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claypgeon · 3 days

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too sweet | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary; everyone swears you're too sweet for max, but they don't seem to understand that he's just as sweet.

notes: me being happy there's less than a week until school ends, just to remember i start summer school 3 days later 😐

liked by, maxverstappen, jimmyandsassyinsta, redbullracing, and 736,928 others!

yourusername: who wore it best?

view comments below!

user1: SASSYS SO CUTE !!!

user2: no jimmy ??? :(

yoursername: jimmy saw me coming at him and ran faster then i ever thought was possible for cats💔

user3: y/n i love you..but sassy takes this one

user4: this is adorable

maxverstappen1: y/n we've talked about this...

yoursername: BUT SHE JUST LOOKS SO CUTE

user5: max being the buzzkill he always is

georgerussell63: sassy 100%

user6: george being more supportive then max is crazy

jimmyandsassyinsta: i personally think my mom looks better then everyone on planet earth 😻

user7: not y/n commenting on her own post from her cats account

user8: how do you know it's y/n and not max who runs the account ??

user7: max doesn't have the humor to make an entire daily-updated cat instagram...

charles_leclerc: hmmm, this is a hard one

redbullracing; i think i would demolish you both in a cat walk

redbullracing; get it? cat walk

user8: yeah we get it...

liked by 23,738 users!

ynupdates: y/n was heard in the back of max's stream today!

y/n: "Jimmy please!" *loud steps were heard*

max: *laughs* "what's going on back there?"

y/n: "i'm trying to get jimmy to do that, cat paw-print thing, remember?"

max: "mhm, please be careful."

y/n: "always am" *loud thud was heard*

max: *laughing* did you just fall?"

y/n: "…possibly."

view comments below!

user9: the relationship everyone wishes they had

user10: idk i feel like y/n deserves someone nicer then max..

user11: Y/N LOVES THOSE CAT SO MUCH 😭😭

user12: she's not the stepmother, she's the MORHER WHO STEPPED UP!!

user13: i feel like max just doesn't match her energy: (

user14: RIGHT ??? we saw a picture with y/n and lando ONCE and they both looked so happy, He matches her energy so well

user15: no literally, in every picture she's so 😁😁and on a good day he's🙂

user16: she deserves someone who will be 😁😁with her

user17: is it weird to say i would die for y/n ?

user18: no because i would too :(

user19: her jimmy and sassy >>>

liked by, maxverstappen, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 636,928 others!

yoursername; i met someone. life changed.

view comments below!

user20: y/n getting a capybara when ??

yourusername: max's apartment building doesn't allow 'out of the ordinary' animals 🙁

user20: but what if capybaras are ordinary to YOU ???

georgerussell63: where does one find a animal such as this?

yourusername: i won't tell🤫🤫

oscarpiastri: i've been chased by one of those before...

yourusername: of course you have, you're australian 🙄

maxverstappen1: 🐈's better

user21: wow max we love the energy (sarcasm)

user22: i've said this once and ill say it again... y/n deserves someone who will MATCH HER ENERGY!!!

user23: his girl is posted up with a CAPYBARA and all he has to say is THIS ???

user24: he was probably with her when she took these photos ??? what do yall want him to say ???

user25: y/n get a man who matches your energy in 2024!!

user27: yall saying y/n “deserves better” as if she isn’t living the dream as a stay a home cat mom who travels the world ??

user26: #yndeservesmoreenergy

user27: i feel like yall are making this too much of a big deal, max isn't a "declare the love you have for someone on the internet" type of person

user28: then maybe he should be ???

liked by, yoursername, danielricciardo, and 294,628 others!

jimmyandsassyinsta: my beautiful mommy at diner today - Jimmy💙💙

View comments below!

user29: aww 🥹🥹

user30: knowing y/n is posting this herself is so funny ???

user31: when a cat posts y/n more then her own boyfriend...

user32: JIMMY!! when are your parents separating???

user33: tell you father that he needs to treat y/n better

user34: jimmy getting a father that will treat y/n better when ???

user35: y'all in this comment section are WERIDDDD

user36: RIGHT ??? the whole "treat y/n better" is SO WERIDD

user37: y/n looks so cute☹️☹️

danielricciardo: and i wasn't invited? wow.

jimmyandsassyinsta: we don't want you here. - Sassy

user38: y/n is too sweet and kind for mad max

liked by jimmyandsassyinsta, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 583,514 others!

yourusername: @/jimmyandsassyinsta admin hard at work 🐈🐈

view comments below!

user39: NO WAY MAX WAS BEHIND THE ACCOUNT

user40: y/n heard yall were doubting max's love for her and said "he's been posting on a cat account with the sweetest captions for me for the past 3 years 🙄”

user41: miss y/n was sick of the "she deserves better" comments

*liked by yourusername*

jimmyandsassyinsta: jimmy and sassy do NOT approve of this message 😾

yoursername; it was time for the world to know!!

user42: you're telling me max has being @/ jimmyandsassyinsta for THREE YEARS ??

user43: okay wait this is so cute ??

user44: THATS WHY ALL THE CAPTIONS ON THE CAT ACCOUNT ARE ABOUT YOUUU

user45: yeah like "we think mommy looked beautiful at the paddock today."

user46: and "we couldnt have asked for a better mommy"

user47: and "so thankful for our mommy"

user48: and "we love mommy more then words could ever describe"

user49: i'm sobbing

user50: YALL BETTER NOT EVER. AND I MEAN EVER, DENY MAX'S LOVE FOR THIS WOMAN

user51: omg he's being writing love caption for her since they started dating 😭😭

leothelion: omg so cute 🐾❤️

maxverstappen1: so unoriginal leclerc, so unoriginal.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1

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ladyyatexel · 9 months

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Friends, Romans, Tumblrites, lend me your reblogs.

I'm Xel and I live in a society! I think there's a solid chance you do also! So you may relate to the profoundly crappy thing that happened to me and that I once again need a community assist.

I lost a temporary job that was supposed to turn into a permanent job in June because no one there felt safe enough to retire. Only two of us in the apartment were under 50. One of the crew was over 70. Three were chronically ill/disabled. No one felt safe enough to leave in order for me to stay, so I was trained for basically 6 months for nothing.

I have survived on savings from that job until this point, but I'm at the point where I cannot pay rent. I'm looking into getting help from sources more local to me but the internet has always felt like people who cared about me more than the people I share DNA with, really.

Many of the social services that I was signed up for expired the day that I was supposed to be told that I would be a permanent hire, and since that didn't go down, now I have to start it all again from the beginning, and there are gaps in my security net.

I tell you all of that just to say that I am actually trying to do things, I'm not here to just beg and coast along on some sort of lavish lifestyle where I, uh. Keep living in this dodgy apartment with my cat.

I don't want to bore you with an itemized list, but like 2,000 US dollars would get me through September and October without being worried about it like every 3 minutes. My rent is 700 and change, if you would like to know that. So I'm looking for like September and October rent and money to renew my driver's license, pay a few utility bills, buy a bag of cat food, and refill my medications.

If you have the notion to toss help at an internet pal or the extended reblogged acquaintance of an Internet pal, as is more likely the case, probably, that would be super rad of you.

I'm an artist! You could get things with images on them from me! I sell buttons, prints, and commissioned illustrations if that's your thing. My commissions are going a bit slow as of late - I only recovered from being not really able to walk like 2 months ago, and so I'm doing a lot of catch up like everywhere else in my whole life and trying not to spend too much time at a desk since it aggravates the spine thing that was the problem in the first place.

To be honest, it would be a greater help to me to just receive some Aid rather than full-on commissions, but I completely understand feeling fishy about people getting something for nothing and also feeling bad for being a charity case on the internet, so I'm not opposed! If you want to chat about that, I have a commissions post on the side or top of my blog depending on where you're looking at this!

Ko-fi contains my buttons and is a good place to toss digital dead American presidents if that suits you. I will get hit by some PayPal fees in this process but, I'm willing to call that a call for help on the internet tax.

I promise I'm a real person and not a bot who has made up a cat and is pretending to have interests. My blog has been here since 2010! I've met people on this website in person and everything. I've had embarrassing obsessions no bot would bother coming up with. Speaking of:

Similarly to times before, I would like to be able to do something in order to feel like I have earned some kind of support, and as of my birthday last week I have resolved to try very hard in the next year to conquer my fear and absolute mortification about many of the things I make, so I will once again go digging into my archives for things I can post for you to enjoy as thanks and tribute! I also have a poll running right now to see what kind of buttons people want!

Thanks for taking a look! Be nice out there, take care of your spines!

#help #assistance #donations #commissions #help out your local weirdo with the worst luck imaginable!

253 notes · View notes

so-long-soldier-writes · 3 months

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Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it.

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention.

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers.

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you.

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.”

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher.

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach.

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment.

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can.

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical.

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own.

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours.

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits.

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.”

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class.

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly.

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go.

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute.

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident.

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time.

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that.

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation.

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking.

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly.

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better.

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs.

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room.

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty.

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile.

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go.

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are.

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him.

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it.

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door.

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe.

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe.

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind.

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees.

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance.

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature.

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them.

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest.

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet.

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough.

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips.

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink.

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?”

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

#i feel like i'm cheating on kai #but i promise kai isn't going anywhere!!#nor are the mikaelsons - those for which i'm trying to write more #i have simply ✨ added ✨ another man to my collection #y'all i spelt his name wrong so many times writing this #have i ever mentioned i had a crush on a boy named isaac in my junior year of hs?#he was a twin #anyway #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction

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imightgetbetter · 1 year

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our first kiss

ahhhhhhh. hi. it's me. this is so weird. i haven't been nervous to post a story like this in years. probably because it's a totally different fan space and group and all that. there's a first time for everything. i have a whole idea for a series of things i want to write, we shall see if they come to fruition. for now, here you go. just a little something. (this is literally the smallest piece of writing i think i've posted in seven years). have fun <3 happy reading!

Outside, everything is quiet in the simplest of ways – the honking that usually busies the streets has subsided, just a few passing cars beneath them, the lights flickering and the occasional yell or holler from someone on the street echoing around the seemingly empty avenue. One light is shining from the bedroom where the landing leads to, and you can hear a faint grunt and murmured swears as your darling company finally makes his way back to the metal escape. His hand is clutching the neck of the guitar you purchased for his birthday, the back of which is decorated in an array of randomized drawings that somehow felt fitting for him – a carton of cigarettes, a mouse with a cookie, a rose that looked awfully similar to the one you have dried and pressed from your first date. Mouth nursing a cigarette, he teasingly pulls it from your lips as he settles against the railing, the guitar now settled on his thighs and his worn-in notebook propped open with a pen. He reaches for the lighter, cupping the fire around the end until it’s lit and ashy with his inhale.

His hand lays on your knee and squeezes it gently, lovingly. “Can’t have you picking up a bad habit from me, darling. Already have too many of those.”

“You were once a bad habit, you know,” you say, peering at him through hooded eyes masked behind wire-framed glasses, the light from your computer lighting your face. He smirks, shaking his head without saying a word, simply basking in knowing that a bad habit had turned into this, into sharing an apartment in a city you love, into late nights on the fire escape, creating your art together, art that is often about each other, even if you don’t know it. And he doesn’t know it, that the collection of essays being stored in your hard drive are about the lessons of being in love, lessons that you learned with him.

His eyes flicker from where he’s strumming at the heart of the guitar to you, a smile printed on his features that you know well – the smile that comes from your favorite bottle of wine at dinner, a stray glass or two in a shared bath. “Am I still a bad habit, my love?”

“Only when you distract me from my work,” you say, nudging your knee into his calf, a smile toying at the corners of your lips as he nudges you back.

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips to where your fingers are working diligently against your keyboard. “How far have you gotten today?”

“About halfway into this essay,” you hum, leaning your head to the side, trying to get a peek at the lyrics being scribbled into the notebook. “How’s the song coming?”

“Good, I think. Question for you actually,” he says quietly, aware of the sleeping neighbors and easily disturbed animals surrounding the apartment. He waits for you to nod, closing your laptop quietly to give him your sole attention. “Our first kiss, where was it again?”

“Matthew.”

“In my defense, love, we’d had many drunken kisses before I’d actually kissed you sober and well-intentioned.”

“Are you trying to tell me the other times were ill-intentioned?”

“Yes, I am, actually. I was eighteen, darling. There are no good intentions at eighteen.” His eyes soften when you giggle quietly, the hardened expression washing away from your features as you hum knowingly, and a tiny smile begins itching at your cheeks. “It was during that holiday we took during Christmas. I remember that.”

“Walmart, I think,” you say, the memory suddenly feeling a bit hazy and out of touch. “You’d come to visit me for the holiday break because I couldn’t fly home. I was sick, I wanted a puzzle or something to do while I was stuck alone. You’d grabbed the one I wanted, and I kissed your cheek.”

“I turned my head, and I kissed you,” he says surely, interrupting your recollection of the memory. His smile as he told the story warms you from your head to your toes. He doesn’t need to say that he loves you for you to feel so. “I knew I was going to get the nastiest flu of my life, but I didn’t even care.”

“I yelled at you for kissing me. I didn’t want to get you sick, even though that was a bit of a lost cause considering we were sharing a bed while you stayed with me.”

“And that’s why I kissed you, again,” he says proudly, reaching for your hand and tugging you towards him. You know exactly what he wants you to do, and you do so easily. Closing your laptop, you maneuver yourself over the small space, settling between his open thighs. His arms circle around you, the guitar settled on your thighs, your head laying against his chest. He presses his mouth to your head, “I wish it hadn’t taken so long. I feel like I got years stolen away.”

“Hm?”

“Us, you know?” his murmurs, gently strumming the guitar and leaning his head on your head, humming a melody that surely just came to mind. “I wish I would’ve just moved with you.”

“I don’t,” you say quietly, leaning forward and turning to face him, your hands reaching to cup his cheeks and bring his eyes to meet yours. “I don’t because I love seeing you live your dream, and that wouldn’t have happened if you moved with me. All this happened like it was supposed to, you know that.” Matty’s eyes are pouring into yours, the deepest amounts of love washing over you. “Not to mention, if we weren’t apart, we wouldn’t have like, the best love songs to ever exist.”

Matty laughs, rolling his eyes as you lean your head forward, your nose brushing against his. “I want you with me all the time, you know that?”

“I know.”

“I want so many things with you.”

“And you can have them,” you say, brushing your lips against his ever so slightly. “I’ll be waiting, ready to go.”

#matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #love it if we made it series

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dovesndecay · 2 years

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I don't want to make this post. I don't, I don't, I don't. I never do.

I'm eternally exhausted with making begging posts every week, with my own situation and lack of options, of what feels like inviting a cocktail of pity and disdain from every which way, and having to be gratingly transparent about my finances and my personal health to complete strangers to essentially make a bid for "why I deserve to be helped" is...a lot to deal with when you're already disabled and chronically mentally ill.

But I have little room left for pride, and, well, *gestures at capitalism*.

If you follow me, you probably know my situation. But for those who don't, here's the cliff notes.

I'm disabled and unable to work and support myself beyond what I do for my patreon (which is never as on-schedule as I keep trying to make it) and when my roommate and I feel up to it, we do doordash a couple times a week to supplement. Those funds generally go towards meds and food when things get tight.

For the month of October, thanks to incredibly generous folks, I was able to just make the car insurance payment and parts of the smaller bills that had begun piling on top of each other.

But out of my regular $1200 worth of bills, I still have $935 left that I need to pay to just make it to being able to start trying to pay November's bills.

$400 of that $935 is just to make the car payment. Which is kinda important.

(For folks that saw we had to send the car in to the mechanic a week or two ago; Johnny's all fixed up, running good, and I can't thank y'all enough for the help!! I've been out of town, and I was so worried about him!!)

My car is how @natalieironside makes it to her dirt wizard job each night, which is what pays for the roof over our collectively queer disabled heads, so keeping Johnny in our possession, instead of the bank's, is, admittedly, pretty high priority. And it's already getting near a month overdue.

[img desc: Screenshot of my bank balance, which reads, "$86.00" on top and "available balance" below.]

My current bank balance is $86.00, and every single bit of help -- whether by donating or boosting -- genuinely means everything to me.

Ways You Can Help:

You can donate directly via any of the options below. And if you're able to, willing to, do this, it does not matter to me if it's $1 or $100, my gratitude to you is endless. Please never apologize to me for how little you might be able to do to help me. Every bit means the world to me.

PayPal: link

Venmo: borinquenaqueer

Cashapp: $borinquenaqueer

You can check out my patreon! I’m writing a queer vampire serial, sharing short stories, and behind-the-scenes content. There's a fair bit of stuff on there that might catch your eye. I'm working on adding upcoming cosplay stuff as well! (Current top project is Guillermo De La Cruz from What We Do In The Shadows!)

You can purchase a print through my shop! Accomplices from my patreon get a 15% discount code!

Disclaimer: For transparency's sake, I'll tell you now that print purchases do not pay out until something like 2 months after the initial purchase. (But I like it when people like my photography, so y'know.)

Send me something from my wishlists! All of the funds I'm sent, whether it's donations or pledges, go towards bills + food. So, I keep necessities and wants that I simply can’t afford to get on my Amazon wishlists.

[General | Cosplay | Pets | Clothes]

Lastly, You Can Reblog This Post.

And if that's all you can do, I want you to know that doing this means just as much to me as if you were able to do every single one of these other things all at once. Without your boost, my post dies within a few hours and I get nowhere.

Thank you. 💛

#mutual aid #okay now nobody look at me for a few hours #i need time to come down from the stress of making this post to begin with

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aristocratic-otter · 1 year

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Shhhh...I'm sure it's still Sunday...somewhere.

Thank you and kudos in spirit to @ionlydrinkhotwater, @facewithoutheart, @otherworldsivelivedin, @cutestkilla, @foolofabookwyrm-activated, @artsyunderstudy, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @katmiscellanious, @hushed-chorus, @yeonjunenby, @confused-bi-queer, and @larkral. I'm spoiled for choice with all the incredible writing y'all are doing.

As always, I've got more time to write than to post on Tumblr, so I have plenty to share. Under the cut for length:

From: Gates of Ivory and Horn, my Snowflake Exchange fic (and the title will in no way alert my exchange partner, so I'm free to share it):

I must black out, because the next thing I know, I’m back in the white void, the waiting place. That’s what I’m starting to call it in my head. It seems fitting. I’m looking at the two innocent seeming gates again and all I can feel is revulsion. What I saw, what I felt, what I did in there...none of that was okay. Even if only half of it was true, I can’t accept it.

From Saving Simon Snow, a canon divergence fic:

When I see a very modern looking steel door, I come to a sudden stop and gape at it. This has to be related to the mystery I’m chasing. There’s no way this isn’t a new feature! And, sure enough, the last glowing paw print lights up in front of the door, glows brightly once, and then fades out before I can even step into it. I’ve reached my destination.

Simon Snow is here.

From my House AU, gift fic for @yellobb-old:

Fifteen was also the year when Simon’s ‘errands’ for Mage became more dangerous. The Mage knew some dicey customers and Simon frequently ran into trouble with the sorts of people Mage associated with. As I started seeing Snow get closer and closer to death with each close encounter, I grew frightened for him. This translated to me trying to convince him of the Mage’s ill intent, but I’d done my work too well. Simon wouldn’t believe a word I said.

Especially since I didn’t know how to talk to him with anything other than sarcasm and insults.

From The White Chapel, my Cotta 2023:

Fiona appears like magic on the balcony above. She despises whistling, which is why I was doing it. “Basil! Can that fucking noise before I can your arse!” she bellows.

I throw the knapsack over my shoulder and then look up and give her my cheesiest grin. “You know what, Fiona? You’re right. I’ve got no business being here. So I’m fired!”

Dev is staring at me like I’ve gone mad, which, fair. “Did…you just fire yourself?”

From: Playing with Fire, Treading Thin Ice:

Lady Ruth and Jamie are watching him with smiles on their faces, but I know they’re not seeing him the same way I am, given my thoughts of last night. He looks like the Chosen One. He looks glorious.

He’s my Chosen One, my subconscious supplies. It doesn’t matter what else he is. I choose him.

From Raising Dragons:

He nods against me, and then buries his face into my chest when the next contraction comes. The fates are merciful, this time, however, because the third egg crowns after only two more contractions. When I see it glisten between his thighs, I rub his belly harder, even pressing down a bit, as if I could give him some help by pushing from above. “You’ve got this, darling,” I murmur to his bronze curls. “You’re almost there. You’re doing wonderful, my love. I’m so in awe of you.”

I'm waving hello from the state where early December means temperatures in the seventies. I hope to hear from you all soon! @angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @fight-surrender, @fatalfangirl, @giishu, @ileadacharmedlife, @johnwgrey, @jbrrring, @krisrix, @letraspal, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @nightimedreamersghost, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @unfiltered-alice-liddle, @whogaveyoupermission, @whatevertheweather, and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#mpreg #dragon babies #xanadu au #cotta 2023?#House AU #Carry on reverse bang #Snowflake exchange #Canon divergence AU #six sentence sunday #co/ws/awtwb

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cakiesartblog · 1 year

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New Account!

Hi! This is my new art account! I previously could be found at @lonelycuppycake, but it's time for a fresh start. I hope you will join me here! I'm excited to share what I've been working on. :)

Some info about me before I begin reposting some of my art! ↓

I am a 20 year old queer college student, working mostly with digital art and printmaking (although I expect printmaking will slow down once I graduate). Most of my prints are screenprint and linocut relief prints.

A large portion of my work is focused on things I enjoy watching, reading, and playing, but I also have been making artwork about my experiences and struggles with mental illness. Certain things may be triggering, but I will do my absolute best to tag things appropriately. Please feel free to reach out if I tag something incorrectly.

Commissions are not currently open, but I am expecting to open them for the first time ever in late May! If you're interested, keep your eyes peeled for my announcement post!

I have mostly been posting on Instagram, where you can find me at cakiesart. I have no art Twitter yet, but I think I will be making one soon. In the meantime, my personal twitter is inureparadox if you wish to keep up with me!

Feel free to shoot me a message or an ask if you have any questions. Thank you!

#notart #new blog #new account #artists on tumblr #digital art #small artist

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westopoliscity · 2 years

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Hi. Woof. I got tagged in a thing by @gillbuoy! Which I shall now be doing (wowzers! Thank you for tagging me btw ^_^. Woof.)

hot shower or cold shower: Hot. Any day of the week if the water is not slowly cooking me into a fine aspen stew what the fuck is the point honestly

texting or calling: Texting. Always. I get soooo nervous in discord vcs because of my parents walking slash not liking my voice slash previously being teased by my parents for things ive said so. Text. Far better. Plus I can do :3 ^_^ :] and woof arf bark!!!

ear buds or headphones: headphones hurty :[

paperback or hard cover: Redwall paperback books ruined the paperback book experience for me... some prints of the books are so. Squished and hard to hold apart for reading and hard cover books in general feel. Nice and substantial and theyre great I love them so much

matte or gel: Stares blankly. I have no clue what this means or what context this applies to!

twelve hour or twenty four hour clock: i have to think with 24 hour clocks and im bad enough at 12 hour clock math

Sci-fi or horror: C neither

blue or green: hmm. Whatever could my answer here be. I wonder... no way its blue. Not in a million trillion years ^_^

sunsets or sunrises: Sunsets! Im a night person 100% and theres something so... beautifully magical about a nice sunset. A calming feeling. Like im sitting on the roof of my house staring out across a backyard forest, drinking away at cans of soda and joking away with friends. Fireflies are lighting up the air and the night creatures are plentiful. That kinda mental image.

tulips or orchids: orchids are. Special to me in a way, I suppose. Where I live, Irises are very plentiful and ive found them. Absolutely beautiful ever since I was a child first exploring the area around my old shed in my old backyard discovering the mysterious, tall flowers blooming behind it. My father mistakenly called them orchids, and I know now, obviously, that they're irises- but despite that thinking about orchids brings back such a strong mental image of those magical purple flowers with the white and black striping, and that neighborhood I grew so attatched too and loved for years. I miss that area a whole lot.

candle light or moon light: moonlight. Always. Its so. Pretty and. Truly magical and while candle light is great, well. Nothing beats the moon herself, to me at least

pen or pencil: I have... terribly sloppy handwriting. I frequently make mistakes in how I write things. Pens are my natural enemies and as much as I love using them ill stick to mechanical pencils always

pandas or koalas: pandas: one of my first comfort stuffed animals ever after. A big life change made me lose all of the ones I once loved so much. I found him at a garage sale and I kind of fell in love with him immediately. Instead of black, his markings are a soft blue color and hes the perfect size for hugging and he was the perfect comfort after so long spent with my bed feeling so. Painfully empty. He helped me through some really, really rough times too. Hes worn already, despite having him for only 2 or 3 years or so now, but given the fact that some of that wear is tear stains bravely taken, I think he deserves to show some wear methinks.

gold or silver: I like grey man. What else am I to say

sneakers or boots: sneakers are the devils creation and I will wear winter goddamned boots year round if im allowed theyre comfy. And they look nice.

denim or leather jacket: I have no personal experience but uh. From an aesthetic point of view. Leather just looks really fucking cool. Thats all I can say really

pink or purple: I won't go deep into this because ive done enough personal rambling for a tumblr tag game post but. Purple irises, as I've mentioned, and memories of some people I once held so very close. That's all I'll say

chocolate or sour candy: i will devour an entire bag of sour candy given the opportunity just you watch me

drive in movie theater or the cinema: C neither again. Im not particularly a. Movie watcher really and. Bad associations with the cinema and drive in movie theater. Also uncomfortable associations for different reasons

deoderant or perfume: perfume makes me feel dsyphoric (a lot of things painted as traditionally. Girly. Do really, its a hard thing to shake for me. I still find it hard to accept. The color pink, fully)

pastel blue or earth tones: sorry blue! You actually suck here. Earth tones are very calm and comforting, they bring to mind an autumn forest or a cozy library space. I prefer daker and greyish blue shades, generally

lemonade or fruit juice: let me get my grubby little paws near lemonade your never seeing that batch ever again

past or future: In. A generalized broad way, the past, I suppose? But really. Neither. Its hard to keep myself rooted to a broad version of the past, and the future... no.

And now comes the time to pass this off to a couple other people so, I summon forth: @nintendont2502! @thebaby-is-you! And! @murrittimeswithscar! Participation optional and anyone unmentioned is free to hop in but I had to tag someone So! Yep!

#lot of personal rambling for a tag game post huh

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vanvani-sa · 1 year

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Commission info (OPEN)

Note: I really value my repeat clients and to show my appreciation for you support different prices may apply! Feel free to inquire for eventual discounts or special offers.

The following post has all the information you need to commission me. Make sure you read everything before sending a message.

Prices (in euro's) and examples:

(more examples on my account and other socials!)

Line-art commissions:

Head: 15,-

Half body: 20,-

Full body: 25,-

Base-color commissions:

Head: 25,-

Half body: 30,-

Full body: 35,-

Full render (prices vary based on detail):

Head: 45,-

Half body: 75,-

Full body: 100,-

Adding an extra character will add 70% of the original price. A half body line-art commission of two characters would be 34,- instead of 20,-.

Background prices may vary.

I will draw:

People from photo reference (stylised)

Original characters

DnD characters

Fandom characters

Furries or anthro's

Ponies

Backgrounds and complicated scenes

Nsfw (depending on the subject. Extra charges may apply)

Gore (depending on the subject)

I will not draw:

Anything I don't feel comfortable with

During the commission:

If I get started on a commission, I'll send progress screenshots at the following stages:

Base lay-out, composition and pose on half bodies and full bodies

Rough sketch

Colored base for the full render commission type

Terms and conditions:

The commissioned piece is for private use only and you may not resell your commissioned piece or use it for commercial purposes, unless discussed and agreed upon beforehand.

You may not remove my signature from the commissioned piece.

I own the finished artwork and reserve the right to post and use the commissioned piece on social media for marketing purpses or to expand my portfolio.

You may use line-art commissions to practice your coloring work, as long as I'm given proper credit.

I will only start working on the commission once I've received full payment and any necessary references and information.

If I am unable to complete the commission due to illness or other circumstances out of my control, I will send you what I have already finished and give a full refund.

If you are not satisfied with the commissioned piece I will not give a refund.

I reserve the right to charge extra for any additional changes I may have to make to make up for extra time.

If you cancel the commission yourself you will not receive a full refund. I usually start working on a commission right away and cannot be compensated for that time if the commission is canceled.

I will try to finish smaller commission within a month and larger ones withi two months. However, keep in mind that I'm also working towards getting my law degree and cannot do art full time.

Payment:

After I have agreed to do the commission I will send you my paypal.me link. Once I've received payment I'll get started on your commission!

How to commisssion me:

If you want to commission me you can contact me via e-mail: [email protected].

If you aren't sure what to include in your e-mail you could add the following points:

What type of commission you'd like to order.

Character references, personality desxcriptions, props they could be interacting with, specific poses or facial expressions you have in mind, other examples, etc.

The required filesize (I'll always use a file size large enough to make it suitable for printing. This is mre for, when you want your commission to be square, horizontal or vertical)

If you have something very specific in mind you can also include a simple drawing o stick figures to convey exactly what you want.

Once you've read everything and agree to these terms feel free to send me an e-mail. I look forward to working with you!

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zhwj · 7 months

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The Stealth Cinematic Adaptation of Peach Blossom Girl 桃花女

(This post was originally appeared as a Twitter thread on 14 October 2020 and is reproduced here with minor edits.)

I’d like to talk briefly about my favorite of the live-action Disney adaptations of Chinese folk tales: the story of the Peach Blossom Girl’s defeat of the Duke of Zhou in a battle of magic, adapted, of course, into the Star Wars sequel trilogy. (No, not really. But I was struck by the similarities while watching The Rise of Skywalker, and I’d like to imagine that some of the films’ more perplexing narrative choices are in fact a consequence of adapting a centuries-old folktale into a sprawling space opera.)

A summary for those unfamiliar with the tale: Zhougong 周公, the Duke of Zhou, is associated with the Book of Changes, oneiromancy, and other mantic techniques. In this story, he runs a divination shop, and for 30 years has never been wrong (he’s got a money-back guarantee). Then his predictions begin to fail. He foresees a widow’s merchant son, Shi Zongfu 石宗辅, dying in a pit, but the man returns home safely; he predicts that his servant Pengjian 彭剪 will die in three days, but instead his life is extended. Infuriated, Zhougong quits the business.

His nemesis turns out to be Taohua nü 桃花女, the Peach Blossom Girl, a local teenager who not only excels him in divination but is also a sorcerer who can manipulate fate. He vows revenge. Forcing her to marry his son on an ill-omened day, he calls on deities to kill her.

She beats him at every turn: counters his curses, tricks a tiger spirit into killing his daughter (whom she later resurrects), and even arranges her own resurrection after he attacks the peach tree holding her life essence. Each humiliating defeat only enrages him further. The feud culminates in Zhougong’s death, but at his household’s request, Taohua revives him.

I've taken most of the details in this summary from a short novel of uncertain authorship, 桃花女阴阳斗传 (Taohua’s Battle of Yin and Yang, among other titles), published in 1848, which casts the story into the shenmo 神魔 “gods and demons” mode. But the story exists in many forms.

The earliest in print is a Yuan dynasty zaju play attributed to Wang Ye 王晔, found in Ming collections under the title “Taohua, adept in the yin-yang trigrams” 讲阴阳八卦桃花女 (脉望馆 version) or “Taohua defeats magic, marries Zhougong” 桃花女破法嫁周公 (元曲选 version).

“Miss Irisation breaks the plum formation” 云来姐巧破梅花阵 from the late Ming collection 贪欣误 tells the same tale using different character names.

In the story “Taohua fights using magic” 桃花女斗法, in the 1846 zhiguai collection 闻见异辞, the two fight with bees, tigers, and spiders.

There’s also a wide range of local operas and folk ballads, as well as a proliferation of 20th century adaptations into different media.

Turning to the Star Wars sequels, we can recognize the major characters at once, although existing canon did force some minor tweaks.

◎ Kylo Ren is Zhougong. Born into a noble family and trained in divination from a young age, Zhougong sets out on his own when the royal court rejects his counsel. He’s arrogant and vindictive, and he cares more for proving his dominance than for the lives of people close to him.

◎ Rey is Taohua. Born to commoners, she lives in seclusion until her late teens, when compassion for her neighbors moves her to use her talents, attracting Zhougong’s attention. She wields a peach branch that expands into a halberd, preserved in the film as Rey’s staff.

◎ Finn is Shi Zongfu, a merchant traveling far from home who is saved from certain death by Taohua’s intervention. The first half of the novel is largely his story, but after he demands compensation from Zhougong for the inaccurate prediction of his death, he drops out of the narrative altogether.

In a 1957 lianhuanhua retelling that recasts the tale as one of class struggle, Shi (here known as Shi Ji) is fleeing a forced labor corps when Taohua rescues him. They fight against Zhougong’s cruel, exploitative regime as a romantic pair. (Read it online.)

◎ Pengjian, Zhougong’s servant, doesn’t have an exact counterpart. Using the spells Taohua taught him, not only does he escape immediate death, he also extracts an additional 850 years of life from stellar deities, becoming Peng Zu 彭祖, an enduring symbol of longevity.

Star Wars’ resident multicentenarian, Yoda, is unfortunately of the wrong alignment and, by the sequel trilogy, already dead. After Taohua saves him, Pengjian acts on her behalf and betrays Zhougong’s schemes—Hux, basically. Like Yoda and Hux, Pengjian is a comic character.

◎ To trap Taohua, Zhougong invokes the Black Killer 黑煞, a powerful protector god. Taohua counters by invoking the Red Killer 红煞. The two gods neutralize each other but agree not to actively interfere in the fight between Zhougong and Taohua.

Instead of pitting the two champions head-to-head, The Last Jedi time-shifts the confrontation: as the Black Killer, Snoke’s big moment is getting killed off, while Luke, the Red Killer, responds to a cry for help by deflecting an attack with his enlightened nonviolence.

◎ As it turns out, Taohua isn’t a nobody—she’s really an immortal sent to stop Zhougong from revealing too many secrets. The two are a divine pair—a yin-yang dyad, if you will, avatars of a knife and sheath lost when the god Zhenwu disemboweled himself in a purification ritual.

The Daoist god Zhenwu 真武, the “perfect warrior,” is also known as Xuanwu 玄武 “dark warrior” and has the title 玄天上帝 “high emperor of the dark heavens.” He’s identified with the god of the north, Heidi 黑帝, the “black emperor.” Here’s an appearance over Mt. Wudang in 1413:

Zhenwu isn’t in all versions of the tale, but if the trilogy must have a final boss, he’s the only logical choice—even if the moral dualism of the Star Wars universe requires him to be evil. The films’ lineage of evil black-robed mages practically demands the Emperor’s return. Palpatine’s death in the original trilogy isn’t a problem, either. Zhenwu has many incarnations—at one point in the late Ming novel Journey to the North 北游记, he’s killed by the avatar of the spirit of Guan Yu’s glaive, and his companions have him resurrected to continue his mission.

When it comes to ending the story, It can’t be denied that the adaptation does stumble a bit.

① Shock reveals.

Like other literary adaptations of the period based on well-known folk myths, the novel opens with background on Taohua and Zhougong and their relationship to Zhenwu. Play audiences would have been familiar with their roles as well, so Zhenwu’s abrupt appearance on the last page of the 脉望馆 edition to reclaim his charges wouldn’t have come out of nowhere. (The 元曲选 edit omits the god altogether and never clearly explains the source of Taohua’s power.) By moving the core story to an unfamiliar setting in a galaxy far, far away, the adaptation can’t rely on shared cultural knowledge, meaning a long-dead villain’s unheralded return or a reversal where a character who’s been a nobody for most of the story turns out to be the chosen one feel contrived and unearned.

② The overstuffed ending.

After Zhougong’s total humiliation, there are lots of options for the folktale’s conclusion. In some, Taohua accepts marriage into a humbled Zhougong’s house; in others, he keeps battling her until the gods intervene. Here’s a comparison of the two versions of the scene following Zhougong’s resurrection

From the Yuan play:

　　　　(Zhougong and his children rise.) 　　　　TAOHUA Zhougong, why aren’t you counting trigrams? 　　　　ZHOUGONG Don’t you mock me, too. I’ve got to tell you, Taohua, today I was convinced my magic was great, but I never imagined yours would be greater still, a hundred times greater than mine. I never had a chance of beating you. Come, be my daughter-in-law and you won’t suffer by it. Let’s have the wedding banquet today, and may there be harmony between our families. 　　　　TAOHUA Under the circumstances, harmony it is. 　　　　　　　　　　　　(From Act 4 of 脉望馆 edition)

From the Qing novel:

Zhougong’s soul returned to his corpse, and he flipped over and sat up on the ground. His eyes blazed hate at Taohua as he sprang up and seized his star-sword, shouting, “Halt, demon woman! You presume to recall my soul? I swear on my life to put you to death!” He advanced on her with his sword. Taohua pulled the compliant peach branch from her silk bag and blocked him. “This is the thanks I get for saving your life, Zhou Qian? You think you can bully me?” Again he swung his sword, but she dodged and parried with her branch, yin and yang clashing in the great hall. [. . .] Zhougong and Taohua fought from the doorway to the courtyard, but the space was too cramped to use their full powers, so they mounted clouds and battled each other into the air. [. . .] Everyone else watched them from the ground. Wreathed in rosy clouds, they waged a savage battle in the sky, receding into the distance until they finally disappeared. [. . .] The fight reached a fever pitch as they tapped every skill they possessed. The roar and thunder of their struggle alerted the Grand Coordinator-Censor who, noticing the ferocity of their fight and their proximity to the North Gate of Heaven, hurried to inform the high emperor of the dark heavens, Zhenwu. The emperor peered through his wisdom eye and understood all that had happened. He dispatched general Tortoise and general Snake to bring the two to him. 　　　　　　　　　　　　(From Chapter 16)

Having Taohua and Zhougong reconcile after she’s put him in his place (and reversed all his harm) makes sense in a wedding comedy meant to create an origin story for rites and taboos and to subvert the trope of the passive, reluctant bride. The novel is more fascinated with the magical duel. It replaces Zhougong’s contrition with a heavenly intervention, recalling the two from the mortal realm and binding them to their celestial duties with a golden elixir that will dissolve their bodies if they stray again.

The film adaptation combines the two endings, working a quick redemption for Kylo (and reconciliation with Rey) into the same epic battle that leads to what’s more or less an exit from the mortal realm—him into death, her to the isolated home of her mentor and protector. The two versions of the story aren’t really compatible, and by attempting both, the film doesn’t make either convincing.

As an aside, one odd thing about the folktale is that while the Taohua and Zhougong are clearly the central dramatic pairing, age and propriety mean the marriage proposal is made on behalf of his son, who barely appears. In the Yuan play, he has no lines and comes on stage only to die. In the novel he doesn’t even exist: Zhougong only pretends to have a son. Most adaptations pair the two directly, such as this Taiwanese opera starring Xiao-mi 小咪 as a more sympathetic Zhougong and Huang Yang-hua 黄旸骅 as Taohua.

Which brings us to the next problem:

③ No songs!

To the novel’s assortment of incidental poems and plot-specific spells invoking various deities, the author adds an actual song to pass the time while Shi Zongfu’s mother is waiting to recite Taohua’s spell to call her son out of the deadly pit. And the dramas are chock full of tunes. Imagine if, in response to Kylo’s “Join me,” Rey were to launch into a version of the kiss-off song that’s Taohua’s answer to Zhougong’s marriage proposal (the text here is the more dramatic edit by Zang Maoxun 臧懋循 in 元曲选):

【笑和尚】我、我、我，不恋你居兰堂住画阁，我、我、我，不恋您列鼎食重裀卧，我、我、我，不恋您那雪花银三十个。（媒婆云）那周公算的好《周易》课，只有他家大官人晓得，再不传别人的。姐姐，你过门之后，他还要传这《周易》课与你哩。（正旦唱）他、他、他，论阴阳少讲习，我、我、我，论卦爻多参破，休、休、休，我根前，（做推媒婆跌科，唱）还卖弄甚么《周易》的课。　　　　TAOHUA 　　　　(singing) I, I, I don’t care about your halls and galleries. I, I, I don’t care about your life of luxury. I, I, I don’t care for the silver you say that you’ll give to me. 　　　　MATCHMAKER Zhougong’s Changes, mantic methods he alone has access to—Take his offer, join his house; he’ll gladly share that art with you. 　　　　TAOHUA He, he, he knows nothing of the craft of prophecy. I, I, I have mastered all the trigrams’ mysteries. Stop, stop, stop— 　　　　(pushes Matchmaker to the ground) Flogging those oversold, useless old Changes to me!

Or maybe not, considering that Star Wars as a franchise doesn’t have the greatest track record for songs sung by humans. Still, that’s just one of the countless ways to make a cross-genre adaptation of a folktale do justice to the original while also taking advantage of the huge canvas of a new fictional universe. The Taohua-Zhougong story is a small domestic drama, after all, without the sweeping scale of other shenmo quest or war novels. Grafting it onto a standard Star Wars climax retread shrinks the new universe rather than expanding the source material to fill the new space.

There’s bound to be a satisfying way to make all the elements work, although it would likely take some clever plotting to make the square peg of a wedding comedy for dueling Daoist immortals fit the round hole of a space station exhaust port. ■

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This post is one reader’s take on the tale of Taohua and Zhougong. I’m not a specialist in Yuan theater, Daoism, or late imperial vernacular literature, so all corrections are welcome. You’re also free to challenge my misreading of Star Wars, but please know that I’m not especially interested.