ARIES:flattened paper boats scattered like the remains of a murdered animal along a dried up river, rundown motels with their blasted neon signs and smashed-in windows, pink streamers from some neighborhood child’s birthday party shuffling across the street like bright tumbleweed, a train rattling off into the breathless night & the trace remnants of a week old bonfire found in the middle of nowhere.
TAURUS:chipped paint, shattered shot glasses lying across an abandoned pool table missing a few billiard balls, flyers rustling like autumn leaves against the tempestuous tides of the wind, advertising concerts & magic shows that took place in 2005, the sillage of old perfume clogging up the air, still thick as the scent of blood or wildflowers.
GEMINI:the corpse of a cigarette that hasn’t touched a mouth in months, a dilapidated playground where lost souls come out to play, threadbare curtains ripped like the wings of a dissected bird, strange red-brown stains across the hotel bedsheets, a gate grown weary with new-forming foliage & age, whining erroneously whenever maneuvered.
CANCER: an empty casket, coffee rim imprints across hardwood tables, an old, tattered shoe lying haphazardly on the side of the road, a junkyard littered with ancient cars still soggy with stories, a pick-up with a broken windshield, a cadillac with a massacred paint job, someone’s motorcycle with blood staining the front tire, an askew portrait with eyes that follow you around the room.
LEO: a carnival horse with one eye scratched out, a daycare centre that shut down years ago, plagued with the colorful ghosts of children’s drawings still tacked to the crumbling walls, a spiral staircase that seems to shift direction when nobody’s paying attention, crunched up beer cans rolling across an empty rooftop & lichen kissing the concrete.
VIRGO: the supermarket, flickering & eerie at night like the shadows unearthed beneath troubled eyes, owls stirring in between the murmuring trees, a single upturned grave in a cemetery that isn’t supposed to be notorious for hauntings, an old fountain still glistening with pennies that are no longer considered currency, a collapsed bottle of wine running the tiles red.
LIBRA:handprints imprinted onto fogged-up windows, red rooms crowded with developing photographs of people whose faces you recognize but cannot quite place, broken doll heads, a necklace that erupted into a sea of pearls, a deflated blow up kiddie pool collecting parched grass and critters, a busted arcade game & the laughter of people long gone still trapped inside the walls.
SCORPIO: books with grimacing yellow pages, someone attempting to sell you a cursed object on etsy, a leaky shower-head, a clock that’s stuck in time, a torn, unravelled couch sitting deserted in someone’s front lawn, candy stores that proclaim sales on expired sweets & ruddy patches of farmland.
SAGITTARIUS:basements stacked with unwanted toys, a box of thin-mints, footsteps reverberating around the house when it’s 2 AM and you’re home alone, a burned down lemonade stand, that weird alien light in the third window of your neighbor’s house that never seems to get turned off, a certain rattling coming from the kitchen.
CAPRICORN: rain pummeling against damp ceilings, clothes ripped off the washing line, an empty aquarium, obscure little thrift stores that sell leather jackets from the eighties, gas station lights flirting with you from the distance, the alley where they say the vagabonds roam their night countries, sniffing up and dressing down and slitting the throats of angels.
AQUARIUS:those tiny coffee shops that fill you with nostalgia for places you’ll never visit, ‘JESUS LOVES YOU’ spray-painted across the sides of ramshackle buildings, an antique almirah scratched to high hell, a monster in the closet, the tunnel beneath the bridge that half the town believes is a gateway to hell, smoking up in trip mall parking lots.
PISCES: halloween decor presented in shop windows a couple months early, visiting that lake where you heard that one kid drowned, the garage door slamming without cause or notice, storing fireflies in jars, drugstore makeup, birthday cake flavored oreos, a wheeled desk chair that seems to turn on its own when nobody’s in the office, a candle snuffed out on a windless evening.
In which I get a wife in my first session of a campaign
Context: So I made a new character for this campaign, and she is a very punchy fighter by the name of Mae Gjallarfjall. And her trouble is “Punch first, ask questions later.” I joined one or two sessions late, so I have no context for this campaign other than “Magitech is a thing that exists and can do things.” I am a crewhand on a ship traveling across the sea.
DM: All of you hear the crashing of wood as a cannonball tears through a bit of your ship’s hull. You then hear the captain yell “PIRATES OFF THE PORT BOW!” What do you do?
Me (OOC): I run over to the captain and tell him to get me in punching distance.
DM (as captain): Wait what?
Me: Get. Me. In. Punching. Distance!
Wizard: *grabs me by the shoulder* Hold on. *rolls Magic to teleport*
DM to me and Wizard: You two end up on top of the pirate ship’s mast, a good sixty feet above the deck. The ship is also flying above the water. Below you see six pirates that do not seem to know you are here. What do?
Me (OOC): Well, my trouble is “Punch first, ask questions later,” so I’m going to roll Fitness to sprint down the mast and activate Fist of Havoc.
DM: Alright, roll.
Me: *rolls +2 on Fitness and 18 damage on Fist of Havoc*
DM: You kill two of the pirates instantly and send the other four back a ways staring at you in shock and fear.
Me (OOC): I want to roll Persuasion to convince them that fighting me is a terrible idea.
DM: Um… okay, roll for it.
Me: *rolls +2 on Persuasion*
DM: You succeed on two of the pirates. Pirates 1 and 2 sheathe their weapons and take a step back. Pirates 3 and 4 are not convinced.
Everyone else takes their turns.
DM to me: Alright, so Pirate 3 has been smacked by [Paladin], and Pirate 4 tried to attack but accidentally lost grip on his sword and is floundering to pick it up. The pirate captain has come up from her quarters and yells “What the hell is going on on my ship‽”
Me (OOC): I run over to her and punch her right in the face. *rolls +3 to hit and another +3 for damage*
DM: Wow. So you run over and deck her right in the schnoz and she staggers back a bit. In retaliation, she shoots you. *rolls +2 and deals 3 points of damage after armor*
Engineer: *busts out from under the ship and yells* “ABANDON SHIP OR BURN IN HELL!”
Me (OOC): *rolls neutral on Fitness and jumps overboard, rolls again for Hero Landing™ and gets +2* Wait, where’s pirate captain lady?
DM: That’s a good question. *rolls dice* She says goodbye to her crew and ship and jumps overboard.
Me (OOC): I roll Initiative to see where she’ll land, and Fitness to catch her.
DM: Go for it?
Me: *rolls +1 Initiative and crit Fitness*
DM: Holy shit, give yourself a fate chip and let me paint you this word picture. [Engineer] sprints out from the engine room and yells to get off. Both of you dive off and land on your ship. [Paladin] jumps off and lands on his horse, and then Pirate Lady jumps off after you guys. You look up and hold out your arms and catch her bridal style so comfortably that she swoons and blushes profusely at you.
Me: I apologize if your fall from heaven hurt. *rolls persuasion and gets +3*
DM: She is so overcome by her emotions that she is now profusely in love with you and wants to marry you.
Me (OOC): I say yes and marry my new pirate bride.
1 - Crystal Hack: You really don’t need special crystals to work your magick. Places like Walmart and most dollar stores have cute polished rocks that can work just as well when charged with intent. You can also just go find them out in the wilderness if you’re the outdoorsy type! Just pay attention to colors, shapes, and if you find them yourself look at where you found them for their associations! If that isn’t doing it for you, grab some acrylic paint and paint runes, little pictures, even just write words on them to strengthen their meaning to you. Be sure to seal them with Mod Podge or even clear nail polish so the paint doesn’t chip off!
2 - Dirt: It’s dirt cheap! Hahaha Joking aside, if you don’t mind the bit of extra work many practitioners use different kinds of dirt for different spells, and if you put some thought into it you can find good associations for most spells. I’ll list a few below; Graveyard Dirt - Spirit work and hexing (Be sure to ask permission from the spirits first!) Crossroads Dirt - Life changes and hexing Dirt from a Police Station or Courthouse - Magick relating to laws, justice and correcting wrongdoing. (You may want to avoid this one if you don’t want to draw the attention of the law to yourself.) Dirt from Your Own Home: Protection of the home, family and hearth spells Dirt from a Place You Want to Live: To help you find a good new home The list goes on and on, an entire post could be made just listing the kinds of dirt that can be used in different spells, (Maybe a post for the future?) but just give it some thought and you can find an association to dirt for just about any spell.
3 - Candle Hack: Most practitioners know you can substitute white candles for just about any other color, but did you know it’s super easy to make your own candles? If you’re in the position to be able to order a few affordable things from Amazon or Etsy (or if you can make a trip to a local craft store) and have access to a heat source you can make any kind of candles you want! I often buy cheap white candles from the Dollar Tree just to beef up my collection of colorless wax and I always save the wax from old candles or wax melts that have lost their scent so I can add it to new candles! Just get yourself some basic wicks (or google how to make your own) and either buy some heat safe glass jars or a candle mold and there you go! You can also add herbs that you associate with the kind of spell you want to do to give your candle a bit of extra umph!
4 - Herbs: You do not need fancy organic herbs from a foreign land to work magick, the herbs you find at your local grocery store will work just fine! Don’t get me wrong, fancy herbs can be fun but they aren’t really necessary. For any specialty herb you read about I guarantee with a google search you can find a mundane culinary herb you can use instead.
5 - Sigils: I love sigils because you can make them anywhere anytime and do anything with them, all you need is a pencil and a piece of paper. Do a quick search for “how to make sigils” and you will find a whole slew of different methods, pick one out that works well for you and start getting creative! In a pinch you can turn any spell into a sigil, just charge it up and go!
OKAY I have been meaning to do this for MONTHS but hey, there’s no better time than the present so buckle up, here we go!
THESE BOOKS ARE A GODSEND.
I am ALWAYS on the lookout for writing aids that ACTUALLY HELP. If you’re like me, and occasionally venture out to buy books on, let’s say, showing vs telling - you will always get the same rehearsed speeches on what that means. -summons pretentious writer’s voice-You’ve got to shoooooow what’s happening in the scene, not teeeeeeell~~ BAH! What you NEVER get, however, is how to do it, or how do it better.
THESE BOOKS ARE THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Each of these is so freaking helpful, I can’t even convey. They all follow the same format as the pictures I’ve shown above, so you get one detailed page of descriptions followed by tons of more in-depth, thought provoking concepts.
I’ll do my best to lay out the five that I have and if you are interested, hop on over to Amazon and buy these suckers up because they are AMAZING; I have NEVER used a writing resource more than I use these.
Negative Trait Thesaurus & Positive Trait Thesaurus -gives you a definition of said negative trait -gives you similar flaws also found in the book -gives you possible causes of WHY the character might have this trait -gives you a list of other behaviors the chara might have -gives you examples of the chara’s thought process -gives associated emotions -gives positive aspects of the trait, as well as negative -gives examples of well known chara’s that have this trait -talks about how the chara might overcome it -gives traits that, when combined with this one, might cause conflict How I use this information: Chara building, or when I get stuck on what I want a character to do. Man, I just can’t decide what they WOULD do. Well, awesome, I have a little guide to help me think through the character’s possible motivations. Also, I get help building a potential backstory because I get a framework of which to think, why is the character this way?
Urban Setting Thesaurus & Rural Setting Thesaurus -gives a whole lot of examples of sights, smells, tastes, and sounds -gives examples of textures and sensations (ie at an ‘antique shop’ you may encounter chipped paint, distressed wood, etc) -gives you possible sources of conflict (ie at a ‘hotel’ you might have noisy neighbors) -gives list of people you might expect to find at said location -gives related settings -gives tips on this type of setting -gives a setting description example How I use this information: IMAGERY IMAGERY IMAGERY
Emotion Thesaurus (aka MY FAVORITE) -gives a definition of the emotion -gives physical signs and signals (ie chara may look pale, might fidget, etc) -gives internal sensations (aka, blood pounding in the ears, dry throat, adrenaline rush) -gives mental responses (ie fight or flight) -gives cues of acute or long-term impacts of the emotion -gives ‘may escalate to _______’ and directs you to other emotions -gives cues of suppression (ie cues of suppressed rage) -gives writer tips How I use this information: I love this book so hardcore, it’s so helpful with internalizing. It’s great because I get to step outside of that box of using the same five responses to a certain emotion and start really thinking about, what can a character do instead to show that they are feeling this, rather than me using adverbs or his adrenaline pumped fifty gazillion times.
These books are all co-written by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi (bless their souls) and if this sounds of interest LOOK INTO IT!! I get such buyer’s regret after buying writing guides but these are legit the best ones I have found and I reference them so, so, so much.
Hope this helps anyone out there looking for something life-changing!!
AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis’ new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.) (24k - a fave)
There’s a low, paint-chipped door in the corner of Alexei Mashkov’s living
room in Providence.
His agent tells him that the door used to connect to the apartment next to his,
a long time ago, when the structure had been one. The door leads to nowhere
now, only a wall of bricks. Alexei has even seen the wall of bricks in person,
when he requested the landlord open the door for fun. He’s always been curious,
after all, and the old, rusted key that the agent picks out from the cabinets
only added to that curiosity.
“You’ll get yourself into trouble one day, Lyosha,” his grandmother used to
tell him. Alexei had been young, perhaps seven or eight, when she warned him.
“Don’t ask so many questions, and try to be happy, or the spirits will see, and take you.” She
had said, “Don’t go through strange doors, and don’t follow voices, especially
if they sing to you.”
“What’s so bad about singing?” Alexei had demanded, in a petulant way only a
seven-year-old can manage. “I sing.”
“Yes, love, but they sing to
confuse you,” his grandmother had responded. “They sing of a life better than
the one you have, so you want to come to them. You see? They want to trick you
and steal you away.”
Of course, Alexei had thought her warning had been metaphorical, if not
slightly cryptic. She’d been old then, and easily confused. If you take out the
spirits part, the rest sound more or less logical. He figured that she doesn’t
want him talking to strangers and end up kidnapped, so Alexei had merely nodded
and promised her. No going in strange doors, no following the singing voice, not that there’d been any in his life. Until now.
The bricks are nothing special: the seams filled with cement, the corners dusty
with cobwebs. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but there’s a draft that only
Alexei can feel because when he mentions it to the agent, she only blinks in
“Why not lock it?” Alexei asks, when the agent pockets the old key and closes
the old, wooden door.
“Why should I?” the agent says, smiling. “The wall is bricked up. Not like
there’s anything that can come out. Now, let’s go to the kitchen. The structure
itself is a little old, almost 150 years, but it’s been recently remodeled.
It’s got a beautiful granite counter top—”
Alexei loves the house. But doesn’t know why he feels uneasy about the door. When he gets the keys to the house, he finds the rusted key again and locks the door.
Carl Grimes x Reader, Maggie and Glenn x Adopted Daughter Reader
Summary: When you and Carl sneak out of Alexandria to “explore”, you find more than you bargained for in an abandoned house.
Warning: Fluff, drug use (marijuana), mentions of sex, implied smut, language, angry parents lol
“Are we still meeting up tonight?” You ask Carl as you hold Judith, bouncing her up and down on your hip.
“Yeah. We just have to be more careful this time. My dad almost caught me sneaking back in last time.” Carl says, taking Judith from your hands.
You and Carl had been dating ever since you got to Alexandria, and ever since you two got here, you’d sneak out a few times a week to go “exploring” outside of the walls. More often than not, you’d end up just going to the cabin that was a few miles outside of Alexandria to have sex, but occasionally you two actually went exploring around the abandoned neighborhoods. It was sort of a tradition now.
“I’m surprised I haven’t got caught yet. Maggie and Glenn are always up at random hours of the night for god knows why.” You respond. You and your parents were a part of Rick’s group ever since the beginning, but they had gotten killed during the attack of Hershel’s farm. Ever since then, Glenn and Maggie have acted as parents towards you, and you couldn’t be more thankful.
“Probably because they want to wait until you’re asleep to-“
“Ah, stop there.” You put a finger to Carl’s lips, making him laugh. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be having it.” Carl said in a mocking tone, repeating what Maggie had once told the two of you when she had walked in on a rather heated moment.
Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants
you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.
Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(
Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)
so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning
in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and
write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more
than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to
It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing
down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an
ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you
up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the
sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of
having it all, of seeing it all. How
warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and
turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.
Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest
words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize
the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you
A/N: Hey guys!! I wanted to post this yesterday but I was too tired so, I’m so so sorry anon!! However, I still hoped that you had a great birthday!! I’m sorry but this had a little bit of a nerdy ending but I couldn’t help it haha😅and I wrote an apartment instead of a house instead, I hope you don’t mind. Anyways, enjoy!!!
Request: Would you do a bit a smutty one for my bday tomorrow where you’re moving in your first own little house with Bucky and after unpacking the whole day then end up in a paint fight while painting the bedroom, you have a shower together where things get heated ? ☺️☺️ Later that night you cuddle together and fall asleep in each other’s arms ? Also his POV if you like. That would be really really lovely ❤️
“Do I just put it here?” Bucky asked as he
placed a box of your things beside you as you started unpacking some of the
“Yep, that’s fine.” You smiled as you
arranged your books on a shelf that Bucky decided to build for you.
The two of you had been together for about
two years and decided to find an apartment and moved in together as the tower
wasn’t really a place that both of you could have privacy. Both of you from
S.H.I.E.L.D., he was an Avenger and you were just an agent, it took a while but
you had managed to coax Bucky into giving the relationship a try as he seemed
so insecure, but you were glad it worked.
“I can’t believe we’re finally moving in
together,” you commented, looking around the apartment. “A small little place
just for us.”
Bucky smiled as he walked up and hugged you
from behind, resting his chin on shoulder. “I like it though.”
“I like it too,” you replied, as Bucky
placed a kiss on your neck before moving away to unpack the other boxes. “Don’t
unpack the things for our bedroom yet, I want to repaint that room. I saw some
of the paint chipping off and that color was just unsightly.”
A/N: I made another one! I hope you guys like it as much as you have the last ones!
Summary: The reader and Carl are in a “no strings attached” kind of relationship that is as complicated as can be. Due to the disapproval of the reader’s mother they’ve been sneaking around for quite some time. Despite efforts to stop it, they both feel it turning into something more.
You stare at the closed door in front of you and take a deep breath for the third time tonight. You’re standing outside your boyfriend’s apartment, like you’ve done a thousand times before. It’s the same chipped and faded paint on the wood you’ve seen that has been etched into your memory, along with the same useless doorbell that never works- But it all feels different, because of what you’ve come here to do.
You are completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Daveed Diggs. He feels the same way about you, you know he does. He’s expressed it breathlessly between kisses, in dorky love letters, and in a song coupled with Lin’s awkward beatboxing in the background. And because the two of you are in love, you want to do what people who are in love do.
In the year that you’ve been dating he has mostly managed to keep his hands off of you. You never went much further than the occasional hasty make out session on the couch, but lately you’d been wanting more. You came to his apartment with the intention of finally, finally taking that next step with him. You are worried about one thing, though, since you are an absolutely clueless virgin. You’ve never done this before, but have always imagined how it would go… your first time being so intimate with another human being. Thinking it through from the last couple of days, you convinced yourself you had nothing to worry about. He’s always been so caring with you, and you’re not a child. You know how this works.
You finally knock on the door, smoothing out your dress and fixing your hair as you wait. You’ve chosen to wear something that you know makes you look irresistible-a short, sleeveless dress, lace tights, and your lucky heels, all in black. It should definitely do the trick.
Soft footsteps come closer, and the door opens to reveal your boyfriend, messy haired and as cute as ever.
“Hey, Y/N,” He beams at you, his brown eyes shining with joy from your surprise of just randomly showing at his door. He’s so cute that you nearly forget to respond.
“Hi, Dave. Mind if I come inside?” You smile back, trying to add an edge to your voice that you hope is anything near sexy.
“Not at all, sugar,” He ushers you inside and kisses your cheek as you brush past him. “What inspired this visit?” He hums against your neck, slipping his arms around your waist.
“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see you. That’s all,” You reply coyly.
“Well, you’re always welcome here. I can never get enough of you,” He’s still smiling at you, although it’s more of a smirk now. Maybe he knows what you’re up to. Still in an almost-embrace, you drift into the living room and onto the couch.
“Do you want a drink? I could get us some beers,” Daveed asks.
“How about something a little more… sophisticated?” You suggest sinking your vision to his eyes, hoping that you’re still being subtle.
He must have caught on to your plan, because his eyebrows quirk up, like they always do when he’s in a playful mood. “Coming right up, doll,” he says and whisks to the kitchen and returns shortly with two blood-red glasses. When he gives you yours your hands touch and linger. It’s as if every time your skin has come into contact, from the kiss at the door to this quick moment, sparks have flown between the two of you. Even making eye contact with him over the rim of your glass has you feeling hot all over.
It doesn’t take long before both of your glasses are drained and you’re basically in his lap, toying with the buttons at the top of his shirt. You kick off your shoes so you can bring your feet up on the couch. Looking down at you, he pulls you closer to him, as if it were even possible. It’s still chaste and innocent. You’re only playing with each other’s hair, looking into each other’s eyes. His gaze keeps flicking down to your lips, which you had agonized over for some time, delicately painting on the perfect shade of red. Then his lips are on yours, soft at first and then building up to something dangerous and reckless. There’s teeth, there’s tongue, it’s filthy and you love it. Your lipstick is definitely ruined but you couldn’t care less.
He pushes you onto your back, suddenly harsh and commanding. He has total control over you, and you’re just helplessly needy, arching into his touch and chasing those wonderful feelings he’s giving you. There’s that sinful thing he does with his tongue, and the way he keeps grinding his hips where your dress has ridden up… It’s too much and not enough.
“Maybe we should… Mmf… Go to your room?” You ask as he stops his assault on your lips to nibble at your collarbone.
He simply nods, holding your hand on the way there and looking at you like he wants to devour you. He throws you onto the bed, making you squeak in surprise. “I want you, and I’m going to take you… I’ll make you mine, babydoll…” He murmurs and literally tears your tights off your legs. The amount of force he’s using begins to scare you.
Your dress is the next to go. Thankfully, he manages to keep it in one piece. Now you’re fully exposed, except for a thin lace bra which he makes quick work of. He’s straddling you at this point, and you can feel his erection straining in his skinny jeans. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.” He growls as he takes in the expanse of your bare body. Even though it’s a compliment, it sounds almost predatory.
His clothes come off quickly. You want to take a second to let the fact sink in that you’re skin to skin with the love of your life, but he’s moving so fast you don’t have the time. It’s too frantic. Every touch is fleeting; every brush of your lips is too rushed.
“It’s been such a long time, sweetheart. You’re so gorgeous. I might have to skip the foreplay. I need to feel you, now,” He growls and pounces on you, and starts rutting his cock against your opening. It’s nice- but your eyes widen when you realize exactly how big he is. You were not expecting it to be so thick or so long, and you find yourself wondering how on Earth that is going to fit inside you. “Mmm… You’re going to feel me for days. You’ll be so wrecked when I’m through with you…” He’s pressing harder, sending prickles of pain throughout your body and your heart is racing. You want to back out, but it must be too late now. He’s starts to force it in you and it’s too much too soon- you cry out in pain.
“It’s okay, it will be better soon, it’s just been a while-” he begins to soothe you, his eyes closed and running his hands over your arms.
“No, no, no- I’m a virgin. I’m a virgin, Daveed.” You blurt out.
“You’re what?” He stops immediately, and pulls out to scoop you up in his arms.
“I’ve never had sex. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” tears practically falling out as you admitted it. “I thought it would be fine, but you were being so rough, and you were bigger than I expected and…” You trail off, pressing your face into his bare shoulder.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Y/N.” He strokes your hair, kissing your forehead softly. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d done this before. I don’t know what I was thinking. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made it better for you.”
“I don’t know.” You sigh. “I wanted everything to go smoothly.”
“That worked out really well.” He says sarcastically, trying to pull a joke. He must have noticed your worried expression because he adds, “I’m not mad at you, babe. Don’t worry. Just be honest with me in the future, okay?”
You nod meekly, and then smile at him, which he returns happily. Then he wraps you in another hug. “I didn’t say we had to stop. I only said we should go slower., You whisper, glancing at him and biting your lower lip.
“Will you be okay if I touch you?” he asks cautiously. He seems more afraid than you are, now. You find yourself unable to believe that he cares about you so much.
“Yes,” you breathe out.
He lets his hands run over you, in no rush. This time he worships you; he treats you like a queen. Daveed memorizes every dip and curve, delicately tracing every freckle and scar. It seems like an eternity before he reaches the place you need him to be. His fingers touch your clit hesitantly at first, but he moves faster as you let out whines and gasps of pleasure. “Do you like that, sugar?” he asks, smirking, obviously proud of the reactions he’s retrieving from you.
“Oh God, yes…” you cut yourself off with a moan when a finger enters you. It’s seconds before he finds the spot that has you begging for more and bucking into his hand. Then it’s joined by another, and you wince at the stretch but never stop the stream of noises and incoherent curses leaving your mouth.
“So wet… I think you’re ready, doll,” He retracts his fingers and guides you onto your back. He’s above you, now; knees braced on either side of you. You’re still shaking, but he’s still lending you soothing touches. Every time you look at him you find yourself reassured, somehow. It reminds you that all he wants tonight is to make you feel as special as he thinks you are. “I’ll be careful, I promise,” Daveed motions and kisses your forehead. Then he’s pushing in, as slow as he promised. He watches you carefully, ready to pull out at the first sign that you’re in pain. Your eyes are shut tight as you try to ignore the slight stretch. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts your chin up and you look at him. He’s absolutely bewitching like this, towering over you, beautiful eyes glinting and full of an intoxicating combination of adoration and lust. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you say. He takes this as his cue to slide in fully, eliciting a pained whimper from you. Immediately he’s planting quick, sloppy kisses to your neck, mumbling apologies and promises about how good it’s going to feel. You’re not sure if you believe him until he starts to move. Somehow he’s managed to reach a place you never knew existed, and each time he rubs against it you’re overcome with such an intense want for him. You moan out loud, shamefully loud, and he grins against your skin. Heat spreads over you, radiating from every point where your body connects with his. He keeps making all these wonderful, lewd noises- groans and breathy “oh fuck”s and unintelligible praise. The unhurried roll of his hips is driving you mad with bliss, to the point where you’re almost delirious.
“You’re so perfect, Y/N,” He groans. You try to respond, but you’re so overwhelmed by aching need and the heavenly drag of his cock in an out of you that you can’t manage more than desperate panting. You’re trembling beneath him, consumed with unfamiliar feelings and a fire that keeps threatening to break loose in your body. Unfathomable ecstasy washes over you when he finds your clit again, rubbing it to the beat of his thrusts. “I want to see you become undone for me,” he purrs.
So you do. It’s everything you thought it would be- heaven, paradise, a high you know you could never get from any drug. Your release triggers his, and you watch his face contort in euphoria.
Still in a haze, you untangle yourselves. He pulls you close to him, your back against his chest. Both of you are sweaty and practically burning up from your previous activities, but you don’t mind at all. “That was… amazing. You’re amazing,” He mumbles into your hair.
“You’re not too bad yourself.” You giggle, exhausted from your adventure.
“I love you so much, you know that, right?” You turn to face him and he props himself up on an elbow.
“Of course I do. I love you, too,” you say, and you mean it. He smiles and pecks you on the lips.
I know this nose art is for the Bad Batch, but I can’t help but imagine another Clone Unit with a stronger claim on the Senator as a mascot. (And how much Anakin would FLIP THE FUCK OUT)
… And it looks like the paneling repair will have to wait, as his General’s boots appear next to his head beside the transport’s landing gear. He pushes himself out from under the machine on a dolly, flat on his back.
“What is THAT?!” his fearless leader yelps, pointing dramatically, emphatically upwards and towards the nose.
He scoots out farther, past General Skywalker’s legs, and props himself up on his elbows to take in the three-quarters-finished pinup Hardcase has been taking such pains with for the last four hours.
“Morale booster, sir. Couldn’t do something clever like the 104th and their Plo’s Bros or anything, so–”
“So you chose SENATOR AMIDALA?!” Did his voice just crack? It did.
He shrugs. “Sure. She’s been through enough hell and high water with us.”
“She’s a SENATOR!”
“And she’s a keen eye with that blaster,” he reasons, jerking his head up to the painting, and the flawlessly detailed replica of the Senator’s favored sidearm, primed to fire and held at a jaunty, confident angle. He even got the chipped paint over the trigger guard right.
“Got the looks for it too!” Hardcase yells down from where he’s shading in a long bare stretch of thigh, pausing to vigorously shake his can of spray paint. “We might finally be able to give the 327th a run for their money, with General Secura and all.”
“GENERAL SECURA is half naked on the nose of a transport?!”
“What? No!” Of course not, that’s just tasteless.
There’s a clatter from up above as Hardcase puts his paints down and leans over the scaffolding, a hand wobbling skeptically. “Well… Technically…”
“She’s in her usual outfit, y’know, with the–” Rex explains, and zig-zags a finger down from his head, mimicking the General’s lekku straps. “–and the leather pants.”
“It’s just a little leg, Anakin, I don’t see what you’re so upset about.”
Oh thank all the stars and little planets. Backup. General Kenobi steps up beside his former Padawan to admire the paint job himself. “Excellent work on her hair, Hardcase,” Kenobi continues, tilting his head.
“Thank you, sir. Run a probe with some white and a little metallic gold through the wet paint, gets it to streak so the shine looks real.”
General Skywalker is starting to do that thing where he puffs up like an angry coppi lizard and splutters furiously while he tries to think of something else to be upset about. He can hear Fives rolling his eyes from the opposite side of the transport. General. Honestly. If you’re trying to keep a relationship secret, openly displaying your klik-wide jealous streak is not how you do it.
“The 212’s is worse, anyway,” Kenobi muses idly, as Hardcase carefully adds the supposedly “very distinctive” freckle high on the Senator’s hip, just below the split in her modified favorite Council dress. Skywalker starts to go wide-eyed at that, because his sabacc face out of genuine combat is complete sleenshit, and startles when his master continues.
“She’s on the 212th transport too?!”
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t have duplicates, that defeats the purpose,” Kenobi says, in that too-reasonable tone he takes on when he’s deliberately fucking with his former Padawan.
“'Cept Master Ti,” Echo yells, from somewhere inside the paneling he and Rex had been working on.
“Except Master Ti, yes,” Kenobi agrees, and shrugs. “But that’s to be expected. Rather like how so many people have that arm tattoo of a heart with the ribbon that says ‘Mom’.”
Rex personally knew of at least eight other clones that had that exact tattoo, though the ribbon was usually striped like Master Ti’s headtails, and nods agreeably. That seems to have sufficiently diverted Skywalker, or at least confused him.
“Then how is it worse?” Skywalker asks, a little desperately, then his face lights up completely with slightly malicious anticipation. “Is it the Duchess?!”
Oh boy. Rex looks up at Hardcase, who is biting down on his paint-splattered fist to keep from laughing, as General Kenobi gets that look.
“Certainly not,” Kenobi says sternly, and waits a full beat to drop his bombshell. “It’s me.”
Skywalker just stares.
“Though I’m reasonably certain Duchess Kryze had something to do with it, given the way I’m half falling out of my robes.”
Now he looks vaguely green.
“Or it’s some perverse joke of Master Windu’s. It seems his style. Cody refuses to tell me.”
And before Skywalker can come up with anything else to protest, Kenobi adds:
“Besides, Senator Amidala loves it. Hers, I mean. I haven’t asked her about mine.”
Apparently even Jedi can choke on air when sufficiently surprised. But really, where did he think they’d gotten the preliminary sketches from?
Looking around Wakanda at all the vibranium armor and weaponry makes Steve heartsick. He thinks he hides it well, until T'Challa presents him with a brand new vibranium shield of his own.
The view from Bucky’s room was so breathtaking that Steve had rotated the Cryo-chamber towards the windows in hopes of making Buck’s dreams a little bit better. For Steve it was almost hypnotic, between the fog thick forest and the constant chorus of bird calls, he could spend hours upon hours just sitting there.
If he had been in a brighter mood he would have made a joke about putting a cat bell on the king. “If only,” he mused, tearing his eyes away from the windows. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around for a few days.”
T’Challa nodded slowly with an apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I was working on something important,” he explained, holding the large tactical case he had in hand a little higher. “Something I believe you will appreciate.”
Hope swelled in his chest. “Something to help Bucky?”
“While I share your enthusiasm for Mr. Barnes’ health this is something for you,” he said, stepping over to set the case on the desk. “I have noticed that you have not been yourself. Which is understandable given the circumstances. I had promised myself that I would help you just as I will your friend, and began working on something I had originally thought a sentimental comfort.”
Steve was thoroughly confused by this point and had gotten up from his chair to join T’Challa at the desk. “You….made something for me?” he asked hesitantly.
The king nodded and gestured for Steve to open the case. “Please.”
Steve cleared his throat and reached down to unhook the clasps and lift the lid. A startled laugh left him when he saw what was nestled in the foam.
“I tried to make it as close to the original as I could but I fear some things won’t be the same, “T’Challa said. “I saw from photos that there was an issue with the paint chipping, so I dyed the metal itself the appropriate colors. No chipping or fading.”
His fingers shook as he splayed them across the metal, tracing the star like he was trying to memorize it. “You-” he choked out, having to clear his throat again. “You made me a new shield?”
“When you first arrived here I saw your fascination with our Vibranium and thought to give you something of your own, something sentimental, but recently I have seen the fault in my thinking. You did not need sentimentality, you needed a piece of you returned.”
By this point Steve was on the verge of a breakdown, the pressure and the emotional turmoil he’d held back all rushing forward at the sight of the familiar gear. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say.”
With a kind smile he took hold of Steve’s shoulder. “My friend, there is never a need to say anything about the righting of a wrong. It is a task that those of us with the means to do so happily comply.”
Steve gasped out a harsh breath and sniffed. “Tony said that it wasn’t mine. Not really.”
“Mr. Stark’s words to you were spoken in anger,” he soothed, tightening his grip slightly. “While you may find some truth in them, others will not. The world needs the shield, whether it is carried by Captain America or Steve Rogers.”
He couldn’t help the tear that streaked down his cheek. “Thank you, T’Challa,” he whispered.
i saw a post that said “when you hear Vincent Van Gogh, do you think of starry night or bloody ear?” and all i could think about was his sunflowers and how his memorial is sunflowers and fields of them and how you can go and pick as many as you want and how he was barely holding on but painting was his way to cope and he was such a deeply sad man and still his paintings were beautiful and filled w bright colors and life and happiness and if that’s not proof that the things you love truly can keep you going (even if it’s not forever) then i don’t know what is cause yeah yanno maybe he cut off his ear but he found a way to make his pain beautiful and he was constantly looking for a way to hang on and i think that’s proof that as humans our nature is to fight cause we have that fight or flight mode right and he was so low that he tried eating yellow paint to make him happy inside and i really wonder what he would be like if he was alive now?? like would he still paint as beautiful? would his pain still be as unbearable as it was to him??? would he have cut off his ear?? maybe he would have made person the thing that wills him to hold on, instead of eating paint chips or painting. and i think that’s just proof that we all have more fight in us than we think we do because he thought eating yellow paint and cutting off his ear was his lowest point, and maybe it was, but the very thought of him eating yellow paint made him survive and kept him going for just a while longer and maybe it wasn’t forever but sometimes the things we find solace and consolation in, keep us alive for longer than we thought was even possible, and i think we all have our yellow paints and things we do to help us survive even if they’re odd, or make no sense, or end up hurting us even more and i think he’s a pretty fuckin rockin man and i wish everyone would have loved and appreciated him more because his paintings (and just him in general) is deadass proof that when things are shitty and you’re at rock bottom, sometimes all you can do is slap a paint brush against paper and hope for something prettier than your chaotic mind. or write and write and write until your hand cramps and hope to silence your thoughts. or sing, or dance, or run, or call someone, or simply confide in a person who’s hand is outstretched and waiting for you to take it. and i think that’s good, i think we all have our yellow paints and sunflowers and starry nights. i think beauty comes from all things painful (not to romanticize anything because self destruction is not beautiful but the strength you gain from getting over it is) and anyways, i hope you find your yellow paint and i hope it keeps you alive. i hope you allow sunflowers to bloom from your lungs and i hope you allow yourself room to breathe and grow and become the artist (in any way you express yourself) that you’re meant to be.