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#if this flops im gonna cry

owlqueen10 · 1 year

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More art KIRIONA OHHHHHHHHH GIMMIE A CHANCEEEE

Also lineart Version because I AM PROUF OF MYSELF.

#tlt #tlt art #the locked tomb #my art #kiriona gaia #nona the ninth #ntn fanart #if this flops im gonna cry #kiriona the first

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nihil-lily-art · 1 year

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✨Center stage ✨

I finally drew all of the love interests with Cardia. This took so long it’s not even funny.

#digital art #fanart #digital painting #artists on tumblr #my art #art #code: realize #cardia beckford #code realize #saint germain #victor frankenstein #abraham vanhelsing #arsene lupin #impey barbicane #if this flops im gonna cry #コドリア

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creep-girl · 1 year

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made this last night after having a breakdown so if it looks bad thats why 💀

#inanimate insanity #ii suitcase #inanimate insanity suitcase #silly little scene redraw 😋#inanimate insanity humanized #if this flops im gonna cry

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silverbladexyz · 1 year

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Silverbladexyz’s 100 follower event!

GUYS GUYS GUYSSSS 100 FOLLOWERS!!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS! AN EVENT!!!

So for this event, we’ll be doing something a bit different. We will be doing...

📣💖💖💗✨✨🌟🌟 PLATONIC MATCHUPS!!! 📣💖💖💗✨✨🌟🌟

How it works:

Send me info about yourself, and I’ll match you with a BSD character that I think would be your mentor/parent figure/sibling figure! Please specify if you want a mentor, a parent figure or a sibling figure.

What to send:

1. Tell me about your personality! Your mbti, enneagram, what types of people you get and don’t get along with, just basically anything that describes you!

2. Please please PLEASE tell me if you are caught up with the BSD Manga and if you have read any of the BSD Light Novels!!! I don’t want to spoil anyone, and spoilers are no fun :(

3. Include your hobbies! As well as any extracurricular activities you might be doing

4.Tell me if you don’t want to be matched up with any character

5. Appearance is optional, but I would appreciate it if you told me your pronouns

6. Feel free to include anything else you like

*The mentor idea is inspired by Hiya on Quotev. Go and check out their works!!!

Also, platonic matchups will be closing on 11/11/2022!!(wow that’s Fyodor’s birthday) Any requests sent afterwards will unfortunately be deleted.

100 follower event status: closed.

Thank you guys so so so so so soooo much for 100 followers!!!

@pixyys @ashthemadwriter @pianotross @the-mourning-stars @fi-nn-losofia @chuuyasboner @nekokinax @i-just-like-goats @angolicious @ghost-rattan @lumichiyy @anyone else who wants to join <3

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #silverbladexyz's 100 follower event #if this flops im gonna cry

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thewonandonly · 2 years

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15:28 — he's so pretty when he goes down on me, gold skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry, he tells me he's gentle when he wants to be, so i think he wants to be gentle with me | touch tank by quinnie (NSFW)

if there was one thing you could always depend on from your ex, it was always a quickie in the waiting room lavatory at music shows; always just after he got off the stage, sweat kissing his skin, just like your lips on his neck, his hands tangled in your hair as he whispers next to your ear about how beautiful you are, how desperately he misses you.

but those quickies always escalated into late night visits, wearing comfortable clothes. but what really got to you, was when you could feel his hands bruising your hips, was that silver chain hanging over your face, which you more often then not, used to pull his lips to your own, your tongues swapping spit that you longed to forget.

and when everything was forgotten and done, he grabbed a discarded shirt in your laundry hamper, which you even forgot was his, and threw it over his body.

you always wanted to ask him; ask him why he's still here, why he's always chosen you out of all the other's in the world.

and he holds your face in his hands, and smiles, "because you're mine." hongjoong whispers, "you know i like spoiling you. no matter what the company says, i'm still going to find my way to you."

and honestly, if that was why, you didn't mind having to meet him late at night, or in the waiting room lavatory. because he decided to be gentle with your heart, and yours only.

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toranekooo · 2 years

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MOD NEKO'S 200+ PAINT-MIXING EVENT!!

STATUS: CLOSED!

hi hi, everybody! in honor of hitting 200+ followers, i will, of course, be holding an event! the eveng is similar to how a token event works, except with a little twist! please read below the cut for more information!! old pinned here!

hello, y/n. the rules of this game are simple—okay okay, i'm done being funny KHDJD the instructions are as follows, please read them carefully! this little game will involve A LOT of colors—mainly hex codes—hence the title, and it took too much creative juice making it happen so i hope everyone enjoys it!

❥︎ go to this color picking site (provided by google so it's a lot more accessible) or any color picking site and pick a color and copy the hex code (it should begin with a hashtag [#] and consist of numbers and letters only)

❥︎ send me an ask alongside the hex code, specifying a character OR an aesthetic OR the source ONLY. if you're requesting a source, you can also add an aesthetic as a bonus! you cannot specify more than these. here are some examples of how to format your asks!

❥︎ i'll be randomizing the edit type and/or aesthetic from the hex code you give me! i won't reveal how i do it (yet) but i promise i actually use a code to figure it out (๑¯◡¯๑)

❥︎ anons can participate, but please use a name or a sign-off! that way i can keep track of how many colors you have. you're allowed to send one request a day, and no more, that way i can cater to everyone's requests! there will be a request cap at 10 requests, but i'll be opening it on and off so be sure to send 'em in fast!!

❥︎ this event will last until may 10! and the first person who completes a full color palette (4 days) gets a special prize from me~ ( /^ω^)/♪♪

❥︎ my dni continues to be in full effect for this event, please respect it and don't participate if it applies to you. the same goes for my blacklist, and i'll be rejecting any requests that involve characters or themes within it. and just in case you're worried, if i don't have the motivation or energy to do a request, i'll be sure to tell you so feel free to send another~

❥︎ if there's any questions or clarifications, just shoot me an ask! of course, have fun everyone!!

now that the event's up and done, could i please ask for a promo? feel free to ignore and lmk if you want me to remove the tag!! tysm!! — @ringoeditz @editcore @electro-kins @12512015 @yukiiblossom @ashen-valiant @anya-editzz @mafiaexecutives @kin-of-the-sheep @cutesyidol @luv4yunjin @razzthetic @luciid-pearls and anyone else who wants!! thanks again!

#୨୧ * event #if this flops im gonna cry #anyway go crazy with reqs im in the mood to edit tons!!!

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iamjustfreak · 1 year

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I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you...

#long live #daydreaming #new story #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #wattpad fanfiction #charlie weasley #if this flops im gonna cry

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answer2jeff · 8 months

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narrow thoughts // carmen berzatto

part one: sprite

finally done with part 1! somewhat happy ending in part 2 btw, since i don't totally hate you guys or want you to suffer for once

synopsis: you and carmen were good friends turned strangers — the trauma bond from Noma still keeping you closer. you've noticed Carmen's hard work, and you worry terribly for him and his wellbeing. keeping quiet has never been so hard; being "friends" has never been so hard.

pairings: platonic!richie x reader – romantic!carmy x reader

english isn't my first language — expect some mistakes. feedback is always appreciated.

WARNINGS: friends - strangers - lovers, angst, fluff, NOT an established relationship, pre-existing history, ZERO use of y/n, reader is implied female, mention of the nickname "Pico," short for "Piccola" ; small (young), or even baby, in italian.

wc: 2.1k

You twisted the silver key at an angle, locking the glass door shut — the 'CLOSED' sign taunting you. You and your pre-existing staff expected to open in just 6 weeks, and you still felt like so much time lingered. The emptiness of the sidewalk made your stomach drop to your feet, the same way it did every night. You waited so impatiently for the opening day of your coffee shop to inch closer and closer; but you were uncertain, unsettled, and lacking confidence in your craft. Was simplicity really the answer? Should you have just stayed in New York? Were you just another, "Eleven Madison Park Dickhead?" Did you even want answers to these looming questions? No. No you didn't — not yet. All you wanted that night was a glass of homemade sprite, and maybe a real conversation with an old friend.

Maybe he'd know what to say, if anything at all.

So, you walked. And you walked, and you walked, and you kept walking — your dark blue crewneck sweater that went just past the belt line of your baggy jeans, a pair of pantyhose, white socks, and Doc Martens keeping you clothed in the Chicago cold. Your bracelets clanged against each other, harmonizing with the sound of the keychains jingling against your purse, clutched close to your sides. You finally reached the The Beef, the florescent glow casting a blueish green shine against your face. Another 'CLOSED' sign pointed a childish finger at you.

"Richieeee!" You wined, gently knocking on the glass window to grasp his attention — his back turned to you as he was telling Tina and Marcus yet another story about Carmen's childhood. You almost regretted being nice to him, but it gave you leeway; visiting after hours, special treatment, and even the nickname 'Pico' was coined after you.

"Richie, I know you can hear me!"

"Yeah, and he goes—" Richie reluctantly paused, hearing a familiar voice from behind the glass. His hands, frozen in the air, fell to his sides as he dramatically walked over to the door. "Shit, hold on. Pico's here." He groaned, slowly unlocking and cracking the door open, moving out of your way to let you in.

"Thanks." You breathed, crossing your arms as you took a step into the restaurant — immediately met with smiles and good night's from Marcus and Tina. Your eyes darted around the cramped space of the counter, not quite being able to see into the kitchen as you stepped closer to take a seat in a red barstool.

"What're you doin' here? You alright, sweetheart?" Richie asked, his tone only slightly annoyed from the interruption of his attempt to humiliate Carmen. He waltzed behind the counter, supporting his weight by pressing his palms against the metal as he stood across from you. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering — completely disregarding Tina and Marcus clocking out and leaving for the night.

"Yeah, just uh — my stomach hurts. Like, bad." You sighed, sticking your elbows up onto the counter and resting your face in your hands, the stool next to you occupied by your purse. Richie only nodded his head, noticing your mouth slightly gaped open like you had more to say. Even if he was a childish asshole, he wasn't evil. He'd never interrupt someone who was clearly in need.

"And–and i'm just... payin' a visit, I guess." You tried justifying your reasoning for coming all this way. It was 9:47, and you hardly ever came around this late. Typically, you'd lock up by 9:15, come over and stick around till 9:30, and be home by 10:45. You must've needed something, he thought, but he chose not to pester you tonight.

Please don't ask.

"Alright.. Yeah, 'ya look a little green. You wanna sprite?" Richie gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead, just reassuring you didn't have a fever. You nodded your head in approval. He walked into the kitchen, shouting "COUSIN! Pico wants a sprite! Make it for 'er, will 'ya?"

Carmen shut his locker as he nodded his head to Richie, mumbling, "be right there." He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips curling into a smile when he saw you through the tiny peak between the counter and the kitchen that you were too far from to experience. Admittedly, Carmen liked seeing you come in — bringing coffee for everyone in the mornings, and wishing everyone goodnight in the evenings. It gave him something to look foreword to. He liked the consistency; and hell, he fucking loved the blonde espresso macchiato you conjured up for him, the foam just a tad bit flat from having to travel on foot from the cafe to the restaurant with it.

You scrolled on your Instagram timeline as you heard Carmen mumbling to himself as he made your sprite, noting the clinking of ice against a glass cup and the crisp sound of the homemade soda pouring in. You gave Richie an air-kiss on the cheek goodbye as he walked out of The Beef, his lanky frame covered by his leather jacket. You smiled again at the sight of Carmen politely delivering your drink, putting your phone away in the pocket of your jeans.

"Why thank you!" You cooed, looking into his big, blue eyes that didn't really know what to focus on. You took in every feature: his curly dirty-blonde locks in need of trimming, his big and arched nose, the round shape of his chin. You were staring, your stare never leaving his figure as he set the glass down on the counter, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He was perfect — it was almost scary.

"Pleasure." Carmen chuckled, placing a warm hand on the back of his neck as he thought of what else to say. He couldn't remember the last time you two were alone. The closest thing was him coming over to your apartment in broad daylight to help you get rid of the green, god awful futon in your living room that was covered in weird stains.

"You've got a weird definition of pleasure." You sighed, raising your glass to your lips and feeling the sprite ease your stomach. Your eyes rolled when you heard his obnoxiously attractive laugh; breathy and nervous.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Carmen nodded his head, essentially saying "you're right, but respectfully — fuck off" without actually saying it. He picked his head up, watching your throat contract with each sip — the neon lights all around the restaurant displaying a purple glow against your skin. It was childish, but knowing he could make your night just a little bit better with a glass of sprite made him proud of himself.

"You feelin' alright? As best as you can, I mean." You set your glass down, resting your face in your palms as you blinked at Carmen, your eyebrows knitted in concern. You worried for him, no matter how much your brain reassured you that they grey crescents under his eyes were none of your concern. It was normal to never get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep every night as an overworked 34 year old, right? It's a Carmy problem, right?

No. Fuck no.

"Uh... yeah, I—" Carmen's hands gripped tightly against the cold, metal counter, his foot tapping against the tile floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, diverting his gaze away from you and back towards the walkway into the kitchen. He was lying, and you knew it. He felt his chest heave at the question as he forced himself to look at you again; your face still expressing a sense of panic for him.

"You..?" You finished his empty sentence for him, getting a little impatient. Your manicured nails clicked against the counter, waiting for him to tell at least some fragments of the truth.

"No, not alright. Not really. I, um—" He paused again, his eyes finally locking with yours, completely unable to pull away now. You looked beautiful to him — elegant, even. With your hair messier than the way you styled it this morning, with your chipped and grown out manicure, and especially with your lack of knowledge that Carmen was analyzing every inch of you. He felt guilty for looking - more than he usually did.

"I've been having those weird fuckin' dreams again. A-and these panic attacks, I think?" Carmens voice went softer, a whine of fear in his speech; he finally let his guard down just a bit. It was like just looking at you calmed him down enough so he could choke out another sentence.

"Shit. Still?" You asked, your nails pausing their annoying clack and tap so you could focus all of your attention onto Carmen. You remembered Natalie mentioning Carmen's recent manifestations of his stress, often asking if you'd just check up on him every once in a while, just in case she couldn't reach him.

"Yeah." Carmen replied, his voice airy and unsupported. His eyes were blue and desperate, and fixated on every part of your face. It made his thoughts narrow down to you; your weird sense of humor, your artful hands that illustrated your frustration when you complained about your day, even the perfume you wore every day that lingered around the jacket you left at his apartment (which he still hasn't given back to you.) Why would he? How could Carmen not keep a piece of you in his home?

You finally caught Carmen's gaze as you grazed the condensation on your glass of sprite — and you could see it in his face; the exhaustion, the anxiety, the need for stability in his eyes. You saw what this place did to him; what fixing this hellhole turned him into for a second time. It felt silly, controlling, nagging even, for you to assume that Carmen couldn't handle himself. But maybe that wasn't too unfair of an assumption; even if Sydney tried to condition you to believe that not every Carmy problem had to be a you problem.

"Jesus. I'm sorry." You clenched your teeth as you thought about his nausea spells he'd get every morning, remembering the dozens of empty bottles of pepto bismol littered around the kitchen counter of his apartment in New York. It was like you could still feel the sting of stomach acid your throat when you ended up puking every night after dinner rush; your digestive system completely empty from the lack of time you even had to keep your body intact. And yet, it was fucking everything. Your calloused fingers from the knives and the rasp in your throat from crying felt like a trophy; a mark on your person that forever reminded you of how great you once were.

What were you even doing here? Opening another thrift shop? But this time, it had a built in cafe; a cafe you dreamed of serving the best coffee in Chicago? Wow! What an original, realistic and inspiring concept. Like Richie warned the two of you: neither of you had any idea what you were doing back in Chicago.

Is it too late for me to understand you?

"Is this even.. I don't know — fun, for you anymore? Was it ever?" You croaked, tracing the tip of your middle finger along the rim of the glass — watching the little bubbles in the drink rise and pop. The question almost struck a nerve in Carmen, it forced him to think; really think.

"I mean... 'fun' isn't the word I'd use." He shrugged his shoulders, his face contorting into that typical confused look he always gave you. It made your heart ache.

"I don't like what it does to you."

"I'm– I'm trying to... to do somethin' here, Pico." His eyebrows knitted as his hands gripped just a little tighter against the counter.

"I know, Carmy. A-and you're doing great I just– I miss you." You barely whispered, crossing your arms almost trying to defend yourself as Carmen's face softened. His stomach dropped to his feet, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You two hadn't had a real conversation since the night you decided to quit, leaving Carmen to chase his success and even become Food & Wine's best chef without you. You hadn't cried in front of him since the day after Mikey's funeral: which neither of you could bring yourself to attend to. You'd been back home much longer than Carmen had; him coming home was so bittersweet. You needed him here. You needed him in the warm glow of your apartment, on your vintage couch as you shared the leftover pasta carbonara you made the night before. You forgot what his arms felt like around you, trying so hard to remember as you glanced at his tattoos.

"I miss you too."

TO BE CONTINUED BITCHESSSSSS!!!!!!