#(he was the first keychain I ever drew)

[trucbiduleschouettes]

Thinking about keychains I've made before (mainly for friends)

[toonsforkicks22]

Guess who just met Sean Chiplock at their first ever furry convention 😏

Yeah, he knows who I am now…

Sketched this while waiting to meet him (he liked it!)

Just finished it! I’m thinking of making this into a keychain 💜

I love how conventions put up these blank canvases so artists can share their socials! I drew Sir P lol

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Naked Truths (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the Purchase Your Time series

Summary: It's a late night call that brings you to John's house, and you can tell by his appearance - and his payments - that tonight might just be the time he starts to cross that line of his.

Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, Minors DNI!), blowjobs (male receiving), penetrative sex, oral sex (reader receiving), Reader is gender neutral (genitals vaguely described, no specifics)

Masterlist

Calling you on a random Thursday after two months of radio silence initially thrilled in your stomach and sent earthquakes through your hands as you answered your phone.

“When can I see you?”

“When do you want to?”

“Now.”

After confirming that you only needed a change of comfortable clothes before you’d be able to head over, John hung up first - another indicator that he hadn’t the energy to act like a normal person. Perhaps that should’ve set off alarm bells louder than your curiosity, but this was bringing you real insight to who he was, not what he acted like in front of you. The man who yearned for domesticity but hid behind charm and competence unless you dared to offer that kind of interaction in an open palm.

Within a minute of hanging up, you received your payment straight into your bank account. An overnight stay was indicated by the number of digits.

His house again was the location and it was just as you remembered, except all the lights were off and his truck was not perfectly parked. Before you could exit to investigate, the driver cleared her throat before she handed you a key. No keychain or ring to indicate it had ever been attached to a set before. You accepted and thanked her before closing the car door behind you. The slam and fading of the engine as the car sped away left you in noticeable silence, no greeting, no enticement, nothing but intrigue to bring you to the front door, which you knocked out of habit before trying the key. No surprise was felt when it let you in.

“John?” You called out, taking your shoes off and placing them beside a pair of worn, caked in crap laced boots.

A gruff “In here” led you into the kitchen. At the breakfast bar, John’s back appeared in your vision.“Hi.” You slid the house key across the bar, scraping the marble but not marring it.

John’s hand stopped yours in place, “It’s for you.” As you made a mental note to add that to your John inventory, give it its own identifier so you wouldn’t mix it with any others, John raised his short glass and revealed the heavy amber liquid that sloshed about the bottom of it.“Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.” And only then was your hand released to tuck that key away into your pocket. “How are you doing?”

Pressing the glass against his forehead, John sighed, “Been a day.”

“What can I do for you?”

John sniffed then abandoned the drink on the counter. The breakfast bar stool spun as he stood from it. The ice cubes filled the silence with their tune like a wind chime in a breeze.

In one smooth motion, John’s hands – cool from condensation �� tilted your head and swept you close by the small of your back so that he could kiss you. The oiled bristle of his moustache paired like a fine wine with his lips cushioned on yours. Yet this switch-up from all previous dates had you hyper aware and certainly to the fact that he was walking you backwards, his palm cradling the back of your head so that you didn’t feel the brunt of the wall when he pressed you against it. Your own hands had latched onto his neck and midriff in the crossfire, tickled by this absence of restraint and annoyed when John drew away with a sigh and an apology. You calmly demanded for an reason behind his quiet “sorry”.

“Grabbing you like that,” was his explanation.

“I’m fine. You wanted to, I wanted to,” You replied, “It’s quite literally my job. I’m like a therapist you can fuck.”

Unfortunately, your humour resulted in John letting out an empty laugh and freeing you from his hold. But you were determined to get a real reaction out of him, so you pressed on his bruise a little more. “I’m serious. I’m hear for whatever you need: hearing out your problems, talking about things you can’t tell anyone else, whatever you want.”

Knocking back the rest of his drink, ice cubes clashing into his teeth, John swallowed then scoffed, “Is that how you see me? Just like any other client?”

“I see you wanting something, and you wanted that with me, which is why you called me. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.”

“Maybe you should be a therapist,” John tipped his glass over in the sink, letting it flip and fall an inch from his grip onto the draining board. Even though you’d made the connection, you wished he’d stop telling you to be in other professions, as if that would solve his hang-up over not having a real relationship.

“Couldn’t stand the paperwork,” You approached him, rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades whilst knowing you could never sneak up on him. “What’s got you feeling like this?”

“I can’t talk about it.” And his head hung as he pressed into the sideboard.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

This man with all his padlocks and precautions, preventing you from knowing anything he didn’t want you to – and there was so much left for you to learn about him. But it seemed there was still some learning on his part too. His mental hurdle, with the reminders that you were willing and funded for his delight, was one you would not trip or turn from.

So you hooked his chin and made him face you, “Then don’t.”

When you kissed him again, you let him pull you between him and the sink. Fists in your clothes, desperate to free your skin, John barely drew away from breath – enoughthat his lips still graced over yours when he spoke:

“I’m not in a patient mood.”

You held back a smile, “You know the limits and I know the safe word. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Gecko.”

“There’s nothing more to it then.”

Grappling with your clothes, You knew he’d take you right there on the counter if you let him No, he wanted a domestic paradise spiked with homespun thrills.

A risk worth taking, to get him to recognise how much he wanted this, you tore yourself from him to race your heartrate up the stairs to his room, the thudding of John skipping steps to capture you shooting adrenaline through your chest. Fear, manufactured fear that felt just like the real thing, trapped your breath and giggles in your constricted throat, growing tighter with every step climbed.

All air was snatched from your lungs as he grabbed you in the doorway, slamming you up against a chest of drawers, knocking over whatever knick-knacks or trinkets he had out. His mouth was hot on your chest from the second he pulled your shirt off. You found yourself fisting his hair to keep his mouth on you, his spit leaving paths of where he’d given you attention. Fingers dug his nails in like he burying to be beneath your skin. Crescent moons were left behind amongst his scars through his tight shirt as you matched his vigour.

“Say you want this,” John whispered into your neck.

“I want this,” You whined as his teeth threatened to make a meal of you.

“Again.”

“I want this, John. Please. I want it now.”

But still, he stopped, panting and squeezing your cheeks, your chin caught in the V of his finger and thumb. He pulled his forehead to yours.

“Tell me you want this,” He repeated.

Keening into him, your nose dragged you close to breathe him in. You licked your lips, like a wolf lavishing in the blood that dripped from them, cleaning of the kill in preparation for the next.

“John, I want you.”

The same absence of any personal touches in his bedroom would’ve caught your attention more, at all, if it weren’t for how viciously John ripped at your trousers, whipping them from your legs like a bedsheet fresh of a washing line. The ripple effect through your body sealed you close to him, seeking out a solution to the wet problem growing between your legs.

The slowest he’d acted was when he carried you to his bed. Legs around his waist, hoisting you and pressing you into the wall, stabilising himself, he left a bitemark on your neck before he moved you. His hands squeezed tight on your thighs before releasing you to fall onto the duvet.

For a moment, barely a second, John grabbed at his side. A wrinkle ironed itself free from his brow as soon as it appeared. You could hear him supress the hiss through his teeth, hiding the sound somewhere in his chest. Once his shirt was gone with the wind, you saw why: scar tissue on his mid torso, red with recency so not from this last work trip, at least. It did absolutely nothing in terms of inhibiting his desires, his teeth latching onto the skin of your collarbones again. You decided to curb his enthusiasm a little, though not to dispel the swelling in his jeans that was being rubbed up against your thigh.

Your knees were grateful for the pillow beneath them as you knelt on the floor and kissed his belly, your teeth threatening to pluck at the ridges. You could feel how John stared down at you. It pleased you when he cupped your chin as you undid his belt, and you smiled at him while he did his best not to pant at how smoothly yet hungrily you freed him from his underwear.

You sucked on your bottom lip for a second before repeating: “I want to.”

And you did.Scruffing the back of John’s neck, you pulled him down for a kiss, dipping into his mouth to stun him before you pulled away and spat on his cock with a concoction of yours and his. Your tongue lapped at the head of his cock and spread across his sensitive skin, following down the vein like a road on a map.

John’s sharpened breath kept you fuelled, both savouring this appetizer that was hefty on your tongue and his mood. His eyes were creased shut like the bedsheets he gripped in both fists, the adorable slope in his eyebrows peaked in the centre as he began to surrender to you. You continued to seek out his pleasure, feeling him fill your mouth deeper and deeper with each return.

At last, he needed no encouragement from you. His paw-like hand coaxed you from the back of your head, insisting that your nose be tickled by his curled pubic hairs. Droopy eyelids and a softened throat let him take the lead like he wanted to. Your thumb was throttled in your fist to hide your gag reflex, the other hand teasing his . Still, tears began brewing as he stuffed himself into your mouth. Deep breaths flooded your lungs with sweat and salt condensation.  

When John brought you back up and pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue stroked in your mouth like he’s searching for something you haven’t said. You didn’t know why that made you nervous; you had nothing to hide, right?

The pads of his fingers traced down to you, smearing your arousal across your sex. He honed in on it like a beacon and tenderly petted you. His deliberate pace riled you up at an alarming rate, nails digging through his hairy forearm, to stop or hasten him. Either way, delightful as he drew control from you, eyes drooping and mouth agape to free the gasps. Somewhere, seemingly far away, you heard yourself ask for more as you felt yourself building up and up.

“Later,” and John licked his fingers clean, “I need to be inside of you now.”

You remembered, then, that he was the client. So you put your disappointment aside and opened your legs wider for him.

However, as he was positioning himself, John’s fingers dug in and he let out a different type of grunt, more strained than a release.You opened your eyes to find him grabbing at the back of his left thigh, squeezing in an attempt to soothe the cramp that had ruined his stamina. Before you could stop him, he planted his hands either side of you and went to lean. Swiftly he was cut off by a wince with his nose and eyes crinkled. His hand found his thigh again.

“Sit back,” You instructed, and he knew what you were getting at. Let me.

The manoeuvre wasn’t smooth but it got you over him. Whilst you settled into his lap, he had retrieved a condom and a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. Delight swirled in your stomach at the thought of John buying it in anticipation for a meeting with you, or even just to ease his nights alone. It combined nicely with the shivers sent through his calloused fingertips as he massaged the lube around your hole, finishing the work to open you up to him. Within the minute, he was pulling you down on him, resting your forehead to his, John matching your breathing’s pace.

When he asked, you affirmed: “I’m ready, I want this.”

Controlling your pace, John took things slow to start. All that effort towards your orgasm that was lost began building up, even if it got distracted by John’s hand awkwardly trying to rub your sex whilst you grinded on top of him.

“Not there,” You tapped his wrist to make him move, gripping around it when he met your demands, “There. That’s it.”

A contrived head roll helped you avoid his stare and all its intensity. It wasn’t all an act; you were definitely enjoying yourself. But you had to pad the role a little to make sure he knew that too. You were doing a fantastic job, you thought, until John pinched your chin and forced you to stare him down.

“Tell me I’m a good man,” He huffed.

You did as you were told: “You’re so good for me.”

“Again.”

“You’re a good man, John. You’re my good man.”

He had you repeat it a few more times, his movements getting sloppier but nevertheless determined to get you both across the finish line. His teeth graced your shoulder as he rocked into you. His arms locked you in and you groaned at the prickle of his bite and his beard.

At last, you made it to release. Breathing slowly through it, a smile broke onto your face as it rippled through you. It was amplified by the harmonising noises John made, the feeling of him filling that condom up, his body up against yours in ridges and curves. When he slumped against you, you squeezed around him a few more times – just to be sure.

You leant against his head, kissing the sweaty cowlick whilst enjoying him knead your ass in a slow rhythm of clasp and release – like a stress toy. He was keeping you in the afterglow.

“You ok?”

“Hmm.” His hand found the back of your neck to make you look at him once he raised his head back up, “Are you?”

“You took such good care of me,” and you nuzzled your nose to his, “No ropes though?”

“Told you, I’m in no mood for patience.”

“That strikes me as out of character for you.”

John gave a one note hum again, “Next time, I’ll take all the time I need.”

“Sure you can handle that?”

Confidence returned, John’s slitted eyes sparkled as he smiled, kissing you with his arms pulling you in close, no air between your skin and his and only allowing a gasp in that vacuum when he needed to remove the condom. He delivered on your aftercare clause with the affection he sought himself, you combing your nails through his beard and kissing the flattened hairs whilst he cleaned you with a cloth and kisses. After, he curled up beside you, keeping you close. You’d known you would be staying as soon as you’d seen how much he was paying you, so this was no surprise. You made yourself content rising and falling on this furnace of a man’s chest.Of course, you’d have to roll over once he was out if you wanted any chance to get some rest, but this was fine for now. Until-

“One of the times we were together,” John whispered, his thumb tracing the same arc of skin on your back, “Before I left, I told you about my day plans. You asked me if you could help, instead of if I wanted you to stick around.” He took in and appreciated a deep breath, his grip on you tightening for a second. “Felt nice.”

Raising your head, you couldn’t stop your brow from creasing at his words: “What are you worrying about?”

“Not worried, but not foolin’ myself either.”

But this was what he wanted to be told. He made it clear when you first met: he wanted some sense of a reality he was prohibited from. He wanted to hear you say this, and who were you to refuse a paying customer?

You made sure he was looking at you before you spoke, resting in his chest with your nose brushing against his, “I want to be here, John. I want to be here with you.”

You slid off John’s chest as he shifted onto his side, taking your wrists into his hands and all the while keeping you locked in a stare with him. Intensity darkened his eyes and sent a chill through your back that locked up. Goosebumps pulled you back against John.

“Say it again,” He said hoarsely, “Please.”

You swallowed before speaking, “I want to be here with you.”

His lips lunged onto yours, his tongue yearning for more of your taste and only freeing you from his intoxicating kisses to demand another: “Again.”

“I want to be with you.”

The way his leg notched between yours rushed your heartrate; his hands were guiding your hips to grind upon it.

“I want you too,” He grunted against your gasps.

“I know.”

Next thing you knew, you were pinned back into the mattress and your whined efforts were ignored whilst John parted your thighs and feasted upon you. Any woes about professionality and separating truth from work were forgotten. All that mattered was his tongue and the way his lines by his eyes formed, as pleased to see you undone as you had been for him.

-----------

AN: There's a dark!version of this in my drafts that I'll post later, but also the brain worms are wriggling around putting Price through a Gone Girl situation still sooooo we'll see when that happens. Soon hopefully!

[fumifooms]

I WENT TO A COOOOON I finished pinning my bag just in time for it!! It was a small one but still my first one ever omg it was great. Someone recognized Marcille but not Chilchuck </3 People judged my ships on 3 different instances for 3 different ships, I got visibly emotional over Alois Trancy, I bought a Denji figure, it was great

I have preordered keychains and whatnot on the way still so I’ll def be updating my itabag composition + moving stuff around sort of soon, will give an update once it’s freshened up! Info on all the merch + some extra pics under read more Blue & green <3

Second pic is two custom badges I drew!! Never had bubble tea before so it acts as a con souvenir, + blorbos

The itabag: link, by Iconografi

Bootlegs but artist is bkub

Bootlegs of official merch

Official art but edited to make nice badges (I thought the anime celebration artwork ones were official ngl

Keychains by 118ween

Keychains by Sleepywyrm, link

Loot Anime crate pin

Keychains by SolelleArt, link

Keychains by ACertainSheep, link

Keychain and charms by Aguichart

Ok that’s it for now~ To quote a buddy:

I’m not used to having such high quality figures…… He fits so perfectly in my hand 🥹

[seeminglydark]

Been inspired lately to think of origins of the ufo keychain. John usually has it, but I drew a piece of them as teens where Caro has it when they bought their car. Where did it come from? Who does it belong too? But it’s always been a fun little thing I hide in many of my pieces, and ever since @fidgetspringer actually cast and made me my very own, it’s on my mind a lot. The reason I draw it in the first place is because I had a friend who was very special to me and helped me discover my gender identity who had a tiny arcade prize ufo on their pink fjellraven backpack, and it was incredibly nostalgic to me, cuz you can’t find them anymore.

Maybe its origin involves a day trip to Seattle, a boy who’s embarrassed he doesn’t have any money to get a birthday present for his sweet little friend, and a sweet little friend who happens to think arcade prizes are especially special when won for them by their favorite person in the world <3

[sebsxphia]

ninety days.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: rhett’s there when you come home with a milestone.

￫ c/w: a/a meetings, c/a meetings, drug and alcohol use and sobriety.

￫ a/n: i went to my first ever cocaine anonymous group tonight and i got a ninety day chip! i was incredibly nervous, but to comfort myself i thought up of this lil’ drabble and i wanted to share it. i hope you enjoy it and it provides any level of comfort to you as well! <3 my ‘sobriety’ masterlist can be found here! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

You stepped out of the truck and shut the door behind you. The sound of the door slamming and the jingle of your keys echoed endlessly throughout the empty night sky. Your limbs were restless and your eyes were bleary, but the familiar glow of the porch light drew you closer to home and comfort. Rural Wabang had thus far, no groups and you found yourself having to travel over an hour west for your nearest group. It was worth it though. Worth what was now dangling off your keychain.

“Hey, lover.” You called out to Rhett. You spotted him the moment you stepped inside and kicked off your boots. He was perched on the kitchen table and hunched over. He was engrossed in a book about cabin building you’d got him last Valentine’s.

Rhett looked up, catching your eye and a grin broke out onto his face. You’d walked through that door countless times, but it still made Rhett over the moon to see you home and safe.

“Hey, darlin’. How you doin’? How was it?” Like clockwork, Rhett got up from his seat, gave you a kiss to your chilled lips and you placed yourself down at the kitchen table with your keys.

You hummed in thought, “Good. Davey was there. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he’s getting better. Two weeks clean, I think he said.”

“That’s good. I saw his girl in town, I think they’re tryin’ make it work again.” Rhett replied as he busied himself with getting your half of dinner out of the microwave. Whilst he plated up your food and grabbed you a fork, you drew your attention back to your keys on the kitchen table. You fiddled with them gently and your thumb smoothed over the blue and gold painted chip.

“I got it.”

“Got—” Rhett started to question what you meant as he came up beside you to hand you your plate, but in turn he saw what you were fiddling with. “Oh, baby. You got it.”

The plate was pushed onto the table and Rhett threw his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his warm torso. With your ear pressed up against his chest and through the rumbling vibrations, you could hear an endless string of praises coming from your cowboy. He bent down to press what felt like a million and one kisses to the top of your head before pulling away.

He cupped your soft cheeks in his contrasting rough and calloused hands. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes found their placing and his cobalt blue eyes bore into yours with love. “I’m so proud of you, m’ love.” Your own hands held onto his and gave them a light squeeze in response.

“Thank you, Rhett,” you beamed up at him.

Rhett pulled out the kitchen chair next to you and slung one arm around the back of your chair. He tucked you into his side as you made good work of your dinner, savoring the sweet taste of each bite. “What’d y’ wan’ do? We gotta do somethin’ this evenin’.”

Again, you hummed as you pondered Rhett’s question and the best way to celebrate your ninety days. “Bath. With bubbles and the rose bath bomb.”

Rhett wore a lopsided grin at your playful tone and he pressed another sweet kiss to your temple. “Anything for my sweet cowgirl.”

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : new years?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Christmas...

SUNNY'S SO CUTE AUGHHHHHHH... I drew a twitter mental breakdown emote trust me I'm going through it. Sunny looks so cute. My roommate and I have a black cat called sesame bun, but she doesn't register on polaroids or film so I cry a little each time I see photos of her. Wish I had your number so I could send you photos of her, but that's against FOATA policy, so... oopsie.

You forgot to get their number?? That's an insane thing to say. How do you just casually— okay, well, on that topic, I forgot to get the number of the dude I was making out with on new years as well. It doesn't help that I was so drunk that I barely remember what he looks like. All I know is that he was hot and at the same new years party as me. I don't even remember what he called me. He was just so... hot. Okay, sorry, this isn't about me. This is about you. YEAH. I'M SHAMING YOU FOR NOT GETTING THEIR NUMBER (joke) And, yes, you used it right)

We're friends. I promise lol.

I live with my best friend! We're actually day ones and when she started working her current job, I was there with her at her first event. I can't say too much about her, but we've lived together ever since. I'm like... her stay-at-home best friend? Something like that. I earn less than she does, and she bought the whole apartment with her first paycheck, so now I just do everything that a husband would. Basically, I cook and clean on days I don't work and I dry her hair for her after her showers.

She helped me a lot (well, I live in her apartment so there's that) and I just love her so much :(.

The other two in our little group in high school also went into the same industry as her, except in different directions, so we see them every now and then. Sisters before misters or whatever. She and I are 4 lifers.

As for stuff about me... not too much to say. I told you all of my defining factors already. Sesame bun was adopted when we first got the house, so she's like four years old now. Cute little girl. I attached a keychain I ended up winning from another Ada event. I have one already, so I figured it would be better in your hands.

Hope you get that model's number, scrambled eggs

You seal the letter and toss it on your bedstand by your phone and head to the kitchen instead of bed because 1. you're hungry, 2. you're hungry, 3. you're hungry. You want a quick snack.

"Hey." Ada raises a brow at you at the sight of your laptop in hand. "Killing half of your reading population again?"

"It's just the comfort now." You yawn. "I want ramen."

"Shin noodles is not ramen." Ada pauses. "Also, no. You're cutting for your next shoot, remember?"

"God, can't they CGI it or something? God forbid a human eat for once." You huff, grabbing a pack of konjac jelly instead, huffing as you pop open your laptop. "I hate this industry."

"It's not that you can't eat."

"Where's the medicine for blood sugar?"

"You already had one today. You'll be fine." Ada hands you a jerky packet, and you groan in bliss.

"China my beloved."

Ada rolls her eyes, going back to her phone to text her relatives again. "Anything you want mailed this time?"

"阿尔卑斯..." You mumble. "Alps lollipops my beloved... please..."

"I'll let them know. Anything else?"

"QQ gummies are here now, huh?"

"Yeah." She pauses. "Let's have them mail some anyway."

"Love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Anything else that they can legally mail over?"

"Oh, I want gum."

"Extra?"

"Yuh. The white packaging one." You grin. "I'll dedicate this chapter to you again."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." You blow a kiss at her, and she rolls her eyes.

"Sap."

"I'M HURT."

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[pestercide]

14, 15 & 17 for the ask meme?? :3

14. Do you own any official merch? If not, what is one piece of existing merch that you wish you own? Is there anything that you wish it existed already?

Yeah!! I think my first pieces of merch were those Skid and Pump plushies, though they were the smaller/older ones. I also got a Bob plushie, the Tender Treats poster, some stickers and one of the shirts (it's the one with Bob, Streber, Skid and Pump!! I love the design sm!!)

I also ordered some of the merch from when Hollow Sorrows released! Still waiting for it to arrive but if I remember correctly I got the Moloch plushie (ofc), two shirts and the pins and stickers!!

And of the merch I don't have I'd honestly love to get my hands on this shirt with The Eyes on it (and the keychains,, they're so cute :3) plus the cassette and/or CD

15. From fanart or fanfiction, did someone's work made you think more positively of a character/ship? Free free to shout them out, whether if it's one person or multiple people!

YES!!! This applies to a few characters/ships actually so I worry I can't remember everyone but I'll try my best to list em here :3

Loki/Dexter (they aren't on Tumblr) made me really appreciate Dexter Erotoph!! I absolutely adore the way they analyse and talk about him and it made me start to think about not only Dexter on a deeper level but other characters too. Not to mention they also got me into Ratcandy and Sunnycide (the way they write them makes me giggle and kick my feet :3)

@shvggot made me care more about Ignacio!! I was never a fan of him or even cared about him for that matter but thanks to Shaggy I started thinkin about Ignacio more and even started drawing him and coming up with headcanons!!

@itsnotmourn Made me absolutely adore Carmen and Richard,, There's a lot but I'll keep it simple and say that I was never a fan of Carmen or Richard and even disliked them at some point, but the way Mourn depicts them and their relationship warms my heart,, Heck the way they draw the family in general makes me super happy (so ig Roy is included too??) Also I LOVE how they draw Jaune and Aaron!!!!

@yalibat OHHH he made me appreciate Rick more cuz he draws Rick soooo good,, The Rick artist ever,, ALSO JUST IN GENERAL THE WAY HE DRAWS THE SM CHARACTERS IS SOOOOO GOOD!!!!!!! I also feel like for some reason Kevin, Radford and The Hatzgang counts even if he doesn't draw them as much?? (Y'know he just drew them in such a way that changed my brain chemistry about em /pos)

@eatyourmaker THERE'S SO MUCH!! But mainly they really got me to appreciate Fieryfaith and even Ignacio and Father Gregor as separate characters!! And ofc Jadedego!! I was never much into it til they started drawing them!!

@jacenotjason MAYOR EVERMORE!! Do I have to say more? Like,, y'all got me carin about the character I used to hate?? Also does it count if it's an AU of a character?? Cuz I LOVE zir Opposite Gregor!! I'm counting it cuz it's technically Father Gregor pff

@wosieposiecozy I can't say a specific character but their art just manages to make every character great,, Just check it out and see for yourself PLEASE

THERE'S DEFINITELY MORE BUT I SUCK AT COMING UP WITH EVERYTHIN ON THE SPOT!! But if I'm followin you and you're a Spooky Month fanartist then there's a good chance you're the reason I started to appreciate a character/ship more :D So don't feel bummed if I didn't include you

I already answered 17 here!!

[sobeksewerrat]

Mini-Drew-Analysis for His Birthday!!

Since yesterday was my lovely Drewy-bear's birthday, I decided to write a bullshit little blurb talking about how I interpret his character, and how much (I think) people misinterpret his aggression during the drakeup.

I won't include anything about the music club, since it has been a while since I rewatched the series as a whole and memories of them interacting with Drew are kinda rusty and that deserves its own essay.

Like the Milly/Ep.3 post, I *might* briefly mention a lot of my own trauma or experiences and compare them to Drew's behaviours, so apologies in advance if that bothers you.

Now, firstly, I would like to establish his major relationships in the show since most of his characterization comes from said relationships.

ZOEY:

Droey is arguably Drew's second-most-important relationship, despite the lack of screentime (which I am really salty about).

Now, whilst I love the aroace and gay Drew headacanons, I think we can all agree that he did love Zoey to some extent. The photo in Zoey's room and the fact that he is willing to fulfil her ever wish are proof enough in my eyes.

Drew's love-language is gift-giving (same, Drew, same). It was been confirmed that his parents get him everything they want since HIS FIRST APPEARANCE.

"Well, they bought it for me last night!"

I'm mostly theorising here, but going off of this alone: Drew's parents have been (and still are) very absent in his life.

They couldn't give him enough attention nor affection when he was a kid so they just opted to shove lavish gifts and money in his face to show him their [persumed] love for him.

So, Drew grew up with the virtue that love is mainly expressed through money and expensive gifts ingrained into his head since he was a young child.

He only buys gifts for people he deeply loves and cares about, it's not just a way of flexing or getting people to like him (more on that in the Jake part).

Drew loved Zoey, from the bottom of his heart, so he bought her everything she asked for and took her on dates to the mall regularly to show her how deep his affection for her is.

That's why he was so concerned and "suspicious" when she stopped asking for so many gifts.

He wasn't worried that she was "cheating", he was worried that she didn't loved him anymore, that she was going to leave him.

Moreover, Drew is a very distrustful person by nature, and those he trusts, he trusts deeply.

Those are the only people he allows himself to be emotional around or express his interests and hobbies to, but even then he still has an invisible wall surrounding him.

He lets them be close enough to understand him on a surface level, but not close enough to see his true colours and vulnerabilities (same, Drew, same ×2. Also, Milly parallel!!).

Zoey was naturally one of those few people he trusted, and she broke that trust.

That's why he was so hurt after Zoey left him. He trusted her, he was willing to go to the ends of the earth for her, he loved her.

But she cheated on him. She took advantage of him. She broke his trust.

And even without all of the above, anybody would get scarred and hurt by their partner cheating on them, manipulating them, and using them for money (trust me, I am speaking from personal experience here).

Well, Zoey betrayed him...at least his other friends are still-

HENRIAM:

WRONG. THEY HURT HIM TOO.

Let me elaborate.

We don't get enough screentime to see Drenriam interact so I can't write about them separately (FUXK YOU JAKE AND THE NUSIC FREKA DFOR HOGFINF ALL THE SCREENTOME).

But, we know Drew cares about them. And they know it too.

"Come on, you know you love us" (Henry, Ep5)

And Drew doesn't respond. He just blushes, rolls his eyes and stays silent, which I think is confirmation enough.

"buT hE iS mEAn tO tHeM!1!1" I hear a Drew-anti cry from afar while clutching their limited-edition Jailey keychains.

My guy, my gal, my enby pal, do you even HAVE friends?!?

You're only nice for the first month or so and THAT'S IT, you've gone past the expiry date of nice and become mean and brutally insult each other lightheartedly and call each other "Freak" affectionately. Sometimes it takes even less than that.

Again, they were two of the only few people he trusted.

And they also broke that trust by hiding Zoey's cheating from him. They even think about her gold-digging as JOKE (flashback to ep2 opening scene).

"They were blackmailed!!"

I don't even think I have the patience to elaborate on why that is a stupid fucking excuse. Zoey had no dirt on Jake, no?

They could have told him to tell Drew, or they could have just told him but tell him not to tell Zoey they were the ones who told on her or whatever.

I think the only reason Drew stuck with them during the finale was because he was truly alone. He had nobody else, so he stuck with the last shred of his life before Jake left, even if he hated them now (still can't wait for the Drake-up 2.0, where Drew breaks off his friendship with Henriam and falls into deep, deep depression<44).

(WAIT FUCK THEN DRIAM WONT BE CANON SH-)

Lia(and why Dria /p will never happen imo):

Yeah no it won't happen. Lia distanced herself from Zoey,and she will definitely start hanging out with Jake and the others and completely ditch the Dromies.

Yknow just completely cut off Drew from any form of emotional support system let him SUFFER

JAKE:

Oh the dreaded part-

Here we go ig.

Jake sucks. He was a horrible friend. That is the thesis, that is the topic sentence, that is what I will start with.

Let me just document every major shitty thing Jake did that I can remember atm.

1. He blackmailed Zoey and hid the fact that she was cheating on Drew from him, which breaks his trust (I elaborated on this more in my ep.3 analysis!!)

2. He lied to Drew about being grounded to ditch him for club practice, I am not even gonna try to explain why that is super shitty anybody with 2 braincells and 2 milligrams of basic human decency (which Jake apparently lacks) should be able to realize this on their own. Especially since Drew clearly has trust and attachment issues (his clearly possessive nature of Jake, being that he is one of the closest people to home). Actually, he also lied to him at the end of ep1 wtmf

3. Trying to give his laptop away to Sean. It isn't even about how rude it is to give away an expensive gift, it is about how oblivious Jake is to Drew's feelings. He doesn't even CARE about what Drew feels at all.

Drew feels like Jake is his closest friend, like he's the only person who truly understands him, when this shows that it is quite the opposite in fact.

Jake doesn't understand that it is more than just an expensive gift given by a spoiled kid with too much money to spend. It is a symbol of how much Drew loves him (platonically or otherwise). All of the gifts he buys for him are.

Drew is emotionally-constipated. We (sadly) don't get to see how they met exactly (only one picture to elude to it). But, I think I have an idea.

Drew sees Jake, a loner who's bullied by everyone and sitting all alone. He feels bad and wants to talk to him. He doesn't know how to approach him, so he tries the only way he knows.

All of his other friends and classmates would always seem impressed and fawn over him whenever his parents would buy him something new, so maybe it would work this time?

So he approaches Jake, and offers to let him play with his new switch, because that is the only possible way (in his head) to talk to him.

It is not like Jake doesn't value Drew, but this shows how little he actually knows; that him trying to fit in has caused him to completely misunderstand Drew. Idk man I don't really like Jake so I don't like analysing him please any jake kinnie try to explain.

Now, Jake has been spending a lot of time with the music club, and that has been triggering Drew's attachment issues. What was so great about those freaks anyway??

That whole scene in ep.9 was just his attachment and validation issues on full display, an essay on jagged--dust-jacket-analysis explains way better than I ever could, so check it out!!

When Jake yells at him and leaves in ep.10 and implies that there is something Zoey is hiding it...it breaks him, for all the reasons I stated before.

After Henriam explain everything, it just confuses and hurts him more.

But why would Jake hide this from him? Wasn't he his best friend? Why is he apologising to those freaks, but not him?!

It must be that Hailey girl, she is the one fucking with his head.

He'll confront her. He'll expose her for the fraud she is, and then Jake wi-

(Look please bear with me on this part ik the drake up is a meme now but please let us try to treat it seriously for once)

"Back off, Drew"

Jake chose the freaks. Jake is defending them.

"The club is what I care about- MY FRIENDS!"

His friends?? What was he??

This...this was all for Daisy wasn't it?

What passion was he talking about?!

He never told them anything!!

Why would he hide Zoey's cheating from him!?

Wasn't he his best friend?!

Was he lying to them this whole time..?

"You're right. Drew, Henry, Liam, I'm sorry,"

He is sorry. Drew didn't bother listening to the rest. It was basically confirming what he'd already concluded.

Jake lied to him.

They all did.

"I'm sorry"

Those words were meaningless.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, that's what they all said!

Accepting this apology would make him seem weak.

Allowing Jake to abandon him would make him weak.

Breaking down crying would make him weak.

Apologising, when he'd done absolutely nothing wrong in his own eyes, would make him weak.

And if there is one thing Drew hated more than anything else, it is appearing weak.

Appearing vulnerable, letting people take advantage of him like all of his friends and his girlfriend did.

"I'm done with you,"

Drew walked away without making eye contact with anybody. He didn't even look to see if Henry and Liam were following him, and he frankly didn't care.

They were all assholes anyways.

They all used him.

Nobody mattered to him anymore. He was fine before meeting them, he'd definitely be fine without them, right?

Drew was leaving them all behind, he'd cut them out.

He would be better off without them.

Conclusion/Closing Thoughts:

I must admit, this did turn fanfic-y midway and it is not the most well-put together, I was really rushing to finish this.

A lot of what I am describing here is my subjective opinion and what I percieve ad Drew's P.O.V, not the objective facts.

Another confession I must make is that most of what is here is just me projecting a few months of therapy sessions onto Drew. My therapist dissected a lot of internal issues with me naturally, and they served to help me understand myself better and realize how much of my own issues applied on Drew aswell.

As I progress with my therapy and learn more about my own baggage, I might be able to remove the biased lens that I am seeing Drew through and might write a more well-constructed and objective analysis of him in the near future.

For now, however, this is all I have. Hope you liked it!! Happy late-birthday to Drewy Bear, and have a great day/night everybody!!!

[lilyofthevalleyys]

ok so here’s how i think the marauders, skittles and valkyries would gift presents (because christmas is coming soon :D)

James - DIY presents that may or may not turn out to be a wreck, but they are very thoughtful. He also spends a long time writing and decorating heartfelt letters (the first time Reg received one he cried (and Sirius too))

Sirius - will also DIY presents with James, but his turns out to be a disaster and so instead he buys and personalises gifts that he knows will be used often and lights up every time he sees them use it

Remus - basically like Molly Weasley. He knits sweaters for them all according to how he knows they will like. And he often throws small quotes on the sleeves and little designs

Peter - he bakes all sorts of goodies for them and package them and he’ll write things on the wrapping as well, maybe a fun memory they shared or a drawing of it.

-

Regulus - he will buy things. Expensive things because (unlike me) he’s rich af. However, they are thoughtful things that he heard they needed, such as high quality drawing supplies for Pandora’s art and several quality notebooks for Lily’s journaling.

Pandora - DIY the prettiest things ever, like dreamcatchers, little knick knacks and keychains of things she drew/painted. Her wrapping skills are the best out of all of them as she can wrap the oddly shaped items very well. When they did the ‘wrap the gift nothing like what it is’ challenge, she easily won.

Barty - he also tries his hand at DIY every year, but fails every time and procrastinates them. In the end, he gets them gag/prank gifts that are terribly wrapped. The others all love it though, as much as they tease him about it, and they’ll keep whatever it is.

Evan - like Regulus, he keeps track of what the others say they want and gets them that. So often he buys the more household-like items, such as blankets, pillows, plants, so on and so forth.

Dorcas - She gets them personalised things. Whether it’s books, clothes, keychains etc, she will get them personalised somehow or another. She has several contacts as well, and sometimes she will get a signed copy of a book Regulus, Remus, Lily or Evan wants. And the personalised items are special of course, and the others love them.

-

Lily - also keeps a list of what the others would like. Similar to Sirius, she gives the most practical gifts, one that others will use often, such as a fitness watch for James or a motorcycle helmet for Sirius. She also gets Pandora to help her wrap gifts every time, but refuses to let Pandora wrap her own gift. So under the tree (which has piles and piles of gifts), there will be neatly wrapped gifts in the same wrapping paper, and one slightly badly wrapped gift that everyone knows is Pandora’s.

Marlene - will get gag/prank gifts with Barty, and give them first as a joke. Then she’ll bring out actual gifts, mostly things that she knows will be of use. She gets food most of the time, but the food she chooses are amazing and everyone likes them.

Mary - she gets clothing most of the time, things she knows will suit them and they will like, eg sunglasses, shoes, jackets etc. They are easily the fanciest things some of them own. But of course, they will wear it.

[paytato435]

“I don’t care, I haven’t snuck out like this in weeks!” Donnie answered before turning and flipping dramatically into the shadows. He scuttled along the wall like a bug until he could peak around the next corner. Tim just casually walked along behind him.

Chapter art for Chapter 10 of Snapper and Stinkpot, THE BUG.

Timothy belongs to @/PineTreeVillain (I linked him on the actual fanfic chapter, not sure what the proper etiquette here is, lol)

Also fun fact, the reference art I used to draw Tim had him with a chain hanging from his jeans, but I literally drew Angel with a chain on hers last week so I switched it up and gave him a little keychain instead. His keyfob is the same as my car. Would Tim drive a Miata? I don't fucking know. Gave him a Septic Sam too to match the t-shirt (of himself?) he wears, hee hee.

Y’all it took 10 chapters but we are here! The plot is plotting, the art is arting, I am so happy with what I have putting out on this silly blog for the last two months, it’s been fucking crazy. I’ve never done fan art or written anything this substantial ever, it is so creatively fulfilling and I just want to thank everyone who likes and reblogs these posts because y’all have no idea how fucking excited I get when I get feedback on it. I’ve never been more happy in my life, no fucking lie. Thank you so so much, but especially to @lizardlover67 , @entspiderty , @spl00n , @theosb0rnway , @allyheart707 and @caaaaaww for being so supportive in my art journey.

Gonna blab about the art now for a moment because I want to! I cannot believe it took me this long to post art about Donatello. He is the 10/10 the best turtle, and all I have to show my love is a handful of stupid doodles from over a week ago. It's probably a crime, honestly. I need to draw him more; him and Raph, their heads just give me so much trouble idk what it is, but I haven't figured them out yet. I have more trouble drawing Donnie than I did Tim and this is literally the second time I've drawn Tim (and the first was just a dumbass doodle I never posted lmao.) I have a bunch of alternate art that I had drafted up for this that will come out later this week, as well as a draft comic I never posted where April was breaking into the school with Donnie instead. And... I'm sure I've probably said enough now. It's late, and I gotta write chapter twelve or something, idk (this is a scheduled post).

I love it here, hope y’all have a wonderful day. 🥹

[kryscent]

an offering at my temple, blood on the altar

pairing: ch.221!gojo satoru x gn! reader, established relationship

wc: 1.5k

notes,cw: fluff, angst, i wrote this a long time ago. how i wish it still held true.

Most wouldn’t associate the word peace with Gojo Satoru, honestly speaking. 

Are 19 days too short or too long?

19 days and you’d gotten used to the empty spot in the pile hidden in your closet where you’d collected all the weird gifts Gojo had gotten for the kids, that they’d returned to you. 

Yuuta had come over to collect his share a few days prior.

He’d sat with you in demure silence at the balcony of your apartment, nursing a cup of tea in the still air, before he broke the solitude with a bleak admission of regret.

“I wish I was able to assist you,” he’d said plainly, staring ahead at shifting trees and passing traffic, before his eyes shifted downward. His free hand fidgeted at the bag in his lap, stuffed full. 

You’re unsure if he’d referring to the battle, or the breakdown he knew you had after it, when you came back home and reality finally hit you like a freight train after holding it off for so long. When you realised that there won’t be a snowy, heavy head and a gangly body hanging off of your shoulder at every hour of the day, not until after some time (or ever, but you weren’t dwelling on that at the moment.)

19 days and you’d gotten used to waking up to a slowly fading scent on his pillow beside yours, making your tea and breakfast with a teaspoon less sugar, the ice cream catching a freezer burn in the refrigerator, the absence of migraine pill sleeves and empty saline tubes scattered around the bathroom sink, the half empty laundry hampers.

You got used to drowning yourself in the work that consumed your days and nights, to come back to your empty house with the still air and no warm arms to fall into, and the damn near constant wobbling of your lip as you try to sleep. 

You have to hold back a sharp flinch, something rising up your throat, when there’s a full trash can and rumpled sheets and a tug at your wrist 19 days later. 

You’d filled up that empty spot in your closet under Satoru’s nose with different trinkets you’d found on your never-ending missions, that reminded you of him. That kind of defeats the purpose of forgetting, now that you really think about it. 

So you sit and stare at the figure seated across from you on his side of the bed, trying not to choke at the something clawing at the flesh of your throat as he slides a white cat keychain across the sheets, that he very obviously drew black sunglasses onto with a sharpie, to you. 

“I got it for you on my way back home,” he says, with a small, obnoxious grin you no longer feel the urge to slap off his stupidly beautiful face. 

You stand wordlessly and walk to your closet, pulling out a paper bag from its place, its contents protesting against the flimsy material. Seating yourself in your previous spot again, you take a hold of the chain he offered and push the crumpled bag to him in return. 

Your eyes sting, as you blink and avoid his own, free from any covering, that seeks yours. You finally muster up and pluck out the strength to look up when there’s complete silence, and oh how you dread its horrible sound. When it’s free from excited shuffling through the bag, leaving only both your shallow breaths. 

The air tangles in the twist of your ribs when you catch sight of the glossy sheen in his stark, cerulean eyes and the rose hue on his puffy cheeks, staring up at you. You can’t tell if it's a smile or grimace that rests on his painfully gentle face, but if the adoring, starstruck look in his frozen eyes is anything to go by, it’s the former. 

“It’s just a few things I picked up,” you mumbled, looking away from his shackling gaze lest you short-circuit, feeling like you had the day you went on your first date with the man sitting in front of you, fervently and truly yours. You had mumbled, before being cut off by his sturdy arms circling your body, pushing you back slightly with the force of his comforting weight. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you bring up gentle fingers to card through his soft, cornsilk hair and inhale the oxygen you needed to survive. Him, him, him, is all you think as the scent you missed overwhelms your senses. 

I missed you, thank you, I love you.

You have your fair share of dumb gifts from Satoru - a kikufuku charm that came with the affirmation that you reminded him of his favourite sweet, more white cat + sharpie-vandalised paraphernalia, a mug with his face printed on it, and a picture frame with a shot of his eyes. The last one was your favourite.

Over the span of your years-long relationship, you’re sure you have plenty more, so you don’t understand why your fiancé is sniffling and swiping at his cheeks, thoroughly examining each and every charm and chain with a wide smile plastered to his face. 

You scoot closer to him, settling under his arm as your mind drifts to the reused medal case in your nightstand, housing all the stupid notes, sweet confessions and saccharine flirts that have been scrawled in his shitty handwriting into scraps of paper ever since you met. 

You’ve attached your own share of little scraps to each trinket in the bag in your no-better-than-his handwriting. You watch him attentively trace each word with the tip of his pale finger, reading them over and over before moving on to the next. (Much like you had, reading his notes whenever you could, leaving the lines well worn and near tearing). 

Giving gifts and peace offerings was Satoru’s best love language, whether the recipients accepted them or not. Silly gifts or not. It was his affection nonetheless. 

And it didn’t hurt to return the favour, not even a million times more, if it meant seeing his pretty features light up at you. Like you hung up his moon and his stars. Bad metaphor, you are his moon and stars. His arm tightens around you, head resting on yours at his shoulder, slender hand trailing down your figure to twist with yours. 

You can hear his heart, thudding violently against his chest, teetering at the edge of his vulnerable mortality. It feels like when he first saw you, eyes wide, mouth gawking in awe and a nudge to his ribs from Shoko. He’d sworn to her at the time, it was love at first sight, and Gojo Satoru was hardly ever wrong. Not ever when it comes to you. 

He knew that you would keep his stupid gifts (he didn’t, and shook like a baby deer on weak legs as he pressed a keychain of red and white carnations into your palm, his first gift, and smiled in pride when he saw it hanging from your wallet every day since then). 

He knew that you would keep his notes and love letters (he didn’t, and begrudgingly teared up against his own will when he saw your collection in your nightstand while looking for his saline eye-drops, nursing a headache. You’d come in, taking in the scene and sitting beside him, and when you pressed your lips to his temple and wiped his tears, Satoru swore his headache quelled).

He knew that you would love to meet his students and that they would love you (he knew this, but was still nervous, clutching your hand tightly in his. But when he saw you ruffle Yuuji’s hair and pull Nobara into your side, he could only smile to himself as his heart swelled. When you cupped Megumi’s reddened cheek, returning his whispered admission of missing you, he knew he would marry you one day).

He knew he was a good kisser (he wasn’t, but he learnt on the way, smoothly pressing you into the walls of your shared apartment you both called home, breathing in every pleased sound you made into his lungs, etching it into his heart. You’d say he was an expert by now, and Satoru would puff out his chest in pride).

He knew that he wasn’t that great at being vulnerable, or comforting others (he wasn’t, but it didn’t take long for you both to ease into each other's arms, to show him how to be raw, how to love). 

All these lessons paid off as you both fell into the soft mattress in each other’s arms, breathing in tandem and your own heart beating just as hard as his. 

I missed you, thank you, I love you.

You both can read minds now, you think, as you drift off into a long awaited slumber. 

At least, each other's minds. And you know that his presence will finally bring you the peace you waited for. 

[kingmintyreturns]

so i designated yesterday (january 12th, Joe Frazier's birthday) as Mr. Sandman’s birthday and i kind of went Ham.

the plate says "Darius" cause that's my headcanon first name for him! i drew the chibis too--I'm planning on having them made into a keychain!

decided to make a little Taste of Philly (or as much as a midwestern novice chef can manage lmao) with tomato pie and pretzels from scratch and philly cheesesteak pinwheels made with crescent rolls. with some lemon water ice and soda!

gay ramblings under the cut

i know this seems like a bit much for a fictional character's birthday, but Mr. Sandman is probably the most important comfort character I've ever had.

I've realized it's part of my neurodivergency to get attached to "one-note" characters. and that's okay.

i *cooked*! i *baked*! i make *art*! those are all good things regardless of the motivation behind them!

mr. sandman is much more than a one-dimensional boss character to me.

like. nobody gets him like i do /hj except for some of my friends who have rped as him when they know i needed comfort or encouragement. i have to thank them for that.

i know I'm taking the National Stereotypes Punching Game too seriously and I have since 2015.

i see people say "this is the scariest boss i have ever seen in a video game" and I'm like ??? No ??? he's just a great boxer??

and an Honest one in a loose cannon association filled with cheaters for the most part.

he's the most human in a cast of cartoon characters, tbh. i think someone with raw talent like that is more deserving than respect than fear.

it was just a gag, but the game grumps segment painting mr. sandman as a kind, charitable sort of guy who is gentle with children and animals is more accurate to my headcanon.

he wouldn't be very showy about it, since he really has no interest in impressing the public despite the fact that he's erroneously painted as a villain.

he reminds me a lot of the late Sonny Liston - a large man of few words, delivering deadpan responses to interviewers, disliked by the public at large and often dehumanized.

in private, though, he was an affectionate man, longing for love and acceptance.

although sonny was affected in a different way by the antiblack racism of the 60s, mr. sandman would definitely face prejudice of his own as a large, aloof, black man.

hell, even tv tropes categorizes him under the "Scary Black Man" trope. i can't speak authoritatively on the subject because I'm not black, I'm white, but you can't extricate race from this topic, especially not this game.

anyway, I've been typing this for far too long. i adore mr. sandman and i hold him and i kiss him on the lips. happy birthday.

[buglaur]

get to know me tag

useless info edition

thanks for tagging me @futurelabs!

1. what do you have under your bed?

a few cardboard boxes full of old school books and copies, some board games, a couple pairs of shoes, and a bunch of spider families probably

2. favourite sweet? (be specific if possible)

parma violets mmmmmm i could live off them. luckily i’m the only person i know that likes them, so whenever we open a box of sweets i always get all the packets. i would also kill for dipdabs. AND i adore drumstick squashies

3. describe your favourite t-shirt

a white t-shirt with the can’t stand the rezillos album cover on it. i got it this year from the rebellion punk festival in blackpool. i’ve had 4 occasions where people i’ve never met before approached me and told me they love the band!! so i love it for that lol

4. the last thing you drew/doodled?

i was doodling my goose keychain in class today. it’s this yellow flower one, my friend named him dain. he’s become sort of like our good luck charm 😫

5. are you completely sober right now?

i have had 2 energy drinks worth of caffeine today but that doesn’t count, so yeah. i’ve got three fatfrogs for friday night though, they’re like lemonade vodka drinks, because i’m gonna start watching a new tv series with my dad, which i’m looking forward to!

6. what's the one thing that annoys you more than anything?

i fucking hate umbrellas with a burning rage. every time i touch one they snap in half or turn inside out or rip and i think we should just get rid of them all. they’re the bane of my existence and i would rather walk through a hailstorm than use one.

another thing, and this actually bothers me so much i lost sleep for like 3 days the first time it happened. i like to have my laptop volume at 30. it’s been at 30 for 2 years. after one of the recent updates, it just will not stay at 30??? it always goes down to 29 or up to 31 and will not stay at 30 when i set it there. why can’t i have it at 30??? i just want it to be an even number pleaseee 😫

7. have you ever gotten your tongue stuck to a cold pole during winter?

no and i think if i did it would kill me. i have raynaud’s and just walking outside in the slightest cold breeze causes me to lose all feeling in my hands and feet lmao. hot water bottles are my best friend. if it snows i can barely leave the house for more than 10 minutes

8. if you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?

in my bed with my old 3ds and 10 weighted blankets piled on top of me please, or i’d love to take my dog up into the fields behind my house but it’s too wet and i don’t want him to catch a cold. he’s barely taller than the grass and he’s very high maintenance, he’d just demand to be carried. 

9. what was the single last word you spoke?

no idea but probably like “bye” or something, when i left my friend

i never know who to tag so i tag you reading this

[whiskerinthestars]

Chapter 6: Meeting the Unexpected

Urban Ascent

The midday sun was high, casting harsh shadows across the flea market. The gentle hum of people moving between stalls filled the air, though the heat made it hard to enjoy. October in the valley was supposed to be cooler, but record highs were still clinging to life, and I could already feel the sweat prickling beneath my shirt. It probably didn’t help that I’d been continuously activating that subtle charm throughout the day, pushing my mana outward, trying to sway the minds of anyone who passed by—it was getting exhausting.

I couldn’t help but want to sell that last picture frame before I left. I had already made $337 today, but call it a sense of completionism—like trying to find the last hidden trophy in a game so I could finally earn the platinum full-clear award. The handful of keychains I had left were another matter altogether. They were just bits of plastic I’d printed ages ago, but this tablet was my last “big-ticket item,” and I had subconsciously set selling them all today as my goal.

Suddenly, I noticed an old man walking toward my stall—a small figure, hunched slightly with age, wearing an unassuming beige shirt with khakis. It was the kind of outfit so plain that it actually drew your eye to it. I focused, gathering my energy, trying to charm him just as I had with all the others who passed by.

But he kept walking, seemingly unfazed by my efforts. Perhaps subconsciously, since my first customer was an older woman, I wanted to end the day by selling this last tablet to this old man. It resonated with me, falling in line with my ever-growing fixation on the cyclical nature of the world. Or maybe I was just hot, tired, and ready to get out of this heat since I hadn’t been smart enough to bring any kind of shade with me.

I furrowed my brow in concentration, pushing more mana into my aura. This time I imagined my charm settling over him like a gentle cloud, inviting and warm. The old man slowed as he neared my stall, but he didn’t glance at the keychains or the tablet—he stared straight into my eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, and then he smiled—a gentle, knowing smile.

“You’re about ten years too early to be trying that half-assed charm magic on me, kid,” he said, his voice soft but carrying a weight that echoed in the space between us.

I blinked, the shock evident on my face. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. How did he know? Is he also a…?

The old man chuckled, clearly enjoying my bewilderment. “You must be completely new to this, huh? A self-cultivator, if I had to guess,” he continued, his tone not mocking but almost... fatherly. “You didn’t think you were the only one out there, did you?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Of course, I wouldn’t be the only one out there—how could I have been so stupid? With as many stories as there are online, and even before that, all the ancient Chinese literature these stories were based on—of course someone else had tried this before me. If cultivation is real, people must have been doing this for hundreds of years now, maybe thousands. What’s that old saying again? There’s no smoke without fire. So, of course, if there are stories, there has to be at least a kernel of truth to them.

The old man stepped closer, taking a seat on the folding chair I had brought with me, as if he belonged there. He gestured to the assortment of items spread out on the table. “Not a bad way to practice, I suppose,” he mused, “but you’ve got a long way to go.”

His gaze shifted back to me, piercing but not unkind. “Let me guess—you somehow discovered the practice of cultivation, and even though you initially wrote it off, curiosity got the better of you. You actually sat down and tried to meditate, only to discover it was real. After some minor success in circulating this energy, you decided to see what you could do with it?” He didn’t wait for me to confirm. “Happens to all of us sooner or later, but don’t get too ahead of yourself. Charm magic—or any kind of external technique—requires a foundation. You’re leaking qi like a sieve. That’ll burn you out faster than you realize.”

I felt my mouth go dry. Burnout? I hadn’t even considered that. Sure, I’d felt tired after a long day of practice, but wasn’t that normal?

“You need control,” the old man continued, his voice patient but firm. He reached for one of the keychains on the table and began to stack them, one atop the other, slowly and carefully. “It’s like trying to write with a broken pen. You’ll never get clean lines that way. First, you need to strengthen your Sea of Qi and bring equilibrium to all your meridians.” Each movement was deliberate, his hands steady as the stack grew taller. “Without a strong base, everything you build is fragile,” he said, gesturing to the sturdy stack.

Then, with a sudden shift, he grabbed another handful of keychains and began haphazardly stacking them, quickly and without care. The pile teetered after a few layers, and with a soft clatter, it collapsed. He gave me a pointed look. “Rushing ahead without a proper base…” He let the broken stack speak for itself. “And you might find everything collapsing around you.”

"Who are you?" I finally asked, my voice hoarse with curiosity.

He still maintained that same smile, but this time, there was something deeper in his eyes—a hint of weariness, perhaps. “Someone who has been doing this for a long time. But that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is whether you're going to keep stumbling around in the dark, or if you're ready to learn.”

The proposition hung in the air between us. Was he offering to teach me? To guide me?

“But why would you—”

“Why help you?” he finished for me. “I suppose you remind me of someone I used to know.” A hint of sadness flitted across his eyes, but just as suddenly as it came, it was gone as if it was never there. “Someone who was stubborn and lost, but insisted on continuing down the path he set for himself, stumbling along in the dark, along a path he could barely even see.”

“I’m not sure just how stubborn you are yet, but I can tell that you're lost. And more importantly, just like him, you have a good heart. You might be a bit reckless, running before you even learned how to walk, but you're certainly not malicious. Even as you doubled your efforts on me after failing the first time with your charm, you never turned hostile. Instead, you redoubled your efforts, trying to become even more inviting and warm—not forceful or demanding. That’s why I stopped, actually. You can tell a lot about a person by how they act when under stress, and even when your charm wasn’t working, you maintained a clear heart. You tried to win me over with kindness, not sheer power and force.”

He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, if you keep going like this, you’re going to attract attention you’re not ready for. And trust me, kid, you don’t want that kind of trouble.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his words—trouble, huh. I should feel lucky that the first attention I attracted was from this old man—at least he doesn't seem to have any bad intentions. What if it had been someone else? Someone malicious? My mind flashed with thoughts of the world of cultivators described in those novels, of all the cruel and petty actions of those with great power.

Imagine if I had accidentally offended some cruel, powerful cultivator with my actions just then. Hell, I’m lucky that I didn't have any bad intentions toward this old man, or this could have gone a lot differently, and my journey would have been over before it even started.

I couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat at the realization of the danger I had inadvertently been putting myself in without thinking.

“So what do I do?” I asked probingly.

“First, go back and practice cultivating. Try to focus on removing those blockages throughout your body until you can circulate your Qi without any resistance,” he said as he began to stand up. “Then we’ll go from there.”

“But how do I contact you?” I called out to his slowly departing back.

“Where you found me the first time,” he said without turning around. “Come here again on the first Sunday of November, and I’ll see if you're worth teaching,” he replied, continuing to shuffle unhurriedly away.

“And don’t go drawing any attention to yourself before you’re ready to protect yourself,” he added. Even though he was already over ten feet away, his voice rang clearly in my ear as if he were right in front of me, but strangely, no one else around even gave him a glance. I don’t get it. If that wasn’t a shout, then what was it—some sort of technique?

“He didn’t even leave me his name,” I muttered to myself. But I guess that’s how all the wise old masters are in the books, aren't they? Mysteriousness seems to come part and parcel with this whole cultivation schtick.

Actually, now that I think about it, he called it my Sea of Qi, didn’t he? That sounds straight out of some fantasy novel. I guess maybe I’m the odd one for calling it a core, but honestly, it already feels fantastical enough without labeling it a Sea of Qi. Still, if that’s what he called it, maybe there’s more to this than I understand.

He’s right about one thing, though—I shouldn’t keep drawing attention to myself before I’m able to protect myself. He might seem like a kind old man, but who knows if he has some sort of ulterior motive. He’s still a stranger at the end of the day. I’d be stupid to put too much faith in him.

I should call it a day. I really did want to sell that last tablet, but I’ve already made plenty for today, and nothing good ever comes from being too greedy. I need to spend the rest of the day trying to break up those blockages throughout my body. Slowly but surely, like the old man said—I need to walk before I can run. I just need to take it one step at a time.

[pages-of-us]

A Happy Thanksgiving

The Zane family’s annual friends’ gathering was a tradition so beloved it could rival Christmas in their household. This year, the house was alive with the hum of preparations: Andrew was in the kitchen, roasting the centerpiece turkey and baking desserts; Ralph was rearranging chairs in the backyard for the barbecue; and the kids were arguing over the best way to greet their favorite uncles and aunt.

“Yaz, stop hogging the markers!” Ellias snapped as Yazmin drew yet another doodle on the giant “Welcome” sign the kids were making.

“I’m adding hearts! We want them to feel loved!” Yazmin retorted, sticking her tongue out.

Elliot, the ever-responsible eldest, stepped between them. “Just let her finish. We’re already running late.”

“Not my fault you’re so slow,” Yazmin quipped, making Elliot roll his eyes.

“Kids, keep it down!” Ralph called from the living room. “Uncle Hansel is bringing you something cool from his convention, but only if you behave!”

That silenced the bickering immediately, and Yazmin dropped her marker with exaggerated calm. “Fine. But the hearts are staying.”

**********************************************************************

The first to arrive were Uncle Dimitri and his wife, Kathrine, a couple so impeccably dressed they looked like they’d walked out of a magazine. Dimitri balanced a tray of baklava while Kathrine held a gift bag and waved cheerfully.

“Uncle Dimitri! Aunt Kathrine!” Yazmin squealed, racing to the door.

“You’re growing up so fast, Yaz,” Kathrine said, leaning down to hug her. “You’re almost as tall as me!”

“I’ll be taller than Dadda soon,” Yazmin declared proudly, making Andrew laugh as he appeared behind her to greet their guests.

“Thanks for coming,” Andrew said warmly. “And for the baklava. You know it’s Ralph’s favorite.”

“And mine,” Dimitri replied with a wink. “Where’s the man of the hour?”

“Out back, probably overthinking the chair arrangement,” Andrew said with a grin.

Before Dimitri could head outside, another car pulled up, and Uncle Hansel and Uncle Hart emerged. Hart carried a bag of juggling props, while Hansel toted a box overflowing with plushies, posters, and figurines from the latest anime convention.

“Hart! Hansel!” Ralph called from the backyard, coming inside to greet them. “What’d you bring this time?”

“For the kids or for you?” Hansel teased, handing Ralph a Spider-Man figurine from his box.

“Both,” Ralph admitted, grinning sheepishly.

The kids swarmed Hansel immediately, excitedly pawing through the goodies.

“Is this from Demon Slayer?!” Ellias exclaimed, holding up a tiny Nezuko keychain.

“Sure is,” Hansel said, tousling his hair. “And there’s more where that came from, but only if you share.”

“Uncle Hansel, you’re the best!” Yazmin declared, throwing her arms around him.

“Hey! I thought that title belonged to me!” Hart protested.

“Not this year!” Elliot chimed in with a good-natured chuckle.

**********************************************************************

While the kids ogled their gifts, Andrew and Kathrine finished plating the appetizers.

“You know,” Kathrine said, setting down a platter of deviled eggs, “Dimitri’s been talking all week about how much he’s looking forward to this. He’s so impressed with how you and Ralph balance everything.”

Andrew smiled, a little embarrassed. “It’s not as effortless as it looks. Especially today—I think I’ve burned the potatoes twice.”

“Well, you make it look easy,” Kathrine said sincerely. “This home, this tradition—it’s beautiful. Dimitri and I talk about it all the time.”

Meanwhile, Ralph was catching up with Hansel and Hart in the backyard.

“So, still single, huh?” Ralph teased, flipping a burger on the grill.

“By choice,” Hart quipped, leaning back in his chair. “Why tie myself down when I’ve got this yearly chaos to look forward to?”

Hansel smirked. “Says the guy who’s been talking about adopting another cat for months.”

“It’s not the same thing!” Hart protested, making Ralph laugh.

**********************************************************************

After dinner, the kids convinced their uncles to play a game of charades. Hansel, ever the performer, went first, acting out an over-the-top interpretation of a ninja.

“Naruto!” Ellias guessed immediately, jumping up in triumph.

“Not bad, kid,” Hansel said, giving him a high five.

Hart was next, juggling three oranges while pretending to be a clown, which made Yazmin laugh so hard she fell off the couch.

“Uncle Hart, you’re terrible at this,” Yazmin teased between giggles.

“That’s rich coming from you, Miss Knocked Over the Domino Tower,” Hart shot back, earning a chorus of “Thanks, Yaz!” from her siblings.

Dimitri and Kathrine, meanwhile, cheered from the sidelines, Dimitri sneaking coins behind the kids’ ears whenever they guessed correctly.

“Do it again!” Yazmin begged, clutching the shiny quarter he’d just handed her.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Dimitri said with a grin.

**********************************************************************

As the night wound down, Hart, Hansel, Dimitri, and Kathrine lingered in the kitchen with Ralph and Andrew, sipping coffee and reminiscing.

“You know,” Hansel said, leaning against the counter, “you two have really built something special here. These kids, this tradition—it’s amazing.”

“Agreed,” Kathrine added. “You should see the way they talk about you when you’re not around. They’re so proud of their parents.”

Andrew glanced at Ralph, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “We’re just doing our best.”

“Well, your best is pretty damn impressive,” Hart said. “Even if your kids are miniature chaos machines.”

Ralph laughed. “They get that from Andrew.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Yazmin’s dramatic streak has your name written all over it.”

“Touché,” Ralph admitted, grinning.

As the guests finally said their goodbyes and the house quieted down, Ralph and Andrew stood in the doorway, watching their friends drive away.

“Another successful gathering,” Andrew said, leaning against Ralph’s shoulder.

Ralph kissed the top of his head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”