#at least i remember reading about it once

[musingsofheaven]

DREAMSTATE TRAP

summary: You don’t know what’s wrong with you and don’t even remember how it started. You just know you sleep better when he’s near. That your body wants him close, that you need him there, pressed up against you. You said you’d leave him. More than once. But you didn’t, not when he made sure you will always come back to his arms.

pairings: divorced dilf!art donaldson x afab!reader

warnings: 2k words. mature themes. somnophilia. nonconsensual undertones. obsession. manipulation. covert drug use (nicotine patches / chemical dependency). emotional dependency. breeding kink. free use referenced. sleep sex. dubcon-adjacent tone. power imbalance. dumbification (sleep-drunk, emotionally conditioned, mentally pliant state). read & consume responsibly.

notes: actually scared to post this. :( but hi! this is post-divorce art donaldson and yeah… he’s rich. lonely. washed. pushing 40. still hot. still got those sad little eyes. i just know he’d lose his mind if a pretty lil thing started sleeping in his bed. so soft. so warm. he didn’t want to be left ever again. he’d do anything to keep you close. even if it’s twisted. even if it’s wrong. this is manipulative dilf art dick. he’s emotionally unavailable and physically unavoidable. yes it’s wrong. yes he’s crazy. ANYWAYYYYYYY enjoy and if u want more fics or have requests or want to throw something unhinged at me pls do. i’m taking requests. thanks love u 💗

You sleep like you trust him.

You do. That’s the case. You sleep like you will be comfortable in your dreams because he’s just beside you to hug you. Like your body’s never been hurt. He doesn’t hurt you. Never. He will kill himself first before he lands a hand on you. (Unless it’s for sex and you asked it, or not, maybe) Like no one’s ever lied to you or walked away. You know he’s not lying to you. At least in front of your face, no. Like you don’t know what he is. You don’t, honestly.

He likes staying up late than you. You never knew why. He just said he’s not tired. Or he can’t sleep. Insomnia, sometimes, is what he’s saying to you. But in reality? He likes watching you. Like tonight is the same as the others, he watches you wide-eyed in the dark.

The sheets are already wrapped around you from the movements. You are not a mover, but don’t stay in the same place. Your cotton sleep shirt riding high over your ass, too big for you, too comfy, the collar pulled half off your shoulder like it always ends up that way. You didn’t even wear panties tonight. You never do when you fall asleep in his bed. It’s comfortable, you say. More air or your cunt can breathe, or whatever bullshit you say. Art doesn’t mind. It’s a raging go signal for him. Well, that’s what he thinks. He could lift your shirt, nightgown, or whatever loose or comfortable you are wearing, and he’ll cup you over it, sometimes rub his fingers if he’s aiming for tame, or slide in if he’s so horny. You don’t complain. Said that it helps him sleep by touching you or fucking you. And you like to help him.

That used to scare him. That sweetness. That trust. Especially when you’re just letting him take it. He even joked about you being his free use doll when he was inside of you. You whine and giggle. It scared and excited him. The idea that maybe you didn’t think he was capable of anything ugly.

Well, at first, he’s like that. But now? It doesn’t scare him anymore.

His fingers gently run into the back of your hair, and he watches you shift. He makes those little expressions when you sleep. You look soft. You look like you are at peace. Your skin’s so warm there. Your pulse flutters when he presses. It’s slow, steady, alive.

Sometimes, he’s praying to God because you’re so alive. So young than him. He prayed that others wouldn’t take you away from him. The thing is, he won’t even let them do that. You’ve got no idea what kind of things a man like him can do, do you?

He slips the drawer open quietly while his other hand is still touching you like he’s scared to slip his hand away from you.

Finds the little box. Peels one patch from the back.

Your thigh shifts when he touches it. He gently caresses the flesh. Feels hot beneath his palm, your skin soft and bare. He sticks the nicotine patch just under the curve of your ass, just below your cheek, where the hem of your shirt won’t hide it, but you won’t notice it.

You don’t even move.

Art smooths a hand down your leg. Feeling its smoothness under his palm. Just once. Then, back up again, where his thumb grazes the patch, which warms under your skin. His heart thuds in his chest like he’s done something filthy. Maybe he has.

Because fuck it. Every time he puts one on you, especially when it’s your thighs, or your ass, or the soft dip of your hip... he gets hard from it like clockwork. Like some part of his brain associates the feel of your unconscious body under his hands.

He shouldn’t want it this much. He shouldn’t. This is fucked up, even for him.

But he does. He’s willing to bend his morals just for you. You’re his girl, after all.

Your breath is soft and slow. Your chest rises and falls like you’re dreaming something sweet. Maybe you are. Perhaps it’s about him. Maybe you’re dreaming something filthy. Maybe your cunt is as warm as your mouth gets when you’re half-asleep and draped over him, murmuring his name like it’s instinct.

His cock throbs.

He palms himself through his boxers.

God, he thinks. He could slide right in like this. (It’s not like he didn’t try it already)

You wouldn’t wake up. Maybe you’d shift a little and let out one of those broken sighs, legs parting out of habit. And he’d be so gentle with you. He’s not even going to be full-on fucking you. He’ll just thrust slowly and deep. Just a little. Just enough. Feel you clench around him in your sleep like your body knows who you belong to.

He’d never forgive himself.

But he might still do it.

He strokes himself slowly, silently, teeth sinking into his lip.

It’s not just the patch. It’s the trust. It’s the faith you are giving him. You are devoted. The way your body gives without knowing. The way you turn into him when he touches you is like instinct. Like your body knows it’s bim. Like your whole system has rewired around him.

You always crawl to him. Literally. Or figuratively. Always coming back into his arms when you try to leave. Do you even dare to do that?

It makes him dizzy.

You’ve tried. Three times now. Bags packed, the door slammed, voice shaking. When he tries to text you, you’ll say that he should delete your number. He never really replied after that. He’s so comfortable with the idea of you coming back. Because you always do, every time, within days, you’re back. Pale and trembling. Clingy. Teary. Like you need him.

Like something inside you can’t bear the idea of being without him.

You don’t know why. But Art does.

You will bury and nuzzle your face into his chest. You will sob, your cries shake. Your shoulders are shaking, your fingers are holding tight to his clothes like you are apologizing for thinking about leaving, and you have it hard like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. His palm slides up and down your spine, slow and calming, while you try to speak through the hiccuping wreck of your voice.

“I don’t know why...” your breath hitches and breaks. “But I- I can’t-” you inhale sharply, nearly gagging. Stuttering as always. “I can’t sleep without you. It’s like my skin itches. I feel vomiting every time. My skin feels scrawling. I feel sick. My head hurts all the time. I-” You clutch into him tighter. “I need you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sound so scared when you say it. You’re ashamed. It’s as if she’s the only one who wants to return, and he will continue to accept you as he does in a charity case.

But he’s not. He’s not ashamed.

Art hushes you, presses a kiss to your hair, and murmurs something like “Shh, I’ve got you, baby,” while his thumb circles just under the swell of your ass, right over where the patch had been the night before the day you left. He continuously removes them before you realize it’s there.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you.

But Art does.

He watches your breathing slow again. Thumb trailing down the back of your thigh, the spot just beneath the patch. His other hand is palming your ass, just gently, not groping it. You murmur something in your sleep, lashes fluttering, body arching slightly toward the touch.

His heart squeezes.

God, he wants to ruin you.

Wants to keep you this soft forever. He wants to be able to watch you sleep for hours. Keep you warm and drugged and fucked out and barely thinking, brain all mushy and just needing him, wrapped up in him like a koala that doesn’t know better. He wants to get you pregnant by accident. Watch you cry about it. Then he’ll comfort you into accepting it. Watch you stay.

You shift again, thighs pressing together. He watches the ripple of muscle, the heat in your skin, the spot where the shirt rides high enough to show the curve of your hip.

You’re not even awake, but he knows you’d let him.

If he touched you now, eased a hand between your legs, thumb soft against your clit, you’d whine for him. Quietly. Just enough to let out a sound. Maybe spread without waking. Let him finger you through your dream and wake up sore, aching, and full. God. He knows how easily you get wet.

Jesus.

He strokes his cock harder now. But not sloppy. Not the one who will make a sound. It’s just slow, desperate pulls, his other hand pressed to your hip like he’s steadying himself.

He comes quietly. Barely breathing. Fingers tight. Come sticky on his stomach, hips twitching. Your body shifts, barely, like it knows. His name almost falls from your mouth in your sleep. He quickly cleans it up, always having tissue beside the bed.

He watches you for a while longer.

You don’t wake.

You never do.

And he’s already up by the time the sun rises, turning the curtains lighter. Already cleaned up. But you’re still curled on your side. One leg is hooked over the blankets, patch warm, and pulsing on the soft meat of your thigh.

He peels it off gently.

Always before you wake. Always with a breath caught low in his throat.

God, you never notice how deep you sleep. That’s what he likes about you. The way you sleep early but even wake up later than him. Like you are enjoying your sleep, he loves how much warmer your body has run lately, how you turn into his touch before you’re even conscious of it. He knows your body better than you do now, how it reacts, clings and practically melts into the mattress when he moves behind you in the mornings.

He likes the morning the most. Sometimes, you’re still half-asleep when he fucks you. Sometimes, you sleep right through the first few strokes and mewling softly, legs parting, clit twitching under his fingers without thought. He’s not even rubbing it aggressively. Just slow flicks to make you more wet. To make you more slippery around him.

And sometimes you wake up in the middle of it. You are hazy and dazed and clingy as hell. Fuck he loves it. Already have you whimpering “Don’t stop,” like you’re the one who begged for it. Like it’s your idea. Like he’s not fucking you while you’re sleeping before you’re a whimpering mess. Like your cunt isn’t already dripping around him, greedy and fluttering and open for more.

It makes him crazy. The way you arch into him instinctively. You whine when he tries to slow down, like you’ll break apart if he leaves you empty. The way you cry into his neck with your face buried and say things like...

“Mmph… dunno why…” she breathes into his chest, lips barely moving, voice sticky with sleep. “Sleep so good when you’re here…”

A soft “ah-” slips out when he shifts, cock still half-hard, still pressed against the mess between her thighs. “Feels good… don’t go yet… don’t-” she mumbles, clinging tighter, legs tangled with his while he’s thrusting his cock slowly, just how you like.

A choked little “mmph, fuck-” when he moves again, just enough to press deeper. To find your spot.

“Hurts when you’re not- when you’re not touching me…” she sniffles hiccups. “You make it go away… I don’t know how… I just need-”

You trail off in a breathy whine like your words are too much. Like you’re overwhelmed just being near him. Your face always buries in his neck, damp and hot, tears cooling your cheeks. Your hips shift without meaning to. It made you whine.

You don’t even know what you’re saying. Doesn’t realize how deep it’s sunk. How wrecked you already are. How utterly, unconsciously, you’re his.

You don’t know what’s keeping you here.

But Art does.

And every morning, he gives her body another reason to stay.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[theleavesofwesteros]

cookie run - Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

A/N: Even though I wanted to come back with a Loki fic, I finally managed to watch thunderbolts (twice in the past week) and the brain worms made me write this. Sorry, I'm obsessed with him (with all of them). I hope I've managed to do him justice and that this isn't awful as it's midnight where I am and I'm dead tired lolll. I'm very hopeful that I'll write more about these losers (affectionate). please enjoy <333

tw: one mention of vomit, one mention of meth (sign twirling chicken), two idiots in love (deserves a warning), ava's takeout box (it's gnarly ;) ), like one sentence mention of the void, talk of loneliness

words: 2017

ps: thanks for the divider!!! @cafekitsune

You’d never really thought you’d get to do this. Well, you’d already done it once or twice, but still. You were going up the elevator of the newly repurposed Avengers Tower. A novel, unexpected perk of having randomly met Yelena in a drugstore about a year ago. She’d been in New York for some odd job at the time, and had been in the drugstore by your apartment, buying gauze and painkillers. You’d gone in on a whim on your way home from work, needing some vitamin supplements, which happened to be in the same aisle she’d been in. You remember complimenting her on her hair, and how it had started up a conversation, which had led to an exchange of numbers and lots of subsequent texting. Her job didn’t allow for much time to see one another in person, but it allowed for texts and facetimes paired with nightly drinks and debriefs.

You were happier now that Yelena’s permanent home seemed to have become New York, because it meant way more chances to actually hang out. But she loved to leech off of your apartment’s proximity to a really nice bakery with high quality bakes. Even worse, she’d brought a box of brownies back to the Tower once and the one leech had turned into six.

The ‘New Avengers’, as they were now known, had even added you to some new group chat with a primary function to beg you for more desserts from the bakery. At this point, you felt like you should be getting paid at least a little something for delivery of goods to a bunch of superhumans.

The group chat had lit up with messages at around noon today with Alexei, Yelena and John asking for yet another box of chocolate chip cookies. Ava had followed by sending a prayer emoji, and Bucky had sent a thumbs up, which was his way of signalling that he agreed with the request. You’d decided to take pity on them, because they’d been on a rough mission a mere few days ago and you hadn’t seen them since their return. 

When the elevator finally opened on the right floor, you were surprised by the serene silence that greeted you. Maybe they’d all finally managed to broker some sort of ‘silent time’ deal, which you were sure Bucky in particular would enjoy. You looked around as you walked further into the open room.

“… Hello?”

A head popped out from behind a wall.

“Hey!” Bob replied, shooting her a sort of hesitant and confused smile.

“Oh, Bob! Hi… are the others.. here…? I got the cookies they begged for.”

He frowns slightly.

“Did you not check your phone…? I texted in the group chat a while ago. They sort of left on an urgent mission two hours ago.”

Your face falls.

“Oh. I didn’t check… I just went right after work.” You groan slightly, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling in annoyance.

“Hey, hey… it’s fine, you know. They should be back tomorrow, anyways. The cookies will still be fresh.” He reassures you with a bashful smile, standing up from the armchair he’d grown fond of reading in.

You nod in response, moving over to the kitchen to set the box of cookies on the marble counter right as Bob approaches.

“You could stay.” He offers furtively.

You chance a glance at him.

“No. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure it’s peaceful here without them-”

“It’s actually pretty lonely… Quiet has always made me antsy. I don’t know how you live alone and stuff.” He admits.

“Yeah… I get you. Sometimes I freak out by how quiet my place is, too. Makes it real easy for thoughts to spiral.”

Your gazes meet and you share a small smile.

“… How are you feeling? Not… joining them yet?” You ask cautiously.

He shakes his head.

“I’ve been doing better lately…” He spares a glance to you. “But… yeah, some days are harder. Just… don’t wanna risk…” He clears his throat as he trails off.

You nod and move to gently pat his shoulder, but stop short, catching yourself. You knew Bob could be a bit hesitant with physical touch with people he didn’t really know. You didn’t want to assume the amount of space you took up in his life, and so you retracted your hand slowly, acting as if you’d gone to pick some lint off his clothing.

He smiles as he sees what you were wanting to do, his cheeks warming just slightly.

He clears his throat.

“Really. Please stay for dinner. Or a movie, or something. I was dreading having another dinner alone anyway. I can cook for us.”

You smile at his generous offer.

Out of all of them, you found that besides Yelena, Bob had been the easiest for you to befriend. He didn’t open up very easily. Well, none of them did, really, but he was more particular about how he went about it. And obviously, he’d have bad days where no one could really get as much of a word out of him, so the friendship between the two of you took patience more than anything else. However, it was evident that you both wanted it to work, and when it worked, it was great.

“Yeah? You’re becoming the Tower’s very own housewife, huh?” You tease, looking over to the empty sink and the loaded drying rack.

“Hey, superheroes never talk about their house cleaner, but their asses would be toast without one.” He boasts, opening the fridge to look at the ingredients.

He tilts his head, his shaggy brown hair bouncing slightly with the motion.

“Uhh…” He pauses, assessing his options. “Do you feel like chicken?”

You snort.

“Is that all you guys have in that massive fridge?”

He shuffles some things around in the fridge, checking for more dinner possibilities.

“…Um, okay, yeah. There’s also a box of takeout from Ava that is slowly going bad. Might’ve grown legs by now.” He says, popping his head out from behind the fridge door to shoot you a playful grin.

You make a face.

“Chicken, please.”

He gives you that sort of endearing side smirk he tends to do as he pulls the chicken out of the fridge. You, on the other hand, move to dispose of Ava’s takeout. From the smell of it, it really could have grown legs. And ran a marathon with them, too.

You chat amicably as he cooks, making amicable small talk.

“Did you learn to make this dish from your time as a sign slinging chicken?” You ask as you set the table for the two of you.

He groans and throws his head back while stirring the chicken as it cooks in a pan.

“Why did I ever let Yelena spread that part of my CV around?”

“Spread it around? It’s only me, Bob.” You laugh.

He raises a brow. “Dangerous enough, if you ask me.”

“I’m not a secret agent or something. So don’t worry, I won’t spread that sensitive information around.”

He huffs.

“Not why it worries me that you know about that.”

“Why then?” You tilt your head. “Oh, is it because you’re scared I’ll want to see pictures? Wait. Do you still have the costume? Because if that’s the case-”

“Oh, nah. The original one had to be burned because I threw up while wearing it. Meth. And stuff.”

You burst into laughter, and he turns his head to look at you as you do, a smile making it onto his face, too.

“Okay, just the pics, then.”

“Uh huh. I’ll try to scrounge some footage up for you. But only if you swear a blood oath not to spread it around to the fellow sign slingers here. They can’t learn my technique, y’know.”

The banter flows easily, and it all feels comfortable. It’s like the minimalistic décor of this floor of the Tower turns colourful and bright and grows wings and the whole room gets warmer. Being here, with Bob, feels like getting hugged by the very air you two breathe in.

Just as you’ve started to dig in, you ask something that’s come to mind while sitting at the dinner table.

“How does your dynamic even work? All of you, I mean. Is it more… family like now? Awkward family dinner? What are we talking?”

He snorts, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Awkward family dinner…” He mulls it over. “Yeah, I guess. I mean… we try. There’s usually at least someone missing from the table, but I think… yeah, I think we all try in our own way to make something of this place, to make it more ours. Not just like… for each individual, y’know? Think we’ve all been alone for too long to keep that up.”

You don’t even know why you asked him that, but it relieves you to hear that they all try for each other. That they, that Bob, isn’t alone anymore. You nod your head, smiling softly.

“… Is it ever lonely for you to live alone? I mean… I dunno if you have friends coming over often or something…” He says, taking a bite of food right as he finishes speaking, as if to keep himself busy.

“I mean, I have some friends coming over, sure. ‘Lena when she’s feeling particularly annoyed by you guys. No offense. Or other friends, yeah. But it’s not constant or too often. So yeah, I guess it gets lonely sometimes. Winter is worst, I find. The shadows feel longer somehow. Creepy.”

He nods, seeming perturbed by something.

“So… like no… no… permanent visitors to your apartment lately?” He asks casually, though he doesn’t seem quite as nonchalant as he might be trying to be.

You purse your lips.

“Well, nah… I’ve been busy with work, so I haven’t really had time for any sort of hangouts or anything. Is that what you meant?”

He nods quickly, quickly eating another forkful. His shoulders seemed lighter all of a sudden.

“Cool. Cool, yeah. Not the work adding up, I mean. But just the… yeah.” He shuts up after that.

You smirk down at your plate in confused amusement, and you two finish off your dinner in pleasant, if not somewhat awkward, silence.

You settle in on the couch after washing up post-dinner. You sit in the middle of the couch, with lots of space to spare on either side, but Bob seems content to sit pretty close to you. You find that you don’t mind. You let Bob pick the movie, and he ends up settling on some sort of slasher film from the 90s.

As the movie starts building up the scares, you feel him shuffle closer to you just slightly.

“… S’okay if you’re scared.” He says softly, moving his hand over the back of the couch in a slightly laggy move, as if pushing through resistance.

You look over at him.

“I’m okay for now.” You reassure him with a small smile. “Is this you saying you’re scared?”

“Wha- No. Nah.” He says with a little huff. “I mean… I’ve seen this before, so it’s fine.” He admits sheepishly, the bravado dropping slightly.

Your laughter makes the back of your head hit his arm softly. You pause, and look over at him, only to find him watching you with a small smile on his face, making his smile lines show.

You feel warm all over again and move to pull away.

“No… stay. Please.” He whispers, not moving at all.

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I want you to. I want- yeah.”

You nod and sit up slightly, just so you can sit more comfortably, letting his forearm cushion the back of your neck. You make a point of putting all your effort into going back to watching the movie afterwards. Bob returns his focus to it, too, but when he adds commentary to it now, you can sort of feel more of a confidence, maybe even some smugness, coming from him. You think it suits him.

[steelheart-redux]

Steelheart Redux: Year 1 Retrospective

I meant to post this yesterday but forgot. Oops. Anyway, June 1st marked the official first full year of Steelheart Redux! For me, at least. While the comic didn’t go public until September, those who have been here since the start remember that I uploaded all of chapter 1 at once. That work started in June, so I consider that the comic’s effective birthday.

With that disclaimer out of the way: what a year it’s been! In 365 days, I drew 153 comic pages. That’s about 0.4 pages a day— a little shy of a page every other day. Granted, those numbers aren’t an even spread. I made all of chapter 1 in three months (68 pages) and then had to take a break for a while because of wrist strain (wonder how THAT happened…) and then the amount of backlog I had fluctuated wildly for a while. Some days I have more time and motivation than others. It happens.

Quite honestly, I’m mainly happy that I’ve stuck with the project. My worst fear was that I’d get a month or two into Actually Doing The Thing, then get bored, demotivated, and give up. Luckily, my brain has allowed me to stick with Redux with a level of consistency that is frankly unforeseen from me, and I’m just as motivated as I was a year ago, if not more, thanks to people's interest. I’ve said it before, but the reception to the story already regularly blows me away. I went into this with the expectation that it would take years for the comic to gain any real traction, if it ever happened at all. But here we are, a year in, with tens, if not hundreds of regular readers across multiple platforms. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, and as I’ve said, I’m so, so grateful for the trust and support.

Looking back, the comic started on wobbly feet. That’s something I knew even at the time and had to make my peace with. Steelheart Redux is my first original story project, first long-form comic (first colored comic longer than a few pages, tbh), and first time I've ever really left the title of "fanartist" behind for longer than a month or so. I knew I was entering uncharted waters and that whatever I made, I'd later come to see as 'bad', or at least, not executed as well as it could have been. Unfortunately, the only way to get that experience and improve is to do it bad. So I did it bad!

STRUGGLES:

Chapter 1 is way too long. Not in terms of content, but in terms of page count. For some reason, I was utterly allergic to the idea of putting more than four panels on a page. While I do like the pacing of it, and the sort of slow ease-in to the world and the setting, I made way more work for myself than I needed to. I definitely could have cut at least 10 pages by compressing things without seriously hurting the pacing, and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. Figuring out how to "trim the fat" and get to where I'm going as fast as possible without making things feel rushed is still something I'm working on, but I'm a lot more intentional about things now that I know it can cost me time and physical strain. You can see the font size slowly shrinking throughout the comic's run as I pack more in, lol. Honestly, it kind of works.

I have various other nitpicks. I'm sparing myself from the general "I don't like how I drew that"s in terms of anatomy and such, as those are just an inescapable result of improving as an artist and not worth getting in the weeds over. I will raise my eyebrows over some lighting choices-- I went out of my way to plan out a way to make the nighttime section of early chapter 2 read as "night, but not dark", and then the entire bit was annoyingly dark as hell. Trying to get the purple DRACO to visually stand out from the concrete there was obnoxiously difficult. I don't think it's bad-- I like the 'scribble background' gimmick I came up with to save myself from having to do backgrounds there, for one thing-- but I don't think it would have killed me to brighten up that section a bit. Something to keep in mind for later.

Speaking of backgrounds. Maybe it's too early to say, but at least right now, changing the background style was a game changer. That was one of the largest time sinks of early pages, adding 2-3 hours to every page that had at least one or two backgrounds. They were doable, but tedious, and as time went on, I found myself enjoying them less and less, instead of more and more as I'd hoped. You can see details start to disappear as a result, as backgrounds stopped being a "fun worldbuilding element" and "visual element of the page" and became just "something I had to draw to get the page done". Changing the style to a much looser one has brought the fun back, and made it much easier to pack in all the details I actually enjoy drawing without getting bogged down in "is the perspective exactly right". I've written posts before about making things easier for yourself if you're doing a long-form project; this is honestly my best example.

GROWTH:

I feel like, looking back, I can see myself become a lot more confident with drawing various things. Steelheart Redux is filled-- intentionally and not-- with things I'm bad at drawing, which has forced me to improve at those things sheerly through unavoidable repetition. Mainly, this includes backgrounds, mechs (still can't get me to draw cars though LOL), full bodies, and profiles.

It's also interesting to see the way I draw characters change. Going into the comic, I'd already been drawing Arthur for years, but making pages forced me to really lock in his design and get comfortable with drawing it. While it's not too different in terms of content, it has a different 'feel' now. This, too, I know is inevitable, and honestly something I look forward to.

I've become a lot more confident in doing these things, which makes making pages less intimidating and lets me experiment more with layouts and angles I might have otherwise been afraid to try. It's nice! It shows in a lot of the end of chapter 2, which is one of my favorite parts of the chapter. I was worried about hitting those emotional beats, because they're setting up for a lot and really needed to feel meaningful, but I think I landed them alright. My character writing is still something I worry a bit about-- there's a lot of subtlety to these guys and this story I worry I won't be able to get across in a more visual story-- but that's something for me to increasingly focus on going forward.

Away from the comic, I've also improved a lot as a 3D modeler. My robot rigs have improved, and I have much better human bases to work off. I can also slam out a layout for a scene much faster, which is a nice time boost to my workflow.

Overall, despite the hurdles and rough edges of some of the early stuff, I'm incredibly proud of everything I've produced. This is the first time I've ever put my heart, body, and soul so thoroughly into a project like this, and I'd like to think it shows.

While we're still in somewhat of the early stage of the comic's story, I'm hoping I've made a solid foundation for myself. I'm so excited for what's to come, and hoping I can execute it even better, year by year.

[leviackmyman]

for whatever that's worth (levi ackerman) . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

content: levi x gn!reader | 2.5 k | after you moved for a new job, levi felt as though the distance was permanent. believing you would never read it, he finds the courage to spill his heart into a letter. warnings: angst (with a happy ending), yearning note: i decided to do a mini series of fics for aot characters based on songs from sydney ross mitchell's pure bliss forever ep! levi's is based off "pure bliss forever" <3 also ignore that i wrote another thing about someone moving away. i SWEAR i have other stories to tell

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

it was agony, all those conversations levi had with you in his head. in the shower, in bed when he couldn’t sleep, on his way to the grocery store, sometimes even in the mirror when he got ready for his day. it was almost as if the longer he spent without actually talking to you, the more the words became clear in his mind. it was a sick joke. 

as much as he tried, begged, to forget the pain, the fact that you moved away always hung over him. maybe the grief of you leaving wouldn’t be so heavy if he had really believed you when you first mentioned the idea. but, because he didn’t have the courage to ask, there were so many unanswered questions. there were so many words left unsaid–at least on his part–and there were so many times he wondered if you ever even properly said “goodbye.”

levi didn’t remember who initiated the silence. honestly, he couldn’t be sure that the silence was created by either of you. it felt so massive, so real, that he would believe it if the silence were an actual living being, pushing you both apart, covering each mile between your cities. but the fact of the matter is that levi pushed you away before you left. or, rather, he didn’t chase after you when you walked away. no matter how many times he watched the scene play back in his head, the truth was he never saw you look back.

the cause was simple: you moved to a different city because you accepted a new job. the fallout, however, was complicated. despite being dear friends, you never really discussed this in detail. you never really mentioned wanting a change, never once during the meals you shared almost every other day, not even a blip in your near-daily phone calls. then again, even levi knew this was more of an opportunity that fell into your lap, not something you intended on doing so quickly. it gutted him though that, when you revealed the news, it was a passing comment over coffee. you didn’t offer much of an explanation, but levi assumed that was because he didn’t ask. you told him the truth, suddenly and simply, and in a way that was so final he didn’t know what to say other than okay. i hope the new job and city treat you well.

it wasn’t okay, but how was he supposed to tell you that? how was he supposed to tell you how much he’d miss you when you presented the news like a statement that couldn’t be argued? how would he even find the words to ask what happened when your distant expression knocked the wind out of him?

by some sick twist of fate, a cruel joke really, levi found the words you were searching for several months after you were gone. you left him behind, and he begrudgingly accepted that wouldn’t change. maybe that was why he could finally say what he had been keeping secret all this time. levi knew you’d never hear him, so he didn’t have to worry about making you hear him out.

frantically, late at night, he stopped tossing and turning in bed and started writing. something took over him. perhaps it was the ghost of who he was when you were in his life. the version of him that thought you would be by his side forever. the future he lost when he lost you, the potential that haunted him every waking moment. whatever it was that took hold that night, he was a madman possessed, overwhelmed with honesty and determined to get everything out in the open before he lost the strength, before he swallowed his courage instead of his pride.

y/n, i know you’ll never read this, so i won’t bother lying or hiding the truth behind pretty words - it hurts, but there is a freedom in knowing that i can no longer reach you. i think that pain is more bearable than the pain i felt the day you left.

you’d probably be surprised to learn about all the ways i was hurt, destroyed even, by you leaving. i’ve never known how to do anything other than keep quiet, than to keep my cards close to my chest. i won’t spend any more time wondering if you clenched your jaw to keep the confession on your lips from climbing out as you were saying “goodbye.” i am trying not to spend any more time wondering what you were thinking when you decided to go, when you decided to uproot your life so quickly, so definitively. it still haunts me. that day you flipped my life upside down. you still haunt me.

i’ll cut to the chase. you leaving cut me so deeply that i felt like a cavern, ready to swallow the whole world until i couldn’t feel the pain of missing you. it’s ironic, honestly, because i knew i loved you when i realized you were the person i’d miss most if you were gone. i was figuring out the words to say, waiting for the right time to tell you that i loved you, that my life with you was a dream come true. then, in a moment, in a single sentence, you made my nightmare come true. you’ve proven me right, in the worst possible way.

do you think it would have been different if i told you “i love you” sooner? i honestly don’t know if i could handle your answer. i guess i’m glad you can’t respond. at least i can comfort myself with a false sense of hope that i could have had any influence on your decision. at least i can hold onto a sweet delusion that, at one point, i was an important part of your life. 

i wanted you, for whatever that’s worth. all the days with you in my life, i wanted you more than anything. i wanted pure bliss forever, and i thought the path to that was walking by your side. as embarrassing as it is, i can finally admit that i was mistaken. but my foolishness doesn’t change the truth. i loved you, yn. i loved you then, and i think there’s a part of me that loves you now. 

i hate to admit it, but i miss you, even though you disappeared without a trace. or, rather, i think i miss who you used to be, the version of you that i recognize. i guess i can’t miss who you are now. it’s not really possible to miss a stranger, no matter how much they resemble someone you once loved. i hear that reminder in your voice, whenever i lose myself in thoughts of you. even after all this time, all this silence, you’re still the one offering reason in the face of all my confusion. isn’t that something?

maybe there’s a part of me that will always belong to you. only time will tell. for my own sake, for my own sanity, i hope that isn’t true.

yours, 

love, 

warmly, 

take care.

he was out of tears when he slipped the envelope into the mailbox. he was out of hope as he stepped away. despite the weight that remained in his chest, his shoulders felt lighter, the way you feel simultaneous relief and grief when you know how a good book ends. 

days passed, and levi buried that letter deep down, far away in the corner of his mind where he kept memories of you. he felt that he was finally turning a corner, finding a way to enjoy his life without yearning for the love he lost. but, of course, life wouldn’t be kind enough to let him off the hook that easily. he reminded of this truth when he heard a knock at the door. a sound he recognized before your knuckles hit the door a second time. 

“why are you here?” he tried to keep his voice level, indifferent at best, but the disbelief crept in regardless.

you stood in front of him, looking almost exactly the same as you looked when you turned to say goodbye. as you stood across from him, you noticed his hair was a little disheveled, at least by levi standards, and you could’ve sworn there were the smallest bags under his eyes. you worried that he wasn’t sleeping well enough. 

“i got your letter.”

he bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crept up after hearing your matter-of-fact answer, somehow comforted by the simplicity of it, “i see that. did you come all this way to tell me you got it?”

“no.”

you paused. maybe you were expecting him to ask you another question, to guide you towards the truth neither of you knew how to say. but he was so tired, so overwhelmed by your presence after so long, that he stayed silent. his letter said everything he wanted to say. it was your turn to talk.

“after i read your letter–and i read the entire thing, more than once–i had a question i couldn’t get out of my head.”

something about your emphasis on reading every word made his breath halt in his chest. levi felt a twinge in his heart at the fact that his confession lingered in your mind long enough for you to form a question. he lingered in your mind long enough for you to be here, right in front of him. that was enough to spike his adrenaline so much that his hands trembled, despite their unmoving position at his side.

“what?”

you sighed, perhaps displeased with the emotionless tone he offered. you paused again, glancing down at the paper in your hand, running your thumb over the imprint of his handwriting. 

“why, after crossing every kind word at the end out, did you still tell me to take care?” 

he pressed his lips together, holding back his emotions in order to tell the truth as simply as possible, “just because i wrote that letter to say goodbye to the person i loved doesn’t mean i stopped wanting the best for you.” 

you stared at him, longer than he’d ever noticed you doing before. despite years of wishing you’d see him the way he saw you, despite months of wishing you had just turned back, just once, he realized that maybe he was never ready to handle the intensity of your gaze. it was as though every part of him was being unraveled, analyzed, and put back together, with so much gentleness and care he thought he’d combust.

“do you still intend to say goodbye?”

“do you still intend to be far away?”

your eyes focused on the letter, gripped so tightly in your hand your knuckles were porcelain, waiting to break. it must’ve been the wind, the glare of the light, but he could’ve sworn that he saw you shaking. 

“i guess i didn’t really show it, but the worst part of leaving this city was leaving you. that’s why i…well, i didn’t know what to say all this time because…i didn’t know how to tell you that i carry you with me wherever i go. and, after reading your letter, i hoped that maybe you were the same. that…that even though how things changed left a bad taste in your mouth, the part of my heart i left here still had a place in your life…despite everything.” 

all he could do was stare at you. he waited for the words to seem real, to make sense with the reality he contended with for all this time. he waited for logic to kick in, to tell him how to respond in a way that won’t let him get hurt (again). but your voice was still his voice of reason, and he couldn’t find a reason not to believe what you were saying right now.

“why didn’t you tell me that when you left? why didn’t you explain why you left so quickly?”

“levi,” you sighed, clearly trying to keep your voice calm, “i would’ve told you if you had asked. i thought…well, i thought you didn’t care. i didn’t realize that i mattered to you until i got your letter,” you held it up between you two, maybe trying to prove that this was the only connection left, “which you didn’t really want me to get, seeing as you sent it to my old address.” 

he flinched at your scowl, but he made no move to disagree with your anger. it was the least he could do, after all. levi knew he didn’t ask you more about your choice, and you were right. he didn’t write the letter with the intention of you knowing how he felt. he was so much of a coward that all he could do was hope it got thrown out by the new resident. considering none of this behavior was reflective of loving someone, if asked, he would admit that he deserved to be your punching bag for all of eternity, given the ways he hurt you and let you down.

“i’m sorry,” levi stopped, mulled over his words, “i didn’t ask because i was scared. i assumed that i would never be enough to make you stay. more than that, i…loved you so much i felt like i had to let you go, if that's what you really wanted. i think i was a fool, a coward who just sat in silence because i'd rather hear you say goodbye than hear you say you didn’t want me.”

you saw levi clench and unclench his fists, clearly uncomfortable with this new vulnerability. rather than torturing him–or yourself–with prolonged silence, you replied with all the courage and kindness you could muster.

“i love you, levi. i want you, i want that ‘pure bliss forever’ you talked about, for whatever that’s worth.” 

it was like his heart was breaking all over again, but this time breaking down to build itself back into a better version of what it once was. you stood, frozen in time, waiting for his answer. instead of saying anything, he quietly stepped forward to wrap you in his arms. despite the shock, you melted into him immediately, unable to resist being held in the only arms you ever felt safe in. 

“say the word and i’m yours,” you whispered against his shoulder, “please.”

he squeezed you tighter, happy that the words came out somehow, even if late and after so much pain. he figured he shouldn’t waste any more time with words left unsaid.

“i still want you. i love you, and i’ll have you, as long as you’ll have me.”

you loosened your grip on him, just enough so you could lean back and look him in the eyes as you said, “i could never want anyone else.”

levi smiled. his dream come true, his pure bliss forever, was right there in his arms. he was never letting you go again.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

Tagged by @dramalove247 here thank you!💜

So when I saw this game, my mind immediately went to pain. Maybe because of the post that originated the game or maybe because it's easier to remember the pain lol (laughing to mask the pain). But then I started to think about shows and scenes and so many scenes live in my brain and not just because they hurt, but also because I felt such joy, or a scene that made me relate in a good way, or made me laugh non stop. So, with that in mind, here goes my list of scenes that I will never forget, no matter how many more shows I watch. I'm gonna keep it QL to make it easier on me but I also started to think about scenes from other asian media, so if anyone wants to tag me again, feel free. But also, don't feel obligated. You know what I mean. Let's go.

Kinou Nani Tabeta

I still get teary eyed just looking at the gifs. Chicken thighs as love. Shiro had me crying throughout most of season 2, but this moment absolutely wrecked me. There's something about Shiro's understated but deep way of loving Kenji that hits harder than any tragic scene ever could.

Love in the Big City

What can I even say about this scene. It destroyed me twice. First when I read it and then actually seeing it. I related too heavily to Young in this scene for reason I wrote about before, so I'll stop there before I start crying and don't stop.

Love for Love's Sake

This show had plenty of scenes that completely wrecked me, so I could've picked several. But this one was a gut punch that absolutely shattered my heart. It was just so overwhelming. And it felt like looking in a mirror.

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat

Not gonna go into it right now. Everything you need to know about how I feel about this scene and others like these can be found here. It healed something in me to watch it.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

"To get into character." I could hear his heart break into a million pieces. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it. Such an incredible scene and an amazing job by Komagine Kiita.

Life~Love on the Line

This is one of those where you had to be there. Cause I'm not gonna spoil anything. I live here, on this beach. Damn you Akira!

Time of Fever

THE HEATER BETWEEN THEM!!! (*waves at @colourme-feral*) This scene has taken permanent residence in my brain. These two had me in a choke hold for way too long, and this scene was just perfect in every way.

The Untamed

Scene of all time. Suffice it to say that I sometimes go back just to watch this scene. Or to read that chapter in the book. That's the effect this scene has on me. I love Wen Ning so much. The actors were great here. Jiang Cheng just makes me hate him and want to hug him, all at the same time. And seeing Lan Zhan putting the pieces together just ends me. Oh it's so good.

Light On Me

"During the time I couldn't see anything, and I was unaware, Noh Shin-Woo thought about me. He talked to me. The messages that remained unread and his feelings that weren't relayed, came pouring out to me, all at once." AAAAAAAHHHHHH. Confession of all time. That's all.

And last but certainly not least, truly an unforgettable bl moment....

Every You, Every Me

This scene had me laughing so hard. For that whole afternoon after I watched this episode, this scene kept coming back to me and I could not stop laughing. Carrots will never be the same.

And we come full circle, starting with chicken thighs and ending with carrots, proving once again, that food is ultimately the most memorable thing to me. This was hard because I wanted to include so many others that I love and think about and can't forget, but today these were it.

Tagging but as usual no pressure: @thisonelikesaliens @colourme-feral @abstractelysium @troubled-mind @italianpersonwithashippersheart @nabi-unveiled @yannig @theside-b @watchthisqqq @watchingblsnowandforever @littleragondin @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle and if you see this and want to play consider yourself tagged here ➡️@ 💜

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Bedtime Books and Brews

Teen Wolf | Sterek | General | 3,160 words

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Derek wrote an entire book because of a crush and will now win the cutes getting together story ever. He would agree to if he didn’t have to recount the story on a popular talk show while trying not to turn a million shades of read.

It all felt so cliche. How many times could you hear about how someone’s neighbors were being too loud so they went to work at a coffee shop/book store/library and ended up falling for the cute employee? Well, you’d have to hear it at least one more time is you wanted to know how Derek fell in love with Stiles.

His apartment was so loud. The couple next door just had a baby. They also either adopted a poltergeist or a cat, he wasn’t sure which, that liked to yowl at random and knocked thing off shelves constantly. It made Derek feel very thankful for his own cat, even if he would glare at Derek as if the noise were his fault.

Derek remember the frist time he told Stiles the cat’s name and how scandalized he was by it.

“You named your cat Darcy,” Stiles asked in object horror.

“What’s wrong with his name? It’s from—”

“Ya, ya. From Pride and Prejudice, which is the correct name to pick from that book, by the way, but that’s not a cat’s name!” Stiles was never still, even standing in place, he was waving and gesturing as he talked. “Cat names are– like– Cardboard or Salami or Shit Head or Cornelius.”

“Do you have a cat,” Derek asked and Stiles whipped out his phone.

“I have two,” he showed Derek a picture. “The grey one is Porkchop and the orange one is Abraham de Lacy Giuseppe Casey Thomas O'Malley,” Stiles said proudly.

Derek just stared at Stiles, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “The cat from Aristocats?”

“He is Thomas O’Malley the alley cat! Respect his title,” Stiles joked.

See, the trouble was, Derek did his best writing at night, meaning there weren’t that many places he could escape to for peace and quiet at nine in the evening. Maybe that was for the best, thought, because when he looked up open coffee shops, he found a little hideaway by the name of ‘Bedtime Books and Brews’.

It was a small, cluttered store but it made it feel inviting rather than hectic. With floor to ceiling book shelves, vining plants, and little reading nooks that were cut into the book shelves themselves, there were plenty of places to sit in the quiet and write. The dark green of the walls continued up to the ceiling where the usual harsh LED lights had been replaced with something softer. 

Derek found himself sitting among the classics where a high, locked shelf held special editions. The small table he settled at had a lamp that was meant to look like a candle but was just bright enough to see. He set his laptop on the table and set his notebook to the right. He carefully set out a pencil, a black pen, and an eraser. He looked to make sure he had each color of pen in his pencil pocket, each color corresponding to a different draft. Once everything was set, he only needed to write.

Clicking through ideas and drafts, he tried to find something that drew him in, something he wanted to write. Even if it was just a line or two or a random scene he’d fit in later but nothing came. 

Really, he needed to keep working on the next book in his mystery series, the series’s fanbase was up in arms about the cliffhanger of the last book– his main character had come home to find their entire house had be emptied while they were gone and their best friend missing. The trouble was, he wasn’t even sure how the cliffhanger should be sated. 

Sure, he knew what was supposed to happen and he’d been dropping small hints about it in previous books– the best friend was planted in the character’s life by the same organization that had ruined the character’s family business and framed his mother for it. He just… he couldn’t get the words out of his head other than to jot down the plot. So, there he was, looking for inspiration.

“Hey, welcome in,” a voice said and Derek looked up from his computer. 

Standing at the end of the isle of shelves was a tall man in a baggy, worn band-t with a flannel over shirt, jeans and beat-up sneakers. He had a pair of wired earbuds with only one in. He looked to be around Derek’s age, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, with messy brown hair and a bright smile even in the dim light. 

“Sorry, if I startled you. I’m Stiles and, uh, if you want coffee or want to know where anything is, I’ll be in the back at the counter,” He said, pointing at the register deeper into the store, and Derek nodded. “I, uh, also have hot tea and hot chocolate if that’s more your speed. And I just picked up some decaf coffee too, so I can make that. There’s also some cookies and brownies and banana bread too. If you like bananas, you’ll have to tell me how it tastes because it’s a new recipe…” He twisted his loose earbud between two fingers, fidgeting as he stood. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Ya, I’m Stiles so just let me know if I can do anything for you.”

Stiles wandered away, mumbling something that Derek couldn't hear. 

With the brief interruption gone, Derek was once again left looking at a blank document. If he could just write something– one sentence– he’d feel better. Just something.

He closed his laptop and sighed. Looking around him again, his eyes caught on a large set of vines hanging down the shelves to his right. All of the hanging vines were coming from a single plant. He carefully touched the leaf, surprised that it was real. There were plants scattered amongst the shelves and he wondered if they were all real and how they survived in the dark space.

Derek stood, looking at the different editions of the stories he loved. He smiled when he found a copy of The Prince and the Pauper. His mother had read it to him when he was younger. She was a college English professor and had raised each of her kids with a love of reading. 

Derek had loved books for as long as he could remember. He’d never quite fit in as a kid so he found his greatest escape in the other worlds people created and dreamed of creating his own. In a book, he didn’t have to figure out what other people were thinking or how things he said would effect them. He could find patterns and foreshadowing to know what was next.

He wandered into the mystery section, curious to see if he could find his own name in the rows. He was still surprised and excited to find his own books in stores, even if his series had seen its five minutes of fame on social media– his friend Erica had sent him a video of people in a book recommendation group she was a part of ranting and raving about the first book. Sure enough, he came across his books on the shelf. 

He was surprised to see not just his series but a few of his stand alone novels. His face and ears turned pink at the discovery. Someone had purposely ordered his work, not just picking the popular releases.

“Are you a fan?”

Derek jumped, face burning red when he turned and saw Stiles next to him. 

This close, he could see Stiles’s face better. He could see the littered freckles and moles, the way the light cough in his brown eyes, his thick eyelashes, his fill lips. Derek’s heart jumped, doing nothing to help the red of his face. God, he felt like a stupid teenager.

Stiles laughed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, staring to put away the books in his arms. “Just putting some new arrivals away and I noticed you looking. The Fortune Lost series is one of my friends’ favorites at the moment. What did you think of the second book’s cliffhanger?”

“Have you read them,” Derek asked nervously. He really didn't like people in his day to day life knowing he'd written the series. He’d only told a few of his close friends and his family.

“Well, not exactly,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got the double-whammy of ADHD and Dyslexia so I usually wait for an audio book but Lydia, she's totally hooked and she'll explain what happens so she can rant to me.

“But you have a bookstore?”

“Ya and there’s a whole section of books with that font that’s meant to help dyslexic people. It’s crazy that they don’t print every book in like that. The first time I saw it in an actual print book was Percy Jackson and it’s so cool the difference it makes. If only there was a font that would help with my inability to finish a series cause, you know, you finish it and it’s like losing the characters but I guess that’s what fanfiction’s for, right?”

Derek nodded, “it is. So you can tell your own version.”

“Man, I wish I could write stories like that,” Stiles said, putting away the last few books he was holding. “I always end up in a mess of words and bad explanations and nothings in the right place. I think a toddler could tell a story better. It really sucks, too, because– you know how people will, like tell themself a story to get to bed– I’ve been making up stories and details about the same world in my head since I was, like, five. I mean, I made up detailed magic systems and what money they use and the way people look and how they talk and their jobs and the creatures they keep and—” Stiles glanced at Derek and cut himself off. “Sorry, I know you don’t really care. I tend to ramble. Do you want coffee or tea or…”

But Derek did care. He did want to know more, but how could he ask with out seeming weird? “What kind of tea do you have?”

Stiles smiled and waved for Derek to follow him up to the counter.

“I like that you don’t play music,” Derek said as he followed Stiles to the coffee bar.

“Huh? Oh, ya. I think must people prefer to listen to their own music anyway, especially if they’re working in the shelves so It just ends up getting distracting. Plus, not everyone likes the same music and my music doesn’t really fit the chill, cozy vibe,” Stiles explain, rounding the counter. “Anything specific you like? Or don’t like? Or are allergic too?”

“I don’t like green tea.”

“Oh, I’m totally with you there,” Stiles agreed with a laugh. “Actually, I think I have one you’ll like.” He opened a cabinet and started to move boxes of tea. He finally grabbed a bag of loose leaf tea and showed it to Derek. “They named it ‘The Fox and the Wolf’ but it’s a cinnamon and raspberry black tea. Interested?”

“Sure,” Derek said and Stiles turned to start fixing his cup. 

Derek tried to find the right way to ask about the fantasy world Stiles had been talking about but it sounded weird however he worded it. He repeated the question in different ways in his head, trying to find one that sounded better. 

“I really like this tea,” Stiles said, scooping some of the leaves into a bag and starting the kettle. “I got it a ren fair the first time and now I order it off their website. I actually get emails from them every time they restock because they know it’s one of my favorites. I usually end up buying, like, three bags at a time because I’ll get on these kicks where I won’t drink anything else and water is water, you know?” 

Derek nodded. “Sometimes I’ll go days where the only thing I can eat are arepas.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. “I do too! But, like, with fettuccine alfredo from this awesome pasta place off tenth street. They know my order as soon as they read my name!”

“I go to the same bakery every Saturday for breakfast and get the same thing every time.”

“I love being a regular at places like that because they know you and then they start to care and it’s a fun little conversation every time you go in.” the kettle beeped and Stiles poured Derek’s tea and set it in front of him. “Hey, maybe this can be a regular thing,” he said. “Ah, but not worries if not! Do you want some banana bread?”

“No, this is good,” Derek said. “My name’s Derek.”

“Like the author,” Stiles asked. 

Derek nodded. Had Stiles figured out he was the author Derek Hale? 

“That’s pretty funny. Is that why you started reading his books?”

“I guess,” Derek mumbled. “Do you… Do you want to tell me about your fantasy world? Since you can’t write it…”

Stiles paused, his smile growing bigger. “Really? You want to know about it?” Derek nodded and and Stiles laughed. “Wow, uh, ya. Where to start? So there’s a bunch of character in the story and they all have really detailed backstories about how they end up meeting. My favorite backstory is definitely Henrik because his family are all able to understand animals and they became the more prolific magical animal trainers– I mean, duh, they can communicate with them– but he can’t do that. He has, like, no magical ability and it totally ended up causing him to be seen as less capable so he decides to train a dragon because even his family won’t attempt to train dragons out of fear.”

Derek sat and listened to Stiles. He asked questions and picked out his favorite parts. Derek found himself wanting to hear more. He wanted to know everything. He sat and listened for so long that someone came in to take Stiles’s place.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, patting Stiles on the shoulder as he rounded the counter. “Shift change time.”

“It’s two already,” Stiles asked and Derek was just as surprised.  

“Ya, bro. Two in the morning, meaning it’s time for you to leave,” the other guy said. “Go home and get some sleep or you’re going to die later.”

It only took once for Derek to get hooked– on the story, on the store, on the tea, on Stiles– and he started coming back. After a few days, He figured out that Stiles worked from seven pm to two am Tuesday through Saturday and the shop was closed on Monday nights. 

Every night, Stiles would tell Derek about a character or a backstory or some hyper specific detail he’d made up in the years he’d spent daydreaming about this world. Derek wasn’t sure when it happened but he started making notes after Stiles would leave. 

He would use his forest green pen and writing down everything he remembered as he sat in the classic literature section with the candle-lamp on. 

Then his notes turned into stories. The first one he wrote was Henrik’s backstory. If he ran into a detail he wasn’t sure about, Derek would make a note of it, highlight it in the document in green and would ask Stiles. He wanted to put Stiles’s story into words for him. He wanted to bring everything Stiles fantasized about to life. Derek was sure by the time he was done, even Tolkien would be impressed by the detail given to the world. 

Derek really hadn’t intended for it to become a book– he was a mystery writer, not a fantasy writer– but it had. Each chapter switched between Stiles’s characters, telling each of their stories until they met. 

He put Stiles’s name before his as the author. In the preface, he explained how the book had come to be, that Stiles gave him every detail and he just made it readable. Then he printed it out.

He printed out eight hundred seventy two pages and then he had it bound.

Derek didn’t know how much time he’d spent on it, how long he’d talked to Stiles in the year since they met, how long he’d spent figuring out with fonts were best for dyslexia, or why he’d gone so far with it. What he did know is that he put Stiles’s fantasy world on paper in a way he’d be able to read it. 

He knew he wanted to make Stiles happy and that was enough.

The next day that Stiles worked, Derek changed his routine. He didn’t go to the classics section. He didn’t put out his computer or his notebook. He didn’t set out his pens or spent an hour writing. No, he walked right to the counter where Stiles was labeling books.

“Hey Der!” Stiles smiled at him, checking the time to see if he’d lost track, but he hadn’t. Derek was changing his routine, the one he’d set in stone over the past year. “Something’s different. Care to share,” he asked, noticing how nervous Derek looked.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his backpack and pulled out the manuscript, setting it in front of Stiles.

“What’s this,” he asked, looking at the book. His smile fell as he read the authors’ names. “This is crazy, I’ve never written anything and I’ve definitely never written anything with Derek Hale!”

Derek took a breath. “You didn’t write it but I did.” He reached over, flipping the book to the preface. “These are your stories, the ones you’ve been telling me. You told me how they should go, down to the smallest detail, and I wrote them out.” He took a breath. “I’m Derek Hale. I wrote Foggy grave, Coriander and Lye, and the fortune lost series. When you found me looking at my books on the shelf, I just wanted to see if they were there. And I may have written this but they’re your stories.”

  Stiles flipped through the book, looking at his stories. He read his thought out to paper. Every word, every detail, every random detail had been fit in. Things that couldn’t be worked into the body of the story were written as epigraphs st the start of chapters. 

“This is— this may be the best thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, this is proposal level shit. Like, I’d be an idiot not to— Date me? Marry me? You made my literal dream into a book!”

[yourcupbearer]

‧₊ 𐔌 Transplural Tips & Ideas <3 ˚｡⋆୨୧

You heard me, I'm gonna do what nobody's done before... and by that I mean plenty of people have done it before. But that's besides the point! <3 This post is a buuunch of tips about furthering your progression into plurality from start to finish, from a cisplural + cisDID! These are all just ideas though, and none of it is mandatory; you're still just as plural even if you don't do any of these things! <33

Note that this is a very, VERY long read, framed to help you further understand and form your system. It can also be used by cisplurals / severity-plurals! This post includes: general tips to encourage progress, how to recognize and help alters form, inspiration for fleshing out fragments, tips for creating your headspace, and more!

I. General Tips!

⊹˖ ⤑ Affirmations, affirmations, affirmations. It might not seem like it, but your mind can do a lot of things just with the power of suggestion, and the language you use affects you deeply!! No saying things like "I want to be a system" -- be more specific; "I want my headspace to be more fleshed out", "I want my sysmates to be more distinct", etc. This not only helps you get clear goals set that you can actually work towards, but it also helps to convince your brain that you're a system.

⊹˖ ⤑ Avoid negative language and fakeclaiming. Similarly to the above, you need to use affirmations that help convince your brain. Negative language tells your brain those negative thoughts; I go into a little detail about this more here, but essentially, don't use negative language when discussing your transition! Even if you're feeling like your transition is going too slowly, using sarcasm with positive language will still trick your brain that you're being positive. Think of every time you fakeclaim yourself or call yourself a singlet or whatnot as five steps back; in order to make up for doing it once, you have to do a whole lot more of affirming to make up for it! This is to say that it isn't impossible to transition if you're very negative, but you will see more progress faster if you try to avoid it.

⊹˖ ⤑ Find a plural community to help affirm you. There are plenty of discord servers and tumblr communities centered around plurality. Find one and introduce yourself as a system -- not a "questioning system", not a "transitioning system", but as a system. This will help you affirm your identity more, as people will see and treat you as a system, and you can still ask for tips regarding helping your system form!

⊹˖ ⤑ Do research into different forms of plurality, how they manifest, and how they form! Do research into various -genic types, and see which one feels right to you. And if multiple feel right, you can always have multiple, or have different ones for different alters! You can find plenty of resources into helping you understand and mimic various ways of system creation if you know what to search for; try looking into endogenic systems, western tulpamancy, median systems, and seeing what you think might work for you! However remember that your system is your own -- It’s okay if you don’t have clear switches, distinct voices, or a headspace that’s easy to visualize. Many systems are subtle, blurry, or co-conscious, and none of that makes you any less of a system!!

II. Headmate Formation!

⊹˖ ⤑ When you first start off, it might be easier to notice different alters based on when your headspace changes (your actual mood and behavior -- not the inner world!). Don't force them, but notice them. Start by paying attention: any thoughts that might seem out of the blue, sudden shifts in your emotion, any habits that feel unfamiliar... Try to ask yourself if this is you or someone else! This is true for all systems, not just transplurals; I do this a lot when fronting to check if I'm alone in front.

⊹˖ ⤑ Give these changes names! It doesn't have to be a permanent name, but recognize them as a different person (or at least a different facet of you, if you believe in the "parts of a whole" formation). Over time, try to flesh them out; triggers can be things that put you into that mindset, interests can be things that you often engage with during that mindset, things like that! These are fragments, but they can form into full alters over time.

⊹˖ ⤑ When you recognize that this is happening, log it! Personally I use SimplyPlural ("SP"), but you can also use Octo-con (although SP is far more common, octo is mostly used by antis). You can also track this in any notes apps, journals, etc, communicate with alters, keep track of alters, organize alters, and more! Both are compatible with the discord app PluralKit ("PK") too. Some systems use Tupperbox, but I prefer PluralKit personally since it can easily be synced with SimplyPlural. You can use SimplyPlural on both mobile and desktop! I'll also be making a different post full of my SimplyPlural organization for those who want to get extra fancy with it, however this is just up to personal preference

⊹˖ ⤑ Try to communicate with your sysmate. At first you might need to put on a "mask" of sorts to do so, to try to give them a voice, but over time this will come easier as they settle in and find their own identity. You can do this also by letting them communicate with others; let them sign off on posts or messages they send with a specific "proxy" (either their name or an emoji), let them create a separate sideblog on Tumblr, let them use their own PluralKit or Tupper bot -- all of these are fantastic ways to help find what makes them them!

III. Fleshing out Fragments!

⊹˖ ⤑ The next step, once you've started to recognize fragments / facets, is to look into different types of alters. There are some common alter types that pop up frequently (please note that most of these descriptions are based in what they do for your system, but this may not be true of all alters of these types; along with this, there are plenty more not listed):

A) "Littles", which are children, usually needing cared for. These alters usually have the job of holding feelings of childhood, be it good or bad, and seeking out care and attention. Some systems have many of these; some have very few, if any at all.

B) Nonhumans, which can be animals or monsters. They usually hold feelings of being dehumanized, be it by reclaiming it or holding those negative feelings associated with it.

C) Religious alters are very common as well, be it an introject with a religious source, or an alter who believes they are a deity, angel, priest, demon, etc. These usually form to either help guide the system with religious endeavors, hold opinions and trauma about religion, or express some other facet caused by religion.

D) Introjects, which you've probably heard of if you're reading this. They can be from fictional media, internet personalities, friends, family, history, or anything else you can possibly think of. These are incredibly common, and often overlap with the above types, too! It is common for systems to have multiple introjects with the same source or source character, and it is also common for alters to form with the appearance of a character or person without actually being associated with their source.

⊹˖ ⤑ Some roles are more common in systems than others; the most basic are protectors, persecutors, gatekeepers, hosts, and littles. You can find a whole host of potential roles for alters on Pluralpedia, if you're looking for inspiration. There's a lot here; if you're trying to see if a term has already been made, then you can also join the Pluralpedia Discord Server, which has channels exclusively dedicated towards helping you find the system terms you're looking for!

⊹˖ ⤑ So, more on introjects -- the most common types are those which are sourced from a fictional character, content creator, or someone you know. But that's not actually all! Introjects can be sourced from ANYTHING that you get inspiration from. Locations, mythology, colors, songs, artwork -- anything you can think of! If you want specific words for every kind of introject, Pluralpedia has you covered for that, too; however the most common ones that I see are "fictive" (from a fictional media), "factive" (from a factional source), "godtive" (an introject of a god, also sometimes just labelled as an introject), and "songtive" (an introject from a song). Alters can also have multiple sources, so go absolutely ham!

⊹˖ ⤑ You need more inspiration for fleshing out alters? Go to Pinterest and look for artwork or characters that you like, and use those as inspiration and faceclaims for your sysmates. What shows or games do you like? Make your favorite characters that you relate to. You have OCs? Make them! I would also highly recommend searching through "Build-A-Headmate" (BAH) blogs, and seeing what fits your fragments! Picrew, Gacha, or other avatar apps can also be a great way to visualize your sysmates.

⊹˖ ⤑ Let your sysmates do things without your opinions or preferences seeping in as much as possible. This might be a sideblog full of only things they like, or maybe a Pinterest board exclusively for them, or their own playlist! A little can go a long way.

⊹˖ ⤑ Filling out their SP profiles, if you did that, can also help differentiate them as individuals! You can search for SimplyPlural templates for custom fields and folders, go to the SimplyPlural discord and view what people have shared in it, look at "OC templates" or "About Me" templates and see what people add to theirs, or anything else for inspiration! Like I said above, I'll be making my own post or doc of how I organize mine for those who want it.

IV. Headspace Creation!

⊹˖ ⤑ This one is a bit tricky, because it takes a lot of work. When you're first starting out, it might be best to make your headspace a place you know very well; maybe that's your house, your home base in a video game, or a fictional world that you have memorized very well. This can be changed and edited later, but it will help with visualizing it while you're getting started! Alternatively, it can be a small space that is incredibly simple; the important part is that you can try to imagine this space. I would highly recommend doing some form of mindfulness and meditation practices, as these will help you focus more and clear your head!

⊹˖ ⤑ Once you have that down, and you can easily and quickly imagine this space, you can start "editing" it. Don't rush this! While it may be very easy for some, it can take a long time for others, and rushing it will make you feel disheartened if it goes wrong. It's better to underestimate your abilities in this regard than to overestimate yourself! Try to add small details. For example, if your headspace is your house, try to imagine an object that you don't own in real life, and add it within your headspace. An example might be a lamp, a rug, or a stuffed animal; start small and simple. The next time you visualize or enter your headspace, see if that item is there. Try your best to visualize it as being there, until it becomes permanent.

⊹˖ ⤑ Once you can easily make edits such as this, you can start expanding the areas inside your headspace and make more major changes. This is where the fun part comes in! Your headspace can be anything you want, as long as you ease yourself into it. You can start the planning stage whenever you want, as long as you don't try to rush yourself with the process of fulfilling those plans.

V. Planning and Visualizing your Headspace!

⊹˖ ⤑ Okay, not that snappy of a title, but this is the fun part. Planning your headspace! I think Mindly is a great app for this if you're in the beginning aspects of planning -- finding out what areas you need, before actually linking them together or fleshing them out. Consider it a skeleton of sorts! You can also do this with common note-taking apps like Milanote or Obsidian too. Regular notes with a sort of "checklist" can be helpful, too.

⊹˖ ⤑ So, what areas does your headspace "need"? This is obviously up to you, but the basics include a "front room", individual houses or rooms for each alter, and a general lounging area. From here, you can go anywhere! A hotel, a campsite, a liminal space, a fantasy world, a college campus, a suburb -- all of it is entirely up to your system, and can be personalized (and changed)!

⊹˖ ⤑ Now that you know what areas you're trying to create, you can start visualizing it properly (or if you're not very fond of rough drafts, you can just skip to this step too, lol). The most common ways to make your headspace are with image dumps such as Pinterest boards, which are easily sorted and can have notes attached, or with proper building games, such as Animal Crossing, the Sims, Minecraft, etcetera depending on what kind of headspace you are looking for. Really, any worldbuilding simulator can work, so go crazy! If you're looking for fantasy maps, I can recommend Inkarnate; and if you can't find anything, you can always make a map from scratch on paper or with a drawing app.

VI. Other Useful Tips and Links!

⊹˖ ⤑ Transtrauma tips by @.neelacstraw

⊹˖ ⤑ Headspace / Wonderland tips by @.sophieinwonderland

⊹˖ ⤑ Transplural/DID/OSDD/etc Subs (Youtube)

[philativy]

No Doubts

To: The Considerate Human (gn!reader)

From: Luke, the Angel in Training (platonic)

IMPORTANT NOTICE FROM THE POSTMASTER, PLEASE READ BEFORE BREAKING SEAL: none! only fluff awaits you!

"Have a great marathon, you both! Please text or call me if you need anything." Simeon calls to you and Luke from his position by the door. His hand is wrapped around the knob, but he’s yet to commit to opening the great entryway. You sense some sort of trepidation on his part. "Remember, food and drinks are in the fridge, the bathroom is always open to you, the AC can always be adjusted—"

"Luke is with them. There’s no need to worry. Luke is mature, and they’ve done nothing but be hospitable. Let him return the favor." Solomon intervenes, nudging Simeon along. He doesn’t particularly care about being late to the meeting they were scheduled to attend — he was moreso trying to support Luke in his endeavors to be more independent. And that meant getting Simeon out the door.

Luke vibrates from embarrassment next to you, waving his hands in an ushering manner towards his guardian. "Stop that! We’ll be fine, you don’t need to hover!"

You smile indulgently. The exchange is reminiscent of a clingy father leaving their child at daycare for the first time.

You’ve only been an exchange student for a few months. Even with all the progress you’d made, you were still working towards forming proper bonds with the inhabitants of Purgatory Hall. You wanted to prove yourself trustworthy. And though you were certain you’d alresy reached that threshold with Solomon and Luke, the final test for Simeon would certainly be leaving Luke under your care for a few hours.

With some more prodding from Solomon, and hurried glances over Simeon’s shoulders, they finally make their exit. The door shuts behind them, the steadfast click of the lock ushering your movie marathon into motion.

Luke turns back you, a determined flame igniting in the cold blue of his eye. "Sorry about Simeon. Anyways, you said you brought some Human World DVDs, right? And that I’d like them?"

"Yep! I think so." You rise from your position on the couch, smoothing your pajama pants (fuzzy with Devilburger print) as you approach the DVD player. "At least, I loved them when I was your age. Or, ah… whatever the approximation of my age would be compared to you." Right. Luke is a hundreds-of-years-old child. Hard to believe.

You slide the tray out and slip the disc into its rightful place. Closing the tab, you retreat to your station and the cushions and reach for the remote. "They’re all from the same studio: Studio Ghibli. I thought a discerning kiddo like yourself could appreciate them." The television flickers to life, buffering momentarily before illuminating. "And you can keep the DVDs that we don’t get to tonight for later. As long as you return them."

"I will! I’ll take great care of them!" He promises, taking a gulp from his drink — a box of Hellfruit juice.

You laugh, tucking your legs beneath you and spreading a blanket wide enough to cover the area of your laps. Luke settles in at your side, squeezing a pillow close to his chest. His sandy brows are furrowed, but a small smile teases his lips. He’s excited to be doing this with you.

The details of the room fade into obscurity as you both become entranced by the tale portrayed by the bright screen. As the hours stretch forth, and the night whittles away, eyelids brow heavier. A nostalgic warmth embraces you both, beckoning you into rest.

12:23 AM.

Simeon and Solomon trudge to the front door, dazed in a mutual fog of lethargy and the aftereffects of an overly-technical meeting discussion. Solomon, stifling a heavy yawn, pushes the door open — met with the sound of quiet. He blinks once. Twice. Then he makes room for Simeon in the doorway, heading towards the living room.

Simeon shuts the door and looks on in confusion as Solomon. He hurries after him — assuming the worst. He almost runs into the Wizard as he comes to a swift halt. Simeon opens is mouth to chide Solomon for the sudden change of pace, but Solomon raises his hand. With a slight flourish of his hand, he beckons the Angel forward.

Simeon steps up beside Solomon, lifting a hand to his mouth with a sharp inhale.

And there you and Luke are, dead asleep. Luke lays with his head on the reliable comfort of your chest, his lips slightly agape. His cheeks, still soft and pink from youth, are squished against you. His arms, likewise, are tucked around you, whilst his feet stick awkwardly out into the open air.

You’re sprawled on your back, but your limbs have locked into what appears to be an instinctively protective huddle around the little Angel. Your arms cradle him, grip sturdy despite your deep slumber. Your brows are subconsciously furrowed, as though daring anything to disturb either you or the pajama-clad bundle in your arms.

Simeon holds in his adoring coo. He and Solomon approach, taking in the scene with unabashed glee. They trade a quick glance, both nodding to each other in sudden, reciprocated agreement. You will not be woken up. Absolutely not.

Solomon does his part, quietly gathering empty bowls and cups from the coffee table and whisking them over to the kitchen sink to be addressed in the morning.

Simeon turns off the television and reaches for a knit blanket, pulling over the both of you. He takes in Luke’s face — utterly comfortable and trusting beside you — and he knows he has made the right choice. He brushes back Luke’s unruly bangs and presses a kiss to the unblemished skin of his forehead.

He peers upwards and hesitates. Thinks. Then he leans in, ghosting a kiss on the crown of your head. Feather-light and tender.

He’s not sure why he ever had any doubts.

BONUS SCENE!

(groupchat with both Purgatory Hall & HOL)

Simeon: [one image sent] Simeon: look how adorable these two are!

Asmo: KYAA! so cute!~ <3

Levi: LOL maybe staying up for that meeting was totally worth it since we get to see this

Beel: they look cute. Like soft mochi.

Mammon: HA?? How come we don’t get a sleepover with ‘em and the chihuahua does?

Satan: Have you forgotten that they live with us? We practically have a “sleepover” every night.

Mammon: This is different! Maybe I oughta go over there n’ take them back myself!

Simeon: any attempts to wake either of them at that time will be met with severe and swift punishment, understand? ☺️

Mammon: …yessir.

dividers by @/cyberbeat, @/bronzewasp, & @/saradika-graphics

[havens-iphone]

── how mornings began ꫂৎ ; barista!megumi x reader

wc ⋮ 658

authors note ⋮ short lil story as an apology for going missing.. been lacking motivation💔💔✌️ BUT im back!! lmk if u catch my little how i met ur mother reference (im rewatching it for the 50th time heh) ANYEAYYY enjoy thehehehahah

you've just moved into a new town—stacks of unpacked boxes, mismatched set of utensils, and a quiet apartment that still smells like someone else. everything feels unfamiliar and quiet. a little too quiet for your liking.

you decide to take a walk, trying to get use to the new surroundings and environment. moving to a big city like new york was.. difficult to say the least. you were states apart from your family and knew absolutely nobody. lost in your own thoughts, your eyes drift across the street to a random coffee shop. you smile as you cross the street, hoping to meet new people in the shop.

you step inside, the air smells crisp and cinnamon-y. behind the counter is a guy with messy hair and a grin as if he already knows you.

you approach the counter, eyes browsing the menu. "first time here? he asks, not even waiting for you to speak.

you nod.

"then youre legally required to try the chocolate croissant. its in the town charter." he teased.

you laugh, maybe harder than you should, and order a chocolate croissant and a pumpkin spice latte. "i do love pastries. it better be legendary." he writes your name on the cup in careful block letters dotted with a smiley face at the end.

your eyes wander towards his name tag, megumi.

you thank him as you walk off, unable to wipe the stupid smile off of your face.

you start going there everyday—at first for the lattes, then for the way megumi teases and flirts with you. he remembers your name, the way you like your latte with oat milk, he remembers your love for pastries. he even starts recommending you pastries you never even knew you would enjoy.

it becomes routine. something your morning didnt feel right without.

then one rainy tuesday, he hands you your usual order. you peek at the neat writing on the cup. no smiley face just your name and beneath it, a text that reads,

"i cant stop thinking about you."

you pause, cup in hand, heart beating faster than ever. its subtle, sweet, undeniably him. by the time you look up, hes already taking the next order, pretending nothing happened.

you dont know what you'll say tomorrow, but you know you think about him just as often.

you spend the rest of your day thinking about that cup.

you tell yourself not to over analyze it, maybe he meant it in a friendly way—but you read the words again, carefully peeling the label off and sticking it on the cover of your notebook. just in case. just so you wont forget how it made you feel.

the next morning, you show up earlier than usual. the shop is quieter, just the low hum of indie music and the hiss of the espresso machine. megumi glances up, surprised—but only for a second.

he smiles like hes been expecting you anyway.

"youre early," he smiles warmly, already reaching for a cup.

"couldnt sleep," you reply. you dont need to tell him why.

he slides your drink towards you, same as always. no writing this time. just his hand lingering a second too long on your cup.

"about yesterday.." you begin, voice soft.

his smile falters—not in a bad way, more like hes bracing for something. you meet his eyes and suddenly youre not nervous anymore.

"i liked it," you say.

"the note."

a pause. the milk steamer hisses behind you like its holding its breath.

"yeah?" he says, and now hes not smiling. hes just watching you. really watching.

you nod. "i think about you too. probably more than i should."

that gets him. a quiet laugh, almost shy. his fingers drum the counter once.

“you could let me think about you properly,” he says.

“let me take you out?”

you smile as you bite your lip.

“tomorrow,” you say.

“and dont write it on a cup this time.”

[fedoraspooky]

Every once in a while I think about how glad I am that I was able to at least tell my dad how Kilroy ends while he was still around.

We were on a road trip together, and I told him the whole story I had planned, start to finish. Answered questions about the characters. Went into little details. He was so interested in everything, and was incredibly supportive.

In the motel room that night, I remember lying awake in bed, knowing he had health issues (though at the time I hadn't realized just how life-threatening they were) and that it would take years for me to finish the comic. I had just barely started it at the time. I remember being unable to sleep, realizing with dread that even if I updated every week, he may never live to make it to the end.

Now he's gone, and the comic's been sitting at Chapter 3 out of a planned 13 for a while. Years. Over half a decade by this point, I believe, since I last updated.

When illness took away dad's memory, and when it eventually took his life, I couldn't gather any strength to continue. He was a huge inspiration to me, he was always in my corner and a lot of my motivation to keep working on it came from him, and I felt like- fuck, I STILL feel like "if dad can't be here to see it, what's even the point?"

I feel an empty void now in the places where he used to be, and I feel like the wind in my sails died along with him.

...

But I know he'd probably want me to finish it. I still have the whole story thought out, and I have friends and family who wanna see how it ends. I still wanna see it, too. Even if he can't be there to read it...

And I'll try. I'll regather my strength and try to finish it someday. For him. And for myself.

But at the very least, I'm glad I could tell him all about it while I could.

[prettydaisygirl]

Feel free to tell me to stop whenever...

James, Athlete (Goalkeeper), 🌹SFW JLQ!

I literally just can't get enough of your stuff! 🤣

girl i'm not going to tell you to stop lmaooo send as many as you want!! it's a celebration for a reason haha go wild

🌹 rose (love, admiration, respect): Pick a character and an AU from the lists above, then choose 1-3 letters from the SFW or NSFW alphabet & I will answer them for you

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

James Potter, Athlete, and JLQ (SFW)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh boy is athlete!James jealous. He wants everyone to know you belong to him. You wear his jersey at every game, and of course there is no question it's his because he's the goalkeeper, his jersey is unique. He arrives to every game with his arm around you, and ends every game with his lips on yours, win or lose.

So, how anyone can think you're single is beyond him. But, it does happen. One day before a game, James is searching for you after warmups, already hot and breathing heavy. He sees you, and his heart soars like it always does. But then, his steps falter. One of the new cameramen is talking to you. You're smiling politely, hands clasped in front of you. You nod at whatever the man says, and James' jaw clenches when he watches the other man lean closer to you. He doesn't need to see his face or read his lips to know what he's saying. 'you know, doll, you're absolutely stunning.' or 'your eyes are gorgeous, love, did you know that?" The same lines James used.

James puffs up his chest, pushing his shoulders back and readjusting his headband. His eyes, normally more of a honeyed brown, are now like dark chocolate, hard as he slides up behind you and wraps his arm around your middle. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, hand rubbing circles over your stomach. "Hey, baby..." he'd say, and you'd instantly understand what was happening. He only calls you baby in the dead of night when the two of you are tangled in the sheets. The other man at least has the decency to look sheepish when James flashes his signature smile.

"Make sure you have your cameras on me tonight, yeah? I'm winning this one." James would say, and give the other man a cheeky wink. The cameraman would nod and instantly dash away. James would be smug and extra touchy/clingy for the rest of the night.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Children ADORE athlete!James. Not only have they likely seen him on TV, so they obviously idolize him, but James has this aura about him that kids love. That bright, sunny disposition of his leaves children feeling comfortable and safe around him, and James doesn't mind at all. In fact, it's not odd to find children climbing all over him like he's a very handsome piece of playground equipment.

And can you imagine him holding a baby??? swoon. His big arms and toned muscles from years of training are perfect for holding and cuddling little kids. Your baby fever acts up every time James presses a kiss to a little cheek.

PS: athlete!James wants a LOT of kids. Like... enough to have a team of his own.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Let's be so real, athlete!James is a bit of a himbo. He focused on athletics in his childhood, and he's had enough concussions for it to be worrisome (especially as goalie). So as much as I'd want to say he remembers everything about you, he definitely doesn't.

He'll forget things you'd expect him to remember, like your takeout order or which brand of tea you like. But he'll also remember things you definitely don't expect, like a purse you'd mentioned liking once in passing while the two of you walked through a shop, or your favorite childhood movie.

James loves you, and you know his selective memory isn't a reflection of how much love he has for you. Because even if he doesn't remember something (or even if he does), he asks. About everything. Sometimes it can get annoying but James wants to make sure he gets everything right always.

And if he messes something up? He's SO apologetic, showering you with affection for days even if you tell him that it isn't a huge deal.

He just loves you a lot, okay?

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[drtwit]

Miraculous Menaces/World On Fire Characters Meeting

Editing the next World on Fire chapter, I was thinking about the contrast between my two fics again, more specifically the characters meeting their alternate selves, and I realized that it'd basically be this:

WF!Marinette: I may or may not have had a hand in causing the end of the world, my lies tore apart the lives of everyone I care about, and my only constant ally is my nemesis who is a coin flip away from choking out innocent people. MM!Marinette: Wow, that sounds terrible. I don't know how I'd cope with that. I lost the miracle box, and I'm still struggling to manage it. WF!Marinette: Hey, if I've learned anything from my years of being Ladybug, it's that you're always gonna find dead ends. You just have to be willing to turn back and try another path. MM!Marinette: R-Right, I'll remember that. Thanks. WF!Marinette: You're a great Ladybug already, I'm sure. Just, uh, try not to become a control freak, okay? It never turns out well. MM!Marinette: *Writing this all down* Oh, yeah, one question? WF!Marinette: Shoot. MM!Marinette: How'd you deal with your drug addiction? WF!Marinette: ... WF!Marinette: Girl, you don't even have Monarch in your universe, what the fuck happened?!

WF!Gabriel: What is that outfit? MM!Gabriel: It's a suit, it looks just like the one you used to wear. WF!Gabriel: That is not a suit! You look like you're wearing pyjamas. At least unbutton it! MM!Gabriel: I'm supposed to take this from the man modelling for the 'Homeless Christmas Elf' collection? WF!Gabriel: It was the only material we had on hand. Besides, our future daughter- I mean, nemesis made it for me. It would be rude to throw it away. MM!Gabriel: Daughter? You have another child? Does that mean Emilie returns to us after all? WF!Gabriel: What? No, I was talking about- Never mind. WF!Gabriel: By the way, have you told Adrien yet? MM!Gabriel: About Mayura? No, I don't think that's quite any of his buisness. WF!Gabriel: Mayura? What happened with Nathalie? MM!Gabriel: What does Nathalie have to do with me kissing Mayura? WF!Gabriel: ...There is a lot to process there, but I was talking about if Adrien knows about Hawkmoth; about your mission. MM!Gabriel: Of course he knows about Hawkmoth, Chat Noir is my partner. WF!Gabriel: ... MM!Gabriel: Is he not in your univ- MM!Gabriel: *Gasp* What have you been doing to my son!? WF!Gabriel: ...I have a list, but I'm pretty sure I won't leave this room alive if I read it.

MM!Lila: What the hell happened to my face? WF!Lila: Believe me, it looks worse than it actually is. MM!Lila: You literally look like you decomposing. WF!Lila: Look, nobody said drinking demon juice was gonna be pretty- MM!Lila: Is that what that purple sludge thing coming out of you is? Why are you drinking that?! WF!Lila: It came with the butterfly miraculous, turns out it was cursed. MM!Lila: I get the feeling everything about you is cursed. WF!Lila: Hey, it's not that bad. It comes with perks. I get all these cool abilities, I can torture all the people I hate, there's some minor brain damage and a lot of voices in my head. It even came with a free Dad! MM!Lila: ...Please tell me that he's not the giant oaf in the dumb cowboy hat. WF!Lila: He's not bad once you get to know him! MM!Lila: Whatever you say. WF!Lila: Hey, it's better than having no family at all. How are those three mothers who pay you to stop bothering them? MM!Lila: It sucks, but at the end of the day, I'm famous, everybody loves me, I'm starting to trust regular people again, and I have a best friend who has my back no matter what. And I'm not a rotting corpse trying to end all of existence. What have you got? WF!Lila: ... WF!Lila: Have you slept with Adrien? MM!Lila: No? I'm not really attracted to hi- WF!Lila: HA! I win.

WF!Adrien: Do you need a hug? MM!Adrien: ...Do you need a hug? WF!Adrien: Sorry, it's just... WF!Adrien: You're working with Father in this universe, right? That can't be easy. MM!Adrien: Yeah, Dad can be a real pain sometimes. He's so embarrassing on the group chat. WF!Adrien: Father's on a group chat? MM!Adrien: With the other miraculous holders. Honestly, I think we opened Pandora's box. It's hard to eat dinner when he's sitting across from you, angrily ranting about a meme Ladybug sent him. WF!Adrien: Y-You have dinner with Father? Regularly? MM!Adrien: True, the small talk still needs work, but I'm just happy we seem to be healing finally. WF!Adrien: That sounds... nice. MM!Adrien: It's dangerous work, and we've both almost gotten killed... Mostly because I'm as reckless and impulsive as him. But it's probably the most we've ever bonded. WF!Adrien: I wish I could have gotten to see that before he died. Things were at the worst between us when he... When he and Marinette... MM!Adrien: Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound. WF!Adrien: It's fine. I'm happy to know that there's at least one universe where it seems to be working out for us. MM!Adrien: Hey, never say never. With all the crazy stuff happening, your Hawkmoth might get a second chance to make things right. WF!Adrien: Yeah, but the bigger miracle will be if he actually takes that chance. MM!Adrien: Pft, I know it. Even my dad is still a work in progress, and boy is he doing it under protest. WF!Adrien: Tell me that him and Nathalie are at least finally a thing. MM!Adrien: I've been trying, man! But he just won't budge on it, and now this dad-stealing-homewrecker, Mayura, keeps slobbering over him. I've been trying to beat her off with a stick, but there's only so much I can do! WF!Adrien: ... MM!Adrien: What? WF!Adrien: Can I have that hug now? MM!Adrien: I got you, man.

MM!Nathalie: ...Do I even want to know? WF!Nathalie: No, you do not. MM!Nathalie: Well, on my side, I got to kiss Gabriel, and I think Adrien might have called me mom. WF!Nathalie: I'm gonna go and find a cliff to jump off of.

WF!Alya: I've lost my best friend, had my face mauled by my teammate, my relationship is breaking down, I can't trust anyone any more, the world's gonna end and I'm gonna be akumatized by akuma satan and become a SIlent Hill demon. Literally nothing can be worse than this. *Turns to the left, spots MM!Chloe kissing MM!Nino.* *Turns to the right, spots MM!Alya flirting with MM!Volpina.* WF!Alya: This timeline was a mistake.

WF!Tomoe: This is unacceptable. MM!Tomoe: Oh my, is that how I used to look? WF!Tomoe: I'm a Tsuguri, I'm the leading mind in robotics and a cornerstone of the industry. The main villains are literally using my company to fund and develop all the technology for their master plan. AND I ONLY HAVE ONE CHAPTER OF SCREENTIME!? MM!Tomoe: *Sitting on her high tech throne with her eyes healed, youth restored, two kwamis under her thumb and an entire criminal organisation to command* I believe the common mongrels would call this a 'skill issue'.

MM!Gabriel: My mentor was a master swordsman. WF!Gabriel: My mentor was practically satan. By the way, if you ever meet anyone called Salvadore, do not take the risk; take them out. MM!Gabriel: I figured out how to weaponize words. WF!Gabriel: I figured out how to imprint memories onto objects; without even wearing my miraculous. MM!Gabriel: I repress my emotions so much that Gabriel and Hawkmoth manifest as two different identities. WF!Gabriel: So do I! MM!Gabriel: I dived headfirst into a floating minefield! WF!Gabriel: I got my arm crushed to mush on live TV! MM!Gabriel: You lost your arm? WF!Gabriel: ...I got better. MM!Gabriel: I almost have a loving relationship with my son! WF!Gabriel: I have a giant lizard-dog pet that attacks people with bad vibes! MM!Gabriel: Damn it! WF!Colt: Ladies, ladies; you're both pieces of shit. Get over it.

[clopinasworld]

Connor checking himself out in mirrors

+ Bonus

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

"Jason was the happy robin" this, "jason was the angry robin" that. Let's all be fully honest here Jason was the lonely robin

[myokk]

“She’s tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”😤😤😤

(Regency AU with Eloise and Sebastian inspired by my slow trek through Bridgerton these days & @bassicallymaestra ‘s AMAZING regency inspired art😮‍💨😇🙏)

[words-writ-in-starlight]

just saw ur post about the odyssey and how fucking cool your mom was about it and um. almost cried! i love her please let her know how cool she is next time you talk to her. or like. thank her for being cool about this specific thing, i guarantee it'll make her day. wahh i love it when a parent encourages the weird shit their kid is into, not every parent is like that!! that's just SO GREAT, man

My mother is THEEEEE biggest nerd I know and I'm seeing her in two days to play D&D so that I can try to kill her and my partners with vampires. I had to interrupt my Odyssey tirade on Christmas to tell her to wait with her LOTR rant to see if I covered her point (actually I think I said "give me a fucking minute, I'm making a point here") and she immediately cracked up and went "I am SO proud of you actually" and I think it confused my in-laws even more than the fact that I had an Odyssey tirade locked and loaded. When I was a kid she told me that if I didn't like LOTR then I had to lie to her for the rest of her life. She fucking rules.