#So many versions of him are out there but I can’t find my style for him smhhhhh

[clownsuu]

I am timberin in my shivers dawg, i fuggin can’t wAIT FOR THE UPDATE/SITE SOON M A N S A W E. A W E AE

Some more artblocked doodles, I don’t remember the last time I drew a normal drawing of Wally-

#HYPE HYPE HYPE #welcome home #welcome home wally #welcome home howdy #wally darling #howdy pillar #i still don’t like how I draw Wally KHDDHDHD #So many versions of him are out there but I can’t find my style for him smhhhhh #I enjoy my howdy tho he gives me free serotonin whenever I draw him-

[its-time-to-write]

ugggghhh I love your writing! your style and just voice are outstanding!

could you write something with Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) who are dating (but no one knows) and they are doing a PR thing for England or some ad campaign? And they have to do silly things and show how much they know about each other (like they have known each other since they were in school and have been friends for a while) but then Keeley catches on or something. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, but essentially it is Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) relationship, thank you! <3

✌️😗

you’re a mansion with a view

There’s an insistent knocking on the door. It’s who-the-fuck-knows o’clock Jamie has been inside all day, lights off and dealing with a wicked hangover. The pounding on the door syncs up with the pounding in his head, and he Jamie shuffles to open it so the person on the other side can shut up.

He opens it to find you, mid-knock.

“Put a shirt on, Tartt,” you say as you push past him, grocery bag in hand. Jamie looks down. He’s just in his trousers, and for once he’s grateful that it isn’t the other way around.

“Fucking hell, Killer,” he groans. “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that he used your football nickname as opposed to your actual name. “Nope. It’s five. Training’s done for the day.”

Jamie follows you to his kitchen. Why you’re walking around like you own the place, he has no idea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks. “And how do you know where all my stuff is?”

You tap your head. “Our houses have the same layout. I can see yours from across the street, and noticed you haven’t been out in like, a week. That’s a record for you.”

Jamie rubs his face. “Fucking hell,” he says again. “So why are you here?”

You turn around from the fridge. “Figured you haven’t had a decent meal besides vanilla vodka.” You make a face. “Disgusting. Just because you’re not playing football doesn’t mean you can neglect nutrition, Tartt.”

“I ain’t neglecting my nutrition,” he replies. “Just…” he trails off.

You smirk. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought. The great Jamie Tartt, drowning his sorrows in vanilla vodka and becoming a couch potato. You haven’t even had any women ‘round to numb the sting. That’s new.”

You flip on a light to which Jamie groans. You flip it off. “So are you going to put on a shirt, or..?”

“Killer,” Jamie says for the third time, “the fuck are you doing in my house?”

You pretend to be digging in the grocery bag so you don’t have to look at his face.

“Saw your interview,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “Thought you might need someone to make sure you haven’t, I don’t know, died.”

Jamie knocks his head against the wall. “Has everyone fucking seen that?” 

You shrug. “Personally, I liked it a lot better than your season of Lust Conquers All. Lot more feeling in that one interview than the whole show, if you ask me.”

“So you saw that,” Jamie comments. This is far too many words for the headache he has.

“Yup.” 

“And you’re still here.”

“Uh huh.”

Jamie is at a loss for words. Everyone else has left him because of that fucking tv show, where he acted like the worst version of himself and didn’t even fucking win.

Doesn’t make sense that you, a midfielder from some women’s FC, would be in his house pulling out real food and making sure he’s alright.

For a moment, Jamie feels bad that he can’t remember what team you play for.

He thinks that this goes beyond neighborly duties. Sure, you live across the street from him and you’ve seen each other at various events, but this is probably the first real conversation you’ve ever had. He has no idea what to make of it.

He asks, “Why do you care?” then immediately cringes at the harsh tone of his voice.

You slam the fridge door harder than you anticipate, making you both jump.

“Because,” you say, then you sigh. 

“Footballer life off the pitch sucks sometimes. I wish someone had checked on me.”

“I ain’t a footballer,” Jamie points out, vaguely remembering something about your name in some less-than-friendly headline.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, Tartt.”

—

Five months later, you’re at some random football pitch in your full kit and far more makeup than you’d wear to a match. 

Some magazine is doing some profile on different footballers, taking photos with different men and women from all kinds of teams together. You’re not sure why you, a midfielder, are here with Tartt, a striker.

You’re not complaining.

“Oi, Tartt,” you call, “how does it feel to be scored on by a girl?”

(The photographer wanted some action shots of you and Jamie playing 1 v 1.)

Jamie scoffs. “My masculinity ain’t fragile, Killer. Just lucky you didn’t break any of my bones.” He says the words carefully, as if they’re unfamiliar to his tongue and he wants to get them just right.

“You know I have a name, right?” you ask, breathing hard. You’ve dribbled the ball back to Jamie and are standing practically forehead to forehead. “Like, a real actual name that you’re allowed to use?”

Jamie grins and drops his voice to a near-whisper, “Oh I know how to use your name, love.”

You shiver, trapped in his gaze for a minute. 

The spell is broken as the photographer shouts, “Alright loves, let’s stage some of you two together.”

You both turn to jog to the sidelines, where she begins posing you. 

“Wow,” she remarks, “you two have great chemistry. Usually I have to tell you footballers to act like you like each other.”

Jamie grins and knocks his shoulder into yours. “Hear that, Killer?” he asks, “She thinks we have good chemistry.”

You roll your eyes and feign annoyance. “Be professional, Tartt.”

The photographer asks, “How long have you known each other?”

You and Jamie say, “Two years,” in perfect unison.

“My goodness,” she laughs, “you two are just in sync today! How’d you meet?” You say, “we’re neighbors,” at the same time Jamie says, “at a party.”

You both look at each other. “We met because we live across the street from each other,” you say.

Jamie shakes his head, “No, we met a week before you moved in at a party.”

“What party?” you ask. “Pretty sure I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

“Nah,” Jamie replies, “You were too busy getting sloshed with your teammates while they all hit on Keeley.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Was I sloshed?”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “Properly. It was the end of the season, so makes sense.”

“Weird,” you reply. “My first memory of you is when you tried to break into my house because you were too busy snogging this model to figure out you were on the wrong side of the street.”

“Oi, it could happen to anyone!” Jamie says defensively.

“Sure,” you laugh. “Happens to me all the time.”

You reach out to steal the football that’s tucked under Jamie’s arm, but he’s too quick for you. 

“Give it!” you say, still laughing.

He holds it above your head. “Give what?” he asks innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re jumping and trying to pull his arm down to where you can reach and are almost successful when he tosses it to his other hand.

“No fair!” you cry, “You’re taller than me!”

Jamie grins. “Oh, you want the football then? Maybe try asking nicely.”

You still. “Jamie,” you begin, “could you please give me the football?”

He’s still holding it high above you as he considers. “Hm.” He pretends to think for a moment. “No.” He breaks away from you and kicks it into the goal across the field.

“You can have it now,” he says when he returns. You’re trying so hard to be mad at him, but he has that silly little grin he gets when he’s trying to make you laugh and you just can’t fake a frown.

“Screw you, Tartt,” you laugh.

Jamie raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to reply when he’s cut off by the photographer.

“You two get along really well,” she says. “I think you’d be cute together.”

You blush and Jamie says, “I fucking hope so. She’s my girlfriend. Oi, d’you want a picture of us kissing?”

“No she doesn’t,” you say.

“Yes she does,” Jamie says. “We’re fucking adorable, babe. Football’s power couple. Behind Posh and Becks, of course,” he says as an afterthought. 

“Fine,” you say, “One. Then I’m getting that football and your ass is grass, Tartt.”

Jamie grins. “Fine by me, love.”

He leans in to kiss you but you pull away at the last second, sprinting toward the football still under the goalposts. Did he really think you were going to play fair?

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[brights-place]

Hey so like, I was wondering if you could do like a Branch or JD x Metal troll s/o One shots? (Rock or punk if you can’t do metal) but if you can’t do it in general, that’s totally OK. I totally understand ^^

-🪐

Branch and John Dory dating an Metal! S/O

Pairings: Branch X Reader, JD X Reader (Seperate)

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

A/N: As an metal head I'm SCREAMING SO LOUDLY WITH EXCITEMENT! I enjoy this request so I hope you like it since I've been getting very lazy to write more since I have some tests coming up but hope you like it (,,>﹏<,,)

John Dory

- You and John dory meet inside of a metalhead concert... Well more like john dory was going to go drop Floyd off to the concert but his eyes met yours pulled in by your tall figure and your messy like state but the bat wings on your back aswell. - John dory shyly asked you about well Metal music - It turns out that you have many interests in common with each other, both inside and outside of the metal music genre about you. - It was the mutual love of music well your love for it and John dory nodding his head pretending he understands! - that forms a deep bond between you two. As you spend time with your boyfriend and listen to metal, you begin to appreciate his passionate personality and unique style, and begin to fall more and more in love with him as he does with you - You are good friends with Floyd after meeting John dory's family which is acutally pretty cute - When John dory wakes up and see's you looming over him with corpse makeup though he screams so loudly it isn't funny... It is funny - John dory knows yoy have a passion for the genre and always find ways to express yourself through it - He does get freaked out when you play it out of nowhere but hey! he loves you - He sometimes asks you to turn it down which you comply with of course - John dory tries to get you to listen to pop but when you just stare and bop your head slightly he knows you like it but it can't ever replace Metal - He wears your metal shirts just for fun and whenever you see him in them you rush over to hug him - He loves having you kiss him if your wearing black lipstick he likes the kisses since he is touch starved.

Branch

- You met at a concert accidentally bumping into each other - When Branch became a rock zombie and turned back to a pop troll he still enjoyed some rock music and maybe he would enjoy metal music too! - To branch you were a total rockstar - Branch knows how you love everything about metal, from the clothes to the music to the attitude.

- But, behind the confident and tough exterior, Branch has a soft side that only you can see

- You and Branch are a perfect example of opposites attracting. (name) is daring and unpredictable while Branch is reserved and thoughtful.

- You and Branch have a deep connection and understanding of each other despite their differences in genre - Branch is a true supporter of your ambitions and talents especially when you want to jam out and singing metal songs. - You love helping branch grow and gain confidence. - (name) loves talking about metal music with Branch and educating him on the different genres and artists as he stares at you lovingly with an soft smile

- (name) and Branch have a strong sense of loyalty toward each other. - branch always see you often head banging to your favorite heavy metal tunes. - (name) pushes Branch to be the best version of himself by challenging him and encouraging him to step outside of his comfort zone. - You have a wardrobe full of edgy and trendy metal shirts with graphic designs and slogans. - Since your a metal head if he ever finds something he knows you would like for example when vising barb with poppy he bought an Rock and Metal band shirts when he gave it to you he laughed when you kissed his cheeks

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

#fluff #headcannons #trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #dreamworks trolls #john dory headcanons #john dory x reader #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #john dory trolls #trolls fandom #trolls dreamworks #brozone #john dory #branch trolls #branch #Branch X Reader #trolls world tour #x reader

[fariesoiree]

caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you. 

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.”  parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.” 

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one,  it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off  oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately. 

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i���m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

[kingkenzieofmold]

The Jewelled Maverick AU: ‘Pink Starlight’ Ashley Jang

Hi, I have a habit of yoinking other peoples characters and making them into Alternate Versions of themselves. I have created many and have gotten the green light to show off and talk about! This is my Role Swap AU that I made with @mai-mai-lim characters! Ashley Jang and Henry Stickmin [Min Seung-Jae] have Swapped Roles.

Mentioned Characters belong to Respective Creators: Brutus - @smoresthehalloweenqueen Cameron Copperbottom - @rarestdoge

Ashley went on to be a Dazzling Thief Named ‘Pink Starlight’ or ‘Starlight’. She failed at breaking into the bank and was arrested. It took her too long to pick pocket a guard of a phone but she eventually lawyer up!

She heard about the diamond and was not about to fail again. looking into it she discovered the Toppats Plans to steal it and executed the plans before they could. Successfully stealing the diamond and picking up a Mary Popins bag from the museum old movies section.

The government impressed kidnapped her to inflate the airship. Offering her to pardon of her crimes, which is rude cause she worked hard on her criminal record and instead asked them to add more crimes after she done. She gets onto the airship pure blood thief and private Investigator style, heading to the records room she meets Brutus and they have awkward moment. Ashley disguised as a Toppat gets Brutus to help her find a file on the newest heist. He does and she has her file for Galeforce.

Eventually she makes her way to the cells which lead to the vault room. As she wants to rob the Toppat of their Ruby on top of their files. She kidnaps Dave by lock picking his cell and making him get into her Mary Popin’s bag of holding. Fiddling with the door, she can’t get it open and ops for the vents.

She in counters Cameron on the way and after some convincing they head to the vault. Cameron who is really suspicious of her is ready for if she try’s anything. Ashley tricks him and lipstick tasers him, yoinking the ruby making a get away. You see, Ashely did grab the headset for PI. She just never put it on but now in the dark photo room she does. Charles is asking and Galeforce is demanding what’s happening she explains that she needs a distraction and ask if Charles can hack into speaker.

He can and so she makes her move. Heading to the Cargo bay she encounters Cameron again pissed the fuck off and ready to kill her. Speaker hacked they end up in a Friday Night Funkin’ inspired battle. Ashley ends up winning and dipping out of the cargo bay doors. The files she grab were not the correct ones but she did kidnap Dave and handed him over to the government as a witness.

Of course the add crimes made her a prime Wall target and she gets captured by them. Without her bag she has no way of getting out just yet.

In the background between Infiltrating the Airship and Fleeing the Complex both Ashley and Cameron developed a rivalry to have as many articles written about them in comparison to the other. They are determine to be the better thief and have been creating elaborate heists. Sabotage each other’s heists and Cameron has been trying to learn ‘Pink Starlights’ Identity as he doesn’t know it yet.

When Ashley is captured by the Wall it is posted all over the News ruining Camerons mood, so he spends a week planing a heist to break into the wall and Rescue all the Toppats there. Brutus has to convince him not to bust in and they sneak into the facility. They get to the control panel of all the cells and Cameron being impatient key smashes the panel, freeing everyone including Ashely.

Running out of her cell she find the room where her bag is being stored and cartoon style climbs in and charges into her normal thief outfit. Running to the exit she is in a western face off against Cameron and the Toppats. About to have a face off, to which Brutus interrupts and yells at them that they have to do that later cause the Wall is about to be on their asses. Ashley and Cameron give each other the ‘I get you next time’ look before awkwardly exited out the same doors.

The Toppats make their escape towards there stole truck before Brutus gets grabbed by Dimitri, Cameron flipping off Dimitri distracts him and they get away. Cameron about to enter the trucks get pulled out by Dimitri, who is pissed the fuck off by Cameron. Ashely seeing this is not letting it slide and drives up on the motorbike slamming Dimitri with a roundabout sign. Silence before Ashely and Camron start arguing again before Brutus grabs him again and forces him into the truck. Ashley drives out to the small bar and ask Charles for a pick up leading us into Completing the Mission.

The space station launch site is a battle felid when Charles and Ashely arrive. Fighting their way through the chaos they mange to make it to the Space Station just as Cameron Launches it into the air. Managing to grab hook her way onto the cargo bay she climbs in. Charles yelling into her ear that she is going to high altitude and to abort mission looking into the cargo bay determined. She see him.

Seung-Jae, her cousin, who she has not talked to for nine years.

“Ashley?” He whispered unsure whether it’s her or not.

“actually, its Starlight now.” Smiling she jumps from the cargo bay doors pulling out an umbrella and floating down grabbing onto Charles Helicopter rails. Upon Climbing in Charles asks her what happened and she smiles a wide sly grin.

“meet an old acquaintance again.”

On the cargo bay Seung-Jae is stunned not expecting to see his cousin after everything. Brutus in the background looks startled at the realization that Henry Stickmin Knows who ‘Starlight’ actually is. This changes everything.

I hoped you enjoyed my little role swap AU I made from my friend’s characters. I have some more but want to wait to ensure I get the green light on them! I had to leave out a lot of details, as this was meant to be a synopsis. Still ended up way too long so if you made it this far… Hi! I wish you a wonderful day and hope you enjoyed!<3

Any further questions ask maimai please!

Bonus Art

✨Sly Starlight Emote✨

#the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin fanart #henry stickmin au #henry stickmin oc #thsc fanart #thsc au #thsc oc #thsc #thsc ashley jang #thsc henry stickmin #thsc cameron copperbottom #thsc brutus #ashley jang #henry stickmin #cameron copperbottom #brutus #the jewelled maverick au #role swap au

[fernsnailz]

Not sure if you’re familiar with Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time but I feel like Sonic Prime is the animated version of that game like the plot/style doesn’t really fit Sonic games while Crash both stays in that arcade jungle setting AND has the shattered time and space themes which they focus heavily on the recent game. The villains already are a bunch of scientists and I feel like either the team from Crash games or someone specific like Nicholas Cole just slapped Sonic Prime on the script for a Crash Netflix show and edited some characters

okay i understand the point you’re trying to make, but unfortunately you sent this ask to someone who works in animation and i need to set the record straight here: that is not how TV animation works

first, you’re right that Nicholas Kole worked on both Crash 4 and Sonic Prime! he’s also done work for the Spyro series, some Disney projects, and a bunch of other cool stuff. however, he specializes almost entirely in character design and concept art. this means that he helped develop specific parts of the visual look for Prime REALLY early on, such as designing some of the characters like Knuckles the Dread. however, that was likely the extent of his involvement in the show. character designers and concept artists normally do not edit the script, and often these artists draw their concepts before the script is even finished.

this is all stuff that happens VERY early in a show’s development, so Kole’s work on the show is probably multiple years old by now. and yeah, that jungle art DOES look a bit like the stuff that he did on Crash 4… because that’s just what Kole's art style looks like. he uses bright colors and varied shapes in a really distinct way on EVERY project he works on, which is probably why they hired him on Prime!

but even if that concept art was inspired by Crash, the jungle universe doesn’t even look like the concept art in the final version of the show! because it was concept art!! it was meant to be an exploration in styles, not a definitive look at the final product. this jungle below is a COMPLETELY different look than what was explored in the concept art. it sooooorta looks like the style of Crash 4, but it's FAR different from the initial concepts presented earlier.

(any person who modeled and painted this environment would ALSO have to be a dedicated Crash fan if they wanted to just turn Sonic Prime into Crash Prime)

and so far, this is completely ignoring the fact that the jungle concept art included in the ask probably isn't even Kole's. it looks very different from his style to me, and as far as i can find no artist has actually been credited for the leaked Prime concept art floating around. Kole has only mentioned his contributions to the character designs on Prime.

this is all a HUGE tanget from the actual argument you're trying to make in this ask, and i apologize for that - but my main point here is that this is a trend i see a lot in online fandoms, where people really like to place blame for issues in media onto one specific person and say "hey it's THIS guy's fault that this show is bad." what a lot of people don’t seem to understand is that these are collaborative art forms. there are so, so many people who worked on Prime, all the way from the first draft of the script to when it was being exported for Netflix, and a lot of these people probably don’t even show up in the credits! if there’s something you don’t like about this show, it’s unfair to single out a specific person to blame because TV shows are not made by one person. they come from a team of artists all working together to try and make something great, not one of the concept artists trying to turn the new sonic show into Crash 5. Nicholas Kole is a single character designer that worked on Prime. he is not solely responsible for an artstyle that you may dislike, because he is not the only person that developed the artstyle. there is no specific person to blame here.

regardless, i can’t really say much about your main point concerning the similarities between Crash 4 and Prime because i don't know as much about Crash series. my instinct is to just go “yeah of course they’re similar, multiverse stories with brightly colored rocks are the big trend in all franchises right now and they’re both 3D platformers from similar eras of gaming that have always featured cartoon talking animals fighting evil scientists, so of course they’ll seem alike.” but hey i mean what do i know

that's all, please know that this isn't meant to be an attack against you or anything! i'm just really used to seeing people blame individual artists and animators for stuff that isn't their fault, and i'm just. kinda tired of it. i will also spare you from my second ramble/disagreement about a sonic game or show in the crash style. because i think that would look fuckin INCREDIBLE

#blease.. if you're going to critique an animated project then have a basic understanding of how the animation pipeline works #hello welcome to my nicholas kole defense post in this essay i will explain how animation for TV is made #fernasks #long post

[delta-pavonis]

Dream Journal Rescue for the wip game, please

WHOO! Thank you for asking about this one, Nonny.

For the 2022 Dreamling Secret Santa I took a risk and wrote something that can be very divisive in fanfic and in fiction in general: first person narrative. I wrote the first half of i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) as a dream journal that Hob used to record his dreams after they came back when Dream got out of the fishbowl in 2021. It draws both from the early comics and from the TV show in terms of events/timeline. This fic got significantly less attention than the others I had written at the time, but it was also the one I was most proud of that year (and that's with Eros in Pragma and Hypnopompia turtur in there!). I am still extremely proud of it because it is, for me, I think very poetic writing. However, the first version of i had a dream wasn't post-fishbowl, but actually started before the fishbowl. Hob still kept a dream journal, and it still started in first person, but the idea originally was that Hob would figure out that something had happened to his Stranger because of his dreams stopping. Which meant that they needed to have enough of a relationship/rapport by the 1910s that Hob would trust that Dream would not miss a dream "date" of theirs without very good reason. Hence, "dream journal rescue" as the name. I only have pieces of the fic, but I keep them because I still viscerally love what I did with i had a dream SO FUCKING MUCH that I want to return to that style at some point. If you have read i had a dream you will see the bits I took from this and transferred to that.

This is totally G-rated and starts before 1889, as Hob is anticipating that next meeting, and then keeps going into 1914. Here's what I have in that WIP file:

1:

21 October 1885

I think I need to write these down. Olive suggested I start writing these down. She is usually right about such things.  

Maybe it will bring some clarity to this… mess. 

I’m in the White Horse Inn. (It is always the White Horse.) 

The year is not obvious from the decor, which is a riotous mix of 1389 and 1489 and 1789. Delicate teacups and straw-covered floor and fireplaces with chimneys. Of course chimneys. But I know, in the way of dreams, that it is the day of our annual appointment, the next one, in 1889. 

I shake my coat and hat free of the London morning rain. I am many hours before the time of our appointment. This my usual - I always arrive early. To ready the table and, more importantly, myself for our meeting. 

But in this dream I enter the White Horse to find the Stranger already there. He looks exactly as he did in 1789. Which must say something about my imagination since he has always been in impeccable fashion specific to the era of our meeting. 

Or perhaps it is because he looks at me with the same burning intensity that made our last appointment so spectacular. His eyes devour me, just as they did when we parted last, and I am absolutely helpless to resist.

I am sitting then, across from him, cups of tea and venison pasties between us. His beautiful pale fingers trace around the gilded edge of the teacup. I am speaking, words tumbling forth, I can hear the droning vibrations in my ears and throat, but it is not where my attention lies. 

My attention is riding the wave in his coalblack hair. My attention is wafting the bob of his throat above his high collar. My attention is tracing the sweet pout of his pink lips. My attention is flying through storm-sky eyes. 

He reaches across and

Fuck. I can’t write this.

2:

[There are several attempts at starting entries after the previous one. None manage more than a sentence.]

[No attempts at entries are made after 1889.]

3:

1 November 1898

I woke up still drunk and still in very rural Wales (note: never ever always maybe return for Nos Calan Gaeaf in the future) and found this old journal in the bottom of my trunk, so I suppose I shall once again make a valiant attempt to take dear Olive’s advice to sort out the dreams of my Stranger that ever plague me.

(I have heard tell of work by a man named Freud who claims dreams can be used to better understand someone’s psychology and potentially even relieve psychosis. He'd have a field day with me. May I never come within 400 miles of him.)

My drunk mind lacks creativity for scenery and so when I sleep this night I find myself in the same village square I was in only hours prior… however, I am back in time about 400 years? Long before the industrialization of the region, before the extermination of these old traditions by the expansion of “civilization.”

I have just won the silly harvest mare from the clutches of the other young men bringing the last of the harvest in, a horse-shaped horror made from the final stalks of grain reaped. I am now expected to try to sneak this rustling beast into the home where the bulk of the feast is being prepared by the womenfolk without one of them dousing me with washwater. If I succeed in getting into the kitchen unscathed I will win their finest beer and an honored seat at the feast-table. I am always up for new games.

(This is all Iwan’s fault for convincing me to accompany him home for the holiday yesterday and for me getting drunk while they all told me stories of the Old Days. Let it never be said that I abandon a friend in their time of need.)

I easily weave through the crowds of women and children, in their dresses and aprons and smocks, clothing I haven’t seen in centuries but are still as real as yesterday, and cross the kitchen threshold only to find the room empty. An empty kitchen except for the crackle of the hearthfire and my Stranger sat on a barrel in front of it. 

The large fire paints him in oranges and golds and he looks warm and inviting in a way that I have never experienced outside of my mind. It is the moment I know for certain that this is a dream. 

When he looks up to me he appears confused, brows drawn, lips parted. 

I am the first to speak, although words do not come easily to me. “What…?” After our parting in 1889 I can scarce understand why I am seeing him before me now. Although nightmares of the night plagued me in the months afterwards, I had been blessedly free of any night-time visits from my Stranger for almost a decade now. It has been an unexpected boon after so many years of dreaming of him more carnally. I know these facts within the dream. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t stand, cranes his neck back to look up at me, and I realize he has a low collar this night, lower than it had been even in 1489. I can see flame-gold arcing around the shadowed hollow of his throat.

“It is a Ysbrydnos.” He explains in perfect Welsh, as if I am some child. I do not question why I can so easily understand him despite my mediocre grasp of the language. It is a dream, after all. “Many call on me such nights.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, ‘tis a Spirit Night and you a spirit.” 

He tilts his head to the side, bird-like and distinctly not human. “Not as such. But I will attend the dreams of many who call me here this night.” The Stranger’s voice is just as rich and decadent as it is in person. This detail my memory - traitorous bastard it is - does not neglect. 

“Of course. Even the version of you I make for my dreams gives non-answers and evasions.” I can feel my whole body hunch in defeat. I wrap my arms around myself, look to the floor. “Just why…” Even my dream cannot steady my voice. “Why does my mind show you to me now? Why this torment?”

“Ah.” Now his voice is choked and staccato. “You did not call me here yourself this night.” Perhaps he is surprised, or ashamed, I cannot tell. 

Still, I want to scream. “After last time…” I grit my teeth and continue to stare at the floor. 

I see the toes of his black shoes enter my field of view. His chest is perhaps a handspan from mine. “Do you truly wish to never dream of me?” This inquiry is a mocking echo of his usual question, but there is no mockery in his tone. “Given…" He shakes his head, unable to say the words. Say the words he should say: Given what I did to you… Instead he restarts the sentence, "It would be well within your right to request it.”

I sigh. He almost sounds remorseful. What a fantasy this is. How contrived. “No.” And if I ever doubted before that this was a dream the tiny bits of relief I see wash over my Stranger confirms it. His eyes soften minutely. His shoulders relax a hair's breadth. “This might be the only chance I have to ever see you again. And I would take the machinations of my mind, I would take delusions of your regard, over nothing.”

He hums, looking back to the fire as he takes a step away from me. I feel cold and bereft. “This dream is over.”

And then I woke up.

3: 

1 Nov 1898  I have not dreamed of him in six months. one year.         three years.         seven          ten          fifteen 

4:

25 May 1914

After almost 17 years I found myself dreaming of the White Horse last night and when I focused upon it in my mind’s eye I almost burst into tears.

Wait, Olive always said that this was more effective if I narrated as if I was reliving the dream. That I would get more details back that way.

I begin the dream standing outside the White Horse Inn and knowing that I am dreaming. It is the first time I have begun a dream this aware and therefore it is noteworthy. 

When I enter I feel his presence before I see it. Through the doors in the back, to the private room that had been set aside for us in 1789. He is once again in front of a fireplace, standing this time, hands clasped at the small of his back as he looks down into the flames. 

(Note: Ponder this pattern more later, that I associate him in dreams with fire.)

The door to the room automatically closes behind me and he turns. Despite the venue, he is dressed, as always, in the pinnacle of fashion. All black - of course - but a suit with long jacket and waistcoat and tie nonetheless. The ever-present ruby sits heavy and dark just below his throat.

“I did not intend the delay, Hob.” And doesn’t that throw me for a loop. I did not know prior to that moment that one could get dizzy in their own dreams. “I sometimes forget that time flows… differently… for you humans. But I did think on our last conversation.”

Thirty questions stampede through my mind at once. Everything from ‘Did he just directly admit that he is not human?’ to ‘Which last time?’ I throw all of these aside and instead opt for a cautiously lilted “And?”

A magnanimous wave of his hand and we are sitting, the same tea and sweets that were present in 1789 grace the table between us. I hold my breath. “Perhaps we can pick up, as much as we can, where we were in 1789 before the Lady Constantine interrupted us.” I am so taken aback by the turn this dream has taken that I cannot for the life of me think of what to say next. Luckily, my mind does not require me to as he continues. “I believe you asked my name.”

I almost fall over myself to give him leave to avoid it. “Only if you wish it.” Just don't leave again.

He smiles, something brighter than usual, and it feels like looking into the Sun. “I have a list of titles, which we can get to later, but the simplest name is Dream.”

I clamp down on the anguish that’s in my throat, but it still comes out as a high-pitched wheeze from between my teeth. “Dream?! DREAM?!?” I let myself slump boneless into the chair, impropriety be damned, and splay my legs out in front of me, hands over my face. “Oh fuck my mind and these GAMES. Why can it not send me sweet dreams of you? Of COURSE you are named Dream… you are a dream! Has my subconscious no creativity? Christ in heaven…”

“Hob!” He shouts. He has never shouted at me before. I look to him through my fingers, meet twilight-blue eyes. “My name is Dream of the Endless and I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

Shock, bright white and violent, runs through me and I quite literally fall out of my chair.

And then I wake up.

5:

26 May 1914

I do not think I have ever been more wrong about something in my long long life.

Fuck. 

My Stranger is Dream. He lords over dreams and nightmares. They are his Domain, his Kingdom. 

F U C K

I knew that he was something Other. But this. This. 

We met again last night, in my dreams. I don’t need to work at this anymore (thanks for trying, Olive) because he asked me last night if I wanted to remember this, remember meeting him. Apparently he has some manner of control over such things.

I told him yes. Of course I said yes. But I think I want to continue to keep track of what has happened, what will happen, in my dreams, here in this journal. If only so that I have something to refer to later when I have absolutely zero confidence that this is real. Some proof that I haven’t gone completely barmy. 

Last night we talked. Just talked. It was in a liminal space, barely distinct as containing a floor and walls and chairs. All monotone, in blacks and greys and faint whites. It still reminded me of the back room from 1789.

He - Dream - told me so much. More than he had ever said to me in one go ever before. He told me some of his other names: Lord Morpheus (or just Morpheus), Prince of Stories, Oneiros, Shaper of Forms. He has a kingdom, home to dreams and nightmares alike. They are not only his citizens, but he creates them. Creates!

I have so so many questions.

But I must parcel them out carefully. Each answer is a treasure I will hoard. 

I returned his generosity with words of my own.

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes #another dream journal fic

[bengiyo]

We Are Better Together: Why I Enjoyed the Our Skyy 2 Crossover

I enjoyed this four-part special with every part of my being, but I’m a gay man in his thirties that often feels like I understand exactly where Aof is coming from in his work. As I’ve said many times on this block and in @the-conversation-pod, I desperately want more stories about gays sticking together alongside all of the stories about discovering love. For so many reasons, I love that Aof chose to use Pat and Pran as a catalyst to help Tian and Phupha, and in turn compare their relationship with another couple experiencing some of the same challenges lets them see themselves properly. I have a lot to say, so let’s just get into it.

Funding A Tale of Thousand Stars

There is no way Aof was going to be able to produce a Tale of Thousand Stars special without merging the Bad Buddy budget. If you start from the fundamental problem that it’s expensive to film on a mountain, we need to find a problem that works well. At the end of ATOTS, Tian and Phupha agree to stay in Pha Pun Dao together, but there’s no way that can work forever. Tian has medical needs and a family in Bangkok. We also never resolved the lingering doubts and uncertainty that plagued Phupha in the story, since we focused on Tian’s journey.

With Pat and Pran, they were set on their commitment to each other after episode 11. They are just hiding themselves in college, and won’t experience any changes without some form of outside stimulus. Likewise, Tian and Phupha live in a bubble. I love the idea of shoving these four men together and seeing what comes out of it.

Playing with Archetypes and Expectations

I particularly like Aof shoving these four characters together because it allows Aof to further poke at our expectation and assumptions about BL characters. Aof is aware of the cultural understanding around seme and uke archetypes, and the decision to style Pran to physically resemble Tian is not subtle. However, as we move through the special, we realize that Pran has more in common with Phupha than he does Tian. What a gift that is from, Aof.

Aof invites the viewers through Pran to consider where they sit as viewers in these stories. We are often asked to ride along with our primary viewpoint character and see the world through their lens. Sure, we can challenge their lens, and ask the audience to grow along with the character, but I truly love the way this story hands the lens over to Phupha as we move through this special. As a gay man in his thirties, I am particularly fond of Phupha and the decision to focus on him.

It is hard growing up the way some of us did. We don’t have BL experiences like the ones we fawn over in these shows. Life was hard. We suffered. Some of us are stuck performing a version of masculinity that we haven’t ever been able to unlearn. I continue to present normie because it’s what I was trained to do. I make use of it as the face of my local queer circle. I talk to the government when we need someone who won’t get ignored right away, just like Phupha dedicates himself to the people of his village.

We might expect Pat and Phupha to mirror each other because of their physicality, but that breaks almost instantly. They’re unlike each other. The first allusion to this comes in the reminder that Tian is an engineer, and so is Pat. Additionally, Phupha rejects Tian’s diary immediately because he only gives it a surface reading. It’s only once he gets to know Pran and Pat a bit, and really listens to what Tian is saying that he starts to wake up.

I personally loved seeing these characters get lost in the woods and spin around each other for an entire episode. The best thing you can do when you’re lose in the woods is stay where you are and wait for rescue to find you. Tian can’t do that, and honestly neither can Pat. The common thread between them is how antsy and foolish they can be. Tian went all the way up a mountain with a weak heart the way only a fool could. Pat rushed after Pran to the wilderness with barely a plan because all that matters is getting to Pran.

Like many of the baby gays we sometimes help with volunteering, I wish they would just sit still and let us find them. They’re in such a hurry to grow up and do all the big gay milestones that they’ve envisioned for themselves, but it just doesn’t work like that. Sometimes you have to just finish school and become financially independent. Sometimes you need to let your partner get the help they need and the right diagnosis to manage their neurotic behaviors. Sometimes you need to just having someone beg you to just sniff your boyfriend and get over yourself. Sometimes you need someone who actually understands the weight of internalized homophobia you carry validate that it’s hard. Sometimes you just need to accept that you are now a “we” and admit openly that you can’t live without each other.

You Blame the Rebel That You Sold Out

I’ve been thinking a lot about the instinct I’ve noticed to pick apart the creative team when people find they aren’t enjoying a show for some reason. I wrote about this first during The Eclipse, and I’m feeling it again here. As I said there, I’ll say here: It’s okay to say you didn’t like something and didn’t find this to be your taste.

I’m a lifelong Star Trek fan who can’t watch Lower Decks because I find American animation to rely on a loud quality that I find overstimulating. I also don’t appreciate Seth McFarlane’s brand of humor. I didn’t get into Star Trek: Prodigy because it’s aimed at kids in a way that I found a bit boring to engage with. I think Star Trek Picard is overall pretty bad and a waste of nostalgia. I still love Star Trek, and find things worth engaging with every time I sit down and watch new things.

I recently attended a Matchbox Twenty concert and have been thinking about the song “Rebels” from their new album Where the Light Goes. There’s a portion of the lyrics that I think best covers how I feel about this instinct to turn on the creators when they do something you don’t like with characters they created.

And it's all exciting You were so alive Like a wheel in motion You were terrified you'll lose it Hell, everybody loses It was never how you wanted Now it's never good enough We're all rebels when we're young I think it's time you let it go now When you get angry with yourself You blame the rebel that you sold out You blame the rebel that you sold out That you sold out Let go and be yourself right now Let go and be yourself right now Let go and be yourself right now Let go and be yourself right now

It’s all fun and games when experiences are new to us. We’re excited to be in this new untested space for the first time, but we are all changed by it. We bring different lenses and experiences to the table. We take different things from the stories, and our tastes change because of these experiences. Then the creator comes back with a new season or new outing with these characters and they have different things they want to focus on this time. It’s not what we wanted, and so we turn on them. The only way out of that is to let go and see who you are now.

Aof is a gay man who is working at a major company to tell meaningful queer stories. Aof clearly knows that life is the future, not the past. He’s committed to bridging us to a better world for queer people so that we can see each other more.

We Are Better Together

I love that Pat and Pran met Tian and Phupha. I love that these characters made each other better in the brief week they spent together. I like that they became friends and expanded their queer circle. Your relationship is not the only component you need for stability in your life. You can get stuck in a rut. You need other people to talk to you. You need outlets for your frustration. You need friends to remind you that you’re being obnoxious, and maybe you should just have sex and see if the issue is still there.

Tian and Phupha were not at their best alone. Pat and Pran were not at their best alone. I love the idea of a lonely Pran looking for queer connection on the web and discovering Tian’s diary. I love the romantic notions he projected onto Tian and seeing them shattered by the intense physical reality of life in Pha Phun Dao, and his interactions with Phupha.

About ten years ago, we had a member of our circle who tried to view our group through the lens of Noah’s Arc, and he struggled with fact that we didn’t fit exactly. What a joy it is to realize that your own queerness is distinct in this world, and that you and your friends are special. Bad Buddy and A Tale of Thousand Stars are BETTER for me now that they’ve touched each other.

I love that Phupha finally let Tian love him the way Tian wants to. I love that he let go of his concern about Tian’s wealth. I like that he let Tian’s parents see him properly and extend to love to him that he’s given their son. I like that he finally let’s them thank him for helping their son find stability and purpose, because Phupha maybe doesn’t appreciate how much of a fuck up Tian was being before the transplant. I love that Phupha found it in himself to propose to Tian. I love that Phupha let Tian take charge in the bedroom. I love that Phupha gave Pat and Pran the gift of sharing their love on a stage to adoring fans, and giving Wai a chance at redemption. Pran got to see people finally cheering for their love online.

I can’t claim to understand everyone’s frustrations with this special, and I won’t pretend to. However, I wanted to say quite plainly that as a gay viewer who has appreciated Aof’s work for years, I was particularly touched by this crossover. I don’t care about the balance other seem concerned about between Pat and Pran. I don’t care about how much they did or didn’t talk. All I know is that since episode 5 of Bad Buddy, Pat has shown that he’s all in on Pran and has never waivered. I like that so much of this special was about Pran finally accepting the way Pat loves him, just like Phupha learned to accept the way Tian loves him.

It really is as simple as the final sequence for Pat and Pran for me. It’s Pat asking if they can finally kiss and Pat and Pran again and finally getting that, Pa interruptions and everything.

So, I hope everyone finds peace with reactions to this special. I am completely satisfied, and excited to see what Aof wants to say next in Last Twilight, despite my reservations about Jimmy.

#our skyy 2 #bad buddy #a tale of thousand stars #bad buddy meta #atots meta #Ben watches

[weyounthevorta]

EDIT: Check out the newer version here, which has juicy new spicy content and two new characters (Harriman Gray and the Captain)

I saw something similar posted by @undeadgayboynes and was inspired to create my own. Which Combs character would you date?

Thy’lek Shran (Star Trek Enterprise)

‪Pros: Strong sense of justice, good at what he does, sexy, energetic. He’ll fight for what’s right and he’ll protect you with his life. He has a soft side and he’s not afraid to show it.‬

Cons: Hotheaded, a bit rash.

Anton Mordrid (Doctor Mordrid)

Pros: Fights evil, lives a quiet life. Financially stable. Has a romantic streak. Is an all around sweet guy who will bring you breakfast in bed and read to you. He teaches you wizardry.

Cons: Absolutely tragic sense of style.

Chaz (Dead Man Walking)

Pros: Is objectively very cute. He’d risk his life for yours without question. He works past his fear to achieve his goals. No doubt a snuggler big on showing affection.

Cons: Is a bit whiney, possibly has the plague. Tragic taste in nicknames.

Crawford Tillinghast (From Beyond)

Pros: Brilliant scientist and inventor. Submissive and sweet. Romance with him would be chaste and old fashioned. He’d do his best to keep you safe. Cute little guy in a big sweater.

Cons: Sexually repressed. A bad luck magnet. Despite his best efforts, trouble finds him.

Andrew Paris (Phantom Empire)

Pros: Strong sex appeal. Wears the tightest pants in existence. He wouldn’t object to spontaneous adventures. A relationship with him would be impulsive and quirky.

Cons: Any girl who flirts with him is a legit threat. He’s a slutty, wanton little strumpet.

Bill Knight (Felony)

Pros: Handsome, charismatic crime fighter. Eager to hop in bed with you if you show a smidgeon of kindness toward him. He whimpers very prettily. He’s quick and agile.

Cons: He is a total hazard. You’re in the line of fire if you hang with him. He may break into your house. He’s flown through an absurd number of windows.

D-Day (Fortress)

Pros: Adorable, good with machines. There’s kindness in him. He will risk his life for his friends. A relationship with him would consist of tentative, shy, and guarded advances.

Cons: He is easily led into dangerous situations. He needs a dentist. Hes in jail.

Weyoun (Star Trek Deep Space 9)

Pros: Ethereal. Obscenely sexy. Knows what he wants and how to get it. If he chooses to be devoted to you, he’ll be loyal unto death. Loves to have fun, and loves to tease. Kinky.

Cons: Religious nut. Can’t appreciate art, food, and many simple pleasures. Manipulative.

John Reilly (Castle Freak)

Pros: Handsome DILF. He wants to improve his life. Repentant of his sins, affectionate.

Cons: Touch starved, desperate, directionless, alcoholic, and when he falls off the wagon he falls all the way off. He also comes from a family of lunatics so there’s that.

James Wilkins (Hunter S07E13)

Pros: Sensual as fuck. Life with him would be a roller coaster ride of sex and danger. Tattoos, leather, fast cars, and he can’t keep his hands off you.

Cons: He’s a thief and a murderer. He’s attracted to women more dangerous than he is.

Milton Dammers (The Frighteners)

Pros: Once upon a time he was probably a sweet guy. He wants to rid the world of evil so desperately that he’s sacrificed his own sanity to do it.

Cons: He’s a broken man. He’s completely lost his grip on reality. He’s scarred, scared, troubled, and no you can’t fix him.

Herbert West (Reanimator)

Pros: Definitely handsome. On some level he wants to do something great for humankind. He’s capable of affection in his own bizzare way. Life with him would certainly never be dull. Despite his abrasiveness he’s got an undeniable magnetism.

Cons: Morals? Never heard of ‘em. Healthy boundaries are a non starter. His definition of intimacy likely won’t be aligned with yours. He will latch onto you like the codependent, murderous, evil little gremlin he is until one or both of you is dead or in jail.

#jeffrey combs #commander shran #thy'lek shran #shran #star trek enterprise #star trek #Anton Mordrid #doctor mordrid #chaz #dead man walking #crawford tillinghast #from beyond 1986 #andrew paris #phantom empire 1988 #bill knight #felony #d day #fortress 1992 #weyoun #star trek ds9 #ds9 #john reilly #castle freak #James wilkins #hunter #milton dammers #the frighteners #herbert west #reanimator

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Way Over Yonder [Song Fic Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Song Fic style 1. Lyrics for a song are used as inspiration for the fic, often woven throughout the story "Bucky finds solace in your body and the seaside"

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio) No use of y/n.

WC: 850

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Way over yonder Is a place that I know Where I can find shelter From a hunger and cold And the sweet tastin' good life Is so easily found A way over yonder, that's where I'm bound

The breeze blew off the bay, a cooling contrast against Bucky’s face to the heated temperature of his skin in the sunshine.

A creaking behind him broke him out of his peaceful trance, the door to the cabin in Maine the two of you rented for the week closed with a snap as you joined him on the porch.

You’d convinced him to take a break, a vacation, and now he didn’t know if he could go back to Brooklyn. Not when things here with you were so calm, exactly the life he never thought he’d have.

The cushions of the outdoor sofa gave way as you plopped down beside him, curling into his side and finding his neck with your lips in an intricate dance of delicacy and seduction.

“Doll, that’s the third time today, I’m an old man sweetheart, I don’t know if I can handle going again.”

“Mmm but you’re also a super soldier with super stamina. And I’m sorry that I just can’t get enough of you this week. I want to make the most of our romantic getaway. Plus, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Content. The happy, at peace version of you that only I get glimpses of. Makes me just fall in love with you even more.”

I know when I get there The first thing I'll see Is the sun shining golden Shining right down on me Then trouble's gonna lose me Worry leave me behind And I'll stand up proudly In true peace of mind

The familiar scent of your warm sun-kissed skin surrounded him. Bucky worked his lips in lazy, open mouthed kisses along your collarbone and chest. As many times as he’d had you this trip, there was no rush, no urgency to how he laid you down on the blue-painted floor of the porch. It was just the two of you in this little moment you’d made, and he wanted to bask in it as long as possible.

Looking positively ethereal beneath him in the dewey, afternoon glow as he slowly unbuttoned and removed your linen dress. No previous lover had ever touched you as delicately as Bucky, it was as if you were made of sand and would slip right through his fingers at any moment. He took his time, making sure the caresses of his metal fingers were just as gentle as those of his flesh ones.

And as you steadied yourself above him, rocking your hips in rhythm with the waves in the distance while he was buried deep inside your velvety walls, he swore he’d never felt such bliss. Cerulean eyes alight with wonder as his body, once made for violence, now met yours to do nothing but give and receive pleasure and love.

Talkin' about A way over yonder Is a place I have seen In a garden of wisdom From some long ago dream

You whispered his name like a sacred prayer into his mouth as he kissed you through your orgasm, driving into you over and over, hoping to prolong this moment just a little longer. To make this peace with you take up a little more space in his heart and drown out the darkness just a little more. He held you close as he came undone inside you, your sweaty skin sticking to his, salty air dancing on his lips as he moaned your name over and over.

As you regained composure, you hummed soft kisses into his skin while he steadied his breathing. Limbs entangled with his as the hardness of the floor dug into your back and you finally noticed just how uncomfortable the location was, but his warm skin pressed against yours was enough to make you stay like that just a little while longer.

“You know, when I first got out… after everything” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully as his gaze bore into yours “one of the SHIELD therapists said to me ‘there will be moments in your life, that you’ll be so happy, so content, that you’ll be glad you kept going, just to get there.”

“This one of them?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Ooh maybe tomorrow I'll find my way To the land where the honey runs In rivers each day And the sweet tastin' good life Is so easily found A way over yonder That's where I'm bound

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #winter soldier #fatws #winter soldier x reader #mcu fic #bucky smut #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #trope de sept #trope

[late-to-the-party-81]

Contentment

AN: So here is something a little different inspired by this ask from my sweet Nicoline

@nicoline1998enilocin asked: Hi! 💙 I hope I'm still on time to request something for your 1.5K follower celebration! This idea has been swirling around my mind since seeing your message that they're open and of course I forgot about it with my scatterbrain. 🫠 I don't know if you've ever written anything like this (in case you have, it's okay to ignore this message), but may I request some soft/slow morning smut with Loki? Perhaps with some of his magic included as well? Before I forget, congratulations on reaching 1.5K followers, and I wish you many many more because your work is amazing and you deserve it 💙

Unfortunately there is no magic in this, other than the magic that is just Loki, but I hope you still enjoy. You also get a two for one - the second part is a very lyrical drabble, from the Reader POV, which came to me first, but I then re-wrote from Loki’s POV to add more detail and in case people didn’t like that style. Click here to find it.

Not beta’d

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list 

Summary: With a new day comes a new chance for Loki to show you what you mean to him. He can’t wait until you wake up.

He was lying behind you, as usual, one strong arm slung over your waist, holding the bottom half of you flush against him. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you, so hadn’t moved, just watched as the invading light and retreating shadows cast shifting stories over your skin. One persistent shaft of sunlight had encroached so far that it lay across your shoulder and under its warm touch you stirred.

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Word count: 1k

CW: Sleepy Sex, Soft Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Loki PoV

Loki didn’t know how long he’d been lying awake. The colour inside the room had shifted from black, to deep purple, to pink and then to orange as the sun rose outside the window. However, time meant nothing to him when he was with you.

He was lying behind you, as usual, one strong arm slung over your waist, holding the bottom half of you flush against him. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you, so hadn’t moved, just watched as the invading light and retreating shadows cast shifting stories over your skin. One persistent shaft of sunlight had encroached so far that it lay across your shoulder and under its warm touch you stirred.

Loki’s lips twitched up into a smile. You were waking and soon he would see the brightness of your eyes as you welcomed the new day.

“Good morning, darling,” he whispered softly in your ear and he looked on, enamoured, as your eyelids and nose scrunched up as your brain tried to cling onto your fading slumber. 

Softly, he brushed his lips over your shoulder blade, wishing that his lips could leave marks that would stay adorning your skin for all to see. He shifted the hand that lay on your waist, his fingers gently stroking over the soft skin of your abdomen. At first you had tried to hide this part of yourself from him, self-conscious about the rolls and marks to be found there, especially in comparison to his own defined abdominals. However, he’d let you know in a myriad of ways since then that he loved every single inch of you and that any changes you wished to make to your body should be for yourself, and not out of some misguided notion of what appealed to him. Every version of you was perfect.

However, as much as he normally loved to worship your body with slow reverence, the time he had spent waiting for you to wake had made him impatient, and Loki slid his hand further down your body, skimming between your folds. You sighed at his touch, your hips rolling instinctually. You rocked, still half asleep, forward onto his hand and then back onto his erection, where it grazed your ass. Shivers rocked Loki’s body, but as impatient as he was, he could still manage to wait, just a little longer.

Loki knew your body so well now - knew just how and where to touch you, and it wasn’t long until his tender strokes had your cunt gushing. Part of him wished he could see it, but this would do for now. He would savour the whimpers that broke from your lips as his fingers finally dipped inside of you, his thumb taking over the stimulation to your clit. He rolled his wrist and curled his fingers as you continued to rock forwards and backwards. Your channel clutched at his fingers and one of your hands now clung onto his forearm. He kissed your shoulder once more and your body tensed then juddered under his touch, your head still turned slightly into the pillow, absorbing some of the sounds of your ecstasy. 

He smiled to himself as you drew in deep breaths, but then Loki turned you to lie on your back. He covered your body with his own, his hips slotting between your thighs as though you were two matched puzzle pieces. His hair, dark as a raven’s wing, tumbled over his shoulder and he looked down at you, marvelling at the way your eyes were fixed upon his, your adoration clearly telegraphed on your face. You only shifted your gaze when his tongue poked out between his lips and he snorted in amusement, knowing exactly where your mind was going. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d indulge that particular fantasy of yours later on, but his patience was exhausted. He needed you! Now! 

Loki lined himself up with your puffy cunt and you spread your legs even further, tilting up your hips as he slowly sank inside. He let out a groan in time with yours and enjoyed the way you clung to him as he started to move his own hips, slow and sensuous. Bracing himself on one forearm, Loki trailed his lips across your jaw and throat, nipping at your skin, while his free hand roamed over every inch of your body he could reach. The breathy sighs you made in response were music to his ears.

“My beautiful darling,” he cooed in your ear. “Just feel it, my love. Feel how much I adore you.”

The way you moved under him, incapable of coherent speech, made him feel both powerful and possessive. He had done this to you and only him. No-one else would make you feel the way he does. No-one else would be privy to the sounds you make as pleasure sweeps you away. They are all his. A Prince of Asgard he may be, but he was the King of your body, and he would make no apologies.

You trembled and whined and he kept his steady pace, despite how difficult it became. The way your body clenched around him was driving Loki closer to his own peak, but he needed you to precede him.

“Let go for me, dove,” he told you and, the good girl that you were, you did, your body seizing around him, milking his cock, as you tumbled headfirst into bliss. A few more strokes and he could hold out no more, following you with his own cry, his hips now jerking without rhythm as he spilled into you.

Somehow he managed to roll to the side, pulling you with him, your arms and legs entwined. He held you close, his heart feeling so full he was worried it might burst. He pressed kisses to your forehead. Your nose. Your chin.

“My angel. My dove. You are the centre of my world. You saved me, darling.”

He mumbled his words as you looked up at him, eyes glazed and cloudy with a combination of residual pleasure and sleep.

He loved you so much. You made him content.

Tag list: @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @buttercupcookies-blog, @goldylions, @crayongirl-linz,

#loki x reader #loki drabble #loki imagine #loki x female reader #fic request #loki pov #loki x you

[oraclekleo]

BHS Tarot Reading - Hyunjin (Stray Kids)

BHS Game stands for Blindfold - Handcuff - Spank and it’s a more spicy variant of the Kiss - Marry - Kill game. This passive version of the BHS Tarot Game describes idols’ reactions to them being on the receiving and giving side of these activities. Depending on your preferences, you can read only the parts you personally feel drawn to or you can read it all out of curiosity. This version describes the situation from the idol’s perspective but can include some details about you, if the cards indicate it.

Disclaimer:

All celebrity readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

Feedback: Feedback is very important for content creators and for me it’s even more important. Please, let me know whether the tarot readings resonate. If there’s anything you dislike or find off about my readings (like wording, topics, focus), just tell me. I don’t want you to write 1000-word feedback, very simple comments will do for me to stay motivated. I don’t know why I have to keep repeating this but this is something I do for you, guys, and when I don’t feel motivated to do tarot readings, I have many other things to do. The more motivation I get, the more readings you will get to read. The logic is very simple but it’s two sided.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Requester: /

Deck(s): Erotic Fantasy Tarot, Tarot of Sexual Magic, Tarot of Casanova

Spread: BHS

Questions:

Blindfolded by you

Handcuffed by you

Spanked by you

Blindfolds you

Handcuffs you

Spanks you

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Hwang Hyun Jin

Stage Name: Hyunjin

Group: Stray Kids

DOB: 20.03.2000

Blood Type: B

MBTI: INFP

Sun Sign: Pisces

Chinese Sign: Metal Dragon

Life Path Number: 7

Masterpost: Stray Kids

Hyunjin (Stray Kids) - Sub

Blindfolded by you (VI The Lovers, Page of Wands, Ace of Cups - Erotic Fantasy Tarot):

Being blindfolded by you is an act of utter trust on Hyunjin’s side. He puts his entire being into your hands, trusting you that you will handle him gently. Hyunjin expresses his love and devotion in letting you take control. He’s vulnerable only for you and you have to keep in mind that if you break that trust, it’s forever and can’t be mended. There’s a sin hinted in the cards which might suggest that for Hyunjin, being blindfolded by his lover is in a way a sinful, yet pleasurable experience. It might allow him to drop any restraints he might have, speak freely, ask you to do things he would never spell out without the blindfold. With the ace of cups, he might actually love to blindly go down on you and drink you up like a fountain of youth.

Handcuffed by you (3 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles, 4 of Pentacles - Tarot of Sexual Magic):

It looks like for Hyunjin, handcuffing him is exactly in his comfort zone. He likes to be at your service and in your mercy. The restriction of his hands allow him to better bask in your warmth, in anything you are willing to give him. He might truly become rather passive once you tie his hands (possibly ankles) up. He’s likely to lie back, relax and only encourage your plans further. Hyunjin wants to be (wo)manhandled with care and gentleness, though. He wants to feel you whole, your limbs entwined, skin to skin. He’s into all soft, though, so make sure to use non-harmful materials. Thick velvet yarn for knitting will do and it will also appeal to Hyunjin’s aesthetic taste as you can turn him into a sort of a beautiful tapestry tying him up shibari style with soft yarn. Be sure he will insist on you taking a picture of him being an art piece. Handcuffs allow Hyunjin to pull and feel the physical restraint instead of the mental boundaries. While he’s physically limited wearing the handcuffs, his fantasy and lust can be free of any prejudice or shame. It looks like Hyunjin has some internal issues with what’s considered acceptable and it causes friction in his life. He might enjoy submitting to someone as it somewhat frees him of the responsibility. While he might be into some things, he feels guilty for those fantasies. However, if his mistress or master brings those up, he’s more than happy to participate.

Spanked by you (7 of Swords, King of Cups, 6 of Wands - Tarot of Casanova):

Once again there’s the motive of forbidden pleasure for Hyunjin. He’s likely to crave spanking once in a while but it has to be done secretly and only with a person he fully trusts. He needs to feel a deep emotional and spiritual connection with you first before he consents to a physical punishment. It’s not likely for him to act up, though, you might need to somewhat invent the misbehaviour as he’s not really bratty. The swords could indicate Hyunjin becoming quite vocal during spanking, be it moaning, begging or even encouraging you. Again, I suggest a lighter touch here as Hyunjin’s pain threshold isn’t high and he’s more of a gentle soul. He might actually prefer a little warm up before the spanking; stroking his thighs, massaging his back, kneading his but. Hyunjin is more likely to enjoy the touch of your hand rather than being spanked with a tool.

Hyunjin (Stray Kids) - Dom

Blindfolds you (Queen of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, XVI The Tower - Erotic Fantasy Tarot):

For Hyunjin, sex is all about appreciating beauty and the mutual bond. He might want to blindfold you not only with a regular blindfold but with a beautiful silken scarf. He’s likely to turn you into an artistic masterpiece. Hyunjin is a gentle and caring lover. He’s not trying to gain power over you by taking one of your senses away, he’s merely guiding you towards empowerment of your other senses. Hyunjin is likely to treat you with kindness even and especially when you are at his mercy. He’s likely to actually ask you what it is you want him to do. While he has no problem doing whatever feels comfortable for you, he’s not that much of a dom to actually decide himself. He’s not the type to surprise and shock you, he always suggests or simply asks about your preferences. His own taste knows no limits as he’s simply in love with you and you are the very epitome of beauty for him, the deity he worships. If you ask him to blindfold you but then just hold you in his arms, he will do so with pleasure.

Handcuffs you (III The Empress, Page of Pentacles, 3 of Cups - Tarot of Sexual Magic):

Once again, it’s more likely to be you, who suggests to Hyunjin to handcuff you. He’s not much likely to pitch the idea himself. He might imagine it frequently but he’s not the type to share, unless you open the topic. And again, Hyunjin is likely to be super gentle and soft when it comes to handcuffing you. Don’t expect him to put metal or hard plastic handcuffs, those could harm the wrists of your which he worships so dearly. He’s likely to use the plush handcuffs or to tie your wrists with a silken or satin scarf. Hyunjin is not likely to spend much time with it either. Hyunjin likes the soft materials as we have mentioned and he will be more than happy to tie you up with colourful velvet yarns. He’s not a full shibari enthusiast, though he might copy the patterns with softer material; he will use as little material to restrain you as possible. You might actually struggle more to stop yourself from tearing the ties than with freeing yourself. And again, Hyunjin will keep asking and approach this as a teamwork. Nothing happens without your consent. His ideas might even be a little conservative at the beginning and you might need to help him open up about the more daring fantasies. On the other hand, he might actually want to take pictures of you in the vulnerable position and make paintings later on just to depict you as a real art piece. Don’t be surprised if Hyunjin has a secret locked up gallery of paintings depicting his exes in erotic poses.

Spanks you (XIV Temperance, 2 of Swords, 8 of Pentacles - Tarot of Casanova):

Hyunjin might actually be pretty hesitant when it comes to spanking you. He’s surely not the one to come up with the idea. You might need to persuade him to go for it and even so he’s really gentle because he believes he’s supposed to pleasure you, not punish you. Nothing you can do is worth a punishment in his eyes. You might really need to convince him that the spanking is for your pleasure, too. It’s likely to be more of an enlightening experience, with Hyunjin starting off with nearly featherlike touches and you begging him to put some force into it. The cards suggest, Hyunjin is not a great fan of this one in particular. While he might enjoy you spanking him, he’s not really ready to actually return the favour as the fear of harming is greater than anything else. He’s likely to opt for massaging you, kissing your but cheeks and even fingering you to make it up for you.

I have done this same type of tarot reading for Bang Chan already and it can be purchased on my ko-fi shop.

You can have a sneak peek of the cards here.

And yes, the plan is to do the readings for all of the members. Hyunjin's reading is here for free but the rest will follow the Bang Chan's example and they will be available in my shop.

Do you feel uncomfortable reblogging my content and you don't have the funds to support me financially through ko-fi? You can still show you appreciate my works and Czech and Slovakian shelter dogs. Click on the link bellow and the button. It's free! You can click every day! Your clicks will transform into Brit dog food every month and go to doggies in need.

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#stray kids #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin smut #kpop #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #skz #skz imagines #kpop tarot #skz tarot #stray kids tarot #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin scenarios #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin scenarios #skz hyunjin imagines #skz hwang hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin stray kids smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin scenarios #oracle kleo

[corrodedcoughin]

Fantasy au where a group of travelers are escaping the kingdom of Hawkins. They hear of a hidden city - rumoured to keep all outcasts safe from the king of Hawkins’ tyrannical rule, under the protection of a guild of powerful mages and warriors.

They’re given a link, a super secret contact to meet in an inn the town over that will help them escape and find said city.

They come face to face, Strider in fellowship of the ring - style, with Eddie the Banished - gaze sharp and intimidating. They’ve heard the rumours- Hawkins runs rampant with stories of his alleged crimes - namely involving the missing crown prince. Every layman has their version, but it all chalks up to the same fallen Hero and great Villain story.

It’s clear that he is skeptical and very protective of who he brings with him into the city, but the owners of the inn - a gentle lady by the name of Joyce and her equally intimidating husband, Hopper, vouch for them.

It takes some time to get there, they don’t take a direct route to avoid ambushes and the like.

Eddie neither confirms nor denies the stories, in fact he stokes the flames and plays it up - they act as additional protection and armor, an air of “don’t fuck with us.”

Through the bravado and exaggerated stories, they start to learn bits and pieces about Eddie along the way - things that don’t add up. He wears lots of jewellery - he jingles like a cat with a bell when he struts - but one of the party points out that a lot of them look like protection charms, each handmade, possibly by children judging by the make.

He flirts like nobody’s business, but it never goes past that. They had to flee a tavern one time when Eddie blows up over a patron who couldn’t take a “no” a few times too many.

Among his jewellery, Eddie wears a lot of rings. Stacks of silver, gaudy and eccentric, though they spend enough time traveling together to start noticing the sole gold band on his left ring finger.

They do get ambushed once - but manage to fight it off mostly unscathed. Eddie plays it off as usual, but one of them notices him twisting said gold band, brow pinched at night when no one is looking.

He’s also surprisingly sweet - he’s always nice to the kids he encounters, always treats the waitstaff at taverns and shops with respect, he’s protective over the younger members of the travel party when they encounter someone particularly rowdy. They also notice how he picks up little things along the way - snack cakes, hand carved die. “Little gifts,” he tells one of them, with a lopsided grin.

Maybe Eddie the Banished isn’t the villain of this story after all.

When they reach the city - it’s relief - for once in their lives the air tastes like freedom. A bunch of people are there to welcome them and show them around, but mainly they’re there for Eddie. He’s nearly swallowed by a swarm of children, and catches his arms around a girl with mousey brown, shaggy hair (“Birdie” they hear him call her - they think she’s his betrothed for a hot second) before the small sea of people part, and the group of travelers still.

Because at the center of the crowd, though a few years older and in looser, more comfortable clothing than they’ve ever seen him in before, is Crown Prince Steve Harrington.

And before they can think to do anything, Eddie is dropping all of his weapons, bravado completely dropping, face blown open with relief. Then he’s running, and wrapping the other man so tightly in an embrace that they can’t tell which limb belongs to who. They watch them sway gently in the middle of the city square.

“I kept my promise. I came back to you,” they hear Eddie murmur with such reverence, foreheads touching, hands cupping the other man’s face with such gentleness -

And then they’re being ushered away towards the baths, “Birdie” talking a mile a minute about how they must be tired and how they should give the lovebirds a second.

And maybe the rumours and stories were wrong. Maybe it’s a story about freedom and love instead.

Anon…you don’t underSTAND I’ve been craving a fantasy book for so long and this is exactly what I NEED. please I am begging at your table for any scraps you care to share PLEASE 🙏

#I’m trying to be calm I really am I swear #I’m trying so hard not to keyboard smash my way through the day god I love fantasy Steddie #this is so warm and high adventure!!!! #the reveal at the end is so perfect I could live in this for DAYS #thank you for sending it to me! #if you decide to write more I’d love to read any kind of fleshed out version #but if this is everything then I’m delighted you graced my inbox with it because I am holding it close and never letting go #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ask #anon #thank you anon I’m sorry I have nothing to add but I don’t think you need me to add anything or probably wanted me to add anything #I’m here to just share your story and happily so

[capturecharlesau]

Hey I know we don’t talk much but aaa the urge ti send a ask is just killing me

sorry if it’s nonsense, it’s 3:30am at the start of writing this lol

your art is fucking amazing, I wish I could draw like you. It expresses the emotions wonderfully without feeling out of place in the darker moments. Art style wise, you’re like my idol. I just want to fucking nom on it and shake it

your story is beautiful, honestly one of my favorite THSC AUs. It conveys darker themes without feeling too disconnected from the original series. I mean, even I struggle to make my AU actually seem like a AU. I really like Terrence as well, even though he’s still a bad guy he stands out much more then the other evil Terrys I typically see

the character designs are super original, and they work nicely. Honestly I have a problem finding the differences between everyone’s designs for Charles and Reginald, but I can always easily spot you. Personally design wise, Terrence and Charles are my favorites

I thought I wouldn’t like Danny, but I really do. I feel bad for what I originally thought. I want to hug him goddamnit! He’s such a pretty guy, and he gets bonus points for being bigender since I basically never see rep for them sadly

your comic made me realize 1. how abusive I really was to my ex, and 2. how abusive others were to me. I don’t wanna go into details (since I don’t want to make you uncomfortable), but your comic really did help me

I can’t wait to see what you do next with the story! (and I’m sorry if I ever creeped you out)

@candikin Bro…. Im am so fucking HAPPY ON THIS ASK YOU GAVE ME! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I LOVE THESE TYPES OF ASKS!! IM YOUR IDOL!? OOH THANK YOU IM HAPPY YOU ACTUALLY LIKE MY STUFF!! :D

If there’s something I really LOVE it’s the way I do emotions!!! I LOVE MAKING FACES WITH THSC CHARACTERS AAAAAH!!! THANK YOU THE DARKER MOMENTS FEEL IN PLACE WITH THE EXPRESSIONS AAAH!!

Thank you for loving my story SO MUCH!! I try to relate THSC stuff to it as well so it doesn’t feel out of place! MSNENDJDJDMDN THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE AU!? IM SHAKING THANK YOU I POUR MY SOUL AND DARK FEELINGS INTO IT! THANK YOU! I’m so happy many people like my AU aaah!!

Ahhh yes Terrence Suave! When I saw that frame of him in ITA and after a few fanfics I saw him as pure evil! >:D The thing that makes my Terrence stand out is that my Terry is honestly a DEMON! He is literally pure evil and loves blood, pain, and seeing men, women, and children suffer a slow and painful death! Basically I portray him as satan himself from hell with his snake like behavior!

Terrence Suave a literal traumatic man who suffered abuse who then realized he has no purpose on the world other then to abuse Reginald and KILL AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD AND KILL THE HUMAN RACE as an all mighty snake demon!

The point is ….my Terrence is PURE evil! My Terrence is a pure black heart 🖤 filled with anger, sadness, and trauma!

AH THANK YOU! Coming up with the designs for the characters were easy after using my imagination a bit with some music! Aaaaah GLAD YA LIKE EM!!

AWWEEE MY REGINALD AND CHARLES STAND OUT!!!??? AAW THANK YOU! I think people can notice my character since my versions tend to look more anxious! Like this:

(Plus Reginald has his giant scar Terrence gave him!)

OH IM HAPPY YOU LIKE MY TERRENCE AND CHARLES DESIGNS!!! OOOH!

For Terry since he has his golden gun I always assumed his suit would be bright yellow and yellow glow-y eyes and a yellow dollar sign pin and a orange-yellowish tie! And of course…..blonde hair lol

Charles I always liked the white military outfit with a black tie hehe and I added some red eyes and some cute stickers on his headphones!

AWW HEHDJDKWBWHSJDHETHANK YOU FOR THINKING MY DANNY BOY IS A SWEET PRETTY GUY!! AAWW HE IS!! IT’S OK I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! BUT HE HAS HIS REASONS! AAAH IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE HIM NOW DANNY WILL GIVE YOU A SWEET PINK HEART!! 💕

Aahhh yes! He is bi-gender and I’m so happy I can help represent some people and help them feel more comfortable :3

No worries pal it’s all good! I know my comic is VERY dark with abuse and how it affects others in a bit of a dramatic way but you see what I mean!

I’m so happy your safe and you made that step to change! That immediately makes you WAY better then Terrence who decided to not listen!

Thank you so much for this ask OH MY GOSH IT MADE MY DAY THANK YOU! HUGS AND KISSES!

Give credit at @bluetorchsky and @jaytoons7 and @smoresthehalloweenqueen for helping me with making character development as weelllll 💕

#thsc #the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin collection #captured!charles au #danny felizima #terrence suave #reginald copperbottom #charles calvin

[moonstruckloverwritings]

Yandere! Five Hargreeves x Reader (general)

Authors note: character is aged up. He may be mentally older but he’s still in a child’s body. So I’m more talking about an au where he didn’t get lost in time and is 18+ at least. Also, basic TW: Yandere themes, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship.

This is definitely one of my more unhinged ones.

Has SCRICT rules. There is no leniency. There is no wiggle room for circumstances. You follow them or bad things happen. That’s it.

Is also in charge of everything. Everything you can think of.

He does the shores, he cooks, he lays out your clothes for in the morning, he brushes your hair, bathes you. Virtually every freedom you have has been taken away.

For example, if you’re at the stage where he can trust you enough that he can take you to town, he’s gonna put you in the passenger seat, adjust the seat to your comfort, and buckle your seat belt for you.

He’s in charge. And you should trust him with that. You should know that he knows everything about you and knows what’s best for you.

All the clothes, soaps, decor, colors etc is all in styles he knows you like. So when he picks out your clothes and helps you into them, they are clothes that you like.

Would not hesitate to off anyone if they were deemed even the slightest bit of a threat to you.

If they were too handsy, flirtations, rude, aggressive, etc. Hell, he’d probably off someone if they looked at you for too long while you’re in town. (Hence the song)

He might even off one of his siblings depending on who it was and how far it went. He’s more lenient with some siblings more than others.

He does love you but, even without the trauma of getting lost in time, we can see from scenes earlier than that, that he probably wouldn’t have been the kind of person that opened up easily.

Understanding and saying his feelings is his hardest challenge.

For example if one of his siblings was getting too close to you, he could physically feel the negative reactions he was dealing with as a result king before he could identify them.

“Am I angry? No there’s a bit of fear in there too.” “It happened when Diego was talking to them.. so that means..”

He’d grab your arm and in a huff pulls you back home immediately as he finds out that it was jealousy.

At times he gets aggravated that he feels those feelings. Even more aggravated when he can’t control them. Not being in control of everything scares him.

So while he loves you, he feels he has to control you and scenarios involving you. If he doesn’t know what will happen then it leaves room for bad things to happen. And he can’t risk that.

So he has a lot of traps outside. Many locks in the door. Lots of plans and back ups plans for if things go sideways.

On top of that, he’s planned out your entire day because he has to be prepared for everything.

And lastly, onto punishments.

I don’t see five being the kind of guy that’s going to put his hands on you in any hurtful way. Though he is violent, he never wanted to be. No matter what version of five there is, either his dad made him be that way or the commission. He’s never been able to escape that as far as we know right now. But even so, he doesn’t like hurting people. He’s never wanted to be that way. I think now though it is more of a defense mechanism than him being in the offensive side. Even if he doesn’t like it, he will still be violent if he needs to. He will still have those guards up and especially when it comes to you.

But as for punishments, he would take away things you enjoyed or lock you in a room and leave you until you’re begging for food or human contact and will let him have control again.

He need you to understand he does these things for you. You need to understand that he knows best.

Tiny bonus scenario! ⬇️

S/O: “Please let me out!”

Five: *continues humming while chopping vegetables up for dinner* They’ll come around to it in a couple days.. just give them some time.

#Spotify #headcanon #x reader #x y/n #x you #yandere #yande.re #obsessiveness #headcanons #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #fivehar

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group E Round 2: #E1 vs #E2

#E1: Dead people are revived with souls from the future. Hilarity and angst ensue.

#E2: Psychic girl is adopted by Yakuza. Hijinks ensue.

Details and poll under the cut!

#E1: Are You Ok (You Yao)

Summary:

People from the modern world transmigrating (Chinese version of isekai) into the ancient Chinese fantasy world has become a common and everyday occurrence that the royal court in the latter has decided to moderate them. If you’re a transmigrator, you must report your existence to Lou Zhu, the master of Best Tower. Once you pass his test and prove that you are indeed a modern person, you can then be assigned to work in different areas of the government and be given a high salary.

Because of this promised benefit, many impostors have showed up before Lou Zhu. And one day, Zuo Yunqi shows up for this test. Is he an impostor, or is he an actual modern person?

But some transmigrators also choose to hide their existence out of distrust in the government. Where are they? And with their advanced knowledge on science and technology, what are they planning in the dark?

Propaganda:

The setting is a genius mix of ancient and modern. Lou Zhu’s tower looks like an ancient Chinese building on the outside, but on the inside it’s like a hotel, complete with different entertainment venues and even a milk tea shop! And of course, what’s a hotel without an elevator? But since electricity isn’t invented yet, it’s just powered by different men (in fancy uniforms) on bicycles.

You’d expect that the locals would have some amount of horror, sadness, and grief over dead people coming back to life and moving and talking as if nothing has happened. Except there isn’t; at least, not much. They’ve gotten used to it. Life still has to go on, so why not enjoy it?

On one hand, You Yao shows us the transmigrators’ lives and how they cope in this unfamiliar world. Often in isekai/transmigration stories, the locals are portrayed as “backward” and “ignorant” to highlight the modern character’s supposed intelligence. But in You Yao, the two parties have an equal relationship. Transmigrators still have to follow the laws set by the Emperor, and their modern knowledge doesn't always prove to be useful. Unless they can invent novel things despite limited materials, their knowledge often fails to set them apart. I mean, what are you gonna do when you’re an art student whose only talent is drawing p*rn but people expect you to cook??? Or how about when you’re literate in Simplified Chinese but can’t read the locals’ Traditional Chinese text? Or what about when your soul ends up in the body of a mosquito instead???

Even with a high salary from the Emperor, being a transmigrator is not that easy. And as the show unfolds, we find that there’s more to them than comedic figures. 

On the other hand, You Yao is also about the locals and how they have to adapt to their fast-changing world. My favorite among them is Lin Kai. He has fully embraced the changes that he’s become akin to a transmigrator in his knowledge of the modern world. He’s not prominent in the novel, but the donghua treated him with a full musical sequence when he was about to confess to his crush 😂. As the only straight character, they probably had to highlight his love story to let the BL go under the radar—Oh, have I mentioned this show is a BL with several pairs?

Chinese censorship won’t allow the gay to be explicit, but they managed to still make it very fruity. The s1 ending song is literally about the second pair, Li Ke and Zhou Rongqi (aka Prince Yu).

Then there’s the animation style, which is a hybrid of 2D and 3D CGI. People not used to 3D anime may wince at this, but it’s actually common in China. You Yao’s style works quite well for it, too, giving it a distinctive flair.

To sum it up, You Yao is a compelling show that deconstructs the isekai/transmigration genre. If you’re after comedy with depth and an overarching plot, this is the show for you. There’s also some gay romantic angst sprinkled throughout, giving you lots of materials for fanfiction 😎

Trigger warnings: Guns, kidnapping, and imprisonment. Nothing too dark, though.

#E2: Hinamatsuri

Summary:

While reveling in the successful clinching of a prized vase for his collection, Yoshifumi Nitta, a yakuza member, is rudely interrupted when a large, peculiar capsule suddenly materializes and falls on his head. He opens the capsule to reveal a young, blue-haired girl, who doesn't divulge anything about herself but her name—Hina—and the fact that she possesses immense powers. As if things couldn't get any worse, she loses control and unleashes an explosion if her powers remain unused. Faced with no other choice, Nitta finds himself becoming her caregiver.

Propaganda 1:

Hinamatsuri is about…

Hina, who is a psychic metaphor for autism ala Mob but imo better. She’s not only a weirdgirl who’s friends are almost all other strange girls, but she’s also into stuff that is just so either unfitting for her age or she’s just really intense about.

Nitta, who deserves all the fangirls and husbando-ing that every other random guy in anime gets. He’s a bachelor who loves pottery and can cook so well that Hina convinces her friends they have a gourmet chef working for them. He’s also a yakuza and is beloved by the aniki for being incredibly tough and scary. (He is gentle as hell with Hina.)

A bunch of other weird girls (Admin: this part of the propaganda has been cut due to possible spoilers)

Propaganda 2:

Hinamatsuri is an absolutely hilarious anime with some of the best comic timing I’ve ever seen. It’s so funny, the various girls are such nonsense.

Hina starts as a violent blank slate and develops into a lazy greedy horrible little gremlin. Anzu starts as a prideful edgy rival but eventually becomes a wholesome overly grateful insecure mess. Hitomi is forced to become more and more competent, independent, and adult because she can't stand up for herself and say no to people asking her for favors.

Nitta is a fantastic viewpoint character because he outwardly takes so much in stride that it’s easy to forget how annoyed and stressed everything makes him until he snaps.

Trigger Warnings: There is child nudity, but only for a Terminator reference. There is some comedic child neglect and slapstick. There is a child who is homeless, but it’s treated very sensitively.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #donghua #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #group e #are you ok #are you okay #you yao #有药 #hinamatsuri