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mapileonxputellas · 6 months

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Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

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radioisntdead · 2 months

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Good evening folks! Happy to have you join us this fine evening!

I'm Ace and I write for the fandoms I like! At the moment it's just hazbin hotel and Stardew valley but many more may appear! Might do something with my OCs as well if some of y'all would like to see that? I may produce some fanart if I get around to it!

↓Rules for requesting, Master list and info below ↓

°°Hazbin hotel Masterlist°°

[NOT YET MADE] °°Stardew valley masterlist°°

I'll write:

Canon x reader

A lil' bit of Canon x Canon [Can be Platonic or romantic] [For example Hazbin hotel found family headcanons] [When requesting this make sure to specify!]

Headcanons

One shots

Angst, fluff and all that good stuff!

[Readers will typically be gender neutral unless specified otherwise]

[Hazbin hotel] I'll write for:

Alastor [Platonic or romantic] [He will be kept on the Aroace spectrum]

Angel dust [Platonic, if asked for romantic it'll be male reader only as he's canonically gay according to the wiki, for platonic though the reader can be anything]

Rosie [Platonic or romantic]

Husk [Platonic or romantic]

Charlie [Platonic]

Vaggie [Platonic]

Niffty [Platonic]

Susan [Platonic]

Sir Pentious [Platonic or romantic]

Vox [Platonic or romantic]

Velvette [Platonic or romantic]

Valentino [Neither Platonic or romantic I'll only write about him if you wanna beat him up, I DO NOT LIKE THIS MAN, We bully him on this blog]

Lute [Platonic or romantic]

Emily [Platonic]

[Stardew valley] I'll write for

Sebastian [Platonic or romantic]

Sam (Platonic or romantic]

Abigail [Platonic or romantic]

Alex [Platonic or romantic]

Haley [platonic or romantic]

Harvey [platonic or romantic]

Elliot [Platonic or romantic]

Penny [platonic or romantic]

Leah [Platonic or romantic]

Shane [platonic or romantic]

Maru [Platonic or romantic)

Robin [platonic]

Evelyn [Platonic]

George [Platonic]

Krobus [platonic]

The children [ Platonic, found family]

If you don't see a character you want me to write about on this list feel free to ask! I may have forgotten em' or I may make an exception to writing them! [This may not always be the case though! I retain the right to say no]

Things I won't write:

Smut, Most content involving Angel dust will more then likely have some suggestive bits because it's Angel dust, but other then that, I refuse to write smut, I can and will pull out the holy water.

Anything involving Valentino in a positive lighting, there is a good reason that man is in hell.

Clint in a romantic lighting, I'll write him a redemption arc but not much else.

And that's about it, If I need too I'll add more!

Brief guidelines for requesting:

Please be respectful, be as feral as you want but please treat me like a human being.

Please keep the cannibalistic requests somewhat sane, I'm not writing you getting eaten, the regenerating reader one doesn't count because the reader can regenerate immediately.

Respect boundaries if I have stated I will not write something do not push on it, thank you!

On Wednesday's we post angst!

Artwork of your version of the reader or any of my fics is ALWAYS WELCOME I LOVE SEEING IT! Along with any fanart of my OCs I WILL SHOW IT OFF TO MY FRIENDS LIKE A PROUD PARENT [with credit to you if course]

Also if anyone wonders what the little character I doodle sometimes when responding to asks it's my funky lil' Sona that is loosely Alastor inspired

Her mouth privileges gets revoked in doodles

.........

Thank you for joining us! We hope to see you again soon!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you

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sarahthebanished · 2 years

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Can’t Fight This Feeling Pt. 1

“For…me?” He asked.

“What?”

“You said… you said you wanted to look pretty for ME?”

You chewed at the inside of your lip. “Well, yea, Eddie!” You blurted out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of have a crush on you!” You felt bold now.

“ME?” Eddie asked again, his eyebrows furrowed and his face showing genuine confusion. “Yes, you absolute shithead! On you! I have a big fat fucking crush on YOU!”

***Eddie Munson x Female Reader • 18 plus • 5.5k words***

cursing, drug use, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, arguing and making up, eventual smut

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

This fic was inspired by the beautiful art work linked here. Please check her out and give her a follow.

Detention again. Third time this month. Never ending cycle for you, it seemed. Just couldn’t get it together, your smart mouth had been getting you in trouble since you learned to form sentences. Especially when annoying teachers asked you stupid questions. Sometimes, the punishment was worth the satisfaction of whatever comment you made to land yourself in this room.

After hours, the school was eerily quiet. You and a few others sat scattered in this room with Mr. Higgins behind the desk, feet propped up reading a magazine. He glanced over the top of the magazine every now and then to make sure all was well.

You shifted in your desk, doodling on your notebook paper, and glanced at the clock. 4:05. Only 10 more minutes and you’d be free, riding home on your bike to heat up some canned semblance of food and play Super Mario Bros all night. Your mom was working 12 hour night shifts at the hospital, and she had recently splurged for the gaming system as an apology for being gone all the time.

Movement out of the corner of your eye pulled your attention from the clock. A few seats in front of you, another detention regular and friend of yours, Eddie Munson was twisting his long and unruly hair into a messy ponytail on the back of his head. He had his nails painted black, fingers littered with heavy silver rings. You admired the tattoo on his arm, a cluster of bats flying across an implied sky. He was the freakiest of the freaks here at Hawkins High, a title which he seemed to be proud of most of the time. But as a freak yourself, you knew that it wasn’t always easy being different from most everyone around you.

Mr. Higgins stood up and announced he was going to the “little boys room” and cautioned all 5 of you in the room to behave as he stepped out into the hallway. Getting up from his desk almost as soon as the teacher was out of sight, Eddie slid into the desk next to you. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said with a smile on his face, laying one arm out across the desk and laying his head down on it, looking up at you with big, brown eyes. All charm, he was. “I can’t be tamed,” you joked back. His eyes sparkled at your response. “Hey, wanna smoke after we get outta here?” Eddie asked. “You can throw your bike in the back of my van, I’ll drive you home.”

He looked up at you again, still sprawled out across the desk like it was the world comfiest bed. His face was just so hopeful, like he was worried you wouldn’t say yes. But, looking at him, you thought…how could you say no? So you didn’t, nodding yes as you went back to your doodle.

“Mr. Munson,” warned Mr. Higgins as he walked back into the room, “Please get back to your assigned seat.” Eddie rolled his eyes and made a mocking face as he rose up and resumed his spot two desks ahead of yours. You glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes.

****

Moments after everyone was dismissed from the after hours punishment, you and Eddie were walking together towards the parking lot. This was familiar. In the year since you’d moved here, you’d become friends with Eddie, who seemed to have a habit of adopting the newbies and loners. Part of you knew that he did it because he wanted to keep anyone else from feeling like he did. Ostracized and alone. Eddie didn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones he did keep close he loved fiercely. You were not sure if he held you in the same regard he did Dustin or Gareth but you were happy regardless, to have him in your life at all. He was hard to get to know, which was surprising considering his crass behavior at school, at The Hideout where his band performed, in public, at home, everywhere actually. But once you spent several hours long smoke and hang out sessions in each other presence, and broke past the outer edges of Eddie Munson… underneath was a soft and gentle person who was lacking confidence after years of struggling under the backlash he got just from being himself.

His parents weren’t around, he had no siblings, his only family was his Uncle Wayne who, like your mom, worked long night shifts to pay the bills and keep them in the humble trailer the pair shared. You quickly learned that the acceptance and kindness Eddie showed to you (and others) was a reflection of what he was missing in his own life. He wouldn’t admit that, of course, but you didn’t need him too.

Eddie slammed the door shut on the back of his van after tossing your bike inside, and you parted ways to either side of the vehicle, reuniting as you both climbed into your respective seats. He cranked the old thing up, it roared to life and Eddie immediately pressed play on the stereo, Flag of Hate by Kreator bellowed out loudly and he immediately started bobbing his head and tapping his ring clad fingers on the steering wheel as he began to drive. You smiled softly, just enjoying his energy. The drive to your house was short and neither of you spoke, the first song fading into another that didn’t even get a chance to end before his van was parked in the drive way of your small house. Two bedroom, one bathroom, in an ok part of town. Not the best but better than trailer park Eddie called home.

He grabbed his faithful metal lunch box and hopped out of the drivers side, following behind you as you both approached the front door.

“You got any food?” Eddie inquired, before you had even turned your key in the lock. You chuckled and offered “I got spaghettios?” To which Eddie replied by smacking his open palm on his own thigh, as if it was the best news he had heard all day. “That’ll do!”

Inside you heated up two cans of them on the stove in the small kitchen as Eddie sat at the kitchen table and rolled you each a joint, rambling about his latest ideas for one of his campaigns with The Hellfire club.

“It’s called a Manticore,” he explained with excitement in his voice, “It’s got a fucking lion body, and a scorpion tale! So bad ass.” You nodded with approval, listening as you slowly stirred the pot. “That sounds…intense,” you said as you pulled two bowls from the cabinet.

“Oh, it is!” Eddie continued rambling, his mind so focused on his story that the paper sat in his right hand, open and halfway full of bud but still unrolled. His left hand was moving about dramatically, like an extension of his words. “Its got an armor class of 14 which isn’t that high but it has like, 70 hit points so it’s harder to beat.”

“You are very attractive when you’re passionate,” you admit as you serve up the canned dinner. Eddie suddenly got very quiet. “Uh oh,” you tease, “is that a blush I see on your cheeks, Munson?” He goes back to rolling the forgotten joint and grins, “Shut your mouth.”

You slide a bowl in front of him and sit down opposite. He brings the joint to his mouth, his tongue delicately drawing across the paper to moisten it slightly. As he runs it across his tongue, he looks up at you purposefully and the eye contact makes you feel warm all over. “Uh oh,” he says mockingly as he presses the final seal into the joint, “is that blush I see on your cheeks?” and he laughs at himself, like he is truly the funniest person alive, trading the joint in his hand for a spoon and shoveling in a bite of the food you served him.

Sitting at your table, the two of you alone in the house, eating dinner with Eddie, about to smoke and talk for hours. None of it was out of the usual, as it had quickly become something you guys did at least once a week. However, lately you’d noticed subtle changes in the dynamic between the two of you. Sitting closer on the couch, your thighs touching. Lingering looks at each other’s bodies when either of you were up and moving around. Both of you were always quick with words, but the flirting had been turned up exponentially over the last few weeks. You felt like you could tell that whatever feelings you were developing for Eddie, he was developing too. But you were unsure. Scared to make things uncomfortable, you had never taken it just over the line. Never made a move. Eddie hadn’t either, to be fair, and the last thing you wanted to do was cross a boundary and make things weird with….well, the only real friend you had at this point.

As both of you finished your food, Eddie scooped your bowl up and placed them both in the sink. “Such a gentleman,” you cooed sarcastically. “Can you wash em, too?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. No deal.”

In unison, you both picked up one of the joints Eddie had rolled and moved towards the front door. Outside in the haze of the dimming sky, you sat side by side on the small concrete slab in front of your door. Backs leaning against the door you had just come out of. You both let your legs stretch out in front of you, your feet lining up right next to his ankles. You wiggled your toes to draw his attention to the height difference. “Midget,” he teased, passing you the lighter from his pocket. You held the flame to the end of the joint, the paper crackling as you puffed to draw the heat into the herb inside. Eddie watched you take a big puff and hold it in as you handed the lighter off you to him, where he mirrored your actions.

You leaned your head back against the door, exhaling suddenly when the pressure in your chest became too much. Relaxation already creeping out from your core. “Shit, I love weed,” you said bluntly and Eddie cackled, choking on the hit he had drawn into his own lungs. “Jesus,” he said between coughs. “Marry me now.” You pushed your shoulder into his at the comment, but the words felt good to hear.

“You know, I never was a stoner until I met you. I mean, I’d smoked now and then, but you completely corrupted me.”

Eddie beamed at you, a toothless grin on his face as he took another hit. “I have that affect on people, it’s a talent of mine.”

Your eyes lingered on the profile of his face, hard and soft at the same time. Full lips and prominent nose. Slightly squared chin. Cheeks that wrinkled as he smiled. His eyes were big and bright, always looking like he was in wonder of the world around him. His face was expressive and you loved that. Never had to guess what he was thinking. Which is why now, as you studied him, you saw a slight frown and were unsure what could’ve caused it.

You took another hit and gauged the energy between the two of you. It felt like there was heat buzzing between your shoulder and his. As the sun set further, the evening breeze blew and made you shiver, though the early fall air was nowhere near cold. You wanted to say something, but not sure what, so you settled on, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yea?” He asked, plucking a loose piece of bud off his bottom lip and flicking it from his finger to the ground.

“Yea.” You assured. Didn’t feel the need to explain why.

“Me, too.” He replied after a moment. Didn’t feel the need to explain why, either.

You finished your smoking in silence, both of you just staring off at the darkening sky.

“I know it’s lame but I get a little scared being here by myself at night,” you admit. Eddie chuckled, “You?! You’re like, so not the type to be scared of the dark.”

“I am not scared of the dark.” You insisted. “I’m scared of what’s IN the dark. Potentially. Possibly.”

“Ok, that’s fair…” he trailed off. “I’ll protect you.” He insisted, place a large hand on your thigh. Your stoned mind immediately focused on it, staring down at the hand. He withdrew, apologizing, and you realized he probably thought your reaction was BAD because you were so stunned by the sudden contact. He’d never touched you anywhere other than a quick hug, your shoulder maybe. The hand on your thigh felt so personal.

You apologized back and tried to explain through your stumbling words than you hadn’t minded the touch, in fact you liked it, but you were awkward at this point and too high to make much sense so you trailed off without even making a solid argument.

“What I mean is….my mom is always gone at night and sometimes I get paranoid. Especially when I get high by myself. Focusing on every sound I hear, you know? The house isn’t big but it’s empty and I’ve watched….a lot of horror movies.”

“I get it,” Eddie said. You knew he did. He spent a lot of nights alone, too. “I could stay.” He offered suddenly. “You know, on the couch…”

You smiled at him before practically yelling, “SLUMBER PARTY!”

He laughed with his whole belly, “Will ya braid my hair?”

“Mmhmm, only if you paint my nails black like yours.”

At this comment, he held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, like he himself was noticing the polish for the first time. “You like it?” He asked, and you could just hear in his voice that he really needed to know, on a deep level, that you did.

“I definitely do,” you reassured him, reaching out to grab the hand closest to you and pulling it up in front of your own face. “I definitely, definitely do…” and suddenly, something in you prompted you to delicately place a kiss on the largest knuckle. A quick and tender display, Eddie was surprised by it. But he never moved his hand a centimeter, like he was hoping you’d do it again. Silence settled between you both again. This happened a lot. Two people who were known for their smart mouths, for some reason when you were together, there wasn’t always a need to speak.

“I got cotton mouth like a bitch,” he said with a dazed look on his face. You chuckled, dropping his hand and pushed yourself up off the concrete. Eddie followed, you both heading inside to get something to drink. Pouring glasses of ice cold black cherry Kool Aid, Eddie chugged his down quickly and slammed the cup down on the counter, signaling for a refill. He had stains on either side of his lips already from the dark red drink. “Have I mentioned that you have the dietary habits of a 12 year old?” He taunted. You stuck your tongue out at him before taking a long drink of your own, and he continued with, “but I do too, so that’s alright.”

“Can you imagine us in 10 years, almost 30 and still eating frozen waffles and dry cereal by the handful?” You giggled out. “I would eat dry cereal with you for the rest of my life, honestly,” Eddie said like the idea was truly the dream of a lifetime. “I’d eat dry cereal with you, too.”

Romantic and suave, weren’t you? The exchange felt like a confession of sorts. Awkward again, you glanced towards the living room and asked Eddie if he wanted to play your Nintendo. He agreed and you both spent the next few hours playing and dying and playing and dying on repeat. Talking shit to each other. Laughing. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes not at all. At half past nine, you started to yawn. Eddie took this as signal to leave and stood up, stretching his arms out to release the tension he’d developed from being hunched over on the couch.

His stomach peaked through the bottom of his shirt, a glance at his smooth skin and trail of hair made you stare even if you knew you should probably avert your gaze. “Well,” he said loudly, bringing his hands down placing them on his hips. “I guess I better get going.”

You frowned whole heartedly. “I thought you…were going to stay.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Oh shit, I didn’t know you were serious.”

“Oh.” You said softly, glancing down at your lap. “Ok, yea. It’s fine.” You stood up to help usher him to the front door.

“No,” he protested. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” he trailed off.

You stood there frozen, urging him with your eyes to finish his sentence.

“I just didn’t know if you were sincere about it.”

“Eddie, when have I ever not been sincere?” you asked him earnestly. “I’d probably sleep better than I have in weeks if you’re here to, ya know, be the first line of defense against things that go bump in the night.”

He laughed a little. “I see. So, I am the sacrifice. The distraction so you can make an escape?”

“Right, right. Glad we are on the same page.”

You headed off down the small hallway and came back toting a pillow and blanket, to see Eddie stripping himself of his shoes and taking his long chain wallet off and placing it on the coffee table.

“You can take off your pants,” you offered. He gasped and placed a hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion. “You think I’m that easy?”

Eyes rolling, you tossed the pillow onto the couch behind him. “No. You’re not easy at all.” You muttered, stopping next to him and looking up. You reached to the back of his head and hooked your finger under the hair tie that held his messy hair back in the ponytail he had fashioned hours ago in detention. Slowly you pulled it towards you, freeing his unruly mane. “Not good to sleep with your hair up,” you explained. “Causes breakage.”

Loosening the hair with his fingers, he shook his head. “Can have that, my hair is what draws the babes my way.” For the second time in a 60 second period you rolled your eyes. “Oh yea. Same with me.” You said, tossing your own hair side to side to match his energy.

He leaned forward then and delicately, just the way you had done to his knuckle, placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “Goodnight,” he whispered against you.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You whispered back and then you were gone, walking to your bedroom and turning lights off along the way.

You crawled into bed and melted there, so tired and heavy from the way the high had worn off. You felt safer than you had since God knows when, just knowing Eddie was in the living room. You drifted off quickly, thinking of the subtle romantic gestures that had taken place between the two of you tonight. A slow smile spread on your face and before you knew it, morning came. Sunlight pouring in your window woke you.

Eddie was gone. Blanket folded neatly and sitting on top of the pillow. You were sad in unexpected ways to see the couch empty. You settled in the spot where you assumed he had been, the pillow smelling like him. Oh man, you thought. This is….

Your thoughts trailed off. Afraid to finish the thought. Afraid to admit anything even to yourself.

****

“Morning, sunshine!” Eddie bellowed from behind you, making you jump slightly. You hadn’t seen him coming, face buried in your locker. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” you answered honestly. “Really good.”

“I know. Trick question. See, I went to wake you up and tell you I was leaving but you were literally snoring and drooling so…”

You turned RED at the thought of Eddie standing next to your bed watching you sleep. “I do NOT snore,” you insisted. “Uh, yea. You do.” He insisted right back.

“But it was like, not foghorn quality - don’t worry. It was like a cute baby bear.” He continued as you both walked down the hall towards first period.

“A baby bear?” You toyed with the idea, trying to decide if the mental image was embarrassing or endearing. “That weed knocked me on my ass. Plus, I knew I was safe. With you being there, and all.”

Eddie stood next to your desk as you sat down. He leaned over the desk, arms on either side, the weight of his own body causing his muscles to flex. “Would you like me to stay with you more often?”

You gulped. “FUCK YES”your brain screamed, but instead you just coyly smiled and said “Sure, wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

“Settled then, I’ll swing home and grab some clothes and meet you at your place later tonight. I’m gonna bring a surprise.”

And he was gone, the back of his blue jean vest and a giant DIO patch replacing his face in your line of sight as he made his way to his own desk. You had no earthly idea what he could mean by that. A surprise.

The day was long, longer than a school day usually felt. As you biked yourself the few miles home, you found yourself excited in a strange and new way about Eddie coming over. Your stomach felt heavy, jittery. You zoned out, on auto pilot as you peddled the street your house was one. “Get it together,” you told yourself.

Inside you washed up the few dishes from your spaghettio feast and tidied up a few bits and bobs. You went into your bedroom to change out of your school clothes, and decided on a pair of pajama shorts and matching tank top. Your mom had given you this set for your 18th birthday a couple months prior, and as you looked in the mirror at how the fabric hugged your curves, you were thanking her silently in your mind.

Suddenly you felt self conscious, looking at yourself in the mirror. You never looked at yourself too much. You weren’t overly concerned with appearance. You were pretty enough. But something about Eddie made you want to be prettier. You headed to your moms bedroom with determination, rifling through her makeup. Smearing some blush and running the mascara through your eyelashes. A little lipstick. Satisfied with the job you’d done, you walked through the house glancing at the clock. Eddie should show up soon.

As if in sync with your thoughts, you heard the rumble of his old van mixed with loud muffled music. The music stopped and you heard his door slam.

He knocked twice, and you pulled the door open. He had a big smile, which dropped when he saw you. “What’s, uh….what’s on your face?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” You said, instantly angry and embarrassed.

He held his hand up and gestured towards your face. “What’s all this?”

“It’s makeup, Eddie. Jesus Christ.” You moved to the side to let him in, feeling stupid.

“No, I, uh, I get that. Just weird to see you with it on.” He said the words like he was truly uncomfortable and it did NOT help.

“I just got bored waiting for you,” you explained falsely, “ya know, playing in my moms makeup.”

You both chuckled awkwardly as Eddie dropped his bag on the floor next to the couch and you shut the door behind him. You noticed he was holding something behind his back, and you welcomed the change of subject by inquiring as to what it was.

“It’s the surprise!” He said excitedly. From behind his back he pulled the biggest bong you’d ever seen in your life.

Your eyes widened, “Eddie, are you joking?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle it?”

“I absolutely do NOT think I can handle it!” You squeaked out. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He laughed and set the beast of a piece down on the coffee table. It was at least 3 feet tall. “I’ll be here to help,” he said as if his presence would somehow change things. “C’mon,” he sauntered towards you, arms out, “don’t be a chicken!” He folded his arms up against himself, and began BAWK BAWK BAWKING at you loudly.

“Oh my god,” you faked annoyance when really you wanted to tell him he was the most handsome chicken you’d ever seen, crossing your arms over your chest. It made your cleavage pop out over the top of the tank top and you noticed that Eddie noticed and he looked away quickly when he saw you catch on.

“I’m not a chicken, I just don’t want my mom to come home and find me dead on the floor because my lungs collapsed. How would you explain that?”

“I would most definitely grab your body and run.”

“What would you do with my corpse?”

“Bury you somewhere nice. Pretty. Under a tree.”

“I’d haunt your ass.”

“I hope so.”

Silence again. Silence which usually never bothered you felt tense today. Not in a bad way, in an exciting way. You wondered to yourself if he felt the same.

“Anyway, I brought some of my new supply. It’s really good. All over body high. Makes you feel heavy and couch locked. Your favorite!”

He was right. You loved body highs over head highs because of the intense relaxation it gave you. Noodles for arms and legs. Heavy eye lids. Slowed breathing. It was like being half asleep and half away. “Thoughtful.” You teased taking a seat on the couch.

“That’s me. Thoughtful.”

He joked, but he was. He was more thoughtful than he gave himself credit for.

You watched as he broke down the weed and packed a big bowl. Nervous and anxious for more than one reason. But excited to try it.

“You ready for this?”

He picked up the massive glass bong and brought it to rest between you both on the couch. It was intimidating, to say the least.

“Will you help me light it?” You asked, sitting upright with your legs crossed. “Course,” he assured and positioned the lighter at the ready.

“It’s gonna be a lot. Just keep pulling until I take the bowl out.” You nodded to indicate you understood him and positioned your lips inside the wide mouthpiece.

Eddie flicked the lighter, flame to weed and you began to inhale steadily. The long neck of the bong filled slowly with cloudy and thick smoke, your eyes widened as you watched, Eddie’s did too.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

You did. Pulling until your lungs couldn’t anymore. You tapped at his hand in desperation to make him stop and he did, yanking the stem and bowl out of the whole and releasing the suction. All at once, the giant cloud of smoke cleared from inside of the piece and rushed into your lungs. You inhaled and it was like fire. Burning. You immediately felt your eyes begin to water. “Hell yeah!” Eddie cheered with enthusiasm.

Within seconds you choked and coughed out a cloud of smoke bigger than anything you’d ever inhaled. You coughed so hard you thought you’d hack up an entire lung. Your chest was tight. Your throat was burning. Your vision literally blurred. Eddie leaned forward to pat you gruffly on the back, and you gasped out “Water – I need water.”

He jumped up and disappeared to the kitchen as you continued to choke, the smoke had completely stolen your oxygen. Sticking a cup of water in your face, you grabbed it and chugged for several seconds.

“I’m dying” you gasped out. Eddie was laughing at you, but not in a mocking way. “Damn, girl. I am impressed!” He bellowed out. You looked up at him through the haze filled room and he reached down with one of his rough hands and wiped the tears that were streaming down your cheek. “Messed up your make up though,” he said, showing you his thumb which had black mascara smeared on it.

“Oh god,” you groaned out, leaning back against the couch. “I’m dying.” You repeated.

“You’re not dying.”

“I am. I am dying.” You ran your hand over your face, pushing your hair out of your face. You still couldn’t breathe right and you felt hot all over.

“That was some of the….hottest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Eddie said, not taking his eyes off your heaving chest.

“Seriously?” You spat at him.

“What?,” he asked innocently.

“Don’t be shy now, Munson. Are you being serious?”

He bites his lower lip a little before saying “yea” and you immediately cracked up.

“What? What?!” He asks. “What’s so funny?”

“How in the hell,” you say through your laughter,” “can you possibly think me coughing to the point of tears and drool is hot?”

Eddie threw his hands up in defense. “I don’t know! It just is! Geez!” He was laughing, too now.

“I have smeared make up all over my face! I’m covered in sweat!” You started feeling yourself getting even more worked up than you already were.

“I look like shit and, and, and” you stuttered as a sudden wave of emotion came over you, “and all I wanted was to – to – god, fuck!” you swore as you felt your eyes well with tears.

Eddie immediately stopped laughing.

You hung your head down and hid it with your hands. You could NOT believe you were crying. What the fuck was in this weed?

“Hey, hey, hey” he called gently as he scooted over to you. He threw his arm around your shoulders and shook you a little. “What did I do? I’m sorry!” He apologized for no reason.

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled out through your hands.

“Talk to me.” Eddie encouraged.

“I just, I dunno….” You said lifting your face, eyes meeting his. “I just wanted to look pretty for you and you made fun of me and now I look like a sweaty prostitute!”

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “For…me?” He asked.

“What?”

“You said… you said you wanted to look pretty for ME?”

You chewed at the inside of your lip. “Well, yea!” You blurred out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of have a crush on you!” You felt bold now.

“ME?” Eddie asked again, his eyebrows furrowed and his face showing genuine confusion.

“Yes, you absolute shithead! On you! I have a big fat fucking crush on YOU! And I put on this make up and this tight ass tank top to show off my tits and got all nervous at the idea of you coming over and I’m a fucking idiot!” You continued yelling, getting up from the couch now to pace back and forth.

“I know it’s weird and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cross any lines. I just thought, fuck I don’t know what. I thought maybe you would feel the same! I’m so stupid!” You were pacing back and forth between the couch and the coffee table and Eddie was just staring at you with, for once in his life, a completely blank expression.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You whacked yourself with the base of your palm right on the forehead with each word. “Now I’ve probably completely ruined our friendship. You are the only friend I have to be honest, and things will be weird and GOD I just want to crawl in a hole!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist and yanked at you to try to stop you from pacing, but you wriggled free. “Just go, Eddie. Please. I’m so embarrassed.”

You stormed off to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you and flinging yourself onto the bed.

Burying your face in the blankets, you screamed into the mattress and kicked your feet. A tantrum. A true tantrum. Bringing your face up to get some air, you felt tears stinging your eyes again.

What was wrong with you? You’d never felt this way before. Frustrated and angry with yourself, but also sad. You cared for Eddie in a way that you hadn’t even realized until just now. The feelings had bubbled up so suddenly. You wished more than anything you could turn back time and take it all back. You had just made a total fool of yourself and there was no way to un-do it. The realization that you had, in one moment, killed your friendship AND ruined your chances at more, was almost too much to bear. You felt your heart breaking. It had to be breaking. This hurt more than anything else ever had.

You heard the sound of Eddie’s van crank up outside and your tears poured faster. You told him to leave, but halfway didn’t believe he would. The sound of the old vans motor faded and he was gone.

You were left alone in the silence. Only the sound of your own sniffles and the hum of the air conditioning keeping you company until your sadness exhausted you to the point of unconsciousness.

Authors Note: I do not give permission for my work to be copied and reposted on any platform, even with credit. If you’d like to share please reblog and/or use the original link.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #fan fiction #can’t fight this feeling #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #eddie x fem!reader #joseph quinn #can't fight this feeling

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halfmoth-halfman · 3 months

Text

i got an ask about advice for writing when you're discouraged, so i thought i'd make a post addressing some of the points because i think this is something that everyone has gone through and can relate to. most of this is just what's helped me/what i'd tell myself in the past, but if anyone has advice to add on please feel free! i hope this helps at least a little bit, anon!

"I’m not good at (dialogue/atmosphere/prose/etc)."

write it anyways! one of the best ways to build a skill is to keep doing it. even if you don't ever post it, or only share it with a few friends, or just read it to your pets, or whatever you choose to do, it's better to write something "badly" than to not write at all. or even asking for help on how to improve from other writers. i struggle a lot with atmosphere and scenery, and something that helped me a lot was talking to other writers whose fics i really enjoy and inspire me. i know it may seem intimidating, but there are plenty of writers on tumblr that would love to talk about how they compose their scenes, their dialogue, anything and everything if someone asks.

"I can’t make moodboards/headers/aesthetic posts."

the good news is, you don't have to! fics don't have to have anything other than the fic itself. i can't speak for everyone, but while aesthetics may get my attention, it's the person behind the blog that i stay for. if you want your blog or your fics to have a pretty aesthetic, it shouldn't be because you feel forced to but because you want to do it. if you don't find making moodboards or headers or aesthetic posts fun, then you don't have to do them. and if you want to, but don't know how, there are a ton of resources, links, and blogs dedicated to helping on tumblr.

"I’m not at (insert someone else)’s writing level."

and you might never be, and that's okay! every writer is different - they have different styles, write at different paces, perceive their skill differently. basing your progress on someone else's isn't going to help because you're not them. you have your own time, energy, ability, and ideas, you'll grow and improve at your own pace, just like they did. don't force yourself to try and follow the same timeline of someone else, and don't put yourself down because you're getting better - and you are getting better - at your own pace.

"I can’t find the motivation to write."

honestly same. i think it's a pretty universal experience to lose motivation for something you were excited about at one point. sometimes the vibes aren't it and the story doesn't want to story, but that's alright. it can be hard to stay motivated, and what gets someone inspired again is different everyone. i can't give advice for anything outside of what's helped me, but a few ways i've re-motivated myself to write something are: making a fic playlist, stepping away from the fic for a day or two, giving it to a friend to read, re-watching/reading the source material, doodling fic ideas, and skipping to a different part of the story.

"I can’t write fast enough."

unless it's for something like work where you have a fixed deadline, there is no "fast enough" in writing. don't let anyone tell you otherwise. when i first started writing, in the very early days of ao3 and tumblr, fic updates could takes months or even more than a year and that was fine! one of my favorite fics took a six year hiatus, and that didn't diminish any of the enjoyment i had when it came back. you are not a machine, you're a human being with needs outside of writing. it's always okay if you need to take a break, if there's a long wait between chapters, or if you want to stop a project altogether and come back to it six years later. if someone gives you grief because you can't write within their time-frame then they're not worth having as a reader - do not overwork yourself for the sake of finishing a fic.

"It’s hard to stick to one idea at a time."

then don't! write all the ideas. write every single one. working on a project and you have a drabble that you just keep thinking about? write it. you get a sudden idea for a one-shot in a different fandom? write it. woke up in the mood to start a new five-chapter fic? write it. you can start or stop writing about anything at any time. there is no rule that you have to stick to one idea and finish it before you can write anything else, don't make yourself stick to something if it's not what you want to write, and don't punish yourself if you need to take a break from your current project.

"Maybe I’m not made for writing on tumblr."

tumblr is a shitposting website that barely works at the best of times. half of my drafts get deleted every other week for no reason - there is no way to be "made for writing on tumblr"! but tumblr is huge, there's a bajillion communities on here that would be so excited to have another writer, and a ton that are solely dedicated to helping writers and providing different resources. i guarantee there is someone on this website that will love and adore your writing.

"The things I read are better than anything I can write/comparing myself to other writers."

i don't have the cake picture saved, but we all know the gist of it: the audience (generally) isn't going to care about how decorated your cake is compared to another, they're just happy to get two cakes. and that's really all it is. your fic might not be the same preferred flavor as the audience of other writers, but there is someone out there who's going to enjoy it. i won't tell you to just not compare yourself to others, i know that's not how it works, but what has helped me is changing the way i view other fics. instead of thinking "i wish i could write like this person", i look at like "this inspires me to improve my writing". and don't get me wrong, i still have moments of doubt about my writing compared to some of the people i read, i don't think that will ever really stop, but the best thing you can do is not let yourself give in to that feeling. try and stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. no one else can write the way you can. no one else can tell your stories the way you can. no one else has the same voice as you do. if everyone wrote the same way, everything would be boring. the heart of a fic is seeing the author's personality shine through it. if you see someone write a good fic, that doesn't mean yours won't be. you have to give yourself a chance even when you feel like your writing won't be as good as someone else's. you have to bake your cake anyway.

"How do I find joy in something I know I’ll never be good at?"

you won't. full stop. if you keep telling yourself you'll never be good at something, you'll never improve, there's no point in trying, then you'll never enjoy it. i know it's easier said than done, but you have to have some level of confidence in yourself and in your writing. not only will you not enjoy it, other people will see the lack of enjoyment, the "i wrote this and it sucks" comments, the self-degradation, and they won't enjoy it either - no one feels good about a fic the author clearly didn't want to write. and, if you try everything you possibly can and still can't find any joy in writing, then maybe writing isn't the hobby for you. and that's perfectly okay! i tried quilting and glassblowing several times before i realized i just didn't like it the same way i liked writing. you owe it to yourself to find something that's fun, that makes you smile, that you're excited to do. there's a million hobbies out there, i promise you'll find something that brings you joy.

#moth talks #writing advice #long post

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nnnyxie · 8 months

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IZU ANON IS BACK!! So I spent the day in Paris and saw SOOO many couples so I felt inspired (that’s a lie I’ve been lurking around your blog but felt weird requesting so much so close together and didn’t want to overwhelm you so I waited😞) anyways

Hc’s for Soulmate!Izu x Tatooed!Reader because I’m sickly inlove with soulmate au‘s

Especially writing that shows up on the others skin<3 The reader just drawing super ugly cats and doodles all the time- I feel like Izu would be the more artistic one and reader would suck at it but still do it all the time (this is more me telling you my hcs rather than requesting them from you but i literally can’t talk to anyone else about this please bear with me😭) and Izu would like draw SUPER realistic and detailed all might portraits or something and then reader like get’s a villain tattoo because they’re ✨different✨like that and Izu freaks out and somehow finds them through that??? This is like half a fic omg i just got carried away😭 feel free to ignore this I just absolutely went off I’m so sorry ily

izu anon…… your mind….. ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL.

i’m utterly in love with this idea.

i feel like the tattoos won’t transfer BUT!! the stencil that they USE for it does!! (ykwim?? the purple/blue ink they use??)

so one silly little day, he’s just relaxing yk. it’s his day off and he is using it to catch up on a show todoroki’s been raving about (which is unusual for todoroki so you KNOW it’s good!!)

our boy has his old ratty blue t-shirt and worn out grey nike shorts on. feet kicked up on his ottoman, his calves exposed. (do you see where i’m headed?)

now— imagine his surprise when he gets up and notices the purple/blue print of a villain on his right calf!!! (im thinking late 80’s)

he genuinely panics— like he’s seen these stencils before— a few were super badass honestly.

BUT A VILLAIN??? A VILLAIN???

he kind of feels sick because like— what if his soulmate is a villain?? (you’re not, you just like tattoos)

he immediately takes a picture of it!! he plans on looking for you— aka stalking every single tattoo artistry page and the people they tag in their posts, also their criminal data bases, and looking at everyone’s right calf when he goes on patrol.

he’s hoping that IF you’re a criminal/villain, he could help you to become— well, NOT that.

he also goes to bakugo about this and asks if he saw anyone get a tattoo of it recently (because bakugo definitely would get tattoos, i just know it. it’d be all skull and fire themes too) (plus he recently got one) bakugo just says, “the fuck? you think i know everyone with a tattoo? what kind of dumb thinking is that?” and poor poor izuku is panicking because he upset bakugo (he actually didn’t, bakugo was just taken aback by the picture) izuku apologizes profusely (bc that’s his thing) and bakugo go just tells him to stfu and that he MIGHT know who tattooed the image because he recognizes the style. sooooo he takes izuku to the parlor and introduces him to…….

YOU!!!!!!! yes, you tattooed yourself!!!!

you’re bakugo’s tattoo artist!!!

“dumbass, show me your right leg” bakugo yells in your small parlor, like an asshole. this makes you roll your eyes— you’re used to him, you’ve been tattooing him since you both were 19, which was when you finished your ‘tattoo training’. “keep talking to me like that and i’ll drop you from my cliental list,” you turn around after you finished sanitizing your station (bc all good artists do!!) “just show me your damn leg for the sake of this idiot,” he points towards izuku, that’s when everything goes in slow motion, and pro hero deku shines bright. he’s omitting a vibrant color and it’s nearly blinding (omg maybe your quirk is seeing/sensing auras)

(also, we’ll just say you’re wearing shorts for the sake of this)

you walk out from behind the barrier of the station and put your right leg on display. that’s when izuku chokes— it’s full of all the stencils he’s seen and… the villain tattoo. “fucking idiot, why would you tattoo a villain on you? you hate them,” bakugo slaps the side of your head, cause he’s an asshole. “cause it’s badass! plus it’s an old school villain, no one really knows ‘em.” you shrug and smack him back, narrowly avoiding his fresh tattoo (you wanted to hit it so bad) “anyways, why did you wanna know? and speak fast cause i have a client coming in twenty.” he forcefully takes izuku’s phone out of his hands, and shows it to you. “why am i looking at a blank screen? bakugo i don’t have time for this,” you push his hand back. “you didn’t let me unlock it,” izuku secretly rolls his eyes, you caught it though. he pulls up his gallery and shows a picture of his leg with your stencil on it.

your eyes narrow— not wanting to believe it cause like, you’re a small business owner and there’s no way a big time hero could be your soulmate. “yeah no, i have no time for bullshit. did someone send you this or something? trying to turn me in for a damn tattoo?” bakugo grumbles bc he’s ANNOYING (i love him) and grabs a pen. “draw something.” “you know i can’t with no reference. i’m shit without one.” “JUST DRAW! ON YOUR HAND! NOW!” “stop yelling all the damn time.” you grumbled and begrudgingly drew a horrible looking bunny. like— absolutely terrible !!! looking bunny onto your hand. bakugo, being the ass he is, RIPS off izuku’s glove and shoves his hand in your face. “bakugo. there’s nothing there. seriously you’re wasting my time, i need to set up. i don’t have time for jokes.” you go back to your station and start getting the ink ready. izuku rolls his eyes again— at his friend, not you. “that was the wrong hand,” he says in a slightly sassy tone, which was funny to hear from a pro hero. izuku takes his OTHER glove off and walks to you. “here,” he places his hand in front of you and you drop your tattooing gun.

“oh,” was all you said before walking into the back of your shop. you screamed a ‘what the fuck’ and walked right back out. “well, hi.” your smile is very awkward because like— how are you supposed to respond to that?? it’s not everyday that your soulmate ends up being a pro hero. “uhm… so can we meet after your uhm, next appointment?” he asks, very very shyly, it was like he was a high schooler all over again. you just give a head nod and write your personal number on the back of your business card. “uhm see you.”

months after that fateful day, you and izuku are officially together! he’s drawn you many designs for tattoos. (either for yourself or your clients)

now— izuku may be a very talented artist but when it comes to tattooing? absolutely not. he tried tattooing a small heart in between your fingers as a little practice thing and— let’s just say, it looks like a jacked star. (pls he felt so bad)

while it was a little ugly, you still loved it because he was the one to do it <3

OMG AND THE FIRST TIME YOU TATTOOED HIM— he tried not to cry. like— THIS MF USED TO BREAK HIS BONES DAILY!!! THIS MF FIGHTS BAD GUYS FOR A LIVING!!!! but it’s okay!! not everyone can handle getting a tattoo and that’s perfectly fine!!

ps most of his tattoos are all might hero based.

IZU ANON!!!!! i thoroughly enjoyed this <3

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #/ᐠ - ˕ -マ works — ♡︎#♡︎ — izuku anon

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rawrroarart · 2 years

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Hi everyone, semi-important update regarding this blog and why I don't post as often. I say semi because if you're just a casual looker of my blog, you can disregard this because nothing in my blog will change and I'll still be here.

But for the rest of you interested in reading more, I do have a lil potential treat at the end of this post, but it's a little long-winded to get to that point since I'm going to vent a little about my art. Though whether you read my ramble or not, you are free to claim the treat at the end (it's only a potential treat because it's based on if you even like it LOL). I'll be posting in the LWA tag, as I pretty much am a LWA blog, but I do apologize for clogging the place with something a bit unrelated, and this should be the last time I do it

Anyway if you're still reading let's get to it:

So obviously I've been dead in my blog and I hardly, if ever, post art. Now I guess it's normal to see something like this for blogs, as life gets in the way for most people and things just start to faze out. Circle of life or whatever. But truth to be told, I am still very much interested in drawing often, and as of late my life isn't even currently "in the way" that would prevent me from doing so. So why aren't I posting more frequently or even drawing at all if even on my own?

Drawing isn't fun.

That's really misleading, but let me clarify: I have too high of an expectation for myself, and with so many people watching, I get overwhelmed and even nauseous really about not churning out my absolute best All the Time. My situation obviously isn't unique or special or anything, and is of absolute no fault to you or anyone else following me. And I know, of course, no one is telling me to always churn out 100%, but it's the fear inside me to not disappoint even one of you, and I try to be a perfectionist and people-please all at once. Trying to draw like this isn't fun.

Aside from that, I also have huge issues regarding "spamming" people with my posts. This is a honestly stupid issue because no one is forced to follow me, and I know people are here because they want to be here, but I just can't help but feel bad when I post too frequently, especially combined with content that's subpar. Even this post alone I feel guilty about, since no one really "signed up" for a whole rant about inadequacy, but I figured it would be good for me especially for what treat I mentioned earlier.

These two issues together make up part of the whole sha-bang of my standstill. I get stressed if my content isn't up to standard and I get stressed if I post too often. So I just do nothing. And the more I do nothing the more stressed I get about having to be even better than the last time I've drawn, because it's obviously been so long that I must have improved on my own! (I haven't)

Anyway what does that bring us to? What is my attempt of a solution? Something obviously needs to happen to fix this, and I just want to have fun creating content again. So here's the "treat" that I mentioned earlier: I have a new art blog or should I say a doodle/scrap blog, and you are free to join me on my new journey.

How is this different from my current art blog, you ask? Well for one thing, it's going to be mainly for doodles, blurbs, anything I want really. The real kicker is that I also won't be tagging my posts (maybe occasionally if it's funny enough), so they shouldn't reach a bigger audience and spam the designated tags they would be in (like LWA). I can also more appropriately convince myself that, if you followed me, you especially are consenting to a bunch of posts (if I even post that much ha), and I'll also hold a soft spot for you LOL

You also don't have to follow me, as I'm sure a lot of my doodles will make their way to my art blog here, but in the form of one singular post labeled "doodle dump" or something. So no ones really "missing out" on anything. Following the new blog just gives you first access to whatevers going on with me

Note: I will still be posting art I put a lot of effort into on this blog!!

Of course this is all experimental, and it could all just go to shit, but I want to try to do something to get out of my slump. And before you ask "why can't you just draw without posting," it's because I thrive on validation also which is also why I get put in a standstill LOL. So yes please follow me if you'd like, I would be happy.

On another note, I'm also planning to purchase an ipad to actually have a better way of drawing, as my current digital art set up is really janky, laggy, and off-putting that it makes me not want to try either. But apple's art app looks so nice and seems perfect for me. I've set up my kofi to accept donations with a milestone if you wanted to lend a helping hand. It should be linked in my bio!

Anyway yea thanks for reading this far and supporting me. I'll do my best to keep producing content and improve my skills.

Tl;dr If you're here for the "treat," I have a new doodle blog but you consent to no thoughts head empty if you follow it. I'm also looking to buy an ipad sometime.

#lwa #i speak #yea long post but if you wanted to know next stages in my art learning process give it a read #lol i said i was gonna post in the lwa tag but i dont think it even shows up oh well #oh it did

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imaginatorofthings · 2 years

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Hello People Of The Internet! Welcome To My World. Allow Me To Show You Around.

Meet Me!

Hello! I'm ImaginatorOfThings, but you can call me:

Ima

Imagi

Imaginator

Mystic

I use they/she pronouns. I'm not a minor (I'm an adult!), so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me. I won't be offended.

Additionally! As I'm an adult, there may be suggestive jokes and/or content (nothing fully NSFW, as per my list below of who this blog isn't for), but I will tag accordingly!

Blog Navigation

This blog is mostly for rebloging whatever seems to capture my attention, as well as sharing my thoughts and creative works. I'll tag accordingly.

My writing: #Ima Writes

My art: #Ima Creates

My music: #Ima Tunes (also under #beepbox and #jummbox most of the time)

My thoughts and rambles: #Ima Rambles

My characters: #Ima's Characters

Completed Commissions: #Ima's Commissions

Where Else To Find Me

My Creative Blog: @imaginatorcreates (featuring writing, music, doodles, and whatever crafts I get up to!)

AO3 (all my writing!)

Ko-Fi (feel free to leave a lil' tip!)

Interested in what I do and want me write something for you? Want your own little tune to listen to? I have commissions open!

Other

Feel free to reblog my works and ideas with credit to me, but if you repost, I'll come after your kneecaps.

Help Me Save For My Nursing Education!

Characters Of Note (either with character sheets or search their tags):

Whynn Westwood (and their cousin, Zephyr Westwood!)

AT-1225

Akemi

Jazz

Carwyn

Interaction Guidelines

Who is this space for? Glad you asked!

Most anyone. I love seeing people post art — as I can't draw very well myself —and write about theories and things. Just please be respectful. If you take inspiration from me for whatever reason, please credit me!

Who is this space NOT for? If you identify as anyone below, or wish to discuss any of the topics below with me: Don't talk to me, don't interact with me, you will be blocked on sight.

Problematic groups (you know who you are)

Anti-vaxers

Homophobes, transphobes, etc.

NSFW (I don't need that on my blog)

Politics (I just don't find them interesting or enjoyable to talk about)

People who repost art and other creative works. Y'all are stealing the credit of the original creator, and unless you are given explicit permission, don't repost. This applies to my own works as well.

DISCLAIMER

The topics I write and/or reblog may not be for everyone. Please heed by the tags and warnings I post.

If I end up rebloging or referencing something incorrect or offensive, please let me know politely so I may correct my mistakes. I'm only human.

#welcome to my blog

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mclarenyaoi · 3 months

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Ooo! I have some fursona ideas if you want them! (Feel free to ignore if you don’t)

George is very Gray Heron vibes to me, tall and ~dramatic~. Yuki could be either a Japanese Dormouse or a Japanese Tit. Lewis I think could be a Lesser Kudu (and maybe he got his horns removed and it was a Really Big Deal)

hi anon!!! first of all, congratulations, you're my first ever anon ask on this blog! second of all, that previous thing is pretty much exactly why this is being answered a bit late ^^' i'm terribly sorry about that, i just really wanted to make my answer good!! thank you for giving me these ideas, i love them and i love you, whoever you are <3

this is gonna be a long post so my actual answer to this ask containing all the doodles and commentary will be under the cut. just like last time, all written notes will be transcribed in the alt text since my handwriting isn't particularly legible. apologies in advance for any spelling mistakes or accidental misinformation, i don't have the time or energy to give this post a proper proofread so if anyone finds any errors or needs clarification on anything, please let me know! anyways hope you all find this post enjoyable ^^

first up, grey heron george! i've never drawn a grey heron before, so this was quite fun if a bit complicated

i ended up settling for the mid-length neck in the "final" headshot, but now that i've had more time to think on it, i think i'd choose to draw him with a long neck, tho he'd get some serious cramps after every race. it'd also be funnier as well — herons are, as you said, tall and dramatic... but herons from the front? yeah. blimey indeed.

there's also the matter of how his helmet would fit, esp since you can't exactly go and shave off a man's mouth. i couldn't find a good solution for this; my best idea was that little confused drawing in the corner. it's not a terrific solution by a long shot, but i suppose that's just how it'll be until i (or someone else? this is an open invitation, tho do tag me) come(s) up with a solution

i didn't do a fullbody sketch for grey heron george, but if i did i'd have him stand next to someone for comparison. i guess the question with that is how much his neck would factor into his height since he's plenty tall as is. i did also want to do a dramatic drawing for george, but i was severely struggling to figure out a pose. maybe i'll do one in the future..

next up, yuki. anon, i LOVED these suggestions! i ended up drawing both suggested fursonas bc why not lol. (also, i did assume by "japanese tit" you meant aegithalos caudatus japonicus (called shimaenaga (シマエナガ) in japanese) the white-faced subspecies of the long-tailed bushtit only found in hokkaido, japan) and not parsus minor, since the shimaenaga definitely gives more yuki vibes)

(before i say anything i Just realized 2'58" makes no fucking sense so i need to correct this first — it should be 2'7" ! my bad yall)

i drew yuki as a tit before i drew him as a dormouse so i'll talk abt them in that order

obviously as a creature the shimaenaga is SO very yuki sdkjfh i mean just!! look at ittt!! the definition of borb (bird orb). ngl i was kinda hoping they'd have shrike-like tendencies just bc i love when little cute things kill with brutality, but nope! they're insectivores year-round. shimaenaga are polygynous and lay 7-10 eggs per brood, which is great bc they're vulnerable to cold temperatures and hokkaido has long winters. long-tailed tits typically have facial markings resembling big brows, but this subspecies loses those markings in adulthood, probably to better blend in with the snow. i think i was gonna draw hatchling yuki with big brows at some point, but didn't bc drawing babies is difficult and drawing babies as birds is even more difficult lmao. you might notice that i chose to go the beastars route with anthropomorphic animals and gave bird yuki humanoid limbs and no wings. why did i choose to do this? well. i am not great at drawing bird legs and i didn't feel like drawing them here

the japanese dormouse has an avg length of less than 8cm (3.15in) with a tail of 6cm (2.4in). they're omnivores, with a diet consisting of fruit, nuts, insects, spiders, bird eggs and nestlings, and small rodents—even other dormice, hence my little comment abt cannibalism. again, i like it when little cute things kill with brutality. i think this works better for yuki, who i personally see as being small but mighty, though it's not like it doesn't work to make him a particularly vulnerable animal. rise against the odds and all that

regardless of whichever animal you (widely encompassing) or i choose to draw yuki as, i find yuki as a small prey animal to be v interesting. both the shimaenaga and japanese dormouse are small and agile creatures, and fitting a small animal with yuki's personality is compelling to me (which is not to say i buy into the narrative of yuki being particularly explosive or having anger issues, bc i don't believe in nor stand for that lol). for the purpose of the narrative, i love you small but stubborn animals that can and will bite you!

before i move on please appreciate pierre and yuki in the corner, i am forever and always a citizen of yukierre nation

ok last and anything but least, lewis! i'll admit, anon, i was a bit confused at first why you specifically picked the lesser kudu for lewis, but after seeing a comparison of the greater and lesser kudus.. i get it. lesser kudus look cooler (more markings) and i enjoy that

so, pretty clear timeline here. a headshot of lewis in the present, what lewis would look like with horns (i spent. so long on this. completely on accident bc i wanted the horns to look good and then had to make the rest of it look like it matched asgjfkh), what lewis looked like in ~2007, lewis post-surgery (complete horn removal), and then a sketch of lewis smiling bc i like his smile \(^u^)/

(btw, while you're here, there are only ~100k lesser kudu left in the world due to over-hunting and habitat destruction, so. figure i could stand to add a link to the african wildlife foundation page on kudus, where you can find a donation button in the corner)

anon, what you said abt lewis' horn removal being a really big deal... ough it had me thinkinggg. i think the symbolism in permanently sawing off a part of yourself to fit a mold is sooo intriguing (tho not completely matching w/ lewis' story, i think as a general concept it fucks) and also represents the sacrifices needed to be part of motorsport, particularly from a young age. pecora would need to either cut off or greatly shorten the length of their cranial appendage in order to fit their head in a helmet — technically you could like, cut holes in your helmet, but then if you have a serious crash it'd probably be a near-certain fatality due to the bone and blood and nerves in there, in addition to the obvious danger of having a heavy bone object potentially crushing into your skull. there's only a few species of pecora where having a cranial appendage isn't a sexually dimorphic thing (eg caribou, reindeer, cattle, wildebeest) so having big horns is largely a sign of masculinity, hence why lewis initially kept as much of his horns as he could (there's probably some regulation for how large horns can be before they become a danger)

so with that being said, when lewis removes his horns entirely, it causes some uproar since he's effectively socially emasculating himself on purpose. there's definitely shitty articles written about it left and right, angrily bullshitting about how it's a sign that this is the end of masculine pecora (it's not) or that regulations have gone too far (no one made him do it) or that lewis is a bad role model (nope) or whatever the hell. lewis gives like One statement on it, smth abt how he did it for his own comfort and nothing else, how it doesn't emasculate him (bc it doesn't, anyone can do whatever well-informed decision forever and it can mean fuck all if you want it to mean fuck all, Truly who give a shit), and again more shitty articles quote it. etc etc usual circlejerk of illiterate media "journalism" continues until it dies down once something else happens. idk, smth like that, i didn't go to fucking school for math realistic furry-verse timeline creation

asdkjfh oh my god THANK YOU SO MUCH to anyone who's read this whole thing, please let me know your thoughts and opinions or if i made any errors. anon, i appreciate you immensely, i am so terribly sorry for the rambling but i hope you found this post interesting!

#asks #furmula one #<thats gonna be my tag for this from now on bc i Do plan on doing more w this...#huge shoutout to the literal one other post in this tag. there are about to be three! (going back & adding tag to 1st post)#this is the only time i'll make a post this long ever again yall i. good lord #i would love rqs for this btw u guys dont even understand how thrilled i am #gr63 #yt22 #lh44 #f1 fanart #my art

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cyberneticcelestia · 6 months

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pinned post

also acts as an faq of sorts

basic facts

main: @radspeon name: jo and/or yasha pronouns: he/him

art shit

things i mainly draw: ponies, humans, furries, anime people if i'm feeling miserable(/j), a very specific pokemon(shiny espeon), pixel art things i do not draw: porn(excluding artistic nudity), complex machinery(though i intend to get better at that eventually, love me some machines), real people(excluding jerma, i do not trust myself to get the likeness correct for anyone else), intense gore things to look out for in my art: artistic nudity, blood, f and d slurs, extremely bright colors(always tagged as 'eyestrain'), cringe(if something being 'cringe' actually bothers you i do not want you here anyway), suggestive stuff(but nothing downright pornographic), lack of image IDs(i am unsure of how to write them in a good way, feel free to add them yourself when reblogging), flashing gifs(always tagged as 'flashing' and/or 'flashing gif) commission status: FRIENDS ONLY pony gif requests: OPEN (please send them into my ask box, any generation is fine, pony gifs are free to use anywhere online or offline as long as they are credited back to me, don't use it to sell anything, and you send me a link to where you used it into my ask box) doodle requests: DEPENDS (i will only doodle your thing if i think its funny)

fandoms or whatever

my little pony(all generations except five but especially three and four), mob psycho 100, banana fish(don't expect to see much of that though), YASHA(1996), rc9gn(mildly), vampire hunter d(bloodlust and the novels, currently on book 2), furry, trigun(stampede and '98), the summer hikaru died, danny phantom(mildly), adventure time(have not watched fionna and cake yet), jerma985, black butler/kuroshitsuji(sorry), and other stuff but i cant be bothered to remember rn

main ships(not in any specific order)

mlp: twipie, rarijack, gildash, flutterlestia, mintypinkie(g3), lucora(luna and zecora), twiluna trigun: vashwood, millymeryl, vashmeryl(stampede only) mob psycho: reikubo, terumob, tomebomi, serirei banana fish: yuesing, asheiji, ibemax(mildly, i just rotate it around in my head sometimes), jessimax, dino x the meat grinder YASHA(1996): moichimayo, seichi, takerin, kenmei black butler: cielois, sebagrelle(mildly), madamgrelle(insane about this one) adventure time: man its just bubbline and simon and betty. what more do you want from me. fuck you, finnico as well. i dont care about canon anymore rc9gn: randulian(mildly) VHD: D x a therapist.

DNI

exlusionists, TERFs, proshippers, flutterdash shippers(nothing against yall as people i just don't like flutterdash for personal reasons), agere/petre blogs(nothing against you either, its just my blog is very not kidsafe and you probably do not want to interact with me), under fourteen, south park fans, pomegranate likers(/j)

tag list

click on the keep reading to see a list of my tags

non-character-specific categories

#yasha's art -- .... its for my art. what more could you expect. #yasha's ocs -- general umbrella tag for my ocs, almost always accompanied by a tag for the character specifically, but probably not for characters who do not have names #gurfs -- my funny way of saying 'gifs,' i do NOT use this spelling for warning tags like 'fast gif,' 'flashing gif,' or 'flickering gif.' that'd make me a fucking dickhead. #not art -- tag for. shit that isnt art #pixel art -- tag for my dabbles in pixel art

worlds

#world: kihverse -- short for "knife-in-hand universe," this tag is for my oc universe where there is a guy who always has a knife in his hand whether he wants there to be or not. its an extremely terrible superpower. #world: godly foals -- tag for my current mainline project, godly foals, a book about a found family who have to kill two gods. it has its own production diary blog, godlyfoals.tumblr.com #world: khristverse -- au for my oc Sezja where she's a vampire in a wildly historically inaccurate eighteen-eighties and has a very hot girlfriend, Rebecca, who she is loyal to #world: furryverse -- general tag for my furry ocs. #world: mimiverse -- world for my oc raik mimi, his siblings, his kids, and a bunch of other characters. the lore is too covuluted. #world: daigoroverse -- underdeveloped world that has one guy in it, daigoro, the old goddess of werewolves and wine. she's a snarky old bag and we love her.

i would write more for my individual ocs but. theres too many, so. L. maybe eventually ill get to it. bye

#pinned post #not art

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staticinmybrain · 1 year

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I like drawing. I like giving gifts.

I've spent hundreds of hours making gift art. Over a hundred pieces. I get species currency for it. I'm rewarded somehow. But I still wish I could receive a gift, sometimes.

One hour, three hours, ten hours, sixteen hours, on and on.

I usually receive nothing more than thank-you's and compliments. And because of gratitude for those compliments, I feel moved to make gift art for those who thank me. And so I sink more hours for nothing more than words. And practice, I guess. These are gifts, not trades, but I still wish. Some say they'll draw my characters back. They still haven't. I try not to keep my hopes up. These are gifts, not trades. I think they're happy to receive gifts. I'd be happy, certainly.

I don't know why I want praise so much. Why I'd value a little thank-you or compliment to the degree I'd keep this cycle going. I don't know why I expect so much. Maybe it's my environment. Maybe it's the culture I'm used to, being in a collectivist country. Maybe it's because I believe in the golden rule. As if that's a binding thing on anyone, really.

I have horrible luck in chains. A drawing chain stopped after I did my piece, so I'm not getting anything out of that, anymore, other than the currency I get from the piece I made for the person above me. Before that, the piece I did get in the chain was the bare minimum requirement. It's hard to not be a little bitter.

I still like drawing. That's why I can sink so much time into it so easily. If nothing else, it's practice. Practice is good.

I still like giving gifts. I'd like to receive gifts, even if that likely won't happen.

It happened a few times though. A few mass drawings with my characters in it. Other art fight things. Someone practicing a simple comm. Someone trying to get through all the characters in the group at least once. So gifts, not really for me specifically though, just for the sake of drawing my characters, to tick off a number on the list, or an obligation for the team.

All my actual gifts are from one person. A cute pencil sketch. A ticket. Interaction doodles. They make me want to cry a little, because they're so unexpected.

Everyone wants free art. Post open request and people flock to it. Reply to a request, and receive nothing ever.

It makes me tired and frustrated. Then I feel bad for feeling that way.

Look on the bright side. More practice for me. More currency to make characters that only I will ever draw.

Maybe I should only do trades from now on, but that won't feel the same. It's not really about the art. It's about people caring about my things and characters. I'd like a gift. Something with effort and care to balance out this give/receive ratio.

That's too much to ask though. It would be rude. It would be naggy.

"Hey, could you care please? A little? I don't need a surprise party, like those cartoon episodes where everyone hides from the mc and the mc gets sad until it's revealed at the end. It would be nice, but I know that's unrealistic. Could you just, do more than say thank you? Something more substantial than words, after it's been months? A little sketch? A dumb meme? Please?"

"Hey, I don't think you guys care enough. I think you're all horrible, greedy people who want to milk me for free mediocre art! I think I deserve to be a valued member, be special, because I do stuff that no one asked me too! Because my words and intentions don't match and I want you to be able to read my mind! So show you actually care! Feed my ego! You can do that at least, you lazy freeloaders!"

I don't want to be misinterpreted. I don't want to sound anything like the latter. Think I will, if I say something. Maybe I'm overthinking.

I'm grateful to that one person. I'm very grateful. But some other people would be nice. Anyone would think so, I think. I hope.

It's my fault too. My instinctual response is to tell people, "It's fine! You don't have to give me anything back!"

I mean it. I really really mean it. Because these are gifts, not trades. Because I keep gambling with hope even if I try not to. Because if they give me something anyway, it means they care to surprise me back.

I'd see a piece despite me saying it's unneccessary as a gift. Maybe they just see it as pushing an unwanted thing onto me? I'm not insulting their styles when I say, "you don't have to." Do they think I am? Because context variances? Culture clashes? I don't know.

I know this will probably keep going on though. Because I love the species, and that friend, and my characters, and the people who show interest, or thank me. So I'll keep making gifts with a vain hope of receiving them, and be elated whenever I receive anything from that friend or in a mass attack, and I just have to work on the gambling problem, I guess.

#vent #artvent #csvent #closed species vent #art vent

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chaos-burst · 3 years

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direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

#doriax #critfic #exu fic #critical role #dariax zaveon #dorian storm #exandria unlimited #exu #fanfiction #screeching into the void #text #this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk #we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys #dorian #dariax

349 notes · View notes

remmammie · 2 years

Note

Hcs with Sora when he finds out that G/N Reader has SEVERE depression?

*T/W: G/N Reader is also suicidal*

I’m sorry if this is too dark for you… 😬

CW/TW: Themes of (as stated) depression and suicidal thoughts. Please be careful and know your limits.

If you are in need of help regarding this subject, please do seek it.

International Association for Suicide Prevention

I worry about this subject not because I think it is taboo or because it scares me (I've dealt with my fair share of people living with such thoughts,) but because I fear I don't know enough to cover it accurately. I'm no expert and am having to rely on personal experiences and medically researched documentation to best help my writing, but this doesn't mean whatever I write is accurate. Symmie - my love (/p) - and anyone else dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts should access the level of help they feel comfortable with: if I can help with these small writings and offer some sense of stability and comfort with kind, truthful words, then feel free to read and talk. You're safe here, and always will be worthy of everything good in this world. Enjoy, my loves, I wish you all the best!

Sora Helping a Reader with Depression ( + Suicidal Thoughts)

Though not generally very observant, Sora is very in touch with people's emotions, especially that of his closest friends. He might notice you becoming more secluded, quieter, eating less, making self-deprecating jokes or comments. He's naturally a pretty optimistic guy that loves to boost the mood and confidence of his friends, but this increases tenfold when he sees how you act when things become a little too heavy on your heart.

He doesn't need to put a label to how he sees you feel, the label of "depression" is only important to him when it comes to research and understanding medically why you experience life the way you do. In other words, Sora would help you when feel down regardless of why this is the case.

Sometimes, he'll take a break from being all loud and rambunctious, always off on journeys and making new friends, to take you by the hand and sit down and just talk. He might ask about what's on your mind or what's the main reason you're reacting the way you are, but never pushes for any kind of answer if he can see you don't want to talk: he'll be there, though, sat in silence or talking to you without a reply or talking to himself depending on what makes you more comfortable.

Sora doesn't offer any advice unless you ask for it. He knows the feeling of being talked down to because you can't control how you feel, and that you're trying your best but just...physically can't do what someone tells you to. So, he waits for you to ask what you should do before he says anything more.

He really just wants to show that he cares, that you're incredibly valued to him as a friend, that whatever contradicting thoughts you might have about him "just being nice" are completely wrong.

He wants to help with a lot of things and definitely will if you ask him! He'll help cook healthy meals for you if you can't find the motivation to cook (all that experience at the Bistro has to work for something, right?), help clean your room if it gets overwhelmed, help clean the house, help do the shopping when you get anxious to leave the house, help you find the motivation to practice self-care in showering/bathing and treating yourself.

If you seek some kind of medication or therapy, Sora's sure to remind you despite his usual memory issues. He'll make these normally pretty "taboo" subjects fun! He'll be there to see you walk in and out of any talking sessions you might have and he likes to doodle on pill boxes for any antidepressants you might have, little doodles of you and him holding hands and hugging and watching the stars at the beach. If you live near each other or together, I think he'd also like to leave little post-it notes around where he knows you'll see them with Sora-esque motivational quotes, usually in the form of terrible puns and scribbles of cute animals and your mutual friends.

Of course, if you'd rather be left alone for some time, Sora understands and - though it's very hard for him - he'll take the time to step back and let you think things through by yourself. Still, if he can, he'll try his very hardest to keep contact with you, whether that be leaving messages on the Gummiphone for you about how proud he is of you for anything (eating, sleeping, waking up, etc.) or sliding notes and food under the door or through your mailbox just to show he cares no matter the distance between you both.

#kingdom hearts headcanons #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom hearts fanfic #sora x reader

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pen-observing · 3 years

Text

request: baker mc with barbatos. + how you came to know and bicker with the man that looks like love.

MASTERLIST

People find joy in doing the things that they love and, right now, your joy is waking up earlier to see the sun’s rays against the counter of the bakery. They’re so beautiful to bask in and so rewarding once you remember all that it took just to be able to come into such a place. It takes real work.

However, the sun’s rays on this particular morning touch something else. They shine upon a sleek black envelope that was placed right in the middle of your counter.

How did it get here? You’ve always locked your door out of responsibility. Surely nobody managed to break in or something similar? Everything looks in order and nothing is stolen. With this, there is simply no reason for you not to open the little ‘gift’ that was there. Right?

Being a famous baker meant that sometimes you did receive letters but never in such a manner or such a style. They were usually in pastel envelopes; written by little kids with lots of doodles, sprayed with some overwhelming floral scent. And, they were charming indeed but this was allure inside of mystery.

You sit down at the table close to the window and open the envelope carefully. Sometimes you think that anyone who works in your business and actually manages to succeed has to have some childlike innocence. When kids are the only ones writing you such letters it makes sense.

You lay the delicate piece of paper and start to read.

Allow this letter not to alarm you in the slightest. I have come to notice some others on your counter a few days ago and deemed this to be the best way to approach you with an inquiry. Please, read it completely before you make your final judgement. Do you happen to believe in the afterlife? Do you happen to be religious yourself? Even if the answer to these two questions is a resounding no (which I have no way of knowing, I assure you) - please consider this offer. You have been chosen as someone who can help create a bigger order amongst the three realms. We, my young Master in particular, believes in the power that can bring about a more harmonious coexistence. We have already had humans come to our domain but expansions have started because of that previous success. I hope this manages to assuage your initial feelings and any possible fear you might have. We are demons, I must say. I believe there is no use in lying or manipulating you because we are approaching you with a noble idea and goal that you can help come to fruition. We are inviting humans that are experts in their fields to teach us even more and you have been chosen as one of them. If you hold any interest, please proceed to sign your name at the bottom right of this paper. If, however, you are not interested or are afraid – please place it back inside the envelope and it will automatically become ash. Discard it carefully. I urge you not to get hurt.

Now you wish that this letter was full of doodles with a cupcake in the middle of the sun. Who was pulling such a prank? Was this a lousy attempt of the baker 2 streets down to intimidate you for the upcoming cake contest? You have to give him credit for his imagination at least.

Who does he think he is to challenge you? Did he assume you would be afraid? Perhaps, you always were a bit too spiteful for your own good. And with that spite growing – you signed your name at the bottom right.

No need for fire and ash. No need to be scared of anything that this foolish letter stated. Right?

“I would like to extend my outmost thanks for signing the letter.”

What? What was that voice? Fucking hell, how big is the joke the other baker is playing? You will be sure to leave him a 2 star review because only his cookies were decent but all you can do right now is turn around to the direction of the deep voice.

10 steps behind you, and next to your entrance door, stands a man that reminds you of the moon. He has perfect posture and an overwhelming presence. He holds a hand over his chest and looks at you with eyes that cause reminiscence – you always wanted to get lost in such a magical sea.

He is smiling at you but once he notices the shocked expression, he stops and raises one eyebrow. You’re both quiet. Well, this certainly is not that annoying baker. So, maybe, perhaps, possibly, in some way: the letter was not a joke?

“Please don’t tell me you did the same impulsive thing as the human that is a writer. Did you, by any chance, sign this letter thinking it was a joke?”

Obviously, you fucking did. I mean come on?? Three realms?? Demons?? Who would believe such a thing? Really, your spite got the best of you.

“You are not answering and I suppose that much is an answer in itself. Before you express a desire to cancel it out, I have to let you know; that is a legally binding contract and if you try to break it the punishment will be severe. When I say legally binding, I mean by the laws of hell itself. But, do not be alarmed. Please.”

The personification of the moon asks if sitting at the table would be okay and begins to explain to you all of the things in detail. He does it with clear words and you can’t help but believe that this idea seems promising. And this man, while cold and collected, does not seem like a threat.

Truthfully, you have achieved such a big success already. Baking is art and as an artist it was always the main goal. Learn more. Consider yourself a student as long as you live. Be sure to take any opportunity because it means growth. After all, you’ve gotten this far using those ideals. Wouldn’t it be a shame to throw them away now?

“And rest assured. You will be completely safe in the Devildom. I have been personally tasked with assuring your safety.”

You’ve come to learn that his name was Barbatos – meaning philosopher in some old book you’ve read. It is so odd that someone new seems so dependable. Because of this you ask him the question any sane person would.

“Would you like a cupcake?”

Yes, that indeed is the question any sane person would ask in your field. You already know there is no way to back out of this; not unless you wish to endanger your life. So, why not start an adventure if you already must?

You give Barbatos a cupcake and turn the sign to closed before going back behind the counter. The sign won’t change in the following year until you are free from the damned contract. You get overwhelmed with the realization that the sun’s rays will seep in but have nobody to actually greet once you leave. You realize how much you are going to miss this place. How are you supposed to leave it behind just like that?

You touch your pocket and take out your phone. If you must leave and abandon this, then so be it – but you will have some tangible memories of your dedication. You need to have some tangible memories of this glowing morning.

You start to take photos. Of what? The bowl of small chocolates that people can grab on the way out and bring to others that they love. The door decorated with flowers. The very counter you stand behind and the rays of light that are on it. The seating arrangement, the wall with your achievements, clippings from magazines, newspapers and reviews. Yes, you even take a photo of the child’s drawings with a cupcake inside of the sun. How ridiculous. And, oh, how much you’re going to miss this.

The very last photo you take is of Barbatos. He is sitting at the table, looking outside the window. Maybe you shouldn’t but – he looks like he belongs here for whatever reason. And, deep down, you wish to remember him like this. Inside of a peaceful moment. You press the click and he turns around. He doesn’t say anything – he offers a slight smile. In that moment you freeze and realize that in his peaceful moment the smile reminds you of childlike love.

Perhaps the following year will not be so bad after all.

“They call you the best in all of the three realms?” “Indeed.” “You put lemon-honey- syrup in your baklava. I refuse to believe you deserve it.”

Just because he reminds you of the moon and the deep waters; just because he gives you peace – it does not mean that professionally you will allow yourself to be inferior to him. Finding comfort with slight bickering became your idea of heaven and light in this place of darkness and hell-fire.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #barbatos #om! barbatos #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me barbatos #crack #kinda #fluff #also kinda #obey me headcanons #this started out as headcanons but i turned it into a fic cus #ya its barbatos come on #yall i cant cook or bake like i had no other way for this idea #should i write all my fics without caps letters it looks so pretty i know thats a trend #but like im an english major BIG AND SMALL LETTERS ARE IMPORTANT TO ME

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

All the time with you

Lily was avoiding him.

Which would be nothing new to James except they were dating for two weeks now and she was his girlfriend - she had said yes when he’d asked her, twice, so James was sure if that - and James had thought everything was fine between them.

It seemed like that when he’d meet her for breakfast - she had kissed him softly on the lips, her eyes closed a second longer when they broke apart as if she was still savouring that kiss and she had beamed at him. They had gone together to Potions class, but then, in the middle of class, when her potion was brewing, she had withdrawn suddenly, edgy on her spot, and she had briefly talked with Professor Slugnorn before vanishing her potion and abandoning class.

That was it. She had left with barely a wave to him, just telling him she would see him later.

But she wasn’t in the Common Room in their next free period and she hadn’t showed up for lunch either. None of her friends seemed to know where she was, which meant James had to resort to search for her in the Marauder’s Map.

‘That’s a little bit stalker, don’t you think?’, Sirius asked, his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. He always thought it was amusing when James freaked out about Lily as if he could see something James was blind to.

‘I am worried’, James said, very reasonable. Lily was missing - maybe something had happened, maybe she was in the Hospital Wing, maybe she had met someone who was far more interesting than James and…

Well, maybe he was overreacting a little.

But finding Lily was easy - her dot was still on her bed, alone.

On the one place James couldn’t get to her.

‘Oh, Merlin. This is bad’.

‘What is bad?’ Sirius asked, coming to sit on James’ bed and following James’ trembling finger on the Map. ‘She is in her dormitory’.

‘I can’t go there - don’t you see what that means? She is avoiding me’.

Sirius blinked, not impressed.

‘I think she is avoiding everyone, Prongs’.

It could be, but not everyone was her very concerned boyfriend.

‘Probably she was just tired and took advantage of Slug’s love for her to drop out of the class’.

‘That’s it, Lily loves Potions. She wouldn’t leave class unless there was a reason’.

‘Tired, like I said. Aren’t you two overworking to finish that Christmas event?’

James nodded, hoping there wasn’t any guilt showing up on his face. Sure, the Christmas event was one of the things the Heads had to organize, but he and Lily were taking way longer that it was needed just because they had been too entertained with each other in the past two weeks - it turned out that the Prefect’s Room was empty if all Prefects were out in patrol rounds and it turned that James and Lily were responsible for defining those rounds.

All in all, they were taking weeks to do something that they could have finished in two nights - but it provided them a nice excuse to all these moments together.

‘Yeah, maybe’.

‘Just relax, Prongs’.

He wished he could, but Lily didn’t show up for Charms either - another of her favourite classes - so, under his friends’ amused looks, he went to talk to Mary McDonald, asking if she could ask Lily to meet him.

‘Sure, James’, she said, giving him a funny look. ‘But I think she just wants to be alone’.

‘Do you know what’s wrong?’, he asked, biting his lips. Alone, Mary had said. Alone sounded bad.

‘Oh, it’s just - you know what? I will talk to her and we’ll see’.

That sounded ominous too. He nodded, quiet.

There was another free period that afternoon after Double Charms. They stayed in the Common Room, and James was supposedly finishing an essay, but his head kept turning to the stairs to the girl’s dormitories.

‘You are going to break your neck, Prongs’, Remus noted when James turned once more after hearing steps on the stairs, but it was just two Second Year girls that had come down.

‘I am fine’, he said stiffly.

‘No, you are not’, Sirius disagreed, reaching over to grab the parchment James had been writing on. ‘You got back to doodling “L.E”’.

‘It’s short for Law of Elvendork’, James said. ‘The theory that says every object can be turned into another as long as the elements are proportionally observed during the transformation’.

‘You are making this up’.

‘I am making this up’, James conceded, ignoring Sirius’ look. ‘I am just - I wish there was some way of going upstairs -’

‘I know’, Sirius said, a grimace on his face. That was the only thing they had never managed to accomplish in their seven years at Hogwarts. ‘Maybe we can restart that project - did we try the Confundus Charm on the stairs?’

‘Fourth year’, Peter answered him, without raising his eyes from his essay.

‘How about our animagus form? If -’

‘First thing we did on Fifth Year’.

‘Polyjuice Potion?’

‘We tried to brew on Third Year’, now Peter glanced at Sirius, shaking his head. ‘I looked like Anne MacMillan for three days!’

‘Oh, well, she was pretty’.

‘I had half her body. The left part of her body. I had to hide it for three days!’

James almost smiled at the memory.

‘Half of you was pretty then’, he said to Peter, who rolled his eyes. Then James sighed. ‘Well, I can’t finish this essay today, so I will - Lily!’

He raised immediately, a hand grabbing his own hair nervously as Lily came down the stairs. Her face was pale and she smiled at him when she saw him, but there was something restrained on her smile.

James thought she looked like she was really uncomfortable with something.

‘Hi, guys’, she said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. ‘Can I talk to you, James?’

When he nodded, quiet and still, she raised her eyebrows a little bit. ‘Alone, I meant’.

‘Oh, sure’, he said, looking around for a quiet place, but Lily surprised him going in the direction of the boy’s dormitory. He glanced around, finding his friends equally surprised, and followed her upstairs.

Lily didn’t turn to him until they reached the top of the tower. There, she looked around the room - James was grateful that the house-elves had cleaned up their mess, because the room looked decent - before turning to him.

She wasn’t smiling. That didn’t look good.

James felt something pressing his chest, putting all pieces together in a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish - Lily avoiding him, the grimace on her face, the way she was closing her eyes now and then as if to steel herself to do something and her request that they would talk alone, in a place no one could witness their break up -

‘Which one is your bed?’, she asked, stopping his reverie. James blinked, confused, and pointed to the nearest bed. Lily nodded. ‘Control your thoughts, okay?’, she said, sitting on his bed. ‘But lay here with me’.

There had been a considerable number of scenarios that James had imagined Lily on his bed, but on the verge of her breaking up with him was not one of them.

‘I think I prefer to stand up, Lily’, he said slowly.

‘We can’t do it with you like that’, Lily answered him as if it were obvious. ‘Just come here, please, James’.

He frowned, unsure, but he sat on the other side of his bed. Lily looked at him as if James was missing something very important, and when he didn’t move, she sighed.

‘Are you mad at me?’, she asked, sounding tired. ‘I am sorry I went away without -’

‘I thought you were mad with me!’, James interrupted her, shocked. She looked confused.

‘Why would I be mad at you?’

‘Because - yes? What else would you break up with me?’

‘Break up? Did you take that Essence of Insanity in class today?’

‘If you are not breaking up - why did you call me?’

‘Oh’, she blushed, the sweetest shade of pink colouring her face and James imagined he could feel the heat coming from her body. ‘I wanted to cuddle’.

‘... cuddle?’

‘Yeah, you know’, she put her legs on the bed and he saw she had taken out her shoes. Lily laid on the pillows next to him, her hand supporting her head. ‘Mary told me you were worried about me and I thought - instead of being miserable alone in bed, I could be here with you’.

‘You wanted to be miserable with me?’, he asked, but there was a shadow of a grin on his lips now. He took off his own shoes, lying in the bed too, and Lily nestled against his chest, closing her eyes.

‘It’s really hard to be miserable next to you’, she assured him, pressing herself more against him and inspiring heavily. ‘You smell so nice’.

With her lying so close to him, the scent of her shampoo so strong and intoxicating, James thought he could say the same about her.

But he just raised his hand to touch her hair, combing it softly, watching the strands of dark red hair. ‘Lily? Are you ok?’

‘I am, it’s just -’, she paused, unsure. ‘It’s cramps’.

‘Cramps?’, James repeated, confused, and then he opened his eyes. ‘Oooh’.

‘Yeah, sorry about oversharing’.

‘What? No, I - well, I want to know when you are not feeling well or - I mean - can I do anything to help?’

James tried to think of whatever he knew about female biology. His father had explained some things to him a few years ago and he understood the basics, but he hadn’t been paying attention very much if he was honest. Female body looked much more complicated than his.

‘You can keep hugging me’, she whispered and he pressed himself closer to her. 'Sorry about scaring you today. I just wanted to suffer alone'.

'Don't. I mean, I'd rather you don't suffer but - if you must - I am always available for some cuddling'.

She raised her head a little to place a kiss on his neck that gave him goosebumps all over his body.

'I will keep this is mind', she told him warmly. Then Lily sighed. ‘It’s been a while since I have this crisis… I usually take my potions the day before, but - well, I was a little bit distracted yesterday’.

She broke away just enough to wink at him and James suddenly remembered exactly what they had been doing last night on that empty Prefect’s Room - how he had pressed her against the door of the room, his mouth exploring her neck and any exposed skin there, how Lily had moaned softly and how that had driven him crazy -

‘James?’, she called him and he realized he must have drifted off in the memories, judging by how his body was reacting too quickly. He turned slightly, urging his mind to stop recollecting that moment. ‘Maybe now is not the moment?’, she added, a knowing smile on her lips.

‘Sorry’, he said, feeling his neck reddening. James forced himself to focus on the present. ‘I will help you remember next month’, he promised. ‘No distraction, Marauder’s honour’.

‘Maybe just a little distraction’, Lily said, winking at him again. He laughed softly, kissing her forehead, and she rested her head under his chin. ‘I will pay attention next month, don’t worry - I mean, you don’t need to know my cycle, James -’

‘Nonsense’, he said lightly. ‘I already know Remus’, what’s one more?’

She let out an amused laugh, the one that was James' favourite.

‘Well, wait until you experience my mood swings’.

‘PMS? Is that real?’

‘Very real’, she assured him. ‘I may need to hide again -’

‘I hope you don’t’, he whispered, massaging her neck now. ‘I meant it when I said I want to be there with you’.

‘I may get really stressed’, Lily warned him. ‘Like I may want to throw things - it’s better if you are not close’.

‘I have very good reflexes’.

‘Or I may get really sad and cry, and you’ll think it’s because of you, but it’s not’.

‘Then I will give you chocolate’, he promised. ‘Chocolate is the solution for everything’.

Another laugh; James smiled to himself, satisfied with her reaction. Discovering her reactions to him was really his favourite part of the last two weeks of dating her.

‘Well, you can’t go wrong with chocolate’, Lily agreed. ‘And this massage is really good too’.

‘Oh, I have magic fingers’, he teased. ‘I can show you’.

‘James…’

‘I meant a massage in the back, Lily’, he said innocently, and she chuckled once more, not believing him much. ‘Here’.

He sat more upright, helping Lily’s head on a pillow next to him, and started rubbing the base of her neck and then her shoulders, feeling the tension on her muscles and letting it guide him.

‘Hmmm’, she sighed. ‘That’s actually good’.

‘See? Magic fingers’. He kept rubbing her back, feeling her relaxing under his touch. He beamed - even after two weeks of them going out, there was still that disbelief in knowing Lily fancied him back and trusted him and wanted to be with him. ‘So, those mood swings - care to tell me beforehand?’

‘Oh, you’ll notice’, she said distractedly. ‘Two weeks from now probably’.

‘So - two weeks ago you were in one of them?’

‘I guess’.

‘Then our date and all that snogging later - just one mood change?’

‘Oh, it certainly changed my mood’, Lily said, turning her head in his direction and he was relieved to see her green eyes sparkling. ‘There were some hormones involved in kissing you, but I promise you none of them were fleeting’.

‘I’m glad to know’, he answered, grinning too. ‘Or else we would kiss just one week of the month’.

‘That would mean three miserable weeks’.

James laughed. Lily watched him, a smile on her lips that died when she closed her eyes, grimacing.

‘Are you in pain?’, he asked, worried.

‘It’ll pass, just some more minutes for the potion to take effect again’.

He laid down again, this time with her back for him, and Lily curled up against him. He put a hand under her head, careful to entwine his hands with hers.

‘You are so warm’, she whispered.

‘Is that bad?’

‘No, it’s good. I might nap though’.

‘You can - I’ll wake you up later for dinner’.

She sighed softly.

‘Thanks, James - I know this is not how you imagined us being in your bed’.

Her voice was heavier now with sleep, though he could hear her teasing. James let out a soft laugh, kissing the top of her head, and hugging her closer. Lily was quite warm for him too; there was something very cozy in being next to her like that, even if all they were doing was just cuddling together.

He thought of sharing nights with her where they would just do this - lay together, his arms around her, quiet and serene, and somehow those nights looked as appealing as the most creative nights he could dream of.

‘You are wrong, you know’, he whispered, but she didn’t move and James thought she had fallen asleep. ‘I want to be with you in every way’.

And he closed his eyes, letting her warmth and perfume lull him into a quiet sleep too.

#Jily #jily oneshot #James Potter being a nice boyfriend #Fluff #Lily wants a hug #James and Lily

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