i hope that this is what you meant

justineinwander  asked:

Sheith: a moment post reunion now that Keith realized his feelings for shiro

This is my first time writing Sheith! I know this is your OTP, so I hope this does the pairing you love justice!! I wasn’t sure if you meant post-Garrison reunion or post season 2, so I went with Garrison. Hope you enjoy it love 💗

At the Garrison, Keith often sees the warmth between the other cadets, the murmured intimacies, watches them slipping into dark corners from the corner of his eye. He’s a casual observer, disengaged, distant. He knows what it means, but he never feels the lack of it in his own life.

To Keith, the heart is just another muscle in the body. It pumps blood through his body and keeps him healthy; speeds up when danger is near, slows down when he finds himself in the serenity of nature, alone as he gazes up at the stars.

He lets it be.

And so he underestimates the damage it is capable of inflicting; the searing pain that rips through him like a tremor.

He underestimates its capacity to render him senseless, to force him to confront a part of himself he had locked away when his father left with the hopes of never facing it again.

He underestimates its capacity to strip him raw.

In the dark nights that follow, Keith finds a new focus in searching for answers,  channeling his pain into purpose, pushing away the physically aching throbbing that often threatens to choke him in the middle of the night.

And yet he still fails to realize what it means; the force that drives him forward.

Only one year later, in the flickering, haunted gaze of the man he had thought he would never seen again, does Keith find his answer, as he grips his arms and murmurs his name.  

What his heart fails to tell him, what his brain refuses to recognize, he finds in Shiro’s eyes — what he feels is love.

Bite Me

This was requested from someone who meant to be anonymous, so I am posting this separate from their ask. Hope you like it, sweetie.

Tagging those who might be interested : @queencobblefreezestuff  @bidennisreynolds  @multi-villain-imagines  @aya-fay  @elliotsbutt  @miss-harleenquinzel  @moaningvaleska  @noodlecupcakes  @dv8n666ways

Prompts were “If that’s what you’re into” and “sorry, thought you said bite me”. I tweaked the prompts to fit the narrative better.

warnings for mild violence, a little love bite, Victor being Victor, some cursing/swearing

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anonymous asked:

Happy birthday!!! I know it's a little late, but I do hope you had an exceptional day!! For the prompt fill, I was wondering if you could do some platonic kidge? I just love to see pidge and Keith bonding over mutual hatred, cynicism, teasing, sarcasm, and giggles. Maybe Pidge giving Keith a hard time about his crush?? Or them being stuck/stranded somewhere? Idek, I know it'll be great as long as you write it, lol. I love you and your blog and writing so much! Thank you for continuing to share💖

ANON WHAT A GREAT CHOICE i love platonic keith & pidge so much lakjdf

“I’m bored,” Pidge says, flopping back onto the couch. Keith glances over at her from his end of the seat, used to her dramatics at this point. “Keith,” Pidge says. “I’m bored.” 

“I heard you,” Keith says idly, not looking up from his book. He sticks a thumb in it, though, because when Pidge was bored, something dangerous and/or hilarious tended to follow. 

She shuffles her body around a little, making a face. “I think we should fix the antigrav in the room,” she says. 

“The antigrav isn’t broken,” Keith points out, as they are, quite clearly, sitting on the couch, following the rules of gravity. 

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Pidge says. “It’s broken if the goal is that we actually don’t have antigrav and you and I try to duel with our bayards while floating.” 

“Hm,” Keith says, because he’s actually kind of intrigued by that. 

“C’mon,” Pidge says, trying to sound convincing. “You’re the one that ends up floating in space the most often, wouldn’t you like to practice fighting in similar conditions?”

Keith glances at the doorway, and then back at Pidge. “No one is supposed to be back from the supply run for another hour,” he says. 

“I can have us in the air in three,” Pidge promises, eyes flashing behind her glasses. 

Pidge manages it in two, and after a moment of spinning in place, Keith whips out his sword and very quickly realizes that he has little to no momentum, especially without his suit and its jets. 

“Ha,” Pidge says, grinning as she pulls out her own bayard. The cord of it whips past him, wrapping around a light fixture. “Lance really is the tactics in your relationship, huh?” She zooms past him, kicking out, and he leans back just in time to avoid a foot in his face. He manages to snag the back of her shirt, and gets pulled along in her wake, and although he ends up hitting the wall, it works out in his favor – he springboards off of it, launching himself at her, grinning when she shrieks with fake terror and swings out of his way again.

The others find them still floating in the air, laughing at each other – Keith has been gently shocked multiple times, hair standing slightly on end, and Pidge has been wedged upside down under a chandelier light and can’t move. Lance mutters something about children and goes to get Hunk, but not before blowing a taunting kiss at Keith.

“I didn’t think about us getting back down,” Pidge admits to Keith, still grinning, and he bursts into laughter again.

Birthday Celebration #13.

Prompt: Where are you, Nat? This place is fancy and I don’t know which fork to kill myself with.“ - Based on a quote by @mcu-incorrect-quotes

Word Count: 773.

Characters: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Birthday drabble for Alina, hope you enjoy it @sergeantkillerthighs, sorry for the delay and the shitty writing of this one.
Thanks to @evanstanss for beta read this for me.

Originally posted by justdaydreamsandimagines

If there was something Clint Barton didn’t like it was undercover missions, especially those that involved him doing field work and pretending to be someone he was not. No, Clint Barton did not at all like being someone he was not and what it meant; wearing clothes that felt like a disguise to him, putting some kind of complicated accent or even, altering his physical appearance. The memory of that time he needed to grow a moustache still made his face itch, a 70s porn star was what he looked like that time.

Barton preferred to be the observant silent type of agent that would provide intel when needed until it was time to take action. Action as himself, not someone else, from the highs where his arrows never missed a target except when he ran out of them. Body combat was what followed next, a pretty efficient one since Tony Stark improved his arch giving it some extensible blades at the extremes that made Barton felt like he was in some Star Wars movie and baring a lightsaber.

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Gone and Back Again (Rucas) Chapter Three

  Links to past chapters:

1 2 3

Quick A/N:

    I would like to thank you all for being so patient in waiting for this chapter. I hope to be posting these chapters more regularly. I would especially like to thank @sand1128 for helping me get through a couple serious cases of writer’s block. Anyways, happy reading!

   As Riley made her way to the car, she couldn’t help but beat herself up about hugging Lucas. She didn’t know what he thought it had meant. But Riley didn’t even know for herself.


   She was quickly beginning to learn how much she was going to hate being on crutches. The parking lot was easy enough to navigate them, but getting into the car seemed like a challenge. Avalon’s bright yellow Volkswagen bug stood out among the other cars, and Riley spotted it with ease. After hobbling over to the car, she tried to open her door, but it was locked, and Avalon was asleep inside. Riley hit the window with the heel of her hand a few times to wake her.

    She woke startled, and looked around to see where the noise was coming from, before seeing Riley and unlocking the doors. Riley took her crutches out from under her arms, opened the door, and got in. She ungracefully tried to toss the crutches in the back, nearly hitting Avalon in the face.

    “Woah, I know I was late paying the water bill last month but you don’t need to get violent,” Avalon joked, pulling her seat back into the upright position. “So I take it you did some serious damage, huh?”

    “Broke it. I have those stupid things for the next few weeks, and then we’ll see,” Riley replied.

    “That sucks,” Avalon voiced, tossing her long, fiery red hair behind her shoulder. She turned in her seat to halfway face Riley.

    “Tell me about it,” Riley said, rolling her eyes.

“So I guess you and Brad didn’t sleep much last night?” Riley remarked, preparing herself to hear every gory detail of their evening.

    “Nope. I’m just surprised you didn’t hear us when you got home.” Avalon laughed to herself for a second, “I feel bad for our neighbors, I mean the walls are like paper-thin, and I’m pretty sure there’s a dent from when he shoved me up against the-”

    “Okay, well, first off, I’m pretty sure I was too hammered to hear anything last night. And second, what have I said about my interest in your sex life?”

    “That you don’t care unless I say that I’m pregnant,” Avalon pouted overdramatically. Riley nodded in response.

    “Do we have any food at home?” Riley asked, digging a bottle of ibuprofen out of her purse.

    “You’ve got a serious hangover don’t you?” Avalon asked as she started the car and buckled her seatbelt.

    “So serious that I feel like I can hear colors, Av,” Riley whined, picking up a half-empty water bottle from the floorboard and taking a sip to swallow the pill.

    “Does the poor baby need some food?” Avalon asked in the most annoying voice she could.

    “Yes, she does.” Riley rolled her eyes, triggering another sharp pain that rocketed through her skull, “I could go for Whataburger right now.”

    “Hate to burst your bubble, hon, but I’ve got like five bucks,” Avalon said, taking her eyes off the road to look at Riley.

    “Well then, the McDonald’s dollar menu sounds absolutely delicious.” Riley shut her eyes, waiting for her ibuprofen to kick in.

    “Good, considering that’s about the only thing we can afford.” Suddenly, the car in front of them slammed on the brakes. Avalon managed to stop the car in time, but not without sending Riley flying forward as far as her seatbelt would allow. “Get off your phone and drive, jackass!” She shouted angrily.

    “You know what, forget McDonald’s, I can eat a can of peaches or something at home.” Riley massaged her forehead gently, as if she could magically cure her splitting headache.

    “Nonsense, you need real food, Riles,”

    “I wouldn’t really consider that as ‘real food’,” Riley laughed.

    “Shut up, we’re stopping,” Avalon responded jokingly.

    “Whatever, get me a burger and a diet coke.” Riley closed her eyes for a moment.

    The nearly deafening silence was doing nothing to help her headache. The only sound other than road noise was the occasional squealing of the brakes. Riley opened her eyes and reached for the AUX cord. She plugged it into her phone and looked for a decent song to play. Without even thinking, she clicked on her ‘Lucas Playlist’, which didn’t go unnoticed by Avalon.

    “Look, it’s gonna take us forever to get home, and I don’t want to spend that long listening to songs about how much you’ve missed Lucas, okay?” Avalon drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel as she spoke.

    “It’s not like he wrote them or anything, and besides, it’s just music.” Riley shrugged as the car stopped at a red light.

    “Whatever you say,” she paused for a second, “So what did you two talk about in there? I mean, you couldn’t have just sat in complete silence, right?”

    “I don’t know, we just talked about stuff,” Riley rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air, “We’re meeting tomorrow for lunch.”

    “Let me guess, you need a ride?” Avalon offered. The look in her brown eyes clearly meant that this was an empty gesture. The traffic light turned green, and they kept driving.

    “I’ll just call a cab, it’s fine.” Riley’s phone rang, and the name on the caller I.D. almost made her jump, “It’s the lady I went to for that job interview,” she explained, turning off the music. She took a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”

    “Hello, this is Tracey from the downtown location of the Sugar and Spice Coffee House, is this Ms. Riley Matthews?” The cheery voice on the other line answered

    “This is she.”

    “Ms. Matthews, I regret to inform you of this but we decided to choose a different candidate for the position.” Riley face fell at the words. She really thought she would land this job.

    “Thank you for letting me know.” She said dryly, before ending the call. She dropped her phone back into her lap and let out a heavy sigh.

    “You didn’t get it did you?” Avalon asked gently. Riley only shook her head in response.

    “I didn’t want to have to do it, but I guess I’ll have to visit my parents tomorrow night and ask them to loan me some money.” Riley sighed again. They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant as it started to rain. It was just a few sprinkled raindrops at first, but that didn’t last long. In a matter of seconds it had turned into a complete downpour.

    “The drive-through line is pretty long, I’ll go in, you stay in the car,” Avalon asked as she opened the car door.

    “Yeah.” Riley answered simply. Avalon nodded and got out of the car, rushing because of  the rain. She came back out a few minutes later with their food.

    They decided to eat in the car, and then spent the next twenty minutes talking. Riley was pretty upset over not getting the job, and all she really wanted to do was to go home and sleep. Between her hangover, ankle, and the news about the job, she was emotionally and physically exhausted.

    It still hadn’t quit raining by the time they reached their apartment building and it didn’t look like it’d be letting up anytime soon. Riley ungracefully pulled her crutches out of the backseat and got out of the car, becoming completely drenched as soon as she was out. Avalon was almost to the door by the time Riley was even out of the car.The rushed to the elevator once they got inside and took it up to their floor. Once they were  inside their apartment, Riley curled up on the couch and fell asleep almost instantly, not caring that she was still in her rain-soaked clothes.

A thought was weighing on her the second she woke. It felt like she’d forgotten something- something important. Then, it hit her. She wasn’t sure why she was remembering it now. Maybe she dreamt about it, but who could say for sure? All she could think about was how stupid she had been when she forgot to give Lucas her phone number. Luckily, she did have his. Her purse was on the floor beside the couch, right where she’d left it before falling asleep. She dug around inside her purse until she found her phone and took it out. The harsh, bright light of her phone made her wince. Her fingers shook as she pressed the “call” button. She had no idea why she was so nervous. After all, when it came down to it, it was just a phone call. But telling herself that did nothing to calm her nerves.

    It rang a couple of times before she got an answer. The second she heard the “click” saying that the call had gone through, she started talking. “Hey Lucas, it’s Riley.” She greeted him, trying both to sound cheerful and not to sound like she’d just woken up.

    “Hey Riles-” He interrupted himself, Wait, can I call you that?” He sounded nervous as he spoke. At least his nervousness helped Riley to overcome hers.

    “You’re fine,” Riley giggled, “Force of habit, right?”

    “Are you okay? You sound like you just woke up.” Riley smiled. It felt good to talk to him again like this.

    “You must be psychic,” Riley cooed, laying back down.

    “See, there once was a time, Riley, when I heard that voice almost weekly. We’d watch a movie in your dorm room, you’d fall asleep with your head on my chest, I’d wake you up when the movie ended and you’d beg me to stay the night.” Lucas’ voice was steady, and almost flirty.

    “And you would most times. We’d snuggle up under the covers and fall asleep in eachother’s arms.” Riley got lost in her memories for a second.

    Lucas cleared his throat. “So why did you call?” It seemed like he’d gotten caught up in nostalgia too.

    “Oh, I uh, I forgot to give you my new number earlier. So here it is,” Riley’s cheeks turned bright pink.

    “Oh. But I do have to admit, I always did love the sound of your voice in the morning,” Lucas chuckled. Riley let out a laugh herself.

    “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Riley asked.

    “Yeah, see you then.” Riley didn’t want to hang up. She wanted to just keep talking to him- forever. After all, that had always been their favorite thing about their relationship. “Bye Riles.”

    “Bye Luke.” Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe she said that. Sure, to some it may seem like a sweet, endearing nickname, but for her, it was so much more than that.


    It was one of those winter nights when the only thing to do was wrap yourself in a blanket and wait for the heat to kick on. Friday night- the one night of the week when Riley’s roommate was out. Friday night also meant that Lucas would probably be over.


    Riley pulled a soft, cropped t-shirt over her head as she waited for her microwave popcorn to finish cooking. She heard a knock at her door, and she automatically knew who it was. She opened the door wide to find Lucas standing in the hall.


    “Hey, baby!” Riley exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug. They stood in the doorway like that until the microwave went off.


    “Riles you’ve got to be freezing,” Lucas voiced as they pulled apart, pointing out her terry cloth shorts and t-shirt. He came inside and shut the door behind him.


    “I’ve got you to keep me warm, now don’t I?” Riley suggested.


    “At least I finally know the real reason you invited me over,” Lucas joked, “So what are we watching tonight?”


    “I was thinking ‘Queen of the South’ if that’s okay with you?” Riley grabbed his hand as they both crossed the small room to her bed. She crawled under the covers and patted the space beside her, telling him to join.


    “You mean the show where you jump up into my lap every time somebody gets shot? Why wouldn’t I want to watch?” Lucas kicked off his shoes beside the bed and grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave. He poured it into a bowl for the two of them to share.


    “Hurry up, it’s about to start!” Riley demanded. Lucas quickly sat the bowl of popcorn on her lap and joined her under the covers. Riley ate a couple handfuls of popcorn before handing the bowl to him. “I don’t remember anything that happened in the last episode,” Riley confessed.


    “Probably because we were too busy making out to actually watch,” Lucas suggested, making Riley blush, “Not that I minded.”


    “How do you feel about a repeat, then?” Riley whispered seductively into his ear. Before he could even answer, she started to plant soft kisses along his jawline. She paused for a moment and looked into his eyes. Her heart was already racing.


    Seemingly out of nowhere, Lucas rolled over onto his side and kissed her passionately. His right hand was on Riley’s cheek, while his left rested on the small of her back. Riley pulled away and broke the kiss for just a second. She climbed on top of him and ran her hand up under his shirt, before taking the shirt off altogether. Riley picked up the bowl of popcorn and set it on the floor to get it out of the way, keeping her eyes locked on his as she did. Lucas smiled before gently, albeit aggressively, pulled her closer to him.


    “This is okay, right?” Lucas asked. He always asked that when they pushed things any further than kissing. This confused Riley because he hadn’t really done anything other that kiss her so far.


    “Is what okay?” Riley asked, breathing heavily from pure excitement. The noise from the television went on in the background, but it didn’t seem to phase either of them.


    “This,” Lucas responded. He looked into her eyes as he slowly lifted the hem of her shirt no more than a couple of inches and let his hands rest at her waist.


    “It’s perfect,” Riley breathed as she leaned in to continue their kiss. She twirled a section of his short hair with her finger. She opened her mouth just the slightest bit against his and grazed her teeth softly against his bottom lip. Lucas took his hands off Riley’s waist just long enough to take the hair elastic out of her ponytail. Riley drew in a sharp breath as she felt his fingers run through her hair, sending a shiver down her spine. His hands returned quickly to their position , almost on her hips. But not without skimming over her stomach and traveling up almost to her chest.


    “Riles is it okay if I-” Lucas started to ask.


    “Go right ahead, but let’s not go any farther, alright?” Riley cut him off, like she knew what he was thinking before he said it. Lucas nodded as he pulled Riley’s shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed. As soon as the piece of clothing had been removed, he started to softly and slowly kiss along her collarbone. He eventually moved to the base of her neck, kissing her so hard that she knew it would leave a dark hickey to cover up the next morning. Riley let out a soft moan as he continued to plant kisses along the base of her neck.


    Riley slid off of him and lay on her back, motioning for him to follow her.  Lucas moved forward and straddled her. They began to kiss again, this time with even more passion than before. Riley wrapped her legs around Lucas’ waist as she pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. His hands running over her chest- which is only covered by the lacey bralette she was wearing. The two of them were pressed together so closely that they were nearly one person. Lucas started to play with her hair again with one hand as he slipped the other under her back to get rid of any remaining space between them.


    There was a sudden knock on the door, which startled both of them.


    “Please don’t let that be the R.A.,” Riley prayed aloud as she quickly got out of the bed and slipped her shirt back on. Lucas sat back up in the bed and tried to act casual as Riley walked to the door. The young man on the other side of the door looked vaguely familiar as he handed Riley the pizza she’d ordered. Riley figured she knew him from one of her classes. The door was open just wide enough for him to see a shirtless Lucas on the bed.


    “Well if it isn’t Saint Lucas!” the man, whose nametag read Nate pointed out. Now Riley knew where she’d seen him before. He was one of the guys that Lucas hung out with. From what Riley remembered, he wasn’t exactly the nicest guy on campus. He was notorious for his borderline obnoxious flirting- even with girls who clearly weren’t single.


    “Yeah, just spending the night in with my girlfriend,” Lucas replied as he came up to the door himself, “Is that a problem?”


    “I can’t believe I’m seeing the innocent Saint Lucas in a girl’s dorm,” Nate joked. Riley went to her dresser and grabbed her purse from its place on top of it. She dug out a twenty-dollar bill to cover the cost of the pizza exactly- she had no intentions of leaving a tip.


    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Riley interjected as she walked back to the door.


    “Well Luke has this whole ‘southern gentleman’ thing going on and it’s pretty obvious that you two were getting it on in here before I showed up.” He seemed so pleased with himself for calling them out, but Lucas didn’t seem happy at all.


    “Why would you think that?” Riley defended.


    Nate looked at Riley, “Most people don’t wear their shirt inside out and backwards sweetheart,” He paused for a second to look inside the room, “Luke’s shirt is on the floor by the bed, and the bed’s unmade,” Nate finished.


    “What’s your problem man?” Lucas growled, shoving him. “So what if we were doing it, huh?” Lucas demanded. Riley could tell he was starting to get angry, and all she wanted was for this conversation to end.


    “Me? I don’t have a problem,” He laughed, “I’m just making sure this sweet thing is getting everything she deserves.”


    Riley was frustrated as she handed him the money. “I think you should go,” she said flatly.


    “What, no tip?” he asked, trying to look offended.


    “Here’s a tip,” Lucas started, crossing his arms, “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that.”


    Nate leaned in closer to Riley to make sure she could hear, but made sure to speak loudly enough for Lucas to hear as well, “You just let me know if he’s not good enough.”


    “Get out of my room, now,” she ordered him, tears brimming in her eyes. He laughed to himself quietly as he walked out the door and shut it behind him. Riley stood there, speechless. It wasn’t the first times she’d been hit on, but no one had been brave enough to do it with her boyfriend standing right there. She leaned against the door and sighed.


    “Riley, come here,” Lucas offered, his arms open wide to hold her if she needed. Riley smiled, even though she  was still upset. She practically fell into him and Lucas had to grab onto the dresser to keep them both from falling to the floor. He kissed the top of her head. Riley was the one to pull away after a while.


    “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset over this,” Riley apologized.


    “You don’t have to be sorry. He had no right to say that to you,” Lucas said, putting his hands on her shoulders.


    “Can we just forget it ever happened?” she asked.


    “Of course we can. Let’s go finish this episode.”


Riley nodded in agreement and walked over to the bed. She took off her shirt to turn it rightside out and Lucas couldn’t help but stare. She blushed but didn’t say anything. They climbed into bed together and Lucas pulled the covers up over them. The two settled in and managed to catch the last few minutes of an episode, and just as Lucas had predicted, Riley practically jumped into his lap every time something scary or shocking happened.


    “So I just realized something,” Riley started to speak but she paused to gather her thoughts, “We’ve been together for like five years and I still don’t have a pet name for you.” Riley smiled as she looked into his eyes.


    “You call me ‘Bear’ all the time,” Lucas noted.


    “Yeah but that one’s so sappy and sentimental though,” Riley explained, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.


    “Oh, baby I almost forgot. I heard back from that record label today,” Lucas unintentionally changed the subject.


    “What did they say?” Riley asked, getting excited.


    “It’s not really official yet, but they want to take me on,” Lucas said with a smile.


    “That’s the best news ever! How could you forget to tell me about it?” Riley kissed  him out of pure excitement, but it was a short, sweet kiss.


    “Well you never really gave me the chance to tell you,” he joked.


    “Maybe they’ll make you shorten your name down to Luke,” Riley thought out loud, “Luke Friar, it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Riley giggled, “I mean, a lot of people call you that already.”


    “You’re really cute sometimes, Riley,” he admitted, feeling around under the covers for her hand and lacing their fingers together.


    “Maybe that’ll be my nickname for you,”  Riley suggested, resting her head on his shoulder.


    “All you did was take a syllable off my name,” Lucas laughed as he looked down at Riley.


    “You did the same to mine and I never complain when you call me Riles,” she pointed out moving in closer to Lucas.


    “Fair enough, that’s what you call me when you talk in your sleep anyways,” Lucas commented.


    “I don’t sleep talk!” Riley protested.


    “Whatever you say Riles.”  Lucas sighed as he put his arm around Riley’s shoulders. Riley snuggled up against him. She ran her fingertips over his bare chest and smiled to herself. Lucas kissed the top of her head lovingly. She could smell his signature scent- pine and sandalwood- something so uniquely Lucas to her.


    “Sleepy,” Riley mumbled as she climbed up into his lap. She leaned her head on his chest as he stroked her arm. The steady beat of his heart was almost enough to put her to sleep as he held her close to him.


    “It’s barely nine, how can you be so tired?” The only response he received was a halfhearted shrug. “Don’t you at least want to get ready for bed?” He asked. She sluggishly climbed back off of him and got out of bed. She picked his shirt up off the floor and slung it over her shoulder as she went into the bathroom. She quickly brushed her teeth and undressed before putting on Lucas’ shirt.


    “Your toothbrush is still in there,” Riley reminded him as she came out of the bathroom. Lucas nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the sight of her in his shirt. “We didn’t eat any of that pizza but I guess we could have it for breakfast tomorrow,” she suggested.


    “Okay,” Lucas agreed as he got up out of the bed, “You get in bed, I’ll be out in a second and we can settle in.”  Riley nodded as she walked past him to get in bed. She was half asleep by the time he got in bed with her. She could feel it as he wrapped his arms around her waist.


    “Night,” She mumbled, mostly into the pillow.


    “Night, Riles. I love you.” He replied. Riley could feel his breath against her ear.


    “Love you more Luke.”


    Riley was brought back to reality when her phone slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor. Her thoughts were still clouded as she picked it up. Thoughts and memories like these had surfaced a few times, but this was different. This wasn’t because she was lonely and she couldn’t stop thinking about him, she knew that much at least. Missing him seemed to be the most obvious reason, and that was the worst part.

    She’d been trying her best since they broke up to shut down whatever thoughts she had about how much she missed him. It worked for a while- she’d keep herself occupied, so busy that she didn’t have a spare second to stop and think about him. She signed up for study groups for her classes, started working more hours, and even started volunteering at the library. It worked, as long as she stayed busy and kept her mind even busier. But every night, as she drove home, as she got ready for bed, as she tried to fall asleep, he’d come to mind.

    It hurt every single time. Every memory, it seemed to cut like a knife. Her downward spiral had started only a few days after they broke up. It wasn’t long before she asked her doctor for something to help her fall asleep- claiming that it usually took an hour for her to fall asleep, and that once she did, she’d wake up several times a night. She never let herself have any downtime either. If she wasn’t working or at a class, she was studying like a madwoman. That wasn’t entirely a bad thing because she was doing much better with her classwork, but it seemed that Riley didn’t know how to do anything in moderation.

    She’d study until almost four A.M., knock herself out with her medication for a couple hours, wake up exhausted, fill her body with caffeine to function. She was always tired, yet somehow full of energy. Anyone who spent much time with her always described her as zombie-like. The five-minute breaks she’d get at work were rarely ever taken- she’d just work right through them without even caring or complaining about how sore her feet were or how tired she was.

    All of her extra work was bringing in more money, and that was always the excuse she gave anyone who said she worked too much.

    “Just getting a head start studying for finals!” she’d say if anyone made a comment about how much she studied. She couldn’t even admit to herself that she’d turned into a workaholic. It had become so routine for her that sometimes she forgot why she worked herself half to death. Sometimes. But sometimes was better than never at all.

    Her boss was the only one who knew why she worked so hard. She told him that she wanted to work more hours because she was going through something and she needed to keep herself as busy as she could. As horrible as her boss could be sometimes, he agreed to give her more hours, saying that he could use the help anyway.

    There were some nights though, when she didn’t get to work late, didn’t have a study group, or anything else to do. Those nights were the hardest. That was when it all came up- everything she’d tried so hard to bury. But no matter how deep she thought she’d buried it, it always found its way back up to the surface.

    She’d wallow in her own thoughts for a while, before realizing that she could sleep off all her feelings. She’d take her medication, fall asleep until her alarm went off the next morning. When she would first wake up, everything was fine. Her life was perfect. But usually within only a few seconds of crawling out of  bed, she’d remember everything. That feeling when it all hit her, that was easily the worst thing she’d ever felt. They say that the human body can’t remember pain, but that’s physical pain. And Riley Matthews knew that this was a pain she’d never forget.

    Riley took a deep breath to steady herself. What had she just done? First it was a lingering hug in a hospital waiting room, and now this? That name for him had eventually become a very endearing phrase that had all but taken the place of “I love you.” That’s when it hit her. That’s when she realized that she’d told Lucas she loved him.

ooh speaking of not being straight edge you know what i’m still bitter about is years old stale shit having casual convos with friends and acquaintances and i happen to be ask if ive ever smoked anything at all and i say no and i get what i hope was meant to be affection teasing about how im like an innocent child or a delicate spring blossom or whatever which like, irks me becoz i dont want anyone making fun of me on certain subjects where that always means being infantilized aka that i havent ever used drugs including even the good kush and i largely avoid alcohol and i havent had sex. like im really bitter on that shit being joked on in that way, i’ll talk abt it myself all i want without any solemnity but its off limits to get joshed about by other people. like as though surely my not having had these particular experiences by an acceptable age must mean im opposed to all of them and/or too much of a baby. again not as though i have to explain myself. but i dunno how people are gonna think theyre being chill about people having whatever personal relationship with drugs and sex that they feel comfortable with if theyre gonna find it unnaturally forced or laughable if its like mine where it involves No Personal Experience yet. and like i gotta explain how i feel about each subject to not be mocked for it, like they cant assume that i’m not too childish or too Abstinence Only For Everyone! without having me provide a defense for myself. it wasnt meant to be that deep whenever people teased me on it i’m sure but its the kind of thing that annoys me at the time and just keeps on annoying me. plus did i mention its patronizing cuz i hate that shit too. never know what “guess what i’m bitter about” posts i’m making at 4:44am…..

  • fanfic writer: *writing* Oh wow, they are going to love this. This is by far my best work!
  • fic: *witty lines* *perfect love making* *fluffy enough to kill us all* *a dash of angst, a smidgen of hurt/comfort*
  • fanfic writer: Oh man. This is it. This will be my legacy! *sweats into fic* *bleeds into fic* *cries into fic* *spends days perfecting the grammar and verbage and sex scenes* *has 15 betas look over it*
  • fanfic writer: Okay. It is finally time to release my baby on the world. Here you go fandom. You're welcome.
  • fandom: Ha, cute. *like* *kudos*
  • fanfic writer: :/
  • * * *
  • same fanfic writer: *writing* Whatever. This is shit, I don't even care right now. A singing squirrel? Sure, let's do it. Haha, cheesy lines that make no sense, sure. Grammatical errors out the wazoo? Why not. No one's going to read this piece of crap anyway, I literally wrote it on a scrap of 1 ply toilet paper with a broken yellow crayon.
  • fanfic writer: LOL *post*
  • fanfic writer: *sigh*
I don’t know if you ever loved me. I don’t know if the late night drives and hands held meant anything to you. But I like to think they did. I like to think that a tiny smile formed on your face when you imagined the way we laughed together. I like to believe that whenever you felt sad and alone, I was the one who made you feel whole again. Because that’s what you did for me. Without ever knowing it you were making my life better. So even if you never loved me like I loved you, I hope that I still made your life better too.

I did it again. Sigh. Can’t stop drawing him. ;u;

I’ve got a pretty cool AU/ Theory for Anti that goes along with this piece! Very proud of both, haha. Basically (and very shortly told); In my AU Jack is hallucinating himself being controlled by something and uses the ‘Anti’ persona as an excuse, to kind of blame someone for what bad stuff his mind is coming up with. Murder and all. At some point, I imagined what his head/ his dreams would look like in that scenario and - tada! This is what happened. :D

Obviously the theory is just a little plot idea I had. I know Jack is not actually a lunatic who goes on murder sprees, oml. I was just like; what if he really doesn’t want to believe that he could potentially become a murderer? Or maybe doesn’t want to believe that he already is one? And THEN blames a non existent character for the bad stuff he does? Craziness, haha! Gotta love them psycho-thrillers, amirite?

The theory isn’t meant to offend Jack or anyone else in any way! I hope you like it, though. I might draw some more stuff about it in the future. C:

Thanks to @therealjacksepticeye and @pixlpit for sTILL MOTIVATING AND INSPIRING ME SO MUCH URGH! I can’t wait for the amazing stuff those two will come up with in the following months! :D

Now I will go and get me a salad. A nice salad and some ice coffee. Nom.

Note; please don’t repost/ reupload my art! C:

Also, I suggest y’all go listen to ‘MISSIO’! Amazing musicians, way too underrated! I listened to them a lot while drawing this and bOI it is good!

A kind person asked me to post some of my older works so here’s a little compilation! The top row is “frontal, hands behind back, pencil only” drawings, middle is the dawn of digital art, and bottom are my most recent pictures.

Long Live Octopus Pie

Three cheers!

I check the webpage out of habit, but Meredith Gran’s comic work Octopus Pie is over.  I feel like this is how sports fans feel when a jersey is retired and lifted to the rafters, forever in its untouchable place, time divided between when it was active and whatever comes after.  

That might sound grandiose, but in my mind, nothing tops the ten year run of Octopus Pie.  And in the lifespan of what we call Webcomics, 2007-2017 is a granddaddy of a run, worthy of names like “pioneering,” “influential” and “groundbreaking” because in the space of those years, in this new medium, there was room to be those things without any hyperbole.  The comics landscape of the past decade needed filling out and Meredith carved her space out with precision, showing a polish and drive and a talent from the beginning that set a high standard.  

I’m guessing that I started Hark a Vagrant about six months after Octopus Pie began, but Meredith’s was already a name to be reckoned with, due to the solid reputation of her previous comic Skirting Danger and because she was an honest to god trained animator in a sea of stickmen comics or two-dudes-on-a-couch comics (RIP forever *kisses fingers, holds them to the sky*). I was intimidated by her sheer capability.  But inspired too.  I did not need to be intimidated, she was one of the first people I met in comics, and easily one of the best.

Meredith and I briefly shared an apartment and a studio, and I can tell you, she can draw circles around everyone you know.  I later shared a studio with Mike Holmes, who could also draw circles around everyone, and now the two of them are married in some sort of talent supernova.  I am happy for them, even though I feel like I make grade three crayon pictures next to them.  But the other thing that being friends with Meredith for a long time has shown is the cutting wit, the care for stories done right, the love for a medium that will take you through highs and lows that come with comics, and lately through her job as a comics professor, the nurturing of upcoming talent.  I see all of this in Octopus Pie, a comic where character was paramount, where plots were expertly moved, a fine balance was found between the messiness of people and the fun you can have with stories, where subtle emotional movements where rendered with room to breathe, where I felt like I could reach deep into the hearts and minds of the characters on the page because they had been fleshed out so well over the years that they seemed as real people, people that I loved.

I don’t really like that phrase “comics will break your heart,” commonly attributed to Schultz, or Kirby, it doesn’t really matter.  You see it all the time, mostly when people are reckoning with the fact that they work in an unforgiving medium.  I don’t even know what it is about the saying that I don’t like.  Maybe it’s because we all know that comics are hard work, we all know that you might put your life and blood and heart into something and you might get nothing back.  There are no surprises to be found there - it’s not a bad day you had, it’s a life you’re well aware of living, if you do.  But we love the perserverers in comics.  The people who live the phrase are the ones who inspire us the most.

I’m saying all this, and pardon the segue, because I have seen Octopus Pie, some of the finest story work of my generation, passed for recognition time and again and it confuses the hell out of me, truly.  I don’t want to turn a tribute to a work I hold dear into sour grapes, that’s not the intention here, but lord above, if I can’t point this out now, then when can I?  We all know that there are no guarantees in this life (comics will break your heart) but I’ll say this once and then leave it: this is a comic of quality that was miles ahead of so many of its peers, and it deserved better, industry wise.  To wrap up the earlier point, maybe I don’t like CWBYH because it implies that you should shrug your shoulders and not ask for better every time, that a short end of some kind of stick is expected even.  That’s easy when it’s yourself, but speaking as a fan now, I say to heck with shrugging, I want to put Meredith on my shoulders and parade her around and dump her into a Scrooge McDuck thing full of awards.  

Actually that sounds pointy and bad and the Ignatz awards are bricks to begin with so maybe forget that analogy but you get the idea.

I hope you read Octopus Pie, I hope you buy the books.  I hope the legacy of it is long and full, because it always will be for me.  And I think readers will agree, because I know this devoted fan base pretty well.  I read the comments, I’ve sat next to Mer at comic shows, I’ve listened to some of the emails that touched her.  I know this is a comic that meant a lot, to a lot of us.  In this world of work we put our hearts and souls into to begin with, that is a wonderfully worthy thing.

I do not know what Meredith will do next, but whatever it is, I am here for it, seat pulled close to the stage.  The retired jersey is in the rafters, the game is still being played by the people who dreamed better because it was there.  Aw what can I say, I’m sentimental!

 Thanks, Meredith. <3

iseeaskyfullofstars  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this

Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.


Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”


Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?


There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.


Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”


She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.


Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.


Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.

gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here