#EVERY TIME I SEE PURPLE AND ORANGE COLORS TOGETHER MY MIND JUST-

[spase2axolotl]

DJ AND ALAN!!!!!

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Chan🖤

Pairing: Chan x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 978

Summary: Your anniversary with your beloved boys makes you think of how to show them how much you love them best. Soon, you settle on sending them a message and picture in relation to one of your favorite days spent with them - starting with a sunset beach walk with Channie.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, poly!skz

A/N: Happy one year, guys🤭🥳🖤🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

You sit comfortably on the oversized sofa in the living room, your legs tucked beneath you as a soft throw blanket drapes over your shoulders. The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the evening outside. The warm, ambient light from a lamp nearby casts a golden glow on your laptop screen as you scroll through your photo library, smiling at the memories that flash before your eyes.

The idea had come to you a few days ago, sparked by a simple desire to celebrate the bond you share with each of the boys. With your anniversary around the corner, you wanted to do something meaningful—not grand or flashy, but something that speaks to the heart of what they all mean to you. So, you decided to put together a collection of messages, each paired with a favorite photo of yours. One for each of them.

It’s not just about celebrating the years spent together, but a way to show them how much every single moment counts—how deeply woven into your life they’ve become. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of life, schedules, and everything in between, but when you sit down and look back at these snapshots, the memories are filled with so much warmth that it almost makes you tear up.

Each picture carries its own story, a unique reminder of shared smiles, whispered conversations, and unexpected adventures. It feels like the perfect way to say, “I remember. I see you. And I treasure these moments more than words can say.”

Choosing where to start wasn’t easy, but in the end, you settled on Chan. Leader. Rock. One of your favorite people. The one who somehow always knows exactly how to make you feel heard and seen. Your eyes linger on one particular image that makes your heart flutter—a photograph of a breathtaking sunset on a secluded beach.

The sky is painted with vivid hues of orange, pink, and deep purple, casting a magical light across the gentle waves lapping at the shore. In the foreground, Chan is beside you, his broad smile lighting up the scene as much as the setting sun. He’s looking at the camera, but his body is slightly angled toward you, as if caught in a moment of joy, mid-laughter. His tousled hair frames his face, the salty breeze lifting it slightly, and his eyes crinkle warmly, filled with a playful energy and contentment. The two of you are barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere in the sand, and you’re holding hands, your arm swinging lightly as if you’d just been spinning around together, giddy from the beauty of the evening and each other's presence.

You can almost hear the sound of his voice from that day—the way he kept pointing out how the colors of the sky matched your favorite shade of coral or how he’d sneakily race you to the water’s edge just to let the waves catch you by surprise. It was one of those spontaneous days, a perfect pocket of time when everything aligned, and all that mattered was the way the world seemed to slow down around the two of you.

The day had started unassumingly, with a casual suggestion from Chan to go for a drive after a long day of work. There had been no real destination in mind until you noticed the telltale sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the distant waves. Without a second thought, he turned the car toward the coast. When you arrived, the beach was nearly empty—just you, him, and the endless expanse of sand and sea. As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with the most brilliant shades, you both kicked off your shoes and wandered along the shoreline. You talked about everything and nothing—dreams, music, life, and silly inside jokes that had the two of you bursting into laughter.

As the colors deepened and the first stars peeked through, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just you, him, and the rhythm of the waves. It was then that he set up the camera timer, capturing that perfect image, your smiles forever frozen against the backdrop of the sun-kissed sky.

The smile on your lips softens as you relive the memory, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You take a deep breath and begin to type out a message for Chan, the words flowing easily from your heart. He’s someone who would understand the significance of this little project of yours—your way of saying, “I’m grateful. For you, for us, for all the tiny pieces that have come together to build this beautiful mosaic of memories.”

Message to Channie Baby🖤:

Hey Channie,

I came across this picture today, and it made me think of one of my favorite memories with you. Remember that sunset beach stroll? The way you just decided to take us there on a whim? I think that’s one of the things I love most about you—the way you turn ordinary moments into something unforgettable.

That evening, I remember feeling like everything was just… right. The world seemed quieter, softer, and it was like we had all the time in the world just to be ourselves. I know we’ve had so many amazing experiences together, but something about that day stands out to me. Maybe it’s because it felt so simple, just us, the ocean, and the sky. But it’s one of those moments that I’ll always cherish.

Thank you for always making life brighter, for your laughter and for the way you see beauty in everything. I’m so grateful to have you by my side—not just during sunsets, but every single day.

Happy anniversary, Channie. Here’s to many more sunsets together.

Love you, always.

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @theo4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9 @minh0scat @jinnie-ret @5starluvr @slutforchanlix

[onlinesuzie]

can u write something about you and hamzah being apart and missing each other?? 😮‍💨😮‍💨🫶

♡ hamzah misses you ♡

words: 1.6k

genre: FLUFF!!

summary: Hamzah misses you a lot.

notes: guys i literally just needed an excuse to make hamzah the most cringe rom com man in the world.

☆

Hamzah couldn’t stop thinking about you. All day, thoughts of you filled his mind, he missed every part of you. It had only been a few days since you last saw each other, but to him, it felt like it was far too long. The warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way you always seemed to know how to make him laugh—he missed it all.

Hamzah was used to being busy. His days were often filled with filming and editing for slushy noobz. But today, even the excitement of a new video idea couldn’t distract him from how much he missed you. Sitting in his apartment, surrounded by cameras and editing equipment, he found it impossible to focus on anything else. Every glance at his phone, every moment of silence, brought him back to the same thought: I miss her.

Finally, as the afternoon sun began to go down, Hamzah made a decision. He closed his laptop, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment early. His audience would understand if the next video came out a little later than usual. Right now, there was something more important—someone more important—that he needed to see.

As he walked through the door, the rich scent of fresh flowers enveloped him. He scanned the colorful array, his eyes finally settling on a bouquet of your favorite flowers—soft pink roses mixed with delicate white lilies. He smiled to himself, knowing how much you would love them.

With the flowers in hand, Hamzah made his way to your favorite restaurant. The familiar smells of spices and freshly cooked dishes greeted him as he entered. He ordered a selection of your favorite meals, making sure to get everything just right. Once the food was packed up, he hurried to his car, excitement bubbling up inside him. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you opened the door.

By the time he reached your house, the sky was painted with shades of orange and purple. His heart raced as he walked up to your front door, balancing the bouquet and the bags of food. He took a deep breath, hoping you’d be as happy to see him as he was to see you. Then, with a slight shake in his hand, he knocked.

You opened the door, and the moment your eyes met his, his nerves melted away. A smile spread across your face, lighting up the dimming evening. "Hamzah!" you exclaimed, surprised but clearly delighted. He handed you the flowers with a shy grin.

"I missed you so much," he said simply, his voice filled with genuine kindness. "And I thought maybe we could spend some time together?"

Your eyes softened as you took the flowers, their sweet fragrance filling the space between you. "You didn’t have to, Hamzah but I’m so happy I could cry," you replied, stepping aside to let him in. "These are so so so beautiful. Thank you so much."

Before Hamzah could respond, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I’ve missed you too, but don’t tell anyone" you whispered, your lips grazing his skin.

Hamzah’s smile grew, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I, um, also brought you something else, to you know.. eat!" he added, holding up the bags. "I wasn’t sure what you’d like today, so I got a little bit of everything."

"You are so cringe sometimes Hamzah," you laughed, leading him into the living room. "Well come on my loser! Let’s set up in here and eat ‘cause I am actually starving."

Inside, you both moved to the living room, where Hamzah set the food on the coffee table. You brought out a couple of blankets, draping them over the couch as he unpacked the containers. The room quickly filled with the savory scents of the meal. You laughed softly as you saw he’d ordered all your favorites, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at how happy this boy makes you.

"How was editing today, my love?" you asked as you both sat down, plates in hand.

"It was okay, there was a lot we had to cut today though because Martin kept doing weird dances and for his ego i just could not release that," Hamzah replied, giving you a warm look. "I couldn’t stop thinking about you thought, so I decided to come see you. I hope you don’t mind."

"Of course, I don’t mind," you said, touched by his honesty. "I’ve missed you too. It’s been such a long week, and being with you is exactly what I needed."

As you ate, you couldn’t stop sharing glances at each other. It was as if no time had passed at all since you last saw each other. You told him stories from your insane week, laughed at jokes from the past, and fell into comfortable silence between bites, simply enjoying the company.

"Remember that time we got lost trying to find that restaurant?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Hamzah smiled. "How could I forget? We wandered around for an entire hour before you realized we were on the wrong street the whole time.

"At least we eventually found it," you teased. "And the food was so worth it."

"Well.. I wouldn’t say it was truly worth it," he agreed. "But either way I think tonight’s food might be even better. But maybe and just maybe, it’s just the company."

"See, you are so cringe you idiot," you said, playfully nudging his shoulder. "But I guess you’re right, if i had to confess."

Hamzah laughed softly, and as you both finished your meal, he leaned in closer, his eyes locking with yours. "Oh! You’ve got something," he said surprised, his voice teasing as he pointed to your lips.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? What?" You began wiping at your face.

"Stop, let me get it for you," he said, his tone playful. Before you could respond, Hamzah leaned in and kissed you, his lips brushing over yours in a tender moment. You felt your face glow red, warmth spreading through you as you kissed him back.

When he pulled away, his smile was soft, and his eyes were full of affection. "There," he whispered, "I think it’s all gone now."

You laughed, pushing him away from you. "You’re way too much, you know that?"

"Only for you," he replied, pretending to be hurt.

After dinner, Hamzah suggested watching a movie. You agreed, scrolling through the options until you found something you both liked. The lights were dim, and the only glow in the room came from the TV as the film began. You curled up next to him on the couch, wrapping the blanket around you both. Hamzah draped his muscular arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your head made you feel safe and so happy.

As the movie played, you found yourself more focused on the way Hamzah’s fingers gently traced patterns on your arm than on the plot. You turned your head slightly to look up at him, catching the soft smile on his lips as he watched the screen. His happiness was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile, too.

"You know," you whispered during a quiet moment in the movie, "I’m really glad you came over tonight. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, even if that means I have the most embarrassing boyfriend in the world."

Hamzah looked down at you, his expression tender. "Me too. I was worried you might be busy, but I just couldn’t stay away."

"You’re always welcome here, Hamzah," you replied, resting your head back on his shoulder. "Anytime."

Hamzah leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with comfort. "That means a lot to me."

The movie eventually ended, but neither of you moved. You were too comfortable, too content to let the moment slip away. It was only when you glanced at the clock that you realized how late it had gotten. Hamzah noticed, too, and for a moment, there was a pause—neither of you wanting the night to end.

"Stay," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to go."

Hamzah didn’t hesitate. "I’d love to," he replied, his smile widening. "I didn’t really want to leave anyway."

"Good," you said, standing up and offering your hand to him. "Come on, let’s get ready for bed."

"Sounds perfect," Hamzah agreed, taking your hand and following you. "This has been the best night I’ve had in a long time."

As you led him to your bedroom, Hamzah gently pulled you to a stop, turning you to face him. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. "I’m really glad I came over," he said, his voice low and full of emotion.

Before you could respond, Hamzah leaned in, capturing your lips in a heartfelt kiss. It was soft and unhurried, full of the emotions he couldn’t quite put into words. You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, enjoying the moment.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but your smiles were wide.

"Me too," you whispered, your forehead resting against his.

You both got ready for bed, the routine now familiar and comforting. When you finally lay down, Hamzah pulled you close, his arm wrapped protectively around you. You nestled into his embrace, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

"Goodnight," he whispered into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Goodnight, Hamzah," you murmured back, your voice filled with contentment. Before you drifted off to sleep, you turned in his arms to face him, giving him one last sweet kiss on the lips.

[bananababblegigglemuffin]

Night Time

Note: fluffy smut not really smut. bTW LOGANS PERSPECTIVE

The room was hushed, save for the faint whispers of the television playing Moulin Rouge. It was three in the morning, yet here we were, wide awake. I could feel the warmth of your body against mine, each breath bringing me closer to peace — or as close as I’d ever get. Insomnia was second nature to us both, though for different reasons. My mind often drifted to battles and old memories, while you, love, seemed to be up for an entirely different reason. A reason that, right now, was wrapped around my waist.

"So, sweetheart, what’s got you so giddy tonight?" I teased, nudging you slightly, hoping for one of those infectious smiles that lit up even my darkest hours.

“Well, Lo,” you began, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I went shopping today with Jean and Storm. You should’ve seen the dress I found. It’s this amazing burnt orange tulle dress — the perfect shade for fall! But I don't have anywhere to wear it…”

Ah, your voice had that lilting disappointment, the kind that made me want to punch a hole through anything keeping you from your happiness. But this was a problem I could fix. “Well, Bub, how about I take you out this Saturday?” I offered, hoping to see that look of surprise in your eyes.

“THIS SATURDAY? YES PLEASE!” you almost squealed, practically bouncing in place. It reminded me of a kid in a candy store, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. Watching you light up like that was damn near one of my favorite sights.

“God, that means I've got two days!” you gasped, pulling yourself off my chest, looking as though you were about to pull off some high-stakes operation. I propped myself up, watching you dart across the room with all the energy of a firecracker. You opened the closet and then cast a glance back at me, that sly little smirk of yours.

“I know that look, babe,” I chuckled. “Of course I want a show! I’d be a real hoser to decline, sweet cheeks.”

You slipped on the dress and twirled around to show it off. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The dress was perfect — understated up top with full sleeves, its burnt orange color dotted with delicate purple flowers that practically screamed autumn. But it was the bottom that took my breath away. You looked like some kind of goddess, moving like a whisper across the room.

“Give me a 360, babe,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. You turned, and that’s when I saw it — the low, daring U-cut in the back, held together by barely-there crisscross laces. My breath hitched. You were a vision, and the cool room air only enhanced the way your skin glowed.

“Oh, goddess, you've got me weak in the knees here," I murmured, my voice a little rougher. "Come back here. I need to worship you.”

You giggled but obliged, slipping out of the dress and crawling back into bed, pressing yourself into the white comforter like an angel. My hands found your bare back, fingers trailing patterns along your skin. I was lost, drawn to your scent, breathing it in as I nestled into the curve of your neck. I brushed over you, feeling every little reaction beneath my fingertips. “Lo, you’re so nice,” you murmured, and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“I’m nice to you, love,” I whispered, more truth than any promise I’d ever made.

"Okay, enough of that. Let me help you this time," you said, pulling yourself up and straddling my back before I could argue. You settled yourself just right, leaning down and pressing your hands against my shoulders, kneading with a surprising strength. I could feel every curve of you, and it was enough to make me bite back a groan.

“Turn over, wolfie,” you giggled, a sparkle in your eye as you leaned in. I gave a little grumble. "Baby, you don't have to do this," I insisted, knowing full well how stubborn you could be. But you'd made up your mind, and I knew resistance was futile.

I turned, letting you position yourself above me, and couldn’t help but feel the warmth of you as you applied lotion, massaging my shoulders, working your way down to my chest. Your touch was slow, deliberate, and I was practically melting into the bed beneath you. I could feel every bit of you pressing against me, warming me, leaving me in a state I could barely describe.

You moved slowly, massaging my biceps, and even my hands, taking your time as you knew well how to do. My hands slid up to your waist, resting there, simply feeling the rhythm of your movements. The closeness, the heat, it was everything I’d ever wanted and never thought I’d deserve.

Then, just when I thought I’d have a moment to breathe, you shifted, sliding down a bit lower, your hands exploring down my abs. “Sweetheart, this is supposed to help me sleep,” I muttered, feeling the low rumble of laughter in my chest. But you just smiled that mischievous smile, your fingers never slowing as they traced the lines of my chest, inch by inch.

Your fingers teased at my skin, each stroke soft but intentional, a reminder that you knew exactly how to drive me wild. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, something I could feel down to my core. And when you met my eyes with that sly grin, that sparkle of confidence, it nearly undid me.

My breath hitched as you leaned forward, lips grazing my neck, barely a whisper against my skin. The world outside was silent, but inside this room, it felt like we were galaxies away, locked in some kind of cosmic, timeless dance. I wrapped my arms around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling every part of you pressed against me.

“You’re really trying to get me into trouble, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I muttered, grinning as I tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You just giggled, your cheeks flushed with that look of mischief that was so perfectly you. “You’re the trouble, Logan,” you whispered back, running your fingers over the scar on my shoulder, tracing its path, knowing it like a map you’d memorized.

There was something about these late hours, these shared, stolen moments. The way you looked at me, the way you didn’t shy away from any part of me—the rough edges, the scars, the parts of me that even I couldn’t stand. With you, it all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a warmth that ran deeper than anything I’d ever known. I tilted your chin up, meeting your gaze, and in that instant, I felt completely bare—no defenses, no walls. Just us.

“Do you even know how dangerous you are, darlin’?” I asked, running my thumb across your cheek, brushing against that soft, flawless skin. “You’ve got me wrapped around that little finger of yours, and you don’t even know it.”

You just smiled, your hands slipping into mine, fingers intertwining. “You’re my dangerous one,” you whispered back. And then, in that calm, quiet moment, you leaned down, pressing your lips to mine. The kiss was soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that felt like it could last forever. I could feel every ounce of your love, your care, in that single touch.

Our breaths mingled as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading even further. I ran my fingers along your back, trailing down your spine, feeling every shiver, every response. The connection between us was undeniable, electric, like a fire that refused to be put out.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, voice rough with emotion. “You’ve got no idea what you mean to me, do you?”

You pulled back slightly, eyes meeting mine with that gentle, unwavering look that somehow held the entire universe. “I think I do,” you replied softly, your voice a gentle hum against my skin. “I know, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

We lay there, entwined in each other, wrapped up in the warmth of our shared space, of the peace that somehow seemed to exist only in these quiet, stolen moments. You tucked your head beneath my chin, your arms draped around me, and I held you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against mine.

Eventually, I felt your breathing slow, your eyelids fluttering closed as sleep finally began to take hold. And for once, the nightmares seemed far away, held at bay by the warmth and comfort of having you by my side. I let myself drift off, holding you close, knowing that whatever battles lay ahead, I’d face them with you.

As sleep took its sweet time arriving, I held you close, feeling your breathing slow against me. The quiet warmth of the night wrapped around us, and I ran my hand along your back, tracing gentle patterns like I was memorizing every detail. You looked up at me, a sleepy smile dancing on your lips, and it was like seeing sunlight after a long winter.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you murmured, eyes half-closed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Darlin’,” I replied softly, brushing a kiss against your forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.” The way you nestled into me, resting your head in the crook of my neck, made me wish I could somehow hold on to this moment, freeze it in time. The world felt perfectly right with you beside me, like every broken part in my past had finally found its place.

You were playing with the edge of my shirt, a small, absentminded gesture that felt so intimate. “I think you’re my safe place, Lo,” you said softly, your fingers tracing small circles on my chest. “No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

It was a confession that hit deeper than anything, a truth spoken in the small hours of the morning. I didn’t have the words to answer, so I wrapped my arms around you a little tighter, letting the silence fill with everything I couldn’t say. With you, it was more than love; it was peace, something I hadn’t thought I’d ever have.

We lay there together, breathing in sync, the stillness of the room pressing in like a comforting blanket. The flicker of the television cast a soft glow over you, and I reached over to brush a strand of hair from your face, just so I could see you more clearly. The gentle light played on your features, illuminating that spark in your eyes, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

I brought your hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips, feeling the soft warmth of your skin. You let out a small laugh, that soft, delicate laugh that had the power to make the hardest parts of my heart melt. "Logan," you whispered, voice light and full of affection, "what did I do to deserve you?"

It was a question that I often felt myself asking. "Sweetheart, I think I’m the one who's undeserving here," I replied, pulling you even closer, savoring the feeling of you against me. "Every time I look at you, I know I’m the luckiest damn man alive."

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting mine with a look so full of love it almost hurt. Slowly, you brought a hand up to my face, your thumb brushing over the rough line of my jaw. There was something in your gaze, something that made me feel like you saw right through me — the scars, the history, the hard edges — and somehow still loved every part of it.

We stayed like that, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other. And even as the hours stretched on, I didn’t feel tired. I could’ve held you there forever, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing, the gentle beat of your heart.

After a while, I leaned down and kissed the top of your head, breathing you in like you were the last bit of oxygen I needed. “You know,” I murmured, resting my cheek against your hair, “I used to think I’d be alone forever. But you—well, you changed that.”

You looked up at me, eyes bright despite the soft haze of sleep. “Logan,” you said, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “you and me, we’re not alone anymore. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, darlin’,” I replied, feeling something warm and steady settle deep within me. “We’re a team.”

And in that small, quiet moment, with the early morning light just beginning to creep in, I knew that whatever the future held, as long as I had you by my side, I could face it. This was what I’d been searching for all along — not just love, but a home. A place to rest, to finally be at peace.

Holding you close, I let myself drift, your warmth anchoring me to something real, something good. This, right here, was everything I ever wanted, wrapped up in the arms of the only person I’d ever let myself truly love.

end.

author: i hope some of you liked reading it! please do comment and reblog, it means the world to me

[scarasun]

O-Oh my... 😳 May I request head canons of Arlecchino and Scaramouche/Wanderer (separate) being soft with their S/O? 👀🤭

my hubris ;;

pairing : arlecchino, scaramouche x gn!reader

cw : 3.3 archon quest spoilers if you squint a little (scaramouche's part)

a/n : thank you for sending in your requests yall 😭 when i saw them i knew i had to get started right away (i hope you don't mind that i sort of roped in two requests at a time...). anyways, i had so many ideas for this, but this is what i eventually settled on! let me know if you enjoyed it!

- Arlecchino is very familiar with the art of donning different masks to adapt to certain situations. Sometimes she’s a graceful gentlelady, the perfect picture of poise; other times, she’s an enemy’s worst nightmare. With you, however, she’s learnt to strip away all that makes her a formidable Fatui Harbinger.

- Before she had met you, she had only known to speak coarse words that cut her tongue, sharp and biting like salt on a wound. But in your presence, those words simply dissolve. She wants nothing more in the world than to let you know how much she finds you endearing – simply put, she’s a master at the use of pet names.

- “Dearest, can you come here for a minute?” “It’s good to see you again, my love.” “You look amazing, darling.” – The both of you have been together for a long time, and yet her terms of endearment never fail to make you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time once again.

- Arlecchino doesn’t consider herself to be a lazy person, but you come before all, including her work. Canceled missions become more frequent – she just can’t seem to get enough of your company. Conversely, when she’s at work, the only thing at the back of her mind is getting home at the end of the day to see your smile again.

It’s the end of a brutally long day, and the sky is painted in the scenic reds and oranges of the sunset. The sky looks beautiful, Arlecchino thinks to herself, but it’s nothing compared to you. She blushes at the cheesy thought, and she feels like she could almost hear your bouts of laughter if she were to accidentally speak the sentiment out loud. 

Arlecchino opens the front door to your shared home and puts her shoes to the side, surveying the house. She spies your figure sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, and her pace picks up slightly, a small smile growing on her face. Your focus is angled downwards, and she could see a book resting in your lap.

Wordlessly, she climbs into the couch beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist tightly and burying her face into your neck. 

“Good afternoon, Arle,” you say, reaching up to tangle your fingers in her snow-white hair. The only acknowledgement you receive for your greeting was her arms tightening around you.

It felt good to be home.

- After his fall from the ranks of the Fatui, the puppet who now calls himself a Wanderer has nothing much to do except…wander. And that’s exactly what he does – except when you’re always at the back of his mind, he finds himself partaking in some strange behaviors.

- You’re his rose-colored lens; he sees the world in relation to you. Anything he sees during his travels that remotely reminds him of you is coming back to your shared home with him. Most times, when you come back home from work, he’ll wordlessly hand you his trinket for the day and then scurry away – but not too fast to the point where you miss the blush rising on his cheeks.

Today he hands you a flower. It dangles between his fingers, its purple petals illuminated by the yellow light of the lamp. Just like every day before this one, he’s found something to give to you. 

Unlike every day before this one, he meets your eyes, and speaks. 

“Well? Are you going to take it or not?” The former Fatui Harbinger’s words don’t come out nearly as brazen as he would have liked, but you’ve come to realize that his usually harsh tone has mellowed out over the past few months. Must be Nahida’s doing.

You take the rose from his hands and smile gently at him, your heart warming at the cute gesture. “It’s very beautiful, thank you.”

He grunts in response, but his facial expression softens in the lamp light, and you know he’s glad to see you accept his gift.

- He isn’t very good with words, and although he tries to be, it just never works in his favor. His main way of showing affection is physical touch, which comes easier to him than terms of endearment. Something in particular that you both seem to enjoy (especially him) is when he carries you in his arms bridal style.

- If he could carry you in his arms forever, he would. If it’s raining and the path that you both are walking along is filled with puddles, expect him to carry you above it. Similarly, he might scold you for falling asleep on the couch, but he secretly enjoys picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

- However, if you ask him about his affinity for holding you, he’ll simply ignore your questions.

[x-bee-x]

Remember when Tina said "it's gonna break you, angel"? That was very good. I wrote that prompt/quote before, so let's do it again, but how about demon Bagi instead this time?

Thank you @zenscrypt for letting me bounce off ideas a bit, and all my other friends on Discord for the support and praise. Thank you @mcyt-halloween for putting this together, this was really fun to make. Thank you @lil-lost-mind for being my giftee, I hope this is a good surprise, and that you like this!

Sweet Tooth

There's some angst, some self deprecation type stuff that Bagi has, but they're also cute and sweet

1,715 words

The evening on the island was pleasant, a bit cool in temperature due to the time of year and the time of day, but nice, as much of the days on the place they somewhat begrudgingly called home were.

A thin blanket of red and orange and green and yellow and brown covering the autumn earth beneath and crunched as members walked along it and to their destination as a group.

Each of them wearing a costume, some more thought out and almost extravagant than others.

Among them were Cellbit and Roier and Pac, all three were dressed as vampires, but Pac's costume seemed separate from the couple; Quackity, who was Hatsune Miku, his outfit a few shades of blue and he had an aqua colored wig that reached his waist; Pol, who was an avocado; Etoiles, who continued to dawn his signature mask and wore a black outfit to match, to show he was a ninja; Mouse, who's costume was not really a costume, but as she would be perceived as ruler of her place in Hell, her horns that were always on display but seemed more prominent and appropriate today and her dress hues of purple and pink; Foolish, who as to show his loyalty and reign, wore a costume resembling a capybara; Badboyhalo, who wore the outfit and tried to mimic the personality of someone only a handful of the group gathered this evening knew personally, but if the way Bad had talked about them in legend and almost fearful form meant anything, it was perfect, as he was dressed as someone called Dan TDM; Phil, who also wore a costume that was not really a costume, but more in the sense of laziness rather than something like homesickness, he had on the shirt and shorts and belt of a piglin brute; Pierre, who's costume matched the overseer of the island where they lived, but was also wearing a cheerleading outfit on top of; Charlie, who took form for this night once again only of the one who had seemingly died during the presidential elections, Gegg; and Charlie's daughter, or the something like an imposter of her, Juanaflippa, who's matching thick framed glasses you could see the outline of underneath her costume of a ghost, which was just a sheet with eye holes, and flecks of green and black glitched along parts of the costume.

Bagi herself was dressed as Rapunzel, she wore a long sleeved dress that was pink from where the fabric started, minus the white of its shoulders, until it reached her waist, then purple from there to just above her feet, she had purple shoes to match, her so blonde it was practically white hair with a chestnut section was pulled to one side and in a braid and her brown hat sat on top, it didn't go perfectly well with the rest of her ensemble, but it was always more for comfort than the sake of matching our accessorizing.

And then there was Tina, the most beautiful and perfect girl in the whole wide world, even when they were stuck on this island and it always felt like when one thing wasn't going on there was another and stayed by her side or in the vicinity of or took over her practically every thought no matter what.

She was dressed as Alice from Wonderland, wearing a short sleeved baby blue dress with white on the front that reached just above her knees, a pair of white tights underneath, and black shoes.

Her cocoa colored hair in two pigtails on either side of her head, the faux cat ears she always wore peeking and on the top front of her head, a black headband sitting slightly behind them and keeping any stray hairs in place.

"Bagi! Hi!"

She greeted her the same way as always, slightly higher pitched and almost out of breath, like she was so excited and used all her energy simply at the sight of the other.

"Hi Tina!"

She greeted her the same way as always, the "t" at the start of her name accented with more of a "ch" sound, and likely the same amount of energy as the girl across from her exuded.

"I'm really glad you came, I think it's gonna be fun tonight, I like your outfit!"

Tina twirled once and the edges at the bottom of her dress raised with the motion.

"Oh, thank you, I like yours too, you look really pretty!"

Bagi was pretty sure her cheekbones were a shade akin to the top half of her dress.

Everyone else had wandered elsewhere, further into the area where the group was gathered for the evening events, talking amongst themselves and laughing and showing off their costumes to one another, leaving Bagi and Tina separate from the rest to continue any conversation for their ears only.

Bagi pulled her attention away from the American girl and looked in the direction of Mouse, conversations and compliments between her and other island members just barely audible, but audible all the same, smiles between both the recipient and the ones saying them evident.

She seemed so happy, so proud, and she was allowed to be.

Her bubblegum pink hair in two ponytails hanging and reaching her biceps like curled streamer decorations, two white horns sprouting from the top of her head in a similar shape, she wore a dark purple bodysuit with magenta flairs at the ends of the legs and her sleeves and around her collar, the shoulders were cutout as well as a section on her sternum, her purple eyes gleamed in a mix of happiness and possible mischief.

Bagi's eyes followed a path to Badboyhalo who was doing the same, conversing with other island members, them making comments on his outfit and both Bad and the ones asking laughing about it.

He was also happy, also proud, also allowed.

He was still wearing his cloak and hood, but it was pulled open a bit for once so you could see the outfit underneath, which consisted of a pair of blue Jeans with a belt and gold buckle around each leg and his waist, a navy blue shirt, and a pair of goggles that sat on top of his hood, the lack of shape and shadow indicating there was a face under his cloak remained and the the fangs of his smile and his eyes beneath it were both white and they slightly gleamed.

They were both allowed.

To seem so outwardly happy, comfortable in their skins, proud even.

And Bagi wasn't, of course, why would she be?

By this, she meant be able to openly and confidently present that they weren't human.

Which, granted, a lot of residents on the island weren't, but Bad and Mouse and Bagi were demons.

And demons weren't good, they were powerful and meant to be feared and not exactly lovable, which of course in turn meant that Bagi herself fit in all of those categories.

Bagi filed down the already all but non existent stubs of her horns to places that just felt like her skull was maybe a bit thicker if you happened to touch them, which you wouldn't because no one would even dare think about touching her hair or head, and she always wore her hat anyway.

There was also her tail, pointed like an arrow at the end, curled like a snake and taped to itself onto her tailbone under her pants everyday, regardless of how much it hurt to keep still and how raw she found it made her skin every night.

And there was the whole occasional patches of fire popping up randomly like they were threatening her thing, tempting her even maybe, them being anything more than something she only saw aside.

"Um Bagi."

"Oh, sorry. Yes? Hi!"

"Hi! Um, are you, do you want to stay? I mean, you just looked a little kind of maybe sad or something?"

Tina was looking at her while she was lost in her thoughts?

She noticed her expression was apparently different?

She kind of sounded like she might've cared?

"Oh, yes. I am okay. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's okay if you're not okay you know, we don't have to go."

We?

"We?"

"Oh, I mean, um. If you didn't wanna, then I wouldn't like I wouldn't mind not going either, make sure you're not alone I guess. If that's okay of course."

Bagi thought maybe her face was a similar shade to the upper half of her dress again.

"Oh. That um, yeah, that's okay. But yeah I'm, I do want to go, I was just kind of nervous for a second."

"Oh, that's okay. That happens to us all sometimes. Are you okay?"

"I am okay."

"Hey Bagi?"

Tina took a couple steps forward, the American girl already kind of close, but she was now standing so the two of them could touch each others outfits if they wanted.

She was at least a head shorter than Bagi, maybe more, enough of a difference to where she had to kind of stand on her tip toes and balance on the ends her black shoes, taking one hand to wipe some stray hairs not in her braid and peeking from under her hat and sticking to her forehead, and the other to lift her hat slightly and tuck them back beneath, her hand resting against the spot one of the horns she didn't want to think about existing was.

"It's gonna be okay, angel."

And that.

Kind of made Bagi's breath catch and it kind of made her stomach flutter.

But.

Not in an entirely negative way, and she wasn't really sure why.

Angel, huh, what a funny word.

She wasn't that, she was pretty much the exact opposite actually.

She wasn't as good, or as kind, or even as lovely as them.

At least not spiritually or whatever.

Tina though.

She was one in every sense of the word.

And yet.

So Bagi just nodded, released the breath she forgot she was holding, and let Tina take away her hand, and they walked along the kaleidoscope that crunched to meet with the rest of the island members together.

Both of their cheekbones were matching hues.

[cosmignon]

A girl was feeling really nostalgic abt the fact The Stardust Scouts (my magic girl ocs) are nearing 10 years old at this point… so I felt like drawing their oldest designs faithfully + then drawing their current ones beside them :)

I little bit more about each of them in order:

Savannah started off as much shorter, she was the shortest of the group iirc. I decided to make her the tallest one instead after thinking abt how i wanted her to not only be fat but take up a lot of space. She’s the “main” protagonist of the story (in my mind at least, as it stands SDS is more of an ensemble cast) so I wanted to challenge conventions by making my smart leader you root for fat and completely ok with that. Savannah doesn’t have time for fatphobia she has 3 college essays to write before an alien attacks the city

I am really glad I changed Penny’s color scheme over the years, I don’t like how the red hair and purple sweater look together at all. Their style had also grown a lot more brash and eclectic. I think he started as a shy type? You can definitely see it in the original drawings body language. Unbelievable, she is a Mabel Pines crafter extraordinaire at heart and that’s final

Tabitha “congrats on the transition” Brooks has just been slowly shifting further and further toward his current butch look for forever and it rocks. I distinctly remember making SDS originally with the intent of “only having girls so no one tried to ship them with a boy” and I was a little stubborn on that point for a while… but Tabitha said nuts to that and decided otherwise. I honestly think of her original design as being what she looked like as a teen these days, before cutting off all that hair and running off to he/her lesbian all over the place.

Wendy’s always been an interesting struggle, because while she and Savannah have both been a learning exercise in getting black & textured hair right, Wendy specifically loves fashion and styling her hair in different ways every other time I draw her. Her current braided hair is what I default to but I’ve also wrapped it up in buns and given her bantu knots too. Also made it more obvious she dyes her hair, glad I moved away from cheese yellow blonde lol

Olivia! Olivia Olivia Olivia…. Ze has definitely won the award for most dramatic change between the old design & now. I make it no secret ze used to be a Tak from invader zim expy, and I still carry those roots with me as I refine zer look. The blonde hair and the orange signature color are both very recent developments, I used to be so attached to Olivia staying purple that I was detrimentally keeping 2 characters purple instead of letting Olivia have a unique place among the group. Now the only thing that’ll make it obvious ze was ever Tak adjacent is the mole under zer eye & a lot of the backstory I have cooking

Ty for listening to me ramble, pls check out my oc tag Sara ocs or the stardust scouts tag for more abt my precious babies 🥹

[lees-chaotic-brain]

1 Year Anniversary Soulmate Color Event! (Closed)

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Let me know if you want to get added to the event taglist!

It was recently my one year anniversary on tumblr, so I decided to do my first ask event! (I'm also rewarding myself because I caught up on my schoolwork)

The tag for this event is lee's 1 year anniversary event so filter it out if you don't want to see the fics from it.

Below are the rules and guide.

Here is the format:

Number (prompt) Shade (theme) Color (character)

Example:

Megumi angst with the "mark from last time your soulmate ever touches you" prompt

Would be:

#8 Jade Green

Step 1: Pick a Character (Color)

My Hero Academia:

Todoroki Shoto: Red

Bakugou Katsuki: Orange

Kaminari Denki: Yellow

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Fushiguro Megumi: Green

Gojo Satoru: Blue

Inumaki Toge: Purple

Yuji Itadori: Pink

Step Two: Pick a Theme (Shade)

Angst: blood, rust, ochre, jade, navy, eggplant, amaranth

Angst to Fluff: crimson, tangerine, pale, pine, ocean, lilac, rose

Hurt/Comfort: vermillion, dark, golden, forest, sky, plum, blush

Fluff: maroon, pumpkin, lemon, olive, baby, lavender, bubblegum

Crack: fire engine, safety cone, neon, lime, electric, violet, hot

Step Three: Pick an Prompt

#1. The closer you are to your soulmate, the warmer you feel, the further you are the colder. Basically finding your soulmate is one big game of hot and cold.

#2. You and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread tied on you ankles/wrists/whatever.

#3. Every night your dreams are actually your soulmate's memories.

#4. Once you reach a certain age you begin to feel a pull towards your soulmate, just like magnets. (someone please request a crack version of this)

#5. The name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you.

#6. If your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom out of the same spot on your own body.

#7. The first time your soulmate touches you it will leave a mark in the shape of their touch on your body.

#8. The last time your soulmate touches you it will leave a mark in the shape of their touch on your body.

#9. You and your soulmate both glow if you're in a room together for the first time. (This can get confusing if more than 1 set of soulmates are in the room)

*note: I found these prompts on Pinterest. they do not belong to me.*

At the moment, I am not comfortable writing nsfw, so please don't request it

I don't write poly relationships. It's not that I have anything against it, I just don't feel comfortable

Please be polite! I'm happy to write your requests, but please be mindful of the fact that I am also a human being with a life

Feel free to send in as many as you want, I'll try to get to all of them

The event will close on Oct. 31, meaning I will stop taking requests for it, but will continue to write and post any requests I received up until then

[average-drawer]

for @averagedialtowner and @vincentbeloved1217

they cried from a weak ass story it's my turn 😈 hehehehehehhehehehhehehehehehehehehhejehehehhehehe also I have never written before so um uh um yeah um I umujmhmy hmm ymumumumumumuhhmhmhymmmummmmuhhhh also ong bro jfk commits kay why ess!!1!11! T/Cw!!1!11!1

Jack Kennedy laid there, staring at the ceiling. He was tired. So very tired. Maybe it was the pills. Maybe it was his lack of sleep. Maybe it was the fact that he was laying in bed. He didn't know. All he knew was that his decision had been made and he couldnt change it now. Not unless he wants to spend 10,000 dollars at the hospital, and Dave wouldn't be happy with that.

Jack was so, so very tired. He sighed and got off his bed, going over to take paper from the stack of paper that used to be neat, until Dave screwed it up on accident.

Jack was so, so, so very tired. But he still wrote. (with his Jack Kennedy branded pencil (double parentheses time demonic laughter I colored a pencil orange, gave it a purple top, and need a white paint pen to give it Jack's eyes. Then my Jack Kennedy pencil will be complete.))

AN: I have no fucking idea how to write this

Jack was so, so, so, so very tired. He got up and went back to his bed. He knew he wouldn't wake up. He knew Dave would be heartbroken. But he was too tired and numb to care.

It was 4 in the morning. Dave grinned as he climbed through the window, happy to see his Old Sport. Oh, the poor aubergine.

He looked through the house yet again. Not much changed. The stove was still untouched, yet slightly burnt. The microwave was still gone from the mac and cheese incident. The couch was still messy. The sex couch was still the only not messy couch there. (I HAD TO INCLUDE THE SEX COUCH) The floors still had scrapes from the different things they've done. Dave's mind wandered briefly as he thought about tomorrow, and yesterday, and Vegas, and all the different thing they've done together. Then, he snapped back to reality. He was actually kind of tired. Maybe Jack would let him sleep with him? (Sexually and not sexually) He climbed up the stairs dog style like the rabid animal he is, checked the other rooms, and stepped into Jack's room.

Jack wasn't snoring. There was a note on his bed. There were empty medication bottles on the floor. Dave being Dave, he got a bit worried, but then again, this was normal Jack stuff. Sometimes he doesn't snore, sometimes he leaves notes for Dave, and sometimes (all the time) he does drugs. That's normal. Combined, it made Dave a little scared. But he just shrugged it off. He sat down next to Jack on his bed, smiling. He picked up the note, reading it. With every word his face sank more and more.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

FUCK!

FUCK!

FU-

Although Dave had killed, helped kill, and handled bodies, this body was too much for him.

Jfk commits kay why ess and Date molar cry

I wrote this in 40 minutes what can you do in 40 minutes VINCENT?!?!?! I NEED FOOD!

[scribblyspaceskeleton]

Hey, do you mind if I ask about your synesthesia? I'd love to hear more about your particular perception of the world

Of course!

I hope you don't mind the absolute wall of text you've just unleashed from this very hyperlexic individual.

I've got quite a few types of synesthesia, just about all of them are color related. All of these things are perceived as color:

-Sound (pitch, timbre, key signature, they *all* play into this)

By far my absolute favorite form of synesthesia that I have, period. Pitch, key signature, timbre, the raw sound itself vs what it would look like if I were to play it myself-- all of these things interplay together in a complicated mess that's impossible to replicate perfectly.

I can see even really small differences in pitch, and they do matter- if someone does something like fuck with me and change the base tuning of my keyboard from 440 to 420, I am immediately going to notice.

Taking a G-sharp note from standard tuning and bumping it up just a few hz produces the same difference as that between Prussian Blue and Cobalt. It is that noticeable and drastic.

I also can see each individual harmonic in any given note or sound- they are all automatically separated by my brain like a prism breaks apart light into different frequencies. I've been annoyed in the past when the harmonics from the bass in a song clash with the melody. It's just as plainly obvious as if someone put neon green and magenta together.

As an aside, conflicting songs playing at the same time tastes like if you left water sitting on the nightstand for too long and now it's acidic and gross. Yuck.

This could be sensory heaven or sensory hell based on context. It's so easy for me to get overstimulated by sound, but music is my favorite thing in the world and I will seek it out whenever I can.

-Graphemes (numbers, letters, etc)

My alphabet is a rainbow. Every single letter has its own unique color, and it's projected into 3d space onto the actual letters, numbers, and other symbols I know of themselves.

For example, A is red, and whenever I see the letter A on my screen, it looks tinted ever so slightly red. It's so slight as to be barely perceptible, but it's there in my mind's eye and I can see it.

-Morphemes (whole words in my case)

Not only do individual letters have colors, but a whole word might have its own color that overwhelms all of the others. The word orangutan starts with O, which makes it off-white, even though it contains a bunch of browns, reds, purples, and oranges in the rest of the letters, the word itself is white.

-Languages

Languages are color-coded, too. Spanish is mostly green with red and purple mixed in, Dutch is cyan and silver, French is golden yellow-orange, English is the most boring dull off-white you can imagine.

-Touch

Pretty self-explanatory, I see physical sensations as color. The ache of my shoulders and my arms in this uncomfortable position I'm currently refusing to move out of is... Red, deep muddy blue, gray, silver, orange etc on a black background

Goosebumps are like silvery white static that spreads throughout my body.

-Temperature

Pretty simple. Colder temperatures are lighter gray, warmer temperatures are darker gray, until it starts getting painfully hot and red and yellow and silver get added to the mix.

I love hot showers, they're perfectly dark and comfortable.

-Smell

I see smell as color. Those cinnamon scented pinecones that people bring out every November look like crinkled metallic violet.

-Taste

Most tastes are some kind of gray or neutral colors, but strong fruity tastes like lemons or strawberries are some shade of electric blue. Cinnamon is fuchsia, vanilla is pale cyan, and chocolate is a beautiful assortment of shades of purple.

-People's personalities (people are each assigned a unique color set that's a mix of their personality and the colors from their name)

-Emotions, both my own and other people's

This one is also overwhelming. Just because I can see/perceive an emotion, doesn't mean I know it's coming from me or another person, or what it means, or what to do about it. I think it's linked to mirror-touch synesthesia, which I do also have (and it's why I can't watch gory horror films!).

-Different states of the US

For these, I feel like I'm physically *inside* the color and it's surrounding me everywhere I go within the state in question.

California is a strong yellow color, New Jersey is olive green, Ohio is white, Pennsylvania is very bright and silver, Washington State is a deep veridian, New York is burgundy.

-The different months of the year

January is black and white, February is gray-purple, March is greenish gray, April is fuchsia, May is blue, June is orangey, July is brown, August is a strange shade of gray, September is golden, October is black and white and a bit of red, November is gray and dark, December is also black and white but in a different way.

Aside- I see time on a physical diagonal line of spaces inside my head- the future extends up and away to the right, the past extends down and back and to the left. The past from before I was born is really dark and murky and hard to make out, my lifetime is a brighter mix of silver and white, the future cuts off at a certain point and there's no way to look beyond that, which I think is how I think about my own mortality.

-My fingers

Starting at thumb: Gray-red-blue-pinkish-orange. I don't like nail polish for long because the colors are Wrong. I'm considering getting them done in my own palette and seeing how that works.

-Silverware, of all things

Spoons are yellow, forks are either green or pinkish based on how many tines they have, knives are gray.

---

That's the majority of what's happening in my head, 85% of it links back to color in some way.

Other, non-color-related types:

-Hearing movement

-Sound-movement (this is an odd one to try to explain, it's like I hear a sound and I just feel like I just should move a certain way. It's not like dancing or anything voluntary, it's like a specific sound makes me widen my eyes etc)

-Sound-touch (I feel music on my face, inside my mouth, on my eyelids, and the BEST songs are the ones I can feel (and SEE) in my chest. I don't mean like turning up the volume on a big speaker and feeling the vibrations in the air, I can feel this while wearing headphones.)

-Smelling/tasting some music (HOME Resonance smells like artificial cherry flavor)

-Hearing colors and shapes

-Numbers don't have personalities, but they each have a vibe to them. 5 is optimal and calm. 3 is warm and positive.

-Hearing the texture of different people's art styles (Vincent van Gogh had this one! I feel lucky I have this in common with him)

-Hearing my own thoughts as abstract sound

-Glitchy, misspelled ticker tape in my mind's eye (spelling "babe" as "baab" for instance)

-Lots of random stuff like how looking at a car's wheels makes me feel like there's something in my mouth and I need to bite down

----

This is a pretty exhaustive list, I might come back to it and add more as I think of them.

[tristansarchive]

NSFW-ISH FLASHFIC! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Summary: Jeremiah's a workaholic and it doesn't get any better when it comes to a life of crime. His twin's always coming up with new ways to handle it — some got better results than others.

❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖❖|❖

Taking a slow, deep breath in order to calm himself for what felt like the fifth time that very same day, Jeremiah found himself itching to massage his temples but stubbornly refrained from it — wouldn't do to show how utterly done he was. - "Recapitulating, as you've seemed to pay little attention."

He meets the eye of every one of the idiots his twin swears by to be the most reliable of his cult, ones that showed the least problems following orders; they evaluate his figure with thinly veiled distrust — can't quite trust him farther than they can throw him but it's not as if he really cares, couldn't ever feel threatened by the same people that polished Jerome's white leather boots with their tongues. Ecco's just a few steps behind him too, playing with one of the throwing knives he had given her — a birthday gift, she had requested new weapons after all — while resting against one of the walls, stepping over the ancient, crumbling wallpaper. 

Not able to resist it, he tilts his head and throws the most condescending grin he can muster at them, a test to his usual passive-aggressiveness but they were not helping their cases by keeping him in this place for longer. 

In front of him, the map of the city stays spread and stuck to the wooden table by rainbow-colored pins he had organized across the districts, threads of orange and purple linking each. He points at the one currently stabbing the smiley face drawn by the docks, visualizing the warehouse he had in mind. - "Keeping a low profile is of utmost importance for the time being, and so I've arranged routes for two separate groups to leave as soon as Jerome—"

A cell phone goes off right then, interrupting him, and he's just about this close to reaching for his holstered pistol and shooting whoever had the audacity, when he recognizes the familiar, awful tune — with which he was tortured often — that had been programmed into his own device for one very specific menace in his life. Talking about the devil.

I save dick by giving it CPR

I save dick by giving it CPR

Put my mouth on it like CPR

Let's make porn and watch it on VCR 🎶

Shamelessly, he raises a finger at the dead-silent crowd and feels for the pocket in his striped coat's lining, wrapping his fingers around the ringing phone and pulling it out and open to his face, unlocking the screen with a quick press of the password — only to shake his head in exasperation at the contact name that had also been changed. 

He debates whether he should or not answer the call, knowing how long they could end up taking by experience — a bafflingly cliché trait of theirs, that equally inconvenienced and soothed — but as much as he wouldn't particularly mind hearing Jerome's latest opinion on whatever cartoon he was watching that morning, he still had much to do; it wouldn't take long for the GCPD, even as half witted as they were, to figure why their followers had stopped acting like headless chickens and if there's something Jeremiah refused to let happen, was to be predicted. 

So he presses mouth thin in slight discontentment and sets the notifications to vibrate, aware of the consequences of this action. There was no reasoning with his twin, he knew very well, but it was for the benefit of them both — perhaps Jerome wouldn't see it that way, but that was just fine by him; some bridges he'll have to cross instead of bombing, he supposes. 

Clapping his gloved hands together loudly enough to bring his nosy guests — none of them doing a good job of appearing uninterested — back to their current predicament, he stifled a smirk at the yelp coming from behind him. Such a gossiper, that woman. - "As I was saying, the signal agreed upon at the last meeting will serve as the cue to each group retrieving the..."

❖|❖

You have 10 unread messages on voicemail.

Jeremiah could only stare in disbelief, not having been quite prepared for what he was seeing. 

Of course, he wasn't new to Jerome's incessant complaining and naive he was not — a few strong worded messages were fully expected from his twin, specially since he found catharsis on poking at Jeremiah's guilt over their years apart. But he had fed the belief that even the ginger's predisposition to ranting had its limits, those which he had clearly underestimated.

It makes his grip on the device a little tighter, fills him with a sort of anticipation. In a way, it's a treat — he had left their bed while Gotham's sky had still been a dark indigo, no stars to be seen; dropping extra ammunition in the current hideouts and installing a couple fail-safes were precautions that they had discussed during dinner and he wouldn't have felt secure in their progress otherwise, not when he remembered about his twin's last failure and where it lead them. Which had the unfortunate effect of rendering him sleepless — and then unable to wait for a 'good morning' kiss, a look at Jerome's endearingly drooly face had been all he got. 

It's embarrassing, that he can almost hear Jerome's irritated comment on his disappearance act just by looking at the number but still miss his voice, all of the baggage that came with the hoarse quality to it — but he had learned to enjoy what it did to him. 

Seated in one of the chairs Ecco had promptly fetched for him, he takes off his hat with a sigh and holds it to his lap as he presses the device against his ear, glancing at the cultists still assessing the map alongside his proxy — not quite comfortable enough to put his twin's probable tantrums on speakers. Those were for his ears only(specially if it's targeted at him).

The first of them goes just as he imagined.

"Miah, ya fuckin' asshole... couldn'tcha wait 'til I was done with ya? Leaving at who the fuck knows when in the night- I'm tackling yer ass when ya show up, smartypants."

It takes a surprising amount of restraint to not snort loudly at him because he had clearly just woken up when it was sent and if possible, his speech poured thicker than usual; he hums in what he figures is the agreement he would've replied with to appease him and lets his eyes fall shut, savoring the background noise of the TV and something being cooked while his twin cusses him away. 

He realizes, midst the transition from the first to the next message, that he hadn't eaten anything since waking up. Aside from coffee, of course.

"Ya should know my helpful followers always tell me when yer calling up for meetings. I could go in there~"

Hmmm, in hindsight he genuinely wishes his twin had. Truth be told, Jeremiah couldn't have explained in simpler terms what the escaping-abducting cycle route implied for the upcoming scheme and yet, still at the very ending, he received the odd blank stare here and there. With Jerome, he was sure they would've wrecked their minds to try and understand whatever their messiah threw at them instead of expecting him to do all of their jobs for them — but he digresses. 

The third message, though. Took him a minute.

"Been watching one of those old movies with the rich fellas dressed all snobby, reminded me of ya." - there's a clacking sound that becomes clearer when he pauses, then comes a dramatic sigh. - "Yer so annoying about this kinda stuff but I'm not gonna lie- it's got charm. It's like some vintage clown chiq with all the over the top suits in crazy colors and makeup, I wanna see ya on a stage."

It brings Jeremiah back to a conversation they had, back in the Wilde State — and right after he had told his twin of what he had planned for Gotham. He remembers the words he had used in that recording he had left for detective Gordon: "Jerome's dead. Long live me." 

He had recited it — like a chant, a reminder — and it had been bitter, angry, liberating, wonderful. He wanted to have as much power as Jerome achieved, be the star of a show that had relegated him to the bleachers but it also hurt something awful that he'd to do it alone. 

But as things turned out to be, every now and then it clicks in his overworking mind that after so long — he'll be two again, have Jerome with him and when the curtains fall at the climax of their spectacle to reveal who's been behind the newest surge of vindicating chaos, the smoking gun will be on his hand, his dear twin right by his side; laughing at a terrified audience, observing with curious eyes as he does it all in his name. And if this city survives them, they'll exchange roles, repeat their steps for as long as they fancy— again and so forth. 

It's enough to have him feeling like there's no space within his ribcage for the expanding of his lungs, his heart taking over every inch. Love for him had always been like this — and not so coincidentally, towards the same person — but while he recognized the aching and overwhelming euphoria, he never quite got used to it for better or worse. It took over his senses every time, turned him into an entire new creature or maybe unlocked another side of him.

Shaken, he decided he needed to listen more and Jerome didn't disappoint in the next.

"Aren't ya getting bored? I mean nothing against my own people but... none of them like ya. But I do, Miah~" 

His lips twitched, a smile taking over without his permission as he rolled his eyes. He had a point, after all.

"Well, I'm! so! bored! I'll forgive ya for leaving me if ya show up right now and kiss me. It's my favorite pastime, ya know? Smooching yer sugar plum lips." 

Jeremiah doesn't make it a habit of physically showing his true feelings. Ask Ecco, and she'll tell that in all of the years they've known each other — an impressive amount, by the way — he very rarely expressed too strong of an emotion in front of her, going so far as to project a lack thereof and ever since he went through his... change, he had been able to perfect it into an art and signature of sorts. He's not the emotional type, so to say. 

"Ah, I bet these aren't helping ya concentrate... Oops! My bad, dolly." 

But whenever Jerome brings out that cheeky, flirtatious attitude accompanied by his endless repertoire of sappy and quite insulting petnames — Jeremiah can sense his face getting warmer and he fights the indignity of averting his eyes to the ground, refusing to be bashful of all things. He knows exactly what his twin's doing, what this is meant to evoke and what's worse: he can't shut him up.

"But ya know me, I just can't resist ya. That's why I came back for ya, ain't that right? 'Cause I love yer kisses so bad, Miah."

Whispering lovingly to him through the phone, he sounds needy, tempting. It's unfair, that a few words from him can make his mind spin, blurry by the edges. 'Love' sounds so right in Jerome's tongue, as if he owns it by the very letters — he could never get tired of hearing him say it. 

He loves him. It's intoxicating and biological. Every cell in his body does so, intrinsically. Sometimes it feels like it could consume him. If it hasn't already.

"Are ya blushing? I'd love to see it. Yer such a cutie, only sometimes though. When yer not a fucking pain in my ass." - Jeremiah can almost pinpoint the second the implications register before his twin gasps in delight at the opportunity to mortify him. - "Not that I mind, can make my ass sore all ya want, baby broski. And when yer trying so hard to not blurt out some creepy, loving shit while at it? I wanna squeeze ya by the prick, so damn adorable-" 

"Boss?" 

The higher pitched voice's close enough to gain his attention, causing him to almost jump in his seat and reflexively try to muffle the maniacal giggling coming out of his phone, firmly pressed to his chest while staring wide-eyed at who had called him— oh, Ecco. 

Exhaling in relief, he allows his posture to relax and shoulders to fall minutely before immediately narrowing his eyes at her, irritation clear in every line etched to his frowning brow. - "Can't you see I'm busy?" - he tried to go for an unamused tone but it sounded a lot more murderous than he wished for. 

If he focused on the noises coming from the device in his hand, he could almost hear the recurring whining resembling the various terms Jerome called him by. Ecco's gaze momentarily fell to his chest and he knew it wasn't just him. 

Ecco giggles nervously. - "We're all finished, bossie! Tough nutjobs to crack, those! But you can always count on my skills, got'em on the palm of this hand!" - she swishes her right hand, wiggling her fingers with an excited smile. Jeremiah huffs, looking around and noticing that she had indeed done an impressive job of finishing their little rendezvous — there wasn't a single slacker in sight, presumably because they were already taking care of relaying instructions to the rest of their members. 

Pleased, he nods in approval and rewards her the smallest of grins. She practically beams. - "Then I came to tell that we could get goin' and you were redder than my daddy when we told him we were outta beer— and squirming too! You getting sick? Got your pills in the car, if you need them!"

To his utter horror, he found himself unable to recompose from such a violent attack to his ego fast enough to reply with anything better than a rushed 'Thank you.' while standing up straight from his rickety chair and marching out the small apartment's door, (elegantly)making a run for the decaying bulding's ornamented elevator and taking its cabin for himself before Ecco could join him.

Had any of those imbeciles witnessed it as well, by chance? It's not for the matters of caring about their opinions, pfff— as Jerome had said, they reported everything to him, annoyingly so. And that would definitely set a precedent for many more voicemails to come, at the most inopportune times. 

He turns at the flash of green and white he captures in his peripheral vision and finds a dirty, rusting mirror on the wall; even ruined as it currently is, the picture being painted is unmistakable. He can't unsee how the pale — porcelain-esque, Jerome had teased — skin gives away to a faint red, it clashes with the aubergine over the lips and bright blue of his eyes, though it does match his scarlet tie. It's just when he brings his hands closer — NOT to hide his complexion in them — that he's reminded of what he's holding in both of them: his white fedora and phone. The very source of his troubles, still playing his messages.

Hesitantly, he presses it against his ear once more.

"—gotcha all syrupy sweet on me, sunshine this and dearest that! And all I could think about was 'if I had known sucking yer cock in the morning like my life depended on it made ya less bitchy all those years ago I would've been saving a ton in mints'. But, Miah, waking ya up stealing yer breath's... fuck, it's delicious— I love to feel ya struggling against me~"

Jeremiah leaves the inconspicuous place, fashionable hat covering his ardent cheeks and coat luckily hiding any other… issues, he might be suffering from on his way to the goddamn car, fully intending to break a few traffic laws.

Beginning with texting while driving. 

'Coming.'  

A reply comes seconds later.

'Oh, you will be.'

[miutonium]

I saw your recent watercolor art and scrolled through your watercolor tag and lemme tell you I adore it so much! You're so good at it! 💖 Do you have any tips for watercolor and is there any brand you recommend for me since my watercolor paint never look as bright as yours! 💖💖💖

Thank you! I actually wrote my painting process here but here's some watercolor tips that I wish someone told me when I started painting like uhhhh 1725192719 years ago:

1. You will need to learn/do a recap on color wheel. Basically, we learned that there's 3 primary colors which is red, blue and yellow and basically mixing those two will create a secondary color (green, purple, orange) and mixing both secondary and primary will create tertiary colors (look it up theres like a few tons of colors hhhh) but shhh listen, Primary Colors also have Warm and Cool tones.

I grabbed this pic from Google since im on my phone rn but anyway, notice that even blue has a warm red undertone. Ever wonder why whenever you mix red and blue watercolor it never creates the perfect purple in your mind but a muddy red-brown shade? That is because you mix both warm red and blue instead of cool red and blue and purple is a cool tone.

This picture i grabbed from watercolor affairs demonstrates how secondary color looks like when you mix warm and cool blue red together.

Not my picture again but anywayyy I really recommend you try to make a color chart of mixing each primary colors with warm and cool undertones because it really helps me figuring out which color should i mix to create a specific color. The watercolor chart you see people do all the time may look intimidating but trust me it's actually easy when you understand what each rows meant.

2. Have scrap watercolor paper ready whenever you paint! Sometimes you need to do a quick swatch of the paint you mixed so you don't accidentally paint the wrong color.

3. DITCH THOSE WATER BRUSH!! I'm talking about the Pentel Aquash Waterbrush. If you are just starting on watercolor I am sooo serious, ditch those brush, don't even LOOK at it. Do not pass, do not collect $200, just GO. Keep it away from your hands until you can control your water on the brush. Unless you're Huta Chan, LOOK AWAY!!!

4. Get a good watercolor paper. You can cheap on watercolor tubes and cheap on brush but dont be stingy when it comes to watercolor papers! A good watercolor paper determines if your painting will be good or shit, not the paint itself. If you can't afford a block of good watercolor paper like me, buy a single big sheet (A1/A0) of a good paper and cut it up into smaller A4/A5 pieces (I do this all the time with my Saunders Waterford's paper)

If you still can't afford those paper, consider buying papers from known brands (and I am so serious about this because when I started painting I bought a cheap semco watercolor paper and I thought I was really awful at painting until I decided to buy a better paper and turns out the paper I bought was shit so I really mean it when I say buy from reputable art brands). The affordable brands that I'm using is Arto 300gsm Hot Pressed 100% Cotton.

5. PURE WHITE= BLANK SPACE. The white paint in your watercolor set means NOTHING. It only serves as a purpose to make a specific color opaque but it will never work as a way to paint white. If you want white, leave that part empty and unpainted. Your paper will serve as the white part instead.

7.As for paint recommendation, I actually use a mix of paint brands with varying grades so like I really don't have a single fav brand that I am devoted to. But if you want good artist grade paints at affordable price, Holbein paints costs half than other western brand watercolors and very high quality. I personally think their Opera Pink is the most brilliant paint out of every Opera color i used in other brands and I think I purchased it like 4 times already (although currently I am using Mijello's Opera Rose since I bought a set of paints months ago)

This is personally my opinion but you don't really need to buy every colors sold in tubes since some shades can be easily mix with the readily available 12 tubes paint that you have you have but these are the few colors that I think people should add and keep to have a diverse palette: Opera (Rose/Pink), Cobalt Teal/Turquoise Blue, Leaf Green and Neutral Tint.

ALSO this totally depends on each country but you can try look for watercolor trial kits on etsy (west) or shopee/taobao (asia) if you want to try various watercolors. Some people actually sell trial kits of other watercolor brands (and some even offer customization) online cheaper than buying the whole 12/24 tubes so keep a lookout on it!

2 years ago I actually bought a 0.5 ml mijello trial kit just to try out and I still haven't finish the colors in here completely (although I do use this as a complimentary palette and not a main one so it can be the reason why)

Very important part of painting: Painting is all about trusting the process. If it looks ugly, keep painting until it looks just the way you wanted. If it still looks bad and you don't have the energy to continue it, just let it sit and continue when you feel ready. I have countless of watercolor wips and some painting that I completed months or years later because I finally feel good enough to continue. If you're like me and likes to keep wips, keep the papers in a cool dry place or you wont be able to continue painting since the paper changed sizing.

I hope what I wrote here makes sense! These are a few things that I think are important enough to keep in mind! 💕💕💕

TL;DR: 1. Relearn Color Wheel 2. Keep scrap paper 3. Pentel Aquash is a lie 4. Buy good watercolor paper 5. Pure White=Blank Space 6.Holbein paint good 7. Trust the Process

[promiseiwillwrite]

Going Nowhere

The lock clicked after Ray knocked and the landlord poked his head out. He had on a multicolored sweatband that made his shock of strawberry blond hair stick up funny, and a mustache that didn't hide his grin.

"Well Hello new tenant, what's on your mind?"

He gestured for Ray to come in, and when he did, he found himself a bit overwhelmed. The entire back wall of the apartment was a monument to VHS. The shelves covered every square inch, floor to ceiling, even where the windows should be. And the rest of the place was a maximalist cacophony of retro oranges and greens, bric-a-brac, and colored glass. An Elegant Tiffany lamp with a shade made to look like a sleeping peacock sat on a marble topped end table by the orange Naugahyde couch, nestled on the purple, deep pile shag carpet.

It took Ray a moment to register that he was being regarded with some sincerity by the landlord's other two guests.

The first was a tall, striking Egyptian man in flipflops and dangerously short shorts, stabbing vengefully at Freddy Mercury's ambience with his own mustache.

The other a blond man with curls perfectly framing his stately features. They all held pickleball rackets.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd interrupted!" Ray started to back out the door immediately, continuing, "I'll come back by another time!"

"Oh, don't be silly, You should meet everyone." His landlord closed long fingers over one shoulder, and stopped his retreat. "This is Ray, he just moved into 5A, and he's good with plants. You should see the lovely little guys he put on that windowsill upstairs."

"How sweet." said the blond, reaching out a hand. "Call me Luke." Ray Nodded shyly, blushing a little in spite of himself, and shook the man's hand. He didn't understand why he felt so nervous all of a sudden.

"And I'm Seth." The dark haired gentleman brushed his lips barely across Ray's knuckles, and Ray thought he was going to pass out. It took every ounce of will he had to keep his knees from wiggling out from under him.

Ray's Landlord, Al looked at the gesture in progress and his jaw dropped. "You dramatic little whore, I am going to take this racket to your rear-end if you scare off my tenant."

Ray steadied himself. He breathed in. He took his hand back and folded his fingers together.

Seth gave Al a saucy little smile and went to the kitchen, ostensibly to fill his water bottle, and make the point that Al wasn't the boss of him.

Luke chuckled at Ray's quick recovery. "Oh, I think he'll be alright, as long as we don't drag him back to the bedroom immediately."

Al acted like he was going to hit Luke with the Pickleball racket he was holding, and Luke Vaulted over the back of the couch and out of the way, scurrying to the kitchen.

Al rolled his eyes, and regained his composure. "They aren't dangerous unless they're intoxicated. Then they're wicked beasts. But they won't bother you if you tell them no, hon."

Ray smiled sheepishly. He'd dealt with this sort of behavior from men and women since he hit puberty. He had come to assume his decision not to cut his hair probably played into that somewhat. He liked the attention, though. "I'm not sure I am up to what they can dish out. I might come to movie night though."

Al smiled. "Better than they deserve. We're doing Rocky Horror."

"Classic."

Al grinned at him again. "Well, anyway, you actually came here for something aside from the sexual harassment."

Someone from the kitchen said: "No, that was just a freebee." followed by much giggling.

Ray chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "I have the Rent and the deposit I owe you."

Al gave the tiniest pout at this, and took the envelope Ray held out to him. He walked it over to a desk that was a complete riot of other papers.

"Do you need a receipt, Mr. Friedman?"

"Yes, Please."

More giggling came from the kitchen.

Al opened a drawer and took out a green receipt pad, and jotted the time and date, and paid in full, and he gave Ray a copy.

"Thank you," Ray said quietly with a nod.

"No, thank you, I am glad you're prompt and not easily offended."

"They'd have had to try to use those pickleball rackets on me. I don't do that sort of thing until the 3rd date."

Howls of laughter rolled out of the kitchen as Al tried to keep a straight face through that retort.

Ray gave a small wave and a swift exit as his landlord joined with the laughter on the other side of the closing door.

Ray smiled all the way to work that day.

[angst-king]

Time of Dying pt 1

(So this is a story series for my friend and I's elemental spirit OCs. Due to them being spirits, we've decided to do a 'how would they die' back story series. Here we go!) (CW description of serious house fire and being burned alive) Leyo loved his job he had worked very hard to get into the fire academy, it took him a while but he eventually became a lieutenant. Not only that but he had a lovely girlfriend who he loved with every fiber of his being. From her pitch-black coily hair to her caramel-colored skin, to her bright white smile. He’d do anything for her, he’d risk his life for her. She was perfect for him, she knew how to make him laugh after a stressful day at work. Cooled him down from exploding with anger-Leyo was known for being a hot head- and not being afraid when he’d get mad. She made him feel love and brought him all he could ever need.

There was only one downside….she couldn’t cook. Ashlyn couldn’t cook to save her life, okay that's an exaggeration. She could cook small things, mac n cheese, toaster oven pizzas, just simple things if she was alone. Anything else she would overseason, underseason, undercook, overcook. Leyo grew up and was taught how to took and it was clear Ashlyn was not. It was a wonder she had made it 23 years like this!

After moving in together for a month, Leyo would teach her how to cook whenever he could. It was fun, just another way to spend time together. Dancing around the kitchen and talking about their day, Ashylyn would learn how to cook and Leyo would get a laugh out of her antics. The thing was she was starting to get better and better at it, she still struggled not to walk away from the stove or oven for too long or not second-guessing and needing to put the food back on the heat but she was making progress.

It was a late night and Leyo was grabbing himself a bite to eat on the way home from his overnight shift at the station. He was sitting in the parking lot of a Wendy’s, eating his sandwich only 5 minutes from home when he got a call on his cellphone. Huh, his neighbor was calling, ah maybe their kid was out late again?

“Hello?” “Leyo dude, get home now your house is on fire!” His heart skipped a beat and he dropped his sandwich asking for them to repeat what he heard.

“Your house literally bursted into flames man, no joke, I don’t know where your girlfriend is. I already called the fire department but you know it’ll be a bit. Just get here now!” Without skipping a beat as soon as the neighbor hung up he sped out of the parking lot and down the street. His mind raced wondering what could have happened and if Ashlyn was okay. As he grew closer smoke filled the air polluting it with sparks and the sound of crashing and tumbling. A glow of orange and red illuminated the sky as he zoomed through the neighborhood. Many civilians came out of their homes to see what had happened and just as he turned down his street he saw no fire trucks arriving yet. He parked as close as he could and ran towards his house, calling out for his girlfriend asking if she had come out. But no one knew, and Leyo had a sick feeling in his stomach that she was still inside.

The house was going up in flames, it wasn’t much but the fire was taking it down slowly. He knew it would be a good few minutes before the fire truck would get here, cops would arrive first to clear the street. He looked down and saw he was still wearing his fireman jacket. It was risky but he wouldn’t be able to rest if he waited minutes, he didn’t have minutes he had seconds!

“LEYO!” The purple-haired man dashed inside many bystanders screamed for him to get out, but it was too late. Smoke nothing but smoke, he got as low as he could, face covered by his shirt to filter out as much ash and smoke as he could as he called for Ashlyn. The crackling of fire and would coming down didn’t phase him he had one thing on his mind and it was to get to his girlfriend! First, he checked the kitchen which was the main source of the fire, he couldn’t even get in without being surrounded, and when he called out.

“ASHLYN! ASHLYN!” No answer, he quickly backtracked and went up the stairs continuing to shout for her. This time he got an answer from behind the bathroom door. The floor beneath him was getting hotter and hotter it felt like everything was melting in on itself but he pounded on the door for Ashlyn to let him in. When she did he stepped inside and asked if she was okay. Visibility wasn’t any better up there as the smoke was traveling.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I-i tried-I tried to make dinner a-and something c-caught fire and I exploded so-so I ran” She stammered out shakily coughing and choking on air. Leyo shook his head and held her close.

“Its gonna be alright, let's get out of here, can you walk?” Ashlyn took a step forwards but stumbled hard almost falling face-first onto the sink. Leyo caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist for support.

“I got you, let’s go!” Headed back towards the stairs a creaking noise came and the smoke had grown denser and the fire was climbing into the living room slithering into the sockets causing sparks. Creaking, crackling, sizzling, popping, and crashing, the house was starting to come down around them. Getting to the front door they thought they could just through the door open but the suction of the outside air and the pressure inside mixing with the heat made getting it open difficult. Leyo remembered he had something upstairs he could use to ram the door open Still, he encouraged her to find a way out, shrucking off his jacket he covered her with it and dashed back up the stairs.

The fire rose parts of the floor were coming down, the hot spots were boiling, it was like being in an oven. Leyo searched and searched he didn’t know how long he was up there but he managed to find a bat with the hopes of breaking the window and getting out. Right as he turned to go back to Ashlyn he made a wrong move and next thing he knew he fell through the second floor and right into a ring of fire. Ashlyn screamed as she heard a sick thud and saw Leyo’s body hit the ground. Leyo let out a scream of his own when he felt something searing into his back.

He kicked and squirmed in hopes of making it stop but the fire spread along his body. Breathing got harder it felt like a 50-ton weight was crushing his chest and acid burning his throat. He had dropped the bat but gestured for Ashlyn to grab it.

“Smash the window and run!” He choked out, she shook her head and tried to get closer to him but more planks and drywall plunged down.

“NO PLEASE!” She screamed, all Leyo could do was nudge the bat over, and pull his body towards the edge to crawl out from underneath the rubble.

“I’ll be okay” He croaked out, another burst of fire crackled around them and the black-haired girl picked up the bat limped her way back to the front, and weakly smashed at the window. It took many tries as he need for oxygen increased her body grew weaker. Each swing felt like it was taking years off her life but she kept going in hopes that she could get out and tell the firefighters where Leyo was and they could rescue him too.

With one final crash, the window had broken enough for her to climb through not without injury but it was better than burning alive. Just as she got to the front of the house a firefighter came to get her away while she rasped out for them to go inside.

“M-my boyfriend, please, you-you have to-have help him! Inside f-first flo-floor” Her world went black, she dropped the bat, the young woman was whisked to the paramedics as soon as she lost consciousness.

Inside the house Leyo was losing a battle he knew he would never win. Pulling himself along the scolding floor, his flesh scraping along the burning wood. Plaster and decor fell atop his body, his mind was becoming numb as his heart was pounding up to his head. Black nothingness was all he could see and flickers of fire. No matter how much he focused on getting to the front door each reach of his shaking arms felt like he was swimming in tar. He wasn’t even sure he was conscious anymore. Nothing felt real, he could hear voices but see nothing, he could feel the vibrations of footsteps thumping up to the front door through the floor.

Weezing and sputtering for air just as a crew of search and rescue firefighters busted through the door the fire erupted like a blazing inferno!

“WE FOUND HIM!” They dashed out carrying Leyo’s limp body hurriedly to the medics. His body had been chard, muscles and bones were being exposed as multiple layers of skin had been burned away. His airway was hardly salvageable, 55% of his body had been covered in 3rd nearing 4th degree burns as even bones were becoming exposed. His hair was melting off his scalp with chunks of his skin, and his heart no longer beat.

No matter how long medics looked for an airway, creating one only bought them time. No matter how many rounds of chest compressions and shocks. No matter how fast they got to that hospital. It was all for nothing.

He was gone

[rowavolo]

Hi! Okay, for the music themed asks, for Neuv, do Rock, Musicals, and Gaming tracks. For Cap, Folk and Jazz!

WAVES HI THERE!!!!!!!! BITES YOU EIGHT TRILLION TIMES !!!! MY STINKY !!!!!!! ILY!!!!

Neuvillette -

2. Rock — What's something you and your f/o are proud of each other for?

I'd be very proud of him for adapting so well to human life and behaviours and the little intricacies of socialisation, as well as his crazy good memory!!

I think he'd be proud of me every time i left the house without having some form of meltdown, or made it through a conversation without hiding behind him skdjfhjksfd,, no but fr he probably admires my general drive to sort of Keep Going

9. Musicals — What colors/sounds/scents remind you and your f/o of one another?

He'd associate me with orange, first and foremost (99.9% because of my hair), but secondarily, purple and turquoise. Not for any sentimental reason, but because the Melusines found out that those are my favourite colours and remind him like eight times a week kjshdfjkdfs -- he doesn't seem like the type to have much of a crossover between certain senses. I actually imagine him to have a pretty strong case of aphantasia, so those links just don't come naturally to him - because of this, he's also an extremely literal person. I'm to be associated with the general commotion i kick up whenever i'm nearby (see previous post), but also the chatter of overexcited melusines and imitations of the little chirps and purrs they make.

I associate him with blues, whites and that tarnished sort of gold colour he wears. Maybe a cloudy sort of grey. He's got a snake scale sort of texture but also a very smooth soft one. I associate him with the sound of a clock and work being done at a desk, the smell of rain, and the tapping of his cane.

10. Gaming tracks — What is a core memory or a memory you will never forget with your f/o?

Core memories would probably include how we met (which mostly just vibes to me as like. i testified in a trial as a witness or whatever and Freaked It(tm) and he called for a recess and comforted me n was like nice.

Outside of that, I imagine him introducing me to the Melusines as his partner for the first time was also a very memorable moment for us <3

Capitano

3. Folk — What's something funny your f/o has done or said, or a moment that has made you laugh?

I imagine he and I both have these very dry senses of humour, and our 'back and forth' can be a little confusing to those who aren't familiar. One that always gets me is when i make him carry something of mine that's very outwardly soft and kind of cutesy, so it clashes horribly with his whole dark-and-brooding aesthetic.

though, one piece of one of my fics does come to mind as being pretty amusing/silly

'

"If you were a fruit product," Rowan began the sentence as if it were an entirely normal subject to hop to. Capitano patiently awaited the rest of it as Rowan paused to think for a moment. "I think you'd be pear cider." 

"You'd be applesauce." Capitano offered in return - they'd been together long enough for him to be able to keep up with Rowan's odd subject-hops and ways of expressing affection. 

"Applesauce?!" Rowan blinked and set a hand on his chest in mock-offence. "I wanted to be something cool, like a jam, or-or a candy! Not baby food." 

"You like applesauce." Capitano observed simply. 

"Okay. Yeah. True, I guess." Rowan's cheeks flushed. "Guilty as charged. But I'm changing your answer to 'raisins' instead." 

"I see." Capitano reached over to retrieve the last few items from the bag so he could put them away. 

"You're s'posed to be upset about that, by the way." Rowan tipped his chin up as he watched the Harbinger mill around the kitchen silently. 

"I like raisins." Capitano said, as he placed a jar of chutney in one of the cupboards. 

"Well I don't!" Rowan burst out indignantly. "They're yucky and icky and squishy and gross and I hate them." While his words were angry, his tone bordered more on joking. 

"You hate me?" Capitano turned to Rowan and tilted his head to the side - his helmet still remained firmly on, as it often did for the first few hours after he arrived home after a long stretch of time spent away on missions. 

"Yep. Sorry, you need to find a new catboy to look after your cabin." Rowan shrugged in a nonchalant manner. 

"I'll have Pantalone post an advertisement." Capitano took the joke in stride, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips at his partner's familiar antics. 

"Wait, no." Rowan began to backpedal immediately. "No no no. No." He scrunched up his face and grabbed onto the lapels of Capitano's coat, giving them a firm tug. "I'm territorial. You can't get a new catboy. Or girl. Or anything." 

Capitano let out a low puff of amusement and stepped a little closer to Rowan, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him flush against his chest.

'

it's just fun and soft and domestic and silly and i like it <3

5. Jazz — What are some sweet or nice nicknames you and your f/o have for one another?

I headcanon Capitano's 'real' name to be Maleko, so on soft occasions i'd possibly call him 'eko', but usually it's just 'Cap', 'Capi' 'Tano' or some variation thereof.

I imagine he tends to call me things like 'cub' or 'pup' just because of My Vibes, but another one he's fond of is 'bambi' (tbh i made the story (or some variation thereof) canon in my version of teyvat simply because i like the nickname so much sfhkjdfsnk

[undertheashtree]

Creating My Own Version of the Pat McGrath Mothership XI Palette

If you haven’t checked out my YouTube channel, then something you need to know about me is that I love the Pat McGrath Mothership palettes. I own the first ten (nine of which were given to me as gifts by my husband and my mother-in-law). I’ve lusted after these palettes for years, though I never actually thought I would own so many of them.

Since “completing” my collection at the beginning of this year, I’ve had no desire to add to my Mothership collection. I also wondered if the brand would end the line at ten palettes, mostly because the last three received a lot of criticism for being too similar and too pink, but here we are with number eleven.

(This picture belongs to Pat McGrath, I just took a screenshot off the website.)

Upon seeing this palette for the first time, it immediately reminded me of Divine Rose I and II (the seventh and eighth palette). Everything appears to have some level of rosy pink to it, with the exceptions of the dark matte brown (bottom row, first shade) and the gold (bottom row, last shade). I can acknowledge this palette is pretty, but it’s painfully boring and repetitive, especially since I have every other Mothership palette. Without trying, I know I could easily dupe, or at least come extremely close to, this new palette with the Pat McGrath eyeshadows I already own.

Furthermore, the name of this palette—Sunlit Seduction—speaks to its wasted potential, in my opinion. Sunlit Seduction. I saw the name and was overwhelmed with the idea of what this palette could have been. Sunsets and sunrises came to mind, with their bold, fiery, warm color palettes, with just a hint of blues and purples. I spent some time Googling sunsets and sunrises, along with noting the names of the original eyeshadows, and set to work creating my vision of this palette.

By the way, there is a video of me building this palette up on my channel, if you’d like to check it out.

I used the names of the original eyeshadows as additional inspiration for what colors I wanted to use in my version of the palette. I’ll talk about the eyeshadows going top to bottom, left to right. The first shade is called Skintense Radiance, and it appears to be a champagne metallic with a pink undertone. I felt this should have been more yellow, something more sunshine-y, so I opted for a pastel yellow metallic. This is a franken-shadow I mixed together a while ago, and I don’t remember what went into it.

Next was Nude Rose. This felt too cool-toned, almost mauve. Looking at the sunrise/sunset pictures, some of the pinks do lean somewhat purple, but more like a lilac and not mauve. There were also a lot of warm pinks, although the majority seemed softer than I was imagining. I settled on this warm, peachy pink called Eden. The pigment is soft, but still bold, which mimicked the pink in the pictures really well.

Then we have Hypnotic Bronze. I’m not a fan of these orange-leaning bronzes/coppers, like what’s in the original palette, and which Pat McGrath insists on including in so many of her palettes. Also, bronze, the metal, can look blue and green. In the sunrises especially, I was seeing hints of pastel green, and thought this would be a good opportunity to include a small flash of green in the palette. The eyeshadow I included is called Crystal, and it’s got a pinkish brown base color with lots of green and blue shimmer.

Onto our first “special” shade, called Astral Pink Fetish. Another eyeshadow color I’m not a fan of is pink to gold duochromes, and no amount of sparkle—and this one seems to have a lot—will change that. This is also a duochrome that we see a lot from Pat McGrath, which makes this “special” shade the least special in the palette. I wanted to keep the pink but wanted the finish to be more blue/purple, so I went with Good Gawd for this shade. Even though this isn’t the same formula as Pat McGrath’s “special” shades, this eyeshadow is definitely special in its own way, and I felt it would replace that particular formula really well.

Then we have Blitz Crimson Ecstasy, which is the most disappointing shade in the palette. Nothing about the original eyeshadow says “crimson”. It’s incredibly pink and seems to have very little red actually in it. I have a few really lovely metallic reds, but I chose to go with a multichrome, which is called Lucid. It’s a black-based multichrome that shifts purple, magenta, red, orange, gold, and a hint of green at the end. I felt this really embodied the vibe I was trying to go for, especially the sunset side of things, and I wish the brand would include some bolder multichromes in their palettes.

Next was Xtreme Vermillion, which isn’t vermillion in the slightest. The color vermillion is more of a red-orange, leaning more towards red. The eyeshadow in the palette is a dark, warm brown. To be fair, I also didn’t go with a real vermillion, but I did want a primary red matte. One day, I hope Pat McGrath puts out some bolder colorful mattes like this one, called Button Bush, so I suppose this decision was partially driven by wishful thinking. I also love a good, matte, primary red, and I felt this was a good palette to include it in.

Next was Copper Dawn, which looks more gold than the bronze, but still very warm and orangey. My vision for this palette warranted a strong gold, but I didn’t want anything too yellow, or that leans orange. The one I chose, called 365, is a gold with brown undertone, giving it a bronzier look. It also has a subtle green finish, which, I think, added something interesting to the palette.

Then we have Sienna Mystique, which is a warm, midtone brown matte. Looking at the color sienna, it’s more of a burnt orange, so that’s what I went for. I considered going a little more neutral, but the brightness of this shade, called Enigma, embodied the fieriness of a sunset really well.

Probably the only shade in the entire palette that I enjoy is Astral Amethyst Allure. It’s a hazy kind of purple, lots of sparkle, and has a pink finish. My initial instinct was to dupe this shade, but I didn’t have anything close, so I went with a grungier brownish purple with lots of silver glitter, called Wild & Free. It has a similar vibe to the original shade, but adds an interesting amount of grunginess to the palette that I quite enjoy.

Finally, we have Astral Gilded Aura, which is a sparkly gold. It looks really bright, but also like a glittery gold in the Mothership X. For this shade, I chose to put my dislike of orangey metallics aside and opted for a gold with an orange base, called Stardust. It’s similar to 365, but the base color is bright, more red-orange, and it’s got a strong gold finish.

This is far from my usual color story. I’m much more drawn to greens, blues, purples, and greys, so this warm, orangey palette is out of my comfort zone, but I think I like it. It’s at least more interesting than Pat McGrath’s version, so I’m counting this as a win for that reason alone.

I’ll leave you with some swatches. The eyeshadow names, as well as their palettes, will be listed below (written in order from top to bottom, left to right, in the palette).

Yellow franken-shadow Eden - Anastasia Beverly Hills Prism palette Crystal - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette Good Gawd - J.D. Glow single Lucid - Chaos Makeup multichrome Button Bush - Ace Beaute Floral Vintage palette 365 - J.D. Glow single Enigma - Blend Bunny Blends palette Wild & Free - Dose of Colors single Stardust - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette