#anyways that's something i've been working on for a while

[waitingin4-4time]

So around about 2017 I started losing weight without going to the gym or making a big change to my diet. I called it the shitty job diet because my employer had been purchased by some venture capitol assholes and became a pretty shitty job pretty quickly.

In 2018 I quit that job, got a new one, and got a dog. I started walking 5 or 6 miles a day because my dog refused to go home unless we walked for like 2 hours a night. I was drinking so much water, and loosing so much weight.

In 2019 I was still losing weight, still walking the dog, still drinking so much water (and peeing all of the time), my feet were so dry and cracked you could fit a penny in there like a tire tread test. I had a sinus infection that just kept coming back.

And then I got hit by car while walking the dog. She was fine. My toes were not pointing the right direction at the end of my leg.

So I got my first ambulance ride and the attention of a lot of medical staff. One of fine folks in the ER asked me why my blood sugar was 300. I didn't know and was more worried about my very broken leg.

During my week in the hospital I did get to talk to a nutritionist about what foods have carbohydrates and why they are bad. I also spent less than 5 minutes with an endocrinologist who diagnosing me with type 2 diabetes without asking me a single question. I was still almost 200 pounds obviously it was type 2.

Metformin and kicking a decades long pepsi addiction worked for a bit, until it didn't. Obviously I just needed to really check those nutritional labels and get more exercise (with the limp and sometimes the cane).

In 2021 my doctor sent me to the office pharmacist to talk about a once weekly shot for the fat diabetics who can't control their A1c. We had a conversation that lasted more than 5 minutes. She said hey that sounds like LADA I'm going to order some tests.

Turns out I've got GAD Antibodies. Turns out no amount of hitting the gym and no carb dieting was going to fix my A1c. Turns out LADA is what you call it when doctors can't recognize Type 1 diabetes when it shows up in an over weight 30 something instead of a kid or a skinny person. Turns out I probably did give myself diabetes, but it wasn't pepsi and donuts. It very well might have been working through the flu for the shitty venture capitol assholes that convinced my immune system to start trying to kill me.

Anyway, this is all to say that it should be socially acceptable for me to kick people in the shins (or hit them with my cane when I have it handy) if they make jokes about food choices and diabetes.

This is Lulu she still doesn't want to go home until we've walked at least an hour.

damn people rly hate type 2 diabetics don't they

[rieamena]

“ UBI AMOR, IBI DOLOR ”

nanami kento .

contains: fluff if you're a real lover, angst if you're normal

word count: 1.6k

riea's comments: yk what's so funny guys, that really takuma work i've been talking about for the past few months or so, wypamn, yeah that one, its scrapped lmaooo lets all laugh. oh, that's not funny? oh, okay. anyways, here's something i wrote for it a while back, i hope you like it and THIS is my comeback work okay? NOT my clover. also, special shoutout to the loves of my lives, @mayyhaps and @chericos. i heart yall

you climbed into your car with a shaky exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it might ground you. the engine roared to life under your touch, and you tapped in satoru’s location on the gps with more force than necessary. the route lit up in bright blue, the estimated time mocking you like it somehow knew this night was going to be an ordeal

seriously—what the hell had gotten into kento? of all the people he could’ve called, invited out, confided in… it had to be satoru? and then on top of that, he drank himself nearly unconscious? kento, who once got drunk enough to reenact one of the scenes from his series in shakespearean english, apparently decided tonight was the night to spiral. and with him of all people

the tires hummed as you sped through dimly lit city streets, traffic lights smearing into streaks of red and green through your windshield. the night air hung heavy, pressing in through the crack in your window as you took sharp turns, your mind racing faster than your car. your jaw clenched with every block. if this was some elaborate setup for satoru to make you watch a 40-minute powerpoint-slash-conspiracy video titled " nanami kento is NOT the man you think he is", you were going to walk on the road and pray a car hits you

your phone pinged with a message just as you pulled into the curb:

satoru (sent 2 mins ago):

we're at bar ten. he's been talking about u for like 30 minutes straight and it's getting EMBARRASSING. pls hurry before he recites poetry

satoru (sent just now):

update: he just called your laugh "unfairly pretty" and now he's talking to a bottle of gin

you turned off the engine, sighing again

bar ten had that kind of music that never committed to a real genre. the bass was soft, almost pretending it wasn't there, and the conversations floated over it like bubbles waiting to pop. you scanned the room and spotted them quickly—suguru sitting in a booth with satoru clinging onto him comfortably, hands running through the others hair. kento was slouched across from them with his head tipped back, glasses discarded on the table before him and eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the correct answer to every bad decision he'd ever made

you approached slowly. suguru caught sight of you first, raising a brow and gesturing toward the table like, please deal with this

"kento?" you called softly, sliding into the seat next to him. it took a few shakes of his shoulder for him to realize someone else was there—you were there. you've only seen him get this drunk once before: a random night a few years ago. somehow the idea of a drinking competition filled the air and every bottle known to man was scattered across kento's kitchen island. little did he know, you had switched out your alcoholic beverages for water, but he was too dazed to realize. so while he drank and drank, you watched on

big, strong arms (though it seemed a considerable amount of their strength was gone) enveloped your frame, "my wife!"

it was a nickname he hadn't used since you were kids. "i want to be your husband when we're older! and you will be my wife! if you want to, of course…" a five-year-old kento said to you bashfully on a spring day at the park, weeds that he thought were flowers clenched in his outstretched fist. the name kept up for a couple of years but you never knew the reason why he stopped

"my wife is here! oh, how i've missed you." his speech was slurred, a result of downing a few bottles of whiskey, rum, and gin—it's a miracle that he's still conscious. his grip got even tighter on you as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, "ken?... ken? let's go home." feeling his head shift up and down and his soft breaths on your neck, you gathered all of your strength and lifted off the seat, managing to get him all the way to your car and relaxed in the front seat

by the time you pulled into your building's garage, the city had gone still. not quiet, but softer. as if everything outside had agreed to pause, just for a while. kento didn't ask which floor, didn't ask where to put his shoes, didn't hesitate before settling on the couch like it was his apartment

because it basically was. he'd been coming over since the two of you were kids—after school, after breakups, after shitty college nights where neither of you wanted to talk about what went wrong. this place had always been an anchor. and you never questioned letting him in

you poured a glass of water, eyeing him from the kitchen. "suguru's a menace," he slurred, ridding himself of his blazer and tie with a grunt. "and satoru's louder now than he was at sixteen, how is that possible?"

you cracked a smile, setting the glass on the coffee table. "i ask myself that every time i see him."

kento chuckled—a real one. then it twisted into something sadder. "they're good, though. together, i mean. they make sense. like puzzle pieces. even the jagged parts."

you sat beside him, not too close, but close enough to provide comfort—provide something. he seemed to be sobering up a little bit—after all, alcohol never stayed in his system for long. his eyes shut closed, like he was dissociating but he could feel everything: the cool air from the slightly open window, the fabric of his pants and collared shirt uncomfortably brushing against his skin like it wasn't supposed to do that, the flurry of words dedicated to you that might be impossible to string together even if given the chance, words that were accumulated over years of watching, waiting.

"i loved you before i even knew what that meant," he whispered. "i used to count how many times you said my name in a day. like an idiot."

"you remember that one summer," he continued, "when your ac broke and we just laid on the floor with popsicles all day? you were wearing that stupid tank top with the cartoon frogs."

you smiled, aching. "i remember."

"i couldn't even look at you without getting lightheaded."

he paused, "still can't."

he finally opened his eyes. they were glassy but clear enough to look right at you. right through you.

"i tried to date other people. i tried to un-feel it. but it's you. it's always been you."

you reached out, brushed your fingers against his hand. he caught them. he always did.

"i'm drunk," he said, voice cracking, "and this is unfair to you. but if i don't say it now, i never will."

the room fell silent for a while, heavy with the words spoken and those that didn't need to be. you'd thought kento had dozed off, the exhaustion and alcohol mixing,

but then softly—so softly it could've been mistaken for a sigh—he said:

"you looked too good in white."

you glanced down. his head was on your shoulder, but his eyes were open now, staring at nothing. he swallowed thickly, voice lower. "i told myself i could handle it. that it was just a shoot. just a fake wedding. but then you kissed me in that last shot—like it meant something—and i… i lost."

that shoot was for suguru's moonlight wine collection. you and kento were styled in wedding attire, with matching rings, a high-end ballroom, and a script that called for authentic intimacy. you didn't have to dig far, and it seems… neither did he.

kento pulled away slightly to sit up, rubbing his face. someone unfamiliar with him wouldn't have noticed, but you're his best friend, the one he loves. of course you noticed the slight change in his mannerisms, how he trembled, and how his khakis turned color when he stared downwards. and all it took was a comforting rub on his back to break the dam that was kento's bottled up emotions. he choked on his sobs—fighting everything possible to keep it together, to not completely break down.

"i've been in love with you for most of my life," he said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face but he never made an attempt to wipe them away. like it was his sin, his punishment, something he deserved for keeping it in for this long. "and then i had to stand under that damn arbor, with cameras on us, and look at you like you were mine… when you never were."

the memory flashed—your hand in his, his thumb tracing your knuckles between posing directions like it was muscle memory. the way his eyes never left you, even after the photographer called for a break. kento exhaled. "and i know you've got… everything. people who adore you. a world that spins with you at its center. but for one second that day, i let myself pretend."

"and then," he continued, almost laughing now, "the articles dropped. 'the most believable love story of the season,' they said. 'if you told us they were secretly together, we'd believe it.' and i thought, god, if only they knew how much i wished it were true."

kento has never experienced a first love or a first love. all he knows is a first love, and he's lost her.

for i am a fool, bound by the shackles of unrequited love.

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

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@oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath @atigerandabear

@russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @inoluvrr @1ndee

@yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd @e-dollly

@ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode @baekhyunsbestie

@vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[bees-library3]

Stay

Summary: After a routine hostage extraction goes wrong, you are shot while covering for Bucky, and the consequences are devastating.

Warnings/Tags: violence, gunshot wound, blood loss, trauma, HEAVY angst, canon level of violence, there is no happy ending, death, established relationship, female reader (she/her), no use of y/n

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I deeply apologize for the heartache that I'm about to put y'all through. If you follow me on the account that I have for The Walking Dead (@twd-bee3) and this looks familiar, it's because it was originally posted as a Daryl Dixon piece, and I just rewrote it to fit Bucky. I've been doing that lately so that I have things to post while I write new Marvel-themed works. Anyway, sorry for the fact that there's no happy ending. Love y'all <3.

The sound of gunfire splintered the air, and everything blurred around the two of you. This was supposed to be a simple hostage rescue, but you had run into complications. It was only you and Bucky, so things were getting dark fast. You guys had almost reached a secure room when there was another loud crack, and with you being in front of Bucky, you were hit by the stray.

You felt a sharp pain in your right side and cried out. Looking down, you saw the crimson blooming across your tank top and froze. “Oh shit.”

Hearing your pained gasp, Bucky spun you around so that he could look you over. He glanced down and saw the blood soaking your shirt. A cold sense of dread washed over him, and his eyes went wide.

“Fuck. No, no, no.”

“I don't know what to do, James.”

You were taking labored breaths, and you were already starting to stumble. The shock was setting in fast, and Bucky was even more desperate to get you to safety. The last of the men was bound to find you two if you stayed where you were. Acting on pure instinct, he lifted you into his arms and started running again. He was careful not to drop you and clutched your body close to his chest.

“Stay with me, baby. You're okay. We're almost there.”

His words were rushed, and his voice was strained. It felt like it took hours, but you finally reached the target room, and he made sure that the perimeter was clear of threats. Bucky laid you on a couch and frantically tore your tank top to get a clearer view of the gunshot. It was deep. Really fucking deep. There was no exit wound, but he tried to maintain some semblance of hope.

The blood was pouring from your abdomen, and he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. This was his girl, and she was bleeding out in a foreign room. Bucky used his hands to apply firm pressure, but the bleeding was relentless. Tears streamed down his face as he tried desperately to keep you with him.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just- just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?”

“I'm really trying, but I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired, Bucky.”

“Don't say that. You're okay. I've got you.”

Bucky kept his palms pressed against your stomach and watched as the blood seeped past his fingers like water. He needed to stop the bleeding before he could even think about attempting to stitch you up. Knowing that he needed to do more, he took off his shirt and applied more force against the wound.

You were only growing paler, and your eyes kept fluttering shut. You were trying to be strong and keep them open, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult. The sight of his baby going out on him made his chest feel heavy. He couldn't give up, though.

“Hey, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me. Please. Talk or something.”

Forcing your eyes open again, you nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Can you tell me something good?”

“Something good?” It took him a moment, but he was able to think of something, and he smiled weakly. “Remember that trip we're supposed to take?”

“Yeah. You're gonna take me to the beach and we're gonna put our feet-” your words were cut off with a sharp gasp, but you pushed through and kept speaking softly. “Our feet in the water. Sam's coming with us.”

Bucky's heart ached hearing how hard it was for you to speak, but he was proud of you for trying. You were making an effort to stay with him - that was all that he could ask for.

“Yeah, baby. We're all going to the beach. You aren't getting in the water, though. You never learned to swim.”

His words were teasing, but his tone was forced. He was grasping at straws to keep you awake. Bucky looked back down at the wound to see that the bleeding hadn't stopped. Your breath kept hitching, and the pit in his stomach grew. The shirt was soaked in your blood, and his forearms were caked in it - there was no fixing this. He didn't want to stop, but it was clear that his efforts were in vain.

Making eye contact with his girl again, exhaustion was written all over your face. The most that Bucky could do now was make you comfortable. Taking a shaky breath, he removed his hands from the fabric and gently stroked your cheek. The tears continued to flow.

Seeing your usually stoic boyfriend cry and the heartbreak in his gaze, you reached up to gently swipe some tears from his face. Your movements were weak, but it was obvious that you were doing your best to comfort him. You gave him a small smile and spoke again, your voice strained.

“Shhh, it's okay, my love.”

“No, don't try to comfort me. Not when you're dying in my fucking arms.”

His voice was rough and his tone was harsh, but it was obvious that he was devastated. Bucky couldn't stop crying, and his chest felt tight. Too tight. He knew that he needed to be strong for you, but he struggled to pull it together. He couldn't even speak through the sobs, so he resorted to gently stroking your cheek. Needing to be closer to you, he sat on the couch beside you and pulled you into his lap. He had never felt pain like this, and he could feel something breaking deep inside of him. This was a man who had lost so much, yet nothing compared to the way that his heart was breaking.

The sight of Bucky breaking down almost hurt more than the gunshot itself. His holding you was a small comfort, but you were still quickly fading. Your breathing continued to slow, and your eyes kept closing. You forced them back open and attempted to keep talking. Wiping his cheek again, you let your hand rest on the side of his face.

“I love you so fucking much, you know that right? Loving you is the only thing that I've gotten right.”

That only served to make him sob harder, and Bucky felt like a part of him was dying with you. He took ragged breaths and spoke through the tears. “I love you, sweetheart. More than anything. I'm so sorry that I'm not able to fix this.”

“You can't fix everything, James. This- this was bound to happen. I'm just glad that you're here with me.”

“Are you in any pain, baby?”

You felt a bit cold, but you couldn't feel the wound anymore. That only meant one thing - you were almost there. You shook your head and gently stroked his unshaven jaw. It was harder for you to speak, and your answers had been reduced to just a few words at a time. “No pain.”

Your answer confirmed what he already knew: he was losing his baby. By some miracle, Bucky was able to compose himself, and his tears slowed. He managed to keep the tremor in his voice to a minimum. He didn't want you worrying about him in your final moments.

“That's good. I don't want you to hurt. You want me to keep talking?”

Your eyelids flittered again, and you gave him a small nod. You were too drained to speak at this point, and your breathing was almost imperceptible. Your pupils were dilated, and it was hard for you to concentrate. You were listening to him, though.

“Remember when we came back from dinner the other night and Alpine had scratched up the side of our couch? She was purring and everything. Thought she'd done somethin' good. You nearly pissed your pants laughing so hard, and that only encouraged her more.”

Your lips curved in a small smile, but your gaze had started to lose focus. It was only a matter of minutes now, and the idea of that made Bucky feel hollow. He kept talking and absentmindedly stroked your cheek, though.

“Oh, remember the time when she brought that injured little bird into the house and you were hysterical? You thought that I was so mean for laughing. I felt like a total asshole, but you're cute when you get like that. You've got the biggest heart.”

Bucky kept rambling until he felt your chest still, and he glanced down to see that your lips were parted slightly. The eyes that he always got lost in were still open, but they lacked their usual light. You were gone.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Openly sobbing now, Bucky whispered softly and used his fingertips to gently close your eyes. He was at a complete loss for where to go from here. As he contemplated how to get you back home, he leaned his face down and gently kissed your lips. They were already slightly cooler than usual, and their pretty pink color had faded.

The two of you could probably get away with staying in this room for a few hours. It was late at night, and the space was secure enough. Besides, Bucky wasn't overly concerned about what would happen to him if he were found by those men. You were no longer here to fuss over his safety. The reminder made him sob harder, and his whole body was wracked with the force of it. He slowly rocked your limp form like a child and whispered unkept promises to you throughout the night.

[eternalgirlscout]

How did your upstairs neighbor CAUSE two men to break in?????

this story is both sillier and more of an accident than i made it sound, i promise!

two pieces of context:

our unit and the upper unit share a landing. there are more stairs past the door for the upper unit, but from the outside they look like they're on the same level.

my spouse and i were, at the time, very freshly moved in to our current apartment. unbeknownst to us, when the previous tenants locked up on their way out, they left the last key on the windowsill of the aforementioned landing.

so, late on a weekend night, our upstairs neighbor had a birthday party. two of her friends, slightly-drunk early 20-somethings, showed up to this birthday party at 2:30 am. being as they were slightly drunk and in their early 20s, when faced with the conundrum of which of the two doors in front of them belonged to their friend, they tried one door. it was locked. rather than proceeding to try the second door, they said, surely this must be a mistake. let's look around for clues! point-and-click game style, they said, aha!

use [key] on [door]

now, by this point, meg and i had been woken up by the sounds of two drunk guys debating what to do while rattling our doorknob in the wee hours of the morning. i got up to see what was going on, just in time to hear the deadbolt turn and see the door open.

please recall, i had just been woken up at 2:30am. i'm a notorious night owl, but working a 9-5 for the past 2 years has thrown me off my game. toss in the insomnia medication i've been acclimating to for a couple of months, and i was in a state of such delirious confusion that all i could think as i saw a 6-foot-tall smiling stranger open the door to my home was "it would be super weird for the maintenance guy to show up at this time of night, right?"

so all i could say, as a second young man appeared behind the shoulder of the first, was. "what?" and then, as if in explanation, one of them said "we're with them," pointing to the invisible party around the corner. and then i said, using the skills of elocution i'm so lauded for, "what?"

one second after that, the penny visibly dropped. they both backed out, apologizing profusely and looking more mortified than i'd ever seen anyone look (and i used to teach literature to undergrads, so i know from embarrassed 20-year-olds). i gently closed the door on a harmonizing chorus of "we're SO stupid," propped a chair in front of it in case there were any more confused partygoers, and went back to bed.

anyway, the next morning i politely texted my upstairs neighbor to ask what the fuck and/or shit happened—i wasn't mad! i was just worried there was something wrong with the deadbolt, because we had a laundry list of maintenance issues that were getting addressed that monday—and she was deeply apologetic as well. and then last week she asked if i could feed her cat for a week in july, and i was like, yeah sure.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Yeah, that's true," Travis agreed.

But it seemed that he had gotten the hint about what Willow was getting at.

"Heh, you can say that again," Travis said, "You got Martin with his voluntary work and finding a place that assigns therapy animals to people and the camping he likes doing, you got Truman with his film directing and love of theatre, you got Simon with his computer work, you got Bradley with his teaching and his nutritional knowledge, David with his farming and the love of the sea, me with the fitness talk and dancing skills, and Custard with his love of space, gaming and drums."

And of course, if Lewis was still here, his carpentry, his love for birds, and all the things he said to bring hope to others.

"Oh I didn't know that," Travis said. It was good to know it wasn't from some horrible injury at least, "But I'm glad that doing that didn't cause any notable drawbacks."

Travis smiled again then.

"And we're all thankful too," Travis said, before he then nodded, "All right, on we go."

With that, he started to follow Willow's directions as she gave them.

"Y-yeah, I, I can only imagine," Russell said, as he glanced around once more. He was also trying not to imagine it too hard, "Or, or your footsteps or, or just any-anything you, you might have said, said out loud."

If the volume had been just that little bit loud enough at least.

"But you made it work," Simon said, "And that's impressive. You made it habitable so you don't go completely insane when you have to do something in here."

Antonio's ear twitched at that.

"I'm surprised it didn't do it anyway," Antonio jokingly said, "With all the sassy energy I was most likely emitting while in here."

Leofric nodded.

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense," Leofric agreed, "And I will say that that impresses me further. Not that you need my approval of course. I just wanted to say it."

Antonio looked down at the coin he had picked up, and then back at Rook.

"Then I will make sure to take very good of it," Antonio replied with a small smile, as he placed into the chest pocket of his coat for the moment. He would find a better place for it when he got home.

"Oh he does," Leofric said, "And he really enjoyed creating some useful items with you back before we planned and carried out today's endeavours. Perhaps he might like to do that again."

"Thanks, Rook," Simon said.

"Y-yes, th-thank you," Russell said, before the blush on his cheeks darkened a bit at that comment, but he seemed to find the humour in at the very least, "Heh, m-maybe. I, I can't say I've, I've really felt the, the need to work out why. I'm, I'm just happy."

"That sounds like a good idea," Leofric said.

It seemed that Bill had indeed about to land as Rook had predicted. He had actually come to enjoy the experience, not that he was going to say that out loud in case Veronica decided he needed some kind of worse punishment.

But he had ended up not sticking the landing and completely falling flat on his face when everyone else arrived. But Bill still had to try and play it cool as he got himself stood up.

"Well, that was quite the trip, wasn't it?" he said with a grin, "How was yours?"

"I sure hope so. Things start going bad when we don't care anymore what happens to children."

"It must be quite interesting whenever you and the rest of your brothers meet up. With such a wide array of professions, you may never be at risk of running out of conversation topics." Willow chimed in. It was a touchy matter for Erica and she didn't want her to upset herself with the current topic too much.

"We have to take turns and there's just four of us!" The trick had worked perfectly. "Well, I didn't feel much pain as a zombie, but elves like me are just born with a hollow back. I don't know what it was for, it didn't really do anything. So I let Willow get rid of it."

"It was merely an aesthetic change that didn't interfere with Erica's magical affinity, as we have now confirmed."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Erica reassured, "But I guess that's why we didn't know about it. I'm glad Rook met Russell, though. We wouldn't know all of you guys if she hadn't!"

"And for that, we're both thankful."

Erica nodded fiercely at Willow's words, before looking ahead. "I think I've seen this part of the city before."

Right on cue, Willow started giving out directions.

"I had to do it for my own peace of mind. Imagine dropping anything in here. The noise will bounce back and forth for days." Rook said, before eyeing Antonio, "And I had to think of my guests. After all, if you're too sassy while in the void, the void will eventually sass you back."

Luckily, there weren't signs so far of the pocket having any level of awareness. Perhaps its artificial nature meant it'd never fully go beyond reacting to the presence of those tied to it.

"Oh, I really panicked at first." Rook admitted, "Because I kinda sneaked in to see where mum was going and I got left behind. But then I just got bored of the panic and started poking around again. I guess it's just the effect this place has on you after you've been here for a while."

It did help that after a while it occurred to her she wasn't feeling hungry or tired. Not being directly affected by the passing of time while being in that glorified broom closet took part of the urgency away.

"Alchemy and herbalism are different disciplines. The ability to directly control the temperature and intensity of our fire is however a major advantage." Veronica replied, "I wouldn't mind sharing some of my knowledge on the subject. It can be very useful at times."

It wasn't just good for creating huge piles of precious items they could treat like Lego, after all. Rook was glad to see her gift was being appreciated.

"Anything for my big bro. But that coin you picked," She paused to point at it, "that's a lucky one."

She proceeded to pass more pouches around, even holding one up so it could be stored in the drone for the time being. They'd figure out a way to get it over to Simon's place later.

"Thanks, Leofric." She offered a second bag, "I can't wait to see what he'll make with these. It seems like he really likes smithing."

"I'm no expert, but I'll do my best with it." Lucien said, standing up, "Russell deserves to have something that shines at least half as much as him."

Rook rolled her eyes, "You guys are so mushy. I bet it's all those sweets you two eat."

Still, she was very happy for what Russell and Lucien had going for themselves. It was clear it made both happy and that was all that mattered.

"Well, let's catch up with Bill. He should be almost at the exit by now."

[alnst-compilation]

[KOR/ENG/JP] IVAN INTERVIEW

ENG Ivan, the rookie star of commercials

Only two months into his career, Ivan has already been appointed as the ambassador for the famous luxury brand, Q. He is the first pet-human to become Q's ambassador.

Q's creative director added that ""Ivan's playful yet grounded image is the perfect fit for Q's various charms.

Winning first place in the recent fan popularity poll, Ivan is regarded as the next rookie star to follow in Luka's footsteps. Countless segyein brands are dying to collaborate with him, and he's already worked with 9 major brands. We can't help but wonder how his ever rising popularity will affect the next round of ALNST.

You've become extremely popular since the airing of Round 3. Do you feel the difference?

I do, every day. I was shooting a commercial the other day, and one of the staff members recognized me. During the early stages of the broadcast, I wasn't recognized much, but now there are crowds of people wherever I go. It's definitely a new experience (haha).

You're currently in the 78th rank. Do you think you'll reach the top 20 soon?

Thank you for putting it that way. I would like to reach the top 20, but I'll leave the choice to the audience.

You have many titles, do you have a favorite?

I read in a recent article that I was the "Blocell brand reputation ranking #1" - that's my favorite so far, because it makes me feel like all those days of shooting wasn't for nothing.

What do you think is your charm?

I can't really think of any, because I think I have more flaws (haha), but... hmm, I suppose the fans mention my snaggletooth a lot. I think my looks are quite average, but many of my fans remember me by my teeth.

Do you have a special secret for taking such perfect photos in your shoots?

I like to read up on the brand the day before the shoot. That way I can understand the directions clearly during the shoot. I think it's a basic requirement for a model to have an understanding of the brand. I also think it's important to take care of myself regularly.

What are your recent interests?

I'm only thinking about the next round. I can't stop, really. I try not to get too emotional... but thinking about how I'll be on stage for the first time with a childhood friend makes me want to do my best. I'm sure he's worked hard to come this far, and I hope he feels the same way.

What is your ideal type? Many segyein fans want to know!

I don't really have a type. I've never thought about it. But I guess there is one thing... No, never mind. (haha)

What does your normal day look like?

It hasn't changed much since my time in Anakt Garden. I guess I have a schedule now instead of classes. I work out in the mornings, and I like to read classics during my free time between shoots.

You must've been quite popular at Anakt Garden.

Not really, no. I've been asked out a couple of times, but I wasn't that popular. I did have a lot of friends, though.

Are you close with Till?

I'm not sure what defines "close." (haha) We were fine, I guess. That's about it.

What is your favorite part in round 3?

Towards the end of the chorus when the camera zooms in. I was actually quite startled, but thankfully it doesn't show in the clip. I always tell myself that I need to get used to the stage, but running simulations in my mind is never the same as the actual thing.

Did you have any memorable instances while preparing for this round?

I remember when I first tried on the costume. You know that belt on my thigh? It was quite heavy, so I thought to myself, "can I really wear this on stage?" I'm thinking of asking them for a lighter costume next time.

Speaking of the next round, how are you preparing for your performance with Till?

I'll have to do my best somehow... and do a good job. They say Till's a genius, so I'm sure it won't be easy to beat him. But I'll try my best anyway, like I always have.

Do you think you'll win?

Well... maybe, if I do something aggressive like him?

How is your relationship with your guardian?

Not bad. It's more of a business relationship, really. But I'm always thankful that they took me in. I try to be careful wherever I go, since they're quite well known (haha).

Do you have anything to say to your next opponent?

Cheer up...?

[pearlessance]

hello! I just finished the newest part of cupids chokehold (a little late I know lol) and I was gonna gush in the reblogs but then I decided. no. this deserves a full message

I just wanted to let you know that it drove me crazy in the best and worst way possible. I was crying, tears streaming down my face, can’t breath from snot ok. the way you write is so beautiful and the way you characterize Tommy and write him just feels so correct and yet is so extremely heart breaking at the same time because HE DESERVES SO MUCH AND I LOVE HIM. my heart breaks for them every time I remember that their love and relationship are so unlikely to succeed in the long run even though they love and need each other so deeply

anyways your work is just so amazing and I have been loving the Tommy love suddenly popping up in the TLOU fandom as of recently

you’re amazing and I (platonically, non-parasocially) love you<3

omgggg i’m so glad you liked it!!! it means so much to me that you think i write tommy in an authentic way, i definitely try to and just for mentioning that....i love you back x1000000 MWAH

i have a lot to say about these two and about uncle tommy in general so....buckle up?? i'm not normal about this man!!!!

anyway i feel like tommy is a deeply insecure person tbh. like i think he's one of those people that would never admit it but he seeks his validation in the way people view him and he wants to be seen the way people see joel; as this honorable, provider archetype of man. (especially pre outbreak)

but tommy's also very impulsive and emotionally driven while joel is the opposite. which is why sometimes he makes these decisions that blow up in his face, because in hindsight they're bad, but in the moment it had felt like the right thing to do. his bad choices are almost always rooted with good intent.

and i think reader is the same in being impulsive and emotionally driven. and that's what draws them together in the beginning. they see the good intentions and understand each other in a way that no one else around them does. and tommy loves that part more than anything. the intimacy of being understood.

you view him in this raw, mirrored sort of way. and you love him even with all of his mess, and it's got him all sorts of fucked up because he never would've guessed something like that was possible.

i can't say whether they'll have a good ending or a bad one as i've not written that far yet and i usually let the story write itself as im working through it, but i can say that whatever happens uncle tommy is 100% certain that you're the "love of his life."

i think tommy was fully aware that there were only two outcomes to this since day one. but i also think really early on he'd decided for himself that it would be you or it would be no one.

[nanenna]

And now I'm thinking about the actual plot I've been sorta playing with a little. I'll be honest, the reason I'm putting this all out is because I don't think I'm going to actually write it, but I wanna share the fun vibes. Anyway!

So getting some more BG lore out of the way: in the anime (the first season, at least, which is what I watched as a kid because it was new back then) Pokémon explicitly states that each region actually has more than 8 gyms, 8 is just the number of badges you need to fight the pokemon league of that region. So for this fakémon region (I'm calling it Justria after the Price of Peace) we're going to see 8 cities/gyms:

Gotham

Metropolis

Coast City

Middleton

Washington DC

Atlantis (an island just off the coast)

Central City

Fawcett

Amity Park

I'm debating on Amity Park though, I kinda want it to be like Lavender Town but I wouldn't know who to make the actual gym leader. Not Vlad, he's too busy running Dalv Co. and maybe still being the Mayor. Instead of being obsessed with Maddie... okay maybe he's still obsessed with Maddie but! Instead of being obsessed with making Danny his son he's now obsessed with getting his grubby paws on the fucking legendary the son of that bumbling oaf managed to catch. But back on topic: I might have Amity not have a gym after all, which means Danny 'n' friends need to go to the nearest city with a gym and/or pokemon center to register for their grand adventure.

That's right! It's a grand adventure, baybee! I was thinking my favorite thing currently for main DCxDP is Danny and Jason meeting while Jason was dead and then meeting again years later, so I'm going with something like: Jason and Danny meet while on their "congrats, you're 12! Now go wander around without proper adult supervision and get into lots of cock fights with your new pet seizure monster."

It's not uncommon for kids to go in groups, so I'm thinking Danny, Sam, and Tucker all go together. At some point they meet Jason at a pokecenter and make friends so they travel together for a while. Probably help fight off this region's version of Team Rocket, maybe split into 2 teams for part of it so Danny and Jason have to work together for a bit. Then after all that they come to a fork in the road.

Danny 'n' friends are going to head to Gotham to get the Aerial badge. Jason says he can't, that his family runs that gym so he's not allowed to challenge that one. Sadly they part ways, but they promise to keep in touch and to go challenge the League together.

Unfortunately things don't go so well for Jason. He and his Robin get into a bit of a tight spot, have a near death experience, and Robin evolves into Red Hood. It takes a long time to finally make it home and when they do everyone knows things went bad because Robins don't evolve into Red Hoods unless something went very wrong (or their trainer was an asshole).

Meanwhile Danny 'n' friends keep an ear out for Jason but they lose touch and stop seeing any mention of him (gyms keep public records of who's challenged them, and of course that's going to be displayed in the pokecenters). Danny holds out, but eventually they give up and go do their challenge of the League and Danny wins, hurrah!

Years later Danny and Jason meet again and reconnect. Phantom and Red Hood decide to play matchmaker. This is the part that's just vibes though. Like! Danny's retired, he did his whole challenge thing and it was fun but stressful and he's ready to focus on school and getting his dream job: astronaut. Jason is back in Gotham but he's been struggling to reconnect with his family and doesn't want to help at the gym so instead he's gone back to his roots and is doing charity work in Park Row Crime Alley. Romantic Comedy antics ensue.

DCxDP Pokemon-ish idea

Just a silly idea I've been kind of batting around while my hands are busy at work. Everyone is normal humans, their alter egos are their pokemon. So for instance: John Jones has a green Martian for his companion pokemon. The Kents give their children a Superboy or Supergirl for their first pokemon.

The Waynes traditionally give their child a Robin regardless of gender. Robin is the Eevee of this AU because there are several forms it can take. For instance: Dick's Robin evolved into a Nightwing and Tim's Robin evolved into a Red Robin. (This implies Bruce used to have a Robin that evolved into a Batman, which is of course what Damian is aiming for.)

Now obviously Danny's companion is Phantom. Not a Phantom, just Phantom. That's right, he's that kid that caught Zapdos thinking it was a Fearow. Danny comes home with his first pokemon showing it oof all "I caught ghost pokemon!" and showing off his brand shiny new legendary. He's ghost/ice type and knows all these cool moves! (I cannot be arsed to go find attacks that fit Phantom.)

Anyway! All that just to be backstory for this DeadonMain story idea: Phantom and Red Hood like each other, so it's up to them to get their trainers to hook up.

[wheucto]

it's tuesday! bfb taco as a cat cause why not

[v-poreons]

That's it that's their dynamic

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[harbingersecho]

who the fuck is allison

[undomesticated-animal]

Some tags from @hyenaboycunt, @darethebrave, and @seimsisk that really cut to the quick of what I was trying to do here.

Tag Set #1

#absolutely love this piece#it took a moment for me to properly catch on since i dont think ive encountered written spanglish before#relevant linguistic background for me:#monolingual english speaker‚ 3 years of latin in HS‚ & familiar with pronunciation rules for spanish#plus a few friends/acquaintances who've spoken spanglish around me (but they're not consistently part of my life)#so i did the monolingual thing and focused on the obviously english paragraphs first#but once i grokked what i was looking at i started over#when reading English i dont really have an internal voice. i usually know the words and what they mean#(i sometimes completely miss out on written puns because of this‚ funny enough)#anyway. i started over. and i know the pronunciation rules but i dont have much experience reading spanish.#so i had to sound out a lot of it (internally) while i was reading.#and i was surprised by how much i understood when i could “hear” the words#even if i absolutely couldn't translate them.#and i did have to look to the english paragraphs for help of course‚ but less often than i expected#it's funny too that i was reminded of two people in my life who i hear speak like this. one is a friend's mother and i can HEAR the way#the way she says “mijo” to her son (my friend)#the other is a family friend I haven't thought of in YEARS but this writing has me hearing her voice and seeing her mannerisms so clearly.#I'm enamored with how actually thinking about the *sounds* both 1) made this exponentially more comprehensible to me#and 2) brought to mind the voices of family friends speaking to their children#it feels so very much like *home*#not my specific home. but it's something I've personally only heard spoken in places that *feel* like home.#really wonderful writing here Domi.#there's more thoughts churning but ironically words fail me. and tragically i dont have any other languages i can try

Tag Set #2

#i haven’t used my three years of high school spanish in quite a while#but what a linguistically fun reading challenge!#also a very good poem OP thank you for sharing#it was neat to catch the little differences between the paragraphs#art#poetry

Tag Set #3

#this sentence applies to all languages I think#everyone go read op's tags please#I do not speak Spanish but I can read it more of less fluently because I'm Brazilian and it just works like that#reading the spanglish versions felt so good#and I related to so much of it even if my circumstances are completely different#I have been through the experience of trying to date in English and it was such a mess#how to explain to a gringo the meaning of carinho? carente?

I had a really public meltdown a few months back because something happened during a date that made me realize I had slowly let my entire love life happen in English. And while I didn't [and still don't] feel like the answer is to demand that my partners learn Spanish in order to talk with me, I did realize that part of why I felt so thoroughly alienated from affection in my relationships is because it is in Spanish and Spanglish that I feel verbal care and affection. English feels....sterile and professional. Which is maybe a reasonable outcome of a world where "home" welcomes my polyglot behavior and "the rest of the world" gets irritated with me for requiring extra work of them to communicate.

It somehow never seems to occur to people that the work they dislike having to do for me will have to get done regardless, and what they are objecting to is literally my attempt to not carry and perform all of that work alone and unsupported in relationships that are meaningful to me.

That's a dynamic that's hard to vocalize to others unless they already internally recognize the experience and can pick up on it.

My partners still don't speak Spanish. But these days I do. Almost universally in my relationships, Spanish and Spanglish are verbalized markers of my feelings of intimacy, care, and trust in another. I use more over time as I become comfortable, I rely almost exclusively on common MexíCalí pet names and diminutives for partners, and the more relaxed/less rigidly self-managed I am, the more likely I am to simply reach for Spanglish first and foremost.

When I wrote this, I wrote the English paragraphs first. It took a little while, but it was doable because I use English A LOT in my professional and personal life obviously. Next I wrote the Spanish. This was harder. I have few people to keep up with, so I was anxious about mixing up my spelling, my grammar, my vowel modifiers, etc. I did a lot more checking and rechecking of my work to ensure that I was not misremembering my conjugations and grammatical structures.

I wrote the Spanglish last. I wrote it in under five minutes. I wrote it without once feeling the need to confirm my grammar or vocab. I wrote it and immediately felt it conveyed my tone and intention far better than either monolingual version. It was the closest thing I've ever felt to not having to "translate" my thoughts for someone else, and I spent a little time after just quietly having a cry about reaching my 30s before ever letting myself write the way I think, before letting myself trust my partners and loved ones with this part of me that is so integral to how it feels to be at home with another person.

I actually considered recording myself speaking the poem aloud because I agree with @hyenaboycunt that the way I write is meant to be read aloud, not read in one's mind, and there were several times reading it to myself that I realized reading it would lose something too. Several words where my accent and pronunciation was not the same as the language of the word itself, or where the blending went further than simply mixing and matching words within a sentence. I still might take a recording, we'll see. I really do think it's the next logical place for this art piece to go. But I also know that speaking is so raw and vulnerable to me, and while I would typically just have someone else do the recording, this is a circumstance where that wouldn't solve the issue at all. It has to be me. And ironically, that's what may end up limiting me from being able to do it. Yet again, my relationship with language being complicated creates barriers to communication that even *I* can barely recognize without real intentional thought. How can I expect others to see how much I do to be understood when I can barely admit it to myself?

En íngles, y otra vez in Spanish

No sé to describe mi relationship con mi lingua. Complicado, I suppose. No sé qué the words that will come en mi mente primary, y sometimes es difícil traducir between las idiomas. Creo que most people figure translation ser word-for-word, pero no es menos un pequeño here and there. Sometimes I look for las palabras exactamente por way too long y sientame abrumado. People act like eres estúpido if words are hard for you. Y adorame cual ser talking down a mi en bed, pero tiempo otros I get so angry when people decide no es importante para mi tiene tiempo enough communicarse. I don’t know how to describe my relationship with language. Complicated, I suppose. I never know which words will come to me first, and sometimes it’s hard to translate between languages. I think people expect translation to be word by word, but it so rarely is. Sometimes I search for the correct replacement word for way too long and it makes me feel so overwhelmed. People treat you like you’re stupid if you struggle with your words. And I like to be talked down to in bed, but the rest of the time it makes me so angry when people decide it’s not important for me to have the time to communicate properly. No sé cómo expressar mi social relación con la idioma. Quizás complicado. Nunca sé qué palabras vendrán primero a mi mente y, a veces, es difícil traducir entre los languajes. Creo que la mayoria de la gente se figurarán que la traducción sea palabra por palabra, pero raramente está. A veces trato de encontrar la palabra exacta durante demasiado tiempo y me poniendo abrumado. La gente actúa como si fueras estúpido si las palabras están costarían. Y adoro que me traten con condescendencia en la cama, pero si no me airado mucho cuando la gente decide que no es importante para mí tener tiempo para comunicarme. I wonder often how it feels hablar o necesitar solamente una idioma, y inglés at that. ¿Reconocéis how much nuestro uso de language changes how nos entendemos y our place aquí en es? I often wonder how it feels to only use or need one language, and English at that. Do people realize how much our language changes how we understand the world, our place in it? Me pregunto con frecuencia qué se siente hablar o necesitar solo una idioma, y ​ lo que es más, inglés. ¿Reconocéis todos de lo mucho que la idioma cambia nuestra comprensión del otros y nuestras relaciones sociales? La idioma es all about relationships. La forma de la palabra implies más y mucho about la context sociales en el que it’s spoken. Crecí con myriad trozos de significado in each sentence spoken. English feels desolado en momentos. ¿Cómo se dice mijita como en una chica que es carnal para mi con el tono solamente? En inglés, estan mucho emphasis en the meaning of body language and I imagine los otros rarely notice this. Maybe por eso I have such a bad time entender mi role para las vidas de mis quieridos. Menos Mamá, lo no tengo con que hablar Spanish. Pero maybe menos los diminutivos y verbalizacion de relationships sociales en nuestro day to day conversacion, no créo sé how to fill la falta. Quizás part of el problema conmigo y my understanding of non-verbal communicación, and I figure it out claro que si, pero I forget how often no es necesito hacer que.

Spanish is all about relationships. The shape of a word implies so much about the social context in which the word is being used to communicate. I grew up with so many layers of meaning in every sentence spoken. English feels almost desolate sometimes. How do you convey that you are calling someone baby girl with the love you have for family with only tone? There is so much weight put on non-verbal communication in English that I think people rarely notice. Maybe that’s why I have so much trouble understanding my role in the lives of my loved ones. Aside from my mother, no one I love speaks Spanish well enough to use it with me. But maybe without those little suffixes and verbalization of social relationships in our day to day conversation, I don’t know how to fill in the gaps left behind. Maybe some of the conflict in how others speak and how I hear their words is the absence. I’ve never been good at reading body language, and I surely figure it out in Spanish too, but I forget sometimes how many little spaces it isn’t necessary in my mother tongue. La idioma del espanol es una cuestión de relaciones. La forma de una palabra expresarse mucho del contexto social en el que se habla la palabra. Crecí con tantas trozos de significado en cada oraciónes hablado. La idioma del inglés es desolado por momentos. ¿Cómo se dice mijita como en una chica que es carnal para mi con el tono solamente? En inglés se pone mucho énfasis en el significado que expresa el cuerpo y imagino que los otros ven es raremente. Quizás por eso me resulta difícil comprender mi ubicación social en las vidas de mis queridos. Menos mi madre, nul de mis quieridos habla español con sultura para usarlo conmigo. Pero sin esos diminutivos y la charla sobre relaciones sociales en nuestras expresiones, no sé cómo llenar la falta. quizás un componente del problemo en cómo entiendo a los demás es la falta de contexto. Soy malo para interpretar el expressiones corporal, y también lo entiendo en español, claro que si, pero olvido que con frecuencia no es necesario en mi lengua materna. Me pregunta how it is por la gente del otra cara. ¿How is it to see how much más acepción there is anytime una palabra cambia en español? ¿What do you notice changing when leé lo que está escrito aquí? I wonder what that is like for people on the other side of the coin. How does it feel to realize how many componants of a single word can be changed in Spanish to convey meaning? What do you see change when you try to navigate my language? What was it like to read this post? Me pregunto cómo será eso para la gente del otro cara. ¿Cómo es ver los muchos pequeños cambios en una palabra que tienen significado? ¿Qué ves cuando intentas interpretar mi idioma? ¿Cómo fue leer lo esto obra? Some say a mi está buenísima that I lapse en el español during sex. Some react poorly when I cambio en medio idiomas. Otros no tienen any reaction at all. No creó sé what I want people entender para mi behavior. Yo sé quiero to be loved en mi context. I know this makes la spoken idioma un dificíl way para mi aceptar love. I wonder how entendeís conmigo. Sometimes people tell me it’s hot that I lapse into Spanish during sex. Sometimes people react with visible discomfort whenever I move between languages. Others don’t have any reaction at all. I don’t know how to convey to someone what meaning I want them to take from this behavior. I know that I want to be loved in my own context. I know that I cannot be loved in a context others lack. I know this makes language a difficult form of love for me to accept. I wonder how others would come to understand that about me.

Algunas personas me dicen que está buenísima que hablo español cuando folo. Algunos reaccionan en contra de con desasosiego cuando cambio en medio idiomas. Otros no tienen ninguna reacción. No sé cómo decir qué espero que interpreten de esta acción. Quiero ser quierido en mi propio contexto. Sé que no puedo ser quierido en un contexto de lo cual otros es falta. Es difícil para mí aceptar la idioma hablado como una forma de cariño porque que esto verdad. Me pregunto cómo los otros entienden eso de mí.

[pearsandrust]

in the 2.1 quest, aventurine has this interesting bit of dialogue with his future self:

??? (Aventurine's future self): Haha, of course, I know you all too well... But, it's strange — why did you decline that invitation? You had the chance to embrace Elation. Was that not what you most wanted? But you chose the IPC instead... ???: For the Preservation? Hmph, I doubt it. Do you even have anything in common with the Preservation? Aventurine: I thought you knew... Didn't you say you had me pegged?

aventurine's future self is snarky, cynical, condescending. he's fully committed to the "reckless gambler" persona, abandoning all else for the sake of keeping up his facade. he never stops acting, and so his beliefs align perfectly with those of the elation, an aeon associated with trickery and theatrics. what aventurine's future self fails to take into account in this conversation is that present aventurine is not only him, but rather a superposition of his past and future selves. in other words, he's forgetting that kakavasha is also a part of the present aventurine. and while aventurine may not have much in common with the preservation, kakavasha does.

kakavasha bet his life on his sister's necklace. he kept his father's shirt, even after it was drenched in blood. all he wanted was to preserve the lives of the people he loved, and that is why aventurine believes in preservation more than elation. because he is still kakavasha at his core.

so when aventurine says "I thought you knew", he's not trying to mock his future self. it's more of a hopeless statement, a final admission of defeat. he says it because in that moment, he realizes that he will one day forget his origins. he says it because he looks at his future self and finds no trace of the person he thought he was. that's why he's so angry in his next line:

Aventurine: We're done. Either stop talking, or disappear from my sight. ???: That's fine. But, who exactly is about to disappear here?

and his future self's reply just solidifies his biggest fear: that he really is going to lose himself in the act.

aventurine is always, always losing. every passing day takes him further away from his family, his home, and the person he used to be. and as terrible as it is, he knows his future self is right -- he will eventually disappear underneath the facade. kakavasha, the only version of himself he loves, will die. and then he'll truly have nothing left.

it is all so ironic. the universe's luckiest man, and he couldn't even save himself.

[starflungwaddledee]

did you remember to leave space for all your phantom limbs?

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ kirbytober 2024 #03 ★⋆ miracle // phantom // magic

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3