morning.

The bartender, a large man with heavy eye makeup and a lot of chains and spikes, came up to him and smirked. He felt a presence behind him and when Frankie finally faced forward again, he startled a little, not expecting such an imposing figure to be giving him a staredown.

“What’ll you be havin’, stripes?”

“Stripes?”

The bartender, who had a patch sewed onto his denim vest that read “Viper”, rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to Frankie’s whole self. “You mean to tell me you’re not military?”

Frankie blinked a couple times and huffed a laugh. “Ex-military, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Viper gave him a long look, eyes slightly narrowed, and pointed to one of the many tattoos on his arm, up high on his shoulder. It was an old one, a little faded, but Frankie recognized it as the stripes given to Sergeant Majors.  “I left after this. Got injured,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Viper shrugged and reached under the bar, cleaning a glass. “I’m not. So what’re you havin’?”

Frankie thought about it for a second. “I’ll probably regret this, but surprise me.”

An amused look crossed Viper’s features, but he nodded and started mixing a drink for him. Frankie noticed all the ingredients used; lager beer, hard cider, and some kind of syrup. He raised a brow and picked up the glass as Viper slid it across the bar for him. Frankie gave him a look as if to say, ‘Is this safe?’ despite having just watched Viper make it. The bartender chuckled and just gestured for him to give it a try.

Frankie took a deep breath and gulped down a drink. A little foam was stuck to his mustache when he lowered the glass from his face. “Not bad. What is it?” Frankie asked.

“Snakebite. Kind of a staple around here,” Viper hummed, cleaning a different glass.

Frankie chuckled at the name. Of course that’s what it was called. 

Viper was pulled away when a pretty girl with big, teased hair and dark makeup came up to the bar. Frankie took the opportunity to look around the place again.

The music was best described as “dark” and “broody”, unsurprisingly, with slow tempos and even lower vocals. Everyone on the dancefloor was slowly swaying back and forth and, once in a while, would move their arms in ethereal shapes. 

Frankie remembered seeing one of the younger teachers at Marisol’s daycare wearing a t-shirt with a band logo that looked like a bundle of sticks. He tried figuring out what it said once, but was too afraid to ask, so he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’d be at this kind of club.

“You’re new. Bit like a zoo your first time here, I bet.”

Frankie startled, putting his hand over his heart and turned to look at who was talking. Someone had sat next to him and was grinning, taking a sip from their own drink; something dark red and a little cloudy. He blinked a couple times and took in their features; big green eyes rimmed with dark lines, two different nose piercings, and black lipstick. Their hair was long and straight, dark, and with the right side in front of their ear shaved completely. He couldn’t quite figure out if who he was talking to was male or female, the androgyny of their look very clear.

“Uhh, hello?” They waved their hand, full of rings and black nail polish, in front of his face and chuckled quietly. “Oh! Maybe–” They cut themselves off and started making a bunch of symbols and shapes with their fingers and hands.

Frankie blinked and started laughing softly. “I’m not deaf! Sorry,” he grinned. “You just startled me, that's all.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed, too, putting a hand on his right knee in a friendly gesture. He looked down at the hand and smiled, his heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn’t know very much about them, he couldn’t deny it; they were very pretty.

He removed his cap and ran his fingers through the unruly curls for a second before putting the hat back on. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I didn’t realize the club had changed owners.”

“It did?” They asked, tilting their head to the left slightly. 

“Yeah, it was a– Uh, last time I was here, it was a… different kind of club,” Frankie mumbled. 

The stranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, the smirk still present on their lips. “What kind of club? Are you secretly into some really heavy BDSM type stuff?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

Frankie had started taking a drink of his Snakebite again and nearly choked on it at the stranger’s teasing. He coughed a couple times, a wide grin on his face. “No! Nothing like that,” he chuckled.

The stranger snapped their ring-clad fingers like they were hoping he’d say otherwise and slumped their shoulders in disappointment. “Damn…”

Frankie’s cheeks warmed at the insinuation, but laughed, convinced they were just joking with him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Y-Yeah, uh, I wasn’t expecting this kind of… group, when I came by. Although, the name of the place probably should’ve warned me.”

“What kind of group?” The stranger grinned, watching his handsome features change from thoughtful to concerned.

Frankie panicked, worried he’d somehow offended them, and cleared his throat again. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with– Um! I don’t, actually… know,” he tapered off, looking down as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

The stranger snorted and waved him off. “I’m fucking with you,” they laughed. “I know what you mean. When I heard a new club opened up closer to my apartment, I got pretty excited. No more hour-long drives to the nearest one, y’know?”

Frankie nodded, their low, smooth voice captivating him the longer they spoke.

“Oh! Meant to say this before, but my name’s River,” they smiled and held their hand out to him to shake.

“Frankie,” he answered, holding his own hand out to return the gesture. But River beat him to it, and gripped his long, thick fingers in their own hand and kissed the back of his softly.

Frankie blushed like mad, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever kissed his hand before. He kept his eyes downcast, his hand still securely in River’s grasp.

River tilted their head, brows furrowed in concern before letting go of his hand. “Sorry, was that–?”

“No! N-No, um…” Frankie smiled shyly, tugging at a loose curl behind his ear. “It was fine– Nice, actually.”

River grinned as if they had clocked him immediately. “Well, Frankie, it was very nice meeting you. Will I see you here again?” They asked, looking him up and down.

Frankie found himself nodding before he could say or do anything else. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Um, how–?”

“My song just came on, and I simply must dance to it. Later,” River winked, stood, and leaned over to kiss Frankie’s cheek as they slipped something into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

River was gone before Frankie could ask anything else, his eyes following after them as they reached the dancefloor. He watched them dance for a few minutes before he was brought out of it by someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around and saw Viper, the bartender, leaning toward him and giving him a look.

“You gonna pay for these drinks?” He grumbled, motioning toward Frankie’s Snakebite and whatever River was drinking.

He followed Viper’s tattooed finger and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his wallet out and putting a couple bills on the bar. Viper nodded in thanks and Frankie took that as his cue to leave.

As he stood, he looked toward the dancefloor again in the hopes of seeing River one last time. When he didn’t, he tried to shake himself off and made his way toward the entrance. The bouncer gave him a look and Frankie just shrugged as he exited the club. The cool night air hit his still-warm cheeks, making him feel like he came back to reality. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled to himself and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a little scrap of paper. A phone number with two cute little devil horns drawn on either side and a little, ‘text me?’ written down beneath it.

Frankie smiled to himself and rubbed the ink on the paper with his thumb.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fluff #pedro pascal characters #oaksfics

[queer-reader-07]

a love letter to trans romance

because i can't be normal about media and i'm making it y'all's problems

hi hello and welcome to my mildly unhinged ramblings about love and gender. this post comes to you in three sections, enjoy <3

--

t4t romance novels made me believe in love again

the first romance book i ever read was The Feeling of Falling in Love by Mason Deaver. TFOFIL is a t4t (trans for trans) romance that follows a teenage trans boy, Neil Kearney, and a figuring-out-their-gender teen, Wyatt Fowler, as they get themselves wrapped up in peak YA romcom shenaniganary and eventually fall in love. cute, right? just a fun little romcom, not much more to it?

yeah well that's what i thought going in, but coming out of that book i was in tears. tears because i'd never read a story about trans love before. tears because at that point in my life i'd never allowed myself to fully claim the word "trans." tears because Wyatt made me feel so seen and so real.

there's this one scene where Wyatt is talking to Neil and they describe themself as being the kind of person who sometimes wants to wear makeup and dresses, but other times they like their body hair and scruffy beard. and i just remember nodding along and then absolutely melting because Neil takes it in stride, he comforts Wyatt and let's them know that they don't need to have it figured out just yet. Neil makes it clear that he's there, and that Wyatt doesn't need to come out to anyone unless they're ready.

Mason Deaver has another t4t romance, Okay, Cupid. and that similarly had me in my feels because there is something so special about finding people who embrace you for all that you are.

every t4t romance I've read has one thing in common, the fact that the love interests do not love each despite the other's transness. their transness is not an obstacle to love or to attraction or to adoration, it is an object of it. their transness is something to be admired and to be loved and to be cared for. it is not something the other has to "get over."

reading The Feeling of Falling in Love was the first time i ever thought to myself "maybe, just maybe, i can call myself trans and still be loved." because up until that point i hadn't let myself accept that i was some flavor of trans. up until that point i'd said "not cis" without ever saying trans because i was so scared my being trans would make me unlovable. t4t romance books showed me how wrong i was. they showed me that my ability to be loved was not dependent on my girlhood.

ha you thought i could write something this long on tumblr and NOT mention good omens? think again bestie

i have held a trans reading of crowley since i read the book and the show only solidified it for me. crowley canonically plays with gender.

he's dressed femme during the crucifixion scene, his modern look is a mix of men's and women's pieces, his hair is a Whole Thing in and of itself. i could go on but i digress.

but it's not just the way he plays with gender that informs my trans reading of him. it's also how his character arc can very easily be read as an allegory for transness.

an angel who falls (a girl who isn't a girl anymore)

a fallen angel turned demon (a girl who is a boy now)

a demon who isn't really a demon anymore (a used to be girl, a thought to be boy, is now nonbinary)

girl = angel and boy = demon is entirely arbitrary in this please don't read into it

now, you may be thinking "A how in god's name does this apply to trans romance?" to which i say, aziraphale falls in love with every version of crowley. aziraphale beams heart eyes at angel!crowley before the beginning and loves crowley as a demon for millennia and is so deeply and unabashedly in love with crowley in his not-quite-demon form of s2.

aziraphale loves all the versions of crowley because crowley's angel or demon-ness (gender) is not the reason aziraphale loves crowley. aziraphale doesn't love crowley because he's a demon or because he used to be an angel, aziraphale loves crowley because it's crowley. crowley in whatever clothes he chooses to where, crowley with whatever hairstyle he's fancying at the moment, crowley as he inhabits the shades of grey just a little more.

to me, that is so easy to read as a trans love story. you could argue it's t4t depending on how you read aziraphale, but to me, it's at the very least a love story between a mostly-demon who gets down to some gender fuckery and an angel who loves him very much.

fuck it let's talk about fanfiction

i don't think i could make this post without mentioning @ineffabildaddy's fic I'm Beginning to See the Light.

i have a complicated relationship with my body. i don't plan to ever medically transition because i don't want to make any permanent changes to my body. but there are days where all i want is to have a flat chest and hips that are flush with the rest of my body but instead i'm stuck with tits and an hourglass figure cis people always seem to focus on.

i don't hate my body, but the idea that anyone could look at it and not just see A Woman is beyond me. i walk through life being perceived as a very feminine woman even on the days that i feel the most androgynous. the idea that a lover could look at my body and still see me for who i am feels like a dream that could never happen.

and IBTSTL slapped me (lovingly) across the face with the message that, actually, i can be loved as my whole self and that there are people out there who don't look at me and see A Woman and those people don't love me any less. IBTSTL made me feel safe in my trans body because it said "you are worthy of love and adoration because your transness is not something to get past it is something to admire. it is something to love."

--

i think the point i'm trying to make here is this: trans love stories are so special to me. they've been so vital in my own journey to love and accept myself. they're the reason i can imagine myself maybe having romantic love in the future.

representation matters, it can quite literally change your life.

#well wasn't that fun? #now excuse me while i go hide from the internet because my feelings are being perceived #anyway #trans love everything! #good omens #trans books #t4t romance #trans

[weirdstrangeandawful]

What is whump?

I get asked this question a lot so I figured I'd just make a post about it! I doubt a lot of people will see this since I'm a small whump blog but at least a few people will have a quick reference.

The short answer is that whump is a fictional genre of media. Like any genre, it's difficult for one person to entirely characterise but I'll do my best.

Whump is a fictional genre focused on the experience of pain. This can be physical pain or emotional pain. The pain could be acute or chronic. The focus could be on the recovery from the pain or on the pain itself. It's a super versatile genre!

Some frequently asked questions:

Okay, but how is this different from hurt/comfort?

This is a complicated question (hard to entirely characterise an entire genre, eh?) and it really depends on the writer. For me, hurt/comfort is a subset of whump where the comfort is required whilst whump is the larger, overarching genre where comfort is not an absolute necessity, but many others have different opinions!

What is a whumpee?

You'll often hear writers (especially prompt writers) in the whump community refer to characters as 'whumpee', 'whumper', and 'caretaker'. These are placeholder names like your good old A, B, and C. 'Whumpee' refers to the character experiencing the pain (literally 'the one being whumped'); 'whumper' is the (optional) character causing or contributing to the pain; and 'caretaker' is the (also optional) character helping care for the whumpee and alleviating the pain.

Why would I support someone who thinks people should experience pain?

Pain and adversity are facts of life. In fact, many of us as whump writers and readers engage with the genre to cope with pain and adversity in our real lives. It's important to remember that whump is a fictional genre and someone's interest in the fictional themes portrayed really aren't a reflection of what goes on in their real life. The name 'whump' may be contemporary but this is definitely not a contemporary genre (Shakespearean tragedies anyone?) so there is no use criticising its existence. If you don't like it, that's okay! Scroll on by and block the #whump tag if you need to. Like many artists, we're an accepting community and won't judge. In fact, we probably understand better than most that there is too much pain in the world and not everyone wants to read about more of it.

What's the difference between whump and BSDM/kink?

This is a complicated and very individualised answer. The oversimplified answer is that BDSM and kink are explicitly sexual/sensual whilst whump is not necessarily related to sex. But that is extremely oversimplified and doesn't cover all or even most people's experiences with either whump or BDSM/kink. The most generalised answer I can give is that whump is an overarching genre whilst BDSM and kink are individualised cultural practices and activites. But even that needs nuance and context to understand and apply. For me personally, I don't like combining the two because I experience them in very different ways, but that's just my experience!

Edit: I realise that I was not clear in the above answer. BDSM and kink are absolutely not inherently sexual at all. In my personal experience, I've found there to be a lot more overlap between BDSM/kink and sexual experiences than with whump but this is not true for many and maybe most people. No one person is qualified to answer this question.

#whump #whump community #what is whump #informational post #frequently asked questions

[jina1028]

Safe Place

Park Jisung x fem!reader

Categories: idol Jisung, older reader (mention of 'noona' once), kissing, making out, marking, oral (m rec), unprotected sex (don't do it irl), creampie, cuddling, really slight dom/sub dynamics (?)

A.N. reader being older is not essential to the plot (what plot?), so if you want just ignore it since it's just randomly mentioned once.

To me the term 'noona' is just a nice way for a younger man to address a woman they're comfortable with, there's no sexual connotation and in this case is justified by the fact the story takes place in Korea. I just thought Jisung would feel nice having someone older to take care of him, hence the little mention.

Plus I'd like older readers to feel more included just adding that little word, if you're uncomfortable or doesn't apply to you just change it with 'y/n' I guess.

Note that english is not my first language.

Enjoy~

~♡~

Your phone suddenly made a dinging sound, letting you know you received a message, making you stop on your tracks while you got up from the sofa to get some water. The sound repeated a couple times. You let out a sigh before reading the name of the person who interrupted your plans and opened the message with newfound interest:

Jisung P.

'Y/n'

'Are you free right now?'

'If you're busy it's ok, I don't want to disturb'

You smiled, you found him so cute when he sent those shy messages, imagining him gnawing on his lips while staring at his phone screen, instant regret on his features thinking he's somehow annoying you, even though you reassured him before that he can message you whenever.

You start typing, unknowingly making him jolt with surprise and apprehension when he sees the dots on his screen.

You

'I'm free'

'Wanna come over?'

Jisung P.

'Can I?'

'I'll just make a quick stop at the dorm to wash up'

You

'Sure, let me know when you're downstairs'

He sent you a little thumbs up emoji and you started to make yourself as pretty as possible. When Jisung asked for your attention it meant he needed to be taken care of, and those times you wanted to spoil him by looking the best for him. So you put on some cute, soft make up and wore your lilac, lacey lingerie, then hid it under some simple sweats and t-shirt to surprise him more when you would strip.

In an hour he was at your door, you let him in examining his tall figure, hiding his face under a black mask and hoodie, dark hair almost covering his eyes.

You greeted him "Jisung! Everything ok coming here? No one followed you, right?"

"Yeah, there were a couple of sasaeng outside the company building but they couldn't follow me much in the traffic, we're good."

You led him to the sofa, letting him sit down while he yanked his mask off and let his head rest on the cushions on the back, exhaling a nervous breath. You brought some water and snacks and sat down on the other side of the sofa facing him.

"What were you doing before coming? Did something happen? You seem nervous."

"Do I?" he chuckled "I was at dance practice. It was stressful, I had a little argument about some moves and changes in the choreo. I'm not satisfied, the comeback is approaching and I feel like where we're at right now is not enough, I don't know..."

He started telling you about his concerns and you let him talk, quietly listening and occasionally humming letting him know you were paying attention.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just rambling, didn't mean to bother you" he interrupted his monologue, looking over at you with apologetic eyes.

"No, it's fine, I like when you open up to me! You know you can tell me anything, I'm not the type of person to judge."

He smiled at you, soon breaking eye contact and sheepishly thanking you.

After a moment of silence you scooted closer to him, the movement making him shift his attention from the palms of his hands to your face, unconciously looking at your lips, then back to your eyes when he caught himself staring.

"Jisung, why, of all people, did you call me so urgently tonight? Tell me."

The boy fidgeted with his hands, biting a little on his lower lip while you rested your hand on his shoulder.

"I missed you... I need you."

You closed the distance between your faces until your lips slightly brushed. You wanted to test how much he was desperate this time: enough to ignore his own shyness and press his round lips to yours with an almost inaudible whine.

Your hands flew to his hair, making a mess of it with your fingers stroking and pulling his locks, while his large ones grasped your waist. Your teeth pulled on his bottom lip and a swipe of your tongue soothed it while Jisung eagerly opened his mouth to chase it with his own, tangling them, wet sounds filling your ears.

You pushed him against the back of the sofa to straddle him, experimentally rolling your hips once on his lap, earning a small groan and feeling his member getting hard against your crotch. You started rolling, picking up a slow, comfortable rhythm. His hands grabbing at whatever he could to try and ground himself, while your lips left his mouth to place wet kisses along his jaw and his throat and neck, nibbling at his side when he let out a low moan.

"Stop it-" he was interrupted by his own gasp "you'll leave a mark like that" he struggled to end his sentence between soft hisses and gasps.

"Just tell your stylists to put make up or a band-aid on it" you replied making him snort.

"That's what I told them last time, had to tell everyone I had a bruise."

You suckled some more before gliding your tongue on the purplish mark you just made.

"Well, technically that wasn't a lie."

You detached from his neck to admire the state he was in and you almost purred at the sight: disheveled hair, glossy half lidded eyes, wet, pink, puffy lips, a soft shade of pink dusting his cheeks and a darker one on the left side of his neck.

You took a mental pic. "So pretty" you complimented, making him smile and blush more.

You smiled back and took the opportunity of this little break to get up and take his hand to guide him to your room. You pushed him down on the mattress.

"Let's get rid of some clothes" you suggested, standing in front of him, slowly raising your t-shirt to reveal your lilac bra, watching his reaction as he seemingly stopped breathing. He only let out his breath when you finally removed your pants as well.

You smirked "I'm not getting on the bed until you strip down too" arms crossed as you watch him scurry to satisfy your simple request, your eyes traveling on his slim body, reaching him and stopping his hands when they came to his boxers.

You gently pushed him to sit in the middle of the bed and slid his boxers down yourself while he timidly rised his hips to help you.

"Now relax, baby, leave everything to me."

Jisung whined at the use of that little nickname and let his head plop on the pillow, closing his eyes, waiting for your next move, for you to take care of him.

You reached up to his lips for a chaste kiss, leaving a trail down his neck, chest, stomach, feeling every rise and fall of his breath, every tremble and shiver, every little gasp until you reached his erection, stiff against his stomach, so big it reached his navel.

You grazed it with your fingers, tracing every vein up and down a few times, savoring his little hisses every time you reached the underside of his tip, swollen and red, and finally circled it with your fist, not being able to close your fingers around it because of the size.

You started stroking it slowly and languidly, paying attention to every little reaction, then you approached with your mouth, lightly fanning your hot breath over it and observing the way he shivered at the sensation, soon taking a lick on the tip to elicit a moan out of him.

You loved to hear his voice, you found it so sexy, so you used every tactic you knew to make him produce any sounds, his voice going straight from your ears to your pussy every time.

You started a nice pace, licking and sucking, taking as much as you could in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, circling what you couldn't reach with your hand and building up the rhythm based on his reactions.

You tried your best to keep your pace and look up at him, he was too pretty like this, face blushing, eyes squeezed shut, nose occasionally scrunching, so cute, lips parted, red, swollen from all the kissing and his own biting, letting out the most beautiful sounds, his shyness even now urging him to keep quiet but failing for the most part. And the dark mark you painted on his neck.

You kept sucking and pumping, tasting his salty precum, oozing out of the tip with every suck and every twist of your fist.

You could tell he was close when he started slightly humping his hips to meet your mouth, a hand snaking at the back of your head, resting in your hair, still not wanting to hurt you by forcing you on him despite you devouring him like a starved woman. So polite.

With a last suck you popped his cock out of your mouth, a whine leaving his own.

"Not yet, baby" you gently warned him, you were still not over. You climbed up his legs and straddled him once again, stroking your still clothed pussy on his length, the drenched fabric of your lace panties adding to the sensation.

Jisung's hands flew to your hips, helping you rub your clit on his shaft, his eyes wandering from your face, to your nipples peaking through your bra, to his cock appearing and disappearing beneath your swollen pussy, back up to your eyes again.

"Y/n, please, I'm close."

"Alright, hold on a little bit more, mh?" you caressed his cheek. With one hand you moved your panties to the side and with the other you spread his precum on his cock to lubricate it and aligned his tip with your hole to slowly sink down, biting your lips at the stretch. After a few moments of stillness and heavy breathing filling the room you started rocking your hips on his, wet sounds and low moans and grunts bringing you slowly but inevitably to your orgasm.

Your clenching signaled him you were close so he grabbed your hips and started pistoning up into you, hitting your sweet spot hard with each thrust, eliciting choked moans and little squeals from you.

Jisung was so lost in the feeling of your wet, hot pussy engulfing him, squeezing him, swallowing him, that he lost it the moment you reached your high with a whine and without a single thought in his head he came hard, spilling his hot, white seed inside of your clenching pussy. He kept shallowly rolling his hips in yours as he came down, little moans and gasps finding their way to your ears. He was ecstatic.

You kissed him slowly and finally you both stilled, then it hit him: this was the first time he came inside of you, the first creampie in general, actually. Wasn't this supposed to be something really intimate? Did you expect him to pull out like the other times? He guessed so, what if you got angry? Was he worthy, for you, of cumming in your pussy? He just knew he loved it and the possessive feeling that came with it, he was yours and viceversa.

He finally voiced his worries, "Noona, I'm sorry, I didn't warn you" his voice was low, his eyes looking up at yours with knitted eyebrows, silently pleading for you to not turn away from him for his mistake, as much as he would've liked to do it again and again.

You smiled, reassuring him, "Jisung, if I didn't want you to come inside I would've told you to wear a condom, right? Come here" you said softly, inviting him in your arms. Jisung slid his hands around your waist and used his weight to push you on your back, resting his head on your chest, inhaling deeply the sweet, fruity scent of your perfume mixed with your own. You started stroking his soft hair, relishing the feeling of his big hands pressing on your back, his breath on your skin, his lashes tickling you while his eyes fluttered shut.

"Stop worrying when you're with me, you know I'm your safe place."

Jisung already started dozing off listening to your heartbeat, but still managed to say one more thing before letting your soothing caresses lull him to sleep:

"I know."

#kpop smut #nct dream smut #park jisung smut #park jisung x reader #smut #fanfic #jisung x reader

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Scream For Me - Rafe Cameron Ghostface! X Reader PART 7

Warnings: language, rafe is a fucking menace, sexual innuendos and sexual tension

not proofed

HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHHEHEH

You went to sleep with your heart racing that night. You didn't know whether to call Rafe again or tell your parents, but you didn't want to set the killer after them.

After you woke up, you sent a text to Rafe.

Thanks again for staying with me last night. :)

He replied almost instantly.

It was really no problem. I'd take care of a pretty girl like you anytime. ;)

Can I repay you somehow? Get you coffee?

Are you asking me out on a date?

Your heart skips a beat as you read it. And you muster up the courage to reply...

Maybe... ;)

Your boldness makes Rafe harden in his gym shorts.

"Yo, Rafe!" Topper yells from behind him. "You getting too weak or what?" He gestures to the weights next to him.

Rafe rolls his eyes.

"You know I could benchpress two of you, shut the fuck up."

Topper just laughs.

Let's go for lunch, yeah? My treat.

He watches your text bubble appear and disappear a few times.

"Rafe! You're up." Kelce shouts.

"I'm coming!"

He sends off another text before you reply.

I'll pick you up at 1, babe.

...

You're pacing around your room, the clock ticking down until Rafe is supposed to pick you up but you can't find anything to wear. You know you shouldn't care this much, but it's Rafe. How can you not?

You find yourself calling your best friend for advice.

"Wassup?"

"OK so I mighhhhht be going on a date, and I can't tell you who it is with yet, but I really don't know what to wear. We are only going out to lunch but I still want to look pretty for him, so I just need you to help me figure out what to wear."

The other line is silent.

"WHAT?"

"SHHH. Don't freak out, I literally have ten minutes before he gets here so you need to help me now. Please."

The squealing on the other line dies down.

"Ok, are you thinking dress or shorts?"

You glance at your closet.

"I think he'd like a dress the most..."

"Hmmm ok." She is silent for a few moments. "Wait, what about the pink dress we got shopping last month? You haven't worn it yet, right?" Your eyes fall on the light pink floral dress hanging up in your closet.

"I haven't worn it because it's too short..."

"Ummmm that's perfect then. Show a little skin! It's your first date."

You stare at the dress again and ultimately decide to wear the dress.

"I'll wear it. Thanks."

"Hey!" She says before you hand up. "Call me after, I want to hear everything." You smile.

"I promise."

The call ends and you slip on the dress, changing into a white pair of panties so you can't see through the dress at all.

Your phone buzzes.

I'm outside.

"Shit." You throw on a pair of white sandals and look at your reflection one last time. You left your hair down and applied simple makeup, not wanting to scare Rafe off. You hoped Rafe would like it.

You grab your wallet and run downstairs. You can see Rafe waiting in the doorway for you. He smiles at you when you open the door and when you turn around to lock it, he lets his gaze rake shamelessly down your body, immediately noticing the short hem of your tiny little sundress. You turn around, noticing his downcast gaze, and feel your cheeks flush.

He looks up, grinning. He steps closer to you, a hand reaching up to lift your chin.

"I like your dress." His lips are closer than they were last night. Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting as you wait for his to meet yours.

They don't.

Instead, they find your cheek. You open your eyes and look up at him, cheeks flaming again.

Suddenly, his hands are on your waist.

"Were you expecting something else, babe?"

"N-no. I just um..."

He doesn't let you suffer for too long.

"Don't worry," His thumb pulls your bottom lip down. "I'll kiss those pretty lips eventually." You don't miss the way his eyes flicker down as he smirks... or the innuendo.

...

Lunch went by quickly. Rafe had taken you farther into Figure 8 and brought you to a little lunch place. Your food was long gone and the two of you had been talking the entire time. Rafe was easy to talk to. And that damn smile made you melt farther into your seat each time he did it. And you hadn't thought about those unanswered text messages from a certain blocked number at all.

"Wanna go get some ice cream?" You asked him. "My treat." Even though you had asked Rafe out today, he had insisted on paying.

"It's our first date. I'd be rude to make you pay." It had made you roll your eyes but it was sweet.

Rafe chuckles.

"Sure."

He leads you to an ice cream parlor and you order a strawberry shake. You smile at Rafe as he orders, completely oblivious as he slides his credit card to the employee. He orders the same as you.

"Can you go grab us some napkins?" He asks.

"Wait, but I was gonna-"

"Don't worry, babe." You look at the cashier for help, half expecting them to help you pay, but they just shrug in amusement. Rafe raises his eyebrows at you and you hide your blush by turning around to find the napkins.

Your phone buzzes.

That skirt is a little short, don'tcha think?

You turn off your phone and force a smile for Rafe.

...

You are sitting on the bed of Rafe's truck, sipping your milkshake. Rafe is in front of you, leaning on his truck, and has barely touched his.

He watches intently as you suck on the straw, jaw setting as you moan softly at the sweetness of the ice cream. He sets his full milkshake next to you and steps forward. He sets his big hand on your thigh and you look up at him with white eyes, straw still in your mouth.

"If you keep making noises like that babe, I'm gonna have to take you somewhere else." Your thighs press together, Rafe doesn't miss it." You glance down at his shake and a totally hormonal thought takes over your brain. You swap his full shake with your empty one, bringing it in between your bodies. You dip a finger into the whipped cream on top, bring your finger into your mouth, and moan around it.

"Well then. I guess I'll just have to drink this one too."

Rafe can hardly stand it. How fucking innocent you look while lewdly sucking on your finger. He almost pulls it from your mouth to replace it with his. A noise from behind him reminds the two of you that you are in a public parking lot.

His eyes dart around before,

"Get in the car." You bring your lips to the straw and suck, feigning confusion. You have no idea where the confidence is coming from but you know it's driving Rafe crazy.

"Why?"

"Cause I can't fuck you out here in the open, babe."

Your heart jumps.

You lick your lips and take one more sip of the shake, maintaining eye contact with Rafe the whole time.

You set it down next to your empty cup and let your hands run up his chest.

Then, you grab onto the collar of his dark blue polo and pull him closer to you, his blue eyes piercing yours. You look down at his lips, then back up to his eyes.

"Then take me somewhere private." His eyes darken and he grabs the shakes to throw in the nearest trashcan.

"Get in the fuckin' car, Y/N."

Yall ready for the next chapter? ;)

Taglist:

@iameatingmyhair @cherrrywraith @lil2023 @lcvrsheart @sophiah2253 @mila1224 @iamlilykrav @emotionalldamage @earthruled @bluuuughh @sunsetargent @kingedmund007 @iluvbunnyhops @steveharie @rafelover @tarrenshayne @stcrkeyluvr @idktheusual @eddiemunson86 @taylorswiftloversera @wh0r3-for-klaus @veescorneroftheworld @wildwallflower24 @poge-life @fuckmelikestilesstilinski @user556677889900 @lonnielain @sachaa-ffff @xhaliemax @kravitzwhore @coryisagee @multidimensionalslut @fratboyharrysgf0201 @iheartthe90s @settingmoxn @lewisroscoelove @hannahxhoney @iluvcatslolol @x2skyler @user36376373 @kkmstblog @kinokorii @pickingviolets @somebodys-enola @bloody-mf-bsc @rafesxgold @img-stilinski24 @nmedina8611 @tahliac11 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @bru1sedhe3rt @byarmstrongs @lulu-lovesellie @hyunightt @20braced22 @alimaythings @angelofcigs @crazyf0robx @rafesmoon @shinypeachcherryblossom @elliemae @dilvcv @surazim @baby19sthings @angelpink333 @thisismaemae @paolastarkeyyy @moonlightdivine

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks #rafe smut #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe ghostface #rafe cameron ghostface

[newtype-difference]

Hey people, so I was trying to find out a way of immersing myself in mecha even more and I settled on the idea of making funny little reviews about the gundam kits I've built on my blog so here it is tee hee

(Very minor spoilers for Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury season 1 episode 6 ahead)

I present to you:

Demi Trainer A.K.A baby's first gundam kit

This is what kickstarted my addiction to building these little guys and honestly it was such a blast as my first experience with it! I saw the HG (1/144) model of this mobile suit in a nerd shop I was in that I was told had these kits and I figured it was a good starting point. I liked the idea of the training mech from g-witch acting as training wheels for me building these kits.

Fun Facts About the Demi Trainer

the MSJ-121 Demi Trainer is a mobile suit seen in The Witch From Mercury series, and is primarily used by students in Asticassia as a mobile suit to train with (hence the name Demi Trainer)

The Demi Trainer is just one model in a series of other Demi mobile suits! Other Demi models we see throughout the series are the MSJ-OP122 Demi Garrison (seen early on when Suletta Mercury's Gundam Aerial is being detained after her first duel), the MSJ-R122 Demi Barding, which is a more advanced model of mobile suit, equipped with more armaments, while still maintaining the Demi model philosophy. There's also Chuchu's iconic MSJ-105CC Demi Trainer, which is an older model that has been heavily modified by Chuchu in order to compete with more modern iterations of Demi mobile suits.

Our primary experience with Demi Trainer in the show is when Suletta Mercury is tasked with piloting one as part of her spotting exam, where she has a particularly difficult time passing it. It honestly made me feel really sad when I watched it for the first time :(

The Design of Demi Trainer

I really love how this mobile suit looks! It's a very simple design but I feel it's so effective at conveying it's primary purpose: to be a baseline training model for mobile suits. It's a lightweight mobile suit with minimal modifications done to it so that it can achieve high mobility and it's easy to maintain. It also looks very much like something a company would mass-produce for an institution like Asticassia.

Demi Trainers are used with a standard set of equipment, which includes a simple shield, a beam gun for ranged combat, a saber stick for melee combat, a combat knife, as well as the Daedalus multi-tool, which can be shaped and transformed into a variety of tools. This makes Demi Trainer a very versatile mobile suit, appropriate for use in many different situations. It doesn't seem to come with any sort of flight module, though that makes sense, as I imagine those are quite expensive to include on mobile suits, and this is meant as a simple trainer mech.

Of course, since it's heavily used in Asticassia, Demi Trainer also has an equipable antenna module for use in duels within the academy.

The Demi mobile suits are known for their extensive customisability, and the Demi Trainer is no different! You can even see these aspects within the design of this mobile suit. There are many little slots and places where you can modify Demi Trainer and potentially add modules or armaments, and you can see the extent of this modification in Chuchu's modified Demi Trainer, despite it being an older model. I'd really love to see what kind of modifications other student in the academy would apply to their Demi Trainers!

Building the Kit

My experience with building this gunpla kit was a blast! I was so excited to get started on this, and the kit did not disappoint! It wasn't too complex so that I was overwhelmed, but it also wasn't so simple that I was bored. Hearing all the clicks and feeling the pieces snap together as I built it was extremely satisfying, and I really like how the instruction booklet was structured.

You're not told to put individual parts of the mobile suit together until you've built a number of modules beforehand. For example, the instructions tell you to build the head, body and arms before telling you to put those parts together, and I think that makes the experience more satisfying. The same structure applies for the waist and legs of the kit, and being able to put all of the parts together at the end is such a good feeling! Of course, you can totally ignore the structure of the booklet and put parts together as you build them, which is also fine.

The kit also comes with a variety of stickers, and with the help of hindsight after having built 2 more kits after this one (which I also plan on reviewing), I can confidently say that the stickers for the Demi Trainer are probably the easiest to apply based on my limited experience! You get a small choice of stickers too, mainly a choice of what colour you want the middle torso portion to be. Of course, I picked purple because it's my favourite colour, but other choices also include red, blue, yellow and pink.

At one point while building this kit, I tried to take a part out so I could hear and feel the click of it again as I assembled it, but I accidentally applied too much force into it and the piece snapped, which make me panic but thankfully I had some glue to repair it, which was a huge relief. Not a fault of the kit itself, just my own excitement getting the better of me! Though I will recommend to be careful when assembling these kits if you're not experienced, and be gentle with them.

I was so so happy when the kit was finished and I could play around with it! Building it is half the fun, and the other half is posing it in all sorts of cool ways! You've seen some pictures of that already, but I also have some gifs of the kit spinning on a little turntable saved for the end.

The HG Demi Trainer kit comes with just the shield, saber stick and beam gun that I mentioned previously, which I personally don't mind too much but of course having more options for equipment is always a good thing. Thankfully you can buy an expansion set for Demi Trainer that includes a beam rifle, gatling gun, combat knife, 4-cell hand missile launcher and open hand parts, as well as some smaller extras. I personally don't have this expansion kit but I would love to get it at some point!

Overall, I think this is a fantastic kit to build, particularly if you are new to gunpla and are looking for a place to start. The Witch From Mercury kits are some of the best quality I think I've seen in gunpla (again, from my limited experience) and if you love the series and want to collect gunpla, you can't go wrong with getting this kit. The posable nature and movement of the kit itself is great, which I think is really cool and allows for some creative shots to be made with them!

This is a little series of posts that I hope to continue in the future! If you have any suggestions on things to add or change please let me know! I'm open to constructive criticism :)

#demi trainer #gunpla #gundam #g witch #witch from mercury #review #gundam witch from mercury #mecha

[neon-junkie]

Chef!Crosshair x Server!Reader Headcanons

This has been stuck in my drafts for a while, so I figured I'd tidy it up, and hit post. Reader is gender-neutral. 2k words. I think Crosshair would deffo be a chef in a modern setting! A little self indulgent as I'm a bartender/server... hehehehe...

Crosshair isn't quite the top dog, but second in line. Still, he runs the kitchen, and Maker forbids anybody to step out of line when Crosshair is on shift.

Or in general, for that matter. Crosshair has no problem breaking one of his chefs down to tears if they forget one simple task, like day dotting food stock, or ensuring that the fridges are at the correct temperature.

"A baby could do this job better than you. Why can't you pull your karking socks up, and get some sense through your thick skull?!"

Crosshair is a big meanie, to put it blankly. He has respect for those who do their job right, but if you're acting like an idiot in his kitchen, then all hell will break loose.

He's snappy to the front of house staff, too. Including the servers. Didn't scrape the plates enough? That deserves a telling off. Rushing him for orders? Fuck off. And if you dare steal a chip? Might as well die.

Crosshair doesn't like mess, clutter, or laziness, and everybody knows damn well how much it irritates him. Just don't be stupid, essentially.

Anyway, you've applied to this popular street food style restaurant. It's not posh, far from it. The food is fatty and filling, the perfect hangover cure, and you're guilty of being a regular.

The Manager, Hunter, doesn't seem surprised when you apply, and your interview is essentially a chit-chat, getting to know each other, seeing as you've already met from coming in on the regular.

It's finally time for you to put your uniform on, and be introduced to the rest of the staff. Everybody is lovely, to say the least, as you've met them before from being a customer.

Then you go into the back of house, and meet those who have blessed your stomach time and time again.

Hunter's eyes trail the kitchen before he asks, "where's Cross?" and another staff member shrugs whilst replying, "out the back."

Hunter, after letting out a grumble, leads you to the back entrance, explaining that this is the staff smoking area. Just as he's about to step outside, the door opens, and a tired-looking man in pristine chef's whites stands in the doorway.

He lets out another puff of his cigarette before discarding it, only to choke on the smoke as his eyes meet yours. His hand comes up to clear his throat, and you notice the tattoos and burn marks scattered over his toned arms. He's clear of jewellery, but you instantly know he's the type to wear rings and chains when he's off shift.

"Cross, I want to introduce you to our new server," Hunter pulls his gaze from yours, and after saying your name, Crosshair fails to make eye contact with you.

Only now do you notice his face tattoo, darkly contrasting against his silver hair. Is it dyed? Or is he really this stressed out from his job?

"Nice to meet you," Crosshair mutters as he extends his hand, and shakes yours. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have stock to count."

And with that, he's pushing past you and Hunter, disappearing into the kitchen.

Hunter turns back to you with a sigh, "he doesn't talk much. Not a fan of strangers, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

Oh, how right Hunter is.

Your first week went well, and you're slowly starting to establish a place for yourself within your new work environment.

Today is your usual weekday shift. Not too busy, but not slow paced either. The lunch rush has finished, and you're tasked with cleaning up tables. Another stack of plates is brought into the kitchen, and you're going through them one by one, scraping the leftovers into the bin before stacking them on the shelves for the pot washer to clean, when he's back from his cigarette break.

You can feel somebody's eyes on the back of your head, practically burning a hole through your skull. Curious, you peer over your shoulder, and lock eyes with Crosshair.

He's attempting to prep some vegetables, and narrowly misses his finger whilst chopping them, his gaze fixated elsewhere. Only, once your eyes meet his, Crosshair looks back to his task, acting as if he wasn't just staring at you.

So, you turn away, only to look back at him when his voice fills the air.

"It's nice to have some competence around here," Crosshair comments. You let out a soft "hm?" so Crosshair continues. "Most of the other servers leave their plates a mess, barely scraped, stacked in the wrong order. It's nice to have a server who knows how to do their job."

"It's not like it's hard," you say with a shrug.

"Exactly," Crosshair looks back up at you, and you notice the upwards turn to his lips.

You return to your task after matching his smile, and you're both content with the silence in the air.

Once finished, it's time for your break. Whilst you would usually ring your staff food through without a second thought, you decide to ask Crosshairs permission first.

"Hey, I know you're doing prep, but do you mind if I ring my food through? I can wait if-"

"-What would you like, Sweetheart?" Crosshair asks, wiping his hands clean as he makes his way over to the grill.

"Uhm… a burger?" your mind falls blank, mostly because you're not used to having a chef seem this happy with cooking.

"Is that it?" Crosshair raises his brow. "Come on, you can come up with something more creative than that. Tell me what toppings you like."

Before you know it, you're going into depth about exactly how you like your burgers. All the while, Crosshair is nodding in agreement, and even chimes in with comments here and there. You soon ring your order up, and whilst waiting for it to cook, you return to cleaning your tables, all whilst your heart is pounding with butterflies in your chest.

Back in the kitchen, Crosshair catches himself smiling as he cooks your meal. He doesn't even realise how sappy he's being until he squirts the burger sauce onto the bun in the shape of a heart, soon to be hidden by a patty cooked to your liking.

"What's got you all cheery?" Hunter questions as he peers in the kitchen, bewildered at Crosshairs content expression.

Crosshair slips his emotional mask back on as he meets his brother's eyes, "just excited for my cigarette break."

One month into your new job, and you're more than happy here. The customers are nice, your coworkers are great, and the food is to die for!

Sure, you're in the honeymoon phase, but you'll enjoy it whilst it lasts.

Crosshair is slowly opening up to you, but he's been the toughest egg to crack. Whilst everybody else has no issue with jumping straight into conversation, Crosshair tends to keep his mouth shut, minus the odd hum and one-word reply here and there.

Only, you've seen him speak to others. Well, not speak… scream! Crosshair has no issue with shouting at his cooks over the smallest of things. He's even barked at the other servers, too. You know that he's overall disliked within the workplace, but sometimes, you can understand Crosshairs point of view.

He's right. It's not hard to do your job right, keep your area tidy, and be efficient. Maker knows how your co-workers manage to screw the smallest of things up, and sure, you've made mistakes here and there, and always bent over backwards to fix them.

But despite Crosshair's tough demeanour, deep down, he's a real sap. Or at least, he is towards you.

You've noticed that you can get away with certain things, such as nibbling on a few leftover chips whilst waiting for orders to be plated up, or using different abbreviations when ringing up orders.

You didn't even realise that wasn't the norm, until a fellow coworker commented, "Crosshair lets you eat the leftover fries? He swatted my hand away when I tried to do that, just like everybody else."

Maybe it's because you bring Crosshair a cup of coffee to his liking at the start of every shift? Or because you always let out comments here and there about how good the food is presented?

Maybe it's just because Crosshair has a thing for you, as much as he denies it. You are his favourite server, but Maker forbid that anybody knows, despite it being painfully obvious.

Obvious to everyone, but you.

You finally catch on during one stressful shift. A customer, as cursed as they are, broke you down to tears. You remained stiff lipped whilst taking a beating, but the second you entered the back of house, tears started rolling down your cheeks.

Hunter takes the burden of the customer off your shoulders, and orders you to go and take a moment to yourself out back.

The fire exit door swings open, and you storm out, holding back a choked sob as you take a seat on one of the many empty crates resting against the building.

Your head falls into your hands, elbows resting on your knees, and finally alone, you begin to cry.

Only, you're not alone. Crosshair is on the other side of the door, back resting against the wall with a forgotten cigarette pressed between his fingers. He can hear you crying, and after swallowing his feelings, and allowing them to settle in his uneasy stomach, he discards his cigarette and decides to approach you.

"Customers, huh?" Crosshair questions as he takes a seat beside you, not bothering to ask if you need a friend. He knows damn well that you do.

A series of incoherent words fall from your lips, but Crosshair can piece them together. You're venting about what just happened, mumbling and babbling away, blowing off steam with your favourite chef by your side.

In the midst of offloading your anger, Crosshair decides to weave his arm around your shoulders, and gently pull you into his grasp.

He doesn't even realise what he's done until your head comes to rest on his shoulder, lashes fluttering against his sensitive Adams apple, still venting away whilst a hand caresses your shoulder and back.

"And you wonder why I work in the kitchen," Crosshair comments, earning a laugh from you.

"Maybe I should switch, and start working in the kitchen with you," you say with a light chuckle.

Despite his stomach turning at the idea, Crosshair puts on a smile as he replies, "that wouldn't be so bad. I'm sure I could put up with you."

"Put up with me?" you repeat with a gasp, straightening your back to meet his eyes. All Crosshair does is give you a shrug, with a cheeky grin on his lips. "Phfft, I'd be the one putting up with you. I've seen how you bark at your chefs," you continue.

"I don't bark," Crosshair says with a playful glare. "I bite."

You can't help but let out a laugh, soon returning your head to his shoulder. "You wouldn't bite me," you boast.

Crosshair allows his cheek to rest against the top of your head. "I might do," he says eagerly, "but only if you waste stock."

"Oh, I'd definitely burn a burger or two," you admit, knowing damn-well that you're a riot in the kitchen.

In the midst of your nattering, Hunter makes his way through the back of house to find you, knowing that you're taking a breather outside.

Only he stops once he overhears your voice, and a certain chef talking to you.

Smiling to himself, Hunter decides that you don't need him - you have somebody else to take care of you, somebody who has been eager to talk to you, but is far more timid than he lets on.

Hunter's little plan is going smoothly, now that Crosshair is finally speaking to you, rather than keeping to himself in the kitchen.

After all, Crosshair is the main reason why you were hired. It's his own fault, drunkenly admitting that he thought a certain regular customer was attractive, and definitely his type.

Fate took its course, and Hunter found your CV in his pile only a few days later.

You were beyond perfect for the job, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be even better for a certain chef.

#tbbwriting #tbb #the bad batch #chef!crosshair #crosshair #line cook!crosshair #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #headcanon #sfw

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 7/34 - pocket bow tie

[Read on AO3]

She looks excited. At least, he thinks she does.

The good news is, she doesn't look like she's about to bolt out the door, and he calls that a win.

They may not be committing themselves to each other in the way a marriage is typically supposed to go, but this is a big commitment all the same. If she changes her mind now, their plans for adoption are as good as gone. The idea of family, as foreign as it has been for the last 26 years of his life.

He’ll admit he’s gotten rather attached to the idea. Perhaps a little too much so, considering how unique their situation is, and how often they've been dealt blow after blow of disappointment.

He looks down at the woman to his left. Any worries he might have had melt away at the sight of her. She's calm, her lips quirked up in a quiet, content smile as they wait to be called into the courtroom. Her shoulder brushes against his arm, and he resists the temptation to touch her, to hold her hand in his, knowing he will have his chance later.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he says, having held on to that one all morning. She smiles up at him, looking every bit the blushing bride she is, despite the absence of the big white dress and veil.

"I think Bill was intimidated by how nicely you were dressed," she teases back.

He looks down at his fine-cut suit. "What, this old thing?"

Scully has never been the kind to care how expensive one's clothes were, but even she has to admit that he looks good in Armani. And judging by his smirk, he knows it too.

"Did you have that bow tie stuffed in your pocket all morning, Mulder?" she asks, reaching up to straighten it.

"Had to look nice for our special day," he answers cheesily. "Plus, you told me to ditch the colorful ties. Figured I'd get a head start on the whole 'happy wife, happy life' thing."

Wife. Husband. Those words sound so foreign, and yet, in just a few moments time, they will apply to them.

'Excuse me, table for me and my wife, please.'

'Yes, I'm her husband. That's me.'

The insanity of it all makes him want to laugh.

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" a clerk asks, popping her head out of the courtroom door.

He feels Scully's hand grasp for his, and a thrill runs up his spine. "That's us," she says, stepping forward. He gives her hand a squeeze, following after her like a lost puppy.

Here we go.

Once they’re inside, the judge gestures for them to approach the bench, and they stand side-by-side in the center of the chamber. The dark oak wood is daunting, bringing back memories of not particularly enjoyable times they’ve been in courtrooms.

This time is different, though. The judge is smiling, for one, looking down her thin, half-moon spectacles at them. And, for once, their time in court will serve to unite them, rather than split them apart.

Yes, this would be a very nice change, indeed.

“What a beautiful couple you make,” the older woman speaks, her eyes crinkling in joy. Scully smiles, and Mulder clings a little tighter to her hand. “Are we ready to get started?”

They nod, and Mulder has to focus to keep his knees steady under him. They’re really doing this. He can hardly believe it has come to this point.

“We are gathered here to join Fox and Dana in the blessed union of marriage,” the judge starts, reciting her opening statement to the mostly empty room. One clerk stands by as their witness, a camera in hand to capture their memories of the day, probably with the intent to sell them back to them at an exorbitant price. 

It doesn’t matter. Mulder will pay it anyway, whatever the cost.

“This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly,” she continues. “A marriage ought to be founded on mutual respect, affection, and a desire to see through any challenges that may come your way. If you speak your vows in truth, this union will strengthen your bond, serving as a constant reminder of your unwavering love for one another.”

Mulder swallows, holding fast to the comfortable weight of Scully’s hand in his. The judge’s words only reinforce his belief that this is the right decision, that this is meant to be. Mutual respect, affection, going through life’s challenges… how else would he describe what he and Scully have? What they’ve had for over half a decade?

Unwavering love . He’s got that in spades. He feels it from her too, that fierce loyalty. “Love…” Well, he’d like to think so. At least some form of it.

“Fox,” the judge speaks, calling him to attention. He fumbles for Scully’s other hand, the way he remembers seeing at a friend’s wedding once in Oxford. “Will you take Dana to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Easiest yes in the entire world.

Green eyes meet blue.

“I will,” he says.

“And Dana,” he feels his throat close, choking back a sudden rise of emotion. “Will you take Fox to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

It’s the ‘forsaking all others’ part he feels like Scully shouldn’t be agreeing to, but they’ve talked this over. He still can’t quite believe she picked him. Him! Out of any man she could have.

“I will,” she answers, squeezing his hands once. He nods, and feels—not for the first time—that she’d known exactly what was going through his head. They certainly are spooky like that, sometimes.

“Excellent,” the judge praises. “Now, do you have your own vows, or—”

“The standard is fine,” Scully says, smiling up at Mulder.

“Standard it is,” she says. “Fox, repeat after me. I, Fox, take you Dana.”

“I, Fox, take you, Dana.” He leans in close and adds, for her ears only, “Scully,” with a conspiratorial smile, whispering the name he gave her that first day they met. It’s the only one that feels right coming from his lips, and he needs her to know that this isn’t just for show. This isn’t ‘Fox’ making promises to ‘Dana.’ This is them—Mulder and Scully. It’s real. As real as anything she can prove with her beloved science. 

The judge, oblivious to his unprompted addition, continues. “To be my wife,” she says.

“To be my wife.”

His. He would have a wife, and it would be Scully. His Scully. He runs his thumb over her knuckles in circular strokes, swallowing back emotion. She shudders under the intensity of his gaze.

“To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

It feels good to speak these promises aloud. For so long, he’s taken and taken and taken from her, watched her life and her dreams be stolen from her grasp, powerless to stop it. Now he can finally give, starting here and now, with his solemn vow to be there for her in every way the judge described. He hopes she can see the truth in his eyes. How much he means these words, from the bottom of his heart.

Judging by the way her eyes glisten, he’s coming across loud and clear.

Then, it’s her turn, and she looks up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “I, Dana,” she says, smiling coyly in preparation for what they both know comes next. “Take you, Fox.” His name is spoken with a teasing lilt, and it sounds just as unnatural as it always does coming from her mouth. He breathes a laugh, jostling her hands playfully between them. “Mulder,” she whispers, just as he had, and his heart melts. “To be my husband.”

The rest of her vows follow, equal to his, just as they are equal in all things. The weight of what they are promising lands squarely on their shoulders, at once harrowing and freeing. Mulder can hardly believe the ceremony is almost over.

“Now, do you have rings to exchange?”

Scully goes to answer that, no, they don’t, but movement from Mulder stalls her. He fishes something from his pocket, facing her with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he says, dropping a plain silver band in the palm of her hand. She sees his fist clenched around what must be her ring, and tilts her head in fond exasperation, a silent whine of ‘Mulder…’ that he looks forward to hearing every time they exchange gifts. 

The judge waxes poetic (as poetic as city hall can get) about the meaning of rings, their significance in a marriage, symbolism—but Mulder and Scully are barely listening. All they hear is her instruction to place the band on each other’s left ring finger, which they happily do, taking their time to slide it into place. The weight feels heavy, but right, on Mulder’s hand, and Scully’s… Scully’s sparkles just like he’d imagined it would when he picked it out at the jewelry shop.

They won’t be able to wear them in public most of the time—he’d known that from the start—but for now, in this room where everyone is privy to the legal bonds being established between them, they are free to do whatever they wish. 

“Well then,” the judge speaks up, beaming from ear to ear. “Having consented to enter into this union and pledged your vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of Maryland and the circuit courts of Anne Arundel County, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She reaches up and takes off her glasses, setting them down in front of her. “Mr. Mulder, you may kiss your bride.”

Blood rushes to his ears, and for a second all he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

Somehow, in all the weeks they’ve been planning this, he’d never considered this particular part of the ceremony. A startling oversight, considering how thorough he’d been with everything else.

Scully is looking up at him, the only sign of her own internal turmoil being the way she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to kiss her, oh, does he want to kiss her. But this is where the line between real and fake goes gray. 

‘Is this okay?’ he asks with his eyes, his hands suddenly sweating a fair bit more than they had been before. He gets an almost imperceptible nod in return, and makes up his mind.

It’s chaste, the way his lips first meet hers. His hands land on that place on her back that she thinks of as belonging to him, and he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She turns and catches him with her lips, her hand coming up to lay flat against his chest. It barely lasts more than a few seconds, but it leaves him feeling dizzy nonetheless, breathless. He smiles a lopsided grin.

Of all the ways he imagined their first kiss going, in front of two complete strangers at their wedding was not one of them. 

The air feels awkward when they pull back, not quite able to meet each other’s eyes, but the silence is quickly filled with congratulatory remarks from both the judge and their witness. In an act of boldness, he captures her hand again as they are ushered out of the room, holding tightly to it. As he predicted, their witness-slash-photographer takes Mulder’s money, promising that the prints from their ceremony will be delivered to his address in a month’s time, and he thanks her.

Step one is complete. They have officially started the process that would have them labeled the craziest agents in the FBI.

For once, he doesn’t really mind being the crazy one.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption #hope i did this one justice #more to come

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

Hi, so, I made a lil quiz on controversial opinions and one of them was that narc abuse isnt real and someone disagreed and gave a response that I thought was intriguing, however I am an egotypical so I figured I'd go to this blog to see your opinion on it?

The response was "Know a lot about this topic (got really deep into the NPD) and i gotta say it's fine to say narcissistic abuse. The whole pointttt is that we're all trying to help folks with NPD, narcissistic abuse is real and should be talked about but that doesn't make narcissists evil/unredeemable. Individuals w/ NPD greatly affect those around them, unlike stuff with most cases of like, existential OCD since that's most internalized rather than externalized. I don't have any issue with the term narcissistic abuse and y'know, it's like, not something you're gonna care about in 50 yrs."

i do not know a single person with NPD who felt at all "helped" by narc abuse truthers. no, 99% of narc abuse truthers are not "trying to help folks with NPD," i've never met or seen one who wasn't passively ableist at BEST. most narc abuse truthers are not trying to help, they are not trying to understand, they DO in fact think we're irredeemable and a good portion of them wish to actually wipe us off the fucking planet. multiple times i have seen narc abuse truthers just straight up spew eugenics. most narc abuse truthers don't even actually know what NPD is beyond abuser disorder.

it is true that people with NPD can affect the people around them, but that is not at all a trait unique to people with NPD. narc abuse as a term makes it sound like there is something uniquely abusive about people with NPD. all narc abuse describes is patterns of emotional and psychological abuse, nothing more and nothing less, and those patterns are not unique to us. i have been abused in ways that narc abuse describes by people did not have NPD. if you want a term that literally just means "abused by someone who had NPD," you would need to apply that same logic to every single disorder out there that could possibly have an externalized affect.

even if a term like "narc abuse" worked in theory, the communities that are fostered around it are horrendously and disgustingly ableist. it is the nature of a term like that. blaming the abuse you suffered from someone soley on their disorder not only takes responsibility off of them as a person, but also inherently subconsciously creates negative associations with that disorder and everyone else who has it.

i am going to get a bit vulnerable about something i'm not proud of. i have had a very similar mindset narc abuse truthers have about NPD but with bipolar disorder. i grew up knowing my extremely abusive father had bipolar disorder as he was diagnosed when he was younger. i blamed the majority of his actions on his disorder, it made me scared and paranoid of people who had the same disorder. i even had an old friend who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder while i knew him who explicitly told me he was afraid i'd start to hate him or be afraid of him. and a part of me was afraid of him for it. i was miserable and made other people around me miserable. i had to at some point confront the fact i could not blame his disorder for all his abusive actions, i had to make the disconnect, i could not hold innocent people with the same disorder responsible for what he did to me. it was not their fault, and they did not deserve to be held accountable by association of a disorder they did not ask to have.

i could not imagine how much worse it would have been if i had something like a "bipolar abuse" community. i maybe never would have undid my ableist views. these "[disorder] abuse" communities always inherently create an environment that is extremely negative and hostile towards people with said disorder. you can absolutely have conversations about how your abuser's mental illness and trauma affected the relationship you had with them, as mentioned before my father's untreated bipolar disorder absolutely heavily impacted our relationship even outside of his abusive behavior, but these kinds of communities are not the way to do it.

and actually, this is something i will still care about in 50 years if i have to, but hopefully i won't because hopefully it won't still be an issue in 50 years. though that may be wishful thinking.

#not culture #ableism tw