#but because it has images it doesn't count that's not writing that's drawing

[arcaneyouth]

being a comic writer and then going into writing spaces is weird and confusing. a lot of the time it's lots of people focused on fanfic. so i go oh cool this isn't for me, so i go to original writing spaces (harder to find. btw.) and they talk about their writing process and all these relatable writer things and i realize i'm not really a writer. my form of writing isn't right for this group. i write scripts with descriptions of how the pages should be laid out, what brush to use, panel breaks, page breaks, only dialogue, in a format not meant to be read by anyone besides me, because the real writing will happen when i draw the page, but then it's not writing it's drawing. i make stories in my head with camera angels, pacing between panels and pages, breaking the established rules of a comic to make something new, and i call daydreaming about this writing (it's not writing). and i'm not really a writer in the same way. so i go oh, ok, this isn't for me, and then i go to original comic writing spaces except that doesn't exist that's just webtoon and then i go home because webtoon is the bane of all creativity

[love4myg]

early mornings

summary. when time seems to bend every morning and love speaks through tender touches and quiet reassurances.

────

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1k

content: yoongi and oc wake up in each others arms / they love each other a bit too much and they make it pretty clear / they kiss a lot :3

warnings: fear of abandonment (kind of? if you squint??), allusions to sex

notes: idk why i'm procrastinating the third part of 'stumble into you' so bad, but this is a result of me still wanting to write something. also, ignore the images at the top if they don’t go well together, i’m too lazy to actually put in effort today 😭 likes, reblogs, comments, and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i love you guys and i hope you enjoy <33333

main masterlist

────

Amber rays spill across the room, seeping between the gaps in the curtains and kissing your bare skin with its golden warmth.

Yoongi stirs under the sheets, attempting to untangle his limbs from you, who lay beside him. But your arms only tighten around him, and he quickly gives in to the comforts of your touch.

With your head on his chest and his arm secure under your head, he can't help the lazy smile that draws across his lips.

He's always loved early mornings with you; when neither of you have to think about anything else but each other; when time feels like it ceases to exist; when nothing else mattered, because why would it when you had each other?

You were his home; his universe; his first thought in the morning and the most frequent visitor of his dreams. Everything reminded him of you, and it was maddening. But he welcomed the longing with open arms, because he was a fool.

Because he knew that it was worth being foolish if it meant having you.

Yoongi places a kiss on your forehead, his lips pressing against a few strands of hair that lay messily across your face. The scent of your skin, faintly sweet like the lavender soap you use, lingers in the air as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, taking in the quiet of the morning, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. He moves his hand to rest over yours, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

He doesn't expect the gentle action to wake you, but your eyes flutter open. You hum, the sound quiet and laced with exhaustion as you stretch out your body.

Your eyes light up when you meet his gaze and the butterflies in his stomach erupt, fluttering around wildly.

"Morning," you whisper. You peck his lips with a soft kiss.

"Morning," Yoongi echoes. A faint blush paints his features, and a giggle tumbles from your mouth. Yoongi catches the sound with another kiss; then a third one that lingers for a few seconds longer than the others.

It is almost embarrassing to admit the effect you had on him. You've been together for years, and known each other for even more. He knows every dip and curve of your body and you have seen him through all of his highs and lows. Yet, a kiss from you still has him blushing.

"Missed me?" you tease, and he hums in agreement.

"A lot." He kisses corner of your lips and the curve of your jaw. "You're so pretty."

You laugh; a soft sound that rings through the air. It has always been Yoongi's favourite melody-the one sound that made his heart swell and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons to accommodate his growing smile.

He tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand stay to cup your cheek so that he can bring his lips to yours again. He’s addicted to the way your lips fit perfectly with his, and no matter how often he kisses you, it’s never enough

And you can't stop smiling.

The feeling that courses under your skin is almost overwhelming. It still feels surreal—that kind of love, where just being with him made the world right

The possibility of losing Yoongi terrifies you, but it's a fear that follows you everyday. Sometimes, you expect to wake up one day only to realise that this is all a cruel dream, or to find the house suddenly void of his belongings and his presence.

Sometimes, the fear creeps in before you can stop it, a quiet panic that gripped you in the space between sleep and waking. You’d reach out, half-afraid to find the bed cold and empty. But then, your hand would meet the warmth of his skin, and the fear dissolved into nothing. Because every morning, he's here. Solid, warm, and real, wrapped up in the sheets beside you. His sleepy eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the way he pulls you closer as if you’re his anchor—it’s all so undeniably Yoongi, and it makes your heart flutter with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

You press your forehead to his, noses brushing, as if the closer you hold him, the more real this will become. Yoongi's fingers trail lightly over your skin, tracing invisible patterns that make you shiver.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, voice raspy but tender, like he's always known your thoughts even before you speak them.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to find the words, but they dissolve on your tongue when his hand glides over your waist, settling at the small of your back.

“You’re here,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. It's a quiet confession of the relief that washes over you each time you wake up to find him still beside you. He smiles against your skin, a low hum of agreement in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice carrying the weight of every unspoken assurance. "You know that I'll always be right here-right beside you, whenever you need me."

For a moment, the world falls away. There’s no fear of loss, no dread of waking up alone. It’s just him, his presence grounding you, his breath steady and warm against your neck. The intimacy of the moment swells between you, a shared heartbeat that drowns out the rest of the world.

Your legs tangle beneath the sheets as he pulls you even closer, his hand finding yours under the covers. His touch is gentle, tender, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you, and in the glow of the early morning, you feel more connected to him than ever.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his skin seep into yours, feeling utterly safe in his embrace.

And in that moment, you know—this is home.

[atalienart]

@ianwaite replied to your post “Does Al also make you paranoid? Look at this...”:

Why do you assume that AI artists are not interested in their cause? What do you think of digital art?

​There are no Al artists, there are Al prompters. If you've ever been interested in something then you must know that the object of your interest is what really counts. You want to know more about it, you want to fully experience it. You want to be a writer, you sit and write, you develop your skills, find new techniques of writing and telling stories through written words. If you don't want to write, you're not a writer. You can tell stories but that doesn't mean you're a writer. You can have ideas but that doesn't make you a writer. If you tell another person or a machine to write you something you're not a writer. If someone else composes words for you, you're not a writer. You are not a carpenter when you tell a machine to make you a table in a rococo style. You're not interested in carpentry, you just want a table and want people to clap saying "wow, what a beautiful table, you're such an amazing carpenter" and then to buy it. This is what they're interested in. Al prompters are interested either in the technical aspects of Al, or the final "product" that can give them money or a pat on the back, or a short lasting pleasure of seeing their wife's head on a supergirl body. Tell me the difference between prompting and image searching? There is none.

What do I think about digital art? It's great and beautiful. Graphic programs artists use are another medium. Graphic programs don't lead your hand, don't magically pop images like Al. You draw lines with a stylus on tablet the same way you draw with a pencil on paper. Every medium has different properties. With oil paints you can do impasto paintings, watercolours react beautifully with water, Clip Studio allows you do draw on layers. There is no dark magic but Al prompters see a sped up, edited screen recording of a digital art proces and they think the drawing magically appears on screen without a physical input of the artist. They don't see work, just pats and some "product". I love digital art because it allowed me to share my art with other people much easier. I admire digital artists who can create amazing art pieces. I hope they won't give up when Al people constantly steal from them.

[mrpenguinpants]

Pale Blue Slumber [ Commissioned ]

[ Hello hello hellooooo, I was wondering if you could do hcs for Ayato x reader where the reader is constantly sleepy/sleep deprived and has a habit of falling asleep whenever, whether that be while standing up in the middle of a date or just straight up in the middle of battle ]

Word Count: 1.7k

Alhaitham Ver: Green Slumber  [Masterlist]

I nearly missed this if kofi didn't spam you with 10 emails. But thank you so much for the commission! I looked at it and almost didn't believe my eyes lol. Please let me know if I accidentally went under the word count.

If you see a sleeping figure slouched in the middle of the hallway, don't approach them and alert Lord Kamisato immediately. It's a saying that's been instilled into the estate and something every worker is told on their first day. Although the language used makes it sound like there's a dark secret that the Kamisato family is trying to hide. Perhaps a dangerous yokai or evil curse has been placed, and they don't want anyone to know? It would explain why Ayato has managed to rise and maintain his position as the Yahiro Commissioner despite being so young. Whispers and rumors bounce between the paper walls as people speculate just what this mysterious "sleeping figure" is and why Ayato alone can deal with the situation. Yet the answer is lackluster when they find out that it's just his lover who, once again, has fallen asleep standing up.

The image of the Yashiro Commissioner carrying a limp body in his arms is slowly becoming a regular occurrence and less of a cause for concern. The first couple of times, people rushed with medical supplies only to be met with a sharp eye and an equally scary smile for them to please quiet down lest they wake up the sleeping figure in his arms. Now people will quiet down once they recognize your hair and that it's you Ayato is carrying, and he offers them a nod of thanks. That's not to say the whispers stop because as soon as they see Ayato turns the corner, they're back to gossiping and gushing over how cute the image looks. The graceful and refined Yashiro Commissioner becomes a soft and kind family man as he cradles you back into a quiet room to sleep in. It doesn't matter how busy or stressed Ayato is, when someone alerts him that the "sleeping figure" has "returned", he'll politely excuse himself and leave. Any complaints are ignored that it would have to take the Shogun herself to make Ayato sit for a second longer. But only for a second.

You can't explain why you're constantly sleepy or why you will suddenly fall asleep whenever no matter the circumstances. Ayato likes to compare your sleepy nature to Sayu, but he does try his best to accommodate you despite his busy schedule. He knows that you get a bit insecure about your habit, so he tries not to draw too much attention to it when the moments happen. He remembers the early days when you and he were just acquaintances, and you fell asleep on him mid-sentence. The young Ayato has no idea what to do with someone who just fell asleep in the middle of a serious conversation that he thought you died from the pressure. It caused quite a commotion that Ayato still likes to bring up just to see you get embarrassed. But now, if you fall asleep mid-step, he'll easily scoop you up in his arms and carry on as if nothing has happened. If you happen to fall asleep mid-sentence, he'll gently lean you against his shoulder and continue your sentence. If anyone tries to ask why you've suddenly fallen asleep, he'll pretend that he has no idea what they're talking about. The person nestled into his side? What do you mean they fell asleep in the middle of eating? You must be mistaken because they've been asleep the entire time.

Due to your sleepy nature, you're constantly in a drowsy state. While Ayato finds you adorable, it also means you have absolutely no filter. Sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose because of how easily you can write off your mumbles as the aftermath of dreams. Saying the first thing that comes to mind only to pass out the next second and leaving him to deal with the embarrassing consequences. It doesn't help that Ayato is usually the first thing you see when you wake up, and regardless of how your eyelids droop halfway, he's pretty. Really pretty. It takes a clumsy hand to reach up, cup his cheek to pull him into a soft kiss, a remark that he's the prettiest person you've ever seen, before promptly passing out again. You aren't awake for the aftermath of a pink-faced Ayato desperately trying to reign in his racing heartbeat and Yae Miko snickering at him.

On the rare occasions that you're more awake and energized, you'll seek Ayato out yourself. It's always an endearing sight to see Ayato's usually calm demeanor turn elated when it's you that pops your head through the sliding door. Shyly asking if he wants to go out for lunch as if he'll say no to you of all people. Although Ayato is a person that does not like to show his face in public often, that doesn't mean he won't find any opportunity to take you out on these special days. Any concerns about his overbearing work are easily brushed aside. His work will be there when he returns. You, on the other hand, might not even be conscious enough to see the papers. He gets a huffy scoff and a gentle swat on the arm before you take his hand and pull your teasing man along. He ensures he has an arm wrapped around your waist, gently squeezing you into his side while you prattle on about how cute Taroumaru has gotten.

While Ayato and the staff have gotten used to your habits, that can't be said for everyone else. When you suddenly slump forward, quickly caught by Ayato's hand so you don't fall face-first into your food, Kiminami nearly passes out in fright that she might have accidentally killed Lord Kamisato's lover with her food. She has no idea if Ayato's smile and wave are a sign of reckoning and that is a signal that he's going to send someone to kill her later. It takes an hour, and even Thoma arrives to calm the poor girl that no, she didn't accidentally food poison anyone, and yes, this is a regular occurrence so please stop crying-

That's not to say every instance is funny. You are his lover and if there were numerous assassinations against him in the past and present, that means they'll eventually turn to you. Regardless if you're aware or not, he has his men trail after you silently to ensure your safety. So when Sayu nearly barrels into him to report that there's been a fight and you're in the middle of it, he can feel his blood turn cold as he rushes to the scene. His hand itching against the hilt of his sword as he follows Sayu into a clearing. Only to find you propped up against a spear, passed out in the aftermath of a battle unharmed. Like your body auto-piloted your slumbering self and parked itself directly in the middle of battle just to give him a heart attack. It takes a nudge at his leg from Sayu to snap him out of his stupor before he lets out a sigh that sounds older than him before he walks and collects you back into his arms. The comforting weight and warm body against his settle his heart just enough that he can think properly over his heartbeat. If his work doesn't kill him, you sure will.

Ayato stays behind the scenes for a reason. He knows your body can fall asleep at a drop of a hat regardless if your mind actually wants you to. There's a reason why you're not allowed in the kitchen regardless if Thoma is there with you. There's a reason why Ayato is the only one allowed to carry you back regardless if Ayaka finds you first. There is a reason why there is a rule set in place for no one to approach you. On one busy occasion, a stranger spotted you leaning against a wooden beam with papers for the Iradori festival in your hands. It made for a bit of a funny sight with how you managed to support yourself upright while also clutching flimsy papers was a mystery. But no one seemed to be waking you up and you were standing in the middle of the street. The stranger tries to call out to you but receives no reaction so he does the logical thing and reaches out to shake you awake. Too many things happen within the span of a few seconds. A male voice yells out for them to not touch you, the stranger's fingertips barely brushing against your shoulders before they're pushed to the ground.

When you first wake up, there are a couple of expectations you expect to see. Whether it be a ceiling, blankets, or the side of your pillow. It's always something constant that grounds you back into reality. Unfortunately the habit of falling asleep whenever your body feels like it has you waking up in unfamiliar places that your flight or fight instincts kick in before your mind even has time to see properly. So in order to combat this, Ayato has now become your constant. When you wake up to pale blue, you know you are safe. Yet when you wake up this time, it's too noisy and there's a stranger in front of you. So you do the first thing your mind registers and it's to run. Run to someone who has pale skin, light purple eyes, and pale blue hair. Thoma tries to call after you but when you don't turn around at his familiar voice, he lightly curses under his breath before turning towards the Kamisato estate.

It doesn't take long for Ayato to find you. He always seems to know where you are and he's always the first one you see. Pale blue hair contrasts the purple background with a kind smile to ease your heart back down to its regular pace. He can tell you're exhausted, more so than usual, as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your face. Fingers brushing aside the leaves and dirt that got tangled into the strands before dipping to rub circles into your back. Another hand comes under your knees and carefully lifts you up, tucking you under his chin as Ayato makes the trek back to the estate. The quiet command to sleep makes your eyelids droop again before finally closing peacefully. Your mind finally accepts it's safe again to sleep against pale blue.

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@letthewindlead @kluvr0 @k1y0kosdiary @genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @isa-solasun @afoxesgreed @yuuki4646 @angel-luv-04 @inlovewithwaffles @maddymints09 @moonssandstars @ieathairs @crypticbibliophile @cumbermovels  @totallynotaraidensimp @yurika1016

[astoundinglyhugespaceobject]

rewatching ATSV!!!!

i'm just gonna post the screenshots I think are pretty to here (I'm just starting it as i'm writing this, and I'm gonna be screen-shotting things I haven't really seen floating around before, so uncommon rarity ATSV screenshots from me???) i'll go from the drum scene to the scene right before the confrontation w the vulture

i LOVE LOVE LOVE gwen's drum scene so much. i'm prolly gonna use the picture above for my pfp

RAHHHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND HER COLORINGS AND AND

i'm sorry while I was pausing through the scene (its the scene where the collider is like about to explode and then it goes dark) that hobie pic made me laugh

this is genuinely so so beautiful. you can tell how much love the animators put into this movie ugh

do your guys's colliders ever just collapse... :(

mountain dew gwendy is so silly

i literally love all of their outfits so much RAHHH the mary jane's solo

gwen looks so silly right here, she's so me she's literally a silly goose

i cannot for the life of me remember the members's names but i love all of their hair and designs!!!

actions!!!!!!!!!

gwen has her nails painted!!! (or that's the colorings. could very much be either or)

i love her so much rahhhhhhh

oh yeah btw 65 Peter is literally me./j

that dangerous menace is a SILLY GOOSE. :)

the saying grace scene is sick and twisted I'm going to ruin my storage./hj so i'm just gonna like find the scenes with like silly things

BIRTHDAY GWEN!!!!!!! (also, great to mention, the grace scenes are AWESOME for figuring out gwen's general casual outfit style for art/drawing when you don't want to just use her main outfits)

whoever put Peter in the dinosaur costume is evil frfr./hj

christmas!!! (also uncle ben in the far right corner..) side note: I thought gwen's white square on her sweater was cake with trees and candles. I was like: "do people have ... cake for Christmas??" but no, it is just a pattern

dude pushing someone into a wall so hard that their glasses break is crazy.

the people saying hi to Gwen are the Mary Jane's members :(( (they do look very nice though)

OH NOOOOO

crying, peter was trying to take off gwen's mask to see her face one last time. EPRF&YEJVHIUHREHJBUEGIRJFUGREH

PETER NOOOOOOOO (and then there's captain george stacy.)

i love this movie so much ugh

eunyrignyriueht4erkltgherwkjwrgtf

i am a whole-hearted believer in trans gwendy btw to have a trans flag on a her dad (who is a cop)'s uniform is just like a telltale sign also I think 65 Peter is trans as well so it counts for both of them

gwen being nearly entirely blue in the otherwise pink apartment is eryniurtngireksv

gwen has freckles!!

she runs out of the panel so fast it doesn't have time to dissipate. crying

..and then everything goes downhill from here

RAHHHHHHH!!!!

also tumblr won't let me have more than 30 images on one post but the last one I was going to show was the protect trans kids poster screenshot, not because it's not been shown (because it definitely has for better or worse) but it just makes me happy :)

[eyelessfaces]

out of sight, out of mind

poe dameron x reader

this fic is the prequel to better safe than sorry. therefore it doesn't really matter if you haven't read it because it's a PREquel, but then you know what to read next :)

better safe than sorry masterlist

summary: saying that you're terrified at the idea of losing someone you love again is an understatement. poe dameron happens to be the most reckless person you know.

warnings: reader has trauma and ptsd, mentions of death, angst (I mean, a lot), mentions of injuries, alcohol consumption

tags: f!reader, absolute idiots in love, friends to lovers, poe is in love, reader makes questionable choices but she has trauma okay, poe is so very sweet in this and it has me screaming, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 7.1k (personal record for a one shot, wow)

huge thanks to @eatingyouryoung for beta reading and for motivating me, supporting me and most of all bearing with me and the multiple mental breakdowns I had while writing this. love you bestie, thank you, really. <3

masterlist | taglist | ao3

There are moments where it’s only those memories, only those flashbacks clouding your mind and filling up the space for any other thoughts in your head. It eats everything else and doesn’t leave room to breathe, it engulfs everything on its way.

It is impressive how just a few minutes can determine the rest of your life, it is impressive how fast it can eat up everything else that matters.

It can play in your head over and over again when it wants to, like somebody’s favorite holo movie, rewatched when you should be asleep after a long and tiring day, and sometimes you get flashes of it during the day, even if you’re busy and should not be thinking about something other than what you’re currently doing, as if the images were screaming at you that hey, they existed.

You knew all too well that they existed, and for some obscure reason, you didn’t want to forget them. 

You should want them to fade away, to disappear completely, to vanish into oblivion until nothing is left of that day, but something inside of you sticks there, holds onto those few minutes and doesn’t want to let go. 

You don’t want the images to shatter into pieces, you don’t want it to be pooling at your feet like something you know you’re never going to be able to put back together. You don’t want to let go of it, you don’t want to let go of your last memory of her.

These moments aren’t present really often, at least not as much as before, but when they are they’re omnipresent and always remind you of how afraid you are at even just the thought of losing someone again.

Right now is one of those moments, the images play in the back of your mind again, it has become a regular occurrence for them to manifest themselves at the least convenient moments. Maybe Jess was right, maybe you should go see a professional so they could help you manage the manifestation of those memories.

The only thing faintly keeping you connected to reality is Poe’s voice mixing with the scene inside your head as you watch him speak, and even though it’s muffled and his words are barely distinguishable, it’s your only anchor, and you know that if you focus hard enough, it will bring you right back where you are, in the briefing room where he’s explaining everything concerning how the previous mission went and how things could have gone easier for everyone, tactically speaking. 

You do and it works, and you’re back just in time to catch Poe’s gaze sticking to yours, a small wink directed your way drawing a wide and foolish smile from you before he looks away, leaving a heat creeping up your cheeks. 

You’re barely able to focus for the rest of the meeting because of that simple thing, making it so you haven’t listened to any of it at all. 

He dismisses everyone, chatter filling the room before it emigrates out of it, and you wait for him to be done talking with someone and he joins you.

“Hey” he smiles, walking out the room beside you, his arm wrapping around you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asks as he tilts his head to take a look at your face.

You hum positively, or you hope it sounds positive, and you look up at him with a small smile to prove your point. “Just tired” you shrug.

His lips pinch in a compassionate smile, and his hand shifts from your shoulder to bury into your hair. 

"Wanna come over tonight?" he asks cocking an eyebrow. "Just you, me, a bottle and my quarters"

"Is it really that obvious that I'm not feeling well?" you ask stopping in your steps with a small sigh, looking up at him.

He snorts, shrugging. "Obvious I don’t know, but I know you better than yourself" he chuckles, his hand shifting to your arm so he can squeeze you against himself. "So is that a yes?"

"It sure is" you smile, and he mirrors it before leaving a kiss at the top of your head.

—

Your eyes are watery from the alcohol, and you can feel the dizziness starting to manifest itself as you can see that your vision is slowly starting to delay like a screen's bad frame rate.  

"So" Poe starts, taking the bottle from your hands. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks finally coming to the subject you've been thoroughly avoiding before, taking care of telling him about your day. 

He brings the bottle to his mouth, frowning at the small shrug you offer him in response. He swallows the liquid as he raises his chin at you, handing you back the bottle. “It’s fine if you don’t, but you know that I’m always here if you need someone to lis–”

“It’s her death. The memories of it”

“Oh” his eyes soften, and he shifts closer to you, still sitting crossed legged on his bed.

“They’re less and less frequent, but when they resurface it’s all there is” you pinch your lips, a single nod showing that you’re accepting your fate despite how cruel it is. "And it's still so vivid, I still remember it like it was yesterday. Everyone loses people they love in this war, and it's almost been two years and yet I can't move on" you chuckle before drinking from the bottle, wincing at the strong taste of the drink. “I feel ridiculous”

"No one does" he nods, raising his eyebrows in a reassuring way. "No one moves on" he declares, taking the bottle from you when you hand it over. "You learn to live with it, but you never really move on." He watches as you chew on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “And this is not ridiculous at all.” he tilts his head to emphasize, putting the bottle down on his nightstand.

His hand reaches for yours, and you let him hold it. It feels warm, and his touch feels comforting, and you can feel your heart beat faster when he starts running his thumb back and forth on the back of your hand. “My mom died when I was eight, I’m a grown man and I haven’t moved on and I never will. I just had to learn to live with it.” You look up at him with compassion, but you also feel worried at the thought that it’s probably going to be a long, long way before you can recover from this experience and everything else it involves.

“But the fact that you lived and saw it makes it even harder, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for feeling stuck.”

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose maybe a bit too hard, as if you were trying to squeeze the images out of you. 

"I watched her die in front of me, she was right before my eyes and I had to leave her there" the words leave your mouth in a hurried and panicked, trembling plea, throat burning with the tight knot that only seems to get bigger inside as your words remind you of the moment in question, just as if you were there again, anxiety starting to loom menacingly over you again.

A soft exhale leaves Poe’s mouth as his expression turns into one of helplessness, and he gently pulls your body to his so you both lay down on the bed as he holds you close to him, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. 

"I know baby, I know" he whispers, pressing gentle kisses to your hairline, trying to ease your trembling and labored breaths.

You’re not crying, you can’t, you feel so full yet so empty.

—

The ringing, high pitched sound in your ears doesn’t help your current state of tiredness and the growing migraine slowly but surely beginning to anchor into your head, and you can soon feel a throbbing pain hammering into your skull.

It’s fairly late and everyone on base is back to their quarters and for the most fast asleep, save for the ones like you still focused on work. You should get some sleep, you need it, you crave it, but you refuse to leave the empty room before you're done filling your report, wrapping up the paperwork session you've been at for two hours now.

You almost drop your datapad at the sudden feeling of hands over your shoulders, a shuddery gasp slipping from your mouth. It wakes you up a little, your current fatigue making the effect of surprise even more intense, your heart thrumming into your ribcage and reverberating inside your whole body.

The momentary panic fades away when Poe walks around to the desk in front of yours, revealing that it's only him as your eyes follow him as you're trying to catch your breath, a relieved smile growing upon your face. You haven’t seen him since yesterday, both of you drowning under a crushing pile of work. You feel awful when you remember the state you were in, but you also remember that it’s Poe so he doesn’t mind and above all, he’s not one to judge.

"Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you" his lips quirk in a soft smile as both of his hands grasp onto the back of the chair in front of you.

"S'okay, I just didn't expect any visit this late. Why aren't you sleeping?" you ask as you put the datapad down on the desk, looking up at him as you sink back into your chair, crossing your arms. 

“Why aren’t you” he asks as he cocks an eyebrow, almost as if accusing you of the same crime.

You sigh as you raise your eyebrows, taking a hold of the tablet you put down not too long ago. “Well Leia will kick my ass if I don’t fill out all of this, and she kinda scares me when she gets mad, so I’m stuck here until I’m done with paperwork”

“I don’t blame you for that” he snorts. "Need some company?" he asks as he pulls the chair from under the desk.

"I'm almost done but sure" you declare, pointing your hand towards his chair to offer him to stay with you.

He sits down, a slight clinking sound resonating through the empty room when he puts his feet up on the desk. 

You dive back into work, and he would have so many things to tell you about his day but he knows that you're desperate to finish what you're doing so he instead just looks at you, drinking in any movement of yours, even the littlest, admiring the way you look when you're focused, smiling at the way you bite down onto your lip in concentration all while he absent-mindedly fiddles with the ring attached to the chain around his neck.

It doesn’t take too long for you to finish your work and for Poe to escort you back to your quarters, finally getting to tell you about his day while on the way. 

You’re disappointed when you see you’re already there, and if you weren’t so tired you would have invited him inside so you could keep chatting. 

“You still haven’t answered my question” you say as you stop in front of your door, turning on your feet so you could face him, stopping him in the middle of his story about BB-8’s checkup.

“What question?” he frowns, a confused expression taking over his face, lowkey nervous that he forgot about something important.

“Why you’re not asleep.”

“Oh. I was revising details for tomorrow’s last minute mission" he nods as he crosses his arms, leaning his side against the wall.

“Last minute mission?” you repeat, your eyebrows slightly rising in curiosity.

He nods as he pinches his lips. “I’m leaving for a few days. Our contact found something interesting about the First Order, and I have to see this with my own eyes” 

“Be careful” you nod once, the inner corner of your eyebrows angling up in worry, and he can see in your eyes that you’re pleading him. He’s not the most cautious recruit on base, far from that, but he knows what’s good for his cause, even if he sometimes has to pay the price, but you also happen to be more important than his constant desire for recklessness. 

“I will, promised. Goodnight sweetheart.” he smiles softly as he stands in front of you.

“Goodnight Poe.” He turns to his feet, ready to leave, but you grab onto his wrist before he can. He turns to you, eyebrows raised, awaiting anything from you. “Thank you for yesterday. I really needed someone to talk to.” you nod, with a tired but genuine smile.

He smiles back at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling softly.

He leaves a quick kiss at your cheek before leaving, and you wait for him to be out of sight to finally go inside your quarters, and you can’t tell if the sigh leaving your mouth is one of longing or relief.

—

You’re sprinting through the base hallways, and even though it’s really not an uncommon thing to do there, you feel stupid for being in such a rush hoping that he isn’t gone yet. 

Once you arrive in the hangar, catching your breath, it is flooded with orange jumpsuits, making it hard to recognize anyone if they’re not directly facing you, but you just happen to spot the little droid that indicates that Poe’s not far away.

Poe’s eyes light up when you approach and he realizes you’re here to say goodbye, and you shake your head as you walk up to him, almost sprinting once you’re close.

“You do anything risky, I’ll kill you” you threaten as you throw yourself into his arms, the end of your sentence muffled against him.

“Okay. Where's my goodbye kiss?” he asks as he lets his hand rest at the back of your head, and he smirks when he hears your muffled chuckle.

“if you come back without a single scratch,” you start, pulling away from the embrace, looking back at him. “You’ll have a welcome home kiss.” 

His right eyebrow rises in interest, and a sly smirk grows over his face. 

“Now that’s an interesting deal.”

You point a finger to his chest, the tip pressing against it, your head slightly tilting to the side, looking right into his eyes.

“Not.” you push your finger deeper. “A.” deeper again, and—

“–Scratch, yes.” he completes your sentence, taking a hold of your hand, closing it into a fist and pressing it against his chest.

“That’s right. I’ll check” you tease, your other pointer finger pressuring him.

He snorts, “I’d love to show you every single part of my–” his voice quietens as he suddenly looks down at his feet, at the circular droid nudging him. “Yeah buddy” he looks back up at you. “I should get going”

“Alright. Goodbye handsome, be careful” you smile, and he bites down on his lip as he lets go of your hand before starting to walk backwards. 

“You gave me a reason to be, I will be” he shouts from a distance, pointing back at you as he walks away, towards his ship. 

—

The few days he had announced to be the time where he would be gone transformed into a whole week, and though you were busy every night either with work or with friends, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing at random moments of the evening. 

Thankfully feedback from coms said that everyone was okay and that the mission was going exactly as planned, so your state of worry was greatly diminished.

You still couldn’t stop thinking about him and you hated yourself for being so attached to Poe Dameron, but at the same time how could you not when he acted the way he did around you.

You were walking around base with friends when you heard word from a passing group of people that Poe’s squadron had gotten back from their mission, and even though it was getting late and you could wait see him the next day or whenever you would run into him next, the curiosity and apprehension to find out whether he had gotten injured or not took over you.

You apologized to your friends for having to leave them, and hurriedly made your way through the base to join the hangar.

Once you arrive there the scene in front of you is pretty much the same as when you joined Poe before he left; a sea of orange figures, ships on the ground, metallic sounds and indistinct chatter filling the room. 

Poe sees you before you see him and rushes towards you, a sly smirk over his face as he sprints across the hangar, and the moment you finally see him is the exact same moment you want to warn him about the ship wing that’s about to– 

It hits his head with a loud thud.

A yelp that quickly transforms into a groan escapes his mouth, both of his hands covering and pushing against the area of impact as he momentarily curls up on himself in place because of the sudden pain. 

Your mouth is gaping in shock before you sprint to join him.

“Fuck are you okay?” you ask hastily, a nervous chuckle leaving your mouth as your hand rests at his back while his eyes are shut tight, his hand grabbing onto your arm.

“Yeah I’m okay, I’m okay” he nods, his other hand still clinging onto his forehead. He sighs a curse word under his breath, shaking his head as he frowns before he snorts.

“I was uninjured before this.” he chuckles as he looks at you, a skeptic smile over his face. “Not a scratch”

“Mh? Well that’s too bad.” you tease, putting your hand over his shoulder. “Come on, medbay.”

“No no that’s fine I’m o–” 

“Nuh uh I don’t wanna hear it, we’re going to medbay” you insist, pulling onto his arm, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head towards the direction of interest.

Poe reluctantly goes to medbay with you, the medics check him up rather quickly, and everything turns out to be okay; you only have to stay there sitting face to face to hold a cold pad to his forehead to prevent a bump from appearing.

“So, how’d the mission go?”

“Great. Couldn’t have been better. Got into some ambushes but we crushed them” he smiles. “And not a scratch, nothing” he nods proudly.

“See, you can make efforts when you’re interested in the promised outcome” you chuckle, shifting in place so you could get a better position to hold the pad over his forehead. 

He winces, “S’cold as fuck”

“That’s the point” you huff out a laugh, and he smacks your thigh playfully in response.

“So” he starts, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. “Can I get my price?” he asks, a sly smirk growing over his face.

“...I don’t know” you hum, a fake skeptic expression over your face. It’s hard to refrain from smiling when you see his semi-pouty face, “You technically didn’t respect the conditions.”

“What? It shouldn’t count!” he starts bargaining like a child that has been wrongly accused for something their sibling did, and you huff out a small laugh seeing how he reacts to you simply teasing him.

“I mean, you got hurt” you shrug.

“The mission was over”

“I told you to come back uninjured, mission or not, or else what's the point”

“Fair enough, but you didn’t specify beforehand”

“Well, now you know” you say, a small exhale leaving your mouth when you get up from your seat, and Poe doesn’t waste any second to follow you, tossing the cold pad onto the nearest surface.

“Alright, okay, but now I want a second chance at this so it’s fair game” he bargains, following you closely when you exit the medbay.

"Alright, alright" you agree as you turn back to him. "Come on now, you need to rest" you turn to your feet again, towards the hallway extending before you.

He remains standing in place when you start walking again, just looking at you and pondering. It takes him a few seconds before he catches up and joins you again, walking by your side.

The both of you are silent for most of the walk to Poe's quarters; it's pretty uncommon for Poe to remain quiet for more than thirty seconds, and it has you thinking.

"You really want your kiss, huh?" you ask rhetorically, stopping in your steps and turning to him once you're in front of his door.

He pauses, and takes a look at you before answering. "Of course I do" he chuckles, and you nod as your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

Poe barely has time to process you getting substantially closer to him before you grab the collar of his flight suit and put your lips over his, gently pushing him against the wall. 

The quarter of second it takes for him to fully be aware of what's happening leaves him sighing against your mouth, and once he's sure that it’s all real, his hand cradles the back of your head, pulling you even closer. 

His other hand rests at your hip, your own hands leaving his collar and resting at the back of his neck, and low hum vibrating against your mouth when your fingers bury into his short curls there.

You pull away just for a second before he yanks you towards him, kissing you back with even more vigor.

His lips are warm and pressed tight against yours, the heat of his body feeling omnipresent even though you're the one caging him.

You smile at the sight of the starstruck expression left over his face when you pull away, and your heart sinks at the way his warm eyes look at you. 

“I was messing with you, I always keep my promises” you tease with a grin as you start to back away, your hands behind your back, giving him space again.

“Admit it, you didn’t want to be kind to me, you just wanted to do it” he smirks, a teasing tone in his voice before he bites down onto his bottom lip. “You wanted to kiss me”

You smirk back at him, shrugging before turning onto your feet and leaving for good, retracing your steps.

Poe stares at you leaving until you're out of sight, and he can't help but smile to himself when he enters the code to his quarters, still not fully believing what just happened.

You, you should feel overjoyed, but you can’t help but acknowledge that bittersweet feeling starting to get to you as you’re walking back to your quarters and being faced with reality again, your mind starting to overfill with too many thoughts; you’re getting too attached. 

—

You toss and turn in your bed, and all you’re able to do instead of sleeping is hating yourself for kissing Poe, for certainly making him feel like this meant that you were ready to give him what he had been wanting from you for so long.

You do have feelings for him, and that’s where the problem is; you can not love anyone, and certainly not someone as reckless and impulsive as him, not someone you could lose technically so easily. 

You can’t go through this again, you know you wouldn’t be able to carry the weight of his loss.

Maybe it’s selfish, maybe you’re making the biggest mistake of your life – no; you’re sure of that – but you’re also sure that you wouldn't be able to handle enduring this again; the simple thought crushes you.

You toss and turn in your bed, and while Poe is certainly delighted of what happened, you hate that you’re going to have to distance yourself from him because you fucked everything up.

—

It has been a week since you and Poe had kissed, and it seemed like you were thoroughly trying to avoid him ever since, hurrying out of the room after every briefing, taking advantage of the crowd and of the people wanting to talk details with the commander. 

You happened to never eat at the same time as him anymore, and you were nowhere to be found when he looked for you in places he knew you would usually be.

Poe was left confused, and even though he had a lot of work and technically other things to think about, the fact that he couldn’t catch you to talk even just for five minutes was bothering him and leaving him wondering if he had done something wrong, especially with what happened last time.

He had thought this kiss would change things between you, would lead you somewhere and that he would finally get what he had wanted for ages; you.

He knew it was no coincidence that you wouldn't stop ignoring his presence, that you wouldn't maintain eye contact through the briefing room for more than two seconds; that you wouldn’t run into him anymore; he knew he had been just a fool, too stupid to think that this could lead him somewhere, lead the both of you somewhere, that you would feel the same way he felt for you.

—

You took it as a sign that your friends had understood something was wrong when they practically dragged you to go get some drinks, and while you weren’t particularly in the mood to do that, you had to admit that you needed some distraction.

You needed to be busy in order to avoid thinking too much, to avoid getting too deep into your own head, because you knew that if you did you would break.

And the distraction technique actually works; you’re having a good time, chatting and laughing, forgetting about everything else going on besides that, and it feels really good, the illusion feels good.

There comes a time when you start to feel the drinks you’ve downed, the slight drunkenness starting to manifest itself as well as your need to pee.

You're still in a pretty good shape, drinkingly speaking; you're not fully drunk yet, just tipsy – the feeling is still pleasant, and you just have to stop for a second to maintain balance on your feet when you get up from your seat to join the cantina's bathroom.

The room is empty when you go and lock yourself into a stall, and the muffled music gets clearer when a group of people enter the room seconds later, their loud and high pitched laughs almost fully covering the sound of the loud music before it gets muffled again.

“So” one of the girls starts as she recovers from her laugh, “How’d last night end?” she asks, and the question elicits curious gasps from the other girls of the group.

“Yeah, we didn’t see you after you left the room with Commander Dameron” another girl teases, putting emphasis on the rank and last name, and your eyes widen at the sound of that.

Well. Try to forget about something and it’s shoved into your face right back away.

This catches your interest nonetheless, and you make sure to wait a little before you wipe yourself, not wanting to miss a beat of the conversation.

"Well," another girl starts, the girl who you assume is the girl who left the room with Commander Dameron. 

"We were both drunk and it was sloppy but damn is he good at it” she declares proudly, a fit of giggles filling the room.

Oh.

She's talking about something else, right? 

This can't possibly be, right?

Right?

"No way you slept with a commander, Jana. This is like a special success, something to check off a list" one of them chuckles.

"Sure did." Jana replies, and this is cliché and a bit not-feminist but you can just imagine her putting another layer of gloss on her lips.

Fuck.

It's with a half lie about not feeling well that you leave your friends and go home to your quarters, trying to repress the tight knot in your throat when you don’t even bother to change into your sleeping clothes and curl up into your bed.

—

The next briefings after that are awkward and feel delicate, and even though they already were before, you now can not look at Poe without internally wanting to scream and break something.

You hurry out the room faster than before if it’s even possible, and you need to be constantly distracted and busy with something in order not to think about him and all of your current situation with him.

You make your way out of the seemingly way-too-busy room once more, apologizing as you slalom through the crowd of people, an exhale of relief escaping once you get some relatively fresh air in the hallway.

“Hey” your heart jumps when you recognize Poe’s voice as he grabs your arm, and you sigh softly when you’re forced to turn to him. He must have disregarded everyone’s questions to exit the briefing room that quickly. “Why won’t you talk to me? Why do you barely even look at me?” he asks, and his voice slightly cracks at the middle of his sentence. He’s not fully scolding you, he genuinely wants answers.

A soft exhale leaves your mouth, and you can feel and hear your heart starting to beat fast in your ears.

“Did you sleep with Jana?”

The question is dropped like a bomb, and you know it’s going to have the effect of a bomb no matter what happens – it’s going to destroy everything, but at this point there isn’t really anything left to lose, nothing left to save either, it’s all doomed.

You already know the answer, you already know he’s going to respond positively because he’s an honest man and definitely not a liar; it’s something you have always appreciated in him.

“I–” he is speechless, and his mouth is gaping, trying to come up with anything to say though he knows damn well what he has to say if he wants to be honest with you, even if it’s going to ruin everything, until– “Yes.”

You expected it, and yet it still hurts. 

You had secretly hoped that the girl in the cantina bathroom had made that lie up to impress her friends, and you deep down knew she hadn’t, but you somehow buried yourself deep into denial, thinking that hoping otherwise would somehow manifest the truth to be different.

“I can’t wait for you forever. I don’t want to.” 

Immediately and like a reflex your eyes close, your lips pinch and you nod, trying to ignore the sick feeling bubbling inside your chest though it’s impossible. 

It hurts, everything hurts, nothing will ever be the same with him and it’s entirely your fault, you brought it upon yourself.

He’s not yours after all, and you made sure of that, so you shouldn’t be upset, you shouldn’t feel your heart sink. It’s not legitimate.

“You know that’s not what I meant” he starts again, the inner corner of his eyebrows angling up in compassion when he sees your reaction. “I could wait for you forever.” he nods, a bittersweet smile over his face. “But you’re making me feel like a fool. I don’t want to feel like a fool forever” he nods one last time as his lips pinch to repress something, and you can see his eyes glistening a bit, and your heart aches at the sight.

You bite down on your lip trying to contain your frustration, or your growing state of misery; you’re not sure, and all you’re able to reply is just–

“Okay.”

It’s bland, cold and dry, but it’s truly all that can come out.

You don’t have the heart to bargain and beg for your cause, and it would feel unfair and dishonest for him anyways.

“I’m sorry” Poe immediately says, and you feel bad that he is the one to be sorry, that he feels like he is the bad guy in that whole story when all of this is entirely your fault.

“No, no, I am. I get it” you try to reassure him, forcing a small smile out of you, still trying to make it seem like you’re doing fine, though you know there’s no use trying to when he knows you so well. 

You can’t stay here any longer or you will break, and you don’t have anything left to say anyways, not when you know it probably has to end that way.

You leave as fast as you left the briefing room earlier, and Poe feels sick when he watches you go, feels the need to puke when his head somehow fills with every memory you’ve ever made with him.

You’re glad your back is facing him when you have to frantically wipe away the single tear rolling down your cheek.

—

It feels strange not having Poe in your life anymore, at least not properly; and it's probably worse that way, the fact that he's still around and that you're still often being confronted to each other, forced to pretend not to care about each other.

It hurts that he's now back to being "just" a commander to you, a colleague, that you're both back to being basically strangers, that the eye contacts don't linger anymore and just leave a bitter feeling lodged inside your chest when they used to leave butterflies in your stomach.

Your heart aches every time you catch a glimpse of him, and it’s hard trying to stay focused when you work around him, go on missions with him. 

You feel terrible for what you’ve done to him, you feel sick that he feels like he's been played with when all you wanted to do was protect yourself, you feel bad that he has to be collateral damage. 

You truly hope he doesn’t hate you, and you think that this might be your biggest fear.

That the only man that has ever truly believed in you, that the man that you love could hate you, even if he has all the reasons in the world to and you wouldn’t blame him if he did. 

Now is not the time to think about it, because you've been assigned and sent on a mission with him, and you're kinda thankful it's not the kind of mission that only requires two people and you just happen to be paired with him – you're thankful people are with you for this one.

It should be an easy mission, you just have to get something back.

A smuggler had stolen something that was supposed to get sent to the Resistance, but the guy happened to be tougher and more skilled than expected, and the logical solution to get back up on this was to get the Resistance itself.

You’re making your way through a quiet alley bathed in darkness, following the target from a distance, observing each of his movements to calculate how you could get an opening so you could get to him and steal – no, get back what’s yours.

Your group has split up, everyone trying to join the guy from different points and accesses across the area. 

If all goes well you can surround him in case you don’t have the opportunity to attack before, and technically he shouldn’t be able to get away, at least not until you have taken back what he has stolen.

You're doing pretty good so far, the guy hasn’t noticed he is being followed, so you have been able to gradually get closer and you're so close to being able to attack and if you could just shoot him in the leg and get back what's yours–

You're suddenly and abruptly yanked out from the main alley, and even before you can react at what’s happening and scream in surprise and fear, a hand pushes over and blocks your mouth, the other hand wrapping tight around your waist, your back pressed flush against your assailant's chest as their own back rests against the wall of the small, secluded alley you’ve been pulled in.

Your eyes look around in fear, your head unable to move, blocked by the strong hand covering your mouth; you want to scream, trying to wriggle out of whoever's grasp you're trapped in, panic starting to creep up your chest, until–

"Calm down, don't panic, it's only me." the soft and gentle whisper of Poe's voice in your ear makes you relax in his grasp, waves of relief washing over you. "He knows that we're following him, he was waiting for you to get closer to trap you" he explains, and you start to loosen up when his hand leaves your mouth and he lets go of you. “Sorry I scared you”

“Thank you” you nod as you face him, your hands resting over your knees as you catch your breath from the sudden rush of fear and adrenaline.

Your eyes widen and you look back at Poe when you hear a fight starting not so far away from where you are, shouts and sounds of blasters firing.

“I’ll go” he declares, hastily taking off his jacket. “Stay there and keep this for me, will you? You were shivering while I was holding you” he smirks teasingly, throwing you his leather jacket.

You chuckle as you catch and look down at the piece of cloth, and he waits for you to put it on to shoot you a smile before leaving, not even giving you time to beg him to be careful and not do anything stupid.

At least you’re now certain that he most definitely does not hate you.

—

Poe is sitting in the grass on a hill not so far away from base, looking up at the starry sky, just enjoying the fresh air of D'Qar. It feels nice after the particularly busy and tiring day he just had, his muscles still sore and tense from the mission, especially the muscles joining his neck and shoulders. 

“Hey” the sudden sound of your voice tears him out of his thoughts, and he even thinks he hallucinated it before he turns to you.

“Hey” he pinches a smile as he looks up at you.

“I wanted to give you your jacket back” you say as you look down at the jacket you’re currently wearing, and you must admit that you’re a bit reluctant at the idea of having to give it back – it smells just like him, a mix of his natural comforting scent and his aftershave, and it feels like the closest you’ve ever been to him in your life.

“Oh. No need to, you can keep it, you look good in it” he smiles wide, and you scoff softly.

"Alright. Can I?” you ask, referring to sitting down next to him.

“Hm? Sure” he nods, patting on the grass. You sit down next to him and watch him as he looks in front of him, admiring the view extending before him. The sky is pretty, the stars are especially bright tonight.

"Thank you again for earlier. And… I'm sorry for even earlier" you say, and his gaze drops down to his lap. "I'm sorry I was being an asshole and I made you feel like an idiot just because I don't know how to deal with my emotions." He looks back up in front of him, and you're scared when he doesn’t say anything and just stares ahead, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "Can you forgive me?"

His face turns to you, and he nods, a pinched, awkward smile over his face. "Of course. Of course I can"

You can't help a relieved smile from forming over your face, and you look at the stars for a moment before looking back at him. He looks almost heavenly, bathed in the stars' light.

“You know I love you, right? Poe, please tell me you do.” you ask, almost beg, still scared that he could believe the opposite. 

"I do. I know it" he nods softly, looking at you. He pauses before continuing, as if he was thinking of the right words to say. "But I don't want you to feel forced to be with me if you're not ready yet" he continues, and his hand rests over your thigh as he looks at you sternly, wanting to show you that he means it.

Your heart sinks at how considerate he is, even after how you've been treating him, but you're not even surprised; he's the kindest, most gentle man you've ever met, you have always known this.

"I can wait for you, and I will, I'm not going anywhere." he looks down at your thigh when your hand covers his, and he looks back up at you. "I mean it."

It shouldn't have the effect it has, because you've never wanted him as much as you do now, but you have been wanting him for long anyways so it doesn't really change anything. 

“I’m terrified of losing you.” you mutter under your breath, saying this as if you were justifying yourself though you know you don’t have to.

“And why would you lose me?” he asks, almost sure it's a rhetorical question, his hand moving so it could grab yours. His fingers intertwine with yours and the gesture makes a chill run down your spine, you're sure it's not the fresh breeze of the night.

“You’re the most impulsive and reckless person I’ve ever met, Poe. That might simultaneously be your biggest blessing and flaw” you smile softly.

He scoffs. “But I’m also the best pilot in the Resistance, so…” he tries to reassure you with a fake sly smirk, for once, holding tighter onto your hand. “Trust me, will you? I know it’s hard for you, I know what you’ve gone through and I know what you're scared of but I promise you that we’ll be okay.” he nods, and you happen to believe him, he is able to do that.

"You don't have to wait for me, then" you declare, your head resting over his shoulder. He smiles as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaving a kiss at the top of your head before his rests over yours.

You will love him anyways, you will be terrified anyways, and if you have to live with the fear that everything could stop suddenly, you would rather do it by his side.

—

if this flops and if I get no feedback on this I will scream, cry, break something and consider retiring from writing so if you've read all of this please give me feedback or a comment or a reblog I'm literally begging you on my knees........

better safe than sorry masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

star wars masterlist: @apollo-enthusiast @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious

[cripplecharacters]

so, the posts on this blog about facial difference inspired me to make an oc with facial difference- specifically strabismus and a port wine stain. she's pretty much become one of my favourite characters to draw and develop, ive taken care to make sure she doesn't fall into shitty tropes. however, i have had one problem- in the world she lives in, rebels like her cover their face most of the time. ive been really struggling on how to design her mask/covering in a way that doesn't feel shitty, and doesn't feel like it's trying to cover her facial difference. and i know that technically it's not as bad if she's not the only character who wears a mask, but i still don't wanna push it, if you know what i mean? so it would be awesome if you could give suggestions on how i could handle her mask. here's a reference of her for. reference, and some ideas ive had for masks. thank you for taking the time, and for this blog in general!

[Image description: Traditional drawing of a light-skinned girl with pink straight hair, smiling. She has a large port-wine stain on the left side of her face, and her right eye goes inward. Around her are three headshot sketches;

first shows her in a bandana that goes over her nose with "bandana doesn't obscure FD but hides smile + necklace" written above, second shows a half-mask that covers only the right side of her face, with "early concept, feels tacky, shows port-wine stain but not strabismus :(", third shows a domino mask, with "domino mask, do I even have to explain? No-go" next to it. End image description.]

Hi!

I think that something close to the second one would actually be kinda fun (no irony or sarcasm). If we're talking about a story where everyone wears a mask, having the character with FD wear one that covers everything except for the FD is actually subversive! I never thought I would say that, but it does feel like it is.

Not sure how strict of a design should it be, but a diagonal - her bottom right to her top left - mask would be nice!

I tried to write down a detailed description of what I mean but it was coming out rather overcomplicated, so I hope you're okay with me doing a few demonstrative sketches; a diagonal and rather-silly option, an idea for the bandana with a drawn smile and the kind of tie that would show her necklace, and an idea for the half-mask but with an eye with strabismus painted on the mask.

So here are the suggestions! I haven't drawn in a while so my skills are kinda rusty, but I hope it conveys the concept! My personal favorite would be the first one - I know it barely counts as a mask but then again, in comics it's common that someone is unrecognizable when they wear a pair of glasses, so maybe it's not as farfetched haha.

The second one would be totally fine by my standards, but I'm assuming that her necklace has some kind of significance in the story, so maybe she could cross it at the back and tie it in the front instead for it to be more visible (or wear the necklace over it even?).

I think that doing something like on the third drawing above would be okay if there are also a lot of moments where her actual strabismus is shown. In general, I think that the idea of a character with a facial difference wearing a mask just to paint it on the mask is kinda silly, and I feel like it would fit her character. But for something like that to work, she would need to have the mask off often. If you choose to do that, I suggest your first time showing her to the viewer is with her mask off, both for the usual reasons I mentioned before but also because strabismus is often used as a gag in art. For me, seeing a character wear that kind of mask with no context would be kind of eye-rolling - but seeing a character with a crossed eye put on a mask with the same exact kind of eye, go and join their friends at doing rebel things? That's actually something new!

I enjoy that your character seems to be on the rather joyful and happy side, I like that :-) (smile emoji)

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[kaybreezy3000]

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

Sometimes your fanfic best friend gives you a shout out in an anon ask reply, and then you get excited and make your quickest Five fanart and first-time sort of animation based on a pairing she mentioned and that you wrote years ago. 😄

Link to Bad Kitty's ask

Link to my other art and stories on Tumblr

Link to my long read/3-part Five Centric TUA story with Five paired with a character similar to the one above (and yes-she has Harley Quinn vibes but don't worry if you don't like her-she is not her, I just borrowed some of her wild and fun and qualities. 😉)

------

Updated note added late 6/28/24 after a continuous thread of harassing comments from one user that now has been blocked. No this is not 'AI' made or traced like that person repeatedly said it was. I did not steal someone else's art like they accused me of with no back up other than ripping me apart with more mean comments about what looks so bad about this. They also said my other art posts are 'AI,' and that I have no drawing skill or understanding of how clothes fold.

The AI accusation is a very mean thing to say and it's happening to so many people on here and in the actual profession art world. I do agree that I am not great at art or writing but that doesn't mean I am using AI and claiming it's mine. It's very sad that people feel the need to attack art in this way when it's clearly not even good like mine.

This picture/animation was done with me doing a very bad, very fast sketch, and then hardly correcting my lines before I quickly color filled the drawing that I MADE based off the fact that I have drawn Five in a suit more times than I can count and I have basic drawing skills, not great skills but basic. The reason the hard lines are both gray and black in some spots is because I went in after to correct stuff like gaps that needed to be filled for color filling and I did that in a different layer with black rather than the gray I used the first time. It's an error but one I was aware of but didn't care about because this was supposed to be fast and messy.

So yeah... this is NOT TRACED, and from what it was supposedly traced or 'stollen' from, I have no idea what this user thought that was because they never backed that up with some image that they seem so sure I used. This was based on Five with one of my original characters, so that image they claim I stole didn't exist until I made it.

I'm just trying to have fun with my friends on here while learning to draw better digitally. I am not an artist, and I definitely don't get paid or try to make people support me.

To those like the user who did this, please just chill with the mean comments and be kind to art makers on here and writers and all content posters. If you don't like something ignore it or keep your negativity inside instead of spreading hateful intentions and saying things that are not true about people and their work or their ideas.

Sorry to go off about that on here when it was just supposed to be silly and fun, but this stuff isn't okay and needs to be shut down. I am not always going to post 'proof' pictures of my works in process. I have done that before, but it's not what this is about for me, so I don't even think to do it normally. I have other art posts on AO3 with hand drawn stuff so I figure I don't need to prove I can draw. If someone wants proof, it isn't hard to find it through my posts.

I know most people are only here just for the fun stuff and let's have more of that. ❤️ Peace and love to you all.

[persage]

TRUE COLORS - BRIAN "OTIS" ZVONECEK

'Cause my boy Otis deserves better

Summary:When you spend your time at 51, you draw Otis on the sly. Everyone notices it, except him. Until fate gets in the way

Word Count: 2.5 k

Maybe it's the way he moves his hands. Maybe it's how he moves the dark curls from his face. Maybe it's the way he wrinkles his nose when he's tired after the shift and starts working at Molly's, tirelessly.

Or it's the way he writes, with his head slightly tilted to the left.

It could be just the way the light fits between his features and makes him pure, bringing out his light skin stained by many small moles. Perhaps it's his dark eyes.

You really don't know. You just can't help but drawing him.

You'd like to draw his eyes after you've seen them even closer and realized how deep they really are, because you're sure they are, more than anything else in the world. Or, again, maybe it's the way he curls his lips as he smiles.

It's probably all together and he doesn't even realize it while a few meters away you're crouched on a chair, in a corner of the 51, almost invisible and your hand moves over a sheet and captures his image, without mistakes or smudges. You could be drawing Brian with your eyes closed by now.

"Are you still here?" Your half-sister, Leslie, asks, noticing you. You've been spending a lot of time at the 51 lately (and equally at the Molly's) officially because you're soon to be Boden's new secretary, secondly to spend time with Lesley. What you didn't expect was to find yourself spending most of your free time observing Brian, scribbling his face here and there, forcing yourself from time to time to portray other colleagues as well so as not to arouse suspicion. "Let me work Lesl" You reply, letting the pen run across the paper noisily. "Our Little Artist" Kelly teases you, ruffling your hair.

"When will you set up an exhibition with our portraits?" Herman asks, chuckling. "That wouldn't be a bad idea you know" Mills replies, winking. "Think about it y/n" You smile uneasily.

"I should find better models" You reply as Cruz and Otis - Brian - shake their heads. "Listen to the nonsense" Your eyes meet and you smile at him and he reciprocates before the siren of the imminent call forces him to leave. You sigh.

He fascinates you just like he torments you, you long for him and at the same time you are afraid to get to know him better. There's something sweet, genuine about him and you admire his courage and his work, but at the same time you're terrified because deep down what do you have to offer? What can make you interesting to him? You're just a failed student who needs to work here to make some money, a failed artist who has lost her inspiration, who can't help her sister in a difficult moment, who didn't get a degree, who can't control the emotions.

"You never color it" Boden has noticed one day, admiring your drawings. "I think it would ruin it" You have replied. The truth is that you are convinced that to do this, especially when it comes to Brian, you should need to see the color gradations of his skin, his face, his freckles or his eyes. It is incorrect to portray a subject and complete it inaccurately. You will use color on his drawings when and if you can see him at very close range. Closer than the Molly's counter or the 51. For now you settle for pencil or pen.

Sometimes you dwell too much on his well-defined lips. It's one of the parts you like to draw the most, after the eyes. Then you look at the finished drawing and wonder if you are experiencing something that will never happen, or not experiencing it at all. And with every call they come back with wounded expressions from a difficult intervention and some new scar on the body or the soul ans you wonder if it really makes sense to waste all this time.

It must be said : fate works in a curious way at times.

You're -again- drawing Brian, he's wearing his uniform and he's approaching the truck laughing with Mouch. The 51 is quieter than usual today and there are few calls, an unusual thing but you don't mind. You smile when Brian turns to face you and pretend to be focusing on someone else, momentarily terrified that he will think you're crazy. You place your pen on the table in front of you, tie your hair into a spooky ponytail, then start over with the care you reserve for important things. Brian  sighs, turning back in your direction, Mouch's hand on his shoulder as he shakes his head repeatedly. You wonder what they're talking about, you get the distinct feeling that it's you, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Stupid little girl.

" Someone has a crush" it's a voice behind you. The worst voice you could hear in this situation: Joe Cruz. Brian's best friend, roommate, his other half.

"Of all of us Otis? Why?" Cruz sits across from you, a hand under his chin and an inquisitive expression on his face that does not hide his happy grin. And you're terrified, now there's no way Brian won't know about it now. "I don't have a crush. I draw all of you Cruz" you reply, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"Yeah sure. You draw me once in a while, once of Herman, maybe three times of Kelly because it's particularly handsome, but I'm sure most of them are about Otis." You shake your head.

"What makes you think that?"

"I've been watching you Little Shay. You know, it's pretty obvious. You're not as good as you think at hiding." You open your eyes suddenly and feel your face get hot with embarrassment. Brian's eyes are still fixed on you and this with Cruz's words short-circuit you.

"If I were you I'd make a move" You need some fresh air. You get up and head for the exit, forgetting the notebook with your drawings on the table in a hurry.

When you come back for it, an hour and two cigarettes later, it's gone.

Two days, seven hours and a new notebook later, your half-sister has abandoned you at Molly's, a beer in front of you to finish and the light chatter of the last remaining customers. Someone sits next to you and lets their chair clatter to the floor. You don't turn around and stay focused on the beer because you know all too well who's next to you. Your senses alert, your heart furious. Brian.

"It's amazing" the voice is warm, but slightly high in pitch and secretly insecure. You shrug. "Thank you" you reply. Your brain is so muddy that you don't even wonder what it's referring to

"This is yours" now you look up and you see it. Brian's hand just reaching out to give you back the notebook. You stare at him dumbfounded. You admire the way the light falls on his face, how he smiled lightly and the lips you've always drawn so carefully, even more beautiful at that non-distance. For several seconds you don't say anything, but you stay still to study him, to study his colors, his embarrassed, sweet expression. Everything seems to stop to you.

"Otis, can you close?" Question Herman before leaving the pub, making you awaken and ashamed at the same time, realizing what you're getting into. You take the notebook without saying a word and start to get up and leave, but the boy's hand stops you, gently grabbing you by the wrist. It is soft, despite the hard work his skin is not rough. His warm skin seems to burn yours, leaving invisible marks.

You look at his fingers wrapped around your wrist, then at him, his dark eyes still fixed on you. He lets you go slowly, almost reluctant to break the contactn and you realize that he has the power to make you sit back, without saying a word.

"Sorry," you say sheepishly, looking away and letting your hair fall in front of your face to cover the blush on your cheeks.

"You shouldn't apologize" He replies, continuing to observe you. You feel his hand approaching your face, his fingers lingering near your hair, and you know what he's about to do, and you wish he would. You would like to him slowly pull your hair back, put it behind your ear, to let his big fingers slide against your skin and you would like to tilt your head to one side, to let yourself go to that contact. But he doesn't.

After a few moments he pulls his hand away, thinking maybe he's going too far.

Sure, your notebook is filled with portraits of him, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

"You're good" He whispers. "You're really good little Shay, you shouldn't waste such a talent." You just smile, let a sheepish chuckle leave your lips. Brian doesn't say it, but he feels like he's never heard a better sound in his life. He wonders how he didn't notice it before. Of course, as soon as you arrived at 51 he immediately set his sights on you, but he never really did it with an intention: partly because you are Shay's little sister, partly because he never thought he had any chance despite what Cruz said.

In short, Cruz doesn't always have brilliant intuitions when it comes to women.

Maybe Dawson's jokes could have enlightened him, sure, but anyway...Brian has never been a phenomenon with girls, in a barracks full of men like Kelly Severide why would you have to look at him? And instead you looked at him all the time, drew him so much that it filled entire pages, tracing his features with a pen and making him look much more handsome, bold, courageous, appreciable than he probably was. Because you see him this way.

"At first I didn't know whether to come to you or keep the notebook," he admits. "Then I thought it was a good excuse to talk to you."

"You don't need an excuse to talk to me Brian" you answers automatically, without thinking. He smiles, feels his heart melt in his chest. Hardly anyone calls him Brian, especially at the station.

"I needed to find the courage" he murmurs, clearing his throat. "It's easy in the barracks, between one joke and another but talking... I mean for real... It is different. Especially with someone like you"

"Someone like me?" you raise an eyebrow as he smiles. He is impossibly beautiful as his cheeks turn pink.

"An interesting girl, a curious one. An artist y/n"

"You're the only one who thinks of me like that. Artist."

He shakes his head. "That's not true, we all think so and if you start showing your drawings the whole world would do it" You shyly grab his hand which is still on the table.

"Thank you, you don't know how much this means to me." He hold yours back and intertwines his fingers with yours. He seems made to hold your hand, he seems born to grab you, to keep you close. And you wonder if hugging him gives the same effect, if even his lips are made to kiss yours.

"Listen, y / n ...." he takes on a serious tone of voice and you almost worry.

"Why have you never colored me? I mean, do you see me in black and white somehow? Does my aura tell you something? I'm not an artist, so I don't really know how these things work, but it scared me to death. Do you see me in any strange way?" he looks nervous

"Is that what worries you?"

"What else should?"

"I mean you find the notebook of someone who drew you too many times to count and you're worried about the fact that I don't color you?" you use a hint of sarcasm, realizing this confuses you.

Part of you feared there would be a different reaction, not anger knowing Otis, but at least a detachment, a rebuke. Anyone else would have been upset, but not him, he seems happy. He studies you carefully.

"You think I haven't seen you?" Your eyes widen and total silence envelops you. "What?" You're the one who doesn't understand now.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed that you spent your time looking at me and drawing me?" he shakes his head, amused by your shocked expression  "You've been going on like this for months, aren't you going to pretend that you don't believe me?"

"I..." You can't say more. He laughs and you look at him, and then start laughing , because Brian has written "liar" on his forehead. "No, you didn't understand a damn thing my dear Brian" You retort.

"Oh I don't, but Cruz does. It was just hard to believe"

"And why?"

Brian doesn't answer, he caresses his goatee thoughtfully and you understand that you won't get the truth. Not yet. "Because you're beautiful y/n, people like you fly too many meters higher then me. In short..."

"I've looked at you from the start, Brian." You confess, this time without shame, your will to make him happy is stronger than any embarrassment. You know he needs to know it, to realize his value, for once to be the protagonist, the hero of your story, of your drawings, of your life. Him and no one else.

When silence returns, he turns to you again.

"So? Why didn't you color me?"

"I've never colored you because... I had to see you up close, really close, to be able to color you the way I want" you simply reply and he opens his mouth to say something, but he can't formulate anything, not when you continue. "Modigliani painted empty eyes, without pupils, because he couldn't paint what he didn't know: the souls of the people he was portraying. He only painted those of his partner Jeanne. I suppose it's the same for me. I can't color you without knowing the your true colors, without knowing what undertone your skin is or the paths that the veins form on your body."

Without realizing it, you've started to run your fingertip along his wrist, where the vein pulsates under the skin.

"Do you think." His voice is hoarse, scratched with emotion and excitement. "Do you think you'll give me the chance to let you find out?" He asks shyly. You nod with a slight smile.

"Are you asking me out Brian?"

"I'm asking you for dinner, then let's see what happens."

"Only one?"

"Maybe more than one"

[rayshippouuchiha]

Does skull try to tell Verde and Reborn about Oodako? I have this image of him trying right after he finds out and/or when they find Oodaku writing. They obviously think he's screwing with them, but the thought of skull honestly saying "What? I did tell you!" while their eyes twitch when they finally figure it out has me in stitches.

You know what? Yes.

Skull attempts to say something to both Verde and Reborn about Oodako not too long after he realizes that his new little companion is very smart even for an octopus.

Skull: uh ,,, senpai? Verde? I think Oodako is like really smart??

Verde: Your scale of what does and does not count as abnormally intelligent leaves a lot to be desired considering your base.

Reborn: Just because he's smarter than you doesn't mean he's anything special, Lackey.

Skull: *watching tiny Oodako draw out detailed hieroglyphs about how he'd really like more shrimp for dinner* If you guys say so,,,,

[strangerqueerthings]

Soft

(CW for body image issues, disordered eating)

Billy's getting soft, and Eddie doesn't draw attention to it at first, because he wants to enjoy it as long as he can.

The last thing he wants is for Billy to relapse into overdoing his exercises, his weight lifting, counting calories, protein, and carbs.

Billy hasn't measured out his portions in almost six months. He hasn't stared at the nutrition facts panel on a box for over five minutes in almost five months. He hasn't lifted weights and exercised to the point of exhaustion in almost a year.

He indulges in dessert at least once a week, and he doesn't look around the room as if expecting danger. He has a beer and takes his time to enjoy it. He shares more joints with Eddie, and doesn't fight the munchies when they come.

Last week, he shared a plate of chili cheese fries and a greasy, oversized burger with Eddie- he even had a Coke with it.

He still goes for runs, or swims laps, but instead of them being daily occurrences, he does them when he has time, because he's slowly replacing over exertion with hobbies he never allowed himself to enjoy.

Eddie comes home from his shift with Gary to find Billy sitting on the bed, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, chewing on a pen, surrounded by books and notebooks.

Edgar Allen Poe. Mary Shelley. Oscar Wilde. William Blake. Bram Stoker.

He's comparing them, writing notes in his small, neat, precise handwriting. He also has a large book of Blake's watercolors open on "Book of Urizen- the creation of Urizen in material form by Los, 1794."

Eddie's never been much a literary nerd- he prefers to write and create his own works, rather than read what was written a long time ago. Still, he knows about Blake, and how the religious themes are important to Billy, because he's been struggling with them due to his upbringing.

Eddie's happy to see him fully investing his time and attention to something he enjoys- and is clearly absorbed by.

But what really has him smiling, is how Billy's stomach now has two gentle rolls to it as he leans forward to look at a page before taking another note. How he has the start of love handles visible from the waistband of his shorts digging into his hips.

Physically, Billy is getting soft, while sharpening his wits, and Eddie has never been more attracted him than he has been in that moment, seeing his softness paired with his hungry mind, proof that Billy isn't ignoring any of his appetites anymore.

Eddie comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. Billy looks up and smiles, the expression lighting up his face.

"Didn't hear you come in."

"Didn't want to interrupt," Eddie replies, leaning over to plant a kiss on Billy's cheek. "You look like you're in the middle of something."

"Really into the Book of Urizen right now. Something about the conflict between him and Los makes me think of how I had to deal with Neil."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"How so?"

"Urizen wields nets, with which he ensnares people in webs of law and conventional society," Billy says, reading from his notes. "While Los, his counterpart, is an aspect of art and imagination, and in their struggle to control the world, Los and Urizen fall and bind each other in human forms."

Eddie frowns.

"I don't get it."

"Their downfall was that they wouldn't stop fighting, and it warped their purpose. I've been fighting Neil so long, I lost sight of who I am, and what I want, even how I feel about my body. I was bound in a human form Neil forced me to take, and my fear of him... made me keep it that way."

"Not recently," Eddie says gently, kissing Billy's shoulder. "And I've never seen you happier."

"I've never been happier," Billy agrees, then frowns.

"I struggled with it for a while, you know."

Eddie nods, but says nothing. He knows Billy well enough that the silence isn't the end of his train of thought- it's the calm before the storm of words that he needs to get out.

"I was worried I'd get bad again. Over doing it, going back to constant working out, skipping meals, or only eating protein. I was worried that I'd need to be that same person in high school, the same build, even though he's not a threat anymore. He's far away, out of my life, but he still has a hold on me."

Eddie leans against Billy, providing silent, solid support as Billy continues.

"But I see how you look at me, Eddie," he says. "I saw when I took my shirt off yesterday, and how your eyes lit up. The way you smiled when we shared that really greasy meal."

He looks at Eddie meaningfully.

"I feel how your hands linger on my hips at night. I can feel your fingers run over my stomach when you think I'm asleep."

Eddie flushes.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Billy-" he begins, but Billy puts a finger to his lips.

"I'm not good with words. Never have been. Not with saying them, and definitely not with accepting them. If you told me you like how I look now, I wouldn't believe you."

His face lights up as he smiles again, the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes wrinkling in contentment, and those tiny little lines take Eddie's breath away, knowing that his happiness is becoming such a regular thing that it's leaving its mark in his skin.

"The way you touch me when you think I'm asleep, or when you think I won't notice- I do, and it means more than any of your silly speeches. You don't blow it out of proportion, you don't draw attention to it."

Billy rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"You just love me, the way I am, and you never ask me to change, but you appreciate and encourage me in your own, unspoken way every time I make changes for the better, and it keeps me from going back, from second-guessing those changes."

"Because I love you, and I want you to be happy and healthy, babe," Eddie says, reaching up and pushing a lock of hair behind Billy's ear.

"And I know I haven't said it until now, but Billy... I love seeing you soft and content."

Billy laughs, looking at his notes.

"Kind of arrogant to compare myself to a mythical figure," he says, but there's no self-derision in his voice, only amusement.

Eddie grins.

"I'll have you know, Dionysus is one of my favorite mythical figures, and everyone agrees- that god knew how to party, was a symbol of fertility, just an overall rock star."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"And in most of the statues and art of him? He's built just like you- sometimes, even with man tits."

Billy laughs, flushing a bit.

"Are you saying I've got a godly figure?"

"Not just saying it- I'm stating it as fact."

Billy smiles, and closes his notebook, stacking his books up and putting them on the nightstand along with his pen. He pulls Eddie to him, and grins wickedly.

"Well then, Eddie," he breathes. "Worship at the altar of my body."

Eddie can't get either of their clothes off fast enough.

[correctproseka]

So @queer-prosekai told me to do my own top 10 list of the sets + my favorite card of each, so here's some rules i set for myself

1- i have to REALLY like the full set, not just really like a card but a little less to the others (cough Saki in no seek no find, for one example. Though other sets have also triggered this rule)

2- i also am judging by card only, not the story, however. I am not completely good at this because a lot of the cards that are already good get to be way better because of the event behind it.

3- only counting the trained cards, not untrained, it would be a very different list.

ANYWAYS. LIST STARTS NOW:

10: LIGHT UP THE FIRE

Oh my poor child are you okay??? Going past how much i like this event. Which would get me here writing for hours mind you. I also just really like the set. The dark colors and the fact that in all 3 cards you can barely see color- its black and then each has their own color showing up, An has red, Toya has blue and Rin has white. It just gives a fucking impact on you looking at them. Would not change a thing, really.

9: WISHING TO THE BLUE SKY FOR YOUR HAPPINESS

Anyone else remembers qhen this set just totally broke us? Oh my god. I do. Shizuku in a suit. An in this pretty ass dress. I just cjsjcjsmcjsncjdj. It was mainly those two that really hit for me, specially An. But when it hit it hit hard man

8: SMILE OF A DREAMER

It was the first lim set, so it was really simple compared to what we get now. But simple doesn't mean bad. I really love the colors and idk man i have a soft spot for it i cant defend everything my brain is a dvd logo bouncing around😭

7: HEAR ME HOPEFUL SHOW

Angel Minori is one of the prettiest sets ever, it just isnt higher because personally i like some others more, doesn't mean this shit isnt fucking gorgeous. The lightning, the setting. I love this mmj card with everyone in it bc this is such a beautiful place???? Just. Licks this set like an ice cream then cries bc i ate the pretty ass set.

6: Someday, from the depths of despair

Lowkey i did not expect this one to be this high before i made this list. But it is just gorgeous setting, gorgeous lightning. It just makes my brain go brrrr looking at it.

5- What lies behind lies ahead

The hermit set has people in a chokehold for years, and for good reason. The hairstyles are pretty, the au ideas one can get out of it are yummy. AND THE CARD THEMSELVES ARE SO CKSJFKDK. All of them having this golden thing around as if hermit was a story told to us by images. It just could be a poster. Its certainly pretty enough to.

4: Our escape for survival

Sorry for the amount of niigo here. It will happen again. Niigo never misses. Anyways i just love this set sm. The lightning, muffled colors and backgrounds just hit so fucking hard. The rain shared on the 3 cards from the set is so symbolical and so is the clock and the engines on Mafuyu's and Luka's card. It tells us a story before we even read the event and that is beautiful.

3: Close game offline

I had to skip this set and i am still sad about it. Man the the the cmsucksjcjx aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa viddygame and neon.

2- Unnamed Harmony

I like silly, your honor. I also like water. Saki's card has both /hj. No but really i just really like the outfits and colors and just everything in this set it would be a CRIME to not have this here as a Saki stan. Just look at it!!!!

1: Draw your bow in this white world

.. so, who's surprised? I can barely even find a favorite card in this set. From Kaitos . Kaito. (Does he need more?), Shizuku's gracefulness and beautifulness and Mafuyu just pretty and badass breaking the "screen"/mirror/window with an arrow. Its just soooooo ancjamvjsjchsjxncnsicjsv chomps.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Knock the future, which light up the fire took it off on a technicality (i like 3/3 cards on light up the fire and 2/3 on knock the future bc Honami is very meh compared to the others to me)

Anyways if anyone else wants to do this as a challenge id love it. And @probably-not-niigo i challenge u to do the same

[aching-tummies]

Manual Stimulation response.

First of all I just wanna say that I love love looove this prompt and I can't wait to read everything that's gonna come from it. Seeing that it's something I enjoy I figured I could try and contribute as well.

Even though I'm at work we text every once in a while so you've already informed me of your issue. I suggested drinking some tea or milk or eating something that generally helps with digestion like prunes. But all of that has only made matters worse as none of it has digested and is now just a pile of food waiting to properly processed.

My shift has finally ended and I come home and find you curled up on the couch with your tummy in your hands, softly cradling the sensitive ball of trouble. You plead for my aid as you can no longer withstand the pain and tendernes of your poor tummy. I get to work as quick as possible and soon enough I manage to jump start the digestion process. This however comes with it's own price. Your gut is now overwhelmed by the amount of food and it starts contracting and trying to pace the incoming wave of food which gives you some horrid cramps. Because of this I have to sink my hands deeper and try to fight those cramps. This goes on for quite a while, a fight between me and your digestion until you finally process it all.

Thank you so, so much for this! A response to this post.

Sorry this took so long. Life got busy and left me no time to write anything. On top of that, I really, really, really wanted to write something worthy of this response.

Your phone pings, signalling a message. You duck into an empty room. It's a slow shift tonight. You're on-rotation and hoping that the hospital doesn't get too busy. A blush manifests on your face as you see what it is that I have sent you.

It's an image of my usually-trim belly with just a barely-there bulging curve to it. It's captioned “4 hours and counting -_-”.

A sound from somewhere down the hall tears your attention away from the phone, but you still type a quick response as you try to school your blush. You hurriedly tell me to drink some tea or something to settle my stomach. There's an incident with a patient at the end of the hall and you rush there, thoughts about me and about our conversation forgotten as you get to work.

I see the hurried message about tea and sigh, gently nursing the ball of indigestion that is my belly. I feel the contents churning in my stomach, rolling around between my palms. Unfortunately, that's about all it does. Very little has actually passed into my intestines despite dinner having been hours ago. We've been together long enough for the novelty of waiting up for each other to fade. When you draw night-shift I usually get a head-start with sleep and you do your best not to disturb me when you make it home. Unfortunately, dinner isn't settling well in my tummy tonight and sleep eluded me because of it.

Biting back a moan, I steel myself and stand up, both arms cradling my achy belly as I do so. I feel my stomach cramp and gurgle as the glut of food shifts inside of it. Taking a few seconds, I rub over my taut belly, kneading gently to try and manually break up what feels like a dense mass of food in my tummy. I can't help the groans and whimpers as I sluggishly move to the kitchen, setting the kettle up and rummaging around the cupboards for some tea. Of course, the peppermint just has to be on the top shelf. My stomach cramps painfully as I stretch to reach the box of tea leaves. Cosidering how we rely on peppermint tea as a stomach soother, we really should be keeping it on a lower shelf, somewhere easier to reach when either of us is doubled up with stomach pain (usually me).

My stomach burbles angrily within me as I watch the kettle come to a boil. I try my best to sooth it, even pressing my belly against the counter-top to try and get any sort of relief. It never comes.

Two hours since my last message and you've finally hit a lull at work. You duck into another quiet room and pull out your phone. Surely I've gone to bed by now, but you decide to check if there are any updates about the state of my stomach.

'(11:43P) Made tea. Need to stop putting peppermint out-of-reach.'

'(12:14A) Didn't help. Dinner is bobbing around in my stomach. Feels weird. Need your hands, babe.'

A short audio file has been sent after that text and you blush scarlet as you tap on it and hear a sickly, wet grumble from a clearly-distressed belly. When one thinks 'indigestion'--that's the kind of sound they think of—wet, thick, sickly, and troubled.

You quickly type out a response.

'(1:40AM) You damned tease.'

Your phone reads 4:07AM when you finally reach the door to our apartment and fumble quietly with the keys. You do your best to minimize any noise, thinking that I'd have gone to sleep by now.

Quietly entering our apartment, your gaze follows the faint glow coming from the living room. I left the standing lamp on, it seems. What surprises you is that I'm under the lamp, leaning on the far side of the couch with my knees up and my arms sandwiched against my belly.

“Sweetie? What are you still doing up?” You whisper, quietly padding over to the couch.

“Nnngh....w-welcome home.” I mutter passed a groan. I whimper as you settle on the couch next to me, the action jostling me and sending shockwaves through my sickly tummy. A shaky rumble squeezes out from behind my arms as you settle.

“Oh? Is your belly still upset?” You're surprised—even more so when I nod and cuddle up to you. I grab your arms as I settle against your chest, quickly placing your hand over my belly as I uncurl slightly from the tense ball I've been in for hours. My legs protest the change in position but I ignore the cramps, trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on my belly and waiting for the relief I hope you'll bring.

My belly has a bit more of a curve to it compared to the photo I sent you hours ago. The curve surprises you as you had expected the bloating to subside after all these hours. The idea of me having spent hours with such a visibly uncomfortable belly stirs both pity and lust in your mind.

Audible, wet grumbles resound with every knead of your palms on my belly. You palpitate my abdomen, exploring it. There's a large mug on the coffee table, about 1/3 full of the remnants of peppermint tea. Three tea-bags rest at the bottom of the mug. Knowing my tea-drinking habits, you quickly calculate and decide that it means a little over five and a half mugs of tea have made their way into my bowels.

My intestines are bloated with the sheer amount of tea that I managed to consume. It didn't really help and only served to make my guts really sloshy. The stubborn mass of dinner sits heavily in my stomach, refusing to be broken down no matter how much my stomach clenches around it and my stomach has basically given up at this point. Hours of futile churning haven't managed to dislodge the sticky mass. My stomach is sore from trying, and failing, to digest for so many hours. I'm exhausted from being kept up waaaay passed my normal sleeping hours with this unrelenting indigestion.

Your kneading hands get to work on my stomach, deftly mapping out the situation in my guts and working accordingly. You are very familiar with this process as I suffer from indigestion fairly frequently. We find ourselves in similar situations, though on a lesser scale, at least three times a week.

A well-placed pinch to the left side of my abdomen, in tandem with three of your fingers pushing deeply and stimulating a loop of intestine on my right side results in a sickly rumble. I gasp as I feel a chunk of the sticky mass in my belly break off and get passed the sphincter at the base of my stomach.

“Ooooh...fuckin' finally!” I moan as peristalsis rolls in waves through my bloated intestines, seeking out the bit of food that managed to enter after hours and hours of indigestion.

[bosskie]

Continuing the Sketchbook

I felt inspired by that 'old Molluck' and I feel like I love that Molluck more now than I used to... I noticed more differences between the AO Molluck and NnT Molluck while working on this but I also did remember again why I dislike NnT... I'll write about that later in this post.

Man, I'm not even sure when was the last time I drew something like this... It's so rare that I draw 'full settings', I mean, a background, multiple characters, something that has a story etc. I'm just used to draw portraits because well, I have felt like I just cannot draw anything else... So, I took the challenge and especially when I didn't have direct references, I had to make this perspective by myself. I tried my best and hope that it looks alright. Also, I'm sorry for the quality of these. All these look better and smoother IRL. I only take a photo and edit it, so some details are lost too. But you can see the main thing, somehow, and the main details are there, like Abe's lil hand tattoo.

I actually planned something different for the second page but I wanted to draw this way too much ... I'm not sure why but this image was just stuck inside my head. This is kinda random too since I just added some stuff that came to my mind around the drawing. I basically just drew this all day since I felt like I do need a day-off... I barely keep any holidays, even for a day... I just keep feeling more and more tired...

But yes, man I just feel like I keep loving this Gluk more and more... I just noticed how this AO Molluck gives that certain feeling SoulStorm Molluck has.

(I love what like AO Molluck looks in this cutscene...) The same situation in NnT doesn't give me this feeling, so yeah, frankly, NnT Molluck is the worst version of him in my opinion. I had forgotten how artificial voice NnT Molluck has... I hadn't seen any NnT cutscene for like two years. NnT Molluck makes different sounds too, like AO Molluck makes some 'random murmur' sounds while NnT one growls. I love that murmur he makes, it's adorable... He kinda does it in SS too!

I also noticed that NnT cutscene doesn't have that 'Molock suckz' text, just now... I wonder why. I personally love that lil detail and the fact that the Gametee's RuptureFarms hoodie has that printed on it! Well, I still don't agree on that, though it depends on how we define 'suck' here; he does smoke a lot!

Oh, and I also realized how they changed what Molluck says in that cutscene in NnT too! He doesn't say 'Kill 'im!' anymore but something like 'Get toast!', if I hear right... Man, Molluck truly got softer there. But that toast thing tickled my dark humour... Yeah, when Molluck manages to catch Abe, he wants to make a good sandwich from him, put him between a bread, and before killing him, he asks from Abe: 'Whadda ya are?'. Abe replies: 'I'm a weak, pathetic, uneducated, shmuck of a slave sandwich'. Those were Abe's last words. The end.

I cannot help myself that I enjoy dark humour like that... Oddworld is just perfect for my humour! I have been joking after making that joke that welp, maybe being like all day with Molluck makes me be more like him too... Yeah, I don't hate Abe but for some reason, the only character I care about is Molluck. He just means so much to me... After all these years, I finally found a character that is 'perfect' for me. Well, I only like a few characters in general too... But none of them (but Molluck) feel 'right' for me, at least in the same sense as Molluck; it can take some time to realize it. I can like count with one hand the characters that feel somehow special to me; like one of them is like me as a villain, feels like my alter ego.

It's just kinda odd to think how 'the one' for me was Molluck... No one else has made me feel like he does... It's just so interesting but I love to have him as that one. When I saw him, in both AO and SS, before really getting into him, I felt nothing special toward him, didn't see anything special in his appearance either; I only liked Gluks in general. But then, that SS Molluck just started to feel like me as a Gluk and here I am!

[slipping-is-doing-things]

Behold! My version of Gaster

I finally written it all out because I can't draw but certainly can write myself into an hole. Haveing been in the fandom for more than six years I supposed it was finally time I share my version of Gaster.

Word count : 3.7k

Warnings : Self destructive behavior, self harm, depression, implied dissociation, smoking

Fandom : Undertale

Please feel free to draw him, I would cry if anyone would

╞═════𖠁◇𖠁═════╡

General

Gaster's name is actually Wingdings Aster rather than Wingdings Gaster. He never had the heart to correct the king and queen about how his name is actually pronounced.

Gaster isn't related to Sans and Papyrus, he is friends with Sans and resultingly Papyrus.

Wingding's has a sweet tooth though he doesn't openly admit such things. At the same time he'll never turn down sweets.

Gaster's an boss monster. His level of violence sits at five, very close to six from the war, he was only a late teenager (17) when the monsters were sealed underground. His LV is only that high from needing to defend himself.

Dings has had mental health issues since the war, depression and anxiety hung around long term which greatly affected his self worth.

His right eyesocket has always been deformed in a permanent halfmoon. Due to the deformity his sight out of that eyesocket don't work properly, once the crack forms in that eyesocket he loses full sight out of it. Due to what caused the one crack his equilibrium is distorted though most wouldn't notice this.

Before the CORE accident

He used to paint frequently but he slowly stopped doing so. He lost enjoyment in the activity years ago but never could bring himself to get rid of his equipment to paint.

The cracks on his face were not always there and rather born from a mix of stress and a repercussion of a failed experiment. His hands were his own doing as well but that isn't to be spoken about. Visually his hands even with being healed have permanent cracks that break off from the holes in them, they don't fully go through the bone but can be felt and seen.

His smoking habits were born rather innocently at first, he simply wanted to understand why cigarettes were labeled as addictive for humans. Turns out skeletons can become addicted to nicotine much like humans. (Or at least for Gaster)

Post CORE incident

After haveing been in the dark for an intangible amount of time he's grown an intense fear of the dark, artificial or otherwise.

Under stress his full body becomes more melted in an similar manner an wax figure melts under heat. Stressors can be from outside forces or lack of sleep.

Due to the incident his magic isn't what it used to be. His magic being rather erratic even by his standards, he only has the use of one set of extra he can depend on while useing more then one set can become risky.

With his major fear of the dark his sleep schedule is ruined. The doctor sleeping during the day while staying awake at night to make sure this tangible reality doesn't disappear around him.

Detailed appearance

Before his fall Gaster was an skeleton fully. Sadly he had the same deformities his mother had in her own bones. Due to this his appearance is as such before he gained the cracks. Sadly I don't have any commissioned artwork of him without any cracks.

After the incident the Royal scientist takes on a more heavily melted appearance. His upper and lower arms missing with his hands intact, the rest of his body having a more pure black appearance than don't show any shadows cast onto it. His physical bone structure ends at the spine vertebrae L3 with the black goop that's replaced his legs starting at L3 almost L2 visually. The image provided shows both an idea of his stable and unstable appearances.

╞═════𖠁◇𖠁═════╡

Music playlist

╞═════𖠁◇𖠁═════╡

Artwork credits

Puzzle kick - Unknown, I couldn't find the artist with this artwork posted. If anyone knows the true artist, most likely under new handle, please let me know.

Unknown - due to this being a commission I got done on Amino I sadly lost the handle of the very kind individual who drew this for me I sadly can't share who did this. If the original artist sees this please let me know so I can give you the credit you deserve.

╞═════𖠁◇𖠁═════╡

[swearyshera]

Ooh, I've got quite a few asks! This is a long one...

Aw, thank you so much! I've always said that I try to turn the subtext into text, but even doing that there's still plenty of subtext!

I come from a place of loving all the characters, so any mocking of them is gentle and light-hearted, but hopefully it has given people a different perspective on a few of them. A big part of the plot I've ended up writing is about loving yourself as you are, and not being ashamed to be true to yourself, and I think Hordak really exemplifies that as someone who very much struggled with that concept in the face of Horde Prime (someone who demands conformity). In that respect, he's very much a character I'm sure some people can relate to. Also I made him a largely incompetent evil emperor because that was just funny, so there's maybe fewer absolutely horrifying things he's done.

One of the advantages of this format is having more time to spend with the characters (I don't have to fit everything into 20 minutes), so that does mean we get more depth to people like Castaspella or the Horde Trio. That's not to criticise the original, there will always have to be side characters and characters who don't get much time, but I get to spend a little more time with them like this.

I'm glad you've come along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy the final week!

He is!

Also this has probably prompted someone to write/draw Entrapdak as Barbie and Ken now...

@tenaciousdecapitator That would have happened if Prime had gone on about how perfect Gateshead is!

@solcaeruleus If I can make people cry, that counts as a victory!

The "I care what she thinks" line had been in my notes for so long - in fact, I think the first time I wrote Entrapta's "We're enough as we are" back in Season 3, I knew this scene would call back to that. It is the full circle of Hordak's character arc, really - he went from trying to be what someone else (Prime) wanted, to someone that he wanted to be. And it's of note that he doesn't entirely reject the 'fuck what anyone else thinks', because he cares what Entrapta thinks - he's taken that and added his own spin to it: You don't have to be anything for anyone, but making someone you care about proud sometimes helps you become who you want to be.

@kirvee ME NEITHER

@gardensofcrystals I'm so glad you could find some catharsis in this!

While I've not specifically written Prime as a particularly religious thing, the image I've had of him as some right-wing, anti-queer, anti-woman person isn't exactly a million miles from some types of Evangelical preachers, and I couldn't completely divorce him from that image because it was intended in the original - he's supposed to be an analogy to that kind of person.

His story is probably familiar to many people, who find something about their identity at odds with what they're told they should be. And that could be about sexuality with homophobic parents, or some aspect of yourself that's considered unacceptable by a religious or societal authority - I'm sure we've all had moments where we've felt we need to hide something about ourselves that we should never have to hide.

But whereas Prime will never be convinced that Hordak is 'good enough', my (admittedly limited) knowledge of religion is that God is kind of a loving guy and was quite hot on not being a judgemental prick to your fellow humans.