#but at the same time it’s art and art is whatever y’know

[unnamed-royalty]

i wanted to try web weaving? idk if this is it? anyway i call it “family’s favorite monster”

[Taylor Swift, coney island (ft. The National)// Lorde, The Love Club// MGMT, Little Dark Age// MARINA, The Family Jewels// Mumford & Sons, Little Lion Man// Fall Out Boy, Young and Menace// Mitski, Francis Forever// Lorde, Writer in the Dark// Amanda Palmer, Runs in the Family// Taylor Swift, You’re on your own kid//]

#i feel like i did it wrong 😭 #but at the same time it’s art and art is whatever y’know #web weaving #taylor swift #marina and the diamonds #mumford and sons #lorde #fall out boy #mitski #amanda palmer #MGMT #young and menace #coney island #you’re on your own kid #little dark age #little lion man #writer in the dark #the fàmily jewels #francis forever #the love club #runs in the family

[idiopath-fic-smile]

i make no promises, like i genuinely don't have any real ideas for scenes after this one, but uh here is more Singin' in the Rain ot3, continuing from here. they're not even on the honeymoon boat yet! but for whatever it's worth, there are shenanigans.

Here was another thing Cosmo had failed to predict: Don was a nervous flier. 

Cosmo had been up in the air a handful of times; Archibald owned a small personal craft that he flew sometimes on the weekends. And sure, it was cold and noisy and there was no denying that watching the ground disappear below you could give a guy a bad case of the stomach lurches, but it was a thrill all the same. An adventure, he thought, burrowing deeper into the very warm wool coat he’d had the presence of mind to bring. Don was generally up for an adventure; he’d once ridden a motorcycle full speed off a high canyon and fallen ten stories into the water below, for nothing but a day’s wages and an approving nod from the director.

The airplane offered comfortable seats and tables and fashionable cold salads served by very calm stewardesses, but from the moment of liftoff, Don sat there like a man waiting for the electric chair. Now he was clutching the armrests so tightly, the knuckles stood out sharp and white against his normally very appealing hands. 

“We should have taken the train,” said Kathy.

“Nonsense,” Don gritted out. “I’m fine. This is all perfectly fine.”

Belted in on either side of him, Kathy and Cosmo exchanged a look. One of the benefits, thought Cosmo, to being the funny little friend and not the leading man was that you were allowed to admit when you were terrified, at least a little, at least if you could make it a joke.

“I’m so sorry, Don,” Kathy said. “I should have asked if you’ve been in one of these before. Even knowing we’re perfectly safe, a train would’ve been so much more comfortable.”

Don closed his eyes. “Really, Kathy,” he said, a little more sharply. “You don’t need to—” The plane dropped several feet, and he swallowed hard.

Cosmo considered the situation. The facts were these: Don Lockwood was too proud, and too enamored with his wife, to be willing to discuss such a weakness in front of her, and now if somebody didn’t act fast, the three of them were in for an awkward, unpleasant flight. Or rather, series of flights, since the plane was going to need to refuel a couple of times along the way.

There was nothing else for it; Cosmo would have to save the day.

He took in Don’s ashen complexion and Kathy’s guilty face, and then he said cheerfully,

“Y’know, Kathy, for what it’s worth, Don actually has been in one of these before.” When this failed to earn any real response from the man, Cosmo poked him in the cheek. “Haven’t you, Don?”

“What?” said Don distractedly, swatting the finger away. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

Don’s tense brow creased for a moment in irritation. “I think I’d remember—” he started.

“It was for one of those early stunting gigs,” said Cosmo. “A little biplane. They gave you goggles and an aviator hat and a brown leather jacket—” The incident stuck in Cosmo’s mind mostly because Don had looked very good in that jacket, but there were half a dozen reasons nobody needed to know that, “—and then they had you crash the plane through a barn.”

“Through a barn?” Kathy repeated, disbelieving, because apparently the fan magazines didn’t tell you everything after all.

“Into, not through,” said Don. “I didn’t come out the other side.” His fingers had relaxed ever so slightly on the poor armrests. “And that doesn’t count, that contraption never got off the ground, I only had to—”

“Into a barn?” Kathy interjected. “Why?”

Cosmo stuck a mock-pensive pose. “The things we do for art. And five dollars. And I think the producers let him keep the jacket.”

They had; Cosmo had suffered that autumn.

“Well, what about common sense,” said Kathy, “and human rights, and basic safety?”

“I said he had goggles on, didn’t I?” 

The truth was, back in those days, no matter how dangerous the feat, how seemingly impossible the stunt, Cosmo had never truly worried. It was Don, and Don could do anything. Except admit to his wife that he needed help, apparently.

“What about—about dignity,” she went on, and Cosmo snorted.

“I regret to inform you that Lady Dignity will not be making an appearance tonight.”

“Cosmo,” said Kathy, slowly, “Why in the world did you let Don do a thing like that?”

“Let?” Don and Cosmo said in unison, Don a little weakly but it was something.

“Don’t pin this on me, madam,” Cosmo added, “I am not my brother’s keeper.”

“Not my brother at all,” Don muttered, which stung a little, but Cosmo decided to let it slide in the face of how his plan was working.

“That’s hardly the worst thing we did for money,” Cosmo said instead. “Has Don told you much about our ignoble days on the road?”

Kathy shook her head, delighted. Don very discreetly kicked Cosmo in the shin. Things were looking up.

.

“So there we are,” said Cosmo, “performing in this tiny hamlet in Nebraska called, I kid you not, Oatmeal—”

“Oatmeal?” Kathy laughed.

Don had freed his fingers from the armrests entirely; he was now resting his entire face in his hands. He was no longer pallid as Nosferatu; in fact, he might have been blushing.

“It was Coyoteville,” Don volunteered without looking up.

“Pal, if you think I’d forget a place with a name like Oatmeal, Nebraska—”

“If you think I’d forget a place with a name like Coyoteville—”

“Coyoteville was in New Mexico!” said Cosmo. “Coyoteville was where we had to bunk with that ventriloquist, remember?” He watched as Don sat up and snuck a look at Kathy, who was clearly having a ball.

“The one who insisted his dummy got its own bed?” Don said with a slight smile.

“Don and me had to sleep on a twin mattress on the floor,” said Cosmo, “Curled up like a pair of puppies, if you can picture that—”

“I think so,” said Kathy, leaning forward, eyes bright, “only what happened in Oatmeal?”

“Wait, was Oatmeal where—” Don started.

“Yes! We’re about halfway through our routine, singing and hoofing our hearts out—fit as a fiddle and ready for love—when we look off to the side, at the next act waiting in the wings and we see—”

Don laughed. “You’re right, we were onstage when we realized it!”

“—at more or less the same time, I think—”

“Yes?” said Kathy.

“—the Amazing Dancing Daisy, the headliner following us—”

“Nobody had bothered to explain to us that she was a trained donkey,” Cosmo explained. “We were literally opening for an ass.”

“How was she?” Kathy managed, once she had more or less gotten her wild laughter under control. “The dancing, I mean?”

“Her footwork was a little sloppy,” said Don.

“Don’s just cross,” said Cosmo confidingly, “because she got much more applause than us.”

“They kept throwing her flowers!” said Don. “What was she meant to do with them? She didn’t even have hands!”

“So listen, Kathy.” Cosmo leaned way over Don to make eye contact with her. “The next time you two are having some sort of petty domestic squabble, if Don tries to act all high and mighty, just remember: I’m pretty sure your lawfully wedded husband is still, deep down, jealous of a donkey.”

Don grabbed Cosmo’s shoulder and flashed him a mock-scowl. “Why, when we get back on solid land…”

“I’m not afraid of you, villain,” said Cosmo, “not with your lady love here.” He stretched out an arm to Kathy. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“Of course, good sir,” said Kathy, genteelly taking his hand and it was a joke, it was ridiculous, it was all completely harmless because Cosmo was hardly a threat to their marriage, and so Cosmo ducked his head and fluttered his lashes at her, and cooed,

“How shall I ever repay you?”

And then, without breaking eye contact, Kathy brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it, just a quick, warm, press of lips, entirely chaste but somehow something different, and Cosmo darted a nervous glance at up Don—he was practically in Don’s lap at this point, to better reach out to Don’s wife—because threat or not, there had to be some kind of line Cosmo was crossing. But Don was just watching them, with parted lips and slightly glazed eyes, as if it was not at all upsetting to see his girl and his best friend doing…whatever it was they were doing, and this moment was rapidly sliding away from any point of reference Cosmo might’ve had. 

Normally, Cosmo liked other people’s eyes on him. That was half the reason anyone was in showbiz, wasn’t it? Nobody might’ve looked at him twice in the street but with the right props and a couple of dance moves, he could be somebody for the length of a number or two, spread a little joy and get a lot of it back. So it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Don looking at him and Kathy like that. It was just—it was too much, too close to something he might’ve dreamed up alone in his bed at night. He hadn’t, but that was mostly because he’d lacked the imagination.

Cosmo freed himself, twisted back upright, and coughed. “On second thought,” he said. “I think the ventriloquist was in Dead Man’s Fang, in Arizona? Coyoteville was where that strongman threw up inside Don’s fiddle.”

“How did he manage to—” Kathy sounded sincerely perplexed. She’d left a coral pink lip print on the back of Cosmo’s hand. He tugged his coat sleeves down to his fingertips.

“Sheer determination,” said Cosmo.

#to be clear all of the tiny town names they reference i got from pausing on the signs that flash up briefly in the movie #i WISH i was enough of an artist to invent the town of Oatmeal Nebraska #singin in the rain ot3

[itsabouttimex2]

Saccharine Snacks

Platonic Yandere Sun Wukong Drabble

Something feels different about today. Not necessarily wrong… just a little off. Just a few seconds after you wake up, the feeling sinks in. Nothing is inherently off-putting or uncomfortable, but that gnawing pang persists. The air feels strangely thick, like it’s trying to restrict your movement. The brightness of the sun that streams in from the window feels almost artificial.

But nothing is different. Everywhere you look, and everywhere you check… it’s all the exact same as it’s always been. It almost feels like a challenge, your brain racing to find the reason for this feeling, searching for the smallest difference, some minute variation in your room that would justify the strange feeling plaguing you. Predictably, you turn up nothing.

There’s no new additions, nothing taken away without your notice.

Maybe you really are just being paranoid. Maybe the air is just off. Maybe it was something as simple as a bad dream throwing you off. Whatever it it, you can’t quite shake the feeling. Not even as you get dressed, grab your staff, and head out to meet your mentor to get started with your training.

As always, he greets you with a cheeky smile, waving you into the kitchen.

“It’s not often that I see you in here,” you very casually point out. Once, it had been a little strange to speak so openly to someone so revered and powerful. But it had been by his own request that you spoke to him as an equal and friend rather than a mentor. There was no need to be so serious, after all.

“Except when we’re training. Then you really do need to take me seriously, bud,” he had told you. “Cause what I’m teaching can be just a smidge… dangerous, you know? Don’t worry, don’t worry! Nothing that’ll kill a little mortal like you, I swear!”

Even his reassurances can be goofy and heartening, with the way he acts. Just another thing you’d gotten used to. He gestures for you to come into the kitchen, waving you to the chair across from him.

“Well, I wanted to try and make something special today! I was in a kinda… ‘cooking mood’, y’know?” He looks up at you, holding a knife awkwardly as he unevenly slices cores cherries into disks.

“That doesn’t look like cooking to me,” you lightheartedly point out. “And your knifework could use some practice.”

“Yeah? So could your staff-work,” he teases back, dumping the segmented cherries into a large bowl. He grabs a handful of strawberries and moves them to his cutting board, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you, only half-focused on his task. “And what would you call it, huh? Baking? Broiling? Grilling? C’mon, bud-“

“Preparing,” you somewhat smugly interrupt. “I’d call it preparing a salad.”

He chuckles at your semi-confident tone before sliding you a cutting board and knife.

“If you’ve got time to sass me, then you’ve got time to help me, bud. Take two of those peaches from the sack over there and slice ‘em up.”

The fruit is soft and plump, fitting snugly in the palm of your hand. With two in tow, you return to the cutting board and slice them lengthways, splitting them in half and prying out the pits.

“Those are good peaches,” he explains unprompted. “Took me a while to get ‘em, actually. So I wanted to share with you.”

Sun Wukong is a good friend. He likes to dote on you when he gets the chance, and always works his hardest to keep you in good mood. He’s taught you a lot about martial arts, and never seems to get impatient with your progress, even when you find it nearly impossible to keep up with him.

Sun Wukong is a good friend.

So you trust him without hesitation when he snatches up a chunk of peach and lifts it to your lips- he shares his food with you all the time. This is nothing new for either of you.

The peach is soft all the way through, fuzzy pink skin unblemished by marks or spots. The white flesh is perfectly saccharine.

“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say with a smile.

Your friend doesn’t answer. He’s too busy smiling. It’ll take you a while to figure out why, but there’s no need to worry.

You’ve got all the time in the world, now.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Sun Wukong #Yandere Mentor

[wooahaes]

sturdy leaves

pairing: non-idol!dino x gn!reader

genre: fluff + established relationship au. reader (+ seungkwan) is an elementary school teacher.

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: reader is referred to as 'pretty' once (due to the look on their face).

daisy's notes: m... men... being loving........ collapses onto ground.

Chan sat on the ground with you, sitting on a blanket because the cold autumn ground was awful to sit on, and realized just how much he loved you. When you’d turned down his offer to go out this morning because you had work to do… He’d merely offered to come keep you company. He had listened to the soft hum you let out, phone pressed warmly against his ear, and waited. He waved away Seungkwan before he could tease him for the sappy expression on his face, and made his way toward the kitchen.

“I’m collecting leaves for my kids arts and crafts projects this week,” you’d said after a moment. “It’s not exactly fun work. It’s kinda cold out, too—”

“I’ll do it!”  He had said immediately, “I’ll come help you.” 

Seungkwan had muttered something about how whipped Chan was for you. Chan merely ignored him this time. Normally, it’d make him bicker: at least I’m dating someone! which would be met with at least I get to see them every day, because Seungkwan never let Chan live without knowing that the two of you wouldn’t have met without him. But Chan disappeared into his room, immediately bundling up. You’d told him to come to the park to find leaves with you, and he was there as fast as he could. 

He’d leaned against you a little, sorting through a pile of leaves you’d swept up together. Chan liked to watch how careful you were in picking out leaves for your elementary school students. He’d tried to be picky, too: nothing too small, or too limp, or too broken, or too… well, weak? The ones that were perfect for stepping on because they crumbled immediately with that beautiful crunch. They needed to be sturdy, and Chan had already broken a few while searching through. 

“So… What are you doing with them?”

“Making little ghosts,” you hummed. “We’ll paint them white together and draw on little faces.”

It sounded cute. “Is that all?”

You dropped another golden leaf into your bag. “Seungkwan’s making the owls for our class, too. And I think we’re going to have them trace leaves, too, for this watercolor art thing.” You paused after a moment. “You could come by after school and see.”

He smiled a little to himself. “Really?” 

“The kids are so creative, y’know,” you already had this fond, sweet smile on your face that Chan longed to kiss. There was always something so tender in your voice whenever you talked about your students. Sure, you had your complaints sometimes, but you (and Seungkwan: Chan saw that same spark in him, too) loved your job wholeheartedly. “I always like doing crafts with them,” you said. “We get to teach them about the seasons and leaves changing… and create some cute things for the classroom, too.”

Sometimes… Chan wished that he was the one teaching alongside you. But honestly, he was glad you and Seungkwan had each other to fall back onto. Chan liked being outside of that world, always right there to give you an escape from all of it. He’d helped you grade multiple choice tests and quizzes before, always happy to press a sticker onto them whenever applicable. Hell, he liked buying you more stickers to use on your students’ work. There was something so endearing about how happy you’d get, always thrilled to see that he’d been thinking about you. But he was glad to exist outside of the world itself, happy to talk to you about whatever project was going on at his own work—you’d always said you liked hearing about other adult problems after spending so many hours with kids and your fellow teachers. 

“I’d love to,” Chan said after a moment. “I like seeing what the kids make.”

“You don’t have to lie,” you teased. “You like seeing me.”

He chuckled, “I love seeing you. I like seeing the craft-things. There’s a difference.”

You leaned in to steal a quick kiss. “I know,” you hummed. “I just like to hear you say it.” 

Only for you to pull away from him the moment you heard a kid’s voice yell out in recognition, one of your students having spotted you while out with her dad. She’s already taken off running toward you, and you rose to greet her. The man immediately grew flustered as he scooped her into his arms, promptly apologizing to you—she was excitable, and there was something else about how you were one of her favorite teachers ever.

Chan just smiled to himself as he watched you crouch down a little, talking politely to your student while showing her one of the leaves you’d collected. “Isn’t it pretty?”Yeah. That kind look on your face was pretty. And Chan would sneak a picture of it whenever he could, just so he could commit it entirely to memory.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dino x you #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines #wooahaes.fall23

[wedontdeservethestars]

Johnny x fem! Clown reader

This is such a cute prompt idea! I've been doodling clowns a lot lately in class so this is strangely relevant to my life rn lol.

Content: fem!reader, really just a lot of fluff!

“I was thinking,” Johnny began. 

“That’s never good.” 

A roll of the eyes, a nudge of your shoulder. “C’mon. This one’s good.”

“Fine. I guess I can humor you for once…”

Johnny stuck his tongue out at you. He swirled his drink in his glass–a White Russian. “The execs are thinking of a soft reboot for Ninja Mime. And, well, y’know…I know you’re not big on film work, but I was thinkin’a bringing up the idea of a team-up sorta thing. Like, you know: me as Ninja Mime, and you as your cute little self. We could call it…” He raised his hands for dramatic effect, as if imagining a title all up in lights. “Fool Fighters.”

“Like ‘Foo Fighters’?” you giggled. “That might have some copyright issues.”

“Nahhh, I could pull some strings,” he smirked. “Okay, okay, imagine: it’s been years since the defeat of Dr. Commedia. Things have been quiet for Ninja Mime. He’s been relaxing in his penthouse in Paris, drinking wine and eating bread and kissin’ babes and whatever. And then, one day, he gets a cry for help from another fellow clown cutie–that’s you–and he falls head-over-heels in love with her. Dr. Commedia’s son, Art, is taking up his work, and is determined to spread his anti-laughing gas prototype all over the city, turning each and every citizen into a boring zombie of frowns! The clown girl found all this out because she’s Art’s sister and Commedia’s second child, but she wants to spread joy and laughter, so she takes her insider knowledge to Ninja Mime! And then it’s a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing between them, she wants to kiss, he wants to punch, neither of them can be together, and then at the end after Art is defeated, they finally share a gorgeous kiss in front of a sunset. Or, like, and explosion. Maybe both!”

“Oh, wow.” For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You were impressed with his depth of detail on the concept, but at the same time… “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” Johnny smiled. “It’ll be badass! Plus, it could put you into the spotlight. Give your career a push into the mainstream.” 

“I guess so.” You nodded and smiled, but your eyes betrayed how conflicted you felt.

“You’d be getting calls left and right!” Johnny chuckled, until he realized that you seemed torn. His smile fell into tight lips. “But…you don’t want that…?”

You sighed and leaned back on the couch. Dating Johnny was wonderful, but it was also a little strange for you. It was like a looking glass into what another realm of entertainment life was like. Actors got so much recognition and stardom (mostly rightfully so!), and other performers like dancers and singers were typically hailed similarly. But, as a clown, you were different. You were a performer, yes, and and actor too, but it was character work. Very specific character work. Between shows and occasional circus acts and private events, you were more disconnected from your work life than, say, Johnny was, who would get recognized just walking outside to get the mail. Hardly anyone recognized your clown character, and even less than that were you recognized beyond someone realizing they’d seen you in a commercial once from a side-gig you’d done. 

You kind of liked it. Clowning wasn’t about fame for you. It was about audience reactions. It was meant to bring joy and laughter and humility and even sometimes sadness to humanity. Clowning was a mirror. It was about laughing at yourself, a strange funhouse reflection of day-to-day life, and you loved it. You loved seeing people smile at your antics and connecting with them through your persona. You didn’t need the fame as long as you had that.

And while Johnny’s idea sounded fun, that fame made you hesitate. You didn’t want to be recognized just from a Ninja Mime reboot. That felt too unreal to you. That wasn’t clowning. It was acting in clown makeup. It felt strangely sacrilege.

“I think…I’d feel better about it if it wasn’t her,” you said slowly, referring to your clown-self.

“Really?” Johnny seemed confused. “I mean…yeah. Yeah, we could make you a new character if you wanted.”

“Yes,” you nodded. Johnny was still looking at you strangely.

“You don’t have to be in it, if you don’t want. I just thought it’d be fun. I don’t know.” He gave a flippant wave of his hand. “It’s—y’know what, never mind. It’s kinda stupid.”

“Hey, c’mon.” You pulled his large hand into yours. “I didn’t say any of that.”

“It’s okay,” he said again. Clearly, it wasn’t, but he was trying to put up a front. “I’m not gonna make you be in a movie against your will. That’s, like, cruel and unusual punishment or whatever.”

“I do,” you assured him. “I would love nothing more. It’s just that clowning is…it’s far different from acting. Same ocean, different island. I don’t think I would translate well onto the big screen.”

“Right,” he nodded. “So—“

“So,” you interrupted gently, “we do what you said. Make me a new character. She can still be a clown. Just not my clown.”

“Okay…” Slowly, that creative spark was coming back into his eyes. “Maybe she can be good at ranged weapons? Since Ninja Mime is mostly killer with the melee stuff.”

“Yeah!” You grinned. “She can have, like, little bombs shaped like juggling balls.”

“Oh, yeah! And maybe, like, a little flower on her top that sprays acid!”

You giggled at the thought, nodding along. “Fun! I like it.”

“And I was thinking—for costumes—we could do a cool contrast thingy, since Ninja Mime is all black and white and red, maybe you could have a rainbow motif or something. Or—no—cotton candy colors! You look really good in pinks and blues.”

“Aw, thanks.” You kissed his cheek. “But I think you’d say that no matter what the design team comes up with.”

“What can I say? You’re a cutie when you’re all dolled up in those ruffles and makeup.” He pinched your nose playfully. “Oh, and that round little nose.”

You giggled and batted his hands away. “Y’know, you don’t look so bad as a mime yourself. Always thought it gave you a sophisticated touch.”

“Oh, well, if the Cagester’s anything, it’s sophisticated,” he beamed proudly, kicking his feet up on the ottoman in front of the couch. 

“Uh-huh.” You decided to let him have that one. “Sooo…when exactly is Fool Fighters going into development?”

“See? Told you the name would grow on you!”

#wedontdeservethefics #asks #sweetnsaltyclussy #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat #mk

[snz-eriya]

A Strange Feeling (D/an H/eng snzfic, H/S/R, ft. C/aelus)

me: man I think I have writer's block again

also me: *writes nearly 2k words of horn*

anyway this is a valentine's post for @mochindayo !!!!!!! ur art is so good I wanna eat it and u deserve to have the best day ever every day!!! I hope you enjoy this fic I give as tribute to your amazingness :')

Caelus pressed on the button to open his door, wearily. It wasn’t like time was very clear if one were to look out the window, given that they were in space. Time itself was a little vague on the Astral Express. Nevertheless, he had been attempting to sleep for what felt like five years. Though to his exaggeratory mind, it was probably more like a few hours. But for some reason, his mind was running wild. No thought was consistent, only one random idea after another that captivated his attention and kept rest just out of arm’s reach. Eventually he got tired of trying, and decided to walk around the ship in hopes to tire out his body.

Or his mind, hopefully. Though it never really did seem to quiet down.

He walked past March’s room, and then Dan Heng’s. Just before he was about to turn the corner, he paused. He stepped backwards until he was in front of Dan Heng’s room again. Then back a few more steps to March’s. Then back to Dan Heng’s. 

He likely would have seemed to be a lunatic in someone else’s eyes. But there was a strange feeling that he got when he walked past specifically Dan Heng’s room. An indescribable feeling. An emotion? Something that made him uneasy. Whatever it was, it made him pause. He reached a hand out, to test if the door was unlocked. It probably would be. Dan Heng’s ‘room’ was the archive, after all. And as private as he was, he didn’t really mind if someone came in without permission as long as it was for a good reason. Was feeling weird a good reason? Probably not, but who knows? Maybe Dan Heng was dying, or attacked, or something. Probably not. Unless Dan Heng refused to be loud even when dying.

Opening up the door, Caelus was relieved to see that Dan Heng was not dying. Though he expected the other to at least be asleep or something at this time(?) of night(?). But no, his fellow Nameless was up and about, at the archives, sorting through various documents and books they had collected over their journeys. Which, that was good, it wasn’t like Caelus could be bothered to remember every detail of all those wordy papers (he could barely stand to read a few sentences without getting bored) but when everyone else had already gone to bed? He could have done it earlier and avoided spending time with everyone.

Caelus had a feeling just standing there and not saying anything for an extended period of time would not give him any avoidance for creepiness, so he decided to speak up.

“Dan Heng?”

The other jumped, as if surprised by his presence. Kind of strange. The doors weren’t exactly quiet. Not a big deal though. Maybe he was just focused.

“Caelus…” Dan Heng muttered, relaxing. Maybe he was expecting an enemy too. Or for Caelus to be dying instead. In any case, he turned back to his work. “Is there something you need?”

Caelus stood for a moment. Not really. For the weird feeling to go away? But how was he supposed to describe that? “Uh… no,” he eventually replied. Dan Heng looked back at him, an eyebrow raised at his answer.

Silence stretched between them once again.

Caelus really had to stop chasing every feeling that interested him.

“Uh… so… still working? Y’know everyone else is asleep,” he finally spoke up again, the awkward energy starting to get to him.

“I could say the same to you,” Dan Heng responded coolly. It seemed like he dropped trying to figure out what Caelus was doing there, and instead turned back to the archives once more.

Caelus still felt weird. So, ignoring his own note-to-self, he approached to stare at Dan Heng’s work over his shoulder. To be honest, his eyes were so tired that the words sort of jumbled together into an incoherent mess. It was more so just to get his crew mate’s attention.

And get his attention it did. Dan Heng glanced over, turning to face Caelus again. “If you don’t need anything, why are you still here? You should be sleeping.”

“Y’know I could just… say the same thing to you, right?” Caelus replied, trying to keep an exhaustedly smug grin off his face. “You’re archiving this late? I didn’t know there was still stuff left to archive.”

“There’s always things left. Please leave me be. I have work to do,” Dan Heng requested again. Though, like he had the mind of a child, it was like being told to stop doing something just made the trailblazer want to do it more. 

“I can help, if you want. I’m sure I can handle the, uh…” He picked up a random book, squinting at its title. “Underground Encyclopedia of Plants and Fungle.”

“Fungi. You’re not a child. You know how to read,” Dan Heng sighed in exasperation. Putting a hand to his head like the interaction was giving him a headache. 

“Meh, close enough. C’mon, it’ll get done faster if we do it together.”

“It’s fine.”

“Look, I know you like it all to be perfect, but there’s gotta be some kind of autocorrect in this thing, right?”

“Please, Caelus, just leave me be.” 

Dan Heng sounded desperate, which was strange. Typically Dan Heng would act annoyed but compliant, even more so when it came to March than him. But looking in the Nameless’ glassy eyes, it seemed like he was a few seconds away from begging.

Wait, glassy eyes? Oh, fuck. Was he actually dying? Was that his dying wish? His last words?

Caelus opened his mouth to apologize for making Dan Heng’s last moments so painful, when–

“heh’GKshu!” Dan Heng quickly turned away as soon as the sneeze rang through him. And suddenly Caelus realized that he wasn’t dying. In the traditional sense, anyway.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?” Dan Heng replied, turning back like nothing had happened at all.

“Uh, you’re sick?” Caelus stated, because it was obvious. After the evidence, anyway.

“I’m not,” Dan Heng immediately denied, turning his head away with arms crossed.

“Uh-huh.” Caelus’ eyes lidded disbelievingly, he had a small smirk on his face. “So why’re you still working, huh? To convince us that you’re not sick? Or to convince yourself? Because, just saying, I never would have seen you if I wasn’t already worried you were dying.”

Dan Heng scoffed. “Well, I’m definitely not dying.”

“You are sick, though.”

“heH’GXkshu!” 

Dan Heng faced Caelus again after turning away to sneeze, about to protest for a second time. Caelus managed to shut it down before it started again.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not sick, and the whole sneezing is just… a coincidence?” He waved his hand absently.

Dan Heng didn’t reply that time. His arguments had been effectively dismantled, and Caelus wasn’t stupid, just nonsensical most of the time.

He sighed, resting his head on an open palm, kept upright by the table. Caelus waited for a moment to see if anything more would be said, but he was met with silence. He took it as permission to carry out his plan.

He reached over and placed the back of his hand onto Dan Heng’s cheek, only to be met with his disapproving stare. “Wrong spot,” he muttered.

“Oh. Right,” Caelus recalled, moving his touch to the man’s forehead instead. He was met with a dry, hot temperature, something that he assumed was probably not good. 

He pulled back, hands on his hips. “Yeah, in my very professional opinion, you should be in bed. Not at a desk.”

“But–”

“Nuh-uh, doctor’s orders, unless you want me to get a literal doctor in here.”

“Caelus–”

“I will call Natasha!” Caelus pulled out his phone, just to make his point entirely clear.

That seemed to shake the last of Dan Heng’s resolve. His shoulders lowered like he had given up all remaining fight. “Fine.”

Caelus smiled, pleased with his victory. “Good. Now, c’mon.” He took Dan Heng’s hand and started dragging him up without another thought.

“Wh- huh? My bed’s right there,” Dan Heng looked down at his blanket and pillow cluelessly, then back up and Caelus as he continued to be pulled away.

“Yeah, that’s not really a sickbed. Or a bed. Or anything other than a poor man’s attempt,” the trailblazer replied. “You need a real bed. A Trailblazer-patented bed, at that.”

Dan Heng sighed. “You’re ridiculous. There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

“The only person on this ship more stubborn than you is me.”

That was fairly accurate.

As soon as they had left Dan Heng’s room, its owner soon crumpled down into another sneeze.

“heH’IGHkshu! hih’GXKshih! hh- heh… hih-”

“Stuck?” Caelus wondered, glancing back at his companion. His expression was pained, one eye closed and the other watering. He panted, desperately waiting for the urge to take over once again, but it remained out of reach.

“Here,” the trailblazer spoke, opening the door to his room as the lights flickered on all at once. He dragged Dan Heng along with him. The result was immediate.

“hEH’KGhshu! heH’GKshih! heH- hIH’XGkhuh! huh…”

Dan Heng sighed in relief as the fit finally came to an end. He looked about fifteen shades brighter red, though whether that was from the fever or the embarrassment was anyone’s guess. Caelus, for all the satisfaction being helpful gave him, wasn’t exactly willing to let Dan Heng suffer for his weak fulfillment. 

“Now, to bed with you.” He wrapped an arm around Dan Heng’s shoulders, practically carrying him the rest of the way to bed.

The other man had enough energy to cooperate by the time he was being lied down, allowing Caelus to tuck him in like a child despite his protests. He had to admit that it was comfier than his own room.

Caelus let out a breath, like he was exhausted from a workout. “Okay. Now, sleep.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow at him. “I can’t do that on command.”

“I’m pretty sure you can. You almost passed out as soon as we got in here.”

Had he? He must have been more tired than he thought.

“And where will you be sleeping? Sharing a bed with me wouldn’t be smart if I’m ill.”

“Yeah, ‘if,’” Caelus rolled his eyes. Then, he pointed his thumb down towards the ground. “The floor.”

Dan Heng stared for a moment. “...The floor.”

Caelus glanced to the side, then back to his companion. “...Why are you surprised? You do it.”

That couldn’t really be argued. For some reason it just felt inhumane when it came to his friend rather than him. Though that was something he could unpack another day.

“Try not to worry about it, Dan Heng. Maybe worry about yourself, for once. The rest of us are fine.” Caelus gave him a real, genuine and caring smile, before walking off towards what was probably a closet.

It was a bit hard to tell, his vision was starting to fade away, and unconsciousness was pulling at him. It was a little embarrassing to admit how relaxed he felt, in his friend’s room rather than his own.

But it gave him a feeling of safety.

And Caelus’ feeling had gone away too, he realized as he glanced back at Dan Heng’s sleeping form. He still didn’t quite have a name for it. Maybe… a feeling that something was wrong. But not just wrong in general. Something that was wrong with someone he cared about. And that was a feeling he wanted to hold onto.

#snz #eri writes #24snzvalentines #snzblr #snzfic #h/s/r #d/an h/eng #featuring c/aelus as the world's strangest caretaker #he means well he's just mentally deranged

[a-little-unsteddie]

for a minute in the sunlight I

i reached 400 followers today which is insane so have part one of a fic i’ve been working on. once i’m not half asleep i’ll post it to ao3 as well, which will be linked at the end of this note. this is an au i’ve been floating around in my head for a while now, which basically is my rendition of a meet cute ft. Famous!Steve x Normal(ish)!Eddie. except, eddie is a cosplayer, the character that steve voice acts for is coincidentally the character that eddie cosplays as, but that’s later. eddie has no idea that steve is the VA tho. ALSO eddie runs a booth in artist alley with chrissy! anyway, here is part one lol.

ao3 link

—part I: 1.7k words—

“Eddie Munson! You better be on your way!” Chrissy’s voice greeted him as Eddie pressed the ‘accept call’ button and pulled the phone up to his ear. He looked around his hotel room and grimaced.

“I am! I swear I am! I’m gonna get us coffee, though,” he said, grabbing his backpack filled with his convention supplies. He looked around the room, almost ‘aha’-ing out loud before grabbing the ‘artist’ lanyard he had gotten the night before as well as the hotel keycard.

“Good! If you’re not here before the booth opens I swear to god I’ll cut your hair!” She threatened him, causing Eddie to laugh.

“Relax! I’m almost to the cafe,” he lied, dashing out the door and shutting it quietly behind him to not alert the girl on the other end of the phone.

“You’re supposed to be here, y’know, at the convention, to be at your booth, to sell your art!” She snapped at him, sounding more amused than actually upset.

“I’ll be there soon! With coffee!” Eddie repeated, before hanging up just as the elevator dinged at him to indicate its arrival. He stepped onto the elevator, smiling stiffly at the stranger already occupying it. She glanced at him, but ultimately ignored his existence, which was just fine in his opinion.

Okay, so. Eddie knew Chrissy was right to be mad at him—he was meant to be at the venue around 9, and it was nearing 10, and the convention starts at 10:30, so really he had about 45 mins to get there, which was more than enough time to get there. But he was supposed to be there at 9, so he could be set up by 10, for opening at 10:30. He was forever grateful that Chrissy was a morning person and willing to put up with his bullshit.

They had known each other for years, growing up in the same small middle-of-nowhere town as each other. She had been cheer captain while he was forever bullied by the other jocks, but she had come to him one day and decided that he was going to be her best friend. Well, more like, Eddie decided that he wasn’t going to sell some girl hard drugs and instead talked to her.

The rest was history, as they say.

Eddie helped her get away from Jason, her abusive boyfriend, and Chrissy helped him get away from Hawkins. She was also the primary reason he was able to do art and cosplay as a full time gig, as she was able to market and manage his chaos better than he ever could. What had started out as a hobby that Eddie took on to express his frustration with the world had turned into his career, thanks to Chrissy. He had started out by posting his art onto instagram, tiktok, and tumblr, just wanting to show off the work he did for some fandoms he was active in.

Chrissy was also the one to convince him to try to sell his art. To his surprise, fans and non-fans alike ate his work up and bought the fuck out of it. Chrissy also helped him with starting to do conventions as a job rather than as an attendee — she helped him put together his portfolio and designs and ideas into something cohesive that could be set up in a booth in the artist alley of whatever conventions they could get into.

All of that is to say, Eddie owed a lot to Chrissy for his current life. One thing that Eddie couldn’t get figured out was time management. He was able to do most other things with Chrissy, like managing his online presence, restocking his prints when he was low, managing the booth when they were at a con. However, he could never seem to get anywhere on time the first go around. The first day of cons, without fail, led to Eddie arriving a few minutes before the booth opened to the rest of the con.

Which is why Eddie was running late, again.

Chrissy should know better than to expect him on time, but he also figured maybe he could work harder at being on time. Not that he didn’t try, he set an abundance of alarms every time, but one thing or another caused him to be late. This time it was the fact his alarm was set for 7:30 in the evening, instead of morning. He had woken up, checked his phone, saw it was 8:37 and shot up like a rocket to get his shit together. He was meant to do some sort of look today, but had decided against it so that way he wasn’t completely behind. So he just did a basic look — unfortunately that still took him nearly an hour. He didn’t even do make up, which to be fair, he never did on the first days of conventions.

Eddie was so caught up in his thoughts, rushing towards the cafe he knew was near the convention center, that he crashed right into someone leaving said cafe. He swore loudly, stumbling back with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention, oh my god,” Eddie rushed out, staring at the spilt coffee on the ground. There were two to-go cups laying there, making Eddie feel even worse because this person wasn’t just getting coffee for themselves. He looked up to apologize again, except the words died in his throat.

Was it cliché to say it was love at first sight?

The man looked less angry and more just sad at the coffee that was spilled at their feet, which, to be fair, Eddie felt really bad about.

The man looked up and caught Eddie’s eyes and Eddie was gone. He had honey colored hair, eyes made of milk chocolate, freckles dotted his cheeks, and Eddie could see moles on his neck and expected him to be covered in them. He smiled apprehensively at Eddie, as if expecting a sort of reaction to seeing him, but Eddie was distracted by his jawline. He felt heat crawling up his neck, and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“I’m more than happy to buy you new coffee, I’m so sorry,” Eddie apologized again, eyes wide.

“No— it’s okay,” the man responded and Eddie was floored because was there anything about this man that wasn’t completely perfect? Eddie knew he likely had heart eyes but he couldn’t help it, the stranger was just gorgeous.

“I insist! I ran into you, caused you to spill not one but two coffees! Let me buy you replacements at least,” Eddie pressed earnestly, smiling brightly, trying to put on his charm which he hadn’t used in years. It seemed to work, because the stranger's cheeks tinted pink as he nodded shyly. “Great! I’m Eddie,” he said, reaching out to offer his hand to shake, before changing his mind immediately and moving to grab the door. “After you, sweetheart.”

“Steve,” the stranger—Steve—responded, smiling timidly as he ducked back into the cafe. Eddie followed, letting his gaze drop for a moment to take a peek at his ass, which Eddie was dismayed to also find perfect. This is simultaneously the best and worst day of Eddie’s life.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie said as they came to a stop at the end of the line. “What are you in Chicago for?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Steve seemed to relax at the question, smiling softly as he answered. “Well, officially, I’m here to go to a convention, but unofficially I’m here to visit a friend I don’t get to see as often as I want.”

Eddie lit up, eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, no way? I’m going to a con too! I run a booth in artist alley! Maybe we’ll see each other?” He said, grinning at Steve. The man smiled back, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the excited man beside him.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows.

“Look for a booth called CorrodedCoffin Art, and that’ll be mine! If I’m not there, Chrissy will be, so you can just ask her where I am,” Eddie said, enthusiastically. The idea that he could see this man again was already making him vibrate with excitement.

“I’ll look for you,” Steve said earnestly, smiling crookedly. “I have a lot to do this weekend, but hopefully I can stop by and see you.” Eddie bobbed his head, pretty much bouncing in place.

“Cool! Oh! It’s our turn. You can order first,” the metalhead said, gesturing in front of him. Steve smiled at him before turning to the barista.

“Back so soon?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Steve laughed, glancing at the man next to him. “Yeah, this guy ran into me and spilled both of my drinks,” he said, leering teasingly at Eddie, who felt his cheeks heat.

“I said sorry! And I’m buying you new drinks to make up for it,” Eddie defended, crossing his arms and pouting. Steve snorted softly, before returning his attention to the barista. He ordered his two drinks before moving to the side to let Eddie order.

“One large iced caramel mocha, and one extra large iced white chocolate mocha, please,” he ordered with a hum. He handed over his card, barely disguising a wince as she read off the total to him.

“Extra large, huh?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows. Eddie laughed, shrugging helplessly.

“I was supposed to be at the convention center an hour ago,” he admitted, smiling, “the extra large is for Chrissy to make up for it.” He paused for a minute, looking Steve up and down and decided ‘fuck it’. “Can’t say I regret being late, though,” he said, winking at the man. Eddie delighted in watching Steve’s cheeks turn pink and itched to know how far down his body the flush spread.

“Well, I for one am glad you were running late,” Steve said, causing Eddie to grab a piece of his hair and hide a grin behind it. He watched as Steve’s gaze went down and then back up to meet his eyes.

Sooner than either man hoped, their orders were fulfilled. Eddie checked the time absentmindedly and cursed, seeing it was nearing 10:15. He reached into his bag and grabbed a sharpie, grinning as he wrote down his number onto a napkin.

“I am running late, but text me, maybe?” He asked, grinning shyly at the man as he tucked the napkin into his front pocket. He winked at him one more time before grabbing his drinks and dashing out the door. Chrissy would forgive him, probably.

#genuinely so excited to write more of this #but this is for fun so idk how often i’ll post #cosplayer!eddie #famous!steve #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #st #steve harrington x eddie munson #for a minute in the sunlight #unsteddie writing

[lilac-amethyst-skies]

An Open Canvas |2P!Italy X Reader|

Notes: nsfw, mirror, paint

Overview: Would Luciano consider this to be a study in art or a study in passion? In this case, why not both?

||||

Luciano’s lover had quite the creative streak.

He had known that since the moment he met her.  Though, one didn’t have to be terribly observant to notice such a thing, considering the splotches of paint, charcoal or whatever else that would make its way on her clothing and skin.  Of course, she didn’t always look like that.   Yet, more often than not, if one was around her enough, it would be impossible not to notice.

So, at the start, Luciano wasn’t quite sure what to make of her slightly unkempt appearance.  Luciano could certainly tell she took care of herself, but apparently decided that her remnants of art were better kept on her body.  And the more he came to know her, the more he noticed that she sometimes even took to directly drawing on her skin.  Little things mostly…but, once again, Luciano really didn’t get it.

The first time he caught her doing that, he didn’t hesitate to call her out.

“Why are you drawing on your arm?” he had quipped, “Don’t you think that would be better found on paper…”

Luciano trailed off a bit as he noticed her ‘art session’ coming to a slow halt.  The young woman pursed her lips and when she finally brought her eyes up to meet his own, the look Luciano found in them was entirely laughable.  An all too easy comparison could be made in witnessing a child that got caught in the act.  Yet, Luciano was quick to find an effortless calm, continuing to give her a rather unimpressed look.  He thought that maybe she would at least try to defend herself, but she gave him something else entirely.

The young woman let out a small, nervous chuckle.  She saw how the man in front of her simply crossed his arms in response.  He almost always appeared to be in a foul mood, and this time was no exception.  Perhaps it was due to her lack of sleep or the increasing awkwardness she felt, but the words that left her mouth next were surely something neither of them expected.

“Do you…do you want one, too? Or, y’know…” She didn’t finish her thought.  In fact, with each word she spoke, the quieter they got in horror of what was happening.

…

Silence filled the room.

Truly an inevitable result, all things considered.

She had just asked Luciano Vargas if he would like a butterfly to be drawn onto his arm…That hadn’t been said directly, but that was definitely what just happened and now they were both paying the price.

She would do anything for the opportunity to crawl into a hole and never come out.

…

There was still silence as they sat across the table from one another.

She wasn’t meeting his gaze anymore; her eyes found the calendar pinned on the wall much more interesting.  But Luciano didn’t do the same.  Instead, he kept his eyes on her and the woman was sure that they had the ability to burn holes into her skin, if he intended it.

…

“…No, thank you,” Luciano finally, slowly responded.

That had been one of their very first moments with one another.  The situation had been saved immediately after by his brother walking in, whisking the young woman away to wherever they were headed that day.  Luciano could always recall how mortified she had looked then and even though he hadn’t been sure of what to make of her at the time, he now looked over the memory in a teasing fondness. Especially now as he looks over her in the present.

Luciano hadn’t seen much of her today, which meant she was most likely in her art studio.  He was right, of course. Upon opening the door and walking in, he found that the current piece she had been working on was abandoned for her comfy little chair in the corner of room.   His lover must have a found an afternoon nap more pressing, as she had curled herself up into a position deemed comfortable enough for her.

A breathy chuckle left Luciano’s lips, playfully crossing his arms.  He began to take a few steps forward, being careful of the paint.

Luciano was always careful of the paint.

He habitually made a point in being nothing short of immaculate.

Though, there may or may not be one particular exception to that rule.

His footfalls finally came to a stop, right in front of the chair where she rested.  Luciano looked her over once again.  He always had a case of wandering eyes when it came to her, and it used to make her incredibly nervous.  Actually, there were still times that it was a cause of embarrassment, but it never seemed to bother her enough to tell him to stop.  And besides, he loved those hesitant, kind eyes and the blush that was sure to follow.

Luciano brought his shoe to tap the leg of the chair a few times, effectively jostling her entire person.  Amusement filled his stare towards the gentle groan that escaped her.  Her eyes fluttered open, a confused little look on her face as she tried to grasp where exactly she was and what was happening…she finally brought her gaze straight-ahead to find the reason of her short-lived nap.

Registering what was happening, that sheepish, little smile played at her face and she found herself sitting up straighter, allowing her legs to extend and feet to rest upon the floor.

“Very busy here, I see,” Luciano expressed, a mischievous edge meeting his words.  This caused her eyes to light up and the laughter that spilled from her mouth rang pleasantly.

“I got some work done, I swear,” she disputed, bringing her hands up in lighthearted, mock defense.  Her voice was still a bit groggy from her nap.  Luciano only rolled his eyes in return, letting out a huff of breath.

“I’m fairly certain we’ll find more paint on you, than the actual canvas, bella donna,” Luciano watched her blush.

“Oh, you still think I’m pretty?” she looked up at him with delightful eyes, her heart racing, “Even with all of this paint on my face?”

Luciano couldn’t help but to bring his face closer to her own, leaning downward to meet her.  She fought her desire to recoil, to match him where he was.  There certainly was quite a bit of paint that had made its way to the flushed cheeks of her face, her forehead, a bit on her nose…but yes, of course she was pretty. Beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking. The praises were always quick to fall from his lips, and she always shied away.  He always had to reel her back in to continue looking at him.

It seemed that his lover anticipated this episode to come forth because she was already starting to shift her gaze towards the floor, a demure smile starting on her face.  This only caused Luciano to chuckle, pulling back; he decided he’d spare her this time around.  Her eyes flickered upwards, once again, joining his light laughter.  Luciano’s hand was suddenly extended, an offer.  His lover took it without hesitation, and she loved the way his fingers gently wrapped around her hand so carefully.

She was suddenly on her feet, a bit of distance between the two.  To which was probably due to the state of her clothing.  Still, Luciano unconsciously brought his other hand to tuck a strand of unruly hair behind her ear.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sì?” the smirk on his face caused her heart to stutter.  After a wordless nod, the two of them left her studio and were quick to arrive in their shared bedroom.  Luciano took to sitting on the edge of their bed, watching as she found a new pair of clothing to then walk off to the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.  Luciano stayed where he was for the moment, hearing her shuffle about.  He heard the water of the sink finally turning on.  Luciano wasn’t entirely sure why, but it seemed that his legs moved of their own accord, finding himself standing and traipsing a confident stride in her direction, but not before shedding his suit jacket, leaving it abandoned on the nearby chair.  He had even took to removing his tie and unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt by a few.

The young woman had her attention toward washing her hands, the paint spiraling down into the sink’s piping.  There was movement at the bathroom door that distracted her.  Her gaze quickly shifted to see Luciano walking in, and she smiled, rather liking the look of him.   She brought her attention back to her hands.  Now that they were clean, she grasped the towel to her left, running it under the water, to then ring it out.  The job was mostly finished, but her face was still covered in paint.

Suddenly, Luciano’s hand came to rest upon her shoulder.  She turned to look at him curiously expecting some sort of answer.

“Sit down,” he urged softly, his head motioning toward the seat of toilet.  His lover was certainly confused but didn’t question his words and found herself seated.  She watched inquisitively as he rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.  The next thing she knew, Luciano had taken the towel from her hand and…

He brought it to rest against the side of her face.  There was a gentle application of pressure as he pulled it downward across her cheek, effectively taking the paint away, but being careful as to not irritate her skin.

She felt her heart swell.

And even though Luciano had only gotten maybe a quarter of the paint off, she couldn’t help but to grasp his hand as to halt him there.  Now it was Luciano’s turn to give her a questioning gaze, but it didn’t last long as she brought her other hand to the back of his head, bringing him forward to press her lips against him.

Though it did catch him off guard, he quickly decided to indulge his lover, setting the towel back down on the countertop.  He instinctively brought both of his hands to the sides of her face.  The wetness from his hands caused the previously dry paint on her face to smear, creating a new mixture of color on her face.

His mouth moved against her own intensely, even with his unhurried speed.  She sighed into his lips and immediately caved to his touch; the way that she so easily fell into his hands never failed to fill his body with excitement.  Luciano brought his tongue to slide along her bottom lip and his partner was quick to follow under his request.  His tongue found way through her parted lips, another soft moan coming from her.  Tilting his head a bit further to the side, he took to deepening the kiss.  His hands came slowly down to rest along her jawline, a few of his fingers brushing further along the sensitive skin of her neck.  Set alight by the growing heat in the room, Luciano’s lover found her own hands at his face, attempting to bring him even closer.  Luciano was so incredibly aware of how her desperation caused him to strain against the fabric of his pants.

Luciano finally broke the kiss with every intention to trail more down the flesh of her neck, but upon finally opening his eyes the hitch found in his breath was enough to gather even his partner’s attention.  Her eyes fluttered open in question, of which quickly turned into flushed shock.  In fact, she thought that her heart might have even stopped.  Maybe she would need to ask Luciano to check her pulse.

If Luciano hadn’t been so preoccupied, she might have, because in this moment all they could do was stare at one another.

To be entirely fair, Luciano’s dear lover didn’t look much different than what she usually did.  Though, the colorful paint he found smeared upon her nose, across her cheeks, further trailing down her neck…Luciano knew that this time around, its cause was due to an entirely different reason.  He didn’t take the time to directly look at his hands.  Luciano didn’t need to.  Instead, he allowed his gaze to trail towards the mirror in the room, already knowing what he would surely find, but still needing to see it for himself.

The woman waited with bated breath as she watched Luciano turn his head toward the mirror.  Oh, she already knew what he looked like; she was looking at him right now.  In response to the situation, she very slowly began retracting her hands that were previously on his face.  She took note to the newfound paint on her own palms, and she didn’t even want to think of the current damage they aided in creating.  Though really, most of it had been due to their faces having met in their spontaneous bouts of passion.

She would just have to wait and see how everything would unfold.

Luciano finally met his own gaze in the mirror.

It was a sight to behold, seeing a man such as him with paint smeared precariously across his face.  This, matched with his now unkempt hair and his more casual dress, after having rolled up his sleeves, made Luciano a person many didn’t have the slightest chance of seeing.  The woman staring intently at him couldn’t ignore the pleasure and excitement this brought to her.  She loved Luciano regardless, but seeing him like this?  It was almost too much to handle.  She thought of asking Luciano to just take her right then.

So then she could feel his searing touch.

And he would fill her so completely.

She would do anything.

Anything he asked her to do.

A different kind of tension was beginning to fill the room.  His eyes finally settled back to her.  Their color was stunning, and their intention left her burning.  Luciano’s eyes held a danger, but she was never frightened by them.  Their intensity was sealing a promise to her, and she trusted Luciano with whatever that may be. 

Luciano found purchase at the underside of her thighs, effectively lifting her up into his arms.  She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands finding his shoulders.  Luciano placed her on the bathroom countertop, her back to the mirror.  She shuddered as he brought his fingertips to lightly graze upon the side of her face.  His thumb lightly brushing along the softness of her lips.

“My…look what you’ve done to me,” Luciano breathed.  He drew his face close to her own.  Luciano watched as her eyes fluttered shut in response to his words. 

She realized that he wasn’t just speaking of the paint as she felt the hardness of his lower half press against her body.  It made her skin burn and her arousal flare.  Luciano was more than aware of this and always enjoyed playing this little game.

“We’ll have to do something about that, hm?”

She kept quiet as he continued to speak, hanging on to every word that left his lips.  She sighed as his mouth found her jaw.  A line of kisses led downward and the hand at her face found her hair, willing her head back for better access to her flesh.  Luciano’s teeth caught her skin, earning a sigh as he lightly bit down.  He then lazily brought his fingertips to dance along her sides beneath her shirt; she subconsciously arched closer to him as her own hands moved upward to weave through the softness of his hair.  Luciano enjoyed the dig of her fingers against his scalp, rewarding her with another bite, this time harsher.  It was enough to make her gasp, the feeling causing her to tug on his hair a bit more than intended.

Luciano hummed deeply at the feeling.

He finally pulled back, the marks left on her skin more than satisfying.  They created a far more beautiful painting than any canvas could ever hold.  Especially in the haze that covered her eyes, her lips slightly parted and the flush that dusted her cheeks, she provided a picturesque view of everything he had ever wanted.  Even with smeared paint included.  But he decided that he wanted more.

Luciano always wanted more.

And he would take it without hesitation.

His hands caught the bottom of her shirt, pulling the fabric up and over her head.  Luciano’s gaze immediately caught the swell of her breasts and the way they moved with the shifting of her arms.  He decided to leave the skirt she wore for now, bringing one of his hands to move across her stomach and upward to brush along her breast.  Her body reacted even at the lightest of touch as if her nerves were stripped bare to her lover’s whims.  Luciano fed into her lust, his hand finding her breast harshly and purposefully catching her hardened nipple.

She moaned and fell into him.  Luciano used her forward momentum to bring her flush to him, his hand leaving her for the moment.  He brought her legs to wrap around him and deliciously rolled his hips against her.  With her skirt pushed far up the expanse of her legs, it left little to the imagination to just how hard Luciano was.  She held onto him helplessly, the heat between her legs nearly unbearable.

Luciano ground into her again, bringing his lips to her ear.  The hot breath against her skin made her shiver, a wavering exhale escaping her.  Barely above a whisper, Italian spilled from his lips, words that she didn’t quite understand, but still made her heart race.  It wasn’t until a moment later that she realized that his words were more than just sweet nothings.  She was suddenly removed from the countertop, her feet finding the ground.  Luciano spun her around to face the mirror, pinning her to the counter.  On instinct, she found herself bent over, supporting her top half by her forearms.  The granite bit cold against her skin.  She was met with her surprised expression in the mirror, as well as Luciano’s ghosting smirk.  The quirk of his lips and the all too confident burn in his eyes drew her in like a moth to flame.  And the paint still presently smeared across his cheeks looked just as good, as well. 

She watched him carefully through the mirror as he leaned down to find her ear once again.  All too aware was she to how his hips harshly pinned her to the counter.  Luciano spoke again, this time in a language she understood,

“I said,” Luciano’s eyes met hers in the mirror, “I’m going to turn you around, and fuck you from behind over this counter.”

The sound of his belt suddenly unclasping startled her, being far too enraptured by his gaze.  She realized that Luciano wasn’t even going to bother with the rest of their clothing, especially when she felt his hands against her ass, her skirt having been pushed up.  He pressed his bare cock against her.  He heard a sigh leave her lips as she braced herself against the countertop.  The sight of her was intoxicating.

Luciano used one of his hands to push the fabric of her panties aside.  Not entering her quite yet, the head of his cock brushed against her.  The wetness made a groan threaten to leave his lips.  Her body shuddered as his cock moved against her and Luciano brought himself to catch her clit in his movements.

“Ah!” She softly gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.

With that, Luciano finally began sinking his cock into her.  A moan left her lips and she took notice to how he stretched her.  Without having prepared her first, she found herself especially thankful of how slow he entered her from the angle he chose.

The tightness of his lover left Luciano’s head swimming in pleasure.  Watching his cock disappear inside of her made his heart race and he knew his patience wouldn’t hold out for much longer.  As if on cue, he was finally hilted in her.  Luciano shifted his hips and the moan that came from her spurred him to move even more.

She felt Luciano’s hands at her hips.  His thrusts grew faster and the feeling of his cock deep inside of her left her gasping.  She wished she had something to hold onto as her hands unsuccessfully grabbed at the granite beneath her palms.  One of Luciano’s hands moved from her hips to the clasp of her bra.  The article of clothing was removed, and he was quick to find her sensitive nipple between his fingertips.

Luciano heard his lover breathe his name, sending a feeling of desire straight to his cock.  He swore he could feel her twitching around him, and he wondered how long she would last like this.  She felt his hand move from her breast to her hair.  She was caught off guard by his sudden grip and how it pulled her head slightly back.  The slight shock of pain yielded to the pleasure she felt, sparking heat that was continually coiling in her lower half.  This with the sounds of their coupling made the challenge of holding on seemingly futile.

The tensing of her body and the sounds that left her brought signs to Luciano that she was nearing her release.  In response, he shifted his hips in a way that would drag his cock deeper inside of her.  Luciano relentlessly thrusted into her, groaning as she subconsciously clenched around him.

“Luciano.”

His name was resounded with an uncontrolled fervor.  His lover repeated his name, again.  And then once more, each time growing in desperation, and Luciano knew that he was sending her over the edge.  In one harsh thrust, she felt the pleasure that had been building up inside of her snap.

As she came, she risked a look toward their reflection in the mirror.  The expression she found on Luciano’s face may have been just as pleasurableas spinning into her release.  The raw, unabashed countenance Luciano carried as he watched her unravel brought her to her knees just the same.  Who was she to be able to see a man such as him abolish his mask of stoicism and harshness?  The way that Luciano held her and worshipped her was nothing less than being gifted with the finest of gold or silk. 

And now Luciano chased after his own release, the new wetness that covered his cock brought him even closer.   Each thrust left short pants escaping from his lips as he took notice of the glisten of sweat on his lover’s back.  He began to grip her tighter at the hips; Luciano knew he would leave bruises and it was after that thought matched with a particularly harsh moan from her that had him spilling inside of her.  Luciano groaned and the rhythm of his hips stuttered in pace until finally coming to a stop.

The hand at her hair finally released its grip and brought itself to gently graze along her back.  It was then that she also felt the softness of Luciano’s lips press into the skin of her back.  The reflection of the mirror presented Luciano bending over her, his eyes closed.  Satisfied and content, Luciano finally removed himself from her.  Carefully, he helped her come to full height.  Still with both facing the mirror, he gently wrapped his arms around her and peppered kisses to the side of her head.  She sighed and leaned back into him, trusting that Luciano would continue to hold her up.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“What?” she mumbled softly.

“I think a shower is in order.”

They both turned to look at one another, this time not relying on the mirror’s refection to reveal the state they were in.  She suddenly laughed, her lips upturned and her eyes showing a playful glow that Luciano could only wish to have.  It took his breath away.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips as she began helping Luciano undress.

#hetalia #aph hetalia #hws hetalia #2p italy #luciano vargas #fanfiction #hetalia x reader #oneshot #⚠️ smut

[leemillion]

CALLING ALL PRESTON GOODPLAY LOVERS (aka me)

IM MAKING A PLAYLIST

FOR THE ONE AN ONLY 😌

AND I NEED SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF HIM. WHETHER THAT BE DIFFERENT STAGES OF HIS LIFE (canon or headcanon) OR YKNOW JUST WHATEVER GIVES YOU THE ✨VIBES✨

I’D LOVE SOME OUTSIDE OPINIONS ON THIS

HERE’S THE SONGS I ALREADY HAVE IN ORDER:

Introduction to the Snow - Miracle Musical (gives me the ✨vibes✨)

Look Who’s Inside Again - Bo Burnham (Think it would describe his childhood. At least a part of it)

Am I Supposed To Apologize? - Maria Mena (It’s %90 percent here because of a few short lyrics that would imply him discovering his love of theater. The other %10 is because I have a headcanon he’s a child of divorce parents.)

My Play - AJR (C’mon man it seems pretty self explanatory if you’ve listened to it. Plus it adds onto the divorced parents theory)

The Main Character - Will Wood (It’s literally him. C’mon man. The vibes. Also you cannot tell me he wouldn’t be a huge Will Wood fan.)

Hard to Be the Bard - Something Rotten! (He’s a writer✨ An artist✨ It can’t possibly be easy 😔)

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos (Now this one is more the Performance Trio as a whole but still. Preston is the poet, obviously 😌 while Nerris is the soldier and Harrison is the ruler.)

I/Me/Myself - Will Wood (Because he's just so ✨gender✨ Plus if you headcanon him as gender-fluid it makes this even better.)

Oh No! - Marina & The Diamonds (A desire to succeed. To make it big in this world. He knows what he wants and he won’t stop at nothing to get it. He definitely has a fear of failure. And who’s to say he doesn’t feel like he’s the worst? He already acts like he’s the best. Who’s to say that’s not a cover up?)

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic (Consider this the beginning of Preston Goodplay’s Good Play. He finally has a performance piece that people seem to like. He’s finally getting the love and attention he so deserves 😌 But at what cost?)

Non-Stop - Hamilton (Turns out his new performance is the only thing people seem to want. So why not just keep writing up new ideas for it? Sure he’ll eventually run out. But right now’s not eventually! He’ll just have to keep coming up with new ideas for it! Thing is it’s getting a lot more stressful than he intended.)

Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham (Oh Y’know just that one scene where he’s arguing with his own fucking reflection. Unsure whether he should sell out and give the people what they want, or follow what he wants with the risk that no one would like it.)

Show & Tell - Melanie Martínez (Ok this is getting ridiculous. They’ve started showing up to his practices and commenting on HIS writing process. It’s overwhelming. But what can he do about it? They’re his target audience. Well his only audience but still-)

Everyone is Dumb - Mazie x Everybody Likes You - Lemon Demon (Seems self explanatory. Everyone actually pays attention to him now. They’re excited for his performances. Everyone likes him. But they’re also stupid. It’s a stupidly simple performance that’s virtually the same every time. Yet they never get tired of it. Yes they like him, but is it worth it if this is the reason they like him.)

Shine A Light (Reprise) - Heathers (Oh y’know just the silly little nightmare he has :,D And then the hallucinations of his own reflection laughing at him. Plus him pulling out that prop knife uh- was he just being dramatic or??? Like he did have a bit of a psychotic break, man’s was hallucinating. How do we know he didn’t think the knife was real? Like was he actually trying to- y’know? Seriously is he ok-??)

Are You Satisfied - Marina & The Diamonds (He talks to David for a bit. And something’s called to question. Is he satisfied with this? He’s worried about his future yes, but then again what’s the point of making art if he doesn’t actually like it himself. It’s pointless. And he realizes no one else should get a say in what he wants to create. It’s his problem. No one else’s.)

Drama Club - Melanie Martinez (Honestly just doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinions anymore and that’s kind of a good thing. Even if they hate it. “Any reaction, positive or negative, is still a reaction :D” As tomatoes are pelted towards him. Honestly a healthier mentality than he had before. And I think that’s the end of the Preston Goodplay’s Good Play section of the playlist!)

Recess - Melanie Martinez (I’m here for Preston’s grandmother raising him and teaching him everything she knows 🗣️🗣️🗣️ Stg every lyric fucking fits. Also I think this could apply to his new mentality of “Fuck you it’s my art not yours I do what I want.” A nice little summary to the fiasco that is Preston Goodplay’s Good play.)

Mirror Man - Jack Stauber’s Opal (Mostly just gives me Preston vibes. His desire to become famous and what not.)

Art Is Dead - Bo Burnham (Vibesss man. “I am an artist, please god forgive me. I am an artist, please don't revere me. I am an artist, please don't respect me I am an artist, you're free to correct me. A self-centered artist. Self-obsessed artist. I am an artist. I am an artist. But I'm just a kid. I'm just a kid. I'm just a kid, kid. And maybe I'II grow out of it”)

Finale (Can’t Wait To See What You Do Next) - AJR (Honestly just thought it’d be cool to have the last song in the playlist be called Finale 💀 But I think it’s a nice little summary of his character. A final bow if you will 😌)

Anyways that’s about it. If anyone else has suggestions or input on the songs already here feel free to! Hell if you happen to disagree with anything feel free to. I love discussions about things I like :D Also feel free to suggest songs that you think I should add 😌 Gonna go pass out now baiiii

#preston goodplay #camp camp preston #cc preston #cc preston goodplay #Camp camp #camp camp headcanons #theater kid #i fucking kin this mf wtf #Tw implied sewerslide #Preston Goodplay’s Good Play #Playlist #character playlist #Precious theater boy✨ #Gonna go pass out now brb #i’m going insane

[kabie-whump]

Welcome!

I've been privately interested in whump my entire life, but this is my first time putting myself out in the community! It's very cool to see how many other people like the same things as me after spending so many years thinking I'm weird and freaky for it. I'm dedicating 2024 to giving myself permission to be cringe and to like what I like without shame, so here we are! ♡

18+ only please! You may encounter nsfwhump here!

Feel free to send random asks, prompts, whatever!

Also, you can use anything I post! If one of my whump ideas inspires you or you really like one of my characters and want to play with them go ahead and steal. Just tag/credit me pretty please.

✧.* Masterlist ✧.*

♡ Ao3 account ♡ My whump ideas ♡ OC writing ♡ All art ♡ OC Intros

Search #ventisposting or #ventis for literally any post that mentions Ventis.

*This blog is safe for fellow emetophobes*

If you come across a broken link on my blog please tell me I'm trying to fix them but I'm sure I didn't get to them all!

Dislikes and Likes below ⬇️

Will not interact with / muted content:

Eye whump

Emeto

Force-feeding

Lady whumpee (particularly if it’s non-con)

Tooth/mouth whump (although i am pro using gags in bondage situations)

Non-con whump with a child whumpee

Faves:

Pet whump

Field medicine (no access to painkillers >>>)

Drug whump

Nonhuman (but still humanoid) whumpee

Difficult recoveries

Lab whump

Magic/fantasy

Neutral / might interact or write:

Non-con NSFW

Minor whump (I’m cool w it if it’s not like,,, a baby child y’know?)

Torture / interrogation

[labrdorite]

nico sketches i did as a warmup + 20 minute s/i sketches i did while my hands were tembling for dear life (designing a s/i for him)

hi i sketched out my s/i for him (naming them ambrose for convenience)

they go to the same university he does, & are in the same grade, they’re just 3 years younger. (they’re also in a different major. they’re an illustrator while he’s a game designer :3)

literally struggling HARD with the move from online schooling to in person schooling they’re holding on for dear life. new school AND new state (thankfully they’d emailed back & forth with him before getting his disc. so they had a friend.

btw for first meeting stuff, while their first meeting was online, they were friends for a WHILEEE before dating. HOWEVER!

amb had to fake date him for so long bc they kept getting teased :/ literally had the whole ‘omg are you single do you have a bf my friend would LOVE to date you’ so they just blurted out that they & nico were dating so they both had to go along w it (pls read ‘starting with a lie’ by liang azha bc that plot is what im stealing for this!)

anyways cue faking dating scenarios except these two secretly like each other HARD FOR REALS but literally dont wanna say it bc its so difficult to make friends as it is and they dont wanna ruin that (+ feelings are complicated so they both just brush it off to ‘not interacting w anyone for a long time so its just infatuation’) whatever

universe crossover for my other oc f/o moots but hc their friends (your guys’ ships) are SOOOOOO sick of them. doing everything in their power to be supportive & not bully them for being dense /j

they end up working together on projects, and have their own personal project theyre working on! (nico has a concept for a game, & amb does all the illustrations and concept art for it) & hc they end up together once the game is completed bc that means SO much to me oh my goodness. THE LOVE BETWEEN A GAME DESIGNER & HIS ILLUSTRATOR YOU DONT GET IT!!!!

anyways. more amb facts. they have random moles across their body. also, like nico, their joints easily dislocate. (ankles, knees, and wrist specifically) bc fluid builds up easy. a side effect of sports injuries & the HARD STOP from being athletic that was a cultural shock to them.

they also have a hard time processing things, but dont know why. they just chalk it up to the three concussions they got in the span of 1 year & a half finally catching up with them (also constantly thinks theyre having a stroke bc they sometimes can’t comprehend easy, basic concepts, words, etc…. im projecting this is just real for me).

outside of drawing their hands are so useless. muscle spasms all over the place. (their mood also swings WILDLY sometimes. y’know how i always come on here wanting my blood vessels to explode then im fine moments later? yeah theyre like that but since it mimics my irl way of expressing emotions its worse)

they’re trying their best all the time ™️ pls be nice. (also v bad at social stuff tbh. but theyre trying. :3)

btw they’d 100% be mischaracterised as a ‘low maintenance friend’. nah. they don’t text ALL day ALL the time (or even a ‘normal amount’), but the do respond as best they can & always have large burst of convos. but seriously they’re that friend you hang out and just do nothing with their social battery is very smile

they know how to play volleyball & skateboard btw :3

also fun fact abt them but also abt me: they didnt know how to ride a bike until they were 14-15 :] (also they still cant ride one bc its been years… haha, totes not projecting…)

#— 🎨🩵 #🎮📘 #i still need a s/i tag ugggghhh

[bassdaily]

There is no Official Capcom Game Canon™ hair for Bass. No unused design sketches or character art that has been released. Nothing even from canon-adjacent licensed games.

But I wonder if it might exist? Because we’ve seen his hair across various comics, and while ‘Manga / Comic & Cartoons Canon’ is not ‘Official Game Canon™’ ...weirdly enough it’s been consistent, especially compared to, y’know, Blues. (Blues, who 100% had a game canon hairstyle from his debut in MM3.)

Classic Rock’s hairstyle is drawn really uniformly. Sometimes it’s black, sometimes it’s brown, sometimes it’s desaturated navy blue, but it’s always a dark color and even with radically different art styles his hair still has the same basic, well, shape.

The same goes for Bass! Ariga’s sketch isn’t even canon for Gigamix, and we only see some hair poking out of his broken helmet in Archie comics. But like Rock, the style is consistent, and both times it’s colored in, his hair is dark. (The sketch is just not colored in. It could be light, it could be dark. There’s also a sketch of Blues on the same page... his hair isn’t colored in either.)

The Rockman & Forte manga ran from April 1998 to January 1999. From what I can gather, the “Burning Shot” short is from 1998.

Rockman Gigamix was published in 2009. The sketch Hitoshi Ariga drew of helmetless Forte was at FanExpo Canada, August 2010.

Archie's Worlds Collide crossover ran from April to August 2013.

It’s entirely possible that Kouji Izuki came up with something for the game’s manga adaption, and when asked about it on the spot Ariga drew from that, and then Archie comics kept what was previously done by the manga artists. Especially given how Archie loved to pack in references to other Mega Man ‘verses.

Conversely, any one of them could’ve gone with whatever unique design they wanted, and they didn’t. I think it’s possible that the artists and writers producing licensed franchise spin-offs might have had access to unreleased “series bible” material that we the public will never get to see because Capcom has totally forgotten this character exists in the first place. So the real question is: after Novas Aventuras, did Capcom have the wherewithal to go “hey maybe we should lay down some guidelines on how these characters are depicted”?

(Quick comparison of how helmet failure is shown for both characters in Archie comics. Rock’s hair is disheveled from the fight, yet still the right style and color.)

#mega man #mega man bass #rockman forte #rockman #bass #text post #analysis #musings #jixie rambles #hairstyles #(I think they also know what blues' REAL eye color is) #(maybe it is red I just... have trouble taking xdive's word for it) #(even in a demi-canon context) #(ANYHOW) #(there's my argument for dark hair) #(in the interest of fairness I will reblog the argument for blond hair) #(which is pretty good actually but also relies on canon adjacent material) #(thank you for coming for my TED talk)

[undercoverpena]

anon, I’m not going to post your ask because I didn’t feel comfy with the wording you used in it. but I’ll answer your question (rephrased)

question: how do you deal with one fic blowing up and another not?

the first thing I want to touch on is that you can’t go around lifting someone up to bring another person down—even if that person is yourself. you can’t go to someone and spell ill on yourself and expect the person you’re sending it to be super chill about it 😂 i do not want you to belittle your writing, whether on anon or not.

you can go to someone and be like “I love how you did X, I’m looking to get better at that” but, watch self-deprecating language (we’re all guilty of it is as humans) but it’s harder for me to even process what you’re saying when you’re on anon. I can’t clarify what you meant, I can only just make an assumption on the language you used.

which is why I didn’t post your ask, and I’m just hoping that I took the point out of it that you wanted to know 🩷✨

when you walk around believing you’re smaller than someone, the only thing you’re doing is telling yourself that you’re smaller than someone. it’s reinforcing a thought that your brain is creating to be mean (brain demons). negativity breeds negativity.

as a blog owner, we should celebrate the highs without fear that others will think bad on us. but the reason I don’t is because of mentalities like this where people assume I think I’m too big for my boots because I reached some pinnacle of followers. try to remember I am a multi-fandom writer, I collect souls as I wander aimlessly through the grass, and also, I’m no less wracked with worry, anxiousness or doubt than most. a number in my followers or on a fic doesn’t solve those problems or how I view myself.

now, to answer the question, I don’t? and I know that seems so easy to say right. like “oh, jo isn’t bothered”, she’s this and that. but the truth is, there’s no explanation. like sometimes, I’m someone’s cup of tea and another I’m not. sometimes I’ll write something people wanna drink up there and then, sometimes they’ll wanna wait, or skip past it. and it’s okay.

I don’t expect anyone to feel forced to read my work, and when they do it’s a blessing. that’s it. the beauty of fanfic and writing and art, is that there’s so much you can find exactly what you want, when you want it.

like, do I want to be beloved? yes, I want tattoos of peoples faces on me (haha, I kid, Pedro interview moment I promise). but I obviously want to connect with people, I want my writing to matter. but I try not to get hung up on it connecting on a scale — I just want to tell stories of people falling in love. I want people to be able to escape, and that isn’t represented in notes, that isn’t represented in numbers or anything. that’s a feeling, and I can’t measure that.

and I preach this a lot, but you have to find your people. the people who will want your particular style and swallow it up. the ones that connect with you when you stay true to who you are.

anyone can write a piece, but no one can write it like you. you can give five writers the same one line prompt and we’ll all interpret it differently. y’know?

now, do I sometimes sit all disgruntled that the fic snapped from a piece of my heart isn’t doing “well” (whatever that even means), of course! I am human.

but what I don’t do, is pick a part why that is. I just try to remember that this is what I wanted to write, this made me happy (or helped me work through things) or that (when the imposter syndrome passes) it’ll be something I want to read.

for instance, I am not a confident smut writer. smut does really well. I don’t actively avoid writing it, but I try to make it less of a focus on what I’m doing, because even if it does well, I am not good at it. and I never feel as proud of it.

however, there are times I have this idea and it’s smut and I literally harass friends with my idea before even attempting it—but again, I didn’t write it because smut does well here. I wrote it because the idea was stuck in my head 😂. I don’t expect it to do well, because going back to my first sentence, I am not a confident smut writer. the notes on it, mean nothing. what does mean something is me and my bestie screaming about what a slut I am and how proud she is of me 😂, that means more to me.

so to summarise, it’s hard to not be bothered, if you spend time looking at numbers. it’s a tough cookie to bite into it. but you have to find a core reason why you wanna do what you do, and keep that at the centre of you.

be dejected (if you need to be) when you stare at it and wonder why it didn’t “blow up”, but don’t let that fester inside of you, don’t let it stop you from writing. hold the reason you want to do this and remember that.

plus, every day you become a better writer, even if you don’t write every single day. you learn new words, see new inspo, hear new conversations. so, there’s always the next one, if notes are something you’re seeking.

love, jo 🩷✨

#asked and answered #anon #the reason I didn’t feel comfy was because it seemed like I was on a pedestal #pls do not put me on a pedestal #write what you love #writing #fandom writing #murdvck’s writing

[littlemisssquiggles]

...SO...ABOUT THE DRAGON PRINCE SEASON 5...

So I finally settled down to watch the new season of The Dragon Prince: Mystery of Aaravos and oddly enough, I don’t have much to say about for this current season.

Don’t get me wrong, that’s not to say that the season was bad or that I didn’t enjoy it. I just don’t have a lot to gush about for S5 to fill an entire musing post so I’m just gonna give my general thoughts:

Overall, I thought S5 was pretty solid season. I definitely enjoyed it a lot better than S4, for sure.

As always, the art and animation of the series looked beautiful and I don’t know if it’s cause I haven’t watch TDP in a while but somehow the animation looked a lot better to my eyes than ever

But given how S5 ended, now I am completely confused as to where exactly this story of Aaravos is going to go. Here I figured it would’ve played out as what you’d expect---I figured Claudia would’ve succeeded in retrieving Aaravos’ prison; freeing him entirely and saving her father in the process---y’know her entire motive for this current arc.

But instead, not only does Claudia fail compared to last season’s conclusion (and losing a leg in the process! Like that surprised me. I wasn’t expecting Rayla to have cut the tentacle that was actually Claud’s real foot. That got me good) but to my surprise as the audience, Viren actually had a change of heart?!

Not only does he wish to do away with dark magic but also Aaravos’ influence as well; basically resolving himself to die and the season just ends with him preparing to do so.

I...was not expecting that at all.

And do you know what else I wasn’t expecting? That little tidbit about Viren’s past with baby Soren and what was hinted during that sequence.

From what I gathered from Viren’s memories, it seems like as a toddler, Soren was very sick and appeared to be at death’s doorstep until Viren used dark magic to either bring his son back from the brink of death or cure him of whatever cursed disease he had that was plaguing him.

This is about the second time Soren has been saved from some life-threatening event by his loved ones using dark means to do so. We got a taste of it back in S2 when Claudia killed the baby deer to cure Soren of his paralysis and now we have the reveal of Viren doing the same to cure him of some unknown illness he has a baby.

This makes me wonder something about Soren---is he supposed to die at some point? Is this a sign by the narrative that there’s going to be death flags for Soren? Both his sister and their father have done bad things just to keep him alive.

Imagine if…in the end, Soren sacrifices his life for either his father or Claudia or both of them?

As adorably naive as the show often likes to portray Soren at times as our veteran himbo, Soren is also pretty selfless and loyal, almost to a fault---willing to do anything to protect the people most dearest to him. Before it was his family and now it’s his friends. And what’s worse is that Soren is oblivious to what both his sister and their father have done for him.

How do you think Soren will react to knowing what his dad did for him when he was just a baby boy?

Dear Dragon Prince, you can’t just have Viren be a complete awful dad to Soren last season (which fits the bill since Viren has always been an ass to his son) and then be like “Nah, Viren actually loves Soren more than we’ve led ya’ll, the audience, to believe for FIVE WHOLE seasons. Here have a flashback of Viren actually being loving and affectionate to his only son and first born child.”

Viren has always been that kind of conflicting villain where you don’t like him for his actions but you can’t completely bring yourself to hate him because most of his heinous acts have been for the betterment of people he cares about deeply. So between, this new Soren revelation and Viren hitting Aaravos with dem divorce papers after telling him to kill their discount Smeagle/Gollum love child to bring himself back to life fully, this just adds another layer of conflicting feelings for yours truly with Viren as a character and what the f***k Aaron Ehauz and Justin Richmond.

And this is ONTOP of whatever the f***k they intend to do with the King Harrow’s soul being trapped inside of a bird which they actually teased this season.

Oh good! I thought they FORGOT that plot line because two years have passed within the TDP universe and neither Ezran nor Callum are aware that their father is alive…kind of? It’s kind of up in the air right now like the bird that his body was swapped with whose whereabouts are unknown.

All we know is that the bird escaped way back in season…what is it? One? The very first book and FIVE SEASONS later, we still don’t know what became of it.

FIVE SEASONS and HOW MANY BOOKS OF SIDE STORIES and we still got no closure on that, among other things.

I have a feeling that by the time the Mystery of Aaravos is resolve, the whole main cast is gonna have their dads back.

Callum and Ezran are gonna get their dad back cause he ain’t dead---he a bird.

Rayla is gonna get her dad, her dad figure and even her momma back too cause they ain’t dead---they got turned into money!

Claudia and Soren are gonna get their dad back cause Viren ain’t dead---he got brought back to life and there may be a sliver of chance in the plot that he’ll end up surviving and living long enough to have an actual healthy relationship with BOTH of his children, no dark magic required.

And finally Zym---the Dragon Prince himself---is gonna get his daddy back because the Dragon King ain’t dead either! He just turned to stone and I’m sure there will be some magical way to turn him back.

It’s actually kind of funny---NOBODY’S DAD IS ACTUALLY DEAD IN THIS SHOW XD

I feel like they’re gonna pull a complete bait and switch. Since this is the second season they’ve teased an alternate opening with Callum as one of Aaravos’ key pawns, this cannot be a coincidence now.

In a future season, Callum will fall to the dark side and become a dark mage; whether he does so willingly of his own choice or not as a result of becoming possessed by Aaravos again.

Here I thought it was going to be Claudia who would ultimately turn full evil and we’d basically get a similar scenario as to what we got in S3 with her replacing her father as Aaravos’ main vessel.

However; after watching this season in full, it dropped just enough nuggets to debunk this. Following the ending of “Finnegrin’s Wake”, hinting more at the possibility of Callum experimenting with dark magic, I feel like that will be the twist or subversion for the next book/future season: Aaravos trading Claudia and Viren for Callum becoming his dark mage with friends needing to come together to save him.

That’s my theory for now.

So in conclusion, Season 5 was pretty good. Not gonna gripe too much about Rayllum this time since they actually delivered good on some decent Rayllum crumbs for this book. Still no kisses as yet (except in a flashback to the SUPERIOR S3) but I'll take what I got from this season. ESPECIALLY the part where Amaya popped off on Rayla for breaking Callum's heart and leaving him.

Mad respect for Amaya for looking out for her nephew's best interest; even jacking up his ex. Especially since it led to a cute moment between the couple later. I mean, they're still not back together-together as yet officially but like I said I'll take it for now.

At least we got some Terry and Claudia kisses this season which were quite sweet.

Terry wasn't as big of a focal character for this season sadly as he was last season but still loved his moments of being a more grounded and positive source support for Claudia. No pun intended here but Terry is really growing on me as a favourite from this side of the TDP story.

If I have anything more to say, I'll say in seperate post. As for now, these are main thoughts on TDP S5.

~LMS (2023)

#squiggles talks: the dragon prince #the dragon prince #the dragon prince season 5 #tdp season 5 #tdp spoilers

[bandsanitizer]

I don’t like the idea of regrets or wanting to change things in the past when ultimately it leads you exactly where you are, y’know? but there are times where I think about 5sos and their start and their sound and I wonder how much different their art would be had they’d taken off within the pop-rock/pop-punk scene instead. if they didn’t spend the first half of their career needing to prove they weren’t a “boyband” while also not making a big deal about it either way.

because I think, they’d have been too pop for the genre of a lot of the bands they covered, but at the same time they were a touch too rock influenced and “real instruments” for the pop scene they were invited into. and I think that notion, to start off with the idea that there’s something to prove about who they are as artist… I think it set the tone that has always sort of stuck to the presentation of their music. hence all the self-titles. it’s like this search for self, but applied to the band. there’s the push and pull to the different parts of the industry their influences and leaning have caused and while it makes for interesting music and all the differences in the albums they’ve released, it does make me wonder how they would’ve grown differently as artist had they not been set on their pathway to fame by a louis tomlinson tweet, but more along the lines of them having toured with hot chelle rae.

this isn’t to say I have negative feelings about their whole story, etc. but there’s just the curiousity towards alternate timelines, of parallel universes, of existences that split because of one moment. and while I know there are obstacles and hardships whichever way, I do wonder if they would’ve escaped the very real conflict of trying to discover their sound, or if that same struggle would’ve been just as present, just appearing different.

and it makes me want, so badly, for them to be able to find their sound. as a fan, I do believe they have to an extent—bc there are 5sos songs I’ve heard that do not sound like a 5sos song. and 5sos5 really showcases a sense of the band’s identity that’s been a long time coming. but as each member is still growing and figuring out themselves, there’s also this sense that this isn’t just quite yet their sound? if that makes any sense. like that hint of wfttwtaf in some of the tracks? it’s the feeling that while the band is all four of them coming together, and maybe there’s no need for them to try to hone down a singular Sound together (and I mean they don’t have to LOL), there’s aspect that go “oh that’s a luke track” “that’s a michael track” etc etc not un similar to “oh they listened to all time low” or whatever present in their first two albums. that while naturally you will hear each of them in the music, I’m always excited for the blend of them all in the sonic. and maybe that’s subjective, but to me as great as 5sos5 is and all, there’s part of me that think it’s leading to the next album that just fucking… blows the rest of their discography away.

#disclaimer: idfk what this is #just like a BLAH of brain mush #anyways #alison speaks? #i watch rock/metal background youtubers react to 5sos and just #Think yknow? like how things might’ve been different #about how much those 2013-2016 years shaped them and their approach to art and the industry #and ultimately how much I hope they can truly look at an album and say THIS this is a 5sos album #ot4

[a-dragons-journal]

Y’know, it never ceases to surprise, amuse, and comfort me how talking about experiences openly and in a public space so frequently leads to immediately finding others with those experiences, inspiring them to talk about it as well, or just straight-up causing them to Realize Things About Themselves.

Almost every single time I post about some experience or other that I’ve been thinking about for a while but have been nervous to talk about publicly for whatever reason, I immediately have people going “oh, I’m not the only one?” or “there’s a word for that?” or “ah shit that made me realize some things” in response. It just happened re: the previous post on my blog where I finally brought up the idea of being “capable of plurality” without actually being plural (yet); when I started posting about my hearthome experiences more often I suddenly saw a number of other hearthic folks (and Avatar fictionfolk in general, actually) start bringing up their own experiences in the tags when previously I’d been able to find jack shit in the way of hearthome experience essays; I have a running joke with a couple of friends of mine about how much of an awakening catalyst I am because of the number of times I’ve said something or tossed some art and triggered a (sometimes only tangentially related!) noema/memory to show up/accidentally helped them connect some dots that had previously been unconnected.

And, truth be told - isn’t that part of why we post about our alterhumanity? Isn’t that kind of interplay and comfort in finding one another a large chunk of why the community exists in the first place? So perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me - but it’s still a pleasant surprise every time, and it still encourages me to continue braving talking about the stuff I’m nervous to talk about.

I encourage y’all to do the same - you might be surprised at the responses you get.

#otherkin #alterhuman #rani talks #journaling