hi i'm not dead, having a cold just killed my muse for a bit. i return now tho yayyyy
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sade Olutola
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@theartofmadeline
Jules of Nature
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

JBB: An Artblog!
art blog(derogatory)
ojovivo
d e v o n

tannertan36

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Cosimo Galluzzi

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
hello vonnie
noise dept.
Not today Justin
occasionally subtle
NASA
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@feraltyke
hi i'm not dead, having a cold just killed my muse for a bit. i return now tho yayyyy
her breath hitches at the touch and she feels content. her touch is welcomed and she feels as if she’s known her touch for years. she reaches down to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. at this point, she’d probably throw something at the delivery guy if even attempted to disrupt this moment.
she leans down and presses a soft kiss against her lips again.
oh. off goes her shirt. fuck her skin is perfect and soft. a moment of nervousness moves through indiana, because holy shit, there’s barely any flaws for her is there? meanwhile, she looks like she’s been beat with a bag of bricks. Still, she’s gorgeous like this, above her.
she kisses back, gentle and eager as her fingers carefully play with her, one shifting to lightly pinch a nipple.
@feraltyke
“Why is it so important for you to feel pain?”
a pause. a grimace.
‘ imagine never knowing if you’re pushing yourself too far, or if you’ve broken something. imagine collapsing without knowing why because of an injury you can’t feel. think about that and tell me why i think it’s fuckin’ important. ‘
ln a black tank-top and black gym shorts, Aleister’s out for a run. Staying sober is a goddamn bitch, and nobody ever tells you detoxing and withdrawal is the fucking easy part. So, six months later and every time he feels like jamming a needle in his vein (which is often), he hits the gym or runs until he can’t anymore.
‘Until he can’t anymore’ is apparently right. Aleister slows to a job and gradually to a stop, panting as he tries to catch his breath, palm against the wall of a building.
“Uh?” The sight of a young woman catches his attention. He sees blood.
“What the fuck?”
the voice makes her stop, and she spares him a glance before raising an eyebrow. ‘ y’never picked at a scab before? ‘
pick pick, pick pick. back to business, except in this case, business is trying to pry off the dumb scab. she bleeds more and mutters a curse, shifting so she can lick some of the blood off her palm to clean it. coppery and raw. yup, that’s blood alright. at least she’s got that down normal.
‘ you should try it sometime. pretty therapeutic, ‘cept for the bleeding. ‘ and pain, probably, but she’s missing that.
he hands her the phone, gives her the decent - taken photo. “ not bad fer smart - assery, eh ? “
eagerly, she looks at the picture, and yeah, that’s actually pretty good.
‘ it’s pretty fuckin’ good for smart-assery. impressive. ‘
her breath hitches at the touch in mere anticipation of what would or could happen. she thought she was going to spend her entire afternoon doing nothing but sitting around. now she’s sitting on top of a beautiful woman who wants to touch her.
she lifts her head so she can get a better look at her.
“It’s okay.”
a breath she didn’t even know she was holding escapes her lips, fingers brushing underneath the fabric as soon as she gets the okay. she meets her eyes and keeps the contact, breath heavy as she shifts to kiss her again, pecking at her lips and her throat.
‘ okay. ‘
rough hands are incredibly careful with her, gentle as she grasps her breasts.
she doesn’t flinch or move away at the touch. she welcomes the way her fingertips feel against her skin. she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t starved for affection. she misses someone kissing her and touching her.
her lips trail from hers again, moving along her jaw and down her neck. she nips lightly at the skin with every other kiss.
a soft sound escapes her mouth as the other kissed at her neck and throat. her hands press up a little, careful as her fingers brush over her bra, lower lip between her teeth as she looks down at the other, careful. her hands don’t shake, what, your hands are shaking, shut up.
‘ is this okay, bloem? ‘
“ I like not having to pay for things. ”
‘ and i like paying for you, it’s a win win. ‘
stuff i’ve texted to my sister
“ You don’t know what I’ve done. ” “ You have failed me. ” “ We can talk when you get home. ” “ I love how you say ‘we’ to make it seem as though this wasn’t entirely your idea. ” “ Yeah well I mean, you have it, you should use it. ” “ I’ll just agree with you for now because I don’t want you getting mad at me. ” “ What happened to all of that debilitating self hatred of your appearance? ” “ I like not having to pay for things. ” “ We’re proud of you. ” “ Cool bag. ” “ Good luck with finding them. ” “ Be in the mouth of the wolf. ” “ Exactly. You’re not sure. ” “ What was the size? ” “ I’m sure that it did kill you. ” “ Oh dang. I know the feeling. Poor child. ” “ And by halfway, I mean I started only recently. ” “ It’s just habit. ” “ He can come and visit me in my natural habitat. ” “ I wouldn’t look good though. ” “ He would look good in a trash can. Let’s put him in one. ” “ Because you take joy both when being nice to someone and when antagonizing them. ” “ Smile lines are better than angry lines. ” “ How are you getting home? ” “ You’re the one who got snappy first. ” “ Sorry it’s such a huge deal for you. ” “ Well excuse me for just wondering what you’re up to. ” “ I want them broken up already. ” “ Will you pay me? ” “ I wanted to keep something of it. ” “ Don’t stuff it up! ” “ We will persevere. ” “ Too late now. Bad luck. ” “ Like ‘yeah. This is life.’ ” “ I’m exhausted. I just walked up two flights of stairs. ” “ Okay. Your vocabulary is very limited now. ” “ I feel like this is one of those stereotypical experiences. ”
she doesn’t mind being quieted that way. in fact, it might be the only effective way to do it. she returns the kiss eagerly, hands moving to cup her face again as she keeps her close. her own body nearly pressing against hers if it weren’t for the touch.
she’s so close, so warm and delicate under the alchemist and god, she feels rough, raw, strangely shaped and built. she kisses harder, trying to focus on anything but her own feelings and instead on how amazing nari is against her lips.
there’s a moment of hesitation before she takes a risk, sliding her fingers under her shirt.
oh, the privilege of never needing to try hard to reach something. it was a trait that ivy had been envious about, especially since any form of height enhancement ( heels, platforms, climbing on countertops – ) was just a pain in general. she sighs in relief, the battle finally won. “ah, thank you so much!”
“banana candies?” her voice is tinged with amusement, accepting the candle with a small smile. “like the kind you eat in your childhood? that’s a rather interesting way of looking at it. for me, it smells a little like flowers, but it isn’t too overbearing.”
‘ no problemo. ‘ a smile graces her as she looks at the shorter woman, empty hands now pressed into pockets, more comfortable there than outside of them anyway.
a slight flush dusts her cheeks at her voice, and. oh. flowers. right. and childhood. hahah. hahah. right.
‘ yeah, uh - you’re right. it is kinda floral. i dunno, maybe i’m just more a fan of sugar. ‘ she mentally hits herself. idiot.
she absolutely did steal the watch. not that it’s important. van lofen watches the other take a bite of her mcflurry, lets out a huff of air.
’ i wouldn’t steal from you. it’s a robin hood mentality – steal from the rich, give to the poor –’ and she’s not sure why she said it out loud. who cares? the blonde just gives her a nod.
’ anyway. would you like a french fry? ’
‘ robin hood? yeah, alright. i’m down with that. always liked the book. ‘ not like she got to finish it. her dad wasn’t a fan of books that weren’t books of learning. she remembers him throwing away her copy, yelling, screaming, telling her that ‘robin hood and other shit isn’t meant for you’. she shakes the memory away. anyway, the offer of french fries is a much better thing to focus on.
‘ hell yeah. you could have some mcflurry if y’dont mind germs. ‘
it’s troubling, running in to people who she used to be intimately familiar with. like an out-of-body experience. she’s sure she can’t feel her fingers, her toes.
it’s indiana. and abra’s face feels hot. are those books for her? the inside of her cheek is chewed at. out of body out of body out of body. indi met zero. abra hopes she doesn’t ask about him. her stomach twists.
‘ wow .’ how was she supposed to feel? abra is torn between intimacy and distance, though, she supposes indi was the one who came to her door. hopefully she hadn’t been anticipating anything but immediate skepticism.
‘ indi. you’re back. hi. ’
careful, like not wanting to scare a deer or a rabbit, or some other tender wild animal. she smiles softly, nodding her head gently. she can’t blame the angel for what she feels, can’t blame herself for the urge to hold her tightly, or to play with her hair, to kiss her. fuck.
she’s trying her damnedest to resist all her urges. she’s doing a pretty good job.
‘ yeah. i thought you might like t’spend some time together? i brought some books if you want, and sugar cookies. they’re a little burnt but they’re still edible. uh. can i come in? ‘
say yes. say yes. for the love of everything say yes. let her in.
JAMES BOND. Not the first time someone’s commented like that but the comparison never fails to make him laugh. Rourke is no agent and he doesn’t necessarily care to save the world. He’ll never be GOOD like that. —But of course, Mr. Bond is below him.
‘ —Ha !! That little punk ain’t got shit on me. ’ Rome watches as she attempts to quell the bleeding, unsure if he should offer help. He did just get his suit cleaned. ‘ Would you believe me if I said I had a meeting in that there shitstack building? ’ He jabs a thumb behind him. In truth, the meeting was over at noon. He’s just waiting.
she looks at the building before back at him, barking out a harsh laugh. ‘ sure as hell wouldn’t. y’normally see big fancy motherfuckers like you decked out and driving through this part of town. the hell could be in that building that a guy like you could even need? ‘
she realizes the laughter made her bleed more and huffs, holding the fabric of her shirt in place.
‘ you’re better than bond then? shit, impressive. ‘
half tempted to nab her jacket – suspicious eyes flutter over it, back to her as she moves back into her own reality. seyoon swallows the urge. lingering in those remnants of flavor, sugary - maple syrup - down their throat in a coating that would soothe sores and bring peace to any pains.
“people would buy it.”
they stretch their spine a bit. leaves tangling into their knotted hair, shaded like remnants of a forest fire dying down. they pull one out. throw it back into the air, watching as the wind takes it, carries it over and onto her bent shoulders.
“seyoon.” he looks at her, breath whistling between teeth.. “what about you.”
a pause, then she laughs at his comment. he’s not exactly wrong, but - ‘ they would, if people, y’know, trusted alchemy. but people trust alchemy about as much as they trust - i dunno, the easter bunny? they trust those fuckin’ mystic faith healers more than us. ‘ she mimics said faith healers, doing a cross across her chest before scoffing.
her? bitter? nahhhh.
he would seem strange to others. probably. not lots of people look like the kind of mess he does, leaves in his hair and weird moments of silence, not to mention the interesting movements. she finds it more interesting than weird. she can’t judge anyway. not being the way she is.
‘ indiana. call me indi. ‘
‘ YOU’RE KINDA’ LEAKING. ’
He’s real good at pointing out the obvious and in no way done staring. In truth, Rourke was wondering how the other sob looked, assuming this was bred of a fight. He can at least relate, especially if he pictured his younger years as an assassin. ‘ —So.. how’s your day going? ’
‘ and you look like james bond. oh, sorry, are we not stating the obvious? ‘
she shrugs at his question, lifting her shirt and practically stuffing the end in her nose. classy. but hey, it stops the bleeding, don’t it? leaning back, she raises an eyebrow at him.
‘ it’s going okay. what’s a handsome fuck like you doin’ in a shitstack like this. ‘ again, classy.
// writes starter. starter is ignored. lays on the floor