#anyways expect more art of this guy to be uploaded at some point because I dont think he is going to leave

[abeterger]

Discord Icon we made for a man that has INVADED OUR BRAIN... Literally. It has been YEARS since we have THOUGHT of this series. Where did he come from. Girl I am possessed by a Ghost now. He has described his own canon to me that loosely follows the actual thing. Girl help. Girl. Can anyone hear me. Hello.

[aviculor]

Halloween Ends. Just like I said, it was ripped off Peacock and uploaded onto pirate sites immediately. So here it is.

As much as I appreciate the stock "horror movie playing on the TV" trope using The Thing as a fun nod to John Carpenter's other work, Corey should have realized it was "actually pretty disgusting and probably not safe for kids" a long time before the operating table scene.

That was one fucking Hell of a cold open, though. Reminds me of how Carpenter wanted the franchise to be unrelated Halloween-themed stories.

It's been 4 years and Laurie's really been trying to heal and move on now. This is so sad, knowing Michael is coming back again.

This is...incredibly not the story I was expecting.

I guess the point is that Michael really was just some guy and that the evil that lurks within humanity, anyone can be the "shape" it takes. Interestingly, Corey followed in Michael's footsteps because he became ostracized and a social pariah because of a mistake he made a long time ago. People's perceptions of him snowballed and he was used as an easy scapegoat for the town's fear and paranoia. He was not only directly harmed by the people around him, but he was denied his community and the ability to heal and move past this horrible tragedy that traumatized him. And thus, he became the monster everyone treated him like. This is interesting because it's very close to what I said they should have rebooted Michael's character to be like instead of defaulting back to the "escaped mental patient whose thoughts we can never hope to comprehend" thing. There's almost an implication that this actually is the case for this version of Michael.

Though to be honest, I and probably every other viewer came here for Michael Myers vs Laurie Strode, not this. We did get what we came here for, but it was the last 20 minutes of a 2 hour film which was otherwise about a bullied white boy going full school shooter. Complete with a makeover from meek nerd to sociopathic bad boy who fucks. He even managed to overpower Michael and steal his mask, which is just Mary Sue-ing the Mary Sue. Him and his whole deal just completely came out of left field. Like, Michael let him live and began mentoring him in the art of murder? That's absurd. It raises more questions than it does answers. I think I would have liked this whole Corey business better if it was another film set in the same universe, like Spiral and the Saw franchise.

Anyway, I'm glad Laurie got her happy ending. The people of Haddonfield can come together and finally heal from their trauma. You know, ignoring how they already managed to bully someone into becoming a copycat killer. But he's dead now, so let's just sweep that under the rug.

[otherpeoplescreativity]

Using a game to make character portraits

I think I'm fixin' to start a side issue fight.

Sorry?

Anyway, below the ReadMore is going to be some carefully chosen screencaps of supersuit-type characters from City of Heroes: Homecoming. I'm establishing a Theme and then starting a constructive criticism of my own designs within that Theme.

If you want to instead decry my lack of artistry in using a video game's character designer, and perhaps compare to using Artbreeder, you are valid! and I probably won't change my ways no matter how impassioned your point.

In our ttrpg, Our Heroes have moved up very close to the point of the story where they are likely to face a mid-level Combat Challenge.

The "Theme" of the Supergroup is the kind of investigative superhero who may wear a trenchcoat. Their powers and approach tend toward the sneaky, the indirect, the contemplative. These are definitely not "FREEEEEM first and ask questions later" types.

They have spent six sessions facing People vs Puzzle challenges, either by having noncombat encounters with witnesses (and each other!) or by using their current knowledge to track down another Strange Device Probably Left Here By Unknown Supervillain. They have only just now gotten involved enough that Supervillain might notice something's up, and detail a few lower-level Minions to go tidy the edges.

The "Theme" of the coming mid-level Villain Minion Squad therefore cannot be combat heavies! The Minions should be dangerous, but solvable by the same indirect and sneaky and trenchcoat-wearing tactics.

All of the Minions for this group are expected to wear "crimson jumpsuits". Some have more pockets. Some have modified the sleeves. Some have underlayers.

All have superpowers.

I took some "crowd control" characters that I used to play in City of Villains, whose costumes I had saved before shutdown in 2012, and used them in Homecoming to pose for some character portraits. Here's what I have so far:

I don't know why Pichana's picture is uploading like this, all the way over to the left. Anyway this guy has already been captured by the Heroes. Part of what the rest of the Villain Minion Squad should do is to try to find out what happened to him. Not that they necessarily want him back!

I do not like the shiny red boots, they don't match the description I wrote out for the character. But nothing in the game DOES match. And I have absolutely no graphic arts skills to modify.

Anyway, I have established the basics of the Theme: no obvious electronics. Personal styling mostly happens in the accessories. The available resources for these "work uniforms" include decent quality fits, because this tall thin man does not have his pants riding up his calves or his sleeves "pushed up" to suggest the off-the-rack feel of something too short for his dimensions.

Not a lot of armor. For only the one guy, that might be happenstance. Maybe he was not expected to encounter heroes. Maybe his own team would rather he succumb if they have to practice aggressive attitude adjustment.

Here is one of the crowd control specialists. I have not settled on a name for her yet; let's call her "Verse" for the moment.

Verse is obviously going to have fire-related abilities. (That is what she WANTS you to think!)

She does not have much in the way of pockets or belt pouches on this crimson jumpsuit. I want to give careful thinkers the idea that maybe her manager does not trust her with gear.

Verse also has deep red scars that show up splendidly on her pale peach skin. If her power were not actively building up in preparation for use, one might also note that her eyes are white all over -- no visible iris coloration.

Again this person's clothing is not baggy or super snug. A clothing connoisseur will have a chance of noticing that every one of these Minions has their clothing tailored to suit their bodies, if not their preferences.

Verse does not have upper body protection at all. She does have those fingerless gloves to improve her grip or to protect her palms. She has some kind of shinguard in place on both legs, mostly protecting the upper two thirds of the shin, but her boots are flat-soled ankle boots.

Verse also has black leather straps wrapped around her upper thighs, attaching to the red leather waist belt at about the points of her pelvic bones. Does Verse sometimes go parachuting? Is she partway geared up to wear a rocketpack? That is a deliberate style choice that will hopefully get the Trenchcoat Brigade speculating.

This last fellow is going to need two images to show what I was doing with his design:

This one also needs a better name. Back in the Rogue Isles, the original Corrupter character was named "Grigaere". I do not think this version is going to suit the original gregarious Black Forest of Germany story, but I will refer to him as "Grigaere" for now anyway.

Grigaere has energy blast powers, but they look like beams of darkness. (Grigaere was a Dark Blast/Pain Dominator Corruptor, for those familiar with the City of Villains stuff.)

I am not delighted with how his full-length portrait turned out, because I could not get the camera close enough without cutting off part of him:

There is a lot about this costume that I think I could have done better, to the point that I am not sure which bit to tackle first. I picked the slightly looser fit of trousers and jacket sleeves because I do not want most of the characters to look like they have to be peeled out of their supersuits. I picked the motorcycle boots to give the character an impression of stolidity in combat: once Grigaere chooses his location, he anchors himself in place and starts doing ranged attacks.

His belt has several small pouches attacked all around it. He has something-or-other along as equipment, but it is exclusively items of palm size or smaller; there is no pocket where he could store a cellphone, for example, or a wrench and screwdriver. This may be a specialist but this is not a mechanic. He is not expected to do any manual tasks that could get messy, those sleeves would get stained and damaged, and maybe put his safety at risk.

Right now I have one "crowd control" type, and one "ranged attack" type. The entire Villain Minion Squad would be expected to notice enemies at a range of more than half a room away. They would be expected to hem those enemies into place, then do ranged damage to quickly knock all resistance into unconsciousness or compliance.

I really do need to convert three more members of the team, at least one of whom will be mostly team defense. But if I can't figure out what is wrong with Grigaere's outfit, how to make it look more aesthetically suitable to the Theme and also more believable as Minion What Does Sometimes Fight For Evil, I am stumped on how to move forward at all.

Can I keep the loose fit on Grigaere? Or does that need to go?

[esha-isboogara]

jojo’s bizarre porn tropes

publishing even MORE headcanons before i finish the first set ? an absolute iconic move from me tbh. i went crazy with my tags bro😩but anyways enjoy this …i will do more characters if i can come up with more tropes

here’s part two

jonathan - he’s very vanilla so your videos fall under the passionate category. jonathan takes the act of making love very seriously so expect to cum at least twice in one session. he won’t over stimulate though , he gives you a pleasant high. y’all don’t post a lot but when you do it’s usually a movie that will have the viewers drooling.

joseph- amateur porn. he isn’t too fond on setting up a camera and having a script or whatever. he’d much rather record you giving him head or maybe a lil pov of back shots. joseph makes sure you’re featured on his only fans regularly. videos are usually no longer than 5 minutes.

jotaro- big dick small girl trope. my god this man is hung. people watching your videos are always slightly worried for your safety. how does it fit? women all around the world want to be you. some of the more aggressive sessions almost always lead to concerned comments. jotaro does have a bit of a reputation so he refuses to show his face along with yours.

kakyoin- not a trope but most of your posts are cosplay related. dressing up as your favorite anime characters and fucking for money is a dream come true. a lot of work goes into your videos mainly because of the well put together costumes and make up looks. the entire look gets ruined in the end but presentation is a big deal. the two of you have a cute set up. it’s high effort but the rewards are so worth it.

josuke- innocent boy and experienced woman. he still won’t say it out loud but he is a total bottom so having you top him/take control is perfect. josuke will use titles like “step mom gives new son blowjob during dinner” to catch a persons attention. or so he says. you’d swear he has a bit of a thing for it. your videos are usually a bit longer and medium effort.

giorno- very beautifully done/well put together porn. people who watch the two of you enjoy modern art and pretty landscapes. it’s essentially art house porn. your content is extremely well put together and is pleasing to eye as well as to the dick/pussy. giorno doesn’t much care if his face is recognized-hes a crime lord there’s not much anyone can do at this point.

leone- rough sex! the people who watch your videos are sickos and the others are worried for your safety. lots of tying up, whipping, slapping and abuse of your little hole. don’t worry it’s all consensual and monitored.

bruno- pov style porn. honestly an iconic move from him. he loves to go back and watch your tapes so why not upload them. similar to joseph they’re never longer than five minutes but there’s a good amount of them. occasionally you two will put together tutorials for those less experienced in sex.

jolyne- lesbian! jojo knows how much men love that wlw content so the two of you exploit that fetish to the max. it started off as just a few short clips but as time went on you and jolyne got a whole set up. most of your vids are pretty basic but men especially eat them up so 🤪

hermes- massage porn. she’s always been good with her hands so why not use her abilities for something fun? you guys don’t upload often. not because you don’t want to just because you always forget or get too caught up in what you’re doing.

foo fighters- the two of you were on the weirder side of porn hub. strange toys, story lines and odd outfits. from alien sex to retro porn you’ve done it all. honestly it doesn’t really matter if others find it sexy the two of you enjoy it. it doesn’t take much to convince them to post your videos- it takes longer to explain how the camera works than anything.

[bloominglifedyinglife]

Hey there! Sorry for the pause in art! Helping out with hay bailing doesn't exactly leaves the arms in a 'I-want-to-draw' state.

Anyways, I had wanted to upload some pictures for my TOH AU when I realized that I had nothing about Nicholas and Abigail beyond their initial face sketches!!!

So here's some for you guys!!

The first picture is Nicholas in his emperor's armor, as I haven't gotten around to drawing his outer garb yet. The diamonds adorning his outfit are not for decoration, rather they are the main 'source' of Nicholas's artificial magic. Unlike Philip, Nicholas does not have a love for machinery, (nor is he keen on inflicting self harm to try and use glyphs), so Nicholas would struggle a lot in learning to make his artificial magic work for him.

For a long time, Nicholas refused to even entertain the idea of creating artificial magic. It took him even longer to figure out how to make it work, not to mention learning to wield it. He eventually got the hang of working with his gadgets. He even tried making smaller trinkets to get the idea on how to make something work. Once he was down with them however, he would just have them tossed. Not even being useful enough to be scrapped as that point.

I would like to add it that Philip would then find these trinkets in the garbage dump and take them to improve them. Insulting whoever made them in the first place as the designs were horrible.

One of the reasons he has so many stabilizing crystals is because they help control his artificial magic when he has to use it on a large scale. They also help with keeping his curse in check from small outbursts. He still needs palisman for when the curse goes too far, but they have thus far prevented a repeat of the incident with his wife.

Abigail on the other hand, as a more modest outfit, following the ideals of 'women should always wear dresses' that she and her husband were born into. The outfit is about 17th century-ish, definitely not from the era they came from.

One thing that Abigail does not embrace about their cultural upbringing is her lack of control as a woman. Even centuries later she still has to fight her husband on the right to have any control. Especially once they both became Emperor and Empress of the Boiling Isles. Part of her duty as Empress is the management of the Isles, from creating the laws, to making sure that schools keep to the 'single-track' study to enforce the Coven System.

The only reason she has any say at all is because the people of the Isles expect her to.

Just like how despite us knowing how canon!Belos would have felt about same sex relationships, or gender change, or even sex before marriage, Belos DIDN'T DO anything about it. That was because it was a part of the Boiling Isles, the people never saw anything wrong with it. It would have been harder to convince the people that their way of life regarding their genders, sexuality, and acceptance of all of it was wrong compared to getting everyone to follow the Coven System. So Belos had no choice but to ignore it and act like he accepted it just like them.

It's the same thing here, despite the people of the Boiling Isles being new to the idea of having rulers over the Isles, they still expected them BOTH to have a say. Abigail keeps hold on this right with an iron fist.

And I will say this now, Abigail's chest gem is NOT like Eda's It serves a different purpose entirely.

I wanted to draw more of these two so I went ahead and drew them as chibis!! Don't they both look vicious?

[corruptionasart]

general blog update i guess?

So like I just spent like an hour multitasking a bunch of unrelated stuff and also replying to an ask and it got me in a mood to type stuff so I'm just gonna say a few things that have been sticking in my mind lately about this blog and rom corruption etc.

So like, rom corruption isn't special, the way I do it isn't special. Actually the way I do it is actively worse than how pretty much everyone else does it who uses the program that I use.

You can find more info on that and the corruptor I use in general at corrupt.wiki which is a great resource if anybody out there wants to get into this stuff. I made a really cringey tutorial video for it like 5 years ago and it's extremely outdated so don't even bother.

So if you wanna do some corruptions the tech is there, roms are as widely available as they've always been, you can just go out there and do it. I've always maintained that the real work, the real "art" behind what this blog is about is what is shown to you as opposed to what is not shown.

Speaking of that, so this past month I hadn't uploaded any new gifs or anything until a few days ago, but I had been recording corruptions off and on. I ended up recording over an hour from various games and all of that ended up netting me 7 gifs. Which if I'm honest is more just me being more selective since I feel like I have a pretty big back catalog of stuff and so I'm only really showing you guys the really unique stuff at this point. And also there's a lot more to editing these gifs than you might think, most of these aren't just straight clips from the video.

I say all that only to sort of reset any kind of expectations for this blog, like I'm not gonna go back to keeping this blog stocked with 5 posts a day in queue for all eternity.

Anyway, as far as the other types of content popping up on the blog, like my music stuff... uhhh... I'm gonna keep doing that stuff and keep posting it but I realize that if I want to grow any of that stuff I'd have to start posting elsewhere and doing stuff on real social media and I just can't be bothered tbh. What I've learned over the past few months is that

I'm just really terrible at being a Content Creator

and tbh that's fine? Like if that was how I intended to make money or whatever then it would be an issue but I have, like, a job?, and that kinda hampers my willingness to go out and be on that social media grindset that would actually bring what I make to the fore. That's kind of disappointing in a way but hey that's life.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway that's what's going through my head these days, sorry it's so long but whatever man that's just how it's gonna have to be.

btw I'm probably gonna do a twitch stream or something tomorrow doing what I've spent the past couple days doing, creating a really stupid geoguessr map. You can play it here, it's really dumb, but I'm gonna keep adding to it because it's important to me and nobody else has done this concept so why not.

if you've actually read this far down and you want to say anything about it I do have asks open although I'm about to go to sleep right now so don't expect a reply until tomorrow bye

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[whatsupzombie]

what if! i post art to tumblr again? :o this is Hazard-13, my guardian from destiny 2, so i guess this is technically fanart? pff. anyway, @artnyarn​ asked me to tell her about them, so i guess i’m doing that hereeee.

there’s. a lot to talk about with destiny. but to start, Hazard-13 is an exo, which is the robot race in destiny. they were all once people who had a snapshot of their brains taken (a fatal process for the body) and uploaded into a metal chassis. the process was created by, tbh kind of a mad scientist some 600 years before game canon time, and afaik, the only exos left in the world are either those still functional since then (the process was meant to make people immortal, after all) or those raised as guardians. 

guardians are the pcs of destiny. they are people (human, exo, or awoken, which is sometimes described as “neo-human”) who were raised by ghosts, the lil flying robot talking to Hazard. they’re generally shaped like this:

Hazard’s ghost is called Crowley and he’s got a little paper bat hat. the ghosts are lil machines created by the Traveler, which is a giant orb and may or may not be a god. it terraformed nearly every planet and moon in the solar system, allowing humanity to spread out and technology to advance wildly quickly.

the Traveler is currently hovering over the Last City, named so because it’s essentially where most of civilization on earth has gathered, under the Traveler’s protection. now. the Traveler uses/has/is made of (???) Light, which the ghosts use to find and raise their guardians. guardians weaponize Light to fight enemies with, basically, magic abilities (and also guns pff). the story is also moving less toward light is good and dark is bad, so guardians are now also making use of Darkness, which is neat. 

anyhow, when a ghost raises a guardian to fight for the Traveler, that guardian is from then on effectively immortal, able to be revived by their ghost whenever they die. guardians end up forming very close bonds with their ghosts, and it goes both ways.

oh also! when guardians are raised, they don’t have any memories. the idea is kind of that being raised is a fresh start. tho, there are both ghosts and guardians that go rogue, so it does mean that anyone is incorruptible. 

without getting too deep into that point, exos have numbers after their names to show how many times they’ve been reset. literally. there’s various reasons for resets, the main reason being that existing in a metal body is hard on the mind and exo would sometimes start to lose their minds. there are a multitude of reasons, but the first iteration of an exo is always Name-1. so Hazard has been reset 12 times before they were raised.

no one in current game canon has full access to the workings of exos (that mad scientist guy definitely died 600 years ago and took most of his work with him), so they’re pretty mysterious. 

guardians are also forbidden from looking into who they used to be, based on the premise that they were raised to be given a second chance, so it no longer matters who they used to be. this is obvs frustrating, and hazard occasionally gets annoyed with how many mysteries plague their existence. 

onto the magic part! Hazard is a warlock class guardian, so that means they’re abilities look more like what you would expect magic attacks to look like (mystical floating, summoning fire, that kind of thing). Hazard uses a lot of solar abilities, so that’s a lot of fire damage. those glowing gauntlets they have are called sunbracers, and they amplify their solar power. 

there’s. a lot. that goes on in destiny, but Hazard themself is kind of aloof and annoyed most of the time. they like hanging out alone with Crowley, or with a few close friends. they don’t mind the chaos of the world so much, but the repeated deaths and mysteries do wear on them from time to time. and, there’s rarely a time they’ll turn down a request for help, even if they sound annoyed they whole time. 

this is very long!!! tbh, it’s interesting to have a character with no actual backstory, so most of their story is the plot of the game or what they’re reactions would be. 

[spirits-world-webcomic]

Hello! To give an update to Spirit’s World, production is currently on extended hiatus. Of course, episode 2 is done, and slowly being uploaded to buy myself some time, but episode 3 has unfortunately been on halt in the mean time. This is primarily because I’ve developed #brainrot for submas, or those funky train guys from pokemon. See my main blog (which is my art blog at this point), and yeah. You know how it is.

Additionally, I’m trying to make spirit’s world better, so the break will hopefully give me fresh eyes to make it better. I’m very critical of how the pages look now, and honestly, I think they look kind of like hot crap. Story wise, the episodes out right now are okay, but this one is too lengthy, especially when it comes to weekly updates, and also is very burdensome on me when I do work on it. So some learning experiences.

Episode 3 is still in stuck in storyboard, and I haven’t touched it in months. But I have been thinking about it, and letting the plot marinate, so I can make the episode a bit more refreshing. I did flub up by starting Spirit’s World before some key elements were established, but if I kept waiting, I personally would have never started, so some things in the future may be retconned though I don’t believe I need to do that because enough information is vague enough, or tracks enough for me to actually just roll with it. Expect minicomics, the key ones being between episodes.

Some things I’m thinking about changing: style - style will still roughly be the same, but there’s going to be more lineart used, and perhaps I’ll let some sketch layer peep through for more texture. Currently I find it too light, and flat, but I can’t paint all the pages because that’ll absolutely kill me. So I’m hoping to make episode 3 more visually interesting. Which, that’s what a lot of webcomics do, so terribly new. | backgrounds - they will probably go some level of style change yet again because these are sooo time consuming, and are a big factor as to why i spend so long making pages. I want them detailed, but I’ll probably utilize some level of loose lineart to give some depth while saving my hands.

Anyways, apologizes for the strangeness that comes with this fic. Trying my best, and hey, I’m learning some things, and hopefully each episode comes out a little bit better.

[my-arlington-academia]

Cliffany part 2

O-kay, and that’s it! I don’t know if I’ll write a continuation tbh since it was just a silly little idea that came out of nowhere. (Although I did have some ideas for more!) I haven’t really been active on my fanblog lately so it’s not like it’ll make much of a difference though haha. By the way, I’m thinking about making my blog more "Dulcet-oriented" rather than just SE. I hope you guys don’t mind? Recently, I’ve been getting more and more into Black Tarot! So expect my blog to change a lil 🔮🕯🌌

--------------------

It had been a couple of days now since Tiffany’s last interaction with Claire, and while she was still ignoring her like before, Tiffany’s efforts in doing so had increased. The moment she spotted her in the corner of her eye, she would move at a faster pace, as if running away. Was it guilt after all? No, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with Claire’s annoying and unnecessary empathy. The empathy that she knew she didn’t deserve which made her feel even more frustrated towards Claire.

All she should be worried about right now is getting more followers on Instaglam, not avoiding a nobody like the plague. On that note, spring was coming soon, the flowers started to blossom and the days were getting longer which meant... that the "cottagecore" tag on insta would go trending soon, no doubt! And of course, living on the Arlington campus as one of its students, this gave Tiffany the access to its beautiful garden. Although honestly, she only ever went there to take pictures and this time wasn’t any different. She had prepared some tea sets and dresses for the occasion, all of which she would throw away once spring went away along with its "trends."

Carried by her confident footsteps, she walked to the garden. That confidence was only a facade though. She knew exactly what kind of people and who in particular went to take strolls quite often in this goddamn garden. But hey, it was 7pm and the sun would soon start to set. Knowing that Claire always arrives 15 minutes in advance to any meeting and most likely always wakes up at 6am, there was nothing to be worried about. Chances are, she was either doing her homework before going to bed like a goody-two-shoes or watering her weird-ass plants. Tiffany always had the horror of seeing these at Raquel’s parties. It just didn’t fit at all with the rest of what was going on in the room and ruined the whole "party" vibe.

In any case, there she was, searching for a good spot to take pictures and set up a fake picnic. That basket filled with different colored blankets, tea sets, biscuits, tea and a pie was way heavier than Tiffany had initially thought. Maybe she really should’ve asked for collab pictures with Trisha from the fine arts department. She didn’t really like her but when it came to follower count they were surprisingly close, although Tiffany was still number one of course. Still, if she had asked for a collab they could’ve carried those heavy props together.

After finding a good spot next to the pond, Tiffany set everything up in an aesthetically pleasing manner and got down to taking the pictures. She was taking different shots to post them one by one throughout the week and give out the illusion that she was taking those the same day she posted them. She was ready to upload the first one, call it a day and go back to the dorms without touching any of the tea or cakes. It’s all just useless calories anyways. As she was putting the tags on the picture, she started wondering what were the names of those flowers in the background.

"Ugh, fuck. What are those orange shits called again?"

"Marigolds."

"Ah right, thank y-"

Tiffany immediately snapped her head back. This annoyingly gentle voice could only belong to one person.

"...What the fuck, Claire. Where did you pop out from?!"

There’s no was she was there the whole time, right? It’s true that Tiffany could get lost in what she was doing once she was focused but it wasn’t to the point where she became completely unaware of her surroundings.

"I came by a few minutes ago... Y-you looked so invested in what you were doing that I didn’t want to bother you! I didn’t mean to pry."

Well, Tiffany could always upload those damn pictures from her room. Claire’s arrival just meant that it was time for her to leave. However, seeing that Tiffany started packing up her things, Claire panicked thinking that it’s her fault. Which was in fact, her fault... in a way.

"O-oh! You’re not going to finish your picnic? I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave! Throwing all of this good food away would be such a waste-"

"Are you fucking dumb?"

Did she not get that this was all only a set-up for taking pictures? It was obvious that Tiffany didn’t have any intention of eating or drinking any of that. Not to mention that after everything that happened the other day, she was still not scared of approaching her?

"I don’t give a damn about the food, it was just for my social media accounts you dumb bit- ... dimwit. I was already done anyway so you don’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m leaving."

"I see! T-then maybe I can help?!"

Help? What did Claire even know about- Actually, on second thought. This whole "cottagecore" shtick was a great fit for Claire. She probably already had all of the things Tiffany bought last week for those pictures, even better and more authentic-looking ones probably. This was maybe the one and only time Tiffany would let Claire "help" her. But from her point of view, she was mostly just using her.

"Hm. Is that so? How can you help me then... Claire."

"Wait just a second! I’ll be back right away!!!"

She ran immediately towards the dorms. Well, she'll probably bring a bunch of random stuff. In the end, Tiffany was really torn between the idea of staying and waiting for who knows how long and the idea of leaving right now. Surely, Claire would make a hilarious expression when she’d realize that she was played with and abandoned. While trying to laugh it off, Tiffany accidentally remembered what happened a few days ago, along with Claire’s crying face. Damn... Okay, fine. She’ll wait for her but only because it would be annoying if she bawled again like a damn toddler.

And so she waited until, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a girl with a pink dress running towards her. That girl, of course, being Claire. She carried a picnic basket with her too, but much bigger and more practical. For half a second, Tiffany thought that Claire actually looked maybe, just maybe, a little bit pretty. She erased the thought in a hurry, covering it with harsh words as usual.

"Wh-why did you change your clothes? You think I’m gonna take pictures of you?"

"Ah, no, well..."

Claire looked at the beautiful picnic set-up and the cyan dress Tiffany was wearing.

"I just wanted to fit in with the rest of what you put up, I guess. Also, don’t you think that we kinda match? I brought some of the cookies I baked and my favorite teas and tea set. I think mine will look better with your picnic blanket! Uh- N-not to say that yours looks bad!!!"

She was trying so hard to make herself likable that it was painful to see... and kinda cute. God, Tiffany was really hating her thoughts today. She was just going soft because of Claire’s aura or something. Again, this was definitely the first and last time she was letting Claire help her with anything. I’d be bad if she turns completely brain-dead and clueless like her.

"...Whatever. Show me what you got. I’ll decide if it’s good enough."

Claire was pulling everything out of the basket one by one. Everytime, better and better items were pulled out after the other. Her cakes and cookies gave off a "homey" feeling which was more fitting with the aesthetic rather than Tiffany’s store bought patisseries. Claire was staring at her, wide-eyed and excited.

"W-what do you think, Tiffany? It looks good, doesn’t it?!"

"Uh. Yeah, it’s fine, I guess. I’ll take a few pics."

That was a lie. This looked so much better than the try-hard bullshit Tiffany had done. She was good at riding on the "trend wave" but Claire was a natural when it came to this one specific thing. Tiffany was trying to look as poker-faced as she could so as to not show her satisfaction, but clearly, her apparent enthusiasm for each shot was  betraying her. Sometimes, she would accidentally take one with Claire in the shot and ask her to move.

"Hey. You’re ruining the picture with your ugly fac- dress. Move to the right."

Before Tiffany could even do anything about it, Claire was already pouring some tea into 2 cups.

"Woah woah woah, put the teapot down. I didn’t agree to this."

"But...This is a kettle, Tiffany. Not a teapot."

"Oh, shut it!"

Claire gave off such a dejected face that Tiffany, once again, felt like she was kicking a poor puppy to the ground. She held back on going off on a rant.

"But we’re already here and the weather is so nice! It would be such a shame not to use any of this at all..."

Claire looked around, observing this beautiful setting, not to mention, the sun was finally starting to set. Going home right now would be like an insult to the utter beauty of this scene, it almost looked like it came right out of a fairy tale picture book. Without mulling it over any further, Tiffany took a sip out of her cup.

"I’m only doing this because I feel compelled to, got it?"

Claire’s eyes lit up nonetheless.

"Alright! Please try out my cookies too!"

Tiffany contemplated them for a second... is it true that home-made stuff is more healthy? Surely, that’s just a myth, right? A cake from the store and a home-made cake will have about the same amount of sugar in them regardless of who made them and how. Well, she did see Claire share her food from time to time with her friends and while she would never admit it, it is true that she was a bit curious about trying them herself. What was the last time she had eaten anything "home-made"? Or did it ever even happen?

"...Okay, whatever. I bet they taste shitty."

Tiffany reluctantly took a bite... It was surprisingly really delicious!

"It’s bad."

"R-really?"

As much as she wanted to lie about it, she couldn’t after seeing Claire make that dejected face again.

"Uhhh. No, um. Hmm... On second thought, it’s pretty average. It’s okay-ish."

Tiffany really hated herself right now. Being mean has never been this hard before. She couldn’t wait for the moment where they would be done with this ridiculous play-pretend and go back to her room. She tried drinking and eating as fast as she could without making it look like she was in a hurry to run away from this awkward situation. And God, it was so fucking hard...

Unsurprisingly, they were both pretty silent the whole time. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything to converse about or things in common. Right as Tiffany was about to get up and pack up her belongings, for real this time, Claire spoke up. Nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Um. So you know, I have something to confess to you, Tiffany."

Oh God, not now. As much as Tiffany found this timing annoying, she couldn’t help but poke fun at that poor choice of words.

"Confess? Oh my, so you like me in that way, huh? That explains everything."

"Wha- N-no! That’s not it! I mean, realistically speaking, t-that would never even happen!"

Was she implying that she could never like someone like Tiffany? Well, Tiffany herself was the one who brought this up but she was a bit offended at that statement. Regardless though, the way she was trying to deny it so hard was kinda cute. No. Not cute at all! If this went on, Tiffany would really become crazy before the end of this day.

"Last time, you said that I was only being kind towards others to profit off of them and I didn’t say anything but... that wasn’t true at all! I always wanted to help you because I thought that you needed it, I swear. Not to satisfy myself! ... Well. Except maybe..."

"Except...?"

"T-today. I admit that I kind of had ulterior motives."

Now that piqued Tiffany’s curiousness right away. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave as much anymore if it meant that Claire would finally admit that she did some things for her own benefit. Why was it? Did she want to post a picture of herself on Tiffany’s Instaglam to fish for compliments, knowing that she had a lot of followers? Claire hid her face behind her hands and muttered a few words.

"I... wanted you to warm up to me."

"...Huh?"

That’s it? That was it? Claire’s ulterior motive was for Tiffany to "warm up to her."?

"So like, you want us to be friends or some shit?"

"Oh no! Not necessarily that far, just... good acquaintances!"

Is she stupid? There’s no way that she genuinely thinks those "motives" are bad. Tiffany sighed in exasperation.

"Listen. I’m just really tired right now, I don’t have the energy to assimilate all the shit you’re saying. I’m packing all of this up and going back to the dorms."

In complete silence, they gathered all of their belongings and walked to the dorms while keeping a fair distance between the 2 of them. As if to say, "we’ve got nothing to do with each other." Surprisingly, Claire didn’t try anything anymore. Didn’t even wish for a "good night" or a "good evening" which was weird to say the least. Tiffany tried to ignore it and when she got back and unpacked all of the props, she noticed something that didn’t belong to her. One of Claire’s lunch boxes with cookies in them and... a note?

Here’s my number just in case ;3 Please give me my lunchbox back once you’re done eating the cookies!♡

"...Your note makes me wanna barf."

So that’s why she didn’t try anything. That sneaky little... she must've slid that into the basket when they were packing. She already knew that Tiffany would eventually be forced to talk to her again... as if! Who says she’ll return it? She can just throw all the cookies away along with the box... Or so she thought. Tempted, she took a bite, then another one. And another one. Her diet was ruined for sure now. Damn you Claire and your stupidly great cooking skills, as if you needed another skill to be better and more perfect than you already are. Tiffany put the box away, trying to forget the delicious taste and smell. Back to Instaglam she goes. Uploading the picture while adding the "marigold" tag on it. Going through the pictures again, she noticed that some of them had Claire in the corner. She was thinking of deleting them but... well whatever. She can just crop her out later if needed. Her dress looks pretty so it’s fine even if she does appear in the pictures. All we see is a bit of her hair, as long as her face isn’t visible, it’s okay. Yup. It was totally not because Tiffany was slowly starting to feel something towards the girl she was trying so hard not to get involved with.

[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…  

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.  

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?  

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a  bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.  

But you don’t have it.  

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you  and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

[partnersatfazbear]

Updates | Vday Sketches

I thought I’d post an update, so you guys know why I haven’t been posting. It’s nothing really serious, but I’ve been taking some time to spend with my wife before she starts a very long solid week of work with no time off, taking care of the apartment for her, ect.

I’ve had back pain, sciatica pain again as well as nightmares, so my sleep hasn’t been good..

I haven’t had any inspiration for poor William and Henry lately, but it is something I want to get back to. My interests change often, but I don’t want to abandon this ship anytime soon. I would be updating the fic, but I can’t get the middle sorted out. I haven’t sat down to finish Resurrection Seeker, although I’d say the last few chapters are about 50% done. As for the comic, I’ll upload that tomorrow. Out of pure laziness / back pain I haven’t finished coloring the most recent pages, but I’ve been looking forward to specific scenes and I really want to put my all as each page goes, hopefully improving the quality.

You have all been amazing, leaving lots of kudos. I appreciate that. I feel guilty for the lack of updates...

I admit what energy I have had has gone to my game, which still doesn’t have a name. I think I’ve almost worked out a plot I am happy with. I’m going to watch some horror movies today and get some inspiration. I’ve also been watching a lot of RPG Maker horror games (if you haven’t watched FlareBlitz, I highly recommend him... wife made fun of me because she says he sounds like PJ. If FB could read a little smoother, maybe. Nonetheless, FB is great for some relaxing RM content. Sadly, he’s doing a lot of VNs lately and it’s really not my thing.)

Anyway, to actual speak of my game, I’m really trying to figure out my story while mapping, which is probably a mistake, but I’d rather have a realistic house for a map that realistically conforms to the story. Having said that I realize that games like Pocket Mirror and Crooked Man stand out as my favorites and I’d like to include some fantasy elements at some point, but how to make it work with my grounded supernatural settings my work is set in is difficult.

Other random stuff I added to my to-do list is to make a Thousand Arms FNF Mod, but uh, it’s about 20 sprites not counting the death ones [just for the BF] (which I probably will only mildly modify). Then those 15 or so sprites must be copied / lowered a few times each to match the sprite sheet. This project is something very far off my radar, but I wanted to mention it.

So, right now my plans are to finish a chapter of something even if it’s typing up the first chapter of my MichaelxCharlie story, and post it. Second, work out my game’s plot a bit more. I have to establish this story with my 12 book long novels, which isn’t as hard as it sounds since this is near what I call “the end of the timeline” and I am planning with a sequel in mind. So, I want this game to have a lot of vague lore that gets answered in Part 2.

I just hope you can all support me in my game endeavors. I want to finish it by Easter. It’s isn’t my first RM title, but it’s something I would easily love to make a living out of someday.

Oh, and for some FNAF related stuff, we finally tracked down Glamrock Chica’s plush the other day when spending time with a friend. We still haven’t found Frostbear, unfortunetly. I’m going to have to pay scalpers for Chocolate Bonnie and Frostbear, sadly. The next book will come out in a month or so, IIRC? Gumdrop Angel? I don’t know if I’ll have anything to add for that. I also finished the Twisted Ones GN, so I’m out of material to read. Except to find that Google Drive post about the Shadow animatronics and read about them... because I intended to start a YT channel, but I’m too shy. I can’t do it without anyone to bounce my ideas off of and my wife is busy.

I will be taking a haitus between 2/20 and 2-28. My wife has vacation and we also moved our V-Day celebration to then. So, don’t expect too many updates that week, especially early on as we’ll be out of town visiting families.

I think I’ve rambled too much. If you made it this far, thank you..

Edit: Someone on twitter wanted Willry V-Day art. I might try my hand at it so I did some sketches... Springtrap literally giving his heart, Charlotte as flower girl (Henry has a plaid tux and William has bunny accessories), and then a scene from Resurrection Seeker.

[jjaeong]

Color-Correction Post (50 Followers Edition).

(Posting this through my laptop because my phone kept crashing when I change the colors or even link the source?)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is post was created just to put into perspective how I always tweak the colors in each GIF I attach to my fics. I just wanted to share this because it’s honestly satisfying with the end result (and in celebration of 50 followers).

Before I got into this entire GIF in fics thing, I thought that it was cool how there’d always be a GIF attached into what I’d always read on this site—I’ve observed how it somehow made it easier to get into whatever it was you were reading when there was some visualization attached to it (no matter how lightly written the fic is). And I’ve done this “writing template” with the two borders and the gif in the middle—but I don’t consider the fic on my other account as influenced as this account because it was just literally one drabble (if you find it—hmu lmao).

Also, I think I mislead you guys about my last writing account being back in 2014 (but honestly, I don’t remember any other time than my last drabble in the Summer of 2020—I had a lot of things going on since I started attending University).

But that’s a story for another time.

I just like the idea of incorporating the right visuals in my fics because—other than I don’t seem to have anything else to do (lmao)—I just found it easier to write with what I can see with the imagery, and so I thought that it would be cool if my readers would get to experience the same thing and not just in my head, you know? 

Honestly this sounds so taxing and it looks like I’m putting too much effort into it but.. It’s art? This blog is a passion project that had just been brought to life— something we can always come back to when we feel like doing so.

Anyways, here’s the step by step process of making the GIFS.

One. Finding The Right Visualization.

I’m not strict in finding a source, usually I’d be watching loonatv and I’d suddenly be hit by the scene like—oh, that looks like it’ll fit in this idea that I thought about earlier. But what I am strict about is if I can find a better angle (this goes with the fan site sources and etcetera), because it usually starts from “this looks nice” and should end with “okay, it’s time to write about it” but sometimes, sadly it would end with “I don’t feel that great about the plot idea though”.

But for the series stuff (such as The Heiress which is currently ongoing) it’s harder to find more cinematic shots that fit the mood. I try my best on finding a video that would set the foundation of the fic before going ahead and downloading the videos from a separate online video converter.

I also make sure to take note of the dates, the links and specially the channel name or basically the source because if I found the shot pretty and just took it without giving credit—I admire these non-profit(?) fan sites (I love vantablack’s fan cams of Hyunjin the most) so that’s why I started to include sources. Simply appreciating the craft.

Two. Color Correcting By The Fic’s Tone.

The thing that I honestly do not like the most is the fade(?) effect that loonatv adds to their videos, I’ve noticed how they always applied this because it makes the girls somewhat “brighter” but it takes away their more.. Natural colors. The lighting in this shot was bright enough to somewhat strengthen the fading effect that they put—but the thing I keep feeling upset for is that you lose a bit of the natural setting that the girls themselves make brighter.

So if it’s a light fic, a happy one shot like Rest Easy Love, I’ll Always Be Your Favorite Girl, I added a warmer tone to the GIF.

(I think I corrected it some more after recording this on my screen, but you guys get the point lmao sorry).

And when it’s a more darker type of fic, this is an example of how I envision the lighting would be like The Heiress effect (which I applied to this exact GIF just for comparison). That’s all to it when I CC—just keep in mind the vibe of the fic, adjust the lighting and etcetera, and finally add the effects if you have them.

Three. The Cinematic Border And Final Export.

I found it easier to just adjust the video itself under the border to fit it instead of cropping because it really takes so much space when you crop it. You’d barely get a full decent view so I just drag and adjust it. 

After I’ve finished the video, I then export the file and send it to my online archives or via cable to my phone (when I’m in a hurry). The reason why I upload it on a cloud is that sometimes after I edit the video, I tend to burn myself out so I can’t be bothered to turn it instantly into a GIF.

I use my phone to convert the video into a GIF because whenever I use my video editing software it tends to not upload in this site, and after looking for the reason why—turns out you can only upload up to 15MB of your GIF here—I just convert it on my phone because it’s the quickest when it comes to compressing the file.

Then I open my drafts and attach it there along with my borders, and that’s about it.

At this point I think now you guys know why I take my time to post and follow through my chapters (because I like to wait for the inspiration to hit before I start writing, and that I look for clips that will help me visualize better)—but I just want to say that one day we’ll reach a bigger audience, there will be more people expecting quality from this blog and as much as I’d hate to admit it, I am aware that it will take a toll on me.

But that will never stop me from loving these girls because they’ve been nothing but a positive source of happiness from me—I’ve been through so much last year and they somehow made me feel like myself again, and that’s such a big impact in my current situation right now and this is how I want to express myself in loving them.

I want nothing other than to give these girls a positive light in this blog, and though times may be rough we’d still have these Y/N fics to come back to when we feel like we’re not living the Y/N life in reality.

And I know this is a lot of talk for a small following—but someone out there will always read your notes, no matter how silly it will be there will always be a reader that will like your work even if you don’t feel confident in your writing.

Because if your following is the reason you’re writing, then write for them.

If you’re writing for yourself just as I am—do it.

As long as there is passion inside of you, pursue it. Even if it’s just writing Y/N fics while you’re balancing too many things at once.

Stay passionate, that’s all I truly had to say.

You guys are cool.

Laters,

JJ

>ovc: loonatheworld (171212)

https://youtu.be/eUeFUBy40ow

[mysweetgirl2-love]

Livestream~ (corpse_husband x reader)

Alright, I’ve skipped ahead a few prompts because I’ve been just too excited to write out this idea and I was falling behind... so I will be going back, but I’ve skipped to my day 9 prompt. Slight (SLIGHT) exhibition. To reiterate the title, this is a oneshot about you and Corpse. I want to just say that this Corpse is him as a character and not him as a person. Think of a “fanon” version of some sorts. I know that the real Corpse is a very private person (obviously) and I would hate for him to be uncomfortable if he were to ever find this. I am really just writing this for comfort and the enjoyment of others. So, without further ado, enjoy!

Word Count: 5,958

Day 9 - Exhibition (Implied)

“Yo! YO! It’s Corpse! It’s fucking Corpse, holy shit-“

“What? Literally how?”

“I- fucking- I saw you legit go into electrical with pewds, leave, for me to then go up and find his body right next to the vent.”

“He was doing the upload task, I think, cuz’ I left him there when he was alive. You definitely self-reported.”

“Toast, you gotta believe me, it’s fucking Corpse.”

The arguments while playing this game were some of the most frustrating and yet exciting conversations you’d had in ages. Especially when it came down to the final two. That was the jackpot.

“Ah… nah, Fable, you’ve been super sus this entire round. There’s no way you did card swipe that quickly-“

“WHAT?!”

The two dings from your headset indicated that the remaining players had voted which only left you. Since Toast didn’t believe you, Corpse had this round in the bag. God. Damnit.

“Fucking- Fine. Thank god for your detective skills, Toast,” You grumbled bitterly, pouting on camera as you voted for the black avatar. Corpse’s avatar.

“You’re just mad that I figured you out..” The streamer teased, you rolling your eyes in response to his unmatched “knowledge.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally… Corpse is just too fucking good at this game, I swear to god,” You continued, definitely a little irritated that the match turned on you so fast.

It didn’t help when all you could do was helplessly watch from the other side of the screen as your purple avatar launched out into space. Oh well, it was over.

“Heh… I’m just glad you admit it,” The deep voice filled your headphones making you roll your eyes.

The screen suddenly darkened, a red gleam appearing as two characters stood next to one another. Spedicey and, who would’ve guessed, Corpse. Shocking.

“What?!” Toast exclaims.

“I can’t BELIEVE you didn’t think it was him!” Lily speaks up.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Toast,” Felix almost groans, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Seriously…” You comment, smirking slightly at the groan of confusion from the man in question.

“What? Fable, you were so sus that entire round!” Toast stressed, your headphones filling with laughter as you clicked to play again.

“What do you mean?! I Iegit just scanned my card and you’re trying to call me on it! For NO good reason!” You retorted, wanting to facepalm so hard.

“I didn’t think you could do it that fast!” He yelled back, “I thought you were faking it, there was no way!”

“The only one who really struggles with card swipe here is Corpse,“ Jack cut in, you erupting in laughter at his words.

“What?- Uh- Come on, don’t do me like that…” He essentially growled into the mic, your arms erupting with goosebumps at the sound of him once again.

“That’s not true either! Jack, you know how hard card swipe is!” Valkarae stood up for the deep spoken imposter, “…but you guys both won anyway. So, whatever…”

You all simply laughed along with one another at that, the frustration fading as you mentally prepared yourself for another round of this thought-provoking game. Or… so you thought.

“Hey, can we actually hold off for a second? I need to use the bathroom-“ Lily asked, you smiling at how gentle her voice always was.

A stark contrast to the one that followed.

“Yeah, same here. Gamer bladder,” Corpse followed.

You shook your head at the later comment, clearing your throat as before leaning in towards your mic, “So, 5 minute break then?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good!”

“Sure, I’ll just be here.”

Felix, Rae, and Jack responded.

“…Sykunno?” You asked, having not heard his voice in awhile.

“He left to use the bathroom after he finished his tasks in the last round, texted me saying something about getting a snack,” Toast replied for him, you nodding to no one in particular but your chat.

“Got it,” You pressed the mute button for discord and turned to your face cam, “Guess I’ll run to the restroom as well, stay tuned!”

You clicked a few things to allow an ad to run across your stream, labeling it for around four minutes before reaching for your headphones. You placed them on your desk and sighed, leaning back in your chair.

You heard the door in the hallway open, smiling gently to yourself before standing from the chair. You turned towards your own closed door, taking the appropriate amount of steps to open it before peaking around the doorway.

“Hm…” You walked out slightly, turning towards the closed bathroom door and smirking before creeping out of your room and over to his.

Corpse’s room. Your boyfriend.

You and Corpse had started seeing each other a month or two into quarantine during the pandemic. Having known each other a year or two from both of your professions bringing you together under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate.

He was a real-life horror story teller, taking people’s information by email and anonymously telling their tales. You? You told mythologies of all kinds through your own renditions of the stories with art. You also managed to make the stories more light hearted and funny with a few jokes now and then, and people seemed to appreciate the humor you found in some of the topics.

Your channel name had always been Fantasized Fables, a little odd but it got your content across. Since your channel hit, your name was no secret but people liked calling you Fable.

You honestly thought it made you sound a lot more badass than you actually were.

Either way, somehow you got connect through a couple of friends and instantly clicked. Corpse was… well, Corpse. You didn’t know that you’d helped him so much when he actually told you what was going on. The endless nights where you would both be up at an ungodly hour and just dm-ing one another. It started after a few nights you both saw each other online, quickly progressing into something much bigger than that.

It got deep all the time. You both had so many thoughts about life and each other’s and your own… you felt so safe when telling this faceless internet friend all your deepest, darkest thoughts. But, you knew Corpse had more. He always told you more, you almost wanted more to comfort him over. The feelings started to fester and grow… there was no stopping how you felt about him.

The day you two actually met was never going to be forgotten, by either of you. It was unintentional, almost straight from a movie. You had, at this point, exchanged contact information and had been now calling for the majority of May. Not to mention, you both found out you lived in SoCal, only progressing  On this particular afternoon, you texted him that you were going on a coffee run to Starbucks… him saying he was going out for the first time as well.

Masked up and muffled, you of course could tell it was his voice from across the street. The slightly amplified “oh fuck” was the biggest giveaway you could’ve imagined. Your eyes looking up to find a man, dressed in complete black, chains and earrings, shaggy black hair- there was so doubt in your mind.

You called his name, his eyes looking up to find yours across the way… traffic laws weren’t going to stop the saint up to him and into his arms. A big, long, well-deserved embraced you knew the both of you needed. He had always been so kind… and gentle… him being physically there was just so… relieving.

The rest is history, and you honestly moved into his apartment as quickly as you could. You couldn’t stand him living alone like that anymore, and he obviously let you in without a second thought.

You both were extremely happy to have each other, and it just kept getting better from there.

You gently shut the door behind you, creeping over to his setup and sliding into his chair, humming softly as you watched the endless chat messages buildup along the screen and peering at the number of viewers he had now achieved.

JEEEZUS christ, 200k?! That’s insane! You thought, widening your eyes at the number on the screen.

Your streams only ever reached 90k, which was a lot more than you had expected. The number was slowly growing now, though… ever since Corpse blew up on tiktok for just posting videos of his hands.

Wild.

You clicked through a few comments, watching super comments flash along the chat as well as mods trying to attempt to get slow chat to work. You couldn’t help but slightly laugh at the struggle, turning back towards the game as a few of the avatars began bouncing around with one another. People were getting back to the game.

You were about to shift around in his seat, reaching for the keyboard to type something in game when two larger hands came gently down on your shoulders. They pushed you gently down against the chair, causing it to lean back with your body. A face moved next to your ear, lips grazing against the skin.

“Whattup Baby?~” That low voice growled, you gently flinching at the rumbling next to your ear.

You turned to find Corpse grinning down at you, his hands easing up off your body and reaching for your face. His right hand came in contact with your cheek, gently squeezing against it as he slowly walked around the chair and crouched down. To be right beneath your eye level.

“Hi..” You hummed, leaning over to press your lips against his forehead before leaning back to look in his maroon-like eyes.

“Why’re you in my chair? You need to get back to your own stream, silly~” He hummed, beginning to stand as he reached for your arm to pull you out of the chair.

You grinned, your head falling back begrudgingly as he easily pulled you from the comfortable seat.

“Wait…! I just wanted to see you…” You lightly whined, him chuckling in response as you stood on your two feet. Him replacing the spot where you had sat.

“Uhuh… and why’s that?” He teased lightly, you couldn’t help but scoff gently while your heart rate increased. He always had that effect on you.

“Well, I mean… I wanted to both congratulate and bother you about your… fucking imposter round-“ He erupted in laughter, you grinning along with him with a simple eye roll, “hey! Let me finish, it was a good round, I’ll give you that… but you threw me under the bus while doing it…! For no reason!”

He raised his brow lightly, his laughter coming to a soft chuckle as he shrugged, “I mean, I gotta keep my title as ‘too fucking good at imposter.’ Sorry, princess…”

You playfully glared in his direction, a stupid smirk spreading across his face. Your lower lip jutted out from your upper one, crossing your arms as you simply pouted in response. He huffed in response, his smirk turning to more of a smile as he reached back out for you.

“C’mere…” He grumbled, his hand grabbing your arm as he pulled you back down to the chair.

“Wait- Ah!” You almost fell against him, barely able to catch yourself against the arm rests on his chair. You looked up, slightly panicked from the sudden fall, to find Corpse smirking right back.

“Wait for what? You’re not ready for affection?” He asked softly, his hand reaching up to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“N-No, that’s not it…” You mumbled, letting your gaze fall to his chest, seeing the definition of his body through his baggy sweater.

You felt fingers press against the underside of your chin, pushing your face up to look back towards him. You felt your face flush in embarrassment, smiling nervously as his smirk had never faltered.

“You don’t look very sure of yourself…” he whispered to you.

You gently bit at the inside cheek, shrugging quickly, “C-Cuz’ I’m not…”

He chuckled deeply, leaning in slightly as he grabbed you by the lips, gently humming against your mouth as his hands gripped your sides.

You whimpered softly against him, beginning to kiss back as you readjusted yourself in his lap. You quietly wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as you leaned against him.

He chuckled softly, moving his lips against yours as his hands gently slipped up beneath the sides of your shirt and lovingly stroked at your now exposed skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered against you, catching your lips quickly as he continued, “You’re too perfect, fuck… too fucking perfect…”

“Corpse, I-..” You kissed him again, one of your hands reaching up towards his head as you tangled your fingers into the back of his hair.

He hummed against your mouth, squeezing your sides gently as his smily broke out into a grin. The tip of his nose pressed against yours as he sighed, “Yes, princess?~”

“Careful, we need to get back to the game…” You whispered, growing a little nervous as he chuckled.

“They can wait…” He sighed, leaning back in to press his lips back to yours, kissing you deeply once again.

You squeaked lightly, timid as ever before you kissed back. You felt his teeth grazing against your lower lip, gently nipping at the skin. You couldn’t help but slightly moan, pulling away from your lips as he trailed light kisses down your chin and along your jaw.

He was going for your neck, getting there before you could express any protest. You sighed loudly as his lips connected to the skin right below your ear, gently growling against you as you felt a slight wet sensation lick against your earlobe. You shivered, the side of your face falling to the top of his head as he continued his attack on your neck.

“Fuck, Corpse~”

“God, you sound so beautiful baby… you keep acting like this and after the stream? I’ll have no choice but to-“

The desk behind you started vibrating in loud, long buzzes. Both of you freezing in your spots as you turned over your shoulder to find Corpse’s phone lighting up with a phone call.

You quirked your brow, “Who’d be calling you this early in the morning?”

It was 12 pm, you both had woken up at 10 am to actually get ready in time to stream. It wasn’t early for the world, but it was early for this apartment.

“I don’t know… weird,” He leaned forward in his chair, you holding tight against his chest as he grabbed the phone and brought it towards the two of you.

You both looked down at the contact name on the screen, your eyes widening at the name that read.

“Why- hm…” Corpse quickly swiped to answer the call, holding the speaker up to his ear, “Hey Rae, everything okay-“

He stopped suddenly mid sentence, his eyes widening as his cheeks lit up in a bright red. It had to have been the most embarrassed you’d ever seen him, his eyes falling to yours as you read the panic within them.

“R-Right- shit… s-sorry- I-I’ll turn it down now… bye,“ He quickly brought the phone away, immediately hanging up as his eyes flashed towards the chat function on his stream.

“Is… Is everything okay…?” You asked hesitantly, leaning over slightly to read for yourself what people had to say. Did something happen in chat while you guys were preoccupied?

Corpse didn’t respond, his eyes just scanned what the letters read on screen. You frowned, you confusion growing by the second. He hit a button on the keyboard, did he just unmute?

A strained laugh left his mouth, falling back in the chair with you still in his arms. His eyes found yours, his lips slowly turning to a grin before he laughed one of the hardest laughs you had yet to hear from him.

Your eyes widened, completely baffled at this point.

“Corpse, please- What happened?”

“We- We- AHA! We were unmuted!! That ENTIRE time!” He cackled, his hand landing on his chest to almost support him in some way.

You, on the other hand, went from complete befuddlement to absolute humiliation. There was no way THAT was just heard by hundreds upon thousands of people. No fucking way.

“Wh-What??” You began to panic, reaching for his broad shoulders and gently holding onto them, “Wh-What are you even t-talking about?!”

He gently gripped onto you in return, readjusting you against him as he held you there. His laughter died down before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your nose.

You both were open that you were in a relationship, people knew… but, that doesn’t mean you necessarily wanted them to hear..

“Hey, baby, don’t worry… it could’ve been a lot worse… We’re fine~” he reassured, your brow still tensed from your worry. You knew the worst had already happened when he blew up, but how would they use his voice in that kind of tone…

You didn’t want to think about it too much. Not jealous, more just… weirded out. Who knew how people would use your voice in that tone either? You didn’t dwell on it.

“Ah, o-okay… yeah, nothing we need to worry about now,” You nodded with him, his gentle features turning to a warm smile. He brought his hand up to your cheek, his thumb gently swiping across your skin as he hummed.

“Mhm, all is fine… I promise,” He mumbled to you, leaning in softly to press his lips back against your forehead.

You sighed, pausing against him for a moment before leaning away, “Well… p-probably shouldn’t keep them waiting m-much longer…”

Corpse raised his brow gently smiling sadly in agreement with a slight nod. He gently reached for your hips once again, holding them gently as he helped hoist you back onto your two feet. You yelped softly as you let yourself be lifted, extending your two legs to meet the floor.

You stood still for a moment, your eyes meeting his as you timidly smiled, “S-Sorry about the mic thing… I should’ve stayed in my stream.”

You nervously laughed, his smile never faltering as yours broke out into a grin. Your slight guilt written all over your features.

“No, no, you’re totally fine… don’t apologize,” He hummed, his thumbs gently pressing against your hips as he kept reassuring.

“Okay, haha… now we’ll never forget to check our mics,” You winked softly, your hands grabbing onto his larger ones and squeezing them gently in return.

“Haha… never,” He nodded softly, tilting his head gently to the side as he simply watched you.

You sighed, begrudgingly pulling his hands from your hips as you took a small step away. You gently bounced on the balls of your feet, awkwardly putting your hands together behind your back.

“Hm… well! I- uh… will see you in game…” You smiled, his body turning in his chair as he leaned his chin against two of his fingers that you had freshly reapplied black nail polish that night before.

His brow raised quizzically at you, the damn smirk playing at his lips once again. His fingers flexed slightly, his hands following the motion. You could see the veins running down his wrist from where you stood.

He briefly chuckled, “Yeah… I’ll see you there, baby…”

With that, he turned back towards his screen while you didn’t hesitate towards the door. You walked over and grabbed the handle, briefly turning back to the darkened man on the screen, clicking away at the bursts of notifications he was getting from discord.

Oops.

“I love you-“ You flushed, his eyes pulling away from his screen to find you in the doorway. You could see the tint of pink along his cheeks in the darkness of the room.

“…I love you too. Hurry though, Rae is flipping out-“ He laughed, you not wasting a second more to close the door and bound back over to your recording room.

You shut the door behind you, looking up towards your brightened monitor and feeling your breath catch in your chest. You could see your chat blowing up from here, your phone lighting up with MULTIPLE notifications… God, what an unfortunate mistake for Corpse to have made.

You quicken your pace back to your chair, sliding in and putting your headphones back atop of your head. Your camera had come back on in the time you were gone, giving the device a nervous grin before turning towards the game.

“S-Sorry guys, didn’t mean to take that long- uhm…” Your eyes scanned over the chat, not surprised to find it full of caps-locked comments screaming about what happened on Corpse’s stream.

You sighed nervously, your eyes now finding your discord application notifying you that you had… almost fifty notifications?! You mentally had to roll your eyes, quickly turning back towards the camera with a sheepish smile.

“I- uh… I have to go for another minute- B-Be right back!” You laughed, turning on another ad before mentally cursing at yourself. God damnit- your eyes scanned over the viewers on your stream.

What the shit- when did I get 30k viewers?! What the hell?! Of course this is when your viewers decide to spike.

You groaned to yourself, your head falling to your hand as the other reached for your mouse. You clicked to your discord, slowly… but surely, un-deafened your mic.

“OH. MY. GOD. You FUCKING dumbass!” Rae yelled as soon as you unmuted, flinching at the pitch to her tone. It felt like you were being scolded.

“What?! I can’t show my girlfriend some love?!” Corpse replied, not yelling but a definite inflection in his tone.

“No! Nothing wrong with that! But CHECK your MIC next time!!” She laughed loudly. Oh my god.

“Jesus Christ, dude… or at least lower the sensitivity significantly…” Jack spoke up, almost sounding disappointed.

“Ey, welcome back, Fable-“ Felix spoke up, the cheeky grin evident in his tone.

What a fucking asshole-

“FABLE!”

“Oh my god-“

“You guys can’t wait til after stream?!”

“Wait, what am I joining into…?” A new voice intervened, interrupting Rae, Toast, and Lily.

Charlie, what a man, coming in at the worst time.

“H-Hey Charlie…” You spoke up in a greeting.

“Wha- Wait! Answer the question, Fable!” Lily squealed, a groan leaving your mouth as you fell towards your mic.

“I’m sorry! I-I really didn’t mean for it to happen! I had no clue-“

“Yeah, wait, this isn’t on Fable. She just went to go visit Corpse in the other room, guys, chill…” Felix actually stuck up for you, your face lifting in surprise as his words.

“Uh- yeah, actually, I guess that’s fair,” Jack commented, you nervously laughing in response.

“I… am so sorry to all of you,” You apologized softly, a gentle chorus of laughs following your meek apology.

“No, no, no, you’re so fine. You guys weren’t trying to broadcast whatever… that was…” Sykunno hummed awkwardly, you laughing lightly at his uncertainty.

“It was a poor mistake on my part, I’m sorry, Fable…” Corpse spoke up, you grinning at the sound of his voice.

“N-No worries… hey, we already went over this in person. Can we get back to the game?” You grumbled, another fit of laughter through the group at your excusing of the situation.

“Ahaha, yeah let’s get back into it,” Toast replied, the sound of his mouse clicking lightly being heard in the call.

You sighed, deafening yourself once again and turning back on your stream, “Hey everyone, yep… yep, everything’s fine. No worries, I promise, haha. We took a break for a little longer than expected, but we’re back!”

You un-deafened and were met with sound of a very very confused Charlie, “Wait… so… no one’s going to explain to me what happened?”

You all erupted into loud laughter, you falling back slightly in your chair as you cackled. The first voice to come back was Rae, shockingly.

“Don’t worry, Charlie… we’ll tell you later,” She snickered, you laughing along as you came back to your keyboard.

“So… we can start now, though?” Toast spoke up once again.

You began to give confirmations of “yes” with soft ‘yeah’s and ‘mhm’s. Lazy, but it got the point across.

“Cool, starting the next round…” He clicked play again and the countdown began.

“Alright, everyone, remember to MUTE your mics!” Jack spoke up, you rolling your eyes in response as Corpse’s laugh raised above the rest.

“Will do. Thanks,” He chuckled, a louder laugh sounding through the call once again from all mics.

Your screen turned dark, the red avatar of the Among Us character moving to shush you from the screen. You sighed, watching it turn dark again.

“Yeah- yeah, you’re welcome!” Jack played along, grinning softly at the joke as the screen began lighting up once against.

Your screen displayed your avatar next to Corpse’s, the bright red letters of “Imposter” reading across the computer. You raised your eyebrows, making sure you were completely muted on call before chuckling.

“Oh… Hell yeah. Let’s go…”

[undertalethingies]

Self Indulgent Self Insert Fanfic, Part One

I am sitting in my room, not doing much of anything, (as per usual) when I look up and notice that my mirror has apparently transformed into a solid wall of inky darkness as I’ve been spacing out.

And well- it’s not like I can not poke it, right? There’s a high chance I’ll seriously regret it, if my life has become the isekai it appears to be, but there’s a 100% chance I’ll regret it forever if I don’t touch it, you know?

Everyone always assumes I’m risk averse, that I like to play it safe, but the truth of the matter is I’ve just never found something I really want to take a risk with.

So, I push myself out of bed with a hand and go grab my shoes, because there’s no way in hell I’m touching something that might be a portal with no shoes on. Thankfully, I’m actually dressed for once, rather than being in my bathrobe like usual. 

Once I’ve got my shoes on, I grab my coat from where it hangs by my dresser and walk straight into what used to be my mirror. I hope my parents aren’t too worried by my disappearance. Maybe I’ll be lucky and this will be the kind of isekai that retroactively erases me from existence? That would be kind of nice, to exist without tethers.

The portal (because that’s what it is, I’m pretty sure) feels cool, but not unpleasantly so. Like when you first put on a fleece sweater and it takes a moment to warm up.

If this were a stereotypical isekai story, things would quickly become very unpleasant in this dark void, and some godlike being would reach out to grant me power beyond my wildest imaginings.

I’ve never been one to cave to expectations, though. Not even my own.

The darkness remains cool and comforting, and I continue walking forward because there’s no chance I’m going to turn back now, with so much possibility awaiting me if I only continue long enough.

Eventually, I feel as if I’ve passed some threshold, and something definably changes within me. Can’t say what, though. I’ve always kinda sucked at interpreting what my body is trying to tell me, so I’ll probably have to figure it out on my own.

At some point the darkness and walking grows boring, and so I do what I often do when bored, and curl up to go to sleep. This place isn’t cold enough for me to need a blanket, and I’ve got my coat with me anyway, so I’m fine. Sleeping on hard surfaces isn’t unpleasant, in my opinion, merely a bit annoying, since if you pick the wrong position you’ll inevitably wake up sore.

As always, consciousness takes a while to fade, so I occupy myself with grand imaginings about all the wonderful (and terrible, I’ve got anxiety okay, I can’t help it) things that might await me.

==

When I wake, it’s immediately obvious that something is different. There’s light now, for one, and for two I can feel something soft and organic beneath me. Judging by smell alone… Flowers? Waking up on a bed of flowers in a lit room… Well, I’ve always wished I could live in Undertale, if only so I could chew out the characters for bottling up their feelings so damn much. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, that one headcanon I have about Sans secretly being a teenager will be right and I’ll be able to flirt with him without it being creepy.

Oh come on, like everyone attracted to dudes and not overly hung up about species concerns doesn’t want to kiss that guy, are you kidding me? Plus, I love puns and I’m depressed, surely we’ll get along.

Oh boy, I’m definitely going to die, huh? Thank fuck for my high pain tolerance and ridiculous resistance to trauma, am I right?

Finally, I open my eyes, because I like to wake up slow and I see no reason to alter my existing routine simply because I’ve apparently been yeeted into my favorite video game. Hey, speaking of favorite video games, will I get to visit Hollow Knight next? No, wait, that would probably suck, wouldn’t it. Ah, well.

The cave is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. Though it looked lovely in the game art, there’s truly nothing that can compare to seeing the sight in person, those marble pillars in a half circle around me, that single spot of sunlight in the ceiling far (far, far) above. Not to mention the lovely flowers I’m laying on at this very moment and- there’s a dead body under me, isn’t there. Is Chara going to show up, or am I left to be alone in my head?

Though their narration doesn’t actually start until you meet Flowey, in the game, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Which human soul am I taking the place of right now? Because I read a fic once where the protagonist wasn’t the seventh, even if it was a fakeout, and I very much do not want to be saddled with the fate of those poor bastards.

Though, maybe I’d be able to talk my way out? There’s no one who’d call me diplomatic, for sure, but I’m pretty great at knowing exactly where to aim an insult to utterly break someone’s spirit. (Unusual skill, I’m aware, but in my defense I was bullied growing up)(I say “growing up” like I’m not still doing it, like I’m not fourteen and trapped in a world where it’s an accepted fact that the protagonist will die, and several times over, too)

My first order of business is Flowey, before I can take the time to freak out, to hold myself tight and weather the sheer panic that Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore.

I get up. I give a last fond look to the beautiful cave I’ve “fallen” into, and I walk to the next room, hoping all the while that I’m not signing my own death sentence.

Once I’m a few feet in, there he is, in all his fucking glory.

Flowey the flower, the soulless remnant of prince Asriel Dreemurr, former hope of the underground, possibly still holder of the ability to control time itself.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to mess with him. Self preservation is for losers.

“You’re a flower with a face,” I say before he can start with his usual greeting. I have it memorized anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.

He makes his T-T face, so I know this isn’t how he thought this would go. 

“Wow, human! What gave you that impression?” Ooh, sassy. Literally his only positive trait.

“Well I have eyes, see,” I was planning  to ask him probing questions, but honestly this is just as good. His expression doesn’t change as he says his next sentence, nor does his ever cheery tone, (and holy fuck his voice is just as vaguely creepy as I’d imagined, all that childlike innocence paired with the fact that he’s a mass murderer)

“Well howdy, human with eyes! I’m Flowey, flowey the flower!” He says. I don’t interject.

“You’re clearly new to the underground, and it looks like I’m the only one around to show you how things work around here! Are you ready?” 

…

“I’m really not, to be honest. I’ve got no idea what’s going on,” So my plan here, basically, is to stall until Toriel gets here. Mostly because I’m hoping that if he doesn’t get the chance to do his betrayal, he’ll keep pretending to be nice, which will be hilarious since I’ll know he’s faking the whole time.

Admittedly, this significantly increases the likelihood that Toriel won’t come to save me when he inevitably finds a secluded place to murder me, but if I think too hard about the long term right now I’m going to scream, so.

“Well you see, human, you’ve fallen into the underground, a land inhabited by monsters! Don’t worry though, we’re quite nice,” Oh right, conversation. I wonder how much info I can get out of him…

“What’s a monster? Like, I know what it means on the surface, but that definition is pretty vague, and I don’t want to be accidentally racist,” 

His face pops back to the usual smile. (Side note: his face looks like it was drawn on with sharpie and it’s totally messing me up)

“A monster is a being made of magic!” Ok, that’s… a bit vague, but not really inaccurate. I guess he doesn’t want to get into the science, which is a damn shame, since he probably knows it backwards and forwards due to all his reset shenanigans.

“Woah, cool. Magic is real? How does it work without breaking thermodynamics?” Finally, the question I’ve always wanted to ask. If energy can’t be created, how the fuck does Toriel shoot fireballs from her hands? What is she drawing on, what is the fire burning, how hot is it, how does it keep being on fire, etc. etc. repeat for every magical display in the game.

“Well, a lot of it isn’t super understood. Scientists have mostly been pinning it on ‘dark energy’ like they do with every other phenomenon they don’t totally understand,” I wonder why he’s so willingly entertaining my time wasting antics. I know, in game, he didn’t realize he’d lost control over the timeline until after his first talk with Frisk, so maybe he’s just waiting it out to see where it goes? And then of course he must be planning other things to do with me before he takes my soul and goes to the surface…

“God, I hate dark energy in science. I know they just call it that because not much is known about it, but I’m thirsty for knowledge, you know?” Actually ‘thirsty for knowledge’ describes my mood like 90% of the time. Huh, actually, I have that in common with Flowey, right? Even if his knowledge thirst is just due to boredom.

“Hey, human, me too! Learning new things is great!” There’s a loaded sentence if i’ve ever heard one. When was the last time he learned something new? He’s supposedly read every book in the underground, but how much information from that did he actually retain?

“Isn’t it? It’s why I love Youtube so much. Free information for anyone who cares to make a few clicks!” Wait, he probably doesn’t know what Youtube is, actually.

“What’s Youtube?” He asks, cocking his head.

“It’s a service where you can upload videos or watch videos other people have uploaded,” Not the most nuanced explanation, but it’ll do for now. Before Flowey has a chance to respond, a fireball manifests next to him. 

I don’t smile because I’m pretending to be shocked, but I’m laughing my ass off on the inside. The face he makes is even more ridiculous in person.

Enter Toriel, queen of the monsters, mother of no living children.

[chriscdcase95]

Why people like Luaggie and odd couples

The following is based off my opinions and observations.

This is the only gif I could find of them by the way. I haven’t figured out how to upload pictures from desktop.

So I haven’t really been vocal about being a Loud House fan on here, mainly because I want to avoid (often manufactured) fandom drama that often comes up in my circle of friends and acquaintances; but some of the few discussions I’m willing to engage in these the fandom are shipping’s and alleged shipping wars. Shipping’s are a funny thing - they are a small thing all things considered, and yet people make these big deals about them as if they are the center of the fandom as a whole.

Because this is Luaggie Week in The Loud House fandom at the time I am writing this, I decided to use Luaggie, and other Loud House" ships - both canon or non canon, and both romantic and non romantic - as examples. But Luaggie is the primary example here.

“So what is Luaggie ?” It is a popular non canonical ship in the Loud House fandom, and is a good example of a “Fanfic Ship” - This means a ship that can only work in fanfiction and is very, very, very unlikely to work in canon. And why is that ? Because Luan has a canonical lover interest in Benny and in the actual show Maggie only appears in one episode, and doesn’t remotely interact with Luan in the actual episode. Maggie’s mother appears in the show more than Maggie herself, and that is as a background character. 

This is because Maggie is an Ensemble Darkhorse, which TV Tropes defines as “A secondary or minor character in a work who becomes popular among the works fandom”. What Maggie made popular ? Arguably because she was a teenage version of Haiku (an Ensemble Darkhorse in her own right) or was an emo girl who was the opposite of Luan in terms of personality, but close to her age that it would be believable they’d know eachother. From such, fanfics and/or fan art did one or two things to Maggie; they either pair her up with Luan, or more rarely make Maggie a big sister to Haiku. It should be noted that Maggie is hardly the only example of the Ensemble Darkhorse trope in the Loud House, and is hardly the only secondary/minor character to be shipped with one of the main characters.

“So what makes Luaggie so special ?” Nothing canonically, there’s two short and simple answers to this; some fans write fanfics and art, in turn other fans grew to like them. And so Luaggie spread, but what made them appeal ? Others answer with “opposites attract”; Luan is a clown girl for lack of a better word, and Maggie is a near stoic goth. But my answer is a little more lenient and applicable to other ships both in and out of The Loud House; canon or romantic or no. This is a little something called the Odd Couple and the appeals to these couples are not what they have in common, but what they don’t. They have differences that can play off eachother, and I think that’s what people like to see in polar opposite relationships. This dynamic is also applicable to non romantic relationships and family bonds.

And to demonstrate this, I present to you Loud House examples. The biggest familial and platonic example of this in the Loud House can be seen in Lola and Lana’s dynamic; as twins they are arguably the closest pair of sisters among the Loud siblings, and yet their entire characters revolve around how they are polar opposites of eachother. And for a romantic example, there was Lucy having a crush on Rocky, despite them being seeming opposites with Lucy being a total goth and Rocky…pretty much being your average nerdish kid. Other canon or non canon relationships apply to this dynamic; Lynn and Clyde -or Clynn- are a popular non canon pairing (a jock girl with a nerdish boy); Lincoln and Ronnie Anne - Ronnincoln - is considered one of the biggest pairings in the fandom and it also somewhat falls into the same category of a tough girl and not so nerdish boy. I bring these up because these “Tough Girl and Nerd Guy” kind of relationships have a special appeal to me for some reason. Both Lincoln and Clyde are also popularly paired up with Haiku, which can fall under the same category as Lucy and Rocky above.

Why is contrasting characters appealing to fans ? Because pairing someone up with someone who is the exact same as they are can get boring, if there is nothing to play off with. Let’s take the episode L is For Love for example; besides Benny, Sam, and Chaz, the love interests introduced for the sisters in this episode are basically male, two dimensional, carbon copies of the sisters that serve as plot devices to segway into the reveal that Luna is Bi; Sam was initially popular because she was a confirmed love interest for a major female character, and even then the episode where they go on a date has a plot about what they don’t have in common, which saves Sam from being a total copy cat of Luna; Chaz became popular because he was (physically at least) the opposite of Leni; Benny was initially popular because he wasn’t Maggie (more on that below) and even in his and Luan’s spotlight episode we see a slight difference between them in that Benny was more of a theatre lover than Luan, who was more of a comedian.

It should go without saying contrasts don’t always work for compelling positive relationships. Many of fictions greatest rivalries stem from how two rivals contrast eachother.

But didn’t Luaggie start a fan war ? Hardly. There was a pretty one sided fan war going on around the time Stage Plight aired. Because this was Luan and Benny’s episode, fans of them - Lunny’s -were getting all hyped that their ship was going to be made official, and spent a good amount of their time bragging about it to Luaggie fans. Now as I mentioned above one of the reasons why Benny became popular with fans in the first place was because he was a Luan love interest that wasn’t Maggie, and Luaggie detractors tend to hate it with a burning passion. Now I can see where they are coming from, considering Luaggie’s popularity in fanfics and art, and some fans have a problem when it comes to compartmentalizing fanon and canon. It gotten to the point that when Luaggie art used to get shared, Lunny fan’s would get all up and arms about how Benny was Luan’s love interest. What people call ship policing.

Trust me, I can understand their frustrations I’ve been on the receiving end of such things, so I can certainly put myself in their shoes, albeit with different ships. 

Anyways, Stage Plight airs and Luan and Benny are an official couple. Did Luaggie’s complain ? Cry ? Leave the fandom ? Have a total social media meltdown ? No. For the most part, Luaggie’s I’ve seen and talked too generally took the episode in stride, said they liked the episode and went on with their lives. The episode certainly didn’t stop Luaggie fan works from being made, as the Lunny fans predicted. Because Luaggie was always a fanfic based ship, and I don’t think anyone seriously thought or expected them to be an actual couple in the show. Lunny fans on the other hand spent their time showboating and singing sweet victories over the “defeat” of the Luaggie fans, celebrating a war they made up in their own hands.

I have seen some go as far as to say Luaggie is a toxic ship, which I don’t see. I think people have different ideas over what a toxic ship is. A friend and I talked about two different ideas of what a toxic ship is; to him a toxic relationship was reflected by their fans and bullying behaviour they do in the name of their ship; to me a toxic ship would be a relationship that promotes or romanticizes abusive ideals such as rape, incest, pedophilia, victimization, etc. As such I don’t see how Luaggie falls into that category - although a non Loud House ship called Jemma from Every Witch Way, might fall into that category, but that an analytical rant for another day.

That being said, it does bring to mind the concept of Ship Policing, which means telling people who they are allowed to ship or not to ship and bullying others over them. Again, I think this might have to do with a failure to differentiate between popular fanon and canon, and I have been on the receiving end of this so I gotta vent.

Stress Induced Rant incoming 

I once got into a shipping debate earlier this year regarding two non Loud House related ships in a Facebook group I’m in where the non canon Kigo ship of the Kim Possible fandom was brought up. I mentioned that Kigo didn’t really appeal to me due to re-watching the show and coming to the conclusion that Kigo would be canonically problematic, and their canon pairings (Kim x Ron, and Drakken x Shego) grew on me. At no point did I say Kigo doesn’t work as a fanfic couple, but canon wise, I saw too many problems that goes against Kigo’s favour in comparison to their canon boyfriends.

I am going to use this as an example of what shipping police are and how not to debate other fans. So when I mentioned I wasn’t into Kigo in comparison to KiRon and Drakgo, this one Kigo fan went ballistic and kept badgering me.  So I explain myself, answer all her questions, and bring up some of my points and reasonings. In turn, she answers my points with Double Standards and Non Sequiturs; either dodging my questions or saying my answers don’t apply when they don’t go against her arguments. She then resorts to using fanfics as “proof” that Kigo would work in canon, and when that fails she starts making Ad Hominem attacks and personal insults - notably calling me retarded when my autism was briefly mentioned in the discussion - and went on about it well past midnight. Rule of thumb, when you resort to personal insults and attacking someone over an opinion that won’t budge, you kind of forfeit your argument. Luckily, this was only one Kigo fan, who doesn’t represent its fandom as a whole

Venting over.

Like I mentioned, ships are a funny - they actually mean very little in the grand scheme of things, but to fandoms, they are the center of the world.

I should also say there a third or fourth reason non canon ships become popular; a lot of fans either take note on onscreen chemistry a paring may have, or project some where there is none, and that is because fans tend to project themselves or their ideas onto characters they like, including what their ideal relationships would be like. It’s hardly exclusive to The Loud House fandom. Me for example, in stories I wrote but never posted, I paired a young adult version of Steven Lloyd from the Halloween series and Edith Sawyer from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series; I design them to have an obvious contrast between them and show how it would play off between the two, but these are two characters that never met in canon (especially since the two series never crossover). Had I wrote a legitimate Halloween/Texas Chainsaw crossover, chances are I’d implement that pairing into the story.

As far as Luaggie goes, I don’t see it as any different than another Leather and Lace relationship applied to fanfiction and fan art. What’s my opinion of them ? Really that depends on the fic or the artwork. I’m not gonna delude myself into thinking it’s gonna become canon or have some power over canon. Nor do I think it’s worth getting all hyped and excited for a non existant ship war.