#my beloved sparkles man... and his stupid moustache

[eyesofshan-if]

@/obesericewrites is the blog for an IF named The One Who Made Red. Her blog is an absolute chaos and unhinged place with her gremlins (the anons) spreading around the IF community like wild grass and bringing chaos everywhere they go lol. Poor Rice (the author). You should check her IF out!

- Social Gremlin 😈

i'll definitely check it out!!

[magicalgirlmascot]

Alright who wants to see my old Bionicle humanizations? These were from my modern/college!AU Metru Uni which I made when I was in college. These were all posted on dA circa 2011-12ish, and you have to understand these were drawn by hand, scanned into a computer, and edited using a laptop trackpad and MS Paint. Get ready for a lot of Shoujo Legs and Weird Character Choices. (All images will have their descriptions in the alt text.)

So first of all you have to understand that Vakama was my babygirl for many many years. This guy has the worst social anxiety you've ever seen. Not sure why I decided to take away his glasses when he transformed considering that's one of my least favourite things but whatever.

THIS MAN HAS NO ASS. I mean none of them do but Matau especially, goddamn. Anyway he wanted to dye his hair green so bad but his mom wouldn't let him. This guy is a huge flirt and we stan. Also I think the second image is flipped for some reason.

Okay yeah the second image is definitely flipped why did I do that. I was genuinely trying to make Nokama look cute and fashionable here but also I didn't know how to draw skirts very well so. Yeah. Vakama and Matau were both instantly smitten with her when she showed up and honestly the endgame ship there was Vakama/Nokama but for real it should've been the three of them. God she was so fucking patient

Now I gotta say I have absolutely no clue why the hell I gave Onewa a punk aesthetic (it's not even that punk, really, just what I would've considered punk as a very sheltered teen in 2011) but it kinda fucks actually. He was such a bitch but also he was so right about basically everything. King <3

WHENUA MY BELOVED. He was the oldest out of all of them and straight up had a university degree already but had for some reason decided to go to college after to get qualifications for a job that definitely would have paid less than the job he was originally going for with the university degree but I was dumb as hell and also he had to be at college that was the point of the fic. He and Vakama were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

Okay so the hairstyle. Um. I was obsessed with Wizard AnimalParade at the time. Also when he lifted the eyepatch on his transformed self he could zoom his vision in and out like a telescope. Also also he was obsessed with astronomy and thought astrology was stupid which. Is very funny writing KNPS now because that version of Nuju has exactly the same opinion

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Hey Rags how come the characters with brown and black as their theme colours are the only brown and black skinned characters" because I was fucking stupid that's why. Moving on.

One of the running gags I had in the manga version of this fic (YES there was a manga version, it only got about halfway through the second chapter) was that Lhikan always had bishounen sparkles every time he appeared. I wanted him to be a pretty boy so bad. I stand by this choice honestly Lhikan should be the prettiest boy. He should be more pretty than he is. VAKAMA SHOULD'VE HAD A BI LITTLE CRUSH ON HIM.

Honestly the only reason his eyes are white here is I forgot to colour them lmao. Dume worked in the college's security office and he was such an uptight old bitch. Look at his stupid little tie clip. This was also before I learned how to, like, make people look older, and so he just looks like a young man with a moustache lol. What learning to draw from Chris Hart books does to a mf

And to round off this part, please have one of the first pieces of digital art I ever did: a cover for the series! Back in the day fanfiction.net let you set a specific cover for a series so I drew this for that. I'm honestly really glad I found this again, I thought that it was lost to time and the only version I had access to was the extremely crunched version still up on ff.net. I drew this all by hand and did all the colouring and shading and stuff using Paint.net, which was a free program. The textures for the dirt and earth were made using MS Paint still though lol.

OKAY there are still about one million billion left to go but I'm calling it here for now so it doesn't get too long. I'll make another post with villains or something later.

Except also here have this no-context picture of Matau that was my deviantart profile picture for a long time.

[simkaswriting]

I’m in love with my car-(Roger Taylor)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: swearing, Roger being an all around clueless ass really

Summary: in which Roger finally admits his love for (Y/N) after some soul searching with Brian

A/N- can be read as both irl Roger and BohRap Roger, the story doesn’t specify.

“Please give a warm welcome to her majesty, Queen!” the venue owner shouts into the microphone, a beaming smile present on his lipstick-stained face. He’s rocking a moustache of a true 70s pornstar that he’s no doubt very proud of, and bright red bell-bottoms that could potentially put Freddie to shame. 

As he walks off stage, the people around me erupt into a cacophony of whoops and yeahs. Tonight the venue is packed, not that it usually isn’t filled to the brim with fans. But tonight, it seems like the capacity has more than doubled. 

Brian and John walk on first, smiles on their faces as they adjust their instruments. The crowd goes wild once again, causing John to flash the general crowd a bashful smile. He’s always been the more reserved one when performing live. Brian finds my face in the front of the crown, and I offer him a supportive smile. Roger walks on stage next, and before he even has the chance to wave at the fans and take his seat, the people all start cheering for him, the distinguishable voices of many women ringing out above all else. But that’s not unusual, Roger has always been quite the ladies man, to my annoyance. Though before the crowd has a chance to catch their breath, Freddie strides out onto the stage, his hands high in the air, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s wearing sparkling silver platforms and a checked leotard, one he made himself. 

Pride washes over me as the guys dive head-first into their first song, ‘Keep Yourself Alive’, and the people immediately start jumping and pumping their fists in the air. 

As the guys play through their songs, the crowd gets more wild and into the moment, until Freddie announces that Roger’s going to be singing ‘I’m In Love With My Car’. I can see the teasing smile on Brian's face, and I can’t help but recall the hilarious conversation the guys had at the farm a little while back. Freddie sits down at the front of the stage, knowing well he won’t have to be singing much for this song, just backing vocals. After all, it’s a song Roger wrote as an ode to his beloved cars, so this is on him. Rog rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and winks at the general audience, an act enough to drop the panties off of 90% of women in the room. An act that annoys me, for no apparent reason, other than my deeply-buried adoration for the blond drummer.

As the song goes on, through the many raw vocals and metaphors for sexual acts, I notice more and more women pushing to the front of the stage, flirty smiles on their lips, no doubt wanting to get noticed by the one and only Roger Taylor. And I honestly can’t blame them, he is a sight for sore eyes. 

The band finish playing the last few songs, and spend a few minutes at the front of the stage, talking to their fans and signing whatever gets passed their way. I use this time to make my way out of the crown and stand at the bar, watching them with admiration in my eyes. If you’d told me a few years ago that the crazy guys who’d sold out pubs in our home town would become my best friends, I’d have laughed in your face. They were, or rather still are, four misfits who don’t fit together yet despite this call themselves family. 

My eyebrows furrow as I see a blonde girl hand Roger a piece of paper, no doubt with her number on it, and press a chaste kiss to his grinning face. The acrid feeling in my stomach worsens when I see him whisper something into her ear before sending a quick wink her way as the guys start heading off stage. I close my eyes for a brief moment, taking some calming breaths. Sure, logically there’s no reason for why I should be acting the way I currently am, all bothered about what I see at almost every gig. Roger is my best friend, an attractive guy who clearly knows it and takes advantage of it. At the end of the day, we aren’t together, despite how much I crave it. 

Opening my eyes, I make my way out of the venue and round the back, where the guys are already packing their gear away. Freddie welcomes me with a grand smile, his platforms making him a lot taller than me to my disdain. “How did you find the show, darling?” He asks, stepping out of Rogers way so he can get his drums in the tour bus as soon as possible.

Ignoring the blond, I grin back at Freddie. “Amazing, even better than the Glasgow gig last Wednesday. You guys really know how to get the crowd going.” 

John nods to himself. “She’s right, this venue was way more packed than Kings Merchant.”

Roger and Brian lock up the instruments and walk over to the three of us. Roger casually slings his arm around my shoulders, smile not leaving his face. “(Y/N) is always right, you should know this by now.” 

Brian and John exchange a look I don’t quite understand, but I dismiss it. Instead, I turn my head to look at the drummer who’s still got his arm around me with a proud smile, and find myself instinctively leaning against his side for support, not that I need it. “You should suck my dick like this more, it suits you.” I tease Roger, looking into his gorgeous eyes with a mischievous gleam in my own ones. 

Just as Brian’s about to say something, I assume along the lines of ‘lets get on the road I’m tired of talking about sucking dicks’, there’s a distinct voice begging for our attention. Or rather, Rogers. 

The blonde girl from the gig is walking towards us, her smile as bright as this bands future. The arm around me slowly slips off, as if he was ashamed to be in such close proximity to me, and I don’t bother looking at Roger before heading into the bus. I really don’t want to deal with my best friend flirting with someone tonight. The man I’m pretty sure my stupid head has decided to fall in love with. I beeline for my bunk and pretty much dive in, not caring that I’m still wearing the dress I wore to the gig. My capacity for dealing with constant unintentional rejection has reached its peak, and I’m over it. It tires me just trying to be around Roger at this point, when all it does is hurt me. And worst of all, I can’t be mad with him. It’s impossible. With a small huff, I burry my head in my pillow and slowly drift off to sleep just as the bus begins to move.

Rogers POV

“What’s gotten into (Y/N) tonight? She never goes to sleep so early. She should be drinking us all to shame right now.” I ask Brian, who’s trying to read one of his books on stars or whatever. Probably something nerdy. He looks up at me from between the pages of the thick book, watching as I light a cigarette and take a slow drag, before shaking his head. John decides to opt out at this stage and go sit with our driver, whereas Freddy walks away to sit at the back of the bus. They’re probably tired of hearing me talking about her so much. 

Did I do something to piss her off? Should I have dedicated my car song so her, like I usually do? Am I not spending enough time with her? Perhaps that’s it. Brian shakes his head, heavy hair shaking like some sort of palm tree amidst a windy day in Hawaii. He sets the book down on the small centre table, before crossing his arms and leaning back against the sofa with one of his signature ‘shits about to get personal’ looks.

“I would really love to take a look inside of your head, just to see what goes on in there. Because by the looks of it, not much.” He sighs, cocking his head to the side. 

I scowl at him, standing up and beginning to pace in the limited space we have. Almost obsessively, I take drags of the cigarette until there’s nothing but the burnt filter left. If he thinks he can just insult me without even minimal help, then he can go fuck himself. 

“You know what? Fuck you and your self-righteous ass.” I growl and brace myself against the kitchen counter. Why are women so difficult? No, let me rephrase. Women aren’t that difficult. But (Y/N)? It’s like she’s her own specimen at this point. I can’t keep up with her mood swings. If I didn’t know better, I'd go blaming the sudden change of attitude on shark week. 

“Roger, calm down. What I’m trying to say is, the answer is as obvious as Freddy’s love for cats. Think about it. When does she get all bothered? What usually happens around that time?” Brian prods further, obviously knowing the answer, but wanting me to figure it out for myself. 

With a small breath, I sit down opposite him and begin to absentmindedly fiddle with my fingers. Is there a tell-tale sign? It’s been getting worse with her recently, she’s more moody and doesn’t let me touch her as much anymore. She’s my best friend, I’d do anything to make her happy. 

“I don’t know, May. I can’t crack that girl.” I sigh in defeat, officially one step away from taking Fred’s white lizard-like jacket and waving it as the white flag of surrender. 

Brian sighs. “Why do you think she gets so hurt the majority of time we play?” It’s quiet for a few minutes, just the humming of the tour bus and the distant sound of John talking with our driver, and his question hanging heavy in the air. 

Something that happens when we perform? I try to think of what I said, or did, tonight. I analyse every single thing that happened that could have upset her. She was fine before the concert, and during it. It was just after that she became-

“Holy shit Brian you genius!” I exclaim, shooting up from the couch so fast I almost trip over my own feet. How did I not realise before? I mean, I know I can be clueless, but to this extent? How have I not noticed that the best girl for me was hiding right under my nose?

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up, but a smirk of dare I say pride takes place on his face. “Feel free to say that again.” He chuckles, before making a ‘shoo’ motion in the direction of the bunks and picking his book back up. 

“In your dreams mate.” I call over my shoulder, before walking with determination to the bed I know has (Y/N) in it. Sleeping or not, I have a lot of apologising to do, and if all goes well, I’ll be dedicating the next performance of ‘Love of My Life’ to my best friend of 5 years.

I quietly pull aside the curtain, a small smile fighting it’s way to my lips when I see how messy her hair is. It’s like Brian’s on a bad day, but times ten. Gently, I brush some of it out of her eyes, the smile now impossible to stop. She’s beautiful.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” I whisper, slightly blowing wind at her face in an effort to get her up quicker. It just so happens to be my lucky day by the looks of it, as her eyes flutter open, momentary confusion settling in before an annoyed expression appears on her beautiful features. 

“Would it kill you to brush your teeth every once in a while, Rog?” She hisses, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Always one for snappy comments, no matter the time of day. 

I roll my eyes at her, definitely making a mental note of what she said for later. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Listen, (Y/N). I’m not what one calls a good man. I hurt you, and I will forever be sorry about that. I wish I could take it all back, all of those women, the one night stands. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

She’s quiet, absentmindedly biting her lip, as if trying to digest what I just said. And I don’t blame her. I seldom voice feelings like these, especially towards women. 

“I didn’t realise that I’d had my Aston Martin here, in front of me all of these years, and I was just a dumbass chasing after some off-season Morris Marina in the colour beige.” I ramble, frowning and gesticulating left, right and centre. She looks at me in confusion. 

“Hold on. Did you just compare me to a car?” She asks, her voice laced with sleepiness and incredulousness. Her eyes scan my face for a few seconds, presumably looking for a hint of amusement or mischief. But when she doesn’t find any trace of it, her demeanour suddenly becomes serious, almost amorous. 

I crack a small, nervous smile. “ Well, yeah I did. ‘Cause I’m in love with my car.”