I've Got Three Different Body Pillows And A Weighted Blanket. Sometimes I'll Sandwich Myself Between

Paint With Me ( Pt. 1 )

{ markus x reader }

{ word count : 1,220 }

[ thank you! It took me for-fucking-ever to write it. And I’m happy there are people who actually enjoy my writing so, I hope you all enjoy this one :’) I wanna make this two parts…so that’s whats happening] 

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The cold Detroit winter wind brushed across your face as you walked towards the house of your longtime friend Carl. You shivered severely as you rang the doorbell. Rubbing your hands together and trying to blow warm air in them as you looked around behind you. The door opened, you turned expecting to face a lady care android. But what you came to eye contact was something you didn’t expect. The tall man before you that wore a black sweater held the door. “Can I help you?” His soft and gentle voice is what knocked you back into your shivering reality. “O-Oh I’m Y/N L/N? I’m here to see Carl?”

“Markus! Just let her in, it’s freezing out there!” You heard the old man grumble as he wheeled into the foyer, Markus nodded and opened the door wider granting you entry. You smiled and walked in slipping off your boots almost immediately after ‘Markus’ closed the door. You then unzipped your jacket and began to take it off until you felt someone pulling at the shoulders of, You turned slightly seeing Markus look back at you innocently, “Excuse me, I should have asked-“ “It’s fine…” You said with a smile. Allowing him to pull the rest of it off.

“Y/N, this is Markus…my android.” Carl said, a smile on his face, you grinned back rolling your eyes, “I mean, I see that.” You giggled following Carl as he made his way back to the studio. You watched as he got back into his lifting chair. Markus pulled back the sheet and your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight. “Dear god Carl.” You said gazing up at the wall, the older man looked down at you, “What? Not good?” He asked real concern in his eyes, you looked up at him and grinned, “It’s amazing! Oh my God Carl!”

The older man grinned then went back to painting, this was one of the reasons why Carl was so much of an inspiration to you, he was the reason why you began painting yourself. “Y/N? Do you mind passing me that paint?” He asked pointing the paintbrush over in the direction of a tall ladder with a bunch of paints on the top. “Oh…OK?” You said making your way towards the ladder before Markus’ voice broke through the air. “I can get it.” Carl glared at him from above, “No Markus. She’s got it, why don’t you get us something to drink?” You looked over at Markus, the Android paused for a second, “Yes Carl..” He looked at you for a second. “Oh- I’m fine, maybe a water?” You asked before turn looked back up at Carl. Markus nodded and walked out the studio door. You looked at the way he went and furrowed your eyebrows, looking back at Carl then shrugging. “He’s very special to me.” You smiled at the cute way he said that.

You and Carl had met when you were at an Art show in Spain with your parents, who were critics for the world. You were only around sixteen when you first met him and now you would be knowing him for over ten years because of your now turning twenty-six. You had been close, him of course as stated before being the inspiration for a lot of your art and the whole reason for your beginning as an artist in general. You smiled at your reminiscing before climbing the ladder. It gave a soft groan before cracking a bit. You looked down, your movements ultimately stopping. Fear overcame you slowly, you reached for the paints from the step you were at.

They were still too high, you furrowed your eyebrows and slowly went up another one, the ladder cracking under your weight. It was an old ladder, no one had been on it since Carl lost his legs, and you met him in a wheelchair. So why there were paints on top of a 20ft ladder, maybe he wasn’t afraid of heights when he started, who knows? You knew that you were uncomfortably high and the higher you went the more the old wooden ladder snapped and cried out in painful groans.

You gave a shaky breath reaching for the paints again when you grabbed the bottles you needed you let out a soft yes and lent back, beginning to come down before you foot slipped through the gap between the other step. As you flew back you felt as if everything was in slow motion, you were too high in the air to not hit the ground without severely hurting something, but you watched as the paint had slipped through your finger-tips and flew to the ground. Carl had yelled your name and as you felt something that you presumed was the floor hit you, you braced yourself. Only no pain can.

You blinked, shaking lightly before you looked up. Making eye-contact with light green orbs, “Are you alright?” The smooth voice asked, making heat rise to your face. “I- Thank you,” You said, your hand by slight accident, you felt his heart…or what you guessed was his heart. It was, beating, like a human. And you watched as his eyes gazed over you, they squinted…his LED flashed yellow, then back to blue. You heard Carl come down and get into his wheel-chair rolling over to you.

Markus gently let you down, “Good God! Are you alright? I’m glad you came back in time Markus.” Carl said taking your hand lightly. You looked around seeing broken glass on the ground near you. You turned to look for Markus who began to clean it up. “Y-Yeah, I am too.” The dark male looked up and smiled, “I knew that I had to move fast for a reason. Whether it was to get you your drink, Carl. Or save a damsel in distress.” He said, winking. Carl laughed, “Wow. I’ve taught you well.” Carl said.

The older man sighed looking over at the spilled paint bottle. Blue and Grey paint crossed together to make an ugly mark on the floor. “Damn.” He muttered wheeling over to it, You bit on your thumb. “This was my fault, Carl. I’ll get you some new paints…on me.” You said holding the older man’s shoulder softly. He looked up to you and waved his hand, “That’s not necessary Y/N.” He said shaking his head beginning to roll back to his lift. You jumped in front of him. “No, Carl I insist.” You said crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed, “Oh sweet Y/N. You’ve always been so stubborn.” He rolled his eyes. You grinned, “Fine, Markus…take the girl to Bellini’s, you know what to get.” He said to get around you and hopping into his lift. “Now hurry please.” He said, you looked over at Markus, he smiled back. He felt his pump begin skipping slightly as he saw your smile. The way he looked at you was….special.

Tags:

@glitch-girl318 / @sodatune

Why can't someone be this devoted to me!?!?! 😩😭😤

DARK DEVOTION || Void Stiles 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Void Stiles x gender neutral reader

Summary — A love story written in blood and whispers. Void courts you in his own twisted way and you like it.

Memo —I am currently half awake and I refuse to go to sleep so boredom prompted me to write this.

Word Count —1050

Warnings — You're arguably as insane as Void. Dark Themes, Blood/Gore, Possessiveness/Obsessive Behaviour, Murder/Death (implied killings), Mild Body Horror (descriptions of blood and injuries), Stalking/Watching.

I. The First Gift

The first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

You step outside one morning, the world still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. The air is crisp, the sky painted with the soft hues of early sunrise. Then, your eyes fall to the ground.

A gift.

A crow, its throat slit cleanly, feathers still damp with fresh blood. Its wings are splayed open, and nestled between them is a single white flower—delicate, untouched by the violence surrounding it.

Something in your chest tightens. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something else.

You kneel, fingertips grazing the petals. The stark contrast between death and beauty is... intentional. A deliberate display.

A courtship.

And there’s only one creature twisted enough to offer it to you.

You should be terrified. You should scream, recoil, run. But instead, you pluck the flower from the corpse and twirl it between your fingers.

When you glance up, you aren’t surprised to see him watching from the treeline.

Void.

The thing wearing Stiles’ face.

He smirks when your eyes meet. A sharp, knowing thing. His head tilts, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You say nothing. Neither does he. But in that silence, something shifts.

And the game begins.

II. The Second Gift

The next offering comes two nights later.

You return home late, the weight of exhaustion pressing against your shoulders. But when you step inside, you freeze.

A velvet box rests on your kitchen counter. No note, no explanation.

You know better than to open it. You do.

And yet, your fingers move before your mind can stop them.

The lid lifts with an eerie sort of grace, revealing a heart inside—dark, wet, and still warm.

Your stomach doesn’t churn. Your hands don’t tremble. You stare for a long moment before exhaling a slow breath.

"This is getting dramatic," you murmur.

A chuckle ghosts over your shoulder. You don’t jump.

"Did you think I’d be subtle?" Void’s voice is a velvet whisper, coiling around you like smoke. "I am trying to woo you, after all."

You close the box and turn to face him. He leans lazily against the doorway, all sharp smirks and dark amusement.

"Woo me," you repeat, deadpan. "With body parts?"

Void pushes off the frame, stepping closer. "They weren’t yours," he points out. "Shouldn’t that count for something?"

You hold his gaze, unflinching. His eyes are endless, drowning pools of black.

Slowly, you place the flower he gave you the other day behind your ear.

His smirk falters. Just for a fraction of a second. But you see it.

Then, his grin returns, sharper than before.

"Oh," he breathes. "You do understand."

III. The Third Gift

After that, the gifts escalate.

You wake to whispers in the night, cold fingers brushing over your skin before vanishing like mist. A shadow lingers just beyond your vision, moving when you move, watching when you sleep.

A blade, elegant and wickedly sharp, appears on your pillow one morning. Its hilt is carved with symbols you don’t recognize, its edge stained faintly with something dark.

"I made it for you," Void hums when you confront him later that night.

"You made me a weapon?"

"You deserve something beautiful," he replies smoothly. "Something deadly."

His fingers brush your wrist, and the room tilts for half a second. Not physically. Not really. But there’s a pull—something unnatural, something his.

"Do you like it?" he asks, voice soft but dangerous.

You turn the blade in your grip, watching how the light catches on the metal.

And then you smile.

Void inhales sharply. His pupils blow wide.

"You’re enjoying this," he realizes.

You lift a brow. "And you’re not?"

His answering grin is feral.

IV. The Fourth Gift

You don’t find the next offering. It finds you.

One evening, as you step out of your usual coffee shop, someone stumbles in front of you. A man, pale and shaking, his shirt stained with blood.

"H–help me," he rasps.

Your eyes flicker down. A deep gash runs along his abdomen, fresh and brutal.

Your pulse remains steady.

A dark chuckle echoes nearby, and Void emerges from the alley, hands in his pockets.

"He hurt you once, didn’t he?" he muses, tilting his head at the man. "Called you a slur. Pushed you at a bar. Thought I forgot?"

The man trembles violently, eyes darting between you and the monster in Stiles’ skin.

You exhale through your nose, tilting your head. "This is a bit much, even for you."

Void pouts. "You wound me."

Your gaze shifts to the man, who is on the verge of collapse. You don’t feel sorry for him, not really.

But you do feel something.

Something close to intrigue.

You step forward, slow and deliberate, and crouch in front of the bleeding man. He flinches.

Then, ever so gently, you press your fingers to his wound.

He whimpers in pain.

Void lets out a breath that sounds like a growl.

"You’re insane," the man chokes out.

You smile at him. Then glance back at Void.

"You didn’t kill him yet," you muse. "Why?"

Void crouches beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath ghosts against your ear.

"Because I wanted to share."

You don’t move for a long moment.

Then, slowly, you stand.

Void follows your lead, dark eyes never leaving yours.

And without another word, you step aside.

An invitation.

Void’s smirk is wicked. His fingers graze your wrist as he passes, a silent thank you.

The man screams.

And you don’t look away.

V. The Claiming

Void presses you against the wall that night, his hands caging you in. His touch is cool, unnatural, but you don’t pull away.

"Say something," he murmurs, voice sharp with frustration. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you hate this."

You meet his gaze, unflinching. "I won’t."

His fingers tighten on your jaw, nails biting into your skin. "Why not?"

You smirk, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his.

"Because I like it."

Void stills. Then, his lips curl into something almost hungry.

"Oh," he breathes, amusement laced with something far darker. "I knew I picked the right one."

And when he kisses you, it’s possessive. A promise.

You’re his now.

You always were.

Quick question,

What's a good paint to go over tape? I got asked to paint a welding mask for someone at work and we laid duct tape over the face but I don't know what type of paint would work best, anyone have an idea?? I got no idea where to start......

OBI-WAN KENOBI + JEDI COUNCIL CHAIR (insp)

I'm just too curious

ha?

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

person

will get “doot doot” in their ask box

these pics i took came out really good!! :0 pride flag dragon enamel pins on my etsy!

I never even started counting 😂

How many fictional boyfriends do you have?

Bro wtf?! 😂

*hides behind the book I've been trying finish for six months and whines* stahp callin' me out

I once again feel attacked

reblog if your name isn't Ashley.

2,121,566 people are not Ashley and counting!

We’ll find you Ashley.