#i’ll draw something else at some point to try and fit that in..

[bluuscreen]

haven’t done a fun messy painting in a minute so here’s a funny little experiment

[sfblah]

Big Nose Dragon GF

I did the thing. Tapped into my hidden power. Tranced for a couple hours and banged out something pointlessly self-indulgent. I hope you also find some enjoyment in it.

Female sneezes, nose play, f/unspecified

-----

Having a draconata girlfriend is pretty awesome.

Having any kind of girlfriend is already great, but then imagine your girlfriend is also literally a dragon. Or at least a dragon in a human body. Kind of. A dragon in a human body that’s almost eight feet tall. Plus there’s the slightly pointed ears, and the fingernails that kinda taper a little bit. Maybe she just trims them that way, I dunno, I guess I haven’t asked. Look, I’m not gonna sit here and salaciously describe every last detail of her body. Only some of them.

Sometimes I wonder why she, you know, chose me. I don’t have time to get into the minutiae of my own self esteem issues, so I’ll just say I’m glad she did. Point is, underneath all the muscles and the resting scary face and all that, she’s actually really sweet. I run tutoring sessions as part of my work study, and one day she just came up to me and very earnestly asked for my help.

Her name’s Aster, by the way. Don’t wanna leave that out.

Anyway, tutoring turned into study dates, and somehow study dates turned into drinking one milkshake with two straws. Now we’re cuddling on her big ol’ draconata-sized bed. We tried it on mine once, but her legs hang off the end and she constantly has to hunch over everywhere in my place. Not ideal. I really don’t mind the size difference though, and not even in a ‘step on me mommy’ kind of way. Not saying that doesn’t factor into it at all, just we don’t have many compatibility issues except for it’s a bit tricky for her to be the little spoon.

Words cannot fully express how cute Aster is, but I’m gonna try anyway. Her chest is right in front of me, right now. That’s just where I naturally fit when we snuggle like this, I swear I really am that lucky. Her skin’s kind of a carbon gray, and it’s like… Surprisingly soft, except for the bands of scales around her belly. Those and her hair are this really pretty, shiny purple. No lie it actually looks kinda glittery almost. Right, right, salacious. But now you get the picture, I hope.

Okay. This is where I may start to lose some of you. If I tip my head back and look up at her, past that strong jawline… I don’t know how else to describe this, so, uh. Aster has a really big nose. Like honestly it’s huge. Hear me out. I don’t know if it’s big by draconata standards, but proportionally for a human, it’s just… Wow. But that’s a good thing! To me it is, anyway. We’re not a very kissy couple, but whenever we do, feeling it press against my cheek… It’s like her face is hugging my face.

I’m rambling. Moving on. Looking up at Aster’s nose from below, she has these really long, big nostrils. The kind that sorta curve and angle toward each other as they extend away from her lips. I could probably fit two whole fingers in just one of them with room to spare. Not that I’ve tried it, but I can admit the thought has crossed my mind.

I reach a hand up to Aster’s face. Whether she notices or not, she remains tranquil. Then I tap the wide tip of her nose with one finger. Boop. The soft skin gives way just a little. A tiny moan escapes her throat, as if she’d been asleep until just then. I give her another boop, but this time I don’t draw my finger back, keeping it touched to her nose. I push the tip up, her long nostrils stretching farther, and then they wobble back into place when I finally remove my hand. I do it again. A couple times, until Aster finally acknowledges it.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles. Her voice is naturally deep and serious, but I can hear her smiling.

“Nothing,” I mutter back, pushing her nose up once more. This time she recoils a bit, scrunching her face. She sniffs, the power of her breath causing her nostrils to suck in for a brief moment.

“Well, nothing is tickling my nose,” Aster complains, bringing her own hand to her face. She gives that great big nose of hers an upward wipe with her palm before finishing with another strong sniff.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, withdrawing my hand slightly. Aster looks down at me, her sharp eyes meeting mine. Her face is placid, but with a slight shyness to her expression. She does this a lot when we’re alone, and it destroys me every time.

“Do you… Like it?”

I nod, feeling my face heating up. I can see a faint blush on Aster’s cheeks too. The corners of her lips curl just a little, and then she pulls me up a bit higher on the bed, bringing my face closer to hers. She tips her head back to a neutral angle, and her hot breath washes over me as she exhales.

“Go ahead, then.”

I may not survive this.

I return my fingertip to Aster’s nose, this time pushing it around in little circles. She’s bashful at first, but after a moment her smile begins to widen. Suddenly she interrupts me with another harsh sniff and a vertical wipe of her nose.

“Sorry,” I offer, but she continues to smile. Aster shakes her head, calmly rubbing her fingers back and forth under her nostrils. Her nose crinkles and bends just above the tip, the base following her hand as she swipes.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice a little blocked as her fingers obstruct her nostrils. My voice catches in my throat. I want to ask her to keep rubbing. She just looks so adorable. Somehow vulnerable and self-assured at the same time. Her nose tickles, but she can handle it herself. I’m so caught up trying to think of something to say that I don’t notice her scooting closer until I feel the tip of her nose touch me. Aster wipes her nose down my cheek, her nostrils stretching and contorting across my skin. For a moment her whole nose is mushed against my face. I’m seeing stars.

“I love your nose,” I blurt. Well, no going back now. But it’s the truth. So there’s that.

“Yes, I can tell,” says Aster, rolling her eyes. Sure enough though, she keeps smiling. I stare into her eyes, and I can feel myself smiling too. I think she even let out a little giggle. Hearing Aster laugh, even when it’s small and quiet… It’s just the best.

Suddenly, Aster’s gaze becomes distant. Her lips part, and her big, long nostrils bow outward, widening her broad nose even further. Unable to suppress a giggle of my own, I extend one finger and hold it horizontally under Aster’s nostrils, pushing upward gently. The slope of her nose creases just above the tip, and then the whole bridge scrunches up tightly, pulling her nostrils away from my finger. Even when she’s literally about to sneeze all over me, her face is so freaking-

“hhHHRAAHSHHHHUHH!!!”

A thunderous sneeze shakes the bed, but that’s not what startles me most. Aster’s nostrils erupt with two columns of smoke, my puny finger doing nothing to impede them. My vision goes dark, but even amidst the confusion I can hear and feel Aster getting up from the bed and plodding away. My heart sinks, though I get a bit of relief when she opens a window, allowing the smoke to dissipate. I wave away as much of the soot as I can, and I find Aster standing against the wall, her outstretched fingers sliding back and forth underneath that nose of hers.

“I’ve… Never seen you sneeze before.”

Aster rolls her eyes at me again.

“I think you mean ‘gesundheit.’”

“Right, uh. Sorry. Bless you. I didn’t mean to, uh…”

“I know,” says Aster, her smile returning. “Besides, I think you learned your lesson.”

I look down at myself as she points at me, and I’m predictably covered in ash. Before I can stop myself, my stupid mouth opens.

“I learned that I love it when you sneeze, too.”

Aster grabs the quilt and yanks it off the bed, sending me tumbling to the floor. When I sit up, she throws the crumpled blanket into my face.

“Clean this up. Then maybe we can try again.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a black belt and joining Cobra Kai

Cobra Kai x reader

warnings:

a/n: takes place roughly season 2 yeehaw. EMCON I HOPE U LOVE THIS

prompt: @the-radio-star: “*rises from the dead to send in a cobra kai request* could I please request Cobra Kai headcanons for being a new student in the Valley who was a black belt back home on the East Coast? thank youuuuuu!!!! COBRA KAI NEVER DIES”

you were da new kid in the valley

and you were actively seeking a new dojo

and what better dojo to pick than the one that won the “all valley championship” or whatever? i mean, it’s gotta be good, right?

one day after class, you visited this “cobra kai” dojo and recognized a few kids from your new school

and perfect timing as summer was just around the corner

“hey, new kid! joining our dojo? here to learn some karate?” -hawk

“actually, i’m a black belt” -you

“hah, nice one!” -hawk, followed by deafening silence “you’re serious?”

“yeah, uh, where’s your sensei?” -you

“he’s in his office, follow me” -miguel “sensei, a newcomer”

“hell yeah, come on in” -johnny “starting your karate journey with cobra kai, not a bad choice”

“actually, i’m a black belt back home. i just moved here from the east coast and i needed a new…dojo home. you guys won a tournament recently?” -you

“we sure as shit did!” -johnny

“well, i’ve won a few tournaments back home. i also have a letter of recommendation and my sensei’s contact information if you need verification or something that i’m—” -you, abruptly cut off

“nah, i don’t need all that shit. just come out onto the mat and i’ll have you fight our champion. that’ll tell me what i need to know” -johnny

you followed his instructions and walked out to the mat where his class was waiting. he instructed them to make room for a spar and called miguel up.

“class, this is…uh, what was your name?” -johnny

“y/n” -you

“this is y/n from all the way on the east coast…somewhere vague. says their a black belt in karate. won a few tournaments. we’re about to put that to the test” -johnny

you and miguel took fighting stances and once “fight” was called, you quickly took action to prove yourself. a few showy moves, then straight for the victory.

miguel was on his back on the mat in less than 10 seconds

“well, i’m inclined to believe you, y/n. come to my office, we’ll fill out some paperwork and get you a gi. miguel, you can lead warmups so long as you don’t get knocked on your ass again today” -johnny

“yes, sensei” -miguel

“man, i’m glad i didn’t have to fight them. that must have been embarrassing” -hawk

“shut up, man. sensei is mad at you, too. don’t push it.” -miguel

honestly, you were very surprised by the karate culture of the valley

“is—is this why my mom had to sign a waiver?” -you standing in front of a fucking cement truck “is this even legal?! is this how you guys train??”

“just don’t draw attention’s to yourself and you’ll be fine” -bert

“yeah, sounds like a plan. and what’s this old guy’s story?” -you, pointing at kreese

“dude. you’re gonna get me drowned in cement” -bert, scooting away

anyways, joining the dojo did help you make some new friends

and you loved these beach days with your classmates

“dude, dating the daughter of your sensei’s arch nemesis is kind of crazy. like, what are the odds of that” -you

“can we not talk about sam anymore?” -miguel

“you’re literally the one that brought her up, we were just trying to play volleyball” -you

dojo days really started to become your favorite

sensei lawrence was comedy gold

“does he actually think ‘hashtag’ is ‘hashbrown?’” -you

“just…don’t” -aisha

you loved how cut and dry he was

and how he just insults everyone unapologetically

“yeah, sensei, you tell ‘em!” -you after johnny calls someone else a pussy

you actually started to get in the groove of rivalry

but like you didn’t 100% know it was serious and like, very deep seated hate like you thought it was a bit

“yeah we should burn their dojo down!” -you, trying to fit in

“i like how you think, lets do it!” -hawk

“wait, no, i was joking” -you

“hahah, yeah…me too” -hawk, lying

during valley fest you guys but on like, a really badass show and you honestly loved the vibes

but like, this wasn’t like any dojo you’ve seen before

“it’s gotta be a west coast thing. or like, a california thing” -you to your parents

you became one of johnny’s favored students fast

and when tory joined up, she also fought miguel

“does sensei just let miguel beat up all the new recruits? what is the sense behind that? tory doesnt even have karate experience.” -you

“neither did miguel and he won the all valley” -aisha

“HE DIDNT HAVE ANY EXPERIENCE??” -you

what do you mean the all valley top 3 were all new to karate???

who else was in this tournament????

you went to the beach/resort with aisha and tory and it was actually a good time. you were glad to make friends over the summer

“aisha, i never want to leave this place. summer in california is awesome” -you

“compared to where you came from? i’d be in awe too” -tory

“uh, that was rude” -you “but true”

meeting sam after hearing miguel complaining was surreal

“that’s her? he didn’t mention she hated fun” -you

johnny let you lead class sometimes

which kind of gave you an ego boost he encouraged

you be glaring at sensei kreese tho that guy didn’t have the right vibe

“good job today, y/n” -kreese

“yeah, i know” -you

you were pretty excited for the prospects of the next all valley

which you wish you didn’t miss by a hair this year you could have kicked miguel and robby’s asses

“i would have won the last all valley” -you

“doubt it” -miguel

“i knocked you on your ass five minutes after meeting you” -you

“that wasn’t a tournament” -miguel

“just you wait” -you

you called home every once in a while to update your friends from school and your dojo friends

“what? cement truck? that’s not legal, y/n, you need to contact the police” -old friend

“nah, it’s fine, i had fun” -you

definitely raised concern in your former sensei, but you told everyone it was chill

“it’s cool to learn a different take on karate. very…badass” -you

you were being converted (?)

or would you stick to your roots

only time would tell

you learned more and more about the local karate drama and you were SAT with all this tea

“yeah, and so, don’t tell anyone this, by the way. or else i will kick your ass” -hawk, beginning to whisper “robby keene is sensei lawrence’s kid. shut the fuck up tho dont tell a single soul”

“WHAT” -you

that knowledge had you on the floor with a diagram of drama to connect the dots

“ok so in the 80s johnny was a student at cobra kai, larusso was new to the valley from jersey, starts to train in karate with a ‘mr. miyagi,’ larusso crane kicks johnny and johnny leaves cobra kai—something has to be missing from that, kreese was his sensei? he seems a little off i dont like him—johnny reopens cobra kai years later after miguel inspires him to become a sensei, miguel starts dating larusso’s daughter, johnny’s son starts working for larusso and joins his dojo, miguel and robby face off in the all valley tournament. am i missing anything?” -you

“you’re just scratching the surface” -hawk and miguel

“get me up to speed before school starts. please” -you

you got the sam edition(tm) from aisha too

AND aisha’s very graphic rendition of her standing up to yasmine

“front wedgie…aisha how did you even think of that?” -you

honestly you wanted to observe the drama, not be apart of it

little did you know that was not really an option in CK

especially when the miyagi do dojo is defiled

you kinda side eyed hawk while johnny yelled at everyone about it. he did seem pretty enthused when you made a joke about burning down their dojo

damn, you hoped no one would bring that joke up thats actually really incriminating

anyways, johnny went on his trip with his old cobra kai homies (which u thought was really sweet you hoped in 30 years you could still be friends with your less-destructive karate buds)

you went to coyote creek with the gang for a training exercise

“you ever do anything like this back home?” -tory

“uh…not really? i mostly did weapons training, kata, some sparring…in a dojo, of course” -you

“yeah, sensei lawrence isn’t exactly the most traditional” -miguel “when i was his only student he actually tied my hands and threw me into a pool in the middle of the night when no one was around”

“HUH??” -you

once you were all deep in the forest and the rules were explained to steal headbands and such, you had a question of your own

“are there any animals or bugs native to california i should be concerned about? like, florida had alligators and their student get trained to run away in zigzags—is there anything out here that you guys have been trained to escape that i should know about?” -you

your question was laughed at but you were dead serious

u were on miguel’s team and noticed an awkward rift once the “battle” was over

“dude, what’s wrong?” -you

“this is” -miguel flashing the medal of honor he took from hawk

“is that..?” -you, connecting more dots “i think i need a notebook or something to keep up with this”

“that’s weird. don’t do that” -miguel

“noted” -you

you were shocked to hear that kreese had been booted from CK

“i wonder if miyagi do has this much drama?” -you

before the summer was over, hawk’s ex moon threw a party and you were over the moon (haha get it) to be able to meet more people before classes were back in

maybe making friends outside of the dojo was a good move

unfortunately it didn’t take long for dojo rivalry to ruin the party

we got moon’s new gf, hawk and demetri argument, sam and tory drink-off, sam and miguel kiss, and then the cops showing up

“we just cant have a non-messy outing can we? on the east coast we could just go to school, go to the dojo, go to the mall, go to parties and no one got in some weird karate driven fight” -you, complaining while running from the cops

“can you stop talking about the east coast? you’re in the valley, this is what happens in the valley” -miguel

you try a hard reset when your first day of school starts

meet up with your friends, find your classes, have a great first day of the new school year!

everything had been tense since moon’s party, but you weren’t gonna let that affect you!

until tory got on the PA and summoned sam for a karate brawl

“no fucking way. no way. i cannot be apart of this” -you

it did not take long until you were apart of this

in the hallways of your new school, terrible way to start the year, you were just trying to break it up!!!!

but as soon as someone hit you in the face all bets were off you were a menace

blah de blah blah tory cuts sam with her bracelet, robby throws miguel over the railing down the stairs, everybody gets a vibe check, miguel is in the hospital in a coma, tory is arrested, robby is on the run

miraculously you have been cleared of all wrongdoing as you talked your way out of it

“i’m new here, i don’t even know these people!! i was just scared for my life so i fought back. i could have been thrown down the stairs too, my parents could sue!!” -you

despite all your dojo rivalries, you checked in on sam when you crossed paths at the hospital. you knew how much she meant to miguel and you thought that was fucking insane

“i know we don’t really know each other from anything but karate, but i really didn’t know what was going on. im new to the valley and im trying to make friends, i never thought it’d end up like this” -you

“yeah, sometimes we make friends with the wrong people” -sam

“i grew up with karate, and cobra kai had just won this super popular tournament over here, it seemed like the right choice” -you

“i get it. i know it’s not your fault. and it’s nice to meet you now that we’re not at each other’s throats—this karate rivalry is decades old, too. i can’t even keep up with it” -sam

“you think miguel is gonna pull through?” -you

“i hope so…i dont know how i’ll go on if he doesn’t. so he has to” -sam

“i feel you there…this might be a bad time, but are there any openings at miyagi do?”

taglist: @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @sapphireplums // @ravenhood2792 // @elemental-of-magic // @mauve-galaxy-427 //

[bambi-luvs]

first actual post kinda nervous 😔🤞

anyways this is abt collide by @valeisaslut coz i can’t think abt anything else right now and how i PERSONALLY see reader

i know it’s a big no no to share stuff like this in like a x reader fic coz everyone imagines stuff differently but u can’t hold this in anymore sorry 😔🙏

appearance

idk if im the only one but as soon as a character has no description i immediately imagine them as my race (99% sure its coz i had like no representation growing up) but while saying that i dont think of her as me yes it is a x reader but in my mind i PERSONALLY imagine her to look like laura harrier, taylor russel and olivia dean if they where one crazy talented, gorgeous, lesbian musician who just wants her girl back 💔💔

vibe/ fashion

i feel like she gives olivia dean, sabrina carpenter and olivia rodrigo vibes and i feel like this is her style for touring, awards, casual, ext xx

anyway everything below is how i see her in each era/stage of her career or journey or whatever and drawings for each.

pre fame

i feel like even before being famous she wasn’t really her own authentic self growing up because of where she grew up the people she was surrounded by and her family (maybe self projecting idk 😬) i feel like she wasn’t very reserved and lowkey secretive (hiding stuff from family and friends). these are some photos i think match her atmosphere at that time xx

and a drawing i did of how i think she looked

first album

i feel like she was really trying to be anything but herself and trying to fit into every box and appeal to everyone at this point and that she doesn’t have much of herself to hold onto or doesn’t want to share it with the world in fear of being judged or rejected.

second album/her and ellie’s era 💔🥀

fully think she was in some of the happiest periods of her life at the beginning and then it all went downhill. she was free exposed and in love and it showed….till it didn’t and if you’ve read collide we all know why 🫩

third album

two years is a crazy time skip but anyway the fact that those two years were probably the most quite years of her life and she had to spend the first one depressed 💔 she’s real as fuck tho is ellie was my girlfriend and she broke up with me over something in trying to help with id be unconscionable too but after the help and healing i feel like this is her having the most freedom she’s ever had 🩷

lowkey fucked up the last drawing😢. anyway this is wayyy longer then i thought it would be but i love reader and i hope this is at least a little accurate. she’s so iconic and real and i’ll always feel for her and all that she’s lost as someone with homophobic family (not my parents but all my extended family).

go read collide it’s amazing and @valeisaslut is like the sweetest person ever!!!! (praying she replies to my song recs i need opinions 🙏🙏)

🩷🩷

[traceyc-uk]

Hiii tracey!! You know I absolutely adore your arts!! Seeing your comics made me wanna try drawing one too, but the idea scares me. I feel like i have to know how to do compositions, backgrounds, effects, choose the right panels etc etc (tho ofc i really just have to try it). Do you have any tips or resources on how to make it less intimidating 👉👈

What?! no way because I can have a rant about how much I love yours! You better keep an eye on your ask box because I’ve got questions for you too missy, ok deal? DEAL 🤝

I find backgrounds and panel layouts tough too and effects takes me longest but there’s no right or wrong way to approach it and all I can suggest is go easy on yourself and just go for it! Honestly there’re some pages in my past comics that are painful to see because I’ve forced panels around to fit in exposition or set up for something later but who’ll know apart from myself

Your figure drawing is so gorgeous too! So good at illustrating movement! just being able to tell a story through body language I like to do too and just doing that is a great way to start. Forget about backgrounds and everything else if it’s putting too much pressure and go at your own pace. Like Calvin and Hobbs if you’ve ever read any of that?

I don’t often draw backgrounds either, I’m not sure how much detail you want to go but my last comic I drew an establishing environment to set the scene and that’s it

One saving grace in making HL comics is it’s already set in a well established world and most would instantly recognise places if given the right prompts (four long tables = great hall) I play on PS5 and I’ve got so many screenshots of place references 😅

Some panels are literal trace overs of screenshots and I do anything and everything to make life easier (the Beast class bullies had the most backgrounds as it jumped around scenes so much) i find filtered images too jarring against my drawing too

My comfort approach is rule of thirds for composition and is I think a great way to start establishing frames and once you get more comfortable you can start playing around with it

Effects I’ve copied from comics I liked as I had no idea where to start too, I have no consistency either it changes because I’ve forgotten what I did before 😅

Panel layout I’m still finding my way too, I often don’t plan linearly, I’ll have keyframe panels (in green) and is finding the rhythm getting point A to B is loose and fun to navigate. and there’s so much of my earlier comics I’d like to change with what I learned now but I digress

This is just my approach and I’m definitely no expert but am happy to help anyway I can. I’m always copying or taking reference from films and comics I like too, taking elements that I like so much about it and let it influence and inform my own style.

If anything I’m nervous for the next one I’m working on now, emotional angst is definitely out of my comfort zone 😭 and I’m no writer like you are

[munsonkitten]

read on AO3 | rated T | sick fic

Eddie groans on the other side of the room. He’s curled up on the recliner with a pillow hugged to his chest. Beside him, a half eaten bag of chips and an unopened Mountain Dew can sit on the side table. He groans again and shifts in his seat, drawing his knees up higher to his chest like he’s trying to crawl inside himself. 

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks from the couch. 

A quiet grunt comes from the mess of curly brown hair covering his face. He unravels himself slowly, crawling out of the chair without bothering to put down the foot rest. The pillow gets left where it is, and the chips and his drink lay forgotten where they are. 

“I’ll be back.”

Eddie disappears from the living room, and the bathroom door clicks close. He’s gone for a little while, and Steve’s about to get up to check on him when the bathroom door opens again, and then he hears Eddie step out and the bedroom door clicks shut instead. When Eddie finally comes back, he’s replaced his jeans for sweatpants, and he has one of his blankets wrapped around his shoulders. 

“My stomach hurts,” Eddie says, his voice sounding miserable. 

It’s a common occurrence at this point. Steve’s used to Eddie being so up and down — he has good days and bad days, and he eats too much junk food for his stomach to handle. Most days something hurts, and Steve wishes he could wrap Eddie up and keep him safe and away from the pain forever. 

In the few months they’ve been together, and the year before that they were friends, Steve’s seen more stomach aches, headaches, painful periods, heartburn and other various ailments than he can count. And he knows Eddie can feel completely miserable over the smallest things — he doesn’t handle any of it very well, moaning and groaning and sighing while he looks for tums and ibuprofen and whatever else he needs. 

Steve hums empathetically, sitting up in case Eddie wants the spot where he’s laying. “Can I get you anything?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Is it period cramps?”

Eddie shakes his head again. 

“Good old fashioned tummy ache, then,” Steve says. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. He turns around and goes into the kitchen, and Steve hears glasses clinking in the cupboard, and then the sink running. Eddie comes back with a glass of water, taking small sips as he comes toward Steve.

He places a damp hand on his forehead, and then his cheeks, cooling his pink skin. He might have a fever, too, Steve thinks. Something’s been going around, and it’s knocked out each kid one after the other this week — it was only a matter of time before Eddie or Steve caught it too. 

“C’mere, kitten,” Steve says, opening up his arms.

He lays back down, gesturing for Eddie to come lay with him on the couch. 

Eddie fits himself half on top of Steve, the rest of him slipping between Steve and the back of the couch. The blanket covers them, and Steve can tell Eddie took off his binder when he left the room, too. It’s rare for him to take it off during the day, even if it’s just them at home with no other plans, so he knows Eddie must really not be feeling good. 

“Are you sure you don't want a ginger ale, or something?” Steve asks. He slides his hand up and down Eddie’s back, trying to soothe away the pain. 

“Don’t have any.” 

“I can run to the store.”

“No,” Eddie says. “Only cure is cuddles.”

“Is that so?” Steve snorts. 

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m being attacked by my immune system. I’m sick, Steve. You would make fun of someone for having an illness? Shame on you.”

It’s obvious Eddie’s heart isn’t really in it. The teasing doesn’t feel like it usually does because Eddie just sounds tired. He burrows his warm face into Steve’s neck, and sighs, a quiet groan slipping out along with it. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, baby,” Steve murmurs. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers. “Always so sweet to me.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll go get some stuff for you, okay?” Steve offers again. 

Eddie just hums noncommittally and curls impossibly closer to Steve’s body. He’s snoring softly within the next few minutes, and Steve just turns his attention back to the TV, allowing Eddie to get some rest. 

They lay there together for a long while, and Eddie comes in and out of consciousness ever so often. Sometimes he mumbles out quiet words of ‘don’t feel good,’ or laughs at jokes on the show they’re watching, and falls back asleep again.

There’s a warm swell of love in Steve’s chest. The fact that Eddie’s comfortable with him, even when he’s miserable like this, makes Steve fall in love with him even more.

Each nuzzle of Eddie’s warm face against his neck, and each curl of his fingers in Steve’s shirt, or each slide of his leg over Steve’s hip as he gets more comfortable — it all makes Steve feel like the luckiest guy on earth. 

The afternoon slips away into evening, and Eddie dozes in and out for most of it. By the time Wayne’s about to leave for work, Eddie’s awake again and groaning in discomfort each time he shifts on the couch.

“I take it someone’s not feeling well,” Wayne comments as he leaves his bedroom. “You need anything before I go, bud?” 

“No,” Eddie says, lifting his head just enough to talk to Wayne. He drops it back down with a heavy sigh when the fatigue decides he’s done enough. “Steve’s taking care of me.”

Wayne lingers for just another second, probably waiting to see if Eddie changes his mind, and then he says his goodbyes and tells them he’ll be back in the morning, like always. 

Eddie mumbles out a goodbye and a ‘see you later,’ just as Wayne walks out the front door. 

He uncurls himself from Steve’s body, then, and worms his way into a sitting position. Steve shifts to give Eddie more room, and raises an eyebrow at him. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Eddie’s face, his forehead glistening and his cheeks a rosy pink. He pushes the blanket off of them and sighs, head lolling back against the backrest of the couch. 

“It’s too hot,” Eddie bemoans. 

And it’s not, really. It’s winter, and there’s a chill in the air, even inside. Eddie’s like a furnace, though, and his forehead is warm when Steve lifts his hand to touch it. 

“You might be really coming down with something,” Steve says. 

“You should probably go home,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna get you sick.”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I’ll take care of you.”

Eddie sighs, loud and long. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t feel like I have to,” Steve says, simply. “I like taking care of you. Figured you’d have noticed that by now.”

Eddie drops his head down to Steve’s chest and moans quietly in his throat. His fingers curl around Steve’s shirt and he holds on, curled in on himself. 

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts after a few seconds. “Sorry. Just had, like, a wave of nausea.”

“At the thought of me taking care of you?” Steve jokes.

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, baby. You’ll be more comfortable.” 

“Give me another second. Please.”

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing a hand up and down Eddie’s back. His shirt is damp with sweat, and he’s radiating feverish heat. 

Whatever Eddie has is coming on quick because he was fine this afternoon when Steve first came over. That’s why Steve thought it was just a regular junk food induced stomach ache earlier, and that Eddie would be fine after some tums or a nap, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

He’s been around for headaches and stomach aches and other little ailments, but he’s never seen Eddie sick. Not like this. 

Eventually Eddie uncurls himself from Steve, and unsteadily makes his way to his feet. There’s exhaustion in his movements, and Steve is quick to wrap an arm around his waist to help him. It might not be necessary, but Steve can’t help it — he wants to take care of Eddie in any way he can, and making sure he doesn’t pass out in the fifteen feet from the couch to his bedroom seems like a good place to start. 

He gets Eddie situated in bed, fluffing up his pillows and making sure his blankets are within reach. Eddie takes one and pulls it up to his chin, rolling over to lay on his side. If he didn’t look so miserable, Steve thinks this would be really cute — Eddie being all cozy and cuddly always makes Steve smile and want to take a picture to save forever. 

“I’m going to the store,” Steve says, regretting that he has to leave Eddie alone, but knowing he needs more than they currently have to get through this. “I’ll get you some soup and some ginger ale, okay? Anything else you might need?”

Eddie shrugs. “Just be quick.”

“Of course, baby.”

He bends down and presses a kiss to Eddie’s sweaty forehead, running his fingers through his damp hair, and then he finds his shoes and keys and leaves. 

At the store, he picks out a few cans of soup and some ginger ale. He tries to remember what his mom would do for him when he was sick as a kid, and thinks of long nights with a cold towel pressed to his forehead, and a regularly refilled cup of ice for him to chew on. He doesn’t know how much ice Eddie has in his freezer, so he decides he’ll just buy a bag instead of worrying about finding ice trays or how long they’ll take to freeze.

His basket is full by the time he gets to the check out, and he knows he’s been gone for a lot longer than he meant to be. 

He gets back to Eddie’s, and finds him still curled up in bed where Steve left him. Steve gives him a Gatorade and a cup of ice before leaving to put the rest of the groceries away. 

“Here, try eating something,” Steve says gently, watching as Eddie’s big eyes give him a look that says he wants to do anything else. “Just a few crackers, okay? And I’ll make you some soup in a little bit.”

Steve leaves him to it, a napkin of saltines on his nightstand, and goes to wet a washcloth from the bathroom. He folds it a few times and moves Eddie’s bangs so he can lay it over his forehead. 

“Thanks,” Eddie whispers, bringing a cracker to his mouth to take a few small bites. He finishes it and moves to lay down on his side, now holding the cold washcloth to his forehead. 

“Do you need anything else while I’m up?” Steve asks. 

Eddie takes a few small sips of his Gatorade, and then a few more before answering. “I’m okay.”

With that, Steve climbs into Eddie’s bed, settling between his boyfriend and the wall. He pulls a magazine out of the crevice between the bed and the wall and flicks it open to where he left off the last time he was here. 

“You’re supposed to be cuddling me,” Eddie huffs, looking over his shoulder at Steve with as playful a look he can muster. “It’s the only cure.”

“How could I forget?” 

Steve puts his magazine back, and turns on his side so he can spoon up behind Eddie. His hand settles gently on his stomach, rubbing up and down in a way he hopes is soothing for him. 

It’s pretty likely, Steve thinks, that he’s going to get sick soon, too. This stomach bug has wiped out most of their friends at this point, and being this close to Eddie means it’s definitely going to jump to him next. 

He finds that he doesn’t really care. There’s no place he’d rather be right now, and there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Eddie to ride this out on his own. 

“So sweet to me,” Eddie murmurs sleepily. It isn’t the first time he’s said it today.

Steve presses a kiss to the back of his warm neck. “Get some rest, baby.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Tired.”

Sleep tugs at Steve, and he lets himself succumb to it, Eddie held safe in his arms.

(please leave kudos on AO3 <3)

[tragedybunny]

If you are in the mood for writing and taking requests, could you pls write a short fic about crying f!Tav and Astarion comforting her?

Hello! I hope you like it. This was actually a scene I had been thinking about for awhile as it fits in with my Tav's story. Thank you to @satanicspinosaurus for the beta.

Lean On Me - Astarion x F!Reader

Your group stepped through the Basilisk Gate after your confrontation with Gortash at Wyrm’s Rock, entering Baldur’s Gate properly for the first time. The clamor and crowds of the city were overwhelming, smothering you in an alien way of life you’d only glimpsed in bits and snatches from the Patriar’s ivory walls of the Upper Gate.

were familiar, and yet not, and entirely overwhelming. You almost stumble as you glance around, trying to take everything in. Muscles tense as it all blurs together and you frantically try to figure out how to navigate the section of the city you’ve rarely seen. Someone soundlessly hovers at your shoulder.

“Everything alright, Darling?” Astarion whispers to not draw the attention of the others. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter before stepping away. There isn’t time for you to be anything else, so you breathe deep and take a step. 

“Should we start at the Elfsong? Could be a good base to operate from, and there’s always information to be found there.” Wyll’s point is solid, and the Emperor already urged you to stop there. 

“Good call.” There was just one problem. 

“Lead on, fearless Leader,” Wyll says jovially, but you’ve frozen where you stand. “You do know the way to the Elfsong right?” 

“I…” Frantically, you try to recall anything you know about the Lower City. 

“I thought every Baldurian knew where the Elfsong was,” Karlach asks, without malice, but genuine curiosity. 

You open your lips, but instead of words, a small noise comes out. It’s not their fault, they have no way of knowing, the Lower City was worlds away from your gilded cage. A place forbidden, it was below you. Or so you were told. 

“You're not familiar with the area, are you?” Wyll offers kindly, sensing something is wrong and trying to take some of the sudden pressure off. 

He says something else, but you can’t even hear him. The busy streets fade into visions of dark, cold rooms with windows to a world you can never touch. Tears embarrassingly prick your eyes as you’re drawn back into a place where fear motivates perfection, where hurt is a price paid to be molded into who you need to be. Eyes that mirror your own, blue and icy as a winter storm, stare at you with disdain. The message is clear: you’re not enough. 

Vaguely, more voices flit across your consciousness, but you can’t focus, until one voice in particular breaks though. “Go on ahead, I’ll take care of her.”

Cold hands clasp yours, a momentary calm in the storm. “Can you hear me, Love?” Wordlessly, you nod. “I’m going to lead you into this alley, just so we get out of the street.” The insistent pull is easy to follow with nothing to anchor you. 

The clustered buildings block the daylight, plunging you into shadows and shade, any progress of Astarion’s reassuring voice is lost. Daylight is a reward for obedience, and there is none of it here. Mother’s voice is in your ear, the matriarch of ice. You want to leave, but the door is locked, useful trinkets can’t be left to their own devices, lest they be lost. You feel yourself trembling, and you know you’re still crying. “You’re not there, you’re safe. Just focus on my voice. You can do that for me, right, my Sweet?” 

Eyes squeeze shut, and you yank your hands away from his to rub fitfully at the scar on your wrist. You never could get away from her, you're drowning in frigid water, you can’t breathe. She wouldn’t let you go, even when your heart stopped beating. Foolish to think you’d ever escape. “I’m going to take your hand again. I won’t hurt you.” 

Astarion makes a strangled gasp when he pries your hand from your wrist, but he holds it gently, rubbing softly with his thumb. “Come back to me, Sunlight, I’m right here.” 

Sunlight. “...you’re bright, and warm, and beautiful,” you can still hear those words of his as clear as the night he said them. Warm, bright, nothing like what you’re supposed to be. Because you’re free now, you’re no longer currency to be traded, your life is yours to mold. 

“Astarion,” you force your eyes open and struggle to get more words out between ragged breaths, burying your tears back down inside yourself. Wide crimson eyes stare at you with open concern, traveling down to where your nails have worried jagged, red lines in the skin of your wrist. Pulling it to your chest, you tuck it out of sight, wanting both of you to forget what you saw. “I’m fine. We should get going.” There’s so much that needs to be done. 

Astarion is never good at hiding his emotions from you, and hurt flickers across his face for a moment before he regains control. “But you’re not, and you don’t have to be all the time.” 

Deep breath, reassuring smile, the composure of a leader. Everyone is counting on you. That’s why they love you, you lead where they can’t. “Really, I’m alright, I-”

Gently, he pulls you into himself, and runs fingers comfortingly through your hair. “I know what it’s like, remember?” Gods, you’d almost forgotten who you were trying to convince. Instincts want to fight him still, to go on, to stop making a scene. But his comforting touch persists, and he raises your stinging wrist to his lips, laying the most delicate kiss on it. 

The tears you’d so successfully banished well back up, and you find yourself sniffling into his shirt, building to genuine gulping sobs. 

Composure shattered, there’s no going back. All your weight leans into him as you cry. “Sorry, I’m sorry, really, I’ll be fine.” 

“Shh, no apologies, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Lips kiss the top of your head, and you bury your face against him, still ashamed of breaking down. 

Time slips away from you as you let the fear and hurt drain away in tears. Astarion’s hold never waivers, soothing words falling from his lips in a low whisper until you finally quiet. There’s an emptiness where it all was, but it’s better than the pain. “I-”

“That had better not be another apology on that sweet little tongue of yours.” He lets go just enough to pull back and study you, concern written on his features, despite the lighter tone to his words. 

You offer him a shaky smile. Despite his faults, Astarion tries to be a good partner. “It burns like failure. I should be better.”

“Hmm, that sounds like it comes from your family I'd wager,” your eyes go wide at his deduction, “it wasn't hard to figure out from the little bits I've been able to get from you. But they're not here, and I am. And I say you're so very strong already, you deserve some time when you’re not.” 

Silently, you let your head fall back against his chest. You don’t have an answer for him because you want to argue. That’s a pointless endeavor, though, both because Astarion is nearly impossibly stubborn and a little part of you is starting to think he’s right. “Maybe,” you finally say. 

“You know I’m right Darling, like always,” it’s such a typical Astarion way of ending a heavy moment, you give him a genuine smile. “But I suppose we should catch up with the others, gods know what trouble they’ve gotten into without us.” 

If only you had time for just the two of you right now, it will have to wait though. More than just your friends, a whole city is at the precipice of disaster. And who knows how many more than Baldur’s Gate will suffer if you fail. One more kiss and you stand up straight, finding the will to press on again. 

A hand catches yours, a reminder you’re not doing this alone. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

 @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess

@lumienyx @lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress

@astariongf

[lit3rally-m1ke-whlr]

guys I accidentally deleted the essay I wrote in my drafts bc I’m an idiot (I’m crying) so I’m just gonna summarize in less words bc whatever I’m not typing several more paragraphs on this. Anyway I just had to say that I feel like there’s an ableism problem in the Stranger Things fandom. Either that or this fandom just doesn’t like when characters show obvious neurodivergent traits. We see this with El being either infantilized or deemed annoying by fans when she’s clearly developmentally impaired and autistic because she struggles with understanding social cues and just wants to be normal and fit in like everyone else. She was raised in a lab, obviously she’s going to be immature and not have a strong handle on her emotional responses to things, and you don’t have to like her but it kinda sucks that she’s being hated for these things when I can relate to her so much. We also see this with Mike, and I feel like the people calling him the worst character are forgetting he’s literally just a teenage boy dealing with trauma. Like it’s as if they were never a teenager before because trust me I was just like Mike at that age if not worse. I’ll admit I used to hate him too but maturing is realizing the reasons people dislike Mike can easily be explained by either internalized homophobia or neurodivergence. He’s a bad friend? It’s because he’s trying so hard to appear straight and struggles to balance his relationships in a healthy manner, and he often speaks before thinking about how what he’s saying comes across to others, which is something many autistics/ people with ADHD do, not because we mean to hurt others but we can often be blunt or brutally honest and come across as rude (or even just lash out when we feel attacked or hurt as a way to defend ourselves but it often comes out harsher than we want it to) in my experience. He’s a bad boyfriend? He’s actually not and even then it’s because he’s gay and not in love with El but just doesn’t want to lose her. Besides he doesn’t have a great model for what a loving relationship looks like because of his parents so he may not be able to differentiate between romantic and platonic love and stays in a relationship that he’s clearly not happy in because of societal pressure to appear straight and it would be suspicious (in his mind) if they broke up because a) El literally is the coolest girl on the planet, how could he not love her and b) he loses his cover and people might start to notice and question his lack of attraction to girls. But not only that, he clearly struggles with describing and expressing his emotions or recognizing those of others (aka alexythemia) which is common in autistic people. So if he didn’t notice El’s obvious discomfort at the skating rink that’s probably why, and it’s also why he couldn’t tell her he loved her (bc it was a lie but I digress).

But perhaps the best example and the reason I decided to make this rant post is Robin’s character in s4. I remember seeing so many people saying that once the writers decided to make her lesbian they realized they didn’t know what to do with her character, some even going as far as to say they made her ditzy and stripped her of her coolness, which basically proves my point about y’all (as in the fandom in general) not liking ND people because god forbid we unmask around you, it’s no wonder so many of us feel afraid to be our true selves in front of other people. It’s almost as if she was hiding behind a persona to seem more normal and not draw unwanted attention to herself because she’s a lesbian, and once she came out to Steve and was accepted she… didn’t have to do that anymore? She felt more comfortable and safe around him to show her true personality? I don’t know but there’s something off about the way people are acting like she’s suddenly dumb or just there for comedic effect in s4 when she’s literally been so useful like she’s the one who realized music could save victims from being possessed by vecna. She’s literally the same except now she’s out to someone and she gets nervous when it comes to girls she likes, big fucking deal. Not only is this mischaracterization ludicrous and flat out wrong but it’s quite upsetting to see as someone who can relate to Robin in season 4 and is also autistic. Yes, not everyone with autism is like that but some are and to say she’s no longer cool because of it just enforces the perception of autistics as weird and unlikeable just for simply being themselves and makes us feel like we can only be liked or taken seriously if we keep the mask on.

look at me I said I would keep it brief this time but I still ended up writing an entire wall of text on this anyway lol thanks for coming to my Ted talk ig

[ratkingvixx]

Trying out the silhouette with “The Prophet”. She progressively deteriorates, her body thins and grows sharper - not only is Morphues feeding off her (mentally and physically exhausting), He’s wearing the body down. Everything that makes her her. He makes the prophet rely on Him to survive. Without Him, all the pain she’s received thus far would be too much for it to not be detrimental. In some ways, He keeps the vessel going, but it is not without consequences.

Eventually, the limbs begin to stretch and pull. She looks less like a child-teen and more of an inhumane thing - His influence becomes much more intense to the point it physically alters the body. Or, how much He twists her perception of it.

���

These here are old-ish drawings. A few minor tweaks here and there on the left one compared to the first (newer) drawing. Nothing really noticeable. Her outfit was originally inspired by a priest attire. Though now that’s loosely based. I have changed it many times because I was never satisfied with it. When I first made her, she had no name or really anything going on for her. She was a carb and copy of like the og’s, but look how far she’s come.

Religious influence is there (obviously), but my thought process wasn't to make another “corrupt”, evil - whatever else to toss it in there just… because. No, the idea of [Christianity] in there is because it’s something I genuinely struggle with. So, the prophet will as well. Albeit, much worse at times.

The idea that (her outfit) is so skin tight that it literally like looks and feels like a second skin, really fit (pun not intended). Because of insecurities and quote-unquote imperfections (perceived flaws), Morphues would not let her hide from them. It’s like a constant vulnerable state. You can see it so viscerally clear. The Prophet doesn’t feel right in her own skin (literally) she feels entirely unlike it - against it. Unlike herself.

I never know how to end my post. So I’ll leave it at that

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Artist and The Art

Pairing: Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Summary: While you hide your feelings for Dalton, his life changes and suddenly you don't know where you fit.

Warnings: angst to fluff with some hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: This is inspired by a Hallmark movie (Chance at Romance / Friend Request), so just prepare for that.

Dalton Lambert Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Whoever made the map handout for JPU has apparently never walked the campus. With no legend or compass to orient yourself, it’s easy to get lost in the labyrinth of identical buildings. There’s a small mark on the building you’re supposed to go to, which would only be helpful if you knew where you were standing now.

Sighing, you look up from the map and search for a friendly face. Dozens of people are walking around, but most have their heads down or are talking to the people beside them. Finally, you see a boy walking by himself. He glances up and sends you a closed-lip smile.

“Hi, sorry,” you say, stepping toward him. “Can you help me? I’m trying to find my class and I have absolutely no idea where I am going.”

He chuckles, pointing at the map in your hand. “That certainly isn’t helping.”

“No, it is not.”

He holds his hand out for it and squints at it before handing it to someone else as they pass. They take it without a word, and you laugh. The boy smiles and moves beside you, facing the same way as you.

“Okay, so you’re going to walk down this sidewalk until you get to the arch. Turn left before the arch and you’re there,” he explains.

“Thank you so much.”

 “No problem. I’m Dalton, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around. Good luck.”

“Nice to meet you.”

After introducing yourself, you turn away and walk toward the arch (which wasn’t on the map, you think). Dalton watches you walk away and brushes his hair back, smiling as he hopes to see you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting on a stoop outside the library, you keep your head down until someone calls your name. Looking up, you smile when you see Dalton walking toward you.

“Hey,” you reply, standing up. “Good to see you again.”

“Again?” the girl beside him asks, smiling at him. “Well done, Dolphin.”

Dalton rolls his eyes, whispering for her to stop before apologizing to you. “This is Chris.”

“We’re going out for coffee. Want to come with?” Chris invites you.

You look at Dalton, and when he smiles, you agree. Gathering your things, you fall into step beside Dalton.

“What’s your major?” he asks.

You tell him, then ask, “Art?”

Dalton looks over at you with wide eyes, his jaw dropped slightly.

“You were outside the art building when we met,” you explain. “And you have charcoal all over the side of your hand.”

Glancing down, Dalton nods when he sees his hand.

“Dalton needs a model,” Chris interjects. “Care to volunteer your time and face for his artistic pursuits?”

“Chris,” Dalton chides.

“What’s the model for?” you ask, ignoring Dalton’s awkward reaction.

“We’re supposed to find something to draw that is different than us.”

“And that’s me? You don’t even know me,” you point out, smiling as you open the café door.

“If I say I’d like to?” Dalton mumbles, looking down before glancing back up when he sees your smile.

“I would tell you that I’d like to get to know you too. Although I’m not sure I’m model material.”

“Oh, you are,” Dalton promises, his cheeks growing warm when your smile widens.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Can you turn your head to your right? Sorry, my right,” Dalton requests, looking at your face with his head tilted to the side.

“So, how many other models did you ask before you got to my name?” you tease.

“Funny. All of them, actually,” Dalton replies, playing along.

You smile, falling silent as you try to stay at the angle Dalton needs.

“Tell me something,” he requests.

“Tell you what?”

“Anything, just talk.”

You nod, thinking of something you haven’t shared with many people. “There’s a lake in a forest about 40 miles north of here. When I was a kid, I went with one of my friends and fell in love with the area. As soon as we got back, I asked my parents to take me, but they were always too busy or couldn’t afford the trip, something. I got older, and that friend moved away, but the memory of that lake, the peace that I felt while I was there, never left me. The day that I got my driver’s license I drove up there and it was- it was as perfect as I remembered.”

“Have you been recently?” Dalton asks, lifting his pencil from the paper.

“No, but I’d love to go again soon,” you answer. “Maybe you could come, too, if you want.”

Dalton smiles as he sets his sketchpad aside. “I’d love to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve known Dalton for a week, and you’re falling for him. Hitting it off with him was easy - effortless, even - but you didn’t expect things to escalate so quickly.

Despite the growing affection for him, you think you’re destined to be friends, so you hide your feelings. You support him and your art as an outlet for your emotions, using the veil of friendship to keep your heart intact.

Unknown to you, Dalton is falling for you, too. Each kind comment you give him, your pretty smile, and your soft touch make him fall deeper. He has a sketchbook full of pictures of you and things that remind him of you, hidden behind his bed where you can never stumble upon it accidentally.

While you pretend to be content staying friends, both of your lives change in a moment, and you’re no longer sure if you can have any future with Dalton Lambert.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Dalton, a moment,” Professor Armagan asks as she dismisses the class. “I have some news to share with you.”

Dalton nods, wondering what news she could be referring to.

“I showed your recent piece, the difference project, to one of my colleagues. He loves it, and wants to write an article about you and your work.”

“Why?” Dalton asks, unable to comprehend what he is hearing.

“It is very good, Dalton,” she answers. “Perhaps the best you’ve done; whatever the inspiration was, it would be wise to keep it around if possible. Art journals are a great way to grow as an artist, to jumpstart your career.”

“I mean- it’s an honor. Thank you,” Dalton responds.

“So, you will do it?”

“Would you?”

“Absolutely. But you are not me and this is your decision, Dalton.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Great, Mr. Lambert. I will give him your contact information. There is likely an art show in your future, so continue the good work.”

Dalton rushes out of the art building and to your dorm. Knocking until you open the door, he walks into your room before you have time to say anything.

“Professor Armagan showed one of my pieces to one of her artist friends and now he wants to interview me for an article in some renowned art journal,” he explains quickly.

“Dalton, that’s amazing! Congratulations!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug.

He sighs, relaxing in your hold as your presence calms him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You pull back too soon, trying to maintain your cover of ‘just friends.’ “I knew you were a great artist, Dalton.”

“Thanks for believing in me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a week, you feel like you’ve been pushed to the sidelines of Dalton’s life, watching something you are no longer part of. After the first interview, he scheduled another one with a magazine and started planning his debut art show. The art world knows his name now, and though you’re happy for him, you’re also heartbroken at the idea of losing him.

“Hey,” Chris says, falling into the seat beside you.

“Hi,” you answer, looking away from Dalton, where he is talking to a group of art students.

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“Um, last Friday I think? Right before the second interview.” You sigh, leaning back.

“He’s not forgetting about you,” Chris says kindly. “He’s adjusting to a new life, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you in it.”

You look over at her, and she adds, “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. Neither of you are.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you whisper. “Because I feel like I’m an observer, not a participant.”

“He invited you to the art show, right?”

“Yeah. Gave me a VIP ticket and asked me to come by early.”

“Well, that sounds like a chance to me. Dalton is, well, he’s Dalton, and you already know that he’s not the extrovert he’s being right now. This is an act for him, just like being his friend was an act for you. And neither of you can keep those facades up for long.”

“You’re saying that he’ll go back to normal someday and I’ll expose myself as being in love with him, too.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Chris answers as she stands. “Just don’t wait too long. I’d rather not find out if artists have groupies or anything.”

You laugh, and Dalton looks up. He may be distant, but he never took his eyes or his mind off you. Able to find you in any crowd, Dalton smiles, and you think things may be looking up.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you prepare for Dalton’s first art show, you attempt to convince yourself that Chris is right. Hoping that the perfect moment presents itself, you plan to tell Dalton the truth: that you’re falling for him and want to be with him.

Adjusting your outfit, you take a deep breath before you walk into the art gallery. The show doesn’t begin for a few more minutes, but artists and professors are present when you enter.

You expected to be impressed by the pieces Dalton chose to display, but your breath catches when you see that many pictures are of you. Forgetting about your plan to find Dalton, you’re enraptured by his art and begin walking around the gallery and looking at each piece. Some of them you modeled for, others are from memory, or he drew them while you weren’t looking. Smiling at the first picture he drew of you, you remember that Dalton is around here somewhere and set out to find him. This many pictures has to be a good sign, you think, a chance that he feels similarly.

Turning a corner, you finally find Dalton and your smile falls. He’s talking to another girl, tracing a gentle finger over her face as he explains how to draw the angles of bone structures. He’s treating her like she is the art on display, and you feel tears gathering in your eyes before you turn and exit the gallery. As the tears fall, you get in your car and leave; leave the show, pass JPU, and then leave town. There is only one place where you can go to feel better, to feel whole again, and you hope it’s enough.

✯✯✯✯✯

Dalton looks up suddenly, dropping his hand to his side.

“Are you okay?” the woman beside him asks.

“Was there a girl standing there a minute ago?” Dalton asks, pointing to his right. “Really pretty? Maybe looking at me?”

“Uh, yeah,” she answers, nodding. “She looked kind of upset, though.”

Dalton clenches his jaw, looking around for Chris or Professor Armagan. He finds Chris first, rushing to her side as he says your name.

“What about her?” Chris asks.

“Where is she?”

“Here, I thought.”

“No, she-“ Dalton tugs his hair in frustration. “She saw me talking to a prospective manager, and I’m so stupid… She left and I don’t know where she went.”

“I’m not disagreeing, but how are you stupid?”

“I was touching her face to explain the angles when drawing.”

“Dalton! You knew she was coming early to see you, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! But I have to do something, Chris.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t,” Professor Armagan says, walking to Dalton’s side. “Unless it’s some kind of emergency.”

“It is,” Dalton promises. “The girl that I- the girl in all the pictures was here and then she left. I need to find her and explain something to her.”

“Go,” Professor Armagan says, passing Dalton her keys. “I will cover for you. You are lucky that artists are dramatic, they will love this.”

“Dalton, where are you going to go? She won’t go back to her dorm,” Chris points out, following him to the front door.

Someone calls his name, and he turns to Chris, ignoring his new fans and art collectors. “I know where she’s going.”

Chris nods. “Be careful. And find her.”

Dalton finds Professor Armagan’s keys and starts the car, glad to see her gas tank is full. 40 miles separate you and him, and he plans to close that distance forever.

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t care about your nice, new outfit anymore as you sit on the sand. The waves lap up onto the shore as you stare out over the water; it reflects the trees and the moon in the sky above. It’s still peaceful, but as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand, you can only think about how Dalton said he’d like to come with you someday.

After a few minutes, you give up on holding your tears in and let yourself feel everything you’ve been keeping buried. You go through the emotions of falling for Dalton and losing him at the same time, your sobs mixing with the sound of the water and the wind blowing through the trees.

“It was just supposed to be a picture,” you whisper to yourself.

“But it wasn’t.”

Turning quickly, you don’t expect to see Dalton standing behind you. Your face is still wet with tears, and seeing him doesn’t help them slow.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, looking away from him.

“You were gone.”

Dalton sits beside you, his hand extended between you as he traces something in the sand.

“How’d you even know I was there?” you mumble.

“I can find you anywhere. It’s easier when you’re always on my mind.”

“That’s not a reason to leave.”

“Yeah, it is, a good one. I need my model, my good luck charm, my best friend.” You nod slowly, before he adds, “The girl I’m falling in love with.”

You laugh sadly as another round of tears breaks free. “Don’t do this,” you beg.

“What am I doing?”

“Trying to make me feel better. I know we’re just friends, Dalton. You don’t have to lie to make me stop crying or go back with you.”

“I’m not lying, and I don’t want to just be friends. Do you seriously think I would have sketchbooks full of pictures with you if I didn’t have feelings for you? Every piece in that art show is inspired by you.”

“But-“

“I know how it looked, me talking to her and touching her. I didn’t think about it before I did it, and I’m sorry.”

“Who is she?”

“Someone who wants to be my manager.”

Your hand moves closer to Dalton’s, and he smiles.

“I said no,” he adds.

“You really followed me because you noticed I left?”

“I didn’t follow you. Just knew where you’d go. But I would follow you anywhere.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Dalton. There’s so much going on and I don’t want to get in the way of what you love.”

“You are what I love,” Dalton argues. “And I promise to keep you by my side and in my sketchbook no matter what happens. If you’ll let me.”

You look over at Dalton; he looks like he did when you first met, shy but glad to be talking to you. Though Dalton got famous practically overnight, how he looks at you and treats you has never changed, and you believe everything he has said.

“I want you to,” you whisper, pushing your hand into his as you move toward him. “And I promise to stay there; by your side more than in your sketchbooks, preferably.”

“Pretty models have to be drawn.”

“Fine,” you concede, laughing as you lean toward him. “I promise to stay by your side and in your sketchbook no matter what happens.”

Closing the distance, you kiss Dalton for the first time. His hands move to your waist as you lay yours against his chest, neither of you concerned with the sand covering your clothes. When you pull back and smile at Dalton, you kiss his cheek when you see the moon reflected in his eyes before you stand up and wait for him to join you.

“Next time we come here, can it be for a better reason?” you request.

Dalton laughs, then suddenly looks down at the sand on his suit.

“Is that a rental?” you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“No, it’s mine. The, uh- I brought Professor Armagan’s scarily clean car, though.”

“Well,” you say, smiling as you pat his chest. “Looks like you’re staying here or selling a picture to pay to get it detailed.”

“You would leave me here?”

“Not for long.”

Dalton wraps his arms around your waist, turning you to face the water with him as you lean against his chest.

“When we come back, can I draw you here? You were right, it is peaceful, and I like that you’re happy here,” Dalton says quietly.

“Sure. But, just so you know, I’m happy when I’m with you. Whether we’re here or with Chris or just sitting in your dorm, I like being with you.”

“Prove it,” Dalton begins, “come to my next art show and stay with me.”

“Buy me dinner after and I’m in.”

“Anything for the art.”

“If I’m the art, and you’re the artist… you get way more credit than me.”

“But you’re way prettier.”

You laugh, and Dalton turns you in his arms to kiss you again, and you find that being the art to his artist is a much better deal than pretending to be his friend.

[rnsk-kousatsu]

Aoi and Shuuji :  Gendered Subtexts in Their Partners' Evolution Forms and How They Parallel Each Other

Believe it or not, this started out as me about to go on a long rant about the discourse on that Wukong game, since I feel like both sides are presenting their arguments in disingenuous manner regarding queer and feminist readings of Journey to the West (which involve discussions of Wukong and Guanyin as representations of feminist ideals and queer identities). However, I decided I wasn’t that invested in the discourse to write long paragraphs about it, so instead I chose to channel my energy to discuss something else you might not expect to have anything to do with this… which is Digimon Survive (lol). This writeup is going to discuss about Shuuji and Lopmon again, anyway (lol) — and yes, it’s going to be discussing about gender as well, and I’ll be doing it by drawing parallels with another pair, Aoi and Labramon.

A disclaimer before we start: as I’ll be discussing about the various interpretations of Guanyin (that, I feel, some might find sensitive — as they relate to Guanyin’s gender identity), I’d like to make it clear that I’m not a Buddhist nor was I raised a Buddhist by my family. However, I grew up in a culturally Chinese family, and have close relatives who are Buddhists that I’ve consulted on the depictions of Guanyin for the purpose of this writeup. I’ve also done extensive research about the figure online using various resources in English, Chinese, and Japanese. Take this information as you may (this also applies to other deities/figures I talk about in this writeup too, anyway). Heed this disclaimer here as well.

Another note: This writeup wasn’t as well-planned as my previous ones, so I apologize if it seems like I’m jumping from one point to another. It’s mostly me thinking out loud about more parallels I’ve discovered and the ideas I have about them. Just a heads up.

Some people have pointed out the parallels between Aoi and Shuuji, particularly in how their character arcs explore gendered themes. Both characters initially put on a facade that aligns with societal expectations of their gender roles, and each is paired with a Digimon/Kemonogami partner that jarringly contrasts with their outward persona — which makes sense, since the partnermons reflect the true self they both try to suppress. This post, in particular, also elaborates a bit further on the parallels by discussing about how their character arcs move in opposite directions. To reiterate: Aoi begins as the nurturing and permissive mother figure of the group, almost stereotypically feminine, but as the story progresses, she steps into a leadership role and embraces a more assertive personality, which isn’t necessarily associated with traditional femininity. Conversely, Shuuji starts off trying to fit into the rigid mold of an authoritative leader, believing this is what’s expected of him as the oldest boy in the group. However, he eventually must embrace his gentle and caring side to enable himself to reach his full potential, which challenges the initial idea presented that masculinity must always equate to emotional stoicism. Basically, by the story’s end (at least in the Truthful route), both characters take on roles more commonly associated with the opposite gender.

You might think the gendered themes of their character arcs end just there, but if you look into the evolutions of Labramon and Lopmon, you’ll uncover even more layers of gendered subtext — undertones that, while likely unintended, are intriguing to explore. It’s something that seems to have gone largely unnoticed, so that’s exactly what I’ll write about now. Hopefully this can offer another interesting perspective to their character arcs.

Let’s start with Labramon, as the subtexts in her evolutions feel less subtle to me. From the game mechanics alone, initially, Labramon functions primarily as a support unit, equipped with a healing skill that aligns with stereotypical feminine roles of care and nurturing. However, as she evolves, I’d say this role shifts rather significantly. In her evolution forms (Dobermon, Cerberumon, Anubimon, and even Plutomon), Labramon transitions into a powerful offensive unit, taking on a more aggressive and assertive role that contrasts with her earlier, more traditionally feminine characterization.

What’s also particularly striking is the design and appearance of these evolutions. Dobermon, Cerberumon, and Plutomon all adopt distinctly masculine aesthetics, characterized by strong, fierce, and intimidating designs that align with traditional male archetypes. They also shed the cutesy appearance that Labramon initially has, replacing it with a color palette dominated by black and deep shadowy tones on top of very sharp silhouettes, which starkly contrast with Labramon’s original softer look. It almost feels as though her evolutions discard femininity to embrace more conventionally masculine traits like strength, aggression, and dominance. The game even alludes to this by showing how taken aback Aoi is when she first sees Cerberumon’s intimidating appearance.

Not only that, both Labramon’s two ultimate forms, Anubimon and Plutomon, are based on male deities. Anubis, the god of afterlife in ancient Egyptian religion, is strictly male in his depiction as a man with a jackal head. Even the etymology of his name reinforces this — the name “Anubis” comes from the ancient Egyptian word “Inpw”, which is masculine in grammatical gender. In ancient Egyptian language, words had gender, and the suffix “-w” typically indicated a masculine form (hypothetically speaking, the female form of “Inpw” would have been “Inpwt”). Additionally, Anubis has always been depicted with male attributes and roles in Egyptian mythology, such as being a protector of tombs, which was customarily a male-associated role in ancient Egypt.

Pluto is also consistently depicted as male in the original Greek mythology. The name “Pluto” (Plūtō) itself is the Latinized version of the Greek “Plouton”, which is a euphemism for the underworld god Hades, who is also strictly male. What’s even more interesting to note is that Pluto is the Roman counterpart of Dis Pater (Rex Infernus), whose name is commonly interpreted as “Rich Father” and may be a direct translation of Plouton. Note how the meaning of the name emphasizes the male aspect of the deity, as the title “father” is already inherently masculine.

Despite all of that, though, one thing I want to also note here is that Labramon and her evolutions consistently maintain a feminine speech pattern that’s largely shared by Aoi. An explanation for context: in Japanese, you generally can tell the gender identity of the speaker from their speech pattern (i.e., the way a male individual speaks and a female individual speaks are pretty distinct). I find this especially interesting, because it shows that you’re meant to take Labramon and her evolutions as female despite the traditionally “male” depictions.

(Sure, you might argue that this is just another instance of Digimon taking liberties with gender depiction, as they did with Garudamon in Adventure. However, I still find it intriguing to note that among the female cast, Aoi is the only character whose partner’s evolutions are consistently gendered as “male” within the Digimon franchise.)

Let’s move on to Lopmon and his evolutions. While Lopmon doesn’t undergo the same dramatic shifts in appearance the way Labramon does, he does give off a somewhat feminine vibe with how cute and very “pink” (for the lack of a better word) he looks. This has led to some mistaking Lopmon as female, even though his speech pattern closely resembles Shuuji’s distinctly male speech pattern (this is a similar case to Aoi and Labramon anyway, where they share similar speech patterns with each other). Aside from that, there is also still a gendered theming present in his evolutions. In particular, two of his evolutions, Turuiemon and Andiramon, feature genderqueer elements in their origins.

As I mentioned in my previous writeup, Turuiemon is based on Tu’er Ye (Tù’eryé/兔兒爺), the rabbit deity entrusted with saving the people from a plague. According to the legend, Tu’er Ye needed to borrow clothes to wear in order to gain the trust of the people. What I didn’t mention, however, is that Tu’er Ye also had a female counterpart called Tu’er Nainai (Tù’ernǎinai/兔兒奶奶). While these two figures might seem distinct, they could actually be one and the same deity. In some versions of the legend, Tu’er Ye changed appearance depending on the clothing donated to him by the people he helped, implying that Tu’er Nainai could simply be a cross-dressing Tu’er Ye. In short, Tu’er Ye can be interpreted as genderqueer due to the fluidity of his gender presentation in these legends.

The genderqueer theme becomes even more prominent in Antila, the figure upon which Andiramon is based. Antila (Āndǐluò/安底羅) is one of the Twelve Heavenly Generals serving Bhaisajyaguru (the Medicine Buddha). Although Antila is strictly depicted as male and isn’t necessarily genderqueer in the original legend, he takes on a genderqueer interpretation through his depiction in Japanese religious syncretism of Buddhism and Shinto (shinbutsu/kamihotoke/神仏): Through a concept known as honji-suijaku (本地垂迹), where Buddhas and bodhisattvas serve as the true forms (honji/本地) that have worldly manifestations (suijaku/垂迹) as Shinto kami (神), it is said that Antila was the worldly manifestation of the bodhisattva Guanyin (i.e., Guanyin is the honji of Antila, and Antila is the suijaku of Guanyin). Guanyin as a figure is primarily depicted as female-presenting. However, I should note that the nuances of Guanyin’s gender are complex, so I’ll address them in the next paragraph.

For starters: Guanyin (Guānyīn/Kannon/觀音) is the bodhisattva of compassion. As a bodhisattva, she’s a Buddhist figure, but in East Asian and Southeast Asian folk religions, she’s also sometimes known as the Goddess of Mercy. While some Buddhist schools in East and Southeast Asia recognize Guanyin as a genderless or androgynous entity, she’s consistently depicted to be female-presenting, so as a result, East and Southeast Asians commonly refer to her as “Mother Guanyin” or “Goddess Guanyin”. However, this hasn’t always been the case throughout history, as there was a time long ago when Guanyin was depicted as a male. You see, Guanyin is essentially the same figure as Avalokitasvara (also written as Avalokiteśvara), originally depicted as male in India. He was initially depicted as male in China as well, where East Asian Buddhism first originates. However, seeing that the traits the bodhisattva had (e.g., compassionate, merciful, and nurturing) were seen as conventionally feminine by Chinese people, eventually the depiction of Guanyin as female took over. This change was so profound that by the time Buddhism spread further into East and Southeast Asia, the female depiction of Guanyin became the dominant one, and this solidifies her status as a “female” divinity instead of a “male” one. So, it’s safe to say that in the case of Guanyin as the true form of Antila, the intention is for her to be female, despite Antila being a male himself.

(Kind of a tangent: I don’t necessarily disagree with trans readings of Guanyin, whether in relation to her being Antila’s true form or the historical nuances of her gender depictions. I believe it’s a completely valid interpretation, to say the least. However, I must note that this perspective isn’t universally accepted — at least not among the Buddhists I know personally — so it’s important to approach this argument carefully. But anyway, I digress.)

I don’t have much to say about Cherubimon, as he is based on cherubim, who aren’t strictly defined as male or female, as far as I know. However, I personally find that Cherubimon’s appearance carries a distinctly feminine vibe, primarily through the character design and symbolic elements. I mean, Cherubimon features a softer, more rounded form, with large, expressive eyes that convey a sense of gentleness and add some cute factors. The pastel color palette, often dominated by shades of pink, further enhances this somewhat feminine quality. Additionally, his demeanor and role as a guardian figure align with traits typically associated with femininity, such as nurturing and protective instincts. I think it’s fair to say that the combination of these visual and thematic elements gives Cherubimon a feminine presence that contrasts with the more aggressive or imposing designs of most other ultimate level Digimon (including Labramon’s ultimate forms).

Interestingly, unlike Labramon’s evolutions, Lopmon’s evolutions don’t always retain Lopmon’s masculine speech pattern. Specifically, Andiramon and Cherubimon adopt more neutral speech patterns that aren’t distinctly masculine or feminine. I believe this is intended to represent both Andiramon and Cherubimon as more mature forms of Lopmon, with speech patterns that convey a sense of regality and dignity. Given the lore in Survive, where Digimon/Kemonogami are seen as the true selves of their human partners, it’s reasonable to still interpret both Andiramon and Cherubimon as male within the context of the game.

In addition to the individual subtexts, it’s also noteworthy to see how Labramon’s and Lopmon’s evolution lines as a whole reflect contrasting archetypes that align with traditional gender roles. As Labramon evolves into forms like Anubimon and Plutomon, she embodies a theme of judgment and authority, taking on the traditionally masculine role of one who wields power, dispenses justice, and determines the fates of others. On the other hand, Lopmon’s true evolution line (Turuiemon, Andiramon, and Cherubimon) centers around the theme of a guardian deity, which carries more feminine connotations such as care, compassion, and protection. I just think the whole contrast is worth pointing out, considering it aligns very well with the overall gendered undertones present in Aoi and Shuuji’s respective character arcs.

To end this writeup, I just want to reiterate once again: While these gendered subtexts might not be immediately apparent or universally acknowledged, I still think they provide additional depth to the narrative. They also offer a fascinating lens through which you can further explore both Aoi and Shuuji, beyond the much more obvious aspects of their arcs.

P.S. Another parallel I noticed in their evolution lines that I don’t know how to make sense of, but still find interesting (even if it might be coincidental): Labramon’s underworld theme versus Lopmon’s celestial theme. I find these contrasting themes intriguing as well, but I’m not sure how they fit into Aoi’s and Shuuji’s arcs. Any thoughts on this? Also feel free to add if you notice any else from Labramon and Lopmon!

[stygiansauce]

Is there any small spoilers you could give us?

Just a little snack for the poor and starving 🙏

OF COURSE!!! I'll always feed my anons.

I actually needed the motivation to edit this scene because it's been a pain in the behind getting the dialog to feel right. But what is motivation if not the people I write this story for <3

I did drop it in an earlier post, but incase no one noticed, the title for chapter four is Fire Line I'll share a little about that under the cut too. Enjoy

__________________ Fire Line Noun A cleared strip of land, often dug down to bare mineral soil, that acts as a barrier to stop or slow the spread of a fire.

Fire line is also the title of my favorite Rancher flavored song.

Here are your spoils, xoxo Sauce

____________________

“EQUINE. I know horses. Ask a horse question and I know it better than anyone else.” 

Tango sees this opportunity for what it is, he takes a sip of his beer and leans forward over his knees. He looms over where Jimmy sits on the floor in front of him. A win win tied in a bow, he can make fun of Bdubs and press the back of his fingers between Jimmy’s shoulder blades. 

“Bold statement, but I’ll bite. How many bones do horses have?” He asks, knowing full well what this will turn into. It’s fun though, to poke at the bear and see what kind of fight he can start.

Something sharp lights in Bdubs usually soft eyes, “Two hundred and five.” 

“Ever cleaned up horse vomit?”

“Horses can't vomit, Tango.” 

“How d’you break a colt?” 

“Trust and time.” 

“What’s the best brand of-”

Bdubs blows a raspberry, “Face it Tango, me me more cowboy than you.” 

Jimmy snorts into his drink, inhaling the liquid.  He coughs trying to dislodge it from his lungs and Tango rubs at his back, a stiff, hidden movement that hopefully brings some relief. 

He draws his face tight. “What the hell does that even mean?” He spreads his legs an inch further so Jimmy fits, shoulders snug between knees. He leans back into the cushions instead of Tango’s shins. 

“It means you can quiz me all you want. I'll be just as good of a cowboy as you are.” 

Oh that's rich, coming from a midwestern city boy. 

It’s Tango’s turn to laugh then, “you can’t even pronounce sarsaparilla.” the word rolls off his tongue with ease, sas-per-illa. The way it's meant to be said, despite its spelling. 

“Because you say it wrong. It’s sar-sa-per-ill-ah.” 

“That’s not how we say it.” Tango lets the bottle in his fingers slide down an inch. The glass lip is wrapped snugly between his middle finger and thumb, leaving his index free so he can point at Bdubs.

“According to google-” 

They’ve had this argument before, and every time it sparks offence in Tango’s stomach. He’s not sure why, maybe it's some backwards Texas patriotism. All he knows is that the internet thinks it knows how folks are in the south, and every time it’s wrong.

“Can google tell ya how many snakes are in the borrow near the stable? Can google wrangle a heard of bison after a monsoon fucks the canyon back to her creation? Does google ride the damn horse, Bdubs? That shits a machine that don’t know the difference between a sarsaparilla root and the dirt itself.” 

Etho reaches across the couch and settles a hand on his arm, “Calm down,” he wheezes.

Somewhere in the background Scar and Joel are laughing. Tango ignores them, he leans over Jimmy and sets his beer on the coffee table with a loud thunk. 

He crosses his arms and zeros in on his target. 

Bdubs narrows his eyes, then a slow evil smile draws across his face. “Hey Tango.” 

He chews his tongue and raises an eyebrow. 

“Say oil.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and clenches his jaw. That’s funny as hell. He fights a laugh and says instead, “I might kill you.” 

Bdubs cackles. He tosses his head back into his chair.

“What’s that thing you say Bdubs? When you’re trying to pass someone in a tight space?” say it, he thinks cruelly, let me sneak right past ya.

Bdubs scrunches his nose, laugher gone as fast as it came, “Pardon me” he grits. 

Tango grins, “He’s gon’ try an forget the word finagle next.” 

“Finagle is a good word!”

“An’ so is highfalutin but y’all don't see me yellin’ it ‘cross the pasture.” 

Jimmy tips his head back, straining to get Tango in his vision, “Yell it from the rooftops?” he asks, a subtle correction of the idiom. 

Tango scoffs, “No.”

“See?” Bdubs cuts in, “You talk funny!” 

“I do not. Y’all jus’ sound midwestern as all get out.”

Bdubs reaches towards him and strangles the air, fingers rigid, face red, “Say it, Tango. Say vegetable oil.”

“No.” The ease of a summer breeze in his voice.

“Coward!” 

He’s laughing. They all are. Trivia mostly forgotten in favor of shouting over each other.

Tango glances down at Jimmy. He’s still craning his neck back, his smile looks funny tilted upside down. Tango cradles the back of his head in his palm, takes the weight off his neck and leans forward so they can hear each other. 

“Your accent gets worse when you’re mad.” He says with a giddy laugh.

“An’ I bet you like that.” Normalcy. Where many things are different tonight, a teasing comment will always bring them back home to steady footing.

Jimmy fights his smile and nods. Tango rolls his eyes and lifts his hand, sending his head back upright. 

He pretends there isn’t a roll in his gut. Ignores how good it looks to have Jimmy sitting in front of him, between his legs. Shakes the thought that Jimmy likes his accent, likes that dirty part of him that he doesn’t know how to hide. Instead, he focuses on the sea of conversations around the, and drapes his forearms over Jimmy’s shoulders. ______ Your Honor please don't send me to skyblock, I promise there more where this came from.

[godesssiri]

Thrifted Art

Anyone can have and art collection. We often think of original art pieces as a rich person thing – way too bougie for up plebeians. But a collection of original art is accessible to anyone who is willing to sift through thrift stores or browse Marketplace. I’m at the point where if I want to hang a new piece of art, I have to get rid of something else because I’ve just got so much amazing art second hand art. I re-sell art, antiques, and vintage for a living now and I started out selling pieces just so I could live with a piece for a while before finding the person who would love it forever. A few of my best tips:

Look around your home for places you might want to put a piece of art, maybe snap a picture of that spot and take some measurements. Then every time you go into a thrift store and look at the art you know if you’ve got a spot for it.

But don’t let not having a spot for it stop you! Art is the kind of thing you can easily slide under the bed or behind a piece of furniture to someday go into your dream future home. You might not have a place for it now but one day you will. I have pieces on my walls that I kept squirreled away for years until I had the right place to put them and it was so worth the wait.

You’re going to see a zillion kitschy prints (and not kitschy in a good way), soooo many copies of old master’s paintings, some very bad original art, many many TikTok and Pintrest DIYs. But there will be gems in there, like any other treasure you want to thrift you have to learn to look past the crap and pinpoint the diamonds.

Art and frames don’t have to stay together. You might find a piece of art you love but you hate the frame – take it out, thrift a different frame, re-framing stuff is incredibly easy. Maybe you want to buy a digital pic from some artist you love online, do it! Thrift a frame for it.

Flip through all the frames and if anything catches your eye, stop. Pull it out, take a close look. Is it just the colors you like? Or the subject matter? Is it the whole thing you like? Or does it just have a something you can’t put your finger on?

If a piece speaks to you get it. There’s been so many pieces that I’ve stood in front of trying to talk myself out of it because I couldn’t even tell you WHY I like it – I just look at it and I feel stuff. I know when I find a piece that I stand there and just feel things I can’t even name, that I need to bring it home. I have an ink drawing I call the ‘creepy old man in my bedroom’, and he is objectively creepy, and I love him, I like having him watch over me as I sleep, many people would not like having him around, but he speaks to me.

Art made from decades even centuries ago up to just the last couple of years, all ends up at the thrift store. Sometimes you find a fabulous modern piece, like the gorgeously intricate watercolor of fungus and lichen growing on a tree that I have that has 21 on the back. People are gifted things that don’t fit their style, or they change their minds, or an artist has a clean out and sends all the pieces they’re not happy with to the thrift store. Sometimes you find wonderful old pieces that have the double whammy of being original art and an antique at the same time, like the lonely tree on a windswept hillside I have that I found in 2024, and it had a very faint 24 next to the faded signature – exactly a century old when I bought it into my home.

A bit of research can make a piece so much more special. Whenever I buy a piece of art, I’ll Google the artist if there’s a legible signature or try an image search if I can’t make out the name. Honestly 99 times out of 100 you’re not going to be able to find anything. But sometimes you do find something, and it gives you a whole new reason to love the piece. I found a painting a few years ago, a typical tropical beach scene but done in a really unique dynamic style. I did some research and found out that it was by Semisi Maya, who is widely regarded as the first Fijian artist to find international recognition, he was a leprosy survivor who developed his unique style because his hands were deformed by the disease. I’ve since picked up a second piece of his, I instantly recognized his style from researching the first piece I found.

Don’t try to thrift a particular style or subject matter. A, that’s hard. B, that’s boring. Go with your gut, pick up pieces you love, that speak to you; you’ll find a cohesive style emerges organically without your needing to put effort in. And it will be YOUR style, unique and interesting because we’re all different. Honestly there’s nothing more soulless than a home filled with tasteful art chosen to fit a style, instead of being chosen because the owner looked at it and some weird facet of their brain went ‘Me likey!’.

Check out my thirfting tag

[silvers-smuttery]

Commission: Bruce's Blondes

“I must say, Mister Wayne, this evening has been simply delightful”, Karen Starr complimented the gentleman sitting opposite of her in his limousine. The two had arranged a meeting to discuss a joint business venture of Starrware Industries and the Wayne Foundation. Needless to say negotiations went off without a hitch as both business partners shared the same goal behind it. The rest of the evening was mostly a pleasant dinner between Karen Starr and Bruce Wayne, filled with laughter and mild flirting, which eventually turned into quite overt flirting as the alcohol kept flowing. Or at least, that’s the excuse either of them would present, should the gentleman’s hand creeping down her back, or the lady’s leg rubbing against his be met with controversy. Not that it was.

“I’m certainly glad you enjoyed it. Just one moment, I’ll have Alfred drive you to your hotel”, Bruce took the compliment, holding his champagne out to clink their glasses together. Bruce knew Karen’s real identity, and she knew his. It was that spark of trust that has even led to this business venture to begin with. Seeing his teammate in the stunning, white shoulderless gown, her gaze smoldering as she looked at him with bedroom eyes, did get Bruce a little hot under his collar. Maybe the two could see just how hot things would get in her hote-

“Actually, I never booked one. I was hoping the great Bruce Wayne would be hospitable enough to let me stay the night~”, Power Girl smirked, sipping on her Champagne. She knew from the beginning how this date was going to go. No need to book a room when you know you only need one. And if things hadn’t worked out, she could have simply flown home, followed by an awkward day at the Watch Tower.

The proposition actually managed to startle Bruce. Seeing the stoic Batman’s alter ego choke and cough up his sparkling wine only served to broaden Power Girl’s scarlet red smile, drawing out a small fit of giggles. Though Bruce had an idea that it wasn’t meant as a joke. “My place? Uhm, sure, I’d love to”, The fact that Bruce was THIS startled however did peak the blonde’s curiosity, as well as raising her eyebrow as Bruce caught his composure. Was Bruce keeping secrets from the team again? This twist was certainly unexpected, though really only made the blonde that much more excited to go.

Finally stopping at the front entrance of the large mansion, Bruce was ever the gentleman, extending a hand to help his guest step out of his car. Arm in arm, the two kept advancing towards the door. “A word of warning. My new employee is a little… eccentric”, he explained plainly as he opened the door. Before Karen could even soak that information in, she was greeted by a high-pitched scream, followed by her face getting engulfed by something soft and squishy.

“Welcome home, Mister B. And here I was thinkin’ ya might stay the night out with that blonde bombshell!”

“No Harley, in fact, you are currently smothering that blonde bombshell”

“Oops, sorry. Miss Starr!”

Karen heard that right, didn’t she? That was Harley Quinn. And when her wide eyes were freed of what had to be Double-Ds of cleavage, her suspicions were confirmed. Before her stood Harley Quinn, not in her bodysuit, but in a ridiculously small and revealing Maid Uniform, apparently with nothing else beneath her black apron decorated with red frills. The blonde business woman’s mouth hung agape at the display, a small smile slowly creeping onto her face. Finally tearing herself away from the scandalous sight, Karen shot an excited side eye at Bruce. “That is quite the uniform you have for Miss Quinn, there Bruce”, Power Girl teased, trying hard to hold in her laughter.

“Ya got that wrong, Missy”, Harley interjected, pointing her finger right on her guest’s nose. “I made this one all by myself, so Mister B can have some eye candy while I work”, Harley almost moaned as she let her hands drift over her almost naked form. "Mister B was so kind in takin me in, and makin me his, I say he deserves it.” Harley twirled around, striking poses that barely left anything to their imagination. Her enormous butt was only covered in a tiny thong threatening to tear, while her front was only somewhat obscured by that uniform, barely able to contain her tits. “And I see you very much agree, Madame Starr!”, Harley chuckled. Before Bruce or Karen could intervene, Harley had already closed the distance between her and the other blonde, hands clammering at Power Girl’s big tits. “Gosh, these are firm. Are they really real?”

“Harley, please!”, Bruce interjected, hoping to get his maid to stop groping his guest, but it didn’t seem like she minded much. Power Girl only shot him a salacious look that told him. “You better make this fun, or I’m going to tell the League!”

“Yes, Miss Quinn. 100% real, as your boss is going to learn in a few minutes.”

Bruce was lost. It had become very apparent that he had lost control of this situation, and could only try to get it back. “How about we head up to bed then. Good night, Har-”

“Not so fast, ya blonde bimbo. Don’t think you can pull this on my watch!”, the blonde maid exclaimed, drawing attention back to her. “Don’t think I don’t know whatcha been doin’ all night. Flaunting your body all around to make Master B’s cock hard as a rock and give him balls as blue as a smurf!” Harley kept her hands clammering Karen’s tits, nails digging into her skin as much as they could given her Kryptinian physique. With her frustrations expressed, sorta, Harley moved down to her knees in front of her boss. Before they knew, Bruce’s pants were down at his ankles, his thick dick standing tall as Harley moved to cradle it. “In this house, this musky hunk of cock is my responsibility, ya better get back in line”, the blonde scowled, sticking her tongue out at Karen, before using it on that musky tip.

“Harley-”

“Oh, you don’t think this delicious gentleman is enough man to share? How greedy, Miss Quinn!”, Power Girl chuckled teasingly as she let her dress fall completely in front of Bruce, who took note of her distinct lack of underwear as she settled down right next to Harley. This situation was spiraling more and more out of control. As good as two twirling tongues from busty blondes felt around his burly dick, he had to take charge.

“ENOUGH!” Bruce’s yell echoed through the halls of Wayne Manor. Any moans and slurping sounds halted as the two women looked up in shock and surprise, at the stern growling voice the two had heard so often before. Albeit from different sides. “Bedroom! NOW!” Bruce didn’t wait for either of them to move on their own. He simply grabbed Power Girl and Harley’s blonde hair and dragged the two women along as he walked. Pained grunts were accompanied by hearty, growling moans as they followed his command, biting their lips while their soaked pussies left a trail behind them as they crawled on the floor..

Arriving at the master bedroom, Bruce practically threw the ladies onto the bed. Almost instinctively, the blonde ladies raised their asses at the patriarch of the house, huffing and panting out moans as they shook their cheeks and folds to entice him, drooling in excitement onto the soft sheets below. Their eyes met, giggling like school girls making a silent bet with each other, though their chuckles were cut short by a harsh smack against each of their cheeks, turning into shrill shrieks. “Go on, beg for it. What do you want?”, Bruce demanded them to speak, shoving two fingers into each of their soaking pussies and making them inhale sharply.

“Please, Master B. I am your maid- No! Your pet. I’m yours to use and dump your fat load into any of my holes and everywhere on my body. Slap me, beat me, dump all of your delicious spunk on me that this bitch tried to keep for herself!”, Harley panted like a dog, grinding her pussy on his fingers before biting down into the blanket she laid on.

“Yeah, let me be your loyal bitch dog. I need a big, strong, muscly stud to handle and breed me. You’re one of the few men who could handle me. I teased you all night so you could put a baby in your breeding bitch! I want my belly full and round with your baby batter for the rest of my life! *bark bark bark*!”, Power Girl continued with voicing their desires, eyes rolled up to the back of her head as she started fucking herself on his hand.

“Good girls”, Bruce praised them as he let his dick smack each of their asses, giving the illusion of making a choice when he had already decided which bitch to breed first. Karen’s tongue rolled out of her mouth when he pumped his cock into her waiting core in one go. The pressure inside the cunt from Krypton was almost overwhelming and it would have been for anybody who wasn’t the Batman. Bruce kept his composure while his hips rocked into the blonde’s wide womanly hips. Perfect to bear his seed when he was ready to unleash his load.

Harley couldn’t help but pout when he saw her Master breed the new skank first. “Well, ya got lucky you're the fancy new toy here”, the former jestress chuckled as she crawled over to her master’s new girl to suck up her lazy tongue and force hers into her gaping mouth, as Bruce grabbed Karen’s hips to pound her firm ass harder. It was her duty to support her Master and make sure he spread his seed as best as he could.

Bruce was focused on pounding Power Girl, so he was too preoccupied to pay attention to Harley crawling off the bed, until she turned up behind him. He had to take a pause when he felt Harley spread his ass cheeks, before her hot, wet tongue found its way to his rim. His balls churned and twitched when he felt her tongue his asshole. “I knew you were worth it Harley, good girl!”, Bruce praised his pig-tailed maid, which made her dig in deeper and more voraciously. Power Girl used the slight pause in the action to adjust her position, rolling over onto her back as she pulled Bruce in with all her body, arms and legs completely wrapped around the human stud and making him kiss her passionately.

With all the attention from two busty bombshell blondes, Bruce’s dam eventually broke. His balls exploded with a flood of cum pumped right into the Kryptonian’s baby chamber, which slurped up every little drip until it couldn’t possibly drink more.

“Oh, god..." Oh fuckk… I think I can feel my eggs getting fertilized. If you didn’t get me pregnant right now, nothing will, he”, Karen laughed, as much as exhaustion allowed her. Even she worked up a little sweat, though by far not as much as the stallion hunched over her, dripping the musky liquid over her. Once she noticed Harley at his backdoor, still lapping away, Power Girl whispered into his ear, “I think it’s time you gave her a treat too.”

Moments later, Harley was also on her back, back on the bed as Bruce thrust his dick into her waiting pussy. If anything, Power Girl's encouraging words made him rock her world even harder than he did hers, caressing his muscles as she watched her twintails bounce as the happy maid got pounded. "You want to see her get the same treatment?", Bruce asked the woman by his side.

"You know me so well. Not like we're going to give her a choice, but I don't think she'll mind", Karen Starr whispered in Bruce’s ear, her hands gently wandering down from his pecs to his abs, over his crotch towards Harley womb, caressing and pressing down on her baby chamber. She playfully bit his earlobe as she felt Bruce shoot another load into his maid, knocking her up too.

"You know there is no doubt our project will make me come to Gotham more often. What would you say if I just stayed? Y’know, so you can watch both of us progress~”, Power Girl offered herself to Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, sealing it with a deep kiss while Harley drooled her scrambled brain out of her mouth, basking in the warmth of her boss's seed flooding her ovaries.

[criminalyapping]

senior year | most likely to...

mean girls (2024) masterlist main masterlist

rated T for language

tw: cancer, use of slurs (d*ke)

“The dance is next weekend, Regina, what do you mean you don’t have a dress yet!?” You scold one the following Wednesday at lunch.

“It’s coming in the mail, literally chill.” She laughs.

“What if it doesn’t fit? What if you don’t like it?” You worry.

“It will be fine, stop worrying you loser,” She chides.

“Fine, just don’t complain to me about it when you don’t like it.” You say.

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” Regina laughs.

You send a playful glare her direction.

“Anyways,” You change the subject, including the whole group, “What is everyone else wearing?”

The group talks excitedly amongst themselves about colors and cuts and accessories.

You look around the cafeteria for a moment as your friends chat and catch a good amount of people looking over at your table. That’s not odd, per say, but it seems more intense today for some reason.

You see people looking, stifling laughs, and even pointing their phones at you. There’s definitely something happening.

“Gretchen?” You cut into the conversation, “Why is everybody looking over here?” You ask.

“Oh!” She says, quickly darting her eyes around to observe the other students. “Weird,” She comments, seeing what you’re seeing. Everyone else looks around too.

“Let me look,” Gretchen says, pulling out her phone.

Her face scrunches up in concentration as she stares at her phone, quickly tapping.

“I don’t see anything,” She pouts, disliking not being in the know.

“Weird,” Karen adds.

“Very,” You say, thoroughly weirded out.

“Babe,” Regina draws your attention back to her, “Come with me to my locker?” She asks, obviously trying to get you out of the cafeteria.

“Sure,” You agree, standing up and grabbing your backpack.

“I’ll see you in gov, Janis.” You tell her as you start to walk away.

You and Regina walk out of the cafeteria and down the halls of the school, but the looks and whispered laughs follow you.

You don’t need to stop at your locker, but you pass it on the way to Regina’s. There’s a group of students crowded around it, laughing.

You and Regina share a look, before she tilts her head up and stalks over to them.

“Hey, fuck off!” She yells, the students quickly dispersing. As they leave, you see what they were laughing at. There’s a piece of paper taped to your locker.

It’s reminiscent of the burn book pages, your school photo blown up with your name on the top.

Underneath your picture, it seems that someone has given you your own superlative, one that’s definitely not going in the year book.

According to the student body of North Shore, you have been voted “most likely to turn Regina George gay”

You’re not particularly offended, mostly just shocked, but a jolt of fear runs through you when you think about how Regina will react.

Regina stares at it for a moment, and the whole hallway seems to wait with baited breath. At least 10 people have their phones up to video her.

Regina rips the paper down and crumples it up. She turns around sharply, her hair flipping over her shoulder.

“Nobody turned me gay, fuckers! Get a fucking life,” She announces, throwing the ball of paper on the floor. She links your arms together and walks, dragging you with her towards her locker.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask as Regina turns the dial at her locker.

She takes a deep breath, then turns to you with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She says. “Are you?” She asks.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely weird but it wasn’t about me, really.” You tell her.

“Yeah, whatever,” She says, “People are just obsessed with me,”

“It’s because you’re so gorgeous,” You compliment sweetly.

“Shut up.” She says, the blush on her face giving away her feelings.

“Anyways,” she changes the subject, “I’m so excited for this weekend. Are you bringing a suitcase or a duffel bag?” She asks, referring to the state championship this weekend.

You’ll be leaving on the bus right after lunch on Friday, and returning on Sunday.

“I’m bringing a duffel bag, I mean, all we really need are our uniforms and some pajamas to sleep in.” You tell her.

“How do we get coach to put us in a room together at the hotel?” She asks with a smile.

“I don’t know, you think a $20 will do the trick?” You joke.

Your laughs are cut off by the bell, and you give Regina a smile as you turn to walk to government.

“What happened?” Janis asks as soon as you sit down.

You tell her, and Janis looks affronted.

“People need to leave her the fuck alone.” She comments.

“Agreed,” You say with a nod.

“But she, handled it well? Better than… previous times?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m actually really proud of how it went. She just told everyone to get a life and then moved on.” You tell her.

“Good for her.” Janis says with a smile. “Are you guys excited for state?” She asks.

“Oh, so excited. The bus ride is going to suck, it’s like 3 hours to get there, but we’ll just nap and listen to music and whatever.” You say.

“You guys are going to kill it,” Janis encourages. “I wish we could come,” She pouts.

“Don’t even worry, it’s so far away and for a whole weekend. And who knows, we might lose our first two and be done by lunch on Saturday.” You laugh.

“With how you guys play? Unlikely.” She denies.

“We’ll see,” You smile.

[quibbs126]

Oh yeah, I did this yesterday as well. I didn’t post it since the canvas isn’t full, but the design mostly is

This is for that g2 inspired AU thing I talked about…last week was it?

But yeah, I had decided to try my hand at some of the designs of the characters (which are mostly TFA inspired but not entirely), which at that point were pretty much just Optimus and Hoist, but then for whatever reason I never got back to it

But yesterday at work I was attempting to draw this design again on my cardboard sheet because I needed something to draw, and some of my coworkers saw it and really liked it, and so I decided to go back and finish the digital sketch

So yeah, this is that. G2 inspired AU Hoist. Need a better name for that

She’s almost entirely based on this first toy, with her colors coming from the second because of my different colors rule

Admittedly the toy isn’t at tow truck as I want, and I need to figure out how her hook and such fits into her robot mode, but it’s a start at least

I’m also aware her chest plate is a bit too plain, and it needs some sprucing up. I kind of made the design while not thinking about the actual color scheme she was going to have

Speaking of colors, I do like these colors on her. I don’t know if they fit her personality, but I think they look nice on her. Took some tweaking to get it right though

But yeah, this is supposed to be her like, initial design, so I’ll work on it as I go I suppose

Oh yeah, and I also made an alternate color version of her with the original green and orange colors

I’m still sticking with the other colors, but I just did this for fun

Yeah I just felt like sharing this. Though unfortunately I don’t know when I’ll have the full canvas done because other than Optimus and Megatron, I have literally no clue who else to put here, Autobot or Decepticon