#i think i can rely on muscle memory but like. what else is there for me to do while standing there

[halfax-a]

1 sleep until blur (i bought the stupidly expensive hoodie)

#gonna stand there tomorrow cramming lyrics like i'm studying for a test #i think i can rely on muscle memory but like. what else is there for me to do while standing there #eeehehehehehhehee #off queue

[artiststarme]

It's No Secret... Anymore

Thank you to @mx-jinxous for the prompt! This took a really long time to write but it was so much fun playing with everyone's dynamics. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve felt like he was dreaming. It felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes, dissociating far from his own body. He couldn’t feel the weight of Eddie’s slowly-fading body in his arms or the burning of the wounds in his sides. He wasn’t aware of where he was or if anyone was following him. He was purely relying on muscle memory and muscle memory alone. 

He didn’t see the speeding car in front of him that swerved into a nearby bush and fence post. He hardly noticed the hands pulling him backward and out of the road. He came back to himself though once he heard his brother’s voice. 

“Steve? Steve-O? Come on buddy, you’re worrying me here. Where have you been? I haven't seen your ass all week. Come on man, are you… are you fucking bleeding? Brother, answer me. We can’t be out here, there’s an earthquake going on. Come with me.”

Steve blinked just to come face to face with Phil. He was shining his flashlight on Eddie’s face against Steve’s shoulder but his eyes were focused directly on Steve’s.

“You with me, bro?” His mustache twitched unhappily and Steve rushed to answer. 

“Um, no. Not really. I think he’s dying and I kinda might be too. And I think my friends are missing? Where am I?” Steve couldn’t get his thoughts together cohesively. His mind was fractured, overcome with too much trauma in too little time. 

Phil just looked more concerned at his words with his face becoming vaguely panicked once he looked at Eddie. He looked quickly up at Steve, down at Eddie, then back at Steve. “Is this Eddie Munson? The murderer Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson that has been on the run all week? Good golly Steve, I’m trying not to curse but what the fuck?”

Steve just looked at the pinched expression of pain that Eddie held and murmured, “he’s my friend.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Fine, we’ll deal with this later. Think you can walk to my squad car? I kinda damaged the front end but I’m sure it's semi-driveable. Powell’s tied up with the gates to hell opening up, I have plenty of time to take care of you.”

“Yeah, I can- I can walk,” and he could with the support of Phil. He felt his brother supporting both his and Eddie’s weight until they were deposited into the backseat of the patrol unit. 

“And uh, is the girl hiding in the bushes with you? She’s kinda been watching us for awhile. You might have a stalker, little bro.” He shined his flashlight over to the bush and saw a sandy bob duck behind the foliage. 

“Robin?” Steve muttered, still out of it and only on the verge of consciousness. 

“Buckley, is that you? Come on, you’re coming with us back to Steve’s place. Let’s go,” Phil waved the light between the two. He had both hands on his hips and stood like a disappointed middle-aged dad. “I don’t have time to be doing things willy-nilly. Let’s go!”

Robin poked her head out of the bushes and scooted gracelessly over to the car until she was able to bump elbows with Steve. They both relaxed a smidgen within the same space, the two brain cells reuniting after a stressful ten minutes apart.

Phil hopped in the driver’s seat and bumped his head against the steering wheel. What had this idiot gotten himself into now?

~*~*~*~

By the time Phil arrived at his house at the edge of the suburbs, all three kids were out cold in his backseat. He stood at the open back door for a moment before sighing and lugging first Robin, then Eddie, then Steve into his living room, huffing with exertion all the while. He would definitely have to cut back on the station donuts and start exercising again. Right after he dealt with the dying fugitive on his brother’s couch, the blood seeping through Steve’s shirt, and his brother’s unconscious best friend that was snoring atrociously. 

Jesus Christ. 

Well, he had plenty of practice with medical care from his EMT training so he got to work. He got the first aid kit out of the squad car and started with the murderous Munson. Phil didn’t know what had happened to these kids but it couldn’t be any good. Munson’s entire torso was torn apart like he’d been gnawed on by a wild animal. It wasn’t bleeding too bad but he was missing chunks of skin, so much so that Phil couldn’t sew him up with just sutures. Hell, this kid was going to need skin grafts. A lot of them. 

He put gauze on the worst of the wounds then cautiously stepped over to Steve. What he’d seen on Munson made him hesitant to look at the damage but surely it couldn’t be worse than that. Right? As soon as he lifted Steve’s shirt, he came immediately to two conclusions. 

1. Steve had a lot more chest hair than he did and that was totally unfair.

2. The wounds on Steve’s abdomen were deep, infected, and horrific. 

Just like with Munson, there was nothing to close. All he saw were missing chunks of skin and muscle that should have been in his sides. The marred remains were covered in grime and yellowish puss that made the entire room smell of infection. 

Fuck, he couldn’t help them here. He had to get them, all three of them because he wasn’t touching an unconscious girl for anything, to a hospital. But that begged the question; which hospital? Munson… Eddie was wanted all through the state of Indiana for at least three murders and an assault. If he took him to any nearby hospital, he would be arrested and surely there was more to the story if Steve was protecting him so much. He couldn’t let one of Steve’s only friends get arrested without hearing the story from the both of them. 

He had to take these three up to a hospital in Illinois. Chicago was roughly four hours away, he knew from his and Steve’s annual visits to their great aunt in Evanston. It was a risk, both for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive as well as hoping he survived that long of a drive, but his gut told him to trust his brother on this one. So that’s what he did. He loaded the three teens back into his patrol car and mumbled swears under his breath when he passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign. He hoped to all that was mighty that he was making a good call. 

~*~*~*~

Steve woke up to familiar voices; one hushed and one screeching. 

“You kidnapped them?! You’re a cop, I thought you would help them but instead you drove them all the way to goddamn Chicago like some middle-aged pervert loser?” Steve came around to a loud argument between what sounded like Dustin and Phil. It was weird though because he’d never introduced the two. 

“Hey, listen here shithead, words hurt. I am not middle-aged, I’m 28. And why would I kidnap my own brother? I can legally take him anywhere, it's practically my birthright. I don’t have to go through all the work of kidnapping him.” Phil shook his head at Dustin.

“Stop trying to trick me, I know Eddie is an only child!”

“Munson?! I’m Steve’s big brother, you little gremlin. Can’t you see the resemblance?” He gestured between where Steve was groggily looking up at him and then back at himself. 

“No, but I can’t see anything past your outrageous mustache.” Steve saw Phil’s jaw drop and knew that Dustin had crossed a line. 

“You short fucker, that is too far! I take a lot of pride in this ‘outrageous mustache’,” Phil put air quotes around the offending remake before pointing an aggressive finger in Dustin’s direction. “I will absolutely take you off the visitation list, toothless. Do not test me.” 

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll report you to the authorities!” Dustin countered. 

“I am the authorities!” Phil dropped all decorum and screamed at practically the top of his lungs. 

Sensing enough was enough, Steve tried to push himself up to a sitting position before a burning in his sides caused him to fall back down. Both men (or one man and Dustin) stopped their squabbling and rushed to his sides.

“Steve, you’re hurt so don’t try to get up. Shit kid, let me get a nurse or something. You weren’t doing too hot.” With that Phil sprinted out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s station and Steve was left with Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin. 

He looked blearily at all of them before asking the most important question, “where’s Eddie?”

They all parted to reveal Eddie lying in the bed next to him. His neck and chest were covered with bandages but his face looked peaceful. There were no cuffs on his wrists as Steve assumed there would be. He laid back again and let out a sigh. Everything was as it should be, he could finally relax.

“Um so Steve, don’t be mad but your brother can be really persuasive when he wants to be and you never introduced him as your brother so I just kind of assumed that we were getting captured by the police and that it was going to be so much worse than the Russians because I always thought Officer Callahan was kind of psycho. But then I woke up here and he bought me Cheetos so everything is fine. Except it's kind of not because you and Eddie have been out for a couple of days and I told Big Not-Harrington about the Upside Down and now he’s really worried. Why did you have to stay asleep so long, dingus? I missed you!”

Steve honestly zoned out when he heard “Cheetos” and only tuned back in when Robin, the usual physical affection-hater, threw herself on top of him in a hug. He withheld the grunt of pain and held her back just as hard. 

“What the hell just happened, bro? Like that was a lot of words, little bird lady. Woah.”

Steve didn’t know if he was hallucinating the long-haired surfer in a Hawaiian outfit or if Vecna had somehow managed to melt his mind after all but he had never been more confused in his life to see the new visitor make themselves known. 

“Who the fuck is that?” He muttered in absolute bafflement. 

Dustin sighed as he too wrestled a hug from Steve, “that’s Argyle. Come on, Steve. Keep up.”

“Like the sock pattern? How many drugs am I on right now?!”

~*~*~*~

“... and that’s kind of why I didn’t tell you about the Upside Down,” Steve finished from his seat beside Eddie, their hands tangled together as they both sat across from Phil. 

He looked at both of them with a completely deadpan stare. “Again, but the truth this time.”

Eddie huffed in annoyance. “We are telling you the truth, man! An evil wizard guy named Vecna-”

“Slash Henry, slash One,” Steve and Robin interjected in unison.

“-possessed four teenagers to end the world or something and broke their bodies apart with his mind. Then the angry mob thought it was me but I would never kill anyone, especially not Chrissy. She was always really nice to me and remembered my band from the talent show in middle school. And then we got stuck in Hell where evil demon bats ate our flesh and tentacles ripped through the earth. Then we saved Nancy from the evil mind melt powers by playing her favorite song. After that, we made a plan and she shot Vecna and killed him while Dustin and I were decoys where I was attacked.”

“Then I went back for Eddie and carried him out where you almost ran us over. The end,” Steve emphasized the finale with a deliberate nod of his still-aching head. 

Phil looked at them with the most exasperation Steve had ever seen in his life. He let out a pitying chuckle, his poor brother didn’t sign up for this. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Phil's eyes rolled so hard that Steve could tell he saw stars. He could almost see the scream being prepared in his throat and couldn't gather enough strength to escape it.

"STEVEN MICHAEL HARRINGTON, WHAT THE MOTHERLOVING FUCK?!"

"Look Philly, I'll say it one more time then I'm done, okay? It first started way back when Will Byers went missing in 1983..."

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#Phil gets Eddie's name cleared by walking into the station and telling Powell it wasn't him #Powell is so fucking stressed that he just drops it and blames Jason when Phil suggests it #As soon as they're all healed up Phil gives Eddie the shovel talk of all shovel talks feat. his gun #Eddie hands him a donut and all is forgotten #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #officer phil callahan #officer callahan is steve’s brother #it took me so long to write this and I still don't know if I like it

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1,588

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: shoutout to my first member on BuyMeACoffee - Em! Thank you so much for your support, you've given me the motivation for this story 😊 // This is where the angst starts guys! Hope you all like this one Xx

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

<- PART 3

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

Then - 

“Please give me a few minutes, Chris, I’ll come find you.” He gives you one final look, asking indirectly if you’re sure, and you nod with reassurance before he leaves.

“So Y/N, is it?” Dean asks, and you bite your lip.

“Yup. I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

Now - 

“Sure we do. Is he your boyfriend?” Dean asks, glancing at the door that Chris just walked through.

“We have an arrangement.” You shrug, at which he exhales, as if out of relief.

You take a deep breath. “How about we chat somewhere else?”

Dean peers around like he just realized the murky alley you are in. “In the diner?” 

You shake your head. “Nope, lots of nosy people in a small town like this. Are you staying here for long?” 

It’s his turn to shake his head. “We are checking something fishy in the next town, we were just gonna eat and pass this one. Destiny I guess.”

Snorting you think, fuck destiny. You don’t want to make it feel any more real.

“There is a motel next door. Tell Gale my name and get a room for you, my shift ends in two hours.” 

You watch Dean talk for a bit while they eat and then walk out of the diner together, his eyes watching you until he no longer can.

Chris keeps on peeking at you throughout your shift, and you can’t blame him. The way the day had started did not give you a clue on what fate had in store for you.

You find yourself sighing a lot, but still have a fake smile plastered on to keep your patrons happy and get tips. Apart from this, you keep tuning out as you rely on muscle memory for the rest of the shift.

Panicking internally, while you try to be ready for the two serious conversations that are in store for you, and the first comes as you’re cleaning a table at the end of the day.

“Y/N?” Chris’s voice takes you out of your reverie, and you mentally prepare not to cry.

You two are alone in the diner, and although the last few weeks consisted of this alone time filled with kisses, this one is full of uneasiness. You hum and decide to focus on a particularly stubborn spot on the table.

“When were you going to tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” You still don’t look at him.

“About your soulmate.”

The dryness of your mouth is a telltale of your anxiety, and you gulp before answering. “I talked to him for the first time today.”

“And I’m sure it won’t be the last.” 

The crack in his voice finally makes you swivel and meet his gaze, seeing him to be on the verge of breaking down and your heart officially breaks for the first time.

“Chris, come on. I am not going anywhere” You keep the rag down, wipe your hands and close the distance between you before cradling his face.

Although you know that sentence holds no weight, all you want to do is comfort the guy who has opened his home and heart for you.

He kisses the palms of your hands as his hands encircle your waist. The way he tugs at you to get you just that little bit closer tells you that he doesn’t want to let you go, but he's made up his mind to.

“It’s not that complicated,” You try to interrupt him, but he shushes you with a kiss before continuing. “And you don’t have anything to explain. You met your soulmate, and you deserve to be happy with him.”

His intense blue eyes stare deep within your soul, and you’re afraid he’ll see how downright scared out of your wits you are.

“I have the option not to be with him, I’m pretty happy with you.” You say, and there are tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to come out.

You try to pick words that will minimize the hurt, but you know there’s not much you can do. It’s his way of saying goodbye, his way for closure.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” You ask in a lighter tone.

“I have. It’s not like I could just not pay attention to your little gasps at odd times.” He says. “You should tell Dean not to get into trouble so much, seeing as it hurts you too.” 

You giggle, as if you could tell a hunter to stay safe.

“I don’t deserve your kindness, Chris.” You mutter, and the dimples that you like so much appear on his cheeks.

“I just knew this day would come sometime or the later, I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.” 

This man has literally changed the way you see love, and if you hadn’t been so blinded by your quest to stay hiding from your soulmate, you would have realized it sooner.

“Besides,” he begins again, “I’m glad you found your soulmate before I found mine, it would’ve been harder for me to let go.” 

You and me both, you reply internally. But you settle on saying, “You are making it harder right now.” 

Chris chuckles, “it’s alright. I’ll be fine. Promise me you will take care.”

“Don’t say it like we’ll never see each other again,” you hit him softly.

“I have a feeling we’ll be very different people if we ever do.” He tightens the hug and you wrap your hands around him. “Go now.”

For the very first time since you’ve met Chris, he’s the first one to let go in a hug - and you don’t let go until you feel ready, the cloth of his shirt getting wet with your stray tears.

The walk to the motel has worn you down, but you know nothing can be harder than what you’ve just given up on with Chris.

Gale gives you a side eye when you ask where the two guys are situated. You pay no heed, just walking on towards Dean’s room and taking a deep breath before knocking.

“You’re here.” Dean says when he opens the door for you, and you muster up a smile.

“I’m here.” You repeat. 

He moves to the side, letting you in his two singles room.

Everything is clean and the beds made, like they haven’t used it at all, and the man with him is nowhere to be seen.

“You’re alone?” You ask, just to make sure.

“Yeah, Sam went out for a run.”

“Is he your partner?” This question echoes the same conviction like one he had asked about Chris.

He shakes his head with a disgusted look while leading you to sit on one of the beds before sitting opposite to you. “He’s my younger brother, we hunt together.”

“I see. So-”

“So-” You two start simultaneously, and laugh.

“You first.” Dean insists.

“Okay,” You bite your bottom lip, not knowing how he was going to take this, especially with the glance at your lips, but you have to say it. 

“Listen, Dean. As glad as I am that we found each other,” No, it’s all a lie. I wish we never met. “I cannot commit. I don’t want to be in a relationship.” I’m scared of getting hurt.

Seeming disheartened, he averts his eyes, “I understand. Where do you want to go from here?”

“I honestly don’t know.” You respond, “I mean, we can start from being friends? Get to know each other?”

You don’t know why but you feel like you owe him that much. 

Or rather, you owe it to Chris to try at the very least.

But when you had met Dean a few hours ago, there was a shine of hope and excitement in his eyes on finally finding a soulmate which you knew you never had. 

“I can work with that.” There is a flicker of a smile on his face. “So, not in the hunting game anymore?”

“Nope, had some personal reasons.” I met you. “I think I want to get in again.”

 “You can join us on this one.” Dean suggests, his hands fumbling with the buttons on his flannel. 

“Sam won’t mind?” 

He snorts, shaking his head. “He won’t.”

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Sharp at 9. Looking forward to it.” Dean gives you a toothy smile.

When you pull the door close behind you, you hear a soft murmur of ‘Looking forward to it… Couldn’t think of something better? Dumbass.’

You make the short walk from the motel to your shared apartment with Chris which is pretty much uneventful. But then, when you’re walking up the stairs, you end up meeting him just as he’s walking downstairs.

You’re both awkward as you stop.

“I - uh, saw your stuff was still in.”

“Yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” You look him up and down, wanting to remember him as he is for as long as you can.

There he stands, a good foot taller than you, in his usual jacket over a printed T-shirt style. A smile that was usually goofy was replaced with one tinged with sadness, one that didn’t reach his beautiful blue eyes as you are used to.

“You take care now, Y/N. And you can leave the keys next to our bed when you leave.” 

“Of course,” you nod with trepidation.

Chris takes your hand in his, and it’s when you notice the night bag on his shoulder. “Y/N just… Please don’t forget me.”

“I don’t think I can even if I wanted to, Chris. What you gave me, what we had, was special.” You try to soothe him with a quick squeeze.

With a last peck as he crosses you, he exchanges way more emotions than words ever could and finally bids you farewell. 

Part 5 (Coming Soon on Tumblr/ Read it on BuyMeACoffee Now!)

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I just started a BuyMeACoffee Page where you can read Chapter 4 right now! Its kind of an emotional one where you have a difficult conversation which will determine where you will go from here.

My Page also has the first chapter of a new Dean Winchester X Reader story with the following summary:

Best friends Dean and Y/N navigate a world of supernatural challenges and unspoken feelings. Sam, the ever observant brother, and Cas, the ever puzzled angel of the lord, discreetly encourage their romance through late-night talks, teasing, and shared hunts. As tension builds and emotions simmer beneath the surface, their journey unfolds through this story.

READ IT HERE- SECRETS OF A HUNTER’S HEART

Find out what else I offer on my buymeacoffee page - HERE

It’s okay if you can’t support me monetory-wise right now, even reblogging my fics help a lot!

Tags in reblog, please reblog this fic if you wanna be tagged in the next part Xx

Thank you so much for your support ♥

Yours Truly,

Vee 💕

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x yn #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester soulmates au #dean winchester soulmates #dean winchester series #supernatural series #dean winchester x reader series #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester x reader au #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader soulmates

[honeybrowne]

Day 6: Coffee

JOEL MILLER X GN!READER [0.7k]

Content: Tess doesn't exist in this; brief allusion to addiction/drug use; platonic relationship (but they're pining in my head)

Summary: Who would have thought that Joel Miller would know how you like your coffee?

Author's Note: Firstly, thank you to @spacecowboyhotch for being an amazing beta and hyping me up more than I deserve <3 ily. This is my first time writing for Joel, so i'm nervous but would love to hear your thoughts!

Masterlist || FF Masterlist

If there's one thing that's harder than surviving in the world you live in, it's getting sleep.

You were young when the outbreak happened, but not young enough that you don't remember the terror you felt fleeing your hometown and getting separated from your family.

That infamous day is ingrained in your memory—you think about it every day. You think about your parents and your older sister, wondering what had happened to them.

Did they survive outbreak day?

If they did, are they still alive?

Your mind never sleeps, which means that you don't, either.

Coffee is a must have for you; you rely on the much-needed boost from the caffeine, and considering the types of substances that get smuggled into the QZ on a weekly basis, you figure it isn't the worst thing to depend on.

It's only a bad thing when the supply is scarce, or more recently, nonexistent.

The day you'd been dreading and doing your best to avoid had inevitably come. You officially ran out of coffee, and while you're aware of how inconsequential that is in comparison to everything else that's wrong with the world, you can't help but feel a little upset.

Fortunately, your roommate is a smuggler, and can likely get you almost anything you need if you asked him to.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to like you.

The smoky and earthy scent of fresh brewed coffee floats through the air of your tiny shared apartment every morning, causing the pounding of your head to increase tenfold. You can feel yourself become more irritable as the days go by, and you're constantly one minor inconvenience away from falling into a puddle of frustrated tears.

It's absolutely miserable and you hate it.

This morning is no exception. Joel is up and going before you can even manage to get out of bed. He isn't necessarily noisy as he prepares his breakfast, but he also doesn't try to be quiet.

A cabinet door slams as you exit your room, and your head throbs.

"Would it kill you to keep it down?" you complain, closing your eyes as you rub at your temples.

He's tempted to remind you that you aren't innocent of slamming doors, and tend to do it more frequently than he does. The words are on the tip of his tongue as he lifts his gaze from the coffee pot in front of him.

The pronounced grimace on your face stops him and it actually makes him feel bad.

You maneuver through the kitchen purely from muscle-memory, considering you haven't bothered to open your eyes yet. When you get close to running into the corner of the island, he instinctively puts his hand over the sharp edge, but he pulls it away before you have the chance to see.

"Made you some."

A mug is in your grasp before you fully register what's going on, a furrow pulling at your brows once the realization hits you.

"You made me coffee?" you ask, having a hard time believing he'd be so giving on his own.

"You ain't very pleasant when you're in withdrawal," he explains.

He's one to talk.

A scoff leaves your lips. "Like you're all sunshine and rainbows when you haven't had your fix."

Joel glares at you the same way he always does, and you hide your amused smile behind the rim of the mug, though the crinkle of your eyes gives you away. The sip you take is tentative, concerned he might be trying to poison you.

Oddly enough, it tastes exactly the same as when you make it yourself... if not better.

"How'd you know how I like my coffee?" you wonder, taking a more generous sample this time, the beverage warming your cold body swiftly.

He doesn't answer, and plates his breakfast instead.

"Do you secretly pay attention to me?" you press with a lopsided grin.

He acknowledges you this time with a scoff of his own. "This world has made me crazy, but not that crazy."

One cup of glorious coffee later and you're feeling significantly better and unusually thankful for your grouchy roommate. The process of getting dressed for the day moves a lot smoother than it has the past week. You feel refreshed, the headache you've been fighting nearly a distant memory.

"D'you grab your gloves?" Joel asks as you follow him out the door.

With your lack of energy and coherency, you'd been particularly forgetful and had left your gloves behind a few times in the last week. He looks a little embarrassed once he realizes what he said, and even more so when you start to tease him.

"Yes, thank you for your concern. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Don't start."

Taglist: @spacecowboyhotch

#doctorstethsfluffyfeb #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller scenario #joel miller imagine #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #.writing

[coconutcordiale]

tailspin pt four (this is how a heart breaks)

pt one | pt two | pt three | pt four | masterlist | sequel

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female bartender!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“The only way out is through.”

“Robert Frost, really? Cheesy.”

warnings- discussions of cheating & affairs, heartbreak, heavy & unhealthy drinking to deal with emotional issues, jake is an asshole, at this point I might be the toxic one because I'm basically giving you an unresolved story oh well

length- 1.5k words HA

an- uh, I’m really sorry. If you liked this fic you’ll probably hate me for this final part for hangman x reader. I promise there’s a happy ending in store for my favorite bartender in the sequel

edit: sequel has been posted!

You’ve never lived anywhere except California, but now, having all but imploded your life, seems as good a time as any to change that. Beth calls you three minutes after the text is sent.

“Shauna quit last week,” she says, over the noise of her bar. “Come stay with me until you find a place. You’d be helping me out, really, it’s hard to keep good bartenders around here.”

Thank God for Beth and her ability to lie through her teeth so you don’t feel guilty asking for her help. 

It’s Florida, so your immediate plans of bawling your eyes out while breathing in the ocean, toes in the sand, are still intact. You figure your heart can be shattered into a million little pieces on any beach in the country. You just hope 2,800 miles is far enough. 

The next day you sit down with Penny before the Hard Deck opens, knowing this will be the second hardest goodbye you have to face.

“I’ve been having an affair with Hangman,” you tell her, apropos of nothing, looking anywhere except her eyes.

Penny’s mouth is agape.

“I have to—I can’t—,” you take a deep breath, trying to keep some semblance of self-control. “Be here. I can’t be here, I don’t trust myself, I know I’ll go back to him. I tried to end it, but I always go back. My friend Beth owns a bar in the Keys, I need a fresh start.”

She puts her hands over yours that are dancing nervously on the table, “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Don’t worry about us. Do what you need to do.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling guilty anyways.

“I miss you already,” she smiles sadly.

You miss her too. You’ve missed her for months while you were busy in this tailspin, heading straight towards the ground.

In your rush to leave and start packing your life up you still have keys to the Hard Deck, which dawns on you a few hours later. You head back and let out a sigh of relief when you don’t see Jake’s truck, figuring he’s avoiding you here too, even though he knows it’s your day off.

You’re not that lucky, of course, and his piercing green eyes are the first thing you see when you walk in.

“I’m sorry,” Penny says immediately, turning her back to him and crossing the bar to you. “I didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her, not meaning it for a single second.

You peek over her shoulder at him; he’s drunk. It’s easy to tell, he rarely gets visibly intoxicated, too concerned with keeping up appearances. He’s not fun drunk either, if the anger set in his jaw is anything to go by.

What you don’t know is that he drank with a mission tonight, the only objective being to get so obliterated that he wouldn’t see your face every time he closed his eyes. He’s pissed because it didn’t work and now, he hates how much he wishes you were here.

By the time his wish is granted he’s cursing himself for not going somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t remind him so much of you, but this was the only place he trusted himself to be able to stumble home from, figured his drunk self could rely on muscle memory from how much time he’s spent making the trek. He’s cursing you, for having wormed your way into every inch of his mind, thinking about how much easier it would be if he had never met you. At least then he wouldn’t know what he’s missing.

“I was about to call him a cab, if you want to stay,” she offers.

You slide the key over to her. “No, wanted to return this before I forgot.” You spare another glance at him, heart heavy. “I’ll take him home.”

Penny’s eyes widen. “That is a terrible idea, one of your worst.”

“I haven’t told him.”

You can tell she wants to say something else, to convince you now isn’t the time, but she must see the determined look on your face and think better of it.

You promise her you’ll call her on your way to Florida before making your way to Jake.

“Time to go,” you inform him, voice similar to that commanding tone that usually works on you.

Jake doesn’t put up a fight, surprisingly amenable and you hope that you’ve read into the hard line in his jaw. He follows you out and gets into your car without so much as a grumble. You have to physically stamp down on the urge to take him to your apartment, a reflex after all this time.

He’s looking over at you from the passenger seat, your eyes decidedly fixed on the road, and his rage grows irrationally at how beautiful you look with only the moon and streetlights illuminating your profile. When he looks at you, seemingly composed, he wants you to hurt at least half as much as he does. 

His heart is being ripped out of his chest and he can’t breathe and he’s furious with you, for leaving him, for being witty and charming and tougher than you even realize, for granting him with the sweet and soft parts of you, for being so perfect that he couldn’t help but fall for you, for forcing him to go back to his dull suburban life with no reprieve. 

Maybe that makes him a selfish asshole. He doesn’t care. 

You’re staring at the road, counting houses that go by, houses you wouldn't dare to wish you could live in with Jake, and hoping by not looking at him this might be easier.

“I know we already ended this, but I thought I should tell you, given how we feel about each other—"

“How we feel about each other?” He sneers as he cuts you off, getting an ugly look on his face, and you know, instinctively, that this is going to hurt. “You really think I have feelings for you?”

You blink.

Your hands start to shake with the knowledge that he’s lying, that you both have the same kind of suffering running through your veins and you didn’t make that up, you know that he’s only trying to hit you where it hurts.

That knowledge doesn’t make the words feel anything less like glass being grated into your skin. 

“What, did you think I was gonna fall in love with you or something?” He continues. “It was sex, sweetheart. You always knew what you were getting into.”

“I’m moving,” you tell him, wind knocked out of you, barely above a whisper. 

“You’ll be back,” he counters icily. “Begging for my cock like you always do. For me to fuck you like no one else can.”

Wordlessly, you drive him back to his house because you’re not strong enough to kick him out of the car, leave him to pass out and die in a ditch. You watch him stagger into his home, to his wife and child, never once looking back at you. 

This is how a heart breaks.  

•••

You’re in Texas by the time Penny gets a call from you. 

“He seemed shocked when I told him you left, maybe he was too drunk for that conversation.”

Penny swears she can hear you rolling your eyes through the phone, and her hope ignites at the idea that your fire may be coming back. 

She watched, for months, as you tried to make yourself smaller and smaller, until all that was left was a shell of your former self. She didn’t know what was going on, tried to silently extend her support and be there when you needed her. She knows your tendency to retreat when tough conversations come about, so she never knew how to bring it up. 

When you told her about Hangman, all the puzzle pieces clicked together. 

“That just means he didn’t think I’d do it, not that he didn’t remember,” you answer, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

What, did you think I was gonna fall in love with you or something?

You squeeze your eyes shut tight against the Texas heat, hoping the stars in your eyes will wipe the memory clouding your vision.

“What, he thought you were lying?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, unable to keep the bitter edge out of your tone, “No, he didn’t think I’d actually pick me over him.”

You two settle into a brief, comfortable silence, your mind starting to wander again, to bright green eyes and perfectly coifed blonde hair when Penny says your name, pulling you out of your reverie.

“I’m proud of you,” Penny says and you try to ignore the melancholy tinge coming through the phone. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“We blew past the right thing nearly a year ago, Pen.”

“Regardless.” She doesn’t bother to indulge your pity party. “Mav has a friend there, he—”

“Absolutely not,” you interrupt. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I need as much space from the U.S. Navy as possible right now.”

“And you chose Key West?” she asks, lighter now, slight tease in her voice.

In your mind you can see her, sitting outside on the beach, papers strewn in front of her while she pretends to work, breeze blowing through her brown waves. Your heart wrenches at the thought, wishing you could be there with her like you would be, if you weren't so busy running away.

“I know,” you groan. “I have a limited number of friends that own bars and won’t fire me when I’m too busy bawling to come into work.”

Penny tries not to let her voice change too much as she envisions that awful picture you’ve just painted for her. “The only way out is through.”

“Robert Frost, really? Cheesy.”

She smiles from California, more hope blooming in her chest. 

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman angst #hangman top gun #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin angst #hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic

[lacefuneral]

talking abt the drawings

ok so.

i've had chronic pain for as long as i can remember. in high school i literally walked around with a wrist brace on each hand 24/7

despite this, i really wanted to go into art. and i did. i managed to get into art school, studied for 5 years, and earned my degree.

my chronic pain was always there, but when i was on T, weirdly, it lessened. that made it easier to do studio work. with T, though, i had a lot of other medical issues, and decided to stop it in my final year.

regardless of pain, i've always had a "craft" issue. that's what professors referred to it as. it's like... you struggle to color in the lines. when you fold a paper it's crooked. when you trim a print it isn't a perfect rectangle. and anyone who has ever received a wrapped present from me will know. it's like, the messiest thing you've ever seen.

i've always had some kind of like. fine motor difficulty. and that never went way even with my training. in many cases, it resulted in lower grades. but i just kept going.

and i'm unsure if it's due to craft or something else, but i was never a strong illustrator. and that's not too uncommon for some graphic designers. illustration and graphic design are different tracks, even. a lot of us rely on shapes, typography, and patterns instead of very elaborate drawings.

the pandemic (and other circumstances) uprooted my life. instead of going right into a graphic design internship, i was jobless and stuck at home. i sank into a deep depression, and my pain worsened to the point where making art even for fun hurt my body too much.

i think the first time i bothered to try traditional art again was when i made a portrait of my ex boyfriend a couple of years ago, but then i stagnated again.

and right now, i'm in a period of my life where choosing to live each day is very, very hard. but i want to. and i want to try to make art. so i am challenging myself to draw as much as possible. i'm being mindful of my pain and stopping when i need to. and i'm trying to be kind to myself. even if the craft is bad (it will be) and if the end result is Bad Art. because making Bad Art is okay, and because i'm trying to regain muscle memory i lost years ago, and improve upon it.

this is a new medium, too. i have never worked with markers previously. my traditional 2D art was always pencils, pens, charcoal, or acrylic paint. the markers i have are very cheap, and marketed as highlighters for books, not as drawing materials. i'm taking advantage of the pastels, and challenging myself with the limited color palette.

i'm having fun so far. i was always scared of markers for some reason. maybe because "real" brush markers are expensive. maybe because markers have a reputation through bleeding through paper (which i've since learned is often a paper issue, not a marker one.) and i think the permanence, too. i can't erase a mark after i make it. but that's letting me sit with my mistakes.

[tranquilpetrichor]

perfectly imperfect

synopsis: in which yunho helps you let go of your fears, one 8-count at a time.

cast: dancer!yunho (ateez) x dancer!reader, mentions of other ateez members.

genre: comfort, some fluff, friendship with implication of a mutual crush

wc: 1.7k

warnings: some negative self-talk, descriptions of physical exhaustion, cursing, some parts not proofread

a/n: sometimes we do indeed get lost in our own heads. there's so much to think about when you dance for a class/career lol but honestly at its purest form (for me) dance should make you feel good. also. there's such a fun feeling fooling around with people after dance practice. anyways enough from me! this one is a little rough, sorry y'all. school is annoying.

taglist: @restlessmaknae

remember what yunho told you. try not to rely on the mirror.

your arm glided above your head, creating an invisible semi-circle as you went through a choreography your friend, yunho had taught you. after finishing the routine, you collapsed on the floor near your phone, and with a bit of effort, stopped the video that was recording.

time to review the footage. having exerted yourself to your last breath, you were more than happy to have a reason to sit down.

"oh? what the hell," you frowned at your screen and made a disgusted face—anyone looking at you probably would have thought you ate something rotten. you might as well have.

your angles weren't clean enough. that part should have been smoother. right arm, not left! yeah, you spent a good few minutes rewinding that damn video. just to make sure you weren’t missing anything, you watched it again while you were rolling out the arches of your feet with a tennis ball.

you hoped that you'd execute yunho's choreography well enough to use for an audition, but right now things weren't looking great.

the door opened, and yunho walked in, noticing how tired you were. he still appeared upbeat, even though you knew he was probably exhausted too. "y/n! thought we were, uh, taking a break."

a sigh escaped your lips. "well, i was. but after you left, i just wanted to run the dance one more time. for myself."

he began to stretch some more, and you couldn't help but always be quietly amazed by how graceful he was. "i expected that," he said with a shrug. "you've always been a perfectionist. one more minute to rest, and then we'll run the choreography again."

you went over it in your head, methodically addressing your mistakes and praying there would be no stupid gaps in your memory when it was actually time to dance.

yunho walked over to the laptop and pressed play, with "hymn for the weekend" by coldplay blasting out the speakers, and then he went to go sit in the corner.

okay, what do i have to remember?

for one, the dance started on an odd count—leave it to yunho to make things unpredictable for you. and he choreographed it mostly to beats in the instrumental, so that's what you were going to focus on this time.

"1, 2, and 3!"

flick, flick, 6 and 7, 8. through, down, 3, 4. fuck, is this even supposed to be the hand detail? whatever.

and before you knew it, you were finished. everything felt practiced, and you thought the dance went slightly better than last time.

perhaps you could chalk it up to muscle memory—thank god that existed! still, there was always something you could fix, but for the moment, you took a sip of water from your bottle, grateful for its cool temperature.

yunho went over to stop the music. "alright, so that was better. definitely! maybe a few details that still need a bit of work, but you definitely know the dance. the major comment i have is relax, y/n. please. i can see you’re not dancing in the moment.”

that was still one of your major flaws—that your brain refused to be at peace. your thoughts felt like a constant whir, hyper-focused on the nitty-gritty of whatever you were doing. that was nice and all when you were reviewing someone else’s dancing, but it seemed to hinder your own.

“i guess habits really are hard to break,” you said, laying on the floor with a groan.

he sat beside you, and you instinctively steadied yourself using his shoulder, almost all of your adrenaline gone. you began to think of all the things you forgot to do during the dance, and remembered yunho's comment about not dancing in the moment.

what am i, a deer lost in headlights?

your thoughts were interrupted by him, probably for the better. “don’t beat yourself up about it. i know you, and you’re trying. you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. and you’re improving—anyone with eyes can see it.”

instinctively, you looked away from him, down at some speck of dust on the floor. “maybe? i think? i’m not as good as you though, great yunho-ssaem."

humor always diffuses a situation, right?

yunho gently turned you to face him and laughed, but it wasn't out of malice. “don't discredit yourself like that! none of us are perfect—i’m still learning, myself.”

for his youthful energy, he was actually quite wise in his mindset, which is why you trusted him a lot, along with the fact that him being almost a year older wasn't so significant for you.

“i mean, i know you’re right, but clearly i still can't fix my problem.”

he gave a mock gasp. “but of course, i’m right, y/n. no, but seriously. knowing you have a problem is half the battle. some of us never get to that. give yourself time to grow."

you gave yunho a fist bump, and a quick hug. "god, you're the best. what the hell would i do without you?"

it was his turn to look slightly embarrassed, cheeks slightly flushed from the compliment.

"haha, thanks y/n, i try my best. anyways, forget that shit about me being perfect. did i ever tell you about the time i did a duet with mingi but started my section a few counts too early?”

you shuddered and gave him a sympathetic look. "i would rather start late than early, honestly. everyone can see an early start.”

“hey, i did just fine after! and at least it was just a practice. mingi sent the video to me. i'll show you," he said, taking out his phone.

you never missed a chance to learn from other people’s work when it came to dance, and watching videos was a great way to learn.

he stood up and lifted his hand way above your head with a teasing grin. screw tall people.

you jumped, but it didn't get you that far off of the ground. “yun-hoe! oh my god, stop being tall.”

“you’re not even that short,” he said, laughing at you. “but i’ll still always be taller than you.”

“i hate you."

after you gave one more playful attempt to swipe the phone, he finally sat down, scrolling through his camera roll. “look, now you can see how unorganized and chaotic everything is. there's wooyoung twerking, you and san trying to flip—ah, found it."

"haha, you can send me that video of wooyoung later."

yunho laughed. "maybe."

he clicked the duet and the video began to play, starting off with shakiness as a pair of hands attempted to adjust the camera’s position.

you could hear yunho’s laugh. “mingi, stop touching it. i think it’s good now. let’s go!”

“i guess you're right, fighting!”

the two stood side by side, with shared smiles. you knew that feeling well. dance friends were the best.

and then there was the part yunho had mentioned: his early start. it was sorta cute, as he realized he was off the counts and jumped back to his starting position. it would easily be embarrassing for you, but he laughed it off easily.

mingi slapped him on the back in the video. “damn, dude. you got on my ass for missing the timing and here you are.”

after, yunho went to restart the music, grinning. "just remember that i’m older than you, mingi. shut it!”

“it's only by a couple of months!”

the two returned to dancing, this time, starting perfectly in sync. you could feel joy radiating off of the two, and it was clear they loved every second of what they did. you clapped eagerly for them, amazed by how in command of themselves they were.

yunho turned to you after the video ended.

"look, that was only the tip of the iceberg of my embarrassing mistakes. and that wasn't even that bad so far." he laughed sheepishly before continuing.

"but at least, there isn't a person in the world who's perfect. why worry so much about that when you could enjoy yourself? it naturally makes your dancing that much better, too."

he went to grab his laptop, typed some stuff in and handed it to you. "remember our playlist? let's shuffle it and have a freestyle battle! and we could get bbq after. my treat.."

you perked up, especially at the thought of food. he was definitely trying to distract you from your endless thoughts, but you didn't mind, not today.

"you're on. rock-paper-scissors, loser goes first!"

"one, two, three, shoot!" you both yelled, and you shrugged, as you'd lost to him.

"see, rock always wins! do your worst," yunho said.

“i will.”

to your delight, the first song that came on shuffle was a childhood favorite of yours—umbrella by rihanna. it had gone on your shared playlist as soon as you rediscovered the catchy tune.

you started to dance, and although your moves were somewhat slow, they still had a fervent energy to them. everything moved of its own accord. really; the only way to describe it was that there was an amazing sensation you felt every once in a while, when the music could guide you to become a different person entirely.

that was stupidly cheesy, you knew. but it was good to feel so free. it was possible for you.

"okay, then!" yunho yelled after your two 8-counts were over, hyping you up. "that's what i'm talking about! but i'll still kick your ass."

you laughed, glad that you could tease someone, but all in good fun. "we'll see about that."

it was his turn to show off, and he didn't even need to do anything fancy. whether the audience was ten, a hundred, or there wasn't one at all, he performed. the energy he had electrified the room, every kick and flick of the hand holding meaning.

no one's perfect. give it time. you'll get there, you reminded yourself. normally, you'd try to compare yourself to dancers like yunho, the ones who seemed like they had it all. their skills wouldn't stop you from becoming the best dancer you could be, enjoying yourself along the way. there were always going to be things you wished were better, but worrying ate away at your mental health.

in the background, the music continued, its beat making you sway with ease, and suddenly, all that mattered was this moment of two imperfect dancers sharing their craft.

#ficscafe #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez yunho #ateez #ateez x atiny #ateez reactions #ateez angst #jeong yunho #tranquilpetrichorfic

[robotslenderman]

Today sucked.

Final report: Driving was way more stressful than anticipated. Tbh I think it was more the car than the UK roads; if I was driving my mother’s car I think I would have been stressed but fine, but that car is like an extension of my own limbs when I’m in it and I wear it like a second skin; I know its quirks, its exact dimensions, what it can do and what it’s capable of and how it moves. I can get it easily into and out of such tight spaces and make quick dashes and tight squeezes when other people balk.

Trying to compensate for the dramatic change of conditions I’m used to by relying on that muscle memory and instincts of how my mum’s car works was failing so that only stressed me out far more.

It was a smart car. This bugged the shit out of me because smart cars don’t respond quickly to sudden acceleration from a stop - the engines turn off when the cars idle, which adds a second of response time. So there were a couple of times where I had space or time to make a dash across traffic, but only if the car responded quickly - so I’d try to go across, the car wouldn’t go, then by the time it started it was too dangerous to go ahead so I’d balk. This happened THREE TIMES at my first right hand turn and I was dangerously inched into traffic from the aborted attempts but visibility was bad and it was too dangerous to really go, but if it kept happening then I’d have REALLY been in danger.

That’s just one example but there were quite a few; trying to make quick defensive merges was another. I’d turn on the windscreen wipers instead and the “WTF?” that ensued was distracting at a time I shouldn’t have been distracted.

Got better towards the end but I’ve never been so fucking stressed out in my life. I was so thrown that my driving instincts were scrambling trying to figure out what still worked and what didn’t. I ended up spending some time overtaking people on the dual carriageway and the repetition of the blinker-mirror-headcheck-merge manoeuvre back and forth grounded me a bit because THAT still worked. When I remembered what side the blinker was on, anyway.

And then I was sick by the time I made it back to the hotel. :/ I think my stomach is super delicate when travelling- when I went to the US I was sick then, too. But my first night I was sick after drinking the London tapwater and eating Maccas chips (hadn’t eaten anything else all arvo so it was one of those, but London tapwater is safe and Maccas is too big to take chances on food poisoning, surely?), and today I’m quite sure it was the pub I stopped at.

I don’t think theres anything wrong with the water/chips/pub food, but it seems like my immune system is just hyper reactive right now. I mean, fuck, my mask got me sick on the plane - my mask scrunched up my nose and I’m sure it irritated it, because I was sneezing and sniffling but an hour after I took the mask off it was gone. Symptoms also died down a bit when I wasn’t constantly adjusting it and did my best to leave it alone. On the way back I’ll wear a different kind of mask.

Feeling better physically but still not great. Have had to cancel some things I’ve really looked forward to. :/ Hoping to get refunds but if not I’m hoping my travel insurance will cover them. One involves driving here in the dark (and I’m not doing that unless I’m at 100%) and the other is very active. Tomorrow, instead, I will sleep in a bit and then explore the town I’m in.

(Some good news: the Wales water tastes much better than London’s. I’m so dehydrated because I was having trouble stomaching even the bottled water so I’m drinking a lot now lol.)

#London 2023

[jjkmtsworld]

what instruments genshin characters would play (mondstadt edition)

a/n: hey yalls this is my first writing post bc i am in severe genshin brainrot rn 😀 anyways, some are based on my personal experiences and my opinions LMAO please excuse me if any characters might be ooc :’)

albedo:

-the oboe

-he’s smart as hell bro, i think he’d pick up a complex instrument for fun

-he practices the oboe during whatever little downtime he has in between (not a problem since he’s quick to pick it up)

-he learned alot of melodies and sweet songs to play for klee whenever she comes sees him

-he’s the chief alchemist, of course reed prices and maintenance aren’t a problem for him (klee accidentally set some reeds on fire one time)

amber:

-the drums!! specifically the tenor drums

-i feel like since she’s an archer, her arms and wrists can handle the chops of tenors

-she has stickers from klee, collei, and eula on the sides of her drums :’)

-collei’s stickers are usually just leaves from sumeru but shhh don’t ruin it for them

-one time, kaeya was holding her drums and dropped them on accident. she cried the rest of the day (they were unscathed but she side eyes her drums anytime kaeya is nearby)

barbara:

-since she’s a singer, she’s soprano

-yknow that one fiona scene from shrek 1? the one where fiona sings to the birds? yea

-she purposely screeches and goes off key whenever that one sicko is nearby (the one who crushes on her despite being an old HAG)

-at some point, barbara tried teaching jean how to sing… jean is now forbidden from singing near the church

-sometimes her fans faint from the sudden solo she has in the middle of an instrumental piece

-she’s also training in opera <3

bennett:

-the bass drum!!

-you may never notice the bass drum, but it’s there to support and carry the orchestra. it’s the most important instrument. (just like him in most of yalls teams)

-one time the conductor told him to play as loud as he can and he broke the concert bass drum. he now temporarily has to rely on a marching bass drum for the time being.

-he places stickers from klee, fischl, and razor on his drum ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

-as a way of training his muscles, he LUGS it home every day to practice (his dads encourage him to do his best as they wear earplugs)

-sometimes he lays on his drum when he’s feeling tired

-whenever he breaks a bass drum, he and razor empty it out, climb in it, and have fischl roll them down a slope

diluc:

-i can see him playing the bass clarinet

-doesnt have a lot of down time, but since he’s good with his fingers ( 🤺) he has good muscle memory

-accidentally left his reed on the mouthpiece and didn’t play for a couple weeks due to work. the next time he opened the case, he found mold growing.

-kaeya anonymously leaves new reeds (the expensive ones) for him at his doorstep. diluc thinks it’s either jean or lisa leaving him the reeds :’)

diona:

-the trumpet

-she performs at the cats tail often to get people to stop drinking temporarily and focus on her

-anytime her dad tries talking to her while he’s drunk, she blasts her trumpet in his face and runs off

-i feel like she’d be a classy girlie and has a silver trumpet

-her music sheets are covered in cat paws

eula:

-i can see her rocking a tuba

-doesn’t show up for practice at all due to her status

-somehow already knows what is expected of her so no worries there tbh

-one time she found a half eaten sandwich inside her tuba and mika was so quick to air out the potential culprits 😭

fischl:

-the viola

-oz sometimes has to DRAG her to practice because she wants to be out and about

-who needs music stands when you can have oz amirite?

-says she’d never audition for a solo but you catch her often practicing ( ◠‿◠ ) no wonder she always gets them with ease

jean:

-i can see her playing the organ!!

-mostly bc it’s easy for her to remember amongst everything else she has to do

-doesn’t practice very often due to work (；ﾞﾟ'ωﾟ'):

-sometimes plays to relieve stress and immerse herself temporarily

-barbara may have banned her singing, but she certainly doesn’t mind hearing a soft organ being played while she tidies up the cathedral for the next day

kaeya:

-tenor saxophone

-literally another reason why girls are attracted to him

-secretly wishes that diluc and him are paired up for a duet bc how FUCKING COOL WOULD THAT BE?? (๑>◡<๑)

-he is a strong hater of the soprano saxophone and no one knows why

-diluc anonymously pays for his repairs whenever kaeya has to get it fixed

klee:

-she’d play the violin

-albedo temporarily suspended her private lessons as klee kept running off to go blow up fish

-she got so upset one time that she played to soothe herself and ended up breaking a string which led to more tears

-don’t worry!! albedo paid to get it repaired :’)

-klee begged albedo to draw on her violin case. he drew dodoco on her case and now she brags about it everywhere she goes (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

lisa:

-she’d play the cello hello

-often shows up to practice because she enjoys seeing everyone (she’ll NEVER admit it)

-i feel like in her akademiya days, she would have done music education as a side project

-she takes great care of her instrument and plays for the traveler (not without another date to follow behind ahem)

mona:

-yknow i can see her playing the flute

-it’s all beaten up bc she can’t afford repairs ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

-somehow still manages to make it work?? no one knows how it’s possible with its current state

-fischl and her have been trying to make a duet together but they sometimes end practice early bc of their bickering

noelle:

-the euphonium

-SHE’S SO SWEET AND BRINGS SNACKS FOR EVERYONE TO EAT AFTER PRACTICE (mona stuffs her hat with them to take home)

-always practices and knows her material before practice (even dips into music theory)

-practices many solo parts but never seems to land her own ://

-gets too shy to play when singled out by the conductor :’)

razor:

-probably the timpani

-enjoys going wild on it

-sometimes if you squint enough during a ballad where timpani’s aren’t needed, you’ll find him sleeping behind his instrument

-bennett accidentally broke one of the drums and razor felt so let down by it that he lugged it all the to wolvendom so bennett wouldn’t touch it anymore

-likes to lay on it during downtime

rosaria:

-the tuba

-sees the instrument as a way of creating music without being exposed by a distinct sound

-definitely can’t read sheet music and goes by ear o(｀ω´ )o

-sometimes hides in her tuba case so barbara doesn’t come looking to drag her away to the church

sucrose:

-the triangle LMAO

-just like albedo, doesn’t have much time so she picked up a simple instrument to memorize

-gets slightly competitive with other triangle players

-my triangle is better than yours

-if you look on her music stand, she’ll have one page of her sheet music and the other page is an alchemy practice problem set (＞人＜;)

venti:

-ik it’s canon he can play the flute and lyre

-so his third instrument is the harp

-loves the sound it makes and he truly enjoys practicing when he’s not drinking

-the other archons sometime hear him from the winds carrying his musical notes to them

-he plays the among us theme song and sends it personally to zhongli (this has angered him to no ends)

-enjoys seeing his people playing in the same room and somewhat getting along! it settles his mind :))

-another wholesome point but the archons pooled enough mora and resources to make his beautifully crafted and most monstadt people are so confused on how he obtained such a luxurious instrument despite being a broke ass mf

#genshin #albedo #kaeya #diluc #fischl #diona #klee #jean #amber #eula #bennett #lisa #mona #noelle #razor #rosaria #sucrose #venti #genshin impact #world writing #wow this took me a while ODHSJDNSK #monstadt #pt. 2?? maybe

[house-afire]

His Look (Izzy & Wee John)

Prompt: 100 words of trying it again

Izzy keeps his eyes closed as Wee John paints around them, but he can feel the lids jumping and twitching. It’s vulnerable, letting another man poke around him like this—it’d be easy as anything for Wee John to gouge his eyes clean out—but what’s defending himself ever gotten him, besides fifty-odd fucking years of misery? He forces himself to breathe, but even the air here’s unfamiliar; he can barely taste the sea in it over all the acrid tang of face-paint.

It's hardly his first Calypso party. Not even the first one with all the foofaraw; even harder-edged crews like a good masquerade every now and then. But he’s never been one of the gilded boys, light dancing off his spangles. He used to just drink and watch them, something in his chest yawing about at the sight. They were just pretty pieces of paper tossed about in the wind, he told himself back then: flashy but with no weight to them. You couldn’t rely on lovely things.

But he’s been all weight for years now, an anchor to keep Edward from going too far out to sea—to keep himself from wanting anything like a tossing wave, too. And then he held Edward wrong, dragged him down too far and nearly sank the both of them. Nearly took the whole ship with them.

So now he’s a leg lighter and he’s trying, God, he is, he’s trying to let the wind blow him along, trying to be something other than, something more than, what he was.

Sometimes it shocks him, how easy it is. It makes him feel how much fucking effort these last few years have taken, how he didn’t know the half of it at the time.

But this is—

He can make himself rely on soft, fine, beautiful things—on this ship, this captain, this crew, this Ed—but he can’t be one of them. You can’t melt an iron anchor down to stuff a feather bed.

“It looks good on you,” Wee John says, and Izzy jerks, feeling like he’s been half-asleep. He opens his eyes and takes in the two of them in the looking glass.

He looks—

He doesn’t know what to do with how he looks, with the glittery expanse of gold painting him lashes to brows. He didn’t even know that was the color Wee John had picked. He’s sparkling like fucking treasure. Like a unicorn.

Like something worth keeping, even if it’s not useful.

“You should do your lips, too,” Wee John says. “Ruby would do it, I think.”

He takes the little pot of red whatever-the-fuck that Wee John passes him, and they both pretend his hands aren’t shaking. He can barely get it open.

“I’m not used to it,” he says under his breath, like he’s talking about how his suddenly sweat-slick fingers are sliding around on the lid of the jar. But then, because all Bonnet’s talking rubs off on you, he says more—not all of it, because there’s not enough time in the fucking day for that, but more. “Being a … fucking spectacle.”

“Getting looked at?” Wee John says.

Izzy shrugs minutely—just a twitch of his shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re just a little fecker, aren’t you?” Like that follows naturally.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Wee John snorts and gestures to himself, to the rolling mountains of his shoulders, the hard curves of muscle and softer expanses of flesh. “You take up enough space, you get used to people having a stare.” He swipes more paint across his face, more deftly than Izzy’s ever seen him swab anything else on this ship. “Gives you kind of a kick sometimes if they look and the show’s not what they were expecting. You know, ‘look at that big guy over there,’ and then, ‘oh, shit, it’s a fearsome and glorious goddess of the sea.’” Another dab of paint. “Can’t be too new to you, though, right? People must look at you sometimes.”

“Yeah. When I’m fucking shouting, or cutting people to pieces with a sword. Not because it’s entertaining. Except—”

The word gets out before the memories do, almost. God, it’s been a long time.

“Except what?”

“Except I used to sing,” Izzy says. And so help him, if Wee John laughs, Izzy’s going to knock his head into the mirror. He’ll take the wrath of Calypso and seven years of bad luck over being a fucking joke.

Wee John doesn’t laugh. “Sing, then,” he says, like it’s that simple. “Then if anyone’s looking, and you don’t want it to be because you’re prettied up, you can tell yourself it’s because you just about sang the smalls off ’em.”

Izzy half-snorted. “Never even heard me sing a note, and you’ve already got me down as a siren.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem like the kind of bloke who’d do anything if he didn’t do it well.”

Well, that was a fucking illusion. He could tally up a long list of everything he once prided himself on that he’s fucked up beyond repair.

But it’s hard to fuck up a song, isn’t it? What’s he going to do, miss a note, be a little flat? What’s that, compared to everything else?

“Why’d you stop it in the first place?” Wee John says. “Just because it didn’t really go with your whole scowly arsehole thing?”

Izzy scowls, and since they can both see it plain as day in the fucking looking glass, he loses the argument then and there.

“Doesn’t, does it?” he says lightly, but the truth is that he stopped because he kept finding himself singing to Ed, even when there was a crowd. Nothing worse than pouring your heart into a lovesick serenade to a man who was only half-listening. Easier to stop.

But he remembers, distantly, how it felt to do it because he liked it. How it felt to use other men’s music, other men’s tender words, as a crutch and not have to feel weak for it, because that was just what fucking singing was. To get swept up in a tide but not drown in it. He could use that.

He gets the lid off the little jar and rubs a satiny gloss onto his mouth. He parts his lips, shaping the first few words of the song he already knows he’ll choose. The only prettiness he’s ever had a gift for meets whatever aching gold-and-red experiment is in the looking glass, and they don’t clash. It’s not him, not really, but he … likes it, at least for a night.

“You need some help?” he says, clearing his throat. “With all your dramatic looks?”

Wee John scrutinizes him, and however Izzy’s put on the fucking lip-stuff must have passed muster, because he says, “Could do with a bit, yeah.” He turns to Izzy and closes his eyes, the goddess Calypso waiting for devotion.

Izzy paints him with care.

#wee john feeney #izzy hands

[ssomisadventures]

Ok, so here are some thoughts I have on the new UI

Disclaimer: Some of these are probably just me things and not real issues lol

- I don’t like placement of map in the top corner, when I play sso I tend to keep my eyes focused on the bottom of the screen to see jumps and what not, and with the new placement I have to move my eyes farther to see the map. This takes my eyes away from my horse for longer, and makes me lose track of where I am/I ran into a few things trying to look at the map lol

- I don't like the placement of the speed indicator at the bottom of the screen, but hiding it gets rid of dismount button and forces you to rely on the x key

- I find the character pictures in the corner a bit distracting, they seem a bit to big and look out of place

- why is the chat bubble wobbly/squiggly/whatever? it's a stylistic choice, sure, but it's like...not exaggerated enough to read that way. It's sort of awkwardly in-between a clean design and a more squiggly design, making it look unintentional and messy to me instead of a artistic choice. I lowkey thought it was glitched at first lol

- So like...why is it incomplete? Settings, notifications, toggle view etc still have the old ui design, I just don't understand why they would seemingly release it with major aspects of it (i.e. character sheets, settings,) still unfinished

- So it's definitely aiming for mobile audiences, but it feels lackluster on pc

- I don't like the sparkles whenever you gain (h)xp

- Roughly the place where the dismount button used to be is now shopping…idk I just don't like how the shopping button is in front of the inventory button, I definitely clicked on it due to dismount button muscle memory a few times, and maybe this is me putting on too much of a tinfoil hat but it feels like by placing the shop button more prominently than the inventory button, they're trying to remind players of it more or get people to accidentally click it so people eventually pay more for clothes or whatever

- I like the loading screen! Art filling up the screen, font is pleasing, running horse

- There's now 3 styles of UI in the game now; the new UI, the old, and the updated race UI

- Honestly I like the race UI better than the new UI, I would maybe like it if they based the new UI more off that

- I don’t like having to click to level up horse although I could see that being useful for character leveling up if you want to time screenshots

- I like the animation leveling up comes with though

- reins glitch😩 not UI related but can they fix the reins connecting to saddle glitch already lol

- Inspecting players only works like 50% of the time for me now

- I'm not a fan of how separated all the buttons are now

-The white text on dark background in the chat box hurts my eyes and makes it hard to read but that's probably a me thing, I had a concussion that messed up my eyes and made it harder for me to read some text on screens including light on dark - however I did see someone else in global saying they thought the text was too bright as well

- I like the shared moment thing! The interactions with your horse are cute and fun

- I don’t like the extra call for pickup menu, I can see it being helpful but I'd like maybe a toggle button for that, like a "don't show this message again" thing

- Why does the inventory default to opening so low on the screen now?

- I like how you can see the exact xp numbers without the character screen

- Someone already mentioned it, but the champ groups...you can't see past like the first 4 letters of someone's names, and the scrolling

Anyway, I think it's fine overall, it's not my taste but I don't despise it like I thought it might

#star stable online #star stable #sso #some of these are just me nitpicking or me wanting to click on as few things and move my mouse as little as possible lol

[thecherrygod]

PRECINCT 41'S PRINTER AND COPY MACHINE - You stand next to the precincts printer, putting paper sheets on it as if you were giving hay to a horse, slowly, stalling to actually operate the frightening machine

1- how do you operate the machine?

2- can't someone else do it for you?

3- interfacing (challenging godly) use the machine.

4- fuck this, I'm not dealing with this shit .

LOGIC - To use this machine, you need to know what you need it for first. While you are using it to photocopy some case files, you can also use it to print documents from a radio computer.

You've already done the basic copying steps, as you've put sheets of white paper in it, now you need to put the files you want to copy on the scanner, facedown, and then press the button "photocopy" it will stop copying once 15 seconds happen after you take your last page and the scanner stops sensing any new pages being put on it.

1- how do you operate the machine?

2- can't someone else do it for you?

3- interfacing (challenging godly) use the machine.

4- fuck this, I'm not dealing with this shit .

YOU - I'm a lieutenant, I have other things i should be doing, can't i really not ask someone else to do this?

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You are well aware C wing is understaffed, and that all the officers are equally as busy as you.

EMPATHY - Or taking their well deserved break. Just do this yourself

1- how do you operate the machine?

2- can't someone else do it for you?

3- interfacing (challenging godly) use the machine.

4- fuck this, I'm not dealing with this shit .

INTERFACING (CHALLENGING GODLY)- check failed.

PRECINCT 41'S PRINTER AND COPY MACHINE - You press the "photocopy" button on the machine and begin putting on your pages, one after the other with the skill of someone who's purely relying on muscle memory.

Once you're done, you look at your copies, but there's... Something wrong

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) (SUCCESS) - Look! Over there, in that page. Some of the letters and words didn't print right.

YOU - What?! I didn't do anything wrong!

INTERFACING - that's true. The issue is the machine.

YOU - Whats wrong with it?

INLAND EMPIRE - Too many things to begin listing, this machine is like you, but...

YOU - But?

INLAND EMPIRE - But if i had to say one specific thing, is that this machine hates you. It wants you to go to hell. Not just you, but all mankind.

YOU - Great, now i also have to deal with a fucked up evil machine

HALF LIGHT - all of them are. Using them is always a fight

DRAMA - you're always at their mercy, sire, you can't ever do anything that will purposefully let you win.

YOU - okay but what do I do now?

LOGIC - You could try to print the case file again, or you could try filling in the empty spaces yourself with a pen

VISUAL CALCULUS (FAILURE) - you have no idea which one would be faster, as you cannot predict how many trials it would take to get a proper print out of the files.

INLAND EMPIRE - I wouldn't recommend attempting it again, this machine wants to see you burn.

YOU - you leave the evil machine by itself, already wondering where you left your pen... And thinking about investing in some carbon paper, if only to ensure that your encounters with that thing will remain minimum.

#my posts #disco elysium #for organization #its almost 3am i just wrote this on my phone #based on my relationship with my printer tbh #i really just thought 'my printer wants to see me in hell" #and i went 'oh hdb would think that bc of inland empire' #idek if i should tag it properly bc im almoat not posting it #bc i can barely see and idk if i made any sense and bc my perception (sight) is failing me currently bc of the time lmao #also i just hope i did the skills right but first km tired second ive only played thus game once #ok I'll post it just like this is fine enough maybe. this is just so i could get the idea out of my mind and sleep sltstm

[zer0psd]

never used photoshop so im curious to see your opinions about photopea vs photoshop

ok things to be known: 1) adobe can suck my cock and balls theyre evil and i wish that the corporate entity that is adobe would go up in flames, a corporation shoud NOT have that much insight in your privacy, files, sensitive info, etc 2) photopea is great and built off a small dev team as a basically a passion project, which is awesomesauce! i'm not knocking them at all, and i think ppl should support them in anyway they can

i've been a graphic designer and photographer for years now, and in hs i became adobe certified. i literally spent four years of my life learning on an industry standard. it becomes muscle memory after a while. beside that i was a roleplayer so i became VERY familiar with edits and gifs and all that. again everything became muscle memory. adobe suites are the industry standard for a reason, and for GOOD reason. i think they have an amazing interface and work hard to update the experience and make shit easier for artists; like i will give them that even if i sound like a bootlicker. i never paid for it tho lol as a student i got it for free and i would use cracks/torrents.

when i got my new computer it wouldn't let me run bootcamp so i couldn't crack the adobe suites like i used to :/ new mac processors or whatever don't rely on intel anymore, so not intel = no bootcamp. most cracks are pc based so i just couldn't find one that worked for me. apple went ham on protecting IP and combating torrents so it's like impossible to crack without an extensive VPN or else adobe will literally send a cease and desist to your internet provider. its sincerely fucked up.

i switched to photopea bc of this. i really liked it, but im autistic so having to relearn my own workflow that ive had for years made me want to hashtag die. the interface is VERY close to photoshop, so it wasn't hard, but it doesn't have the same capabilities i was used to w ps. i do NOT like edited photos in photopea; i think its way too laggy and glitchy to work with giant raw files, which really sucks!!! for making small edits and doing my graphic design tho??? i do really like it. it doesn't have the same capabilities as ps sure, but once i just fucked with the filter galleries and different plug ins and worked my process around what photopea could accomplish, i was good as gold. i've been producing quality work on commission through photopea. it's a learning curve for sure, especially if you have zero experience with an editing interface like that, but the more i use it the more i learn.

all of that being said, i think photopea is fucking awesome for being completely free and open source. it has its issues —— sometimes its way too glitchy for me and pisses me the fuck off, i have to frequently save my psd files and hope that they don't fuck up, and then reopen so it's less laggy and rinse and repeat bc some of my stuff takes hours lmfao —— but i think its pretty darn close to the photoshop i was using like less than a year ago. its glitchy, its laggy, the ads are annoying and clog up the screen, but i simply cannot complain to much when its a smallish dev team working on a shoestring budget (last time i checked) and for FREE. like its open and usable on any browser and computer and i think thats rad.

if i could go back to ps without giving them money i would in a heartbeat. ps is awesome for the work i do, and i like that there's constant improvements and updates. it just boils down to look, feel, and workflow to me; ps is rarely laggy and glitchy, its meant to handle giant projects, there's so many plug ins you can find online, etc. i just wish it wasn't a subscription based software; honestly if i new adobe was less like the elf on the shelf and i could make a one time purchase, i would. but alas.

anyways i'm pro photopea all the way. idk if any of this was helpful its mostly rambly lmfao. but yeah. i don't do much photography anymore, so i don't have to work around the glitches and lags and all of that with photopea; i focus on graphic design for event fliers and social media content + rp resources. it has room for improvement for sure for sure, but it's lovely and helpful in its own way.

#i typed this with a broken hand i deserve a purple heart for this

[kaasknot]

Heyo! Hope you’re having a good weekend!

I saw this today and wonder if you have a take on it?

https://www.laineygossip.com/rami-malek-to-star-as-buster-keaton-new-drama-series-seems-like-job-for-johnny-knoxville/73389

i've seen so many takes flash through the buster keaton fandom in the past 48 hours, lol. as for this article, i mostly agree with the author's objections to rami malek. he doesn't especially look like buster, but eh, he's got similarly ginormous buggy eyes, which imo is more important than <checks writing on facebook> nose, jawline, or height. also he's a good actor and good with accents, so at face value he's no worse than donald o'connor in 1957's "the buster keaton story."

the thing that took my fucking breath away, though, was this sentence: "Over the last twenty years, no one has done more in cinema to keep the spirit of Buster Keaton alive than Knoxville and the Jackass crew." i am SORRY??? this author thinks fucking jackass is the true spirit of buster keaton???

rant incoming.

i don't particularly like comedy as a genre. it relies too much on idiotic situations, juvenile humor, or humiliation. i've never watched an episode of "jackass," but from what i've heard, it leans hard on the last two. i cannot stress this enough: buster's sense of humor bears almost NOTHING in common with johnny knoxville's, aside from stuntwork.

i hate humiliation-based comedy beyond words. i hate it. i got bullied severely as a kid, and candid camera-type shit where some quote-unquote "comedian" comes along and torments another person for laughs reads to me as pure bullying. when buster cameoed on "candid camera" in 1962, the joke was always on him. he would go into a restaurant and suffer mishap after mishap, to the point that the other patrons would try to help him. the best modern comparison is that tiktok of the guy faking phone confessions so he can capture the eavesdropper's reactions. it's the kindest form of bystander humor i can think of, and a far cry from "jackass."

i have a low tolerance for that kind of comedy too, tbh. it's better than making someone else the butt of the joke, but it's so hard to get the balance right, and more often than not it makes me want to curl up and die of secondhand embarrassment. but i never get that feeling in buster's films. sure, he goes through embarrassing situations, but it never hurts. there's a gentleness and deft touch that keeps it from being sadomasochistic. and i think this is something people don't really understand about his style of comedy: yes, it was physical, and yes, it was slapstick, but it was also surprisingly cerebral. he wasn't just a manchild yelling and throwing pies around; it could be very subtle stuff. and, god, he would have fucking died before he did something like nailing his balls to his thigh or snorting wasabi till he puked. just trying to imagine him doing that is—it's like trying to open a lock with an orange peel. it's not only laughable, it's absurd to try. buster's humor wasn't based in shock value. it was based in logic, wry commentary on humanity, and yes, eye-popping stunts that he walked away from—unharmed.

it's straight up comparing an arabian to a donkey. i mean sure, they're both horse-shaped, right?

back to the article, the author's correct that stuntwork is vital to any buster keaton biopic, and i do have reservations about rami's casting on that front. buster learned how to tumble at the age of three, and he practiced it continuously for the next 67 years. unless rami has a background in dance, gymnastics, or stuntwork... i'm not sure he'll be able to train up the kind of muscle memory he'll need before filming.

but i'm also willing to extend the benefit of the doubt. i heard a rumor that he's also a producer on the series; to me, that indicates he's invested. he wants it to be good.

brace for the worst, hope for the best. that's what i'm doing.

#askbox #ghoulkitten #buster keaton #the biopic #fucking jackass‚ jesus christ #snapped my pearls from how hard i clutched them

[iwahajii]

• scars fade (Chapter 15)

Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.

Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.

This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.

warning: contains cheating, explicit language, mature themes

taglist: @jcrml @on-crows-wings

then • now  • next

It felt so foreign to watch concrete towers flash by your eyes, as you sat by the window on the train. What was once normal to you now became as foreign as a stranger in a new country. It soothed you to think of the view on the window on the second floor Sanae's house, with the dots of green and sprawling whites and blues.

You felt so far removed from your body, felt numb with nerves. You thought if it was just possible, you would've thrown up everything inside you because of how tense your stomach muscles were. By now, you didn't bother unclenching your fists as they clutch the fabric of your jacket, relying on them to sip the constant sweat on your hands. You didn't even bother to stop the bouncing of your knee, ignoring the looks from the person sitting in front. You couldn't help it. Your body seemed to be tight as a spring, as though one little squeak would send you springing back to Onomichi, or maybe somewhere far away from Tokyo.

Just for one day, you kept telling yourself.

For the fiftieth anniversary of your publishing house, every author and editor affiliated with the company were invited to celebrate the huge milestone. Ms. Hiroshi, your editor, insisted that your presence was mandatory as a currently blooming author (her words, not yours), going so far as to guilt-tripping you regarding her very generous agreement with your work arrangements. Pulling that card was foul, but highly effective, regardless of the evident benefits you will surely reap by attending such event.

You were being paranoid. And pathetic. (Sanae gave her piece of mind the moment she heard, yapping on and on about maturity and professionalism.)

And so, you swallowed every complaint you wanted to scream, together with the urge to tie yourself with stones and jump into the ocean.

Twenty-four hours won't mean much, if majority of it will be spent on an exclusive dinner party, was your mantra every time you felt like jumping on the train back to Onomichi.

"Just for one day," you whispered under your breath, standing up from your seat just as the train slowed to a stop.

It took twenty minutes to get Tooru's landlord off your back, after a hundred repeats of 'Yes, I am Oikawa's best friend,' 'No, I don't need anything else,' and 'Yes, I'll be staying just for one day.' Thank god for Tooru's narcissistic tendencies. The photographs on his wall were blessings in disguise. You used to complain about them being too exposed, with majority of them too intimate and wild for public viewing like that one of him smooching your cheek as you laughed one college party years ago when he got drunk off his ass. An embarrasing memory, but nonetheless a very good one. They served as good evidence to back up your statements, and in the end, she handed you the keys and went out the door with less fuss.

After fixing yourself a light lunch, you went around the place for a bit, cleaning up a little because Tooru's an unrepentant slob. You sent him pictures, some before and after as evidence to his slob crimes. With the time difference, he'll see them hours later, so while he's still snoring the night away in the west, you made yourself as comfortable as you can in his apartment.

Maybe you were too exhausted from the trip, or in handling his slightly neurotic landlord or maybe it was too comfortable in Tooru's king sized bed with the fluffy pillows and comforters, but whatever the case, you were cutting it close to preparing for the night when you woke up. The time on your screen said it was four pm.

You shot out of bed like it was on fire. If you were even a minute late from the meeting time decided by your editor, you were screwed. So, with as much efficiency and speed as you can muster, you went to work.

As you were finishing up on your make up, your phone rang.

"Hey!" you greeted, at the same time Tooru said, "Holy shit."

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. "How do I look?"

"I'd marry you if only I was straight," he said, face flat.

You gaped, shocked by his words before your face heated up like a stupid teenager, regardless of his stated preferences. He must've realized the effect of his words because he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, before glaring at him as you focused your attention back on your lips. "You just woke up. Wait 'til your brain fully operates, idiot."

"I am awake," Tooru declared, even as he was blatantly yawning on screen.

"Try again next time," you chided. Why was it so difficult to choose the right shade of red lipstick?

Frustrated, you held up the two tubes.

"Burgundy," was Tooru's immediate reply.

You grinned, before following Tooru's suggestion.

Once that was done, you leaned back, looking at yourself in the mirror. Dressing up wasn't really your thing, always preferred the comfort of shirts and jeans, but seeing your reflection in the mirror, you realized those gruelling fashion sessions with Tooru were worth it. Tooru seemed to agree because he was busy whistling loudly through the speaker. You were about to tell him off, but the shrill sound of the doorbell rang throughout the apartment, making you jump.

"What the hell," you muttered, forehead creasing. You placed a hand on your chest, trying to soothed the spiked heart rate.

"Is someone at the door?" Tooru asked. "Do you have a date?"

"I don't, but Hiroshi-san's going to pick me up at 6," you answered. The time on your phone said 5:35. "She's awfully early," you noted and Tooru laughed.

"If this is your landlord, I'm ditching your place and book a hotel," you joked as you reached the entryway at the same time the front door swung open. The door smacked your hand as it swung forward, revealing the intruder.

Tooru's words were drowned by the loud ringing in your ears as the world dissolved to tiny particles, sounds flattening to a shrill static. You barely registered the pain on your hand, overtaken by waves of something much more stronger and bigger. Like dying and living at the same time, in each passing second.

With the last breath you held inside you, you whispered, "Hajime."

then • now  • next

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu series #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa torū #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader

[kiisaes]

What’s your thoughts on tracing as a way to learn to draw? I’m a total beginner artist/digital artist. Lvl 0. I started a few months ago with procreate on an iPad and I’ve gotten good pointers on procreate and what’s a good DPI and whatnot. i can see a little progress when it comes to the layers and and blending with other brushes besides the smudge tool haha

But I’m still unsure of how to get better at proportions and expressions and pretty much everything when it comes to the line work. I know practice is the ultimate tool to get better, and I’ve tried to use the typical reference to look at but I struggle hard with proportions and keeping the face semi symmetrical and it comes out all wonky. I’ve always been under the impression tracing is like taboo (outside of hands, I think most agree that hands suck) but is it okay to do as practice?

not sure if this is a hot take or a cold take bc artists can't seem to agree on if tracing is ok or not, but i think it's fine to do as practice!

lots of either young or insecure artists think that tracing is bad, and i kind of get it - it's not art we made on our own and we relied a lot on someone else's existing lines. to many, it feels like cheating. i thought that way too! but the older i got and the more i heard from experienced artists, the more i realized that tracing can be really beneficial!!! sure you're not making your own lines from your own imagination/studying references, but you're still drawing the lines. it helps you get used to shapes and figures, and it familiarizes your hand so drawing things like faces or muscles — pretty difficult things to draw without help — don't feel as unfamiliar anymore.

believe it or not, your hand will remember movements the more you do them. it's more or less muscle memory. if you trace a pose or a hand or something, your hand will become more accustomed to drawing those things. obviously i recommend you use studies more so your eyes can also train themselves to work with your hands, but i understand that drawing off of references is way harder than tracing from references. if you're a total beginner, there's nothing wrong with tracing photos of models or w/e just to get a basic feel

i do draw the line at tracing other artist's work and passing it off as your own, though. nothing wrong with studying an artist's style, that's really useful towards developing your own style. but if your lines perfectly overlap another artist's piece, then you didn't do any of that hard work yourself. not only is it disrespectful as hell towards the original artist, who poured their sweat and tears into that drawing you just doodled over, but you also didn't really grow from it.

i have seen professional artists trace and replicate other artists' works, but it's either paying purposeful homage to the original, or was done to study the style and methods used to create that final product. normally you can tell when an artist traces for their own artistic improvement and understanding, and when they're tracing just to be lazy, rude, and profit undeservingly. generally a rule of thumb is if you trace from a different artist, you don't post it online or sell it anywhere. and ofc you always want to respect the og artist's wishes, so if they don't want anyone to trace their work, you probably shouldn't, even if it's just for practice. there's lots of other resources you can use on the internet!

TL;DR: tracing is a-ok from a practicing standpoint!!! but don't trace other artists' works, take full credit for it, and post them online!!!

#long post #i guess .. god. can i ever respond to anything normally. #also this was a very interesting q bc there was this one artist in the bkdk community who traced really notorious artists #and i remembered thinking damn. u couldn't just draw ur own thing and post it online? u had to trace from others and pass it off as ur own? #there were a lot of inconsistencies with their art too. like after they were called out for tracing it became SO obvious #like it's fine to be a beginner artist and not get a good grasp of art yet! there's nothing wrong with that! trace to practice! #but dawg why would u trace from OTHER BKDK ARTISTS ToT and they were big artists too. not less popular ones #so .. just don't do that! u lose a lot of credibility and respect if u get caught #asks for becki #becki rambles about stuff